Title: Someone Like Us
Warnings: AU, graphic descriptions of violence, language, PTSD/depression, multiple personalities, UST, brief dubcon, explicit m/m sex, a racial slur, a cat
Summary: Ishida Uryuu is a young psychiatrist specializing in uncommon mental disorders. When he meets new client Kurosaki Ichigo, he is sure the man is just another depressive youth struggling to find his place in the world. Then he meets the rest of him.
AN: This is a much darker story than I usually write. It's inspired by Hollow!Ichigo and Kubo's intriguing dynamic of having two extra people inside of your mind at any given time. Especially when they don't always agree with how you're living your own life. For those dissuaded by the warnings, this story does actually have a nice ending, so don't expect too much angst. But still, not for the 'faint of heart' if you tend to be squeamish.
Suggested songs for this fic: "Angels" by Crywolf (T-Mass Remix), "Self Vs Self" by Pendulum ft. In Flames, "Days to Come" by Seven Lions ft. Fiora, & "Lighting Up the Dark" by Klaypex ft. Brandon Paddock.
"Your four o'clock is here, Ishida-sensei."
"My last appointment for the day was at two."
"It was a last-minute addition to the schedule, per the District Attorney's recommendation."
Uryuu's assistant Ise Nanao tosses him an impatient glance above her ovular glasses as she hands him the forest green file folder with a yellow tag indicating a new patient. He watches her march back out to the reception area and hears her politely advise the new client that the wait will be just a few minutes. Flipping the dossier open, Uryuu skims the information as he walks back to his desk, currently covered with a collection of research files he has been working on in his downtime.
"Kurosaki Ichigo, age twenty-seven," he mutters aloud to himself to better memorize the information quickly. "Occupation: nurse at 'Kurosaki Clinic'. Birthplace: Karakura Town. Reason for admittance…"
Eyes widening as he reads the short paragraph, Uryuu nearly drops the papers when someone suddenly stomps into his office and slams a hand flat to his oak desk. He jerks his head up fast enough to make his glasses slide down the slim bridge of his nose.
The man before him is immediately remarkable for several reasons. First, he appears to be infuriated to the point of physical confrontation. Uryuu's body tenses instinctively from years of martial arts and conflict management training. Next, this person has a striking appearance in the ways that he has disheveled orange hair, is over six feet tall in a country full of a shorter populace, and is also stunningly handsome. Finally, Uryuu deems him remarkable because he apparently has absolutely no qualms about causing a scene here at the risk of breaking his parole.
"It's all right, Ise-san," Uryuu tells the worried woman lurking in the entrance. She nods once and closes the door between them.
"What the fuck is your problem, man?" he shouts in a deep, rough voice indicative of a brief smoking addiction. "I've been waiting outside your office for twenty minutes already and you're just sitting in here reading some fucking papers like some kind of lame-ass bookworm! Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to make people wait? Huh!?"
Uryuu takes a slow breath and maintains eye contact with his fuming visitor. He has dealt with this before. Worse, actually. There have been a few instances where Uryuu has had to protect himself from imminent violence. That sort of thing comes with the territory when you do work for criminals and ex-convicts. Tapping his frames back into place, Uryuu lowers his eyes to fold the file shut and set it in place on one side of his desk. His fingertips meet in line with his sternum as he tilts his head up to look his new patient in the eye.
"Kurosaki Ichigo, I presume. Welcome. Please have a seat."
"Do I look like I want to have a god-damned seat, asshole?"
"Stand if you prefer," Uryuu magnanimously allows with a light shrug, "But please lower your voice, Kurosaki-san. There are other offices adjacent to mine."
"Lower my fucking—" Kurosaki ogles him incredulously, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. He gestures around the room with a wide-arcing arm and huffs a humorless laugh. "You think I give a shit about anyone else being inconvenienced right now?"
