Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach and probably anything related to it. I hope he doesn't mind I borrow his characters every once in a while for my silly stories.
Tragedy
Ichigo Kurosaki's life has always been shitty but this takes the icing on the cake.
His hands grab tightly the railings and tries to breathe but it feels impossible. A cage of iron and regrets smashes his ribs. There are tears of frustration and hopelessness that won't fall and a primal scream is lodged in his throat. It would take a cataclysm of universal proportions to displace it. Because Ichigo is done. He lets his head fall on his arms. Thinks of small hands and tiny whispers, of innocent smiles and kind caresses.
Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.
"Doctor Kurosaki, are you all right?" The kind voice startles him and he straightens himself before looking back at his nurse. Her kind eyes are full to the brim with worry and Ichigo hates seeing that, hates the compassion right now.
"Thank you, Isane-san, I am fine." His voice is hoarse tinged with something, which resembles too much to a crack, heart bruised – a small fluttering lump within a prison of nothingness.
"Sir, it wasn't your fault." She says, hesitating a little.
"Right."
He passes his fingers through his hair. He scrubs his face, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes sockets, trying to relieve some of the tension. But there is no point. It is always somebody's fault. It is always his fault.
"Doctor,…"
"I will go home now, Isane-san. Call me if there is any change."
"But..." One look and she nods. "Yes, doctor Kurosaki."
Ichigo leaves the hospital twenty minutes later with clear instructions from the management to take some time off. If it were possible, he would take time off from his own life. He drives aimlessly through the city because he knows that this is the last time he screws up. Maybe it is time to stop, stop from doing anything, from fighting against it, from trying to be better when at the end of the day he will always fail. He will not be enough.
He stops the car and follows the footpath besides the river that crosses Karakura town like a massive blood vessel that will not break. It helped the city to evolve and be the powerful economical center that it is nowadays. And Ichigo wishes he could escape it.
After about half an hour of aimless wandering, he stops on the bank of the river and collapses, taking in the huge moon hanging on the sky. Despair mars everything around him. What is he doing with his life? He is twenty-eight and already feels a century old. He draws his knees to his chest and lets his forehead rest on them.
This is the end. He refuses to take a step further. He will not embark on another journey when the end result is always the same. The life that he had envisioned for himself is long gone now like a smoke mirror reflecting only the worst in him.
Failures, so many failures to protect the people that he loves.
Mom.
He still remembers her beautiful smile and the way she used to look at him like he was something precious, worthy of love. His mother was like angelic glue, keeping the family together in so many vital ways. All of them depended on her and he let her down. Even when he reached for her when the attacker pointed the gun at her, he was still too late. His body had been too small, too frail, and unable to keep the bullet inside. It pierced his weak shoulder and tore through bone and muscles, through veins and fibers until it got stuck into his mother's chest and left her to bleed to death.
By the time the police and doctors arrived, it was too late. Masaki Kurosaki was found in a pool of her own blood with her son still resting on her chest as if trying to hear her heartbeat. His stark orange hair had been mated with blood, glistening in the eerie multicolored lights of the sirens like an ominous sign. They almost lost him too. And sometimes, lately most days, Ichigo wishes they had.
By the time he got out of the hospital, his mother had been already buried, his sisters crying themselves to sleep and his father the shadow of the man he used to be. No one ever blamed him for what happened, nobody threw to his face that he let is own mother get killed. They treated him like he was a victim as well. But it wasn't true.
He knew better. His failures made him stubborn, problematic. Although he applied himself at school, he refused to take anything else seriously. He would take care of his sisters, he would help his dad at the clinic, but it was as if he was never there with them. And then one night when his father left for a conference, leaving him with his sisters, some burglars, clearly knowing what was going on, tried to steal any valuable objects. Ichigo tried to protect his sisters and almost failed. They were hurt as he disarmed the attackers. For a sixteen-year old boy, that had become a tremendous feat and his father told him at the hospital that he was proud of him. But Ichigo could see only his sisters, bruised and bleeding, and it didn't matter tat he had a broken arm and a concussion, and some broken ribs as well, his lean body covered in bruises. All it mattered that it had failed again.
He can't protect the people he loves, the people he cares about no matter how hard he tries. He pushes his knees into his eye-sockets to stop the tears from falling. Tonight he lost a patient. She was a really sweet girl, ten years old, ready to taste life, and he couldn't protect that small innocent life from the ugly disease that had attacked the light with its twisted shadow. He lost her and nothing, not even his prayers could protect that small but precious life.
