Chapter 4. The Day After

All of my chances swim like sinking ships

This time it's it; I'll drown or make her mine.

Kill me now.

This was Ryou's Shirogane immediate thought as he slowly dwindled into consciousness. A small guttural grunt reverberated in his throat in complaint to his aching body.

He wished he could slip back into the folds of his dreamless sleep where everything had been warm and bearable. Being awake was a horrible, miserable experience. His head ached, his tongue felt swollen, and his throat was constricted. He could only imagine what he looked like.

He scratched an itch on his face and felt the scruff that was starting to form.

That was just icing on the cake.

This settles it, Ryou thought idly, I'm a completely unhygienic, deplorable man. Even woman would flee from me right now.

He sighed, thinking longingly of a hot shower with lots of soap and scrubbing involved. Ichigo may have laughed at his impeccable hygiene but it was in his experience that presenting yourself well just put you above the standard person. It made you superior, and differentiated you from others.

And Ryou liked nothing better than to be above the average man.

Running his tongue across his dry, caked lips, he pondered:

Where was he now anyway?

For this lumpy, musty thing he was sleeping on was definitely not one of his own purchases. He was all about comfort and this couch was clearly anything but that. It contorted his tall, lithe body into a twisted pretzel with his legs dangling uncomfortably over the sides.

Reluctantly opening his blue eyes, he took in the familiar setting of antique objects, cluttered things, and feminine magazines haphazardly thrown around the room.

Shit.

Dawning recognition filtered across his face amid horror.

I went to Ichigo's last night. I'm still at Ichigo's. Fuck.

He ran a hand through his bed ragged hair, slowly sitting up while his eyes cautiously darted about the room, to his relief finding it empty of the cheery red head.

I was shitfaced. I made a complete fool of myself, again. This must be a record for me.

Still, there were gaping holes in his memory. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to recall the missing chunks yet just came up horribly blank.

The parts he did remember with a wince and grimace were ambling over to Ichigo's apartment late last night, stumbling about and trashing her place, and throwing up while Ichigo whispered soothing nothings of comfort in his ear.

Self-loathing washed through his body, he was an idiot. He hated the idea of being vulnerable and dependent like a child; yet, last night, he was both.

The idea of being dependent and intimate upon someone else was something he was not really fond of. Since his parents had died at a young age, he was used to taking care of himself with minimum love and helplessness involved.

There were genuinely few people he cared for. Though his profession offered him numerous coworkers and he often accompanied them to dinner, bars, or parties they were still more of acquaintances then friends. Honestly, it was more of a way to ease his boredom than anything else. It never really bothered him though, he wasn't one of those people who minded being in isolation.

Ryou knew he did not really fit with the majority of people. He was always at the edges of a crowd or dismissively aloof. He couldn't personally relate to any of these people and he supposed to most of them he came off as a jackass. Maybe he was one. He didn't really know.

However, there were few people who had managed to prove the exception and wedge a place within his heart.

Keiichiro being namely one, was more like his brother then any blood relative he ever had. He had been Ryou's caretaker when he was little, his confident when he was older, and his long life friend forever; Ryou could not imagine his life without his easy going, patient and tolerant friend.

Zakuro was also surprisingly one of the few people he could understand and who understood him. They connected with each other, latched onto their surprisingly similarities of not fitting in, seclusion problems, and overall need to find independence. She had lived most of her life sustaining herself, her confidence being top notch. Her drive to speak her own mind was something he valued himself.

Lastly of course, there was Ichigo. She who was completely opposite from him in so many ways. His affection for her did not seem plausible. His love for her did not compute.

He was sarcastic, dry, witty; she was cheerful, bubbly, and simple tongued.

He was complicated, a deep thinker, a cautious person; she was predictable, naïve, and sweet natured.

He was realistic; she was optimistic.

He was closed off; and she was open with her arms spread wide .

A small creaking of the floorboards startled him from his thoughts.

Crap. He thought inwardly. He did not know how to deal with this, with her. He sat up, realizing for the first time the baby blue blanket Ichigo had adorned him with. A small smile tugged on his lips along with mingled exasperation at her nurturance.

"Hey Ryou" her voice chirruped " How you doing?"

He cocked his head, looking at her defensive yet curious posture. Ichigo was leaning against the doorway, keeping her distance, and scrutinizing him. She was acting different, he knew her well enough to realize. She was wary and excited and conflicted and happy. She was a bunch of emotions that he couldn't identify and could only surmise it had to do with their kiss two nights previous and his drunken stupor, last night.

For once he wished he had dosed himself up with some sort of Kirma animal so he could have telepathic powers. Reading her mind would sure be helpful right now….

"Um, hey" He cleared his throat, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. The silence that followed was incredibly awkward and he resolved to fix it.

"Listen, I….I wanted to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I haven't been myself" He said solemnly.

"I was drunk and if I did anything to upset you, I most likely didn't mean it"

He could swear he was imagining it but it almost seemed like she was disappointed. Her chin dropped a little and her eyes lost that luster of excitement. Ryou continued to ramble, feeling foolish, but persistent in his apology.

