Petals

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

The petals fell into the fast moving current of the creek, lingering on the surface for a moment before disappearing into a see of white, frothy foam. A raven-haired girl stood on the muddy banks beside the water, plucking petal by petal from the colorful flowers that grew further up the slope.

They fell in a swirl of pink and purple and yellow, and then, when all the petals were gone, the naked stem would follow, bringing forth ripples as they impacted upon the water's surface.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

She didn't really believe that picking petals from flowers could really determine if a person loved someone. The result was just as often 'he loves

me', as it was 'he loves me not'. The results changed constantly; there was never a permanent decision. Besides, most flowers were limited to four petals, and you knew as soon as you began what the outcome would be. If you started with 'he loves me,' you'd end up with 'he loves me not', and vice versa.

She didn't believe that flowers had the power to change the way one's heart was directed. But still, she picked the petals like her life depended on it. It had become a habit; like biting your nails or fiddling with your hands.

With a sigh, she tossed the last stem into the water, and stared down at her reflection in its murky surface. A young girl stared back at her with bright, violet eyes. The reflection seemed to question her, and began demanding answers.

What is wrong with you, Rukia? Do you have any idea what you're doing?

She frowned, unable to think of anything to say to the side of her being that was her common sense. She knew that her conscious was right; what she was doing was wrong. A sin. A crime.

You can't fall for him, baka! You know that!

She did know that. Falling for him would be a treachery, a bad idea. A mistake. He had once been an ordinary high school student, save for his

ability to see ghosts. But then again, that fault rested in the hands of fate. It wasn't his fault that he could see spirits, and it wasn't hers. He had

once lived a (for the most part) normal life. He had friends, and a good 'appearance' as he said, and people loved him.

And if it weren't for her, he would still be living that life.

She sighed, thinking of how much danger she had put him in, in the few months that they had known each other and worked together. Of course, she stayed for the first two months, solely because she couldn't return to Soul Society without her powers. But she also believed that something else was holding her back and keeping her from leaving. Something that she would never admit, not even to herself. The possibility that she was falling in love with the orange-headed human boy was, well, terrifying.

Why? Because, A: It was WRONG, and B: She knew that he would never love her back.

Surely you're not that stupid, Rukia. Surely you can do better than a human!

Her hands found her way up to the sides of her head, and she clenched her fists around clumps of her hair. Desperately, she tried to block out the voices, but how can you silence something that's inside of your own head. Sure, she probably could do better than Ichigo, but the problem was; she didn't want any better than him.

She loved him. And she knew it. The voices in her head were just lagging, and they were far behind. The words that they were speaking probably should have been spoken back when she first gave him what she thought was a little of her powers. She laughed slightly, scolding herself for her stupidity.

As she lifted her head towards the sky, she closed her eyes, and the cool spring breeze tore at her ebony locks. Realization came to her in the form of a flashback.

She had leaned against a wooden pole, breathing heavily. Sweat trickled down her face, and she had to fight back the cries of pain. The orange-headed boy who she would one day become so familiar with stood before her, eyes wide. "Are you ok, shinigami?" he had asked, and she had insulted him, calling him an idiot and such. And then she was telling him that there was a way to save his family from the Hollow that was attacking him: He would have to run her zanpakto through her heart, and she would transport some of her powers to him.

Neither one of them was positive that the idea would work.

"Thank you, shinigami."

It was then, at that moment, as he held the blade of her zanpakto in his hands, that it happened. Looking into his eyes that moment changed her world forever. It was then that she had fallen in love with him. And only now, almost two years later, was she finally realizing it.

Two different lives. Two different paths. Brought together by fate. Brought together by destiny.

She bowed her head, hot tears pricking at her eyes.

Rukia Kuchiki had never liked showing her emotions, and she rarely did. But now, everything was piling up at once. Hollows had been appearing like crazy lately, and Kon had gotten more annoying by the day. And her constant thoughts of her love for Ichigo weren't helping. All the stress had bubbled up inside of her, filling her soul to the brim. And now it was overflowing, coming out in the form of tears.

It seemed stupid to her that she was crying over her feelings for him. Feelings that would never be returned. She felt like she was the only one who cried over such emotions, and it killed her. She deemed herself weak and foolish.

"Oi."

Her eyes went wide, and she was thankful that her back was turned to him, so that he couldn't see the tears.

"Hey…" she said.

"What's up with you?"

She continued staring silently at the ground, as if there was something interesting among the muddy grass. "What do you mean?" she asked, praying that her words were stronger than she felt. Though she wasn't facing him, she could see him smirking in her mind, looking down upon her, laughing at her.

"Well, you jumped."

She scoffed, squinting her eyes shut as she tried to make the last of the tears fall, so that they would just be gone. "I don't know what you're talking about. You startled me, is all."

"So tell me," he demanded. "Have I been startling you all week? Every time I say something to you, you freak out."

"No I don't!"

She wanted him to leave; she knew she probably wouldn't stop crying for a long while. But at the same time, his presence brought a smile to her heart, even though she knew he wasn't actually concerned for her. She was a friend, that was it. He was just checking in on her. That's what friends did. Actually, he wasn't even doing that. He had probably just been passing by and spotted her on his way to… well, wherever he was going.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

She shook her head, lips set in a tight line.