"Please, enough." He whispers brokenly because he can't face going to his empty apartment, where no one is expecting him, where no one misses him or wants to have him around. And he can't go to his family's house, with his mother's pictures everywhere, pictures that keep remind him what a terrible son he is. He can't go to his father and his understanding looks and he can't go to see Karin who would try to knock some sense into him or Yuzu who would feed him to death.
He feels a sob dislodging from his soar throat and floating around him like a unimportant scream of help. It is almost immediately drowned by the sounds of the river so the rest of the night passes in a blur of self-pity and depressive thoughts. However, by the time the sun rises in a huge ball of fire and light, Ichigo has already decided to leave for a while, maybe even find himself if there is such a thing.
He goes home, huge empty eyes not registering for the first time the blankness of his own house, its sterile air, and impersonal atmosphere. Whenever people had confronted him about it, he just answered that he was spending too much time at the hospital and there was no time for trifle matters like decorating his house. He packs really quick some t-shirts and jeans, takes a small black book that his sisters gave and walks out without looking back.
He just makes a brief call to his father to inform him and for the first time Isshin doesn't try to stop him, maybe getting sick and tired of his son's antiques. Or maybe there are too many unspoken truths floating around them like poison in a glass of water. He refuses to call his sisters. They might try to stop him and Ichigo doesn't have enough strength to argue about it.
For the first few days he travels around, driving along the river, as if there is something guiding him in a world of darkness. It is ironic to say that he is trying to find himself as if he lost some pieces some time ago, but it is even more ironic to sit and occupy a life that had gradually slipped through his fingers, quicker than sand or water. He drives along small villages, or bigger cities, drowning himself in the anonymity. He loses his mobile phone after the first week and he doesn't care. His hair becomes a little longer but he refuses to grow a beard. He can sense people taking him in as his orange hair has always attracted attention, but the despair and hopelessness leave a foul stench in a human soul therefore the others stay as far as possible from him.
By the second week, he is tired of food eaten in small restaurants and cooked by others in greasy pans. He wants to settle somewhere in solitude where he can drown this whatever the hell it is and be done with it. Wallowing in self-pity has become his new drug of choice, even if most times he refuses to think about it.
It is almost a month before he finally settles into a cozy and picturesque town by the sea. The waves push stubbornly at the rocky shore and he likes the way the foam mixes with sand. There is a small white cottage by the sea, one that apparently belongs to a very healthy family that has chosen to rent it. It is clearly a touristy destination as beautiful homey cottages spring every now and then along the beach, surrounded by trees like a green veils hiding secrets. He loves his one though almost as soon as he sees it because it is away from the others, breathing alone in the salty air and Ichigo falls a little in love with the porch in the back that lets him have a clear view of the sea and the beach below.
He crashes in his small bedroom almost as soon as he closes the transaction with the middle-aged man who gives him the key with an amused smile hidden by a clog as if they just shared a secret. He sleeps for twelve hours straight with no dreams. It is the best sleep he had in a very long time.
The first few days at his out of sight little house are very uneventful. He cleans the house because there is so much dust he could plant a bed of flowers or two. His bedroom has a beautiful view over the ocean and its big windows are left open even at night to let the salty air renew everything. His kitchen has modern appliances and he goes to the local market to buy some fresh vegetables and fruits. The dinner he prepares that night is the best he had in a million years. He slowly but surely develops a routine. In the mornings he takes a walk on the beach, going as far as possible, testing his strength. Most of the times, he lets the water wash his feet taking his thoughts far away. At noon he visits the local shops and buys more books than he can read.
He makes exactly two phone calls: one to his manager at the hospital telling him he quits. Although not surprised, the manager tells him he will still take it as a prolonged leave. He feels it deep within his bones that he won't go back but any insistence now would make the conversation longer than it should be. The second is towards his father. This time the conversation is definitely much more animated as Isshin isn't so reluctant to express his feelings towards his sudden departure, but Ichigo ignores everything. Almost another month has passed and he feels better.
