Note: None of the songs listed in this fic are owned by me. Neither do I fancy them. They are a selection of what the Danish charts offers their listeners. I'm not saying the songs are stricly necessary to read this fic, other than provide some atmosphere.
The lyrics are not meant to fit exactly. This is not a song fic, but a fic containing songs. The lyrics won't be a precise match as they aren't in real life.
It had started some time last week. Ichigo had been in need of doing some last minute homework and was therefore on the hunt for a suitable location to read the two chapters in Catcher in the Rye they had been assigned. Usually he was on top of the whole homework business, but last night had been a nightmare. He did not know what was going on, if the Hollows migrated or what the hell was going down, but he, Chad, Inoue and Ishida had had plenty of Hollows to hunt yesterday night.
This resulted in Ichigo almost falling onto the bed when he arrived home. The night ended too soon. If he had not known better, rather if the annoying alarm clock that was his father had not been practically impeccable, he would have thought he had only just dozed off.
When 6th period came, the blessed 6th period of freedom, he remembered the two chapters in Catcher in the Rye. He had almost wanted to scream aloud. He did not understand Holden, did not understand the world he was running around in and he certainly did not understand what on earth Sallinger was trying to convey.
It was with slight reluctance that he found an empty storage-room wherein he could sit and crawl his way through Catcher in the Rye. The book really annoyed him. Holden was a prick, a brat and most definitely a spoiled little shit. At least that was Ichigo's impression after the first three chapters.
Ichigo sat down with his back towards the wall and his ass on the ground. The storage-room contained old books, cleaning remedies and a bookshelf without a single book in it. The books were stacked on the floor in tall piles, resembling a miniature version of Tokyo or New York City. On the bookshelf was utilities to clean every possible kind of filth.
It was in this storage that he found himself during the free-period, right after lunch, with Catcher in the Rye in his hand and a displeased scowl. People did not seem to understand the different scowls he had. Ichigo had to admit he had not given this much thought until Yuzu pointed out one morning that he was wearing his tired-frown. Later he had been told he wore a hungry-frown, and so he found out his sisters could read his frowns like a book, he suspected his father also, but that man was a bloody liability.
It startled him when a radio suddenly turned on. He nearly jumped three feet in the air. An up-beat dance-song was quietly rippling the silence in the little storage-space and thus interrupting his reading. Now Ichigo might not like the book they were reading, but he did enjoy the subject. English was one of the courses his scores were above average and he intended to keep it that way.
He therefore tried his best not to send the book flying after the sound of the peppy hosts and the overly cheery choices of current popular music. It was not until he had read a little further that he stopped to think. The radio could not just turn itself on, that would have to mean he was not alone in here. With a resigned sigh he got up to peer around the bookless bookshelf, which was strategically placed in the middle of the goddamn room.
Ichigo did not know what he had expected, but surely it was not the sleeping figure of Ishida Uryuu. He was lying on his side with his back turned towards the door. His hand rested in front of his face and chest, both fisted lightly. He had made a pillow of some worn books and looked quite comfortable. The radio stood beside his head and kept spouting dance charts, FM-jingles and 80's hits much to Ichigo's dismay.
Ishida stirred in his slumber and moved his hand further up as if protecting his face. His glasses was off of his nose and had been placed beside the radio. The Quincy was sound asleep, nestled between books and bleach, sponges and brown soap. Ichigo could only stand there. He did not fully understand why, but seeing Ishida like this somehow made him relax his brow.
The darkhaired one always seemed to be on guard. Behind glasses, behind snide remarks, behind that Quincy pride of his, he had built himself a fortress. Impenetrable walls, arrow-towers every few yards, prepared to shoot whoever came near. Seeing the drawbridge open like this, peering into the kingdom Ishida ruled over, it seemed almost magical.
Now Ichigo had always been fond of fantasy literature. Especially when he was younger, his mother would read him all sorts of fairytales and stories of such. He enjoyed the tales of the knights that fought the dragon to protect the city, the clever boy from a land far away that ended up winning the fair princess, and the mythical creatures like elves, gnomes, trolls and wizards.
Somehow, seeing Ishida there, lying unprotected and vulnerable made him think of those stories. Ichigo slowly, quietly sat down as not to awake the sleeping boy and have the illusion broken.
The bell rang out of the blue and Ichigo found himself scrambling to his feet. He smacked the book closed and hurried out of the storage. If Ishida had found him hovering over him . . . Ichigo did not really want to think of what might happen. The archer was quite even-tempered unless he was dealing with Ichigo, for some reason.
7th period and all that that entails was painstakingly horrid. Ichigo kept thinking of Ishida sleeping and for some reason unbeknownst to mankind, Ochi-sensei thought he was the perfect person to ask all sorts of questions about Holden and his dubious actions. To make matters even worse, whenever he couldn't answer, Ochi-sensei kicked the question to Ishida who gave a straight and precise one.
From that day on, Ichigo would go to the storage-room to find Ishida sleeping there. He wondered why the Quincy needed the extra sleep. Ichigo was under the impression that Ishida's day consisted of school, sewing, reading and then early to bed. Maybe he cleaned a little too, he seemed like a neat-freak.
The radio would also be there. The station would differ, but the hosts and the music was still terrible. The latest smash-hit was David Guetta and Nicki Minaj' "Turn me on". Ichigo swore, he would open the Hellgate and fling the godforsaken radio through there if they played that song again.
But what confounded Ichigo the most, was that very object. Ishida did not seem like the type of person who thought Nicki Minaj to be a musically gifted protege of the arts. Ichigo had pictured him listening to classical, maybe jazz or folk, but never dance!
"Ichigo, you're having lunch with us today, right?" Keigo asked and looked at him with almost sparkling eyes. Ichigo felt bad about skipping lunch with his friends. Again. But he had found out that Ishida would retire to the storage-room during lunch, which gave Ichigo the possibility to watch the sleeping form a little longer.
"Sorry, I've got other plans." he said without sincerity, but Keigo did not notice. Instead he practically fell to his knees and put his hand to his forehead.
"What is going on, Ichigo-kun? You never eat with us anymore. Have you found other friends? Or could it be you've gotten yourself a girlfriend?" Keigo shouted the last part. He had turned ghastly white and his hand was covering his mouth in pure shock.
"Ichigo, you traitor!" he screamed with eyes the size of teacups. Mizuiro sighed behind him and grabbed his arm.
"Asano-san, stop pestering Ichigo. We should be eating lunch." he said with a pleasant voice.
"Why do you call my Asano-san? Why is everyone acting so coldly?" he cried while Mizuiro calmly dragged him to the roof. Ichigo, by now used to Keigo's rather dramatic personality, rolled his eyes and started out towards the storage-room.
He found Ishida on set already fast asleep. Ichigo sat down and began starring at his friend. He somehow got the feeling that by watching Ishida, the archer would reveal his deepest secrets.
And it did not hurt that Ishida was easy on the eyes. Ichigo had not noticed this at first, but after the first time, he later started considering Ishida studiously. It had been well hidden beneath a cold exterior, that nerdy facade and those damned glasses. When he would turn in his sleep and his school-shirt would ride up his abdomen to reveal that the white t-shirt underneath also had taken a trip up North, Ichigo found it near impossible to look away,
Now Ishida did that exact thing, and Ichigo felt his mouth go dry. He would swallow quickly, wetting his throat. The thoughts he was starting to have about the Quincy, he did not think them healthy. Especially because they had started making their way into his nights.
He had begun putting more thought into the radio, Ishida's sleeping habits and why he did not know more about his friend than he did. He knew Ishida was a reserved and quiet person, but it was next to nothing that Ichigo actually knew.
The hollow feeling that followed in the wake of that conclusion was not welcome in the least.
Ishida did not seem to be the type that would shake his booty to the heavy beats of dance music, shake his booty at all did not appear at all possible. This thought had awoken a beast. Ichigo now had to look Ishida in the eyes every day, even though he wondered how the Quincy would bust a move.
It could have been hilarious. It was not. One could wonder why, the thought of Ishida dancing could easily have been proved funny, but Ichigo did not think that Ishida would be a bad dancer. The archer was very flexible, very smooth. Therefore Ichigo had come to the conclusion that Ishida dancing would be a vision for the Gods.
"Right, Ichigo?" he heard Keigo say, receiving an elbow to his arm. Ichigo must have looked exceedingly bewildered, because the confirming grunt he emitted was met with a high-pitched gasp and a horrified expression.
"Ichigo-kun, you were dozing off again! You don't wanna be with your friends, but rather this mysterious girlfriend of yours! Why are not letting us in?"
Ichigo punched him in the face. "Shut the fuck up, Keigo!" he yelled and took a decisive bite of his lunch. Mizuiro and Tatsuki snickered, Chad remained passive and Inoue just kept smiling.
"I wonder where Ishida-kun is." Inoue wondered out loud. Chad nodded. Ichigo scowled. He knew very well where Ishida was, and he would have been with him, had not it been for the idiot Keigo. He had practically kidnapped Ichigo when class had ended.
"Who cares." Ichigo murmured and took another mouthful of his lunch. Chad simply looked at him and Inoue looked confused, Tatsuki too, Mizuiro looked suspicious and Keigo looked at Inoue's chest. When Tatsuki saw this, he received another punch to the face.
The conversation then turned to the upcoming test in math, the Kendo tournament in June and how Keigo should participate again.
Ichigo let his mind wonder once more, let it crawl it's way through a thick forest, following the cobble-stone road and heading towards the white castle adorned with a deep-blue moat, covered in waterlilies. On top of the castle wall a single figure stood. Calm, almost regal, simply waiting for Ichigo to come.
A month had passed since Ichigo had found Ishida sleeping for the first time and he had still to find out Ichigo was watching him when sleeping. Keigo still pestered him about his mystery girlfriend and Ichigo still punched him whenever he got a little too nosy.
They had moved on from Catcher in the Rye and was currently reading The Crucible.
So Ichigo now read about women getting burned because of this little bitch called Abigail. But he had to admit that watching Ishida was far more interesting. He made an agreement with himself. He would read a page, look at Ishida, read a page, look at Ishida, and keep it that way.
Until he found out he would get more time to watch Ishida if he read it all in one go. So he did that and spent the remaining 20 minutes watching the archer.
He had become a little friskier with the radio, changing the channel to something more tolerable. He had found a station that played a little more varied music, even something he could live with. At the moment it was Lukas Graham's "Drunk in the Morning" that was playing. Ichigo didn't mind that kind of music too much.
Ichigo had dared to move closer to Ishida's face. This gave him a wonderful view of the archer's delicate features. The long, dark lashes sometimes fluttering like butterflies, the snowy cheeks and the light-pink lips. They were slightly parted and a little chapped, but reminded Ichigo of budding cherry blossoms. Ishida's hair was a source of enchantment but also frustration. The raven-like strands would resemble obsidian in the right light, but would screen his face from Ichigo's view.
He never knew another person could be described like that, but apparently a poet was resting within.
So, while getting more daring with the radio, he also got a little braver with Ishida himself. He brushed the hair from his face gently, only to have Ishida turn to his left side, now screened by the bookshelf. Ichigo had wanted to kick him.
What was worse was that Ichigo did not get this feeling around Chad, Keigo or Mizuiro. So why the hell would he get it around Ishida? His heart would start beating as if following the rhythm set by an African drum duo and his hands would shake.
He had also started studying Ishida's hands. The almost invisible white lines that could be traced a good while up his forearms. Like spiderwebs they winded and twisted around his fair wrists and birch-like complexion. His fingers were long and thin, his wrist seemed so fragile that a single touch would fracture it. Actually, Ishida resembled one of those porcelain figurines Ichigo had seen in a window of an antique-shop.
Maybe that was why Ichigo had reached out for his hand. To see if Ishida really was made of porcelain. Of course Ichigo knew Ishida was tough. He had lost his goddamn hand, for the love of an unnamed deity! He had let his arms tear to save Ichigo, had been seriously injured to protect Rukia, had fought Mayuri, had combated Ulqiorra, had schooled Yammy. That made the corners of Ichigo's mouth lift. Only Ishida would've been provoking enough to challenge an Arrancar more than thrice his size.
When his fingers had made contact with Ishida's palm, they had started buzzing. Was this how reiatsu felt? He twined his fingers around the Quincy's hand. He let out a shaky breath. He did not understand why this was affecting him as it was. Even though he was only holding his hand, it felt so intimate.
His eyes was trained on their joined hands, so at first he did not notice. But he near had a heart-attack when he found a pair of azure eyes, bluer than the sky, the ocean, than bloody Lapis Lazuli, staring him right in the eyes. Because Ishida was not wearing his glasses those marbles seemed so much more intense. Ichigo could not move an inch. His heart was like galloping elks, thundering in his chest. Every tick, every tock of the watch seemed to last a decade.
Ishida just looked at him, did not say a word. Ichigo waited for him to regain his senses and start shouting at him, kick him in his face for his troubles. But Ishida blinked once, twice, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Ichigo felt a light squeeze to his hand and his mind went blank.
It took him a week before he could even look Ishida in the eye again, not to mention show his face in the storage-room. What was even weirder was that Ishida somehow did not seem to mind that much. He was alarmingly calm, sent Ichigo a look that said NOTHING WHATSOEVER to help him decipher what was going on inside Ishida's mind.
"You don't mind the radio, do you?" he asked when Ichigo crept into the storage.
"Why would I care about your goddamn radio?" he sneered and dumped down on his usual seat. Usual before he started sitting next to Ishida, so the seat he had taken the first time he had been here.
"I was trying to be polite, you should try it sometime." he retorted. "Dickhead."
"Y'know, you were a lot more friendly when you were sleeping."
"And you were being a lot more obliging."
That was their first conversation without any of the others around. It resembled their usual banter, but they both felt the underlying tension. It was not until Ishida had gotten up and sat down next to Ichigo that the Soul Reaper reacted on it, though.
His muscled stiffened, his knuckles turning white, almost looking like Ishida's skin. Skin's said owner stirred a little, then leaned onto Ichigo in a testing manner. He saw the eyelids drooping, and slowly Ishida's head ended up on his shoulder. Now Ichigo really could not move. His eyes found the sleeping figure and with near awe, he inhaled.
Ichigo then continued reading The Crucible, combing through the last few chapters quickly, for some odd reason feeling elated. Probably because he had not got an arrow shot in his face. He could not really figure out what else it could be.
"Ichigo, you've had sex, haven't you?" Keigo shouted and pointed at him. Ichigo just looked at him without the slightest indication of knowing what the hell the idiot was rambling about now.
"Your entire appearance gives off an aura of recent shagging!" he kept going.
"Shut up, retard!" Ichigo bellowed and punched him right in the mouth.
"What Asano-san is trying to say, is that you look happier." Mizuiro clarified and smiled innocently.
"Why do you keep calling me Asano-san?" Keigo cried from the floor but went unheard.
"Whatever." Ichigo dismissed and walked away. He made sure that no one was following him and disappeared into the storage, that by now is like a second home, almost.
Ishida was waiting for him, with a tarnished book in his hand. His eyes were flying over the pages and they were being turned with near superhuman speed. Ichigo threw his backpack down and slumped down the wall. Ishida had begun remaining awake when Ichigo was there. Ichigo found he did not mind too much. They bickered still, but the heat was gone. It seemed like it was the only way they really could talk to each other.
"Done with The Crucible?" Ishida asked and folded the corner of the page, indicating where he had stopped. Ichigo simply stared at the fingers nimbly folding and removing the book from view. He had not thought Ishida, bookwork extra-ordinaire, would fold the corners like a common man.
"Yeah, last night."
"You should read All Quiet on the Western Front. I think you would like it."
"It's not part of the curriculum."
"It might seem quite hard to imagine, but it is allowed to read outside of school. People around the world actually read for fun. I know it sounds completely impossible. I might add I'm a part of this mysterious cult, this movement of enlightenment, one might say. It requires a strong mind to walk this path, the school does not want you to expand your mind you see –"
"Shut up, Ishida!" he interrupted. Ishida could keep on rambling like that is you gave him the chance. The other merely snickered and shrugged. Sometimes he was still a prick.
"Here." he slapped a book into his lap and nestled down beside him.
"What the fuck is this? The Little Prince? Ishida, what don't you understand –"
"Just read me the first chapter. That's all I'm asking."
Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Why? You probably read it already?"
"I've never had it read to me. There's a big difference."
Ichigo sighed and turned to the first page. Ishida put his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. The Soul Reaper felt stupid. Reading a book the guy had already read seemed a little counterproductive. But for some reason, he felt that Ishida would like it if he did it. This compelled him to read. And after he had read the first chapter, he kept reading it. Both because it was good, but also because he saw a little smile on Ishida's lips.
A while after that, Ishida invited Ichigo to come home with him. Ichigo was again exceedingly puzzled as to why his insides felt shaky, almost as if his internal organs had turned to Jell-O. But, as with the book, the smile that did not really touch the archers mouth, but shone brightly through his eyes, as Ichigo had shrugged and said, "Sure, it's not like I've anything better to do." convinced him.
And it was true. Even though he made it sound like had tons of other things waiting for him, he knew that he would ditch them all to walk home with Ishida to his place. And then the nerves kicked in. He felt his heart speed up, reaching 200 mph and still going as they stood in front of the building Ishida inhabited.
It was concrete, not shabby, but not posh either. It looked respectable, but not boastful. It somehow could not be anywhere else Ishida could live. They climbed the three flights of stairs to the archer's floor and from his shoulder-bag he fished out his keys.
"It's quite messy, I hope you can manage." Ishida warned him, not sounding the least apologetic. It would not be Ishida if he was ashamed of anything he did or thought. Ichigo had found this quality extremely appealing when he had first started to know Ishida. For the love of love itself, he the guy sewed and had no qualms about making a grand show of a minor stitch-up.
When Ishida opened the door, he walked in with ease and disappeared. When Ichigo tried to mimic him, he tripped. It was an understatement to say Ishida's flat was messy, even quite messy did not merit the battlefield he found himself in. It looked like his apartment had been the sole casualty of an atomic bomb, an extraterrestrial war or Apocalypse itself.
Books was strewn and stacked on every flat surface, but exactly like the storage-room, they were nowhere near the bookshelf in the back of the living-room. Old paintings from Europe, America and he suspected Russia hung on the walls. Adorning the floorspace, old furniture from the 18th century or whatever, a seemingly Oriental carpet covering the parquet floor. He could not really tell, the floor was out of sight. But it was almost squeaky clean, he had to admit to that.
But the bookshelves was filled with porcelain figurines, sewing equipment and an old transistor radio. Last mentioned turned on, pushing another round of charts out in the flat. Ishida emerged from the kitchen and looked puzzled at him.
"Why are you standing there?" he asked with an inquisitive brow.
"Because only monkeys and soldiers can make it through the trenches of your apartment!"
"There's a path a little to your left." he informed and went back into the kitchen. Ichigo removed his shoes, looked a little to his left and found a trail only a bloody Navajo-indian would be capable of spotting. He edged his way over to the couch and sat down.
"Ishida, have you ever wondered why bookshelves are called bookshelves? I might be going out on a limb here, but I do think it's because they're supposed to be shelves for books."
"I need the shelves for other things."
"How did it get to this?" Ichigo asked as he kept scouting the apartment for any signs of life. People, not to mention animals, could be swallowed whole. Quicksand was less dangerous than Ishida's apartment.
"Ryuken only gives me enough money to cover the bare minimum, so I had to buy my furniture at the thriftstore." he started and came in with two cups. One with tea and the other with coffee. Ichigo received the one containing coffee. "But across the hall," he continued and took a sip, "lives an old lady. She knows about my situation, so whenever she finds something she thinks I might like, she buys it for me. My apartment looks like a yard sale because she sometimes cleans up in her apartment and gives me the surplus."
Ichigo stared at him. "You could throw it out, y'know."
Ishida shook his head and looked around. "All of these things remind me that there's still someone out there who cares about someone like me."
He looked away from Ichigo and took another drink. "Her husband died a few years ago. He was a German citizen and therefore they owned a lot of German books, him being an avid reader. When he died, there wasn't anyone to read all those books and she gave them to me. Last year she went to Spain and bought me Don Quixote de la Mancha because she heard me say Mala suerte one time. Every time she remembers it, she asks how his adventures are coming. I've been forced to learn Spanish because of that."
Ichigo did not miss the genuinely happy smile that passes Ishida's features. Ichigo takes another drink of his coffee, somehow wishing that he too could find something Ishida would go out of his way like that to fully appreciate. Ishida then handed him a book and got comfortable.
"Today's pick, The Count of Monte Cristo." Ishida announced and and gave a little smile, radiant truly in his eyes. Ichigo conceded and put down his coffee.
"Why do you always have your radio turned on?" Ichigo asked on his fourth visit. At the moment a young singer named Katy Perry was telling the listeners about last Friday night. Ichigo looked at the radio with annoyance. That particular song seemed to be the mass populace's idea of good music, being played non-stop. 92.9 could kiss his ass!
"The apartment is . . . it's very quiet without it." Ishida said with a low voice as he searched for The Count of Monte Cristo. He had apparently misplaced it. Ichigo was amazed that he even bothered looking for it. In this wilderness it might be lost forever.
"What's wrong with the silence?" Ichigo said, starting to skim the different titles next to him.
"Nothing. But coming home every day to the same eerily quiet apartment . . . I don't know, it just got to me. I found the radio in a thrift-store and figured I might as well try. It's stuck on 92.9 FM, but it dispels the silence."
Ichigo lifted his head to stare at the archer. He never thought about how Ishida was going about living alone. Hell, he did not know why Ishida lived alone in the first place. He suspected it was Ryuken, his father, that was the main reason. Ishida had told him about the fight with Mayuri, had told him that Mayuri had remarked that he was a genius, Ichigo had not even lifted his brow at this, but his father told him the exact opposite.
"You have no talent." Ishida would repeat dryly and smile a lifeless smile. The smile of someone with a broken spirit. Ichigo had then wanted to punch Ishida Ryuken in the face.
"Why dance music? I've always figured you to be a classical kinda guy. Mozart, y'know?" Ichigo asked while Ishida is in the kitchen making tea.
"I do like the classical, but I prefer Tchaikovsky over Mozart." he replied and came out with two steaming cups, both with coffee this time. He put them both down and went to the third pile on next to the bookshelf.
"When I was younger, Ryuken had me taking piano-lessons. I think he wanted to take my time away from being a Quincy, his way of stopping me from using my bow. Practice was almost two hours a day and the pieces weren't exactly child's play. He had me practicing Raindrop Prelude at the age of eight."
Ichigo simply listened and drank a little coffee from his cup. "My mom bought me a guitar. Never forced me to play it though."
"That's the thing. I like classical music, but I don't like being reminded of how much time I wasted on it. As long as it's something other than Chopin it'll do."
Ishida found the tales of the dear count and threw it to Ichigo. He sat down next to him and pulled up his legs.
"Besides, my radio's stuck on that one frequency, even if I wanted to, I couldn't find a better station."
"Why do you sleep at school?" Ichigo asks when he is now made it a habit to walk Ishida home. Sometimes he would be invited inside, sometimes Ishida wanted to sleep, sometimes he had stuff to do with the student council, sometimes he had to go see Ryuken. Apparently Ishida had to ask him in person for more money when he had exceeded the finite amount given each month.
Ichigo would then go home and do what he did. Homework, fighting his father, hunting Hollows, help Yuzu or Karin with their homework, occasionally help his father in the clinic, sometimes going shopping, sometimes being dragged shopping by Keigo.
"I sleep very lightly at night. It takes nothing and I wake. I can't remember a night where I haven't woken up at least twice." Ishida replied. He had been reluctant to answer Ichigo's questions at first, but slowly he had started sharing.
"My bed's in the middle of the room because my neighbors have odd hours of doing the horizontal cha cha." he added while scratching his cheek. Another thing Ichigo had come to like was the way Ishida expressed himself. While he could be rather awkward when put on the spot emotionally, when given enough time he would answer eventually. And the answers tended to have words Ichigo did not understand. He thought Ishida did it deliberately so that he had some sort of barrier still.
Ichigo did not care. He had an encyclopedia and a compliant memory so he figured out what Ishida had said in due time.
"I sleep at school because I sleep better during the day." he finished and picked up another book. He threw it at Ichigo who caught it with both hands held out like an alligator's jaw.
"Treasure Island." he said and laid down on the couch. Ichigo sat down as well and Ishida pushed his upper-body up, before letting it down, placing his head in Ichigo's lap.
"Do you ever run out of books?" he asked with fake exasperation. Ishida simply smiled and Ichigo found his stomach turning and spiraling, flopping and churning.
Ichigo knocked on Ishida's door, hearing the radio through the plywoody door. He was not cool with Ishida living behind such a frail door, but he did not really think Ishida would appreciate him thinking of his door as a security breach. So he kept his mouth shut while praying to whatever God was working this district that no robber would try to break and enter. Then again, the robber would fall prey to the ingenious trap that was the very lay-out of Ishida's apartment.