"I'm sorry that you had to put up with me last night when I was completely wasted. I can't remember much but I hope I didn't do or say anything inappropriate….did i?" He questioned.

She hesitated, a second to long for a simple no, and Ryou's blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"…..No, No nothing happened. You were, we were, fine"

"Remind me, what did happen then?"

"Nothing really. Drinking just made you more of an ass then usual and I punched you" she said with a smirk.

"I distinctly remember that" He said dryly, touching the small bruise.

Still, she was lying. He could sense it. He could see it. She wouldn't meet his eye and she was jittery, her feet shuffling from side to side. It was frustrating for him not to know the reason why, to not remember the cause even though he had probably partaken in it.

"Anyway, Ichigo continued, I'm making some tea….would you like some? Or you just gonna head home now?"

A few minutes ago he would have all for a quick goodbye and his own home. However now, with this mystery lingering over his head, he wasn't going anywhere. Not till he figured out what happened last night anyway.

"Yeah, I'd like some tea if you wouldn't mind me crashing upon your hospitality once more"

"Not at all" she smiled, still not meeting his eyes, a blush randomly heightening her cheeks.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He remarked with a yawn, stretching his limbs as he stood and approached her.

"Nothing…I'm…uh…", he had never seen her so flustered, I'm going to grab you a clean shirt"

Right. He wasn't wearing one. No wonder it was a tad chilly. He smirked as he saw her gaze stray downwards. Working out always had its perks.

"I don't mind" he said with a wicked grin.

"I do" She muttered, "Go to the kitchen. I'll get you one" She tossed over her shoulder.

!

Ryou draped himself across one of the kitchen chairs, noting to his surprise that Ichigo's kitchen was for once in mint condition. There wasn't a plate, dish, or speck of dust in sight.

"Your kitchen is really clean" He remarked in surprise as she waltzed into the room, "almost as clean as mine, I might add"

"Yeah well, I was having difficulty sleeping last night so I put my momentary insomnia to good use" She gestured around the room "You should have seen this place yesterday"

He didn't comment on her strange remark of not sleeping since Ichigo usually excelled in that department and only wordlessly accepted the t-shirt she offered him.

It was clearly a man's shirt. The size and style alone emphasized this as well as slight smell of cologne made it very distinctive. It had been folded carefully, washed and laundered; Ichigo had clearly taken good care of this shirt even though it looked old and worn.

He felt strange holding it and he held back the irrational surge of jealousy that billowed inside of him.

"Whose shirt is this?" He inquired, pretending not to really care.

"Masaya's"

She looked at him then, defensively "I know what you're thinking….but it's not like that. I don't love him anymore, I'm not moping over him." She paused as she thought "it's been years since we dated. But I can't throw his shirt away. It's a memento of all the great memories we shared, of the love we shared at one point in time"

She smiled blissfully, lost in her romantic love of the past. The feelings she had felt then, the jitters and excitement. It was sad that it had all dwindled down to nothing.

"You don't have to explain to me. I was just curious. The Adidas brand is clearly not your style"

"Right"

"Mhm"

A heavy silence ensued once more, broken only by the sound of his gurgling stomach. Ichigo's face brightened

"You hungry?"

"Actually, yeah"

"Great", Ichigo turned to rummage in her kitchen cabinets, "I baked some brownies yesterday and I have A TON left over. It'd be lovely if you'd polish them off for me. I don't want to throw them away" She finished brightly.

"What am I, a garbage disposal?" He remarked acidly.

His voice laced with suspicion "How come you didn't eat them anyway? You love brownies more than life itself"

"Erm, I did eat them. There were just…..too many for me to finish them all!" She dropped a plateful of brownies in front of his face. "Eat"

"Liar" He scoffed as he looked at the supposed brownies, more like burnt pieces of charcoal "no wonder you didn't eat them. They look like coal….not food"

She sighed, not bothering to fight over this, "Well it was worth a shot" She shrugged. "You loved them last night"

He gagged at the thought of stuffing those rock-like objects in his body.

"And you let me eat those things?" He exclaimed, horrified.

"Hell yeah I did" she giggled. "At least when you're drunk you like my cooking"

"That's the only way someone will like your cooking" he muttered darkly.

The whistle of the tea kettle broke their light hearted bickering and Ichigo turned towards it with a smile. Ryou's tense shoulders eased slightly. It was nice to regain some sort of normalcy between them. Things had been strained lately, but this was conversation was easy and light. It was the way things used to be: two friends just having breakfast and sharing a laugh.

"Ah, cabinets….why do you tease me so?" Ichigo's mutterings made him glance up. She was standing to her fullest height of five foot, three inches, arms stretched as high as they would go, and making little leaps as she tried to reach the mugs that were quite out of her reach.

He smirked in amusement. "Baka, why the hell would you put your cups on the highest of shelves that you obviously can't reach?"

"Wishful thinking?" She huffed with aggravation "I don't freaking know why, but want to get over here and help me? Mr. Six foot"

"Actually I'm six foot' two"

"Yeah, whatever. Practically the same thing anyway" She waved her hand dismissively.

His eyes flitted up and down the length of her body automatically, a subconscious reaction. He couldn't help admiring her body while being disgusted at himself at the same time. