a/n: happy late christmas and happy early new year! (maybe this will compensate for my lack of updating on here)
also, please excuse any typos. i tried something different here and i'm not sure how i did. the rating will go up later on.
rating: T+
warnings: strong language
disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
like coming home
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...
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"Tell me again," says Ichigo, fingers applying pressure to his temples in a vain attempt to control an oncoming headache. He feels it spreading across his forehead, making him wish he had stopped by the nearby café and gotten another cup of coffee because it's only Monday and he's already wishing the week was already done and over with.
Keigo chuckles nervously and tries to create space by slowly inching his chair away from Ichigo. Feebly, he motions at the blaring computer screen that holds all the input and output data for the library. "Well, um, it's like I said Ichigo, I forgot the put in the passcode last Friday so it didn't save all the returns."
Exhaling deeply through his nose, Ichigo lets the information sink in and when it finally does, he tries his best not strangle Keigo. "So what you're telling me is that we have all of Friday's, Saturday's, and Sunday's book returns to do?"
Keigo coils into himself, reacting to the dangerous aura radiating from Ichigo. Still, he manages to shrugs his shoulders to diffuse some of the tension. "I mean, it's not like a lot people even bother dropping off their books on the weekend anyways . . ." Ichigo's glare has Keigo trailing off and looking towards a dusty corner of the office. He swallows thickly before admitting, "But technically yes, we need to redo Friday's book load."
"I really fucking don't like you right now, Keigo."
"B-But it's okay!" proclaims Keigo hastily, hands fidgeting. "We can totally catch up and I'll even stay after my shift is over to help you!"
Ichigo glowers, eyes narrowing. "How kind of you to take some responsibility of your own stupidity."
Before Keigo can say anything more, Ichigo heads to the back and dumps his backpack onto one of the cluttered tables. "Shit," he grumbles under his breath as he begins pushing one of the carts full of books to the counter so he can swipe them back into the system. "Shit, shit, shit."
It's not that he's truly mad at Keigo (well, he is, but there's several levels to his anger and they haven't reached any of the life threatening ones) and it's not like the work is all that difficult really, but Ichigo has midterms he desperately needs to cram for, and with soccer practices running later than usual, he's too tired and too sleep deprived to even bother touching his textbooks once he returns to his apartment.
Which is why he had accepted the job at the on campus library; it gave him a place where he could sit in a quiet area and study.
Annoyed, Ichigo begins scanning the books' barcodes and arranging them into piles. It's boring work that leaves his mind to worry and stress over the quiz he has tomorrow and essay due the following day. He has no idea where he's going to find the time to prepare for either one—he could just skip the quiz and lecture all together and actually begin the paper, especially considering he'd been given over a week to work on it.
College definitely does not get easier over the years.
"Keigo," snaps Ichigo once he finishes, slamming one collection of articles a little too roughly, "start the next rack. I'm gonna put these ones back."
He returns the books onto the cart and starts at aisle 4, section BOK. Like clockwork, he slips them back into their rightful place, occasionally finding some misplaced books—undoubtedly Keigo's doing—and fixing those as well.
As Ichigo turns into another aisle, something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. He glances over to find a familiar auburn-haired girl settling into one of the tables near the back.
Orihime Inoue is a regular, always showing up in the early afternoon to read or nap a little. Sometimes, Ichigo catches her doing schoolwork, but most of the time she pulls out a sci-fi novel and buries her nose in it.
That's initially what caught Ichigo's attention.
She seldom checks out anything from the romance section, always opting for stories about aliens and robots over three inches thick. And as strange as it may seem to other people, Ichigo finds it endearing. He'll watch her from afar as she loses herself in the writing, face openly expressing her shock or amusement to whatever she reads.
It's cute, even when she tears up when one of her favorite characters dies.
Orihime must feel Ichigo's probing gaze on her because her gray eyes flick upwards and meets his despite his attempts to remain unnoticed. A faint flush of color grows on her cheeks as she offers him one of her bright smiles.
The corner of Ichigo's mouth perks up in return before he resumes his work. He ignores the way his ears start the heat up from the friendly gesture, reminding himself that it's silly to get flustered over Orihime's kindness.
Shaking his head, Ichigo refocuses on alphabetizing a shelf Keigo completely butchered, wondering how his friend was even accepted into their university.
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...
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A little bit over an hour passes by when Orhime approaches the front desk, book clutched against her generous bosom. Pausing from re-inputting Friday's log, Ichigo gets up from his seat to help her. "Hey," he says, leaning against the countertop.
"Hi Kurosaki-kun," greets Orihime sweetly, sliding over the novel and her school I.D. "I'm rechecking this one out."