"It's open!"
Ichigo walked in and found Ishida on the couch. The tunes of Lukas Graham's Drunk in the Morning floated through the apartment and Ichigo smiled deviously.
"What?" Ishida asked and looked a little worried.
"When I'm drunk in the morning, I'm calling you. You might be lonely, lonely!" Ichigo sang. He started miming to the tunes of Lukas "quite the asshole" Graham. Ishida fought to keep his smile down, but as Ichigo also started doing something that could resemble a dance-routine, Ishida broke. His laughter was full, almost bell-like, clean and a little high-pitched. Ichigo threw himself down on the couch and looked at the archer with a serious face.
"And we never mention this again." he said, his voice quite plausibly sounding like a bank-manager, dry, serious and without a trace of joy. Ishida held his hand up to his mouth, as if to contain his laughter, but shook his head.
His face suddenly became deadly serious, like that of a motician. "Not a word."
Ichigo found he really liked Ishida's laughter. The sound was not as he had expected. He did not know exactly what he had thought it would sound like, but not this. Ishida leaned back and looked at him. Their eyes met and Ishida's mouth broke into a little smile, Ichigo suspected his face mirrored the archer's but none of them said anything.
An arrow whistled just past his ear and Ichigo spun around on his heel. Ishida looked at him, wonder clear in his face.
"What the fuck, Ishida! The Hollows, hit the Hollows!" he shouted and flung his arm out.
Ishida furrowed his brow. "My aim's not that bad, Kurosaki."
A Hollow screamed over their heads and Ishida raised his bow, ready to shoot. Ichigo jumped up, intending to slice it up before Ishida even got the chance to fire. Another arrow hissed it's way past his ear. Ichigo smirked, Shun poed up besides the Hollow, let Zangetsu have his way and cleaved the Hollow down the middle. Ishida's arrow flew straight through, in between the two disintegrating parts.
"What was the point of that, Kurosaki?" Ishida yelled and pushed a hand through his hair. Ichigo did not know. He had just wanted Ishida to acknowledge his existence. When they were in his apartment, Ichigo felt like the center of Ishida's world. Outside it, he was nothing but a speck of dust on his glasses.
"Ishida-kun! Watch out!" Inoue screamed and Ishida whipped around, meeting a Hollow's tail. He was hit in the middle and was flung through the park. He hit the ground, rolled and coughed. The Hollow came closer, it's white mask shining in the moonlight. Ichigo had never used Shun po and felt it move slowly. But it truly felt like that time Ishida had caught him with Ichigo's hand in his, when he had simply stared.
A roar rippled through the park and the Hollow was almost over Ishida's still figure. Ichigo tried to turn the steps into strides, but found the task impossible. He wouldn't make it. How could Shun po not be fast enough?
Before Ichigo got any closer, the Hollow suddenly scattered as little pieces of reiatsu. Ichigo landed a second after, just in front of Chad. Inoue came running and summoned the golden healing-shield thing. He had never gotten the names for her hairpins right. Chad's left arm turned back to normal and he turned to Ishida.
The Quincy pushed himself up on his elbows and glared at Ichigo. "You should've let me shoot that Hollow."
Ichigo could not really contain himself at this point, so he simply glared back with disbelief. "I can't believe you're hung up on the fact that I got the Goddamn Hollow before you!"
"That's not what he means, Ichigo." Chad said with a deep voice. Ichigo blinked and moved his now surprised stare to his best friend.
"If you had let Ishida get that Hollow, you wouldn't have been so far away, and I wouldn't have had to leave my area to kill it."
They had decided to have different areas to cover. Ishida and Inoue would be the center. Ishida would provide a grounded air-support, Chad and Ichigo would each have to cover 180 degrees of a circle, approximately a mile wide. Inoue would be on the look-out and function as a medic. Ishida had protested when she had wanted a part of the circle watch.
"Inoue-san, you don't have it in you to kill. Have you never wondered why only one of your Shun Shun Rikka is capable of direct attack?" he had said with a quiet, yet firm voice. Inoue had looked down and then nodded.
"That's why I told not to go after that Hollow." Ishida sighed and got up. Inoue's healing-shield had done it's job and even his clothes were clean.
"I'm sorry." he said with a low voice, trying not to sound to aggressive. Ishida eyed him with slight suspicion and then sighed.