"Yes, I do, Kurosaki-san," Uryuu raises his voice to firmly state. His practiced authoritarian demeanor gets the man's attention enough to end his rant before it properly begins. "Because I know why you are here and I know that you do not want to exacerbate your situation if you wish to continue using your nursing license in the future."
He watches Kurosaki gape, then glare, then resentfully concede defeat. Some of the anger drains from his posture and Uryuu relaxes in tandem. Waiting, Uryuu releases a silent sigh when the man scoffs and rolls his eyes as he finally sits. In the seat furthest from Uryuu's current position and facing slightly away from him but towards the door, he notes. Already he is beginning to form a basic outline of Kurosaki's personality. From this five minutes of meeting, Uryuu gathers that he is the rebellious type. Smart but not used to thinking of himself as such. Independent yet vulnerable, seeking approval and affection that he has not experienced enough of thus far. Kurosaki has the instincts and tenacity of a warrior juxtaposed with the susceptibility and uncertainty of a lonely child.
Uryuu has seen it countless times. Someone who would normally be strong and confident is rendered meek and resentful from helpless anger and sadness. Kurosaki's wide brown eyes shine painful and desolate from years of cruelty and self-doubt, like a forgotten house pet. And this is the very reason that Uryuu takes these kinds of cases in the first place. Down to his very soul, he needs to help people. To see some of the injustices and miseries of this world lessened by his own hand. If he has a raison d'être, it is to diminish the suffering of misguided citizens like Kurosaki Ichigo.
"You gonna tell my P.O. about this?"
"No, Kurosaki-san," Uryuu assures him. Sympathy has already softened the minor offense and cleared it from his mind. "As your psychiatrist, I am obligated to keep our discussions in this office entirely confidential. Barring certain extenuating circumstances of which you are fully aware, as per the documents you signed upon arrival. That, by the way, is why you were made to wait twenty minutes."
"Okay, enough with this 'Kurosaki-san' bullshit," he grouses without conviction. "My old man is 'Kurosaki-san'. I'm Ichigo."
Surprisingly, that is a first. Uryuu has never had a client insist on being called by their first name. The idea makes him uncomfortable, however, so he decides to compromise.
"How about Kurosaki-kun?"
"I ain't your buddy, man."
"Then just plain Kurosaki should suffice." Uryuu slips up and allows some impatience to break through his professional conduct. He sees the mistake recognized in the way that Kurosaki's mouth twitches into a spiteful smirk. "If you don't mind."
"Don't strain yourself, Doc."
"It's Ishida Uryuu."
"'Then just plain Ishida should suffice'," he snottily mocks, smirk crossing into grin territory. Uryuu does something he knows he shouldn't: he smiles back. Not to throw Kurosaki off or to encourage him in any way, but because Uryuu realizes he is beginning to appreciate Kurosaki's rowdy personality. There is a distinctive cleverness in the way he cajoles. "Oh, looks like you're human after all."
"Unfortunately for you, Kurosaki."
"Unfortunately for you, Ishida."
And Uryuu beams internally with accomplishment; he has taken his patient down from irate to casual teasing in the span of minutes. Not bad for someone who has only been practicing for three years. Outwardly, he sobers and clears his throat in preparation to address the next topic. It's a sensitive one: the reason Kurosaki has been relegated to him by judge's orders. This is always one of the hardest parts because most people are unprepared to dive right into their issues at the outset. Yet, Uryuu needs to establish some things before he can agree to take Kurosaki as a client.
He uses this intermission to move from behind the barrier of his desk to the more open position of his grandfather's old armchair. Kurosaki shifts minutely but allows the decrease in distance. Allotting a moment for adjustment, Uryuu takes several measured breaths before diving into it. Kurosaki seems to do the same.
"I would like to discuss the recent incident you were involved in."
"What about it?" Kurosaki closes up, as expected. His scrunched brows dip further as he glares at Uryuu's numerous bookcases. He begins bouncing a leg agitatedly. "You want to hear about why I got arrested?"
"Yes."