But then one cloudy morning Ichigo opens his eyes to a dark sky. He gets into a baseball t-shirt and some shorts to take his usual walk. Just as always he wanders around aimlessly, sometimes forgetting where he is or which path he has taken. The wind has become much more powerful almost stealing his breath away. He sits on the beach letting the wind crash into him, small splashes of salty water painting his face every once in a while. It is almost beautiful in its absolute devastating strength. He briefly wonders what would happen if he would just walk right now into the ocean. Would his bones grind in the rocks and the fish and his orange hair would disappear in the corrals?
"Sir, are you aware that you are on a private property?" The gravely voice startles him so bad that he almost falls on his back. He turns his head so fast he gets whiplash.
"What the hell?" He scowls at the tall man that looks down in disdain. The intruder is dressed in a blue shirt and some black slacks folded at the ankles. It is the most ridiculous thing Ichigo has ever seen in a while and the man seems so out of place here that he almost laughs out loud. Silky black hair flies around a noble face and cold grey eyes look at him with such superiority that he almost wants to punch him in the face.
"This is a private property." The stranger replies.
"There is no sign and I don't see your name engraved in the sand." Ichigo gets up and glares at the other man. "I have been here for the past month and no one told me that."
"Well, I inform you of this now. And you should show me some respect. I think you forget your place."
"My place?"
"That of a rude intruder."
"Seriously?" Ichigo can't believe this guy. "Well, I don't believe this is your land."
"It belongs to the Kuchiki family for ten generations." The other man replies glacially and his eyes swirl with anger, narrowing to a perfected superior look. "And I am the head of the Kuchiki clan, Byakuya Kuchiki. As such…"
"As such, you will leave me alone." Ichigo scowls. "Until I get a proof that you are the owner of this beach, I won't move a muscle."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, I actually think I will excuse you."
They stare at each other for a long time like two enemies about to crash. The intruder's grey eyes are alight with something, akin to awe. Maybe there hasn't been anyone to confront him before. His stance is tensed, ready to snap to attack. It takes a few deep breaths before he finally decides to let it go for now. He turns his back to the stranger; he refuses to acknowledge the name and leaves in the opposite direction. He doesn't remember if it is the same he came from, but it feels damn good to walk on that guy.
"I am Byakuya Kuchiki," he mocks him ruthlessly, "I am an arrogant asshole and I will tell you that this is my land, this beach is mine and that rock over there is still mine. In fact the whole Japan is mine so go somewhere else." Ichigo rolls his eyes. "Damn, the nerve of this guy!"
For the rest of the morning, he feels restless, like someone has poured sand in his eyes and he can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. As the rain splashes around, the ocean seems to go insane, Ichigo can't stop thinking about the stranger on the beach.
The next few days he takes a different path because although he doesn't believe a word that bastard uttered, he doesn't want to see him. He falls into other patterns. He goes grocery shopping in the morning and then he takes walks in the afternoon. He loves the sun hitting his face and a lot of freckles appear on his tanned skin. He cuts his hair short and he studies the adds in the newspaper. Two days later he is hired at the local vet clinic helping taking care of the animals.
However, the stranger seems to be everywhere all of a sudden, but Ichigo has been very good at ignoring things that he doesn't like and the stranger is one of them.
One night he feels so restless that he has to take a walk. There are his thoughts again, like dark shadows covering everything and he needs to get away and fast. He doesn't feel like reaching the beach this time so he just goes along the road, taking in the lights and the sounds of the night. Even in the distance, he can still hear the ocean and it is more soothing than the sounds of the Karakura town. He looks at the dark shadows of the trees in the park and he feels suddenly the need to hide among them.
He is in such a rush to get there that he realizes too late that someone else had his idea as well. A strong hand grabs him by the elbow to steady him and a strong scent of cherry blossoms invades his space with the power of a blast wind. He raises his eyes just in time to meet a pair of grey ones, alight with a mysterious emotion.
"Jesus, are you stalking me now?"
"I wouldn't presume that I am so important if I were you." Ichigo scowls harder at him and Byakuya finally lets him go. He feels the loss of his warmth like a punch in gut and Ichigo blinks a few times, before he finally returns to his walk. Almost immediately the older man falls into step with him.
"Don't you have better things to do than to stalk me at night?"
"I am not stalking you, Ichigo Kurosaki."
"Seriously?" Ichigo spins around to have a look at the other man. "You don't stalk me and yet you know my name."
"You are renting one of my houses."
"What? That's not your house. It belongs to Urahara-san."
"Actually, Urahara-san works for my family as the administrator of the properties I own."
