Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters are the legal property of Kubo Tite.
Pairings: Grimmjow/Ichigo (Ichigo/Orihime)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Four years of war, five years of torture, and three years of searching, only to find you in the arms of someone else. Ichigo deals in his own way :(. AU.
Words: 425
A/N at the end.
Sequel to: Don't Bring Me Back
Please listen to My Skin by Natalie Merchant when reading this fic! goto LJ ver. for DL link.
LJ Ver: lf-maggie(dot)livejournal(dot)com/9145(dot)html
***
I won't look, he tells himself as Orihime is parting the curtains to welcome the morning sun, gentle and beautiful in its reflection against the bleached walls of their bedroom. He throws back the covers, shivering slightly at the sudden brush of cool air to his naked torso, purposefully ignoring the open balcony and the soft rustle of tree leaves as he heads for the bathroom.
I won't think, he breathes to himself, turning on the shower and stepping in: relaxing his knotted muscles and cleansing the phantom traces from his chest, neck, and behind his ears; drowning in the constant sound of water hitting his skin, the tiles, and the shower door. He pauses as a prickle of pain brings his attention to the purplish bruise on his wrist.
I won't remember.
-
When he makes it down to breakfast, Haruki is already seated and waiting for him, eyes bright as he greets Ichigo with an expectant smile, "Daddy!"
He ruffles the orange locks and affectionately brushes a finger across the child's nose, his previously sullen mood easing somewhat as he inhales the sweet aroma of blueberry pancakes and chocolate syrup. My favourite, he thinks absentmindedly, taking a seat at the table and carefully avoiding the window and its teal-colored drapes. "Where's your mother?" he asks, just as Orihime enters the kitchen with a basketful of plums.
"Right here!"
Happily emptying the heap of golden fruit into the sink and clasping her hands in excitement, she turns to him and announces with twinkling eyes, "I'm thinking of making plum pie, plum jam, and maybe even a little plum bread. What do you think?"
As usual, her presence is kind and gentle like the caress of a spring breeze... This is the woman I chose to marry, he all but whispers to himself, rising from his seat in a daze and moving to meet her where she stood; reaching a hand to the back of her head and softly threading his fingers through her short, auburn hair, untangling the stray leaves and pulling her into a hushed kiss.
"Ichi..." she fumbles, surprised.
Shutting his eyes and thinking of white dresses, floral archways and baby showers, he doesn't let go until she draws back from him, frowning, and tenderly touches a hand to his chest, stroking her fingers against his cheek, "Why do you look so sad?"
And he couldn't answer, searching her eyes but not knowing what he was looking for as he swallows, because his throat was so, very dry.
"I had a dream."
***
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A/N: I'm so sorry. I know I promised implied that there would be HAPPY grimmichi if i wrote a part two (which this really can't be considered as because it's so damned short), but i tried and it just didn't work :(. i'm actually quite upset with myself T_T.
EDIT: Updated 05/17/09 - tense problems and some wording issues fixed.