They're not strangers but they're also not exactly friends, most of their interactions limited to the library. But Ichigo enjoys talking to her; she's good-natured and takes the time of day to make some small talk. It's something hard to find in Tokyo where it seems like people are too busy to bother over anyone other than themselves.
Ichigo lazily raises a brow. "You liked it that much?"
Orihime laughs a little self-consciously as she takes back her card and neatly returns it into her mint colored wallet. "Not exactly," she says, "I haven't finished it yet."
"Seriously?"
The book is rather small compared to some of the other series Orihime has completed in the past. Ichigo has noted that she devours books like food, finishing even the books she's mentioned as not particularly interesting. So it comes as a bit of surprise that she hasn't been able to maintain that standard.
Orihime noses scrunches up a bit, making Ichigo want to reach over and pinch it. "I know," she concedes gently, "but I have midterms, so I haven't had much free time."
Ichigo nods in agreement and passes the book back. "I get you."
She slips her novel into her tote bag but stays rooted to the floor as she tilts her head to the side, hair spilling over her shoulders in long waves. "You look tired," she points out, voice laced with obvious concern. "Are you taking care of yourself, Kurosaki-kun?"
It jars Ichigo. He's not quite used to people fretting over his wellbeing; his friends just assume the exhaustion comes with the student-athlete responsibilities. And according to his coach and the team, as long as his legs are still working he can suck up the all-nighters and continue the endless cycle of matches and practices.
And besides, Ichigo absolutely hates the idea of appearing weak in front of anyone. He does his best to keep his sisters from worrying over him, constantly reassuring them that he's doing okay in school and soccer even when he sometimes feels like he's in over his head. Plus, what would he gain by complaining? It wouldn't change the situation; he'd still have large amounts of readings to catch up on along with 7 a.m. conditioning workouts.
"Don't worry about it," he gruffs out and he inwardly winces at how defensive and rude he sounds. "I'm fine."
This however does not derail Orihime. Her expression softens in understanding and Ichigo can feel himself loosing another small part of his heart to her. "Just make sure to rest, okay?"
He nods once. "Thanks."
Orihime waivers for just a moment, as though she wants to say something more, but Ichigo knows his demeanor has her holding her tongue and for that he hates himself. So instead, their conversation ends sooner than usual and leaves him watching silently as Orihime bows slightly and leaves.
Keigo whistles from behind him. "Wow, way to fuck that one up."
Ichigo grinds his teeth together. He feels like kicking his own ass for acting like such a jerk when Orihime was just trying to be nice. Pissed off at his inability to at least act with some manners, Ichigo grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. "I'll be back," he mutters. "I need coffee."
"Bring me back some!" calls out Keigo.
"Hell no."
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…
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"Come on, get those feet moving!"
Renji casts a dirty look over his shoulder at their team captain, Ikkaku, who busies himself by shamelessly flirting with the stats girl, Nanao. "That bastard," he mutters as they begin another round of ladders. "Must be nice not to do shit."
"Leave him," says Toshiro, cleanly completing a set of the Icky Shuffle, "Nanao is just going to turn him down again anyways."
"Exactly!" presses Renji, missing a step and accidently bumping into Izuru. "So instead of wasting time on that, he should get his ass over here and suffer with the rest of us!"
Renji's obnoxious voice carries over to the benches where Ikkaku stands with Nanao, effectively interrupting whatever conversation they were having. It gives the bespectacled girl the opportunity to slip away and head to Coach Shunsui's side.
"You fucking cockblock," hisses Ikkaku when he returns, jumping in with the rest of them and successfully throwing Renji off balance with a little shove as they start lateral jumps. "She was about to give me her number."
Ichigo dodges Renji as he stumbles forward and crashes into Izuru again.
"Okay," deadpans Shuhei, "let's not get crazy here Ikkaku."
"Shut the hell up, you walking STD," snickers Ikkaku. "I was actually getting somewhere with Nanao."
"I think you mean nowhere," pipes up Yumichika, smirking evilly at his best friend. "We all know Nanao has a crush on old man Shunsui."
"That's because she's not aware that she has options."
"You're more of a last resort, Ikkaku," says Toshiro dryly.
"Oi! That's no way to talk to your senpai you shrimpy little shit—!"
Ichigo's elbow to the gut effectively shut's up Ikkaku as their coaches approach them, Nanao trailing right behind with her clipboard in tow. He can hear his baldheaded friend muttering about disrespectful underclassman as their assistant coach, Ukitake, explains the drills they'll be running.
