Disclaimer: Bleach and all related characters and materials are property of Kubo Tite and Shonen Jump.
Notes: This was written for springkink on Livejournal.
Coda
By: Nanaki BH
He'd left behind a sock.
Uryuu would've probably been a bit more mad about it if he wasn't already feeling too mad at himself. Something about it still made him smile, though. It felt like something comfortable and domestic and made him think that maybe something like that could happen again. It was something silly to get happy about, but he liked seeing that stray sock hanging out at the corner of his bed.
Now he wasn't sure what to do with it. Just give it back like, "Hey, you left this in my room last night, do you want it back?" That would make everyone suspicious. And dragging him aside to give it back seemed almost out of the question. It was tacky enough that Ichigo left it there. Giving it back to him at school seemed even tackier. Even if he washed it first, pulling such an item out of his backpack for him was a mental image that he could barely handle.
Last night had been a fluke for him anyway. There wouldn't be any repeats. No more socks would ever end up sacrificed to his floor again, probably.
No, he thought to himself over breakfast, he'd just cut out the 'probably' entirely. 'Probably' and 'maybe' were words that people use when they suspected that something has a chance of happening. He knew that things would seem easier the sooner he accepted that it would never happen again. There was only one chance and he had tried.
The time had been right, he thought. Any time was as good as ever. There was no such thing as "taking it slow" with someone like Ichigo. He ran into everything head-first so this had been no exception. When watching him day after day for months, a year, finally felt like too long, Uryuu realized that he just had to try.
And he had tried. So it felt pathetic when it was for nothing. Days, months, a year – his heart gone to waste longing after what was probably never for him to want.
"I don't think I can do this."
It sounded definitive enough. It left just enough doubt for him to hope. And he hated himself for that. Not Ichigo. He wasn't going to blame him for his heart's own stupidity, thinking that it was worth exposing his feelings when he knew Ichigo wouldn't be able to return them.
The memory of his words made his toast taste stale. He cleaned off his glasses and convinced himself that there weren't tear stains on them.
He'd keep the sock in his drawer for now.
Maybe he'd come back for it.