"Fine. Your funeral. I'm sure you read all about how I attacked some innocent teenagers in the alley behind my apartment complex." Kurosaki's voice tightens with an intricate composite of emotions that he hides too well to parse at first listen. Uryuu's well-trained eyes and ears follow every nuance of speech, tone, cadence, and body language as he relates this difficult experience. "I'm sure you read that they were just minding their own business and that I ran over and started swinging. But that's not the fucking truth, Ishida! It didn't go down like that."
"How did it 'go down'?" Uryuu quietly encourages. He wasn't expecting this much from him so soon, but he is grateful for it. Establishing trust this early in their relationship could make counseling so much easier down the road. Although Uryuu suspects this is primarily possible because Kurosaki needs to talk about it. Needs to have someone understand and be on his side. "What really happened, Kurosaki?"
"Truth is those rotten little motherfuckers had a stray dog—a pregnant female—and they were poking her with sticks and kicking at her and shit. Those bastards cornered her against a wall and she was yelping…crying out because she was so scared and they were laughing. The poor animal wasn't even growling or snapping or anything like that. You could tell she used to be somebody's baby—" Kurosaki breaks off to glower at the floor and swallow back something heavy and oppressive. "And I saw one of them grab a glass bottle and break the bottom off…"
"They were going to attack her."
"Yeah," he snarls. Kurosaki curls his hands into fists on top of his thighs and Uryuu notes the contradictory slump of his spine. Signifying a desire to fight despite an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. "I heard one of them say something about dissection and I—I just fucking lost it. I don't remember dropping my groceries and running over to them. I don't remember grabbing the first one and knocking three teeth from his stupid mouth. I don't remember turning on the rest of them before they could run away."
Uryuu remains silent for a moment, integrating this. When he catches Kurosaki glancing at him from beneath his bright fringe, he says, "Memory loss is very common after traumatic events."
Kurosaki makes a face at that and Uryuu worries he said the wrong thing. But then he continues, "I guess. All I know is when I came to I had blood all over my knuckles. Four of the five brats were on the ground, passed out or screaming. I had the last one by his shirt, bleeding on my shoes and begging me to let him go. The cops came pretty soon after that."
Nodding slowly in comprehension, Uryuu observes the momentous relief that even this small bit of acceptance grants him. It presents in the way that Kurosaki's brow finally relaxes incrementally. The set of his shoulders loosens and his mouth smoothes into a neutral line rather than a deep frown. These are the types of things Uryuu likes to see. Those moments when his patients get a break from the weight of their own self-judgment. This is what he strives for with a first visit.
"That must be why your sentence was so light, plus the fact that most of them were very close to adulthood. There was video footage of the whole thing, wasn't there?"
"Yeah. The judge gave me community service and told me to see a therapist for anger management or some shit. Not like I haven't had counseling before."
"As a child, you mean?"
"And as an adult. Never seems to do any damn good."
Uryuu can read the loss of hope clearly in that statement. Kurosaki has likely been in and out of the offices of therapists, counselors, psychiatrists, analysts, and more over the years. Always hoping that this time they'll cure him. Or at least teach him a way to deal with the urges, the depression, and the rage he suffers each day. Uryuu never wants to see that hope die.
"I would like to accept you as a client, Kurosaki," he interrupts the man's thoughts to offer. "At least for the duration of your mandated term. Possibly longer."
"What makes you think I'd want to get my head shrunk by a guy my own age? How are you even a doctor?"
"I graduated high school two years early, earned a dual Bachelor of Science in Microbiology and Zoology with minors in Psychology and English within three years. Plus, I combined my psychiatric externship with my final year of medical school," Uryuu expertly recites. He has had his credentials questioned by more than a few of his clients, thanks to his age. "I have been practicing for three years now and making such a name for myself so far that the District Attorney occasionally sends me recommendations personally."
"Oh."
Kurosaki looks him over at that, reevaluating. He was ready to dismiss Uryuu for his youth in spite of his obvious skill, but he isn't going to hold that against the man. Wiser people have made the same mistake countless times throughout history.