After Yumkichika and Renji distract their coaches by asking ridiculous circular questions for five minutes to avoid taking the pitch, Ichigo heads over to the goalie's box to work with Toshiro on his penalty kicks.
"Best out of five buys lunch?" wagers Toshiro, spinning the ball thrice and then setting it down meticulously onto the freshly cut grass.
Tightening the velcro straps of his gloves, Ichigo takes his position. "Wouldn't it be easier to just hand over your money beforehand?"
"You're so full of yourself, Kurosaki."
"Whatever, Shorty."
Ichigo gets pleasure in seeing the white-haired boy glower at him with his icy blue eyes. He's well aware that blocking three of Toshiro's kicks is no easy feat, there's a reason why he's the only freshman with a starting position and as their forward no less, chasing the record for the most goals in a season.
It shows when Toshiro quickly scores two in a row.
"You do know that the point of your position is to stop the ball, right?" taunts Toshiro as he sets up for another round.
Ichigo glares but says nothing. Instead, he braces himself, arms spread apart and feet ready to lunge to either side. Brows furrowing, he analyzes how Toshiro makes his approach, noting the way his teammate steps a little differently this time.
Without hesitating, Ichigo leaps to his right and deflects the ball from entering through the upper corner with a large hand. "You were saying, Shiro-chan?" he counters as he straightens himself up.
Toshiro immediately kicks the next ball directly to Ichigo's gut, knocking the breath out him. It forces him back a few steps before he can regain his balance.
"That nickname's off limits, bastard."
"Why?" says Ichigo, still breathless. It never fails to shock him how the smallest player on the team manages to outdo everyone. "Is your girlfriend the only one allowed to call you that?"
A rush of blood climbs up Toshiro's neck in both embarrassment and anger. He splutters for second, until he grinds out, "Leave Momo out of this."
Toshiro's next kick doesn't float over Ichigo's head the way it usually does, catching too much momentum and making it an easy overhead grab.
Ichigo has had enough sessions with Toshiro to read his technique and know what's his go-to trick when the game is on the line. And like he expects, the next shot looks like it'll head straight on but suddenly makes a sharp arc left. Ichigo barely gets a finger on it but it's enough to throw it off course and ricochet off the pole.
"Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face," grumbles Toshiro as they jog over to the sidelines for a drink of water. "That was a low blow and you know it."
"Whatever makes you feel better."
Practice finishes early, giving Ichigo enough time to shower and head to his Shakespeare lecture. He walks part of the way with Renji who figures he might as well show up to his Statistics section so he doesn't completely bomb the upcoming exam.
"Everything okay man?" Renji asks him, offering half of a protein bar.
"Yeah." Ichigo washes it down with a long swig of Gatorade. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Renji shrugs. "Just seemed a little out of it today. Yumichika actually got one by you."
"It was out of pity."
Rolling his eyes, Renji drops the matter by simply stating, "Make sure it doesn't happen again. We don't need his head getting any bigger than it is."
Ichigo appreciates that his friend has enough tact to sense that he would rather avoid talking. They part ways by the Student Center, leaving Ichigo to trek the slight uphill path to the Humanities building. He digs through his backpack and pulls out his earphones, plugging one into each ear. With the volume turned up, Ichigo tries to drown out his thoughts about a certain girl.
Since their last encounter, he hasn't seen much of Orihime in the library. It's been only two days but it's really beginning to bother Ichigo no matter how much he refuses to admit it. He finds himself eyeing the entrance when one o'clock rolls around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her walking through the doors.
And even worse, Ichigo can't help himself from overthinking their past conversation, contemplating how much damage his curt response could have done.
He feels helpless and stupid for getting all worked up over a girl he's sure has little interest about him.
What the hell is the matter with me? he thinks as he enters the lecture hall and slips into his regular seat near the exit. It's one the few rpws that's nearly completely empty. One of the perks of being an athlete with an intimidating mug is that students tend to leave him alone and give him his space.
More irritated than before, Ichigo drags out his notebook and pen.
"Before we start," says the professor when everyone has settled in, "I'd like to see who has been keeping up with readings. So I'd like to have a pop quiz before we dive into Othello . . ."
"Goddammit," growls Ichigo.
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…
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Relief washes over Ichigo when class finally ends. With graceful athletic ability, he grabs his things and slips out, successfully beating the swarms of students.
Nobody gets in his way as he heads to the Research Center to meet up with Rukia. Although she had been smug about it, Ichigo's grateful that she agreed to look over and revise his essay for History. He's certain if he turned it in on his own he'd be joining Ikkaku and Shuhei by getting academic probation. Other than the shame and the razzing he'd get from his fellow teammates, Ichigo doesn't need Coach Ukitake on his back.
