Ichigo sighed and pulled the damp towel from his eyes. The door of the all-too-silent closet in the corner called to him; promised that the next time he opened it in the middle of the night, she'd be back. His life remained subdued after the petite shinigami left, and Ichigo couldn't help feeling like one of Yuzu's unfinished puzzles. Part of him wasn't where it belonged, and he knew it. Everyone around him probably knew it as well, but he didn't give half a damn. Half. Heh. It seemed that sooner or later, everything he thought about came back to fractions. Which decidedly did not help with finishing the essay on his desk.
He forced himself to take another look, this effort just as fruitless as the last. The textbooks slid onto the floor, along with piles of blank paper and an unread, probably pornographic manga from Keigo. Ichigo scratched his neck and sighed again. He'd slipped into somewhat of a melancholy routine for his evenings that revolved around sleep and the slamming of a closet door.
Each time it slid shut, the voice in the back of Ichigo's head began prodding him again. Just one more time, it pleaded, one more time and you'll never have to do it again. The voice lied, of course. No matter how much he wore the tracks down, the closet remained empty. The pair of yellow plaid pajamas Ichigo kept under his mattress remained cold. He ran his fingers over a wrinkled sheet of notebook paper; the only object he considered more important than his own life. The smiling rabbit and frowning bear stared up at him, their colors fading and smeared; the characters around them were almost illegible from too much handling. Ichigo smiled as he recalled the explanation that accompanied them, his first baby steps into the world of a substitute shinigami.
Not being able to walk through downtown without having every image of Chappy send a spike through him wasn't easy. Watching Karin and Yuzu play with a Chappy doll wasn't easy, either. He couldn't even hear the word "rabbit" without sending a hopeful glance over his shoulder, only to have another piece of his puzzle thrown to the floor.
Her smile killed him the most.
She looked so damn cute when she smiled. Her violet eyes lit up, and her cheeks got those damn little dimples in them. Ichigo hated it when she smiled, since that one expression often managed to convince him into spending his last handful of yen on more Chappy paraphernalia.
He wished he could see her smile again.
Wished he could watch her eyes light up.
Wished he could waste more money buying her useless shit that would only gather dust under her bed.
Wished he'd been honest with her back in Soul Society.
Wished he'd kept his arm around her longer on the Souryouku.
Wished he were stronger, so he wouldn't have needed Renji to help.
Wished he hadn't kept his mouth shut like a dumbass.
She wanted to stay, Ichigo told himself. Anything you could've said wouldn't have changed a damn thing.
It would've taken some of the weight from his heart, though.
At the moment, that was all Kurosaki Ichigo needed.