Damn, I hated homework.
Scratch that, I hate homework. With a passion, in fact. A mind-numbing passion that sometimes makes little pieces of pain in the ass paper burning a slow, slow death worth the public humiliation the teacher'd surely give at school the next day. But then, I have standards I have to meet.
To be fair, that night's homework in particular was extra-excruciating. After an hour or five (I lost count) I had only managed to reach question seven. Which wasn't all that bad, I praised myself lightly. That meant there was only twenty-five more to go until I was free from this hellhole.
However, I was beginning to surmise our teacher hated our high school asses. And wonder if any of these markings on the page were actually related to math.
My absolute frustration and death wish for all homework all over the globe wasn't aided by the small, but nonetheless audible, squeaks that could only come from a permanent marker being forced to doodle things that barely qualified as art. I ground my teeth. Oh, yeah. Let Rukia borrow the pen, that'll turn out well... Smart move, Ichigo. You're practically Einstein...
But then, maybe being Einstein would help. Einstein could probably make short work of this math, with his E=Mc2 crap and the like.
"Dammit, Rukia, do you have to draw now?" I yelled. The sound echoed down the hall with thankfully nobody to hear; my sisters and dad were at some festival I was positive hadn't existed until yesterday.
Rukia, who was laying on her belly on the floor whilst doodling away on that damned sketchbook of hers, gave a simple, "Yes. What's it to you?"
"I," I growled back, "Am trying to finish my stupid-ass assignment, that's what." I really did loathe her at times.
This was one of them.
Rukia, the little devil, had completed the same assignment I was toiling over hours ago. She even went so far as to complain it was boring, to which I had retorted that she was over a hundred years older than me. She had then asked if I had just called her old, which then melted into one of our nightly arguments in which I received a nasty kick to the shin that I barely managed to dodge before it went somewhere else.
Wincing at the memory of that bruise, I turned back to my work. It really was impossible in my eyes. Impossible enough to go to drastic measures.
"Rukia..." I started, furious I was sinking this low, "If these kinds of problems are easy for you... Dammit, what's the answer to number seven?" I rushed the last bit out, a faint blush at my cheeks.
Rukia gave a exasperated sigh, but decided to humor my question.
"Fool. Seven is impossible; it can't have an answer no matter which way you solve it."
I scowled even deeper, writing it down.
Now, onto number eigh-
"What's that?" her voice interrupted my thoughts. Praying whatever it was wasn't something obscene, I turned and followed the midget's gaze to the object I kept on a stand by my dresser.
"Guitar." I said absentmindedly, looking back towards my desk.
"I know what a guitar is, idiot. I mean, what's it doing there?" she persisted, breaking my train of thought again. I twirled back to face Rukia, wondering why she cared so damn much.
"I play guitar. I can do a little electric, but mostly I just play acoustic," I found myself drabbling on, gesturing towards the wooden instrument, "Why?"
Rukia's violet eyes flashed over to meet mine in a complete 'you don't know anything, do you?' look.
"What, you don't think we play instruments in Soul Society? Captain Hitsugaya is very fluent with the piano, let me tell you..." she stood and carefully took the guitar in her hands, to sit on the edge of my bed and softly strum at the strings, playing the notes to a song I didn't know.
I sat stunned as she hummed along to the melody. I knew Rukia was a great many things, but never had I known her as a guitarist.
Abruptly, the song changed into something I did recognize. It wasn't happy, it wasn't sad, but it was sort of uplifting in a quiet, melancholy way.
Then, as if tonight couldn't get any more surprising, she (of all things) started to sing softly with the song.
Guitarist, singer, homework master...Next she'd show me how to wrestle a grizzly bear.
"Wish I had had a mango tree...in my backyard...With you standin' next to me...take the picture...'Cause from your lips I heard you say..."
I found I was singing with her, remembering the lyrics and the tune. I'd played this many times before, but now...
"Can I have you?" I sang just as quietly as her. Rukia looked up at me, startled I was joining her.
"Caught all up in what to say," I looked right back, nodding in encouragement for her to continue with me.
"I said you do." she came in quickly, her cheeks flushing pink.
We sang like that for a long while, making up our own lyrics when they ran out. I found myself slowly inching forward, until I'd left my chair to sit next to her on the bed. I watched her, while she more watched the guitar strings, the blush still on her face.
"Can I have you?" I more murmured than sang. I couldn't explain it, the warm feeling building up in my chest. I liked this, being with her. I liked it...a lot. A lot more than a lot.
I was so wrapped up with the warm fuzzy feeling that I forgot to sing the next bit.
Rukia covered for me. "Caught all up in what to say," She looked up at me and I found I was leaning forward, all the while not knowing exactly why.
"I said you do." she murmured so softly, I wondered if I had imagined it.
She then understood what I was subconsciously aiming for and leaned forward herself so our lips met.
There was that moment of utter paralyzed shock before she sank into me, deepening the kiss.
I responded by wrapping my arms around her, pulling her closer.
After what seemed like countless years of simple bliss, we broke apart. Her cheeks had darkened in color, and before I could say something really cheesy, she had cleared her throat and got up to return the guitar to its stand. I simply watched her, stunned at what had just happened. She kissed me. And I didn't mind, not in the slightest.
"Um." I said, managing to sound like an idiot in the process.
Rukia looked over her shoulder as she kneeled before the guitar stand to straighten the instrument and caught my eye. There was a glint in hers, a mixture of mischievous and triumphant satisfaction.
"Told you I played guitar."