"Still, I don't have the cash for this kind of place."
"It's pro bono."
"Seriously?"
"Mn," Uryuu succinctly confirms. And if it wasn't, he would happily make arrangements to keep Kurosaki on rotation. He knows he can help this person. There is a gentle, thoughtful man beneath the violent impulses and the poor decisions. Uryuu fully intends to dig him up and polish him like a retrieved relic. "The government will cover you for twelve weeks. After that, we can work something out if you would like to stay."
"I'll think about it."
"Please do. In the meantime, is there anything you would like to know about me? This is our introductory session, after all."
Kurosaki takes a breath and casually leans against the back of the couch. Uryuu thinks it is more a mere display of ease than a genuine preference. He is feeling uncomfortable now that he is reminded that Uryuu is a stranger, having just poured a considerable part of himself out to be evaluated. That is probably why Kurosaki reacts the way he does.
"You single?"
"Yes."
"Live alone?"
"Yes."
"Fancy apartment full of a whole lot of empty space and bland furniture like this white sofa?" Kurosaki flicks imaginary lint from the pristine cushion before turning his gaze on Uryuu. "Closet full of boring button-ups and pressed slacks?"
"…Yes."
"I bet you don't talk to your family anymore, huh?"
"How did you—"
"The only picture you've got in here is of an old geezer," he explains, pointing to the photo of his grandfather perched on one of his many bookshelves. "Going by the sepia tone and cracks in the velum, it was taken years ago so he must be dead already."
Uryuu feels a shard of irritation chink his armor. He frowns and lowers his gaze as he performs a quick breathing exercise. The fact that Kurosaki is intelligent occurred to him, of course, but that he could extrapolate such things at one glance…Uryuu didn't anticipate it to this extent. He will not be caught off-guard next time.
"How is your relationship with your family, Kurosa—"
"I mean do you even have a life? If you study in your spare time and work all day, what do you do with all the money you make? Or is everyone pro bono?"
"Actually, I make hundreds of dollars per hour and cases like yours are a very small percentage of my roster," he corrects before he can stop himself. Uryuu adjusts his glasses again and his attitude with them. "Now, I'm sure my personal life is of no significant interest to you. Would you prefer to discuss your work life?"
"I wanna talk about how you look like you haven't been laid in months."
Mouth frozen mid-word, Uryuu clamps down on the retort his tongue aches to spit at that. He knows an attempt at distraction when he hears it and none of his patients has ever inspired such a flagrant loss of professionalism in him before. This is unprecedented. This entire scenario is completely unprecedented and Uryuu doesn't know what to do with it. He is only twenty-six years old, after all. Most people would still consider him a 'young adult', prone to bouts of indiscretion. So he does something else he knows he shouldn't do. He tells Kurosaki the awkward truth.
"Actually, I had a one-night stand last weekend, though it had been a while prior to that." That shuts Kurosaki up faster than any polite redirection could have. Before Kurosaki can continue on his runaway train, Uryuu gets an idea to save it. "How about a deal, Kurosaki? Since you seem to be curious about me, let's trade questions. I'll ask you something and if you answer honestly you may ask me something in return. Sound fair?"
Kurosaki thinks that over for a moment. Bites his lip and squints his eyes. He knows this is a double-edged sword. Uryuu would not offer something that would be solely to Kurosaki's advantage. On the other hand, Uryuu can tell that Kurosaki really is curious and has a host of additional questions prepared for him.
"Deal."
"Excellent. I'll begin: how is your relationship with your family?"
"Well, I work with my pops, so I guess we get along okay," he reluctantly shares, shifting forward to lean his elbows on his knees. More closed body language. "I don't get to see my two kid sisters as much as I'd like because they're married."
"What about your mother?"
"It's my turn," snaps Kurosaki with a sharp glare. Uryuu silently marks that delicate subject for a later date. "What about you—why don't you like your family?"
"My sole remaining relative is my father, whom I have not spoken with since I left his household at the age of fourteen."