"So I was right then." Ichigo scowls one more time before beginning to walk again, this time a little faster.
"You were right about what?"
"You are a rich arrogant bastard who doesn't want to share anything, not even a small piece of beach."
"I am not arrogant. Just because a person is aware of their wealthy position in society that doesn't make this person arrogant."
"Ok, try prideful then."
A moment of silence.
"Can you slow down?"
"Why? Are you going to tell me that this is your park as well?"
"No, that is not what I meant, although it is my grandfather who donated this garden to the town."
"Wow, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?" Ichigo rolls his eyes.
"I am who I am and I can't change that, Ichigo Kurosaki. Can you tell the same thing about yourself?
Another moment of silence and his eyes are suddenly downcast. His chest is constricted again. Where has the air suddenly disappeared? But then a gentle hand lands smoothly on his cheek making him look up at the man in front of him. There is a thumb caressing tenderly his cheekbone and Ichigo wonders when was the last time he has been touched like that. There is fire burning in the grey eyes, black like onyx in the silence of the night. Hesitantly, Ichigo takes a step further. There is something about this arrogant stranger that makes him want things.
"Can I take a walk with you?" Byakuya mouths and Ichigo wants.
"Yes." He answers simply because he is too lost and he doesn't know what to say and he can't stand not having the presence of this man next to him.
"Then lets take a walk."
He misses the touch but he doesn't say anything else as he lets the other man accompany him. They take a walk in silence, their breaths and steps synchronized to perfection and Ichigo gets with which step almost hysterical by how not bothered he is by the whole thing. So he has been attracting to guys and even brought home a few. With some he even pretended that had a meaningful relationship. But none of them was like this guy.
The night ends with Byakuya taking him back home without so much as a goodbye. And Ichigo would really scowl and possible curse at the man if he wouldn't lose his mind over the fact that Byakuya Kuchiki took him to a walk and touched his face. He takes his hand to his left cheek and then almost instantly drops it like it is burning him. And yes, ladies and gentlemen, apparently, Ichigo is a twelve-year old girl.
The following days, Ichigo avoids the park like it is a cursed area but Byakuya finds him on his beach so they continue their ritual of walking immeasurable distances in silence, a silence that doesn't feel oppressive but rather comforting.
Ichigo lasts until the second week. The sun begins to sink in the ocean again and this time Byakuya is dressed in some shorts and a white t-shirt and his black hair is tied and he looks so gorgeous that Ichigo has to say something quick and fast before he loses it and his thoughts go somewhere where he doesn't want them to go.
"So what is that you do?"
Byakuya looks at him surprised and it takes him a few moments before answering.
"I am a writer."
"What? No business school? No prestigious company to take over?"
"Actually, I did graduated business school, but then, after my wife died, I decided it was time to do something I like for a change. So I became a writer."
"Your wife died?" Ichigo almost chokes on the words.
"Yes, three years ago. Cancer." Byakuya looks at the horizon and the light of the fading sun makes his features look carved in stone. Then those sharp eyes look back at him. "You?"
"Me what?"
"Who died in your life?"
Ichigo stops frozen on the shore like the statue that Byakuya seems. However the blood is still pumping through his veins, pulsating, slowly strangulating him with its speed.
"Mom. When I was nine. And patients. The last one was my final drop."
"You are a doctor?"
"I was." Ichigo sighs. "I don't think I can be one anymore."
Byakuya remains silent, and Ichigo is a little shocked that he just admitted that to a stranger, when he barely admits it to himself. But Byakuya doesn't give the impression of judging him at all. On the contrary, the older man contemplates the vivid colors of the dusk as they both look at the final rays of sun fade away drowned into the ocean.
"Why were you there that day on the beach?" Ichigo whispers. "You were never there before."
"I saw you in the last few days, always sitting in the exact same spot, as if your world was drowning. I didn't want you to drown with it."
"It wasn't that bad."
"No. It was worse."
"You are not a very optimistic person, are you?"
"I could say the same thing about you."
"Well, it seems like death follows me everywhere."
"Maybe then you should surround yourself with life."
"And how do you suggest I do that?"
"Meet me tomorrow in the park at noon and I will show you."
"Don't you have books to write or articles to read?"
"For you I have all the time in the world."
The last few words effectively shut him up and Ichigo feels like drowning in new seas. But there is excitement burning at the edges and it is all about the grey eyes that stare at him right now like they haven't seen him before.
