A\N: yes, another story. This one has many pairings, and a lot of character bashing aha, sorry. This one will update a little slowly at first, due to my other stories. Apologies beforehand. Enjoy!

"How can I prove that I love you?" Is such a egocentric question. It's a question that is so vague and yet it answers itself, if pondered deeply. It's a complete act of desperation that leads to the spewing of these vile words, words that seem completely innocent and slightly romantic. As many learn in a literature class it all depends on the context, what had led up to the usage of such a complex question?

Ichigo Kurosaki spat out those words as if though they didn't really mean to come out. The look on his face stated the same, that when given the chance he would mess up again and again. His features clearly spoke out that he didn't want the forgiveness and that he didn't want Uryuu to actually answer the question.

Uryuu stood, silent form gently quivering. He had done what many hadn't done before when faced with a similar question: he thought. He simply stood there, suppressing sob after sob and tear after tear before speaking in a gruff, harsh voice.

"If you have to ask then you don't really love me." Uryuu reasoned and he had a point. If the person truly loved whomever they where begging for forgiveness and understanding from and had to ask what they should do then they really didn't know the person. How can you love someone you don't know? And on top of that, asking the question makes it seem as if though they feel like they did nothing wrong to start with.

"Uryuu, I'm sorry." Ichigo said, voice flat. What unnerved Uryuu the most was this: Ichigo didn't seem to actually give a damn about the fact that Uryuu was leaving him-it almost seemed like the Shinigami was taunting him above that. Uryuu scoffed and pointed at the door, not daring to look Ichigo in the eye.

"No, you're not." Uryuu whispered as Ichigo got up and promptly walked towards the door. Uryuu hated that his voice cracked at his final word and decided that this wasn't worth it; Ichigo wasn't worth it. Ichigo reached for the door handle but paused and turned to look at Uryuu. Eyes locked and words caught in Uryuu's throat.

"I truly am sorry." Ichigo murmured and in a blink of an eye he was out the door, gone from Uryuu's life for good. Uryuu stood in the same spot, leaning against the countertops that separated the living room from the kitchen, for about ten minutes before slowly sinking onto his knees. No tears flowed down his cheeks, no muffled sobs or pitiful cries echoed through the lonely apartment. It was only himself and the cloud of confusion and sadness that had blown into his life only mere hours before.

Why did he want to swallow his words after seeing Ichigo's downcast eyes?

Outside in the street, not even two blocks away, Ichigo was walking fast, each step weighted down by the heavy weight of guilt and despair. His scowl was deeper and the air around him heavy, so much so that everyone walking past would gasp and watch him until they couldn't make him out from another passerby, eyes understanding and pitying.

By the time Ichigo had gotten to his house, which was a long way from Uryuu's, the night had gotten colder, biting at his bare arms, and the moon was shining in the darkened sky. He opened the door and was happy that his father didn't instantly try to assault him. 'It's the only good thing to come of this day', Ichigo thought ruefully. He clambered his way up the stairs and looked at the 17 on his door, wishing badly he could just blink twice and find himself on his bed, barely awakening for the day…

This is, of course, wishful thinking and Ichigo knows it. He turns the doorknob and drags himself to his bed, knocking his elbow onto his drawer, hitting his knee against a chair and then bumped his foot onto something under his bed before finally collapsing on the cold mattress.

It was like a floodgate had opened; Ichigo cried and cried for hours, the moonlight and then dawning sunlight gleaming on his tears and wetted cheeks. His eyes are heavy and sting with each blink. His heart is heavy and his body feels strangely empty, though he knows why.

It was all his fault for hurting Uryuu, his fault for doing what he had always promised to never do; he went against his own promises. He promised to protect his friends, yet he hurt two of them at the same time. He has sworn to protect each and every one of his friends and has slain any hollow that had threatened to destroy them-what was he to do now that he was the one to inflict the pain?

Slowly closing his eyes against the lights and colors of the world, Ichigo fell into a restless sleep. His body trembled in cold and sadness, his face was scrunched up in pain-almost as if he had been stabbed. A figure appeared in the window pane, which was done flawlessly. They slowly entered the room and closed the glass after themselves. They took soft steps towards the Shinigami and shook their head, reaching over to pull the blanket that was currently on the floor over him.

They stopped, however, when they reached the Shinigami's hands, which were clenched together and holding some foreign object. The figure gently probed the object from between Ichigo's hands and then removed it. The held it in their hands as they brought the blanket up to Ichigo's chin.

Sitting down on the wooden desk that resided on the far wall across from the bed, the person flipped open and was instantly greeted with a picture of Ichigo and Uryuu. Ichigo was clearly holding Uryuu by the waist and was placing a kiss on the Quincy's cheek. Uryuu, who was surprised, raised his hand in defense and Ichigo snapped the picture. The person seemed to be taken aback and their mood instantly spoiled. Clicking various buttons they opened the messaging application and scrolled down to the "Outbox" folder. They seemed to grin when greeted with partially exposed sent messages such as "Babe, I'm sor…", "Please, let me talk to…" and "I never meant to…". They tsk'd, pushed the back arrow and went back to the main messaging menu.

Two or three clicks later and the phone popped up a message: "Messages deleted."

They sighed, though not in anger or frustration, and clicked at the inbox folder. They had deleted every message so why were there still eight messages in the inbox? Clicking at the first one they couldn't help but feel a tad bit angry. "From: Ishida. 'I know I don't say this enough…I love you, so much. Plz never forget that." They clicked at the next one and were met with something even more personal. "From: Ishida. 'Thank you…for today, it made me really happy that you were there J'."

They selected every one of the messages and unlocked them, and then deleted each and every last one. They closed the phone, placed it on the desk and then made their way casually towards Ichigo. Going on their knees, they gently stroked the orange strands of hair that hung precariously over the Shinigami's eyes. Ichigo groaned and stirred in his sleep, murmuring under his breath.

"Nn, Uri…Uryuu…"

The person paused and then got up, glaring at the sleeping teen. Slowly but surely, they made their way to Ichigo's room door. Instead of opening it and taking their leave, though, they turned left and entered his closet. Inside, Rukia Kuchiki lied in her futon, unsure about what she had done but not sorry. She laid there, smirk firmly planted on her lips and her eyes closed as she fell asleep, plotting her next few moves.