"Damn."
"You said your sisters are married…Do you approve of their husbands?"
"One husband, one wife. Karin is a lesbian." Kurosaki says it with a splash of pride. Like he recognizes his sister's strength of identity and relishes it. "They're pretty cool people, I guess. As long as they make each other happy I couldn't care less about the rest. Those girls have seen enough hardship in their lives already."
Uryuu gives him a moment of quiet to reminisce in that dark place. He brings Kurosaki back with a small shift in his own posture that refocuses the man's attention, reminds him where he is. His next question is an immature way of getting back at Uryuu for sending him there to begin with. Kurosaki wants to know whether he went to his place or hers for his 'weekend screw'.
"I have never brought anyone back to my apartment."
"No one good enough for the amazing Ishida-sensei, huh?"
"The last time I did, at a previous residence, I regretted it within a day," Uryuu goes ahead and answers this time. He predicts Kurosaki would ask this one again anyway. "An ex of mine decided to try and move in while I wasn't home."
"Which is probably always."
"I believe you owe me two questions now, Kurosaki." Humor ebbing, Kurosaki demonstrates his attention with a tilt of his head. Uryuu leans forward a bit and says, "When was the last time you had a serious relationship—romantic in nature?"
"Never."
That makes Uryuu falter for a second. He is sure Kurosaki is not admitting to virginity. But he is also fairly certain the man can't have gone more than a quarter of a decade without becoming close with anyone. Especially since he is an exquisite specimen of function embracing form. The zoologist in Uryuu can't help admiring the shape of this person. From the rich-red and white-blond highlights in his natural hair color, to the sharp angle of his strong jaw line, to the considerable curve of biceps clear through his cotton t-shirt. From what he has observed, Kurosaki also has a reasonably likeable personality. Even under the duress of analysis, he is playful, clever, and confident. Uryuu can't imagine he hasn't had dozens of offers since adolescence.
"Do you mean to imply you have never fallen in love with anyone?"
"Nope. Not once," he shakes his head in emphasis, feigning disinterest in the topic. "There was this one girl in college but…it just didn't work out."
"Why not?"
"Ishida-sensei," Ise calls through the door after a brisk knock.
With a low apology to Kurosaki, he gets up and steps out of his office, shutting the door behind him.
"What is it? We were just getting somewhere."
"You're almost twenty minutes over," she tells him, pointing at her wristwatch. "Didn't you notice the time?"
"Ah. No, I was…"
"Distracted?"
"Something like that," Uryuu sighs, pushing his hair behind an ear. "I'll wrap things up. Thank you, Ise-san."
"Sure. I'll just pack up the files for the day."
"Thank you."
"Ishida-sensei…?"
"Yes?"
"Are you all right?" she asks with a critical expression. "It's not like you to lose track of time and that man seems—"
"I'm fine. I really was just distracted. Feel free to go ahead before me if you'd like."
Ise watches him uncertainly for a moment until Uryuu smiles reassuringly. Then she huffs an inaudible sigh and dips her head in acknowledgment. Slipping back into the room, Uryuu is not surprised to see Kurosaki sitting at Uryuu's desk and flipping through the leaves of his own dossier. He doesn't look up when Uryuu comes up to stand across from him.
"You know, Ishida, this lists my 'past indiscretions' but they've left a few things out. Sloppy work."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I did break a liquor store window when I was fifteen, but I also stole two bottles of tequila," Kurosaki tells him matter-of-factly. "That's breaking and entering in addition to theft. Plus, underage drinking after that, and giving alcohol to a minor since I shared it with my friends. Yep, definitely left out the good stuff."
Uryuu leans long arms on the desk and meets Kurosaki's smug gaze over the rim of his glasses. His hair shakes free from his ear and falls forward to brush his jaw as he says, "I'd love to hear all about it this Thursday. Now, please leave my office, Kurosaki."
