Hiya IchiHime-ers! *waves* I decided to start a drabble collection for this pair simply becasue I felt inspired to do so. I don't update very often so don't attack me for it, this is just so I have a place to put any drabbles I come up with. XD Also, I don't write smut. The highest the rating on these will ever likely go to is T. Just know that now so you won't be disapointed.
The title and summary is partially taken from a song by Sigur Ros called Glosoli (which means Glowing Sun). It's beautiful and one of my favourite songs. You all should look it up (especially the video. It's magical). I thought it'd be cool to use for IchiHime seeing as how they've both been compared to suns (sure Ichigo's been compared to the moon but so has Rukia and well as neat as sun/moon comparisons are, Ichigo and Orihime always struck me as more similar than different and I really like that about them. Plus It's a nice change from the norm, I think.)
I'll only do this pointless disclaimer once so read it now; I do not own Bleach or it's characters. IchiHime doesn't belong to me. It'd be lovely if it did but then it probably wouldn't be as lovely as it is now. ^^
Peace people~
She's walking in a dream. Every step she takes, he swears is choreographed. It's funny how she claims to be so clumsy-which she is without a doubt- but it looks to him almost as if she's dancing. Every stumble she makes, she somehow transforms it until it becomes a part of her dance.
She throws her arms into the air and spins in a circle, her long caramel tresses flowing out away from her. Her eyes are closed as she throws her head up to the sky and laughs. The sound fills him. Her smile takes him and lifts him up.
Its funny- he never considered himself as one for dancing. But then, he never considered it with her.
The shadows of the leaves, breaking up the stream of sunlight shining down on her, decorate her face and the ground- the world, her dance floor, her stage. His world. She stops spinning for a moment to smile at him and he smiles back as best as he can. It's a crooked smile, heavy, awkward, and even a bit warped from lack of use, but she loves it, she says. He'll never understand why.
She goes back to her dance- a little skip here, a stumble there, a spin, a twist, another spin. He's lost in it. Her skirt swirls around her ankles hypnotically as she moves.
She flushes as she trips this time, noticing he hasn't stopped staring at her. He looks away with a blank expression in attempt to pretend he hasn't been watching. His heart drops little thinking she might stop. He sees her smile in relief out of corner of his eye and she goes back to dancing with her eyes shut. He can't help but grin at this.
He imagines an orchestra at some times, thousands of layered sounds and instruments playing for her in the background, while at other times there's only one sound, a single melody. She doesn't need the sounds though; she could dance to silence. He remains seated on the park bench. He thinks, maybe…he might just love her, but he stays still, merely watching her.
One day, he thinks to himself, he'll find the courage to get up and dance with her.