"Just be careful next time." he said and that seemed to settle the matter.
They disbanded quickly after that. They had a physics test tomorrow and Inoue admitted to not having read a single page. Ichigo suspected Chad to be a little behind as well, but did not say anything. He had caught up, and understood the equations and whatnot, because Ishida had walked him through it all last night.
They were alone and Ishida turned to Ichigo with a light frown on his forehead.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. There was no bitterness, no resentment, not even a trace of worry. Just slight curiosity and a glint of inquisitive wonder. "It doesn't look like you to stray from your area and trespass into mine like that. What brought that on?"
"I don't know, Ishida!" he sneered, he had not intended to, but he wanted the other to leave it be. Ishida walked up beside him and studied him silently.
"If you don't want to tell me, fine. Just figure out what's going on before something like this happens again. If Sado-kun hadn't been there I could've been seriously injured." Ichigo waited for him to add, "before you could save me," but nothing happened.
They did not notice the first droplets that started making their way down the sky. They did not see the clouds drawing closer together, the mercury-streetlamps shining clearer or the hear the crickets still their creaking.
When Ishida felt the first prickle of rain, it was practically pouring down. Ichigo did not notice before Ishida looked up towards the night-sky, the drops bouncing from his skin, making it look like a halo in the light of the streetlamps. Ichigo swallowed and stared unabashed.
Ishida turned his eye towards him, face wet, hair plastered to his face, water dripping from his nose and chin, the ends of his hair and his earlobes. He pushed the drenched hair out of the way, not doing a very good job of it. Ichigo's fingers itched to move the rest of the strands back over his fringe.
They stared at each other. Really stared. While Ishida looked a little akin to nervous, Ichigo probably looked hungry. Ishida swallowed and looked away. Ichigo's body moved on it's own accord, as if bidding him to do something else than stand and stare like an imbecile.
He combed the stray hairs out of Ishida's face. Clearing his features, making him look pure and open. Ichigo had noticed how he would whip his bangs down in front of his eyes when he wanted to create distance between himself and who- or whatever he was talking to or about.
Ishida's azure eyes fired back to Ichigo. The Soul Reaper placed a tentative hand on Ishida's jaw. Slowly, painstakingly patient leaning in. His heart was feeling like a black metal drum-solo, threatening to crush his ribs. His stomach was feeling like a ship at sea, in the middle of a storm. Throwing the boat between waves larger than life, without a safe port in sight. His legs simmered with anticipation, as if standing in shining armor in front of the great dragon, that had just taken the princess.
Ichigo felt so many things, but thought so little. While his emotions and his body went wild, his mind was blank. It blackened completely when his lips met Ishida's.
Then it sprang to life.
It was like a sensory overload, an overwhelming flood of worries and joys, it was like he was being purified. The white waves washed over his being, sprouting from his lips and fingers, the places he touched Ishida.
His fingers tightened around the other's nape and pulled him a little closer. Ishida did not do anything. His mouth was still, his lips unmoving. Ichigo's was almost numb with sensation, immobile as well. It felt like the end of an era, like the beginning of a new chapter in a story. It felt fatal.
Then a thought pushed it's way though all the feelings and started screaming at him.
"What the FUCK are you doing? You're kissing Ishida! Ishida! He's a guy, you're a guy, negative and negative doesn't equal positive! What about him! Does he even want this? If you don't push him away now, it's what ordinary people call rape! Push, Goddammit! It's an order!"
The another voice came through and started whispering in harmony with the other.
"You're in trouble now. You knew something was up, but didn't you at all figure that it would lead to this? You're really out there now. What if hell and high water comes? Then what? You are really in trouble now."
Ichigo's eyes flew open. He pushed Ishida away and looked in another direction. He did not think he could stomach meeting the other boy's eyes.
"I'm sorry, we can't . . . we shouldn't be doing this. You're my friend … you're a guy. Wow, this is . . . shit! I'm really sorry." he rambled but when he looked up again, Ishida was gone.
The following days, Ishida did not come to school. Inoue told him that he had gotten himself a bad cold. Ichigo tried calling him, he had seen a phone at his apartment and with a little searching through the phone book, he found Ishida's number.
Ishida did not pick up.
And just like that, Ishida severed all contact to him.