The man's eyes widen and all mischief drains from his countenance. A rouge dusting of embarrassment tinges his cheeks and Kurosaki stands fast enough to jostle the rolling chair back a few feet.
"O-okay, yeah. Thursday works."
Puzzled, Uryuu watches the man book it out of his office. He shouts to him before he is too far, "Two-thirty!"
"What was that about?" Ise asks as soon as Kurosaki is gone. "What did you say to make him run off like that?"
"I'm not sure. But I think I've found my research subject."
Parking his silver Saab in the only corner of the garage not inhabited by overfed pigeons, Uryuu takes the stairs to his flat two at a time in his rush. He spent too much time researching again and Neliel is not going to be happy with him. Sure enough, as soon as he walks through the door, she opens her mouth and tells him just how much she hates it when he's late.
"I know, I know," he tells her, skirting her agitated form as he kicks off his shoes and sets down his briefcase. "I'm sorry, Nel! I'll feed you now so hold on a second."
Neliel's fluffy tail curls around his ankles at the word 'feed'. He stoops to pick up his cat and promptly refills her bowl in the kitchen as promised. Purring immediately, she digs in while Uryuu pours a glass of water for himself. He takes quenching draughts of it as he pets her. Nel is used to this by now but that doesn't make him feel better about leaving her alone for so long. If he thought he could pull it off, he would take her to the office with him every day.
Nearly spilling his cup as his phone unexpectedly rings, Uryuu fumbles it from his pocket and reads 'Inoue Orihime' on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Uryuu-kun, answer your door!"
The call abruptly ends. Uryuu stares at his phone for a tense moment.
"Wha—"
His doorbell rings and Uryuu retraces his steps back to the foyer with no small amount of trepidation. This is a scene straight from one of those thrillers he's always watching. Luckily, it is only Orihime when he answers the door. She is holding an enormous stack of boxes and he grabs them before they bury her with their toppling bulk.
"Whew! Thanks, Uryuu-kun. I thought I could make it up the stairs with them but I might've dropped a couple in the bushes."
"What are these?" he asks, setting them on his coffee table and picking up a pastel pink parcel. "And why are you here? Not that you aren't welcome, of course. I just wasn't expecting anyone."
"I texted you earlier, remember? About a crafts night."
Uryuu looks closer at his phone and notices about a dozen unread texts. When was the last time he checked his phone? Orihime makes herself comfortable on one of the couches and begins assembling boxes across the table and floor. Having finished her dinner, Nel joins them and finds a scrap of ribbon in the pile to bat and bite. He sits beside them as Orihime warmly greets the cat, taking advantage of an unguarded belly to rub.
Inside the boxes are a collection of colorful fabrics, stuffing, and sewing materials. It isn't unusual for them to have craft nights, but Uryuu might be too distracted to enjoy it as much as Orihime tonight. Not for the first time he wishes he could tell her about his clients. Uryuu thinks having another person to bounce ideas off could be very beneficial for several reasons. Yet, he knows that keeping his patients' confidence is always the priority.
"Oh," he says, glancing down at himself. "I should change. Be right back."
In his bedroom, Uryuu shuts the door and takes a moment to collapse against it. These kinds of random visits serve to remind Uryuu that he is a person, too. Just like all of the people he counsels every day. He has his own issues to deal with outside of work. Life's unpredictabilities do not spare him. Something he forgets more often than he should.
The constricting tie is the first to go. Popping the button-mimic fasteners open, Uryuu tosses the shirt into its color-coordinated hamper and does the same with his slacks. Then he pulls out a comfortable pair of black lounge pants and a soft blue v-neck. Kurosaki's comments on his attire come to mind. Yes, Uryuu dresses for his profession but when he has a choice, he wears the same type of casual style as Kurosaki. In fact, he is willing to bet that most of the judgments people make about him at work would not apply to him at home.
