Hush of the Night
Another night.
Another sleepless night.
Rukia tossed and turned in bed, staring back enviously over at Karin and Yuzu who were both sleeping soundly. Even Kon, clad in a lacy dress and headscarf, was asleep on to top of the table.
Knowing it's impossible, she got out of bed and walked out of the room. The house felt empty… so very empty. There was a ringing silence as she stepped on to the hallway—something that only can be heard when all other white noise had died out. It rang and rang in her head, like an alarm bell, albeit not an uneasy one. It was like background music, she concluded, one that'll come in when the others has stepped out. The wooden floor felt cold underneath her calloused dainty feet, but she moved on.
She couldn't get any sleep in there.
Rukia glanced at Ichigo's closed door as she passed it. How long has she been here? Three… four years? A smile appeared on her lips. How long has she loved him? It felt like forever, but she can't say for sure when exactly she felt this feeling for him. Was it when he saved her from execution in Soul Society? Was it when they shared that ice cream underneath the summer sky? Was it when he confessed? Was it when he looked down upon her with all sorts of emotions in his eyes when she was maimed by that arrancar? Was it when they—
Rukia let out a tinkle of laughter.
It… didn't matter, did it?
Rukia tore her eyes away from the unmoving door and placed her hand on the railing. Cold. Everything felt cold at night. The ringing remained. She took the first step downwards on the stair. The creak it made seemed like an explosion. In the silence of night, every sound was blown up and magnified to an intense level.
The journey downstairs took a hundred years, for Rukia kept stopping after each step. The echo of the staircase was one thing, but the other was the thoughts that keep flitting in her mind. She decided not to think about it.
The darkness of the place was haunting. It seems like she was the only person alive in this house. It seems like all those hustle and bustle of the clinic, all the fighting, shouting and bickering of the Kurosaki father and son, all the laughter from Yuzu, all the sarcastic remarks from Karin… all of those things never existed. As if night time had swept any resounding life from the place, leaving it empty, hollow, and bare. The silence , the darkness and the whole atmosphere of this… it felt like it was smouldering against her. She took a breath.
"Rukia?"
She snapped her head towards the source of the sound. A figure appeared in her line of vision. Tall, but not lanky. Fit, but not muscular. "Ichigo?" It was funny; how she would call his name whenever she saw him. And he, in turn, would do the same.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She wanted to tell him a sarcastic remark—something like what Karin would do, or laugh at his bed hair—like what Yuzu would do, or slap him on the head saying that he was a busybody—something like what Rukia would do. But she didn't.
"Can't sleep," she concluded.
He got down the stairs, a smirk on his lips. Ichigo stroked her head and laughed. It was a habit he had fallen into—to stroke her head and laugh when they were alone. He wasn't very comfortable with public displays of affections, so a touch on the head and sharing a chuckle would do just fine.
"Want warm milk?" He stepped forward in front of her and headed towards the kitchen. "It'll help."
She smiled softly at him. Rukia got into step and walked beside him. They walked in sync with each other, like two wheels in a car, but in silence. Night time sweeps any resounding day time noises. If daylight streamed through the windows, they should at least be bickering now. If not, slapping, pushing, shoving like two little kids at a day care centre. Night time made everything sound different, seem different made people act differently.
She sat herself down on the chair as he placed two mugs of milk into the microwave. It beeped thrice— it meant 30 seconds till the milk was done. He stood beside the microwave, leaning against the counter, arms crossed and fingers tapping a beat on his arms. The ringing in her head disappeared; instead it was replaced by the faint tap-tap-tapping sounds he made, the whirr of the microwave, and the dim buzz of the fluorescent lighting above them. They still weren't bickering.
The microwave beeped twice.
Warm milk.
"Here," he said, passing on the mug to her. Ichigo sat across her on the table. He let his eyes stray over Rukia for a moment—from the tips of her disheveled hair, to every feature on her face, to her petite shoulders and then lastly to her dainty hands. He watched her as she stirred her milk, watched her as she held it up and blew on it, watched her as she sipped her drink. He drank his too.
He couldn't take it anymore.
"Something's on your mind. Tell."
Rukia looked up to him. He knew her too well. Should she? Should she not? She placed her mug on the table and looked downwards. Her hair was covering her eyes. Should she tell him? Should she not?
"Rukia…"
She looked up. "I have to leave, Ichigo."
He didn't act like what she expected him to. He didn't trash around, didn't even yell, not even a protest. All he did was ask, "Why?" Maybe was had matured over the times that she had stayed here. Maybe it was initial shock. Maybe… maybe not.
She didn't dare look at him, because she knew it would make it harder for her to say it. But she could feel his eyes boring in to her figure. "Because," was all she could say.
"I… understand."
She snapped her head to him. Didn't trash around, didn't yell, didn't even protest. He has indeed matured over the times. She didn't know what else to say, so she took a long drink from her mug and smiled at him. "Thank you."
He put his mug on the table and walked towards her. Ichigo reached out and stroked her head, a long and lingering touch. He wasn't laughing this time. He seemed tense. She wanted to apologize, so desperately wanted to say sorry, but he had already took her in his arms and held her tight. She shut her eyes tight.
This warmth… this scent… this feeling. She was going to miss this so much. She was going to miss him.
He pulled apart and kissed her. It took her by surprise at first—he was hardly ever this close with her—but then she relaxed and returned his kiss. He cupped her face, and drew circles with his calloused thumb. His eyebrows were knotted—more than usual. His arms felt tense; his whole body was rigid. He pulled away and Rukia had to look away from those piercing chocolate brown eyes.
It was a few seconds before the ringing silence ended.
Rukia took another drink from her mug. But Ichigo still stood there, his mug of warm milk now forgotten. He pursed his lips, and crossed his arms across his chest. He wasn't looking at her when he asked, "You're… coming back right?" For the first time in ages, she heard that he sounded unsure about that. In a way, she was also.
"…I don't know."
He let his hands hold on to her arms.
"Yuzu'll cry."
"Tell her I'm sorry."
He was starting to grip her now.
"Inoue would go nuts, bombarding me with questions tomorrow at school."
"You'll survive the interrogation."
His grip was starting to hurt.
"Dad would just go nuts, period."
"He'll survive without me."
"Rukia…" He let go of her arms and let it fall to his sides, limp and languid. His eyes looked… she didn't know what to say. There were too many emotions in those eyes. It was compelling her to reach out and be in his arms again. She wasn't going to cry, she won't, she won't! It felt like eons since either of them said a word, but the ringing silence wasn't there—there were too many thoughts in her head.
"Can I kiss you again?"
She stood up and cupped his face. They kissed.
"I love you," he whispered against her lips. "So much…"
She felt a tear fall from her eye.
The hollow disappeared into the thin night's air. The final blow had just been delivered and that didn't take more than 10 minutes.
Rukia took a deep breath of the crisp air and sheathed her zanpakutou again. The sky was black, with no stars or the moon to light up the place. The silence was cutting there, like the previous battle with the hollow never did happen. Rukia looked around. How many years has it been since she left this place? Three… four years? How many years has it been since she last saw those eyes? Last heard that voice? Last felt him beside her?
How many years has it been since she had missed him?
Did it matter anyway? Did it?
"Rukia?"
She was shocked. But Rukia looked towards the source of the sound. A figure appeared in her line of vision. Tall, but not lanky. Fit, but not muscular. Young, but no longer a boy.
"Ichigo?"
There was silence… the ringing kind.
"What are you doing here?"
She smiled at him.
"Can't sleep."
He returned the smile.
"Want warm milk? It'll help."
The silence was broken. And his heart was unbroken.