Disclaimer: Me no own.
Pairing: Ichi/Ruki, in a sense
Status: Complete
Words: 1076
An: Inspired by Joe Purdy song "I love the rain the most". The moment I heard it a big sing screaming Ichigo flashed in front of my eyes. So – my brain produced this. Not top notch right there, in a writing sense, but hell – Ichigo/Rukia. Sort of.
.o.o.o.
"No more grey today, (..)
You know miss Sunshine, she starts to paint
A perfect picture of this river parade
And I know that I love the rain the most..
When it stops"
"I love the Rain the Most" by Joe Purdy
.o.o.o.
.o.o.o.
It's raining for days now.
The silent downpour of little droplets is starting to make his skin crawl. It's gnawing on his nerves, slowly, bit by bit and he shivers at the coldness sneaking in. When he sees the weather prognosis for the next few days he feels as if his blood is slowly accelerating in his veins.
It's been raining for days. And Zangetsu is contemplating if he should create an umbrella.
.o.
He is lying on his bed and the sound of raindrops hitting his window is driving him insane. His breath fogs the moment it leaves his mouth, but the blanket is lying on the floor. The light of the lamp across the street shines weakly into his room, illuminating the water dropping down in its carnival dance.
The rest of his household is already sound asleep. Him?
No.
Ichigo is ready to scream bloody murder.
It has been raining for a fucking week now. And he really, really hates the rain. With passion. A car goes by, and he turns his eyes to the window and the world outside. The street lights blink for a second in and out of existence. He sits up crossing his hands over his knees.
Sneezes.
Growls.
He really, really hates the rain.
The last time it rained nothing good happened. Nothing good happens when it rains in his world. Ever. The last time it rained.. She left. She left him, and damn it all, she left him laying on the street – there, just there in the middle of puddles in creation, soaking to the bones and exposed to the harsh judgment of the rain. He really hated her in that brief moment too.
But in the end, she smiled at him.
Oh. He feels warm for a second there.
(Smiled.)
Well, okay, so he was wrong. The rain didn't stop then. She was safe, sure, and he was healed (in more ways than just physically), everything was just fine and dandy. It's just that when he came back, when he entered his room and sat down on his bed – there was no Rukia to jump out of his closet and berate him for coming home so late at night. There was no Rukia to jump and kick him on the head, punch him in his guts or sweep the floor with him.
There were no scattered magazines across the floor, no hidden pajamas or dresses in the back of his closet, no double school bags... No nothing. It was as if she was never there. Never existed. Nothing left of her beside the memory of her last smile.
He remembers – it rained that night also. It was the first time when he felt the rain as if it was eating him up from the inside. It gathered and gathered and swam around the edges, looking for a away to break through. It hasn't stopped since then.
The cutting sound of the pitter-patter of rain on his window glass angers him. Ichigo turns to stare at it, his eyes cold as marbles, dark and heavy. He glares and glares. Not that it changes anything. So he tries frowning even deeper. Cruses the rain. And then cruses her in his thoughts. Nope, doesn't work.
"Fuck you Rukia for staying."
Yes, it really does sound better when said out loud.
"Well, fuck you too for not coming and forcing me to come back." Her voice envelops the room, loud and clear, the sound of rich satin filling his ears and washing over him. He turns sharply, breath holding in and his eyes just a bit wide.
"Rukia? What the hell…?"
She's standing by the closet, her closet, arms crossed on her chest and frowning. She sounds pissed, even though she didn't raise her voice at all. Ichigo feels stupid for a minute.
"You came back?"
Ouch.
There's that kick in the head. Slowly he raises his hand to rub the back of his head where she hit him before looking at her, now standing in front of him, eyes dark and centered on his face.
He settles his feet on the ground and his arms on his knees. His shoulders sag down, the muscles release something and let go. His eyebrow almost knit together as he looks at her under his bangs. "Bitch, that hurt."
She snorts, hands on her hips and a grin on her lips. "You're a man. Deal with it." Her eyes leave his face and venture to his window. She's looking at the rain. Then back at him. Rukia scrunches her face up, and her eyebrows draw together while an understanding dawns in her mind.
"How long?"
She doesn't say it, but he knows what she's asking.
"A fucking week." (three months) There's anger in his voice, but she does not miss the hollow tone that lies underneath. Rukia crunches down in front of him, hugging her knees and bores her eyes into his.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, the rain sloshing outside on the street, running down his window pane and gathering in the corners of her eyes. Something in her face eases up, she breathes out. The air of her slips out and fogs the tinniest bit.
"I'm back."
Ichigo feels warm again.
Ichigo's hands grip his knees, bones jumping under his skin. He lowers his head, away from her and to the carpet between his feet. He can see the edges of her shoes in the corners of his eyes. They are wet.
"So you are."
.o.
Inside of his upside turned downside world, Zangetsu sits on top of the tallest building, legs crossed and hanging over the edge, his right cheek leaning on his hand and feels the sunshine heat up his cold, cold skin.
.o.o.o.
An: Me trying to be metaphorical. Oh well.
Happy Holidays to you all!