Cutting through the Life Sciences quad, Ichigo is surprised to spot auburn hair. For a second he thinks he's imagined it, a result from his constant musing about her. But then it wears off when he nears Orihime.
Maybe it's because he hasn't seen her in a while but she looks lovelier than usual. Ichigo notes that her complexion is paler but it only enunciates the color of her lips. The knitted cardigan and plaid skirt also compliment her figure nicely, legs long in a pair of winter boots.
Joining her outside one of buildings is a man with brown tousled hair and glasses. Much to Ichigo's displeasure, he's classically handsome with his charismatic smile and sharp jawline.
They're clearly in a deep conversation. It appears serious, causing Orihime's brows to pucker together at something the man tells her. This makes Ichigo slow down as he gets closer to them.
She's obviously not in distress or any immediate danger but Ichigo can't stop himself.
Orihime is in the middle of saying something when her gaze wanders and suddenly lands on him. "—oh, hello Kurosaki-kun~!"
Ichigo feels a pain in his chest at how her expression immediately brightens. She can't do that to him; she can't make him think he's special. It isn't fair when he's so helpless against her.
The man scrutinizes Ichigo when he joins them. Up close, Ichigo notices that the stranger is older than he originally thought, most likely a graduate student. Compared to his crisp button up and ankle-cut slacks, Ichigo can't stop himself from feeling a little lacking dressed in his soccer warm-ups.
"Aizen-san, this is my friend Kurosaki-kun," introduces Orihime cheerfully. "Kurosaki-kun, this is Aizen-san, my lab partner."
Aizen politely bows, posture straight but back stiff. "I wasn't aware you knew a jock, Orihime-chan," he says playfully but Ichigo detects a sour undertone to his words.
Orihime seems to sense it too. "Neh, but we met at Kurosaki-kun's job at the library."
Aizen arches a brow at Ichigo, evidently having difficulty believing such a thing. "Is that so?"
Orihime nods enthusiastically. "Un!"
"That's quite interesting," says Aizen with a smirk that gets under Ichigo's skin. "I guess the athlete stereotype doesn't apply to everyone."
"I guess not," answers Ichigo, glaring. He wants to say more and defend his teammates but for Orihime's sake he holds back; she suddenly looks uncomfortable, nibbling on her bottom lip, attention anxiously jumping between him and Aizen.
"Well," starts Orihime, addressing Aizen as she adjusts her bag's strap, "I'll review the results and run a comparison to last month's and e-mail them to you."
Aizen turns to her, offering a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Of course, Orihime. Sounds good."
Ichigo stares him down one last time before Orihime leads them away. He lets them round the corner of the building before blurting out, "That guy's an asshole."
He mentally reprimands himself for his language and his inability to keep his opinion to himself. Not only is it disrespectful to Orihime, it also supports Aizen's opinion of him as a thickheaded Neanderthal incapable of using his mind for a higher purpose.
Orihime's pace slows, forcing Ichigo to stop. His eyes widen when she bows to the waist, hair falling forward in a cascade of vibrant color. "Gomen, Kurasaki-kun," she says sincerely. "I'm so sorry that Aizen offended you."
I really am the worst. Ichigo immediately shakes his head. "No, no, it's okay Inoue. I didn't mean it like that."
She raises her head, doubtful. "Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah." Ichigo takes a moment to breathe. He doesn't want to mess things up even more. "I'm not upset or anything. It's just that his personality is a bit—"
"It can be difficult to handle," adds Orihime with a wane smile. "Don't worry, I understand."
Awkwardly, Ichigo rubs the back of his neck. Here is his, finally able to speak with Orihime and he still has no idea what to say. For God's sake he's an English major, words are suppose to be his thing.
"Where are you heading?" asks Orihime, pushing her hair behind her ear and away from her face.
"The Research Center."
Orihime resumes walking and Ichigo makes sure to keep his pace slow; every one of his strides amounts to two of hers. "To study?"
"Something like that."
"I see."
Ichigo peeks over at her when a silence falls upon them. She's looking down at her feet, lashes hovering low against the swells of her cheekbones. And suddenly Ichigo feels as though he just completed a round of sprints and a hundred sit-ups.
He clears he throat. "I haven't seen much you around the library."
His voice jolts Orihime from her thoughts. She peers up at him, large eyes blinking rapidly. "Oh, yeah."
She gives him another smile and Ichigo is beginning to learn that she has many different kinds, each one bearing a special meaning. This one feels a bit sheepish but warm nonetheless.
