Recurrence
Rukia was returning to Soul Society—again. It was just for a routine meeting with her squad; nothing to be worried over. She even said she'd be back sooner this time. Be that as it may, it still meant he wouldn't see her for the next few days.
As she prepared for her departure, Ichigo lay on his bed indifferently, hands beneath his hand, not showing how much he would miss her whilst she was gone.
Rukia turned to face him from her position against the window frame. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?" she asked, not implying anything by the question, just wondering.
"Uh, yeah, bye," he mumbled back, not meeting her gaze. It didn't surprise her; Ichigo was never one for emotional send-offs—just like her—and she understood that fully. She acknowledged his farewell with a slight incline of her head, and leapt out the window without another word.
He sighed.
You'd think he'd be used to it by now. She left so often—you'd think he would have built up some kind of immunity towards it. But every time she came back, it was like those days without her had never happened, and the emotions he felt during that time were all but forgotten.
He never said it out loud—it must have been his pride that unconsciously got in the way—but every time she left for Soul Society, it was like she took a piece of him with her. It was a faint yet patent sense of emptiness that gnawed at him from the inside. Day by day, the pain only grew stronger. He couldn't quite place the feeling, though that was to be expected. How was he meant to know what love felt like if he'd never experienced it before?
The idea did cross his mind—momentarily. Maybe she meant more to him than he thought. But he was always quick to brush that notion aside. Love wasn't meant to painful—or so he told himself. Of course he came to learn, much later, that love isn't all about bliss and happiness. Love can play tricks on you, love can sneak up behind you when you least expect it, and, most importantly, love can hurt.
It's just that, at the time, he wasn't ready to realize these feelings yet. So he was forced to live with the aching in his chest—accept it and deal with it, like he did with monsters—not knowing exactly what it was.
She wasn't his to have, to hold, to call his own. So why did it hurt so much to watch her walk away? Why did it hurt to live each day without her by his side? Why did it feel like, every time he thought of her face, there was a huge hole where his heart should be?
Why did he almost jump out of his seat when he sensed her familiar spiritual pressure enter his room that very night?
"I'm back, Ichigo."
And just like that, he felt whole again.