"What is it?" He mutters because he is afraid that more than a whisper will shred the thin thread that keeps him close to Byakuya.
"You are so beautiful." Long fingers gently caress his orange spikes, short again because Ichigo found out he hates long hair. They massage the scalp before they rest on his nape and Ichigo closes his eyes stopping any breath that might ruin this perfect dream and bring him back to reality.
Tender lips press on his forehead so gently it makes Ichigo's heart stutter in his chest. Then another kiss falls on his cheek and then another on his nose and Ichigo wonders why he lets this virtual stranger open him raw like a gapping wound that won't stop bleeding. There are tens of other butterfly kisses, each more heart wrenching than the other.
"One day, you will let me kiss you, Kurosaki Ichigo."
Ichigo opens his eyes shocked by the declaration and everything gets pulverized between them. The same grey eyes burn with desire, such a deep hunger that Ichigo feels like molten lava is burning his bones and he wants, oh, how he wants. But he is not ready; he is so far away from being ready that he almost laughs with deprecation.
The moment hangs between the two of them until Byakuya lets him go and a crooked smile appears on his lips as if his lips are not used to such an action and maybe Ichigo falls a little more. But he is used to falling.
The next day they meet in park and eat ice cream and share flickering smiles and then Ichigo takes him to the vet clinic where they clean the cages and puppies lick their faces and kitties purr and Ichigo finds himself smiling from the bottom of his heart the first time he sees the four kitties climbing Byakuya like he is mountain they need to cross over.
They rinse and repeat. They go to ice-cream shops during the noon's heat when they are alone and they don't need to give explanations to anyone. Byakuya makes him try all sorts of flavors (Ichigo finds himself wondering how they would taste on Byakuya's lips) and then in the afternoon, they go and admire the ocean in a small grove, hidden by trees where they can be together. Their shoulders touch, heat sipping through thin t-shirts, their bodies as close as possible. They go and buy books, and when he isn't looking, Ichigo buys Byakuya's novels and reads them at night when sometimes nightmares are too much, or when he craves the presence of the older man deep within the fibers of his soul.
They speak about everything and nothing, they avoid mentioning death and they find each other more often than not staring into each other's eyes, the undercurrent of the tension between the two of them strumming with unspoken feelings.
One morning Ichigo finds himself ringing his father, making small talk while he is watching Byakuya on the other side of the street analyzing with a ludicrous seriousness the perfection of a melon they are going to eat later on. Isshin sounds happy to hear from his son and before he knows it, Ichigo develops a new pattern, calling his father once a week and telling him about the people around him and how some of them are becoming friends. Renji, the red haired from the music store with his antique taste in music but his wild tattoos tell a different story; Urahara-san who always comes and pretends to be interested in the status of the house but who invites himself in to have an ice tea and talk about non-sense. Rukia, Byakuya's sister, an artist that secretly wants to date Renji and drags Ichigo to the store pretending that she is just out for a walk.
These are the good days.
There are also bad days.
Bad days are when Ichigo's nights are tainted with the terror of nightmares. During those nights, walking along a deserted beach does not bring the peace he desires. He feels like the skin is too tight on him, not enough air around him. He takes in the ocean; he listens to the music of the waves and craves for forgiveness and peace. Everything is at war inside of him. Byakuya is gradually putting missing pieces back into the puzzle that has become his soul, replacing other pieces, gluing them together.
And then during one night everything grows to be overwhelming: the still and heavy air in his bedroom, the walls enclosing on him, his skin tight and raw around the edges. He feels brittle, ready to crack under the smallest pressure. He looks at the shadowed shapes of his useless hands and he knows in that fragile moment that he might do something that he would regret.
He gets out of the bed brusquely and runs outside the house, still dressed in his pajama pants and a ragged t-shirt. He runs along the beach, pushing himself to the limit, air constricting within their cage of meat and bones. His eyes water and still he runs.
Don't stop. Don't stop.
He lets himself get swallowed by the dark of the night and the sounds of the waves. He crashes some time later, under the weight of the effort and breathing harshly. Each gulp of air is sending needles to his lungs. God, he is so exhausted of everything – of this constant self-hate and wallowing in self-pity and generally hating himself with the power of a thousand suns burning into the core of his soul and leaving him completely burnt out.