"Oh, come on!" he pressed. "There's gotta be something bothering you! You've been coming here every day for the last week! You come home late every day, and you avoid people as often as you can! I mean, Inoue even came to me today to say that she was worried about you!"

She winced inside, though she wouldn't let it show. Of course! Inoue could come to him and talk freely. They had known each other longer, and in Rukia's eyes, they were obviously the closer. "It's nothing," she said.

He sighed, aggravated. She was shocked to hear his footsteps coming closer. Swiftly, she reached up and brushed the tears from her eyes, standing her ground. She froze inside as his hands came to rest on her shoulders, and he turned her around to face him. She stared silently at his shirt. Sighing again, he placed his hand under her chin, and raised her head so that she was looking into her eyes.

"You've been crying."

"No I haven't!" she denied, but she knew the lie was pointless. She could tell that her eyes were red, and her face was still sticky from the tears. Oh, curse him for coming here! If only he knew how much she wanted to run into his arms and tell him everything. She longed to hear him say that he loved her, to know that he cared about her.

It was wishful thinking. She knew that.

"Why are you lying?"

Four words. Four simple words that tore her apart.

She collapsed. The tears started pouring from her eyes and she clenched her arms tightly, her fingernails digging into her own flesh. She tried so hard to fight them back, but the more she struggled, the faster they came.

Her vision was blurred by tears; the ground swam before her eyes.

She felt like a weak, idiotic child as everything in the world melted away. The only things there were her tears. Her tears and her sobs. Finally, she managed to choke a few words out. "I'm not lying!" she said. "There's… n-nothing wrong with me! R-really, I'm fine."

He had trouble interpreting what she said. The words came out in a shaky, strangled way, and a moment passed before the words finally ran together, registering through his mind.

"Rukia…"

She trembled at his next motion. He squeezed her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, so that her face was buried in his shirt. Her eyes went wide, and she felt his strong arms embracing her. "Ichigo…"

"Shhh…"

She closed her eyes, her hands clenching his shirt tightly. She held on for dear life, afraid that, should she let go, the moment would slip away forever. Silently, she tried to paint the image in her mind, drawing in every detail. But it was nowhere near the original work of art. Nothing would compare to this moment. She pressed her forehead against his shirt, damp with the tears she shed.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly said. His arms stayed where they were, circled around her. He remained silent, gently rocking her back and forth. One hand found its way up to her head, and he rested his palm against her scalp, holding her tightly.

"Sorry?" he finally spoke. "What for?"

She had no reply. She really didn't know why she had spoken it. When he continued looking down at her expectantly, she just shrugged. "Your shirt," she said. It was the only thing that she could think of.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it," he told her. "Just stop crying, alright?"

She nodded, smiling sadly as the side of her head pressed against his chest. He was a friend, comforting a friend in her time of need. He wanted her to stop crying, so he could turn and leave.

Cursing herself, she squinted her eyes shut. No, he wasn't like that. In the two years they had known each other, he had never given off the appearance of a person who behaved like that. He might really be concerned, and that was understandable. They had been… acquaintances for a long, long time, and it was only natural that they had some care for the other.

She was only thinking like that at that particular moment because she was feeling sorry for herself. She knew that Ichigo didn't have feelings for Inoue, and he wasn't really frustrated with her. She knew.

"Thank you," she said.

He grinned, which was a rare sight. It wasn't a fake grin, forced to make her feel better. It was real, genuine. Real as in it came to his face of his own free will.

"Don't mention it," he said. "But, I still want to know. What's up with you?"

If I told you, what would you say?

She shook her head. "It's nothing," she repeated. "Nothing."

His eye twitched: he had thought that the past few moments would have gotten them over the 'nothing' bridge. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Lying!"

She scoffed. "Why is it so important that you find out what's upsetting me?" she demanded, and for a moment, he remained silent, lost as to what to say next. When finally he spoke, he chose his words carefully.

"Because I care," he stated. "I want to know because I care about you. When I see you so… lost, and then watch you burst into tears right in front of me, I'm gonna want to know what's going on."

She closed her eyes again, though this time, she was more relaxed. " Don't be worried," she replied. "It's stupid, anyways."

She looked up to meet his eyes, and found his gaze meeting hers. Violet orbs clashed with chocolate ones, in a silent swirl of understanding. A corner of his mouth slowly climbed upwards.

"I doubt it," he said. "Nothing that's that stupid would bother you so much." He put emphasis on the 'you', she noticed.

"Hey, Ichigo," she suddenly said, and he stared down at her, indicating for her to go on. "This is just a rhetorical question, but… if I told you I loved you," –a short pause, in which she drew in a deep breath- "What would you do?"

She had meant to say 'say,' not 'do.' But she didn't think it mattered that much. Surely he'd get the idea. And he'd probably turn around and walk away anyway. Ugh, there she went again, feeling sorry for herself.

"Well, let's see…" he started. "If you said you loved me, I would do… this."

Her eyes went wide as he closed the gap between the two of them. Almost subconsciously, she stood on her tippy-toes for a boost, and his lips brushed against hers. Her eyes went wide, and butterflies soared through her stomach as her heart rose to her throat.

Finally, she smiled and closed her eyes, giving into temptation, and falling into the hands of treason.

I liked the ending, which is like, a major shocker. Normally, I hate the endings I write. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Reviews appreciated.