Orihime begins fiddling with the ends of her hair. "I actually had a Organic Chemistry midterm scheduled on Tuesday and then I had this review session for Calculus on Wednesday." She pauses and licks her lips. "I—I dropped by yesterday a little after three-thirty but you weren't there . . ."
Elation and relief fill up Ichigo's chest. But he tries to bury it back down, not wanting to get ahead of himself. There's no way she could've missed him like he missed her. "You did?"
She nods slowly, a light blush spreading over her face.
The edges of Ichigo's mouth curl up. "Sorry, for not being there," he says. "And sorry for being such a jerk last time."
Her smile broadens as she shakes her head in protest, hair fluttering around. "There's no need to apologize, Kurosaki-kun."
"You positive? 'Cause I have no problem letting you beat me up."
Orihime's eyes widened and then she starts laughing. It's bubbly and carefree, making her eyes crinkle up into crescents. "I don't think I'd do much damage," she giggles.
Ichigo uses this opportunity to examine her hands, grabbing her carefully by the wrist, fingers overlapping as they circle around. He's taken aback by how soft she is, skin smooth and bones fragile. "Hmmm." He takes his time, running a thumb over her knuckles. "I don't know. These bad boys look like they can pack a punch."
"Don't lie," she says with another laugh, breaking free from his grip.
"Well, the offer still stands. The next time I do something stupid just hit me and we'll call it even."
"I don't think I could ever do that," she admits.
Ichigo nods, taking in how the light in her eyes dim. "You're right," he tells her, voice low. "You're too kind to ever hurt anyone."
Her blush deepens. "I suppose."
She's beautiful, thinks Ichigo. And I'm so fucked.
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…
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Fifteen minutes late, Ichigo arrives at the Research Center where an annoyed Rukia awaits. Her violet eyes narrow when he takes a seat across the table. "Took you long enough," she says, tone haughty. "What? Did you get lost or something?"
Ichigo sighs. "Nice to see you too, Rukia."
"Whatever, moron."
He pulls out a folder and slides it over to her. "Here—I did it last night so I'm pretty sure it sounds like shit."
"You look like shit, too," she adds as she opens it and immediately begins looking it over. "You could have at least tried brushing your hair this morning."
Frowning, Ichigo leans back in the chair. "I had morning practice."
Rukia picks up her pen and crosses something out. "I can tell. Your outfit and bad mood gave it away."
"I'm always in a bad mood, though," he remarks, not bothering to stifle a yawn.
"True." A crease forms on her forehead as she reads a line. "Wow, are you sure you weren't drunk when you wrote this?"
Ichigo recalls opening up his laptop at eleven o'clock after a scrimmage match and trying to come up with something remotely smart. He'd stared at it the screen with tired eyes for about half an hour until he finally thought of an idea. "I might as well been."
Rukia gives him a disapproving look.
While she continues reading and editing, Ichigo takes advantage of the time and silence to rest his head against the table and try to nap. He thinks of Orihime's smile when she had promised to return to the library tomorrow. It actually makes him look forward to work, even if it means dealing with Keigo and his loud mouth.
"Okay," says Rukia when she's done, handing him his essay that's been covered in red ink. "It's not completely terrible but you'll need to revise the beginning. It makes no sense."
"Thanks," he grumbles, slipping it into his backpack.
"No problem."
Together they leave the Research Center, Ichigo walking Rukia to her Economics class as he heads to his discussion for American Literature. He half-heartedly listens to her complain about her Economics TA who seems to grade her harder than the other students.
"I think it's because he knows Byukyuya is my brother," she goes with a huff. "Which is completely ridiculous, honestly. Just because he thinks my brother is—are you even paying attention to what I'm saying you punk?"
"Hey!" exclaims Ichigo when she punches him in the gut. A lesser man would've doubled over. He nearly does too, especially because of the abuse he'd taken earlier with Toshiro. "What the hell is wrong with you, you damn midget?"
"You have this stupid look on your face," she tells him, arms crossed. "It looks like you're thinking too hard."
"I think you've insulted my intelligence enough today."
Rukia rolls her eyes. "You deserve it. Anyways, we're all meeting up today at eight to go get dinner. You're coming, right?"
"I don't know." Ichigo rubs the back of his neck, thinking of all the studying he needs to do. "I have all this homework."
"You're hopeless," she says. "Look, just try to get it done and text me or Renji later."
"Fine."
He leaves, wondering how Rukia can still find time to go out when he's barely scraping by. Then he remembers Orihime and how she's part of some research project and feels even worse.
She must be really smart, he muses, recalling the classes her mentioned earlier. I'm an idiot with a crush on girl too pretty and too smart for me.
Ichigo's almost certain this won't end well for him.