I must stop. I must stop all this.
His eyelids fall heavily until exhaustion takes over completely.
His eyelids flutter open some time later when the first rays of sun spill over the horizon. They are still weak but even in their flimsy light he can still see Byakuya's worried eyes as his fingertips trace softly Ichigo's cheeks, his jaw, his eyes, and his nose. They stare at each other for what seems like forever and maybe it is forever and this is all they will ever have.
"When my wife died," the older man whispers as his thumb pushes slightly over Ichigo's lips, "I realized that money wouldn't ever be good enough for me again. No matter how much money I had, I couldn't buy her health and even the best doctors in Japan and abroad couldn't bring her life back." His forefinger moves to the forehead tracing the frown lines, new ones that were not there before.
"I also realized that I lost my best friend. Maybe our marriage had been for convenience, but Hisana and I have become something more than mere husband and wife." Byakuya leans closer until their foreheads touch and Ichigo shivers under the weight of the emotions but does not take his eyes away from the man staring back at him. "I learned an important lesson: you can't let death touch anything else in your life because it corrodes it until there is nothing left. It will claw at the core of what you love the most and destroy you completely until you are nothing but a living ghost."
Ichigo takes a deep breath as Byakuya slowly takes him into his arms like a most precious gift until they hug completely, the power of it bringing their bodies close until they don't know where one begins and the other one ends. And Ichigo lets himself be anchored. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, sharing breathing space, and Byakuya's lips gently caressing his ear as he promises:
"One day I will kiss you when you are happy." The fierceness of the words makes Ichigo swallow and shiver. "One day you will let make you happy and I will kiss you when you least expect and you will love every moment of it."
They let the promise drift away from them. Ichigo breathes in Byakuya's scent and he has never been more at peace than in that moment.
An hour, a day, maybe an eternity later they finally disentangle themselves and Ichigo visits Byakuya's house for the first time. He takes a shower and wears the older man's clothes like they were made for him. They share the bed and in the morning, he finds himself enwrapped in Byakuya and he thinks that he has never seen something more beautiful. Raven hair spilling over the pillow, strong features relaxed into sleep, one heavy arm over his waist, the other under Ichigo, their legs a mess. Ichigo closes his eyes and lets himself be prisoner again in this cage of limbs and warmth.
Wounds don't heal easily but he feels he makes a step everyday. And Byakuya is there every step of the way. They do not talk about feelings or love; they don't name the thing that begins between the two of them because it is beyond branding, beyond etiquettes.
They eat together, sometimes they sleep together, they walk, and they talk. They let silence envelop them, fill the gaps in between. They smile and they frown and more often than not, Ichigo argues a lot and at length about the merits of small things just so that he can annoy Byakuya and read the reactions on his face. And there are small precious moments, spent on the beach when none of them speaks but somehow Byakuya's arm finds its way on Ichigo's shoulders and Ichigo's hand finds its way towards his and their fingers tangle loosely. They stay like that until darkness falls around them.
And then one afternoon, as they sit on Byakuya's porch, surrounded by their friends and drinking ice tea that keeps away the hot air around them, Ichigo can't believe that he has reached that moment in life where he is content. He still misses his profession, he still thinks that one day, he might be a doctor again, he still dreams of bad things every once in a while. But then Byakuya's knee touches his, hot skin sticky with want and their forearms brush accidentally, as if they have carved a small world all to themselves in their big group of friends.
And as they go in the kitchen to bring refills and more cooling snacks, Byakuya smiles down at Ichigo and says something or other and Ichigo just smiles back because he has nothing left to say except for his actions. So he presses clumsy lips on Byakuya's lips, almost missing them completely. The older man watches him stunned for a few seconds before he plunges greedily and kisses Ichigo thoroughly leaving no doubts as to how much he had wanted this. Their bodies touch deliciously and Byakuya growls:
"You are so sleeping tonight here."
Ichigo just moans approvingly as he seeks entrance into Byakuya's mouth, and the older man grants him the access most happily. Perhaps loves tastes like Byakuya's lips caressing his jaw, or like the hungry kisses he receives or like those strong arms around his waist never letting go.
There are still going to be bad days, there are still going to be nightmares and doubts, but absolutely everything will be obliterated by those kisses and caresses and the love that shines now without any restraint in Byakuya's eyes and the love that he feels almost stopping his heart. He presses another kiss and forgets the world.