Orihime has transformed his living room into a festival by the time he returns. Ribbons of gold and opal and tangerine sprawl across his floor; the devastation wrought by an under-exercised cat. Patches of felt and tulle and corduroy line the cushions of his couch; eager machinations of an overtly creative woman. Uryuu takes one look at the fluff caught in her auburn hair and chuckles good-naturedly. He reaches out to pluck bits of it out as she grins up at him.
"Did you have a good day at work, Uryuu-kun?"
"More or less. What about you? Invent any new dishes at the restaurant?"
"Only one," she tells him as he moves to the other side of the sofa and perches carefully between balls of yarn. "I made Nutella pancakes with pepperoni and garlic for our breakfast special."
"How did that go over?" Uryuu refuses to wince at the idea until he tries it. Orihime is not constrained by conventional culinary practices and it usually works out for her.
"Two people tried it and one of them liked it so much they begged me for the recipe!"
"Amazing."
"I could make it for you if you're hungry!"
"Thank you, Orihime, but I'm not really—" his stomach chooses that moment to assert itself. Her grin widens as he flushes. "Well, that is…I really don't have much to work with in the kitchen right now."
"Hmm, let's see," she hums as she leaps from her Technicolor nest and progresses to flipping open cabinets in the next room. "You have rice, tofu, frozen fish…and wine."
"I haven't made it to the store in a while." Orihime frowns reproachfully and folds her arms under her breasts. He braces for the inevitable chastisement.
"Uryuu, what have I told you about taking care of yourself? Do I need to start shopping for you again? Do we need to be roommates so you don't accidentally starve?"
"I'll go this weekend."
"It's only Tuesday!"
"Well, I—"
"That's it! I'll just have to bring home leftovers from work until you can go shopping," she declares. Uryuu inwardly cringes. While Orihime's customers may love her unusual style, he has a much more traditional palate. One or two adventures are fine but he doesn't think he can handle a whole week of them. "So you better be home by seven sharp, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Appeased, Orihime's blithe demeanor returns as she begins putting his meager ingredients together to make a simple dinner. He helps her, chatting casually about inane things as they work. It doesn't take long before they are finished with dinner and cheerily creating colorful things from scratch.
Although Uryuu really only has one friend, he is confident that he couldn't find a better one than Orihime. She is so full of light and love that her very presence heals. If only he could harness the power of her personality into a type of ray gun that he could shoot his patients with. He knows he is lucky to have her in his life. Even luckier to have found her again in college after passing her over in high school. During those years Uryuu had spent most of his time reading and studying to the exclusion of almost everything else. Focused solely on admissions tests, he didn't have time for the trivialities of friendship or fun.
That seems to be a trend with him, actually. It's not that he hates people by any means, but it has never been easy for him to connect with others. Losing his grandfather the way he did made Uryuu grow up too fast. He almost lost all faith in humanity as a result. Fortunately, he managed to cling to his hope and saw a light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel: escape from his father in the form of emancipation. Once he was out on his own for a while Uryuu was able to relax to an extent. To better understand himself and those around him. To make connections and draw conclusions that led him to this path.
Orihime draws him from these musings by producing her completed project for approval. Bright orange and fluffier than Nel, the stuffed creature resembles an amorphous dust bunny more than anything. But it sports a wide grin and big goofy eyes. Uryuu decrees it adorable and means it. He holds up his own patchwork pillow of muted blues and whites, receiving a hearty compliment for his endeavors.
"It's already eleven?" Orihime whines, reading the time on his phone. "I guess I should go home…"
"See you for dinner tomorrow? I can stop by your place instead."
"Okay! See you there, Uryuu-kun," she beams.
He helps her pack, tugging a bit of twine from Neliel's fatigued paws, and carries some of the boxes down to her car. Orihime gives him a warm hug and a quick kiss to his cheek before driving off in her pink coupe. As always, Uryuu is left with a bubbling sense of well-being after her visit. Still, there is a lingering sense of loneliness that no amount of time spent with that precious woman could ever alleviate. Jogging back upstairs, he scoops up Nel on the way to the living room. He flips the TV onto a pre-recorded show and snuggles until he passes out on his couch.