Disclaimer: don't own bleach characters…I wanna cry, but my stupid male ego gets in the way…sniff
Have fun reading this, first shot at making a Bleach fanfic, enjoy!
No Words
It was raining. It always seemed to rain whenever she was sad.
Ichigo's orange bangs, unrestrained and frizzled, drooped lazily over his vision as he hunched over his desk, his unfinished homework proceeding to ferment on his desk. It was going to stay and ferment there, too, despite its yearning desire to be completed, the nag in the back of his mind urging him to complete it so that he could actually stay on task in school.
But there was a much bigger nag that had been bothering him, and it took the form of the yellow pajama-clad woman sitting on his windowsill, staring blankly out at the rain.
A quiet sigh heaved up through his chest and out through his lips in a violent gust, causing his lips to flap slightly. Truth be told, he just didn't know what the fuck to DO, right now…
He had always strived to help everyone he knew that he was close to, his constant wars to protect everyone he knew was evidence enough of that.
Aizen…the boutous…Soul Society… Every single time he had fought his hardest, even when he was sure he would lose, to protect everyone that he treasured, often times with explosive results. He had, more or less, conquered his own inner hollow, and vanquished countless others
So why, then, was it that he couldn't help this girl who was pouting on his windowsill?
The dead silence in the room loomed around him after the rage from his own self loathing began to subside. Each muscle in his body twitched with annoyance, quivered with frustration, cramped with the realization that there were no words to counsel her.
Rukia…why can't you be happy? Why do I always mess up?
Another frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He couldn't just pull out the despair from her heart and beat it up a pulp; he couldn't kill this feeling in her heart and have everything be hunky-dory again...
No. He had to THINK this time…
He was so damned used to just killing everything and solving everything with his fists that he didn't really know what to do…should he just outright ask her what was troubling her?
Mentally he roared at his own stupidity on the matter, immediately shooting the idea down into the depths from whence it came. No, that would just make matters worse. Besides, he knew what was causing it, despite his "forgiveness."
The whole soul society incidents. Even now, after 2 full years, she STILL hadn't forgiven herself for putting all of them in danger. His brown eyes glanced over at her, studies be damned.
She hadn't moved from when he had last looked at her, which had been over an hour ago.
His gaze shifted to her face, and he cringed slightly. It was just a pure look of raw sadness, of emptiness. Though her face itself was blank, her navy windows into her soul, shining orbs above her cheeks, revealed everything very bluntly. Laconically so.
Despite all of his best efforts to try to make her feel at home here, she still felt alone, rejected.
What the hell was he doing wrong? He growled slightly in irritation, his gaze falling to his lap. Why couldn't he just do something RIGHT for once?
The fury now burning inside, he pushed out his chair, and stomped over to her. Still engrossed in the trickling rain, she didn't even notice him until he wrapped both of his arms around her waist.
There were no words to describe how her eyes opened in surprise, letting loose some of the tears she had so desperately been trying to hold back.
No words for the awkward position Ichigo realized he was in, or to describe the blush that came to his cheeks.
No words…to describe the feeling of her body against his losing its tension. Releasing herself, leaning into him and hugging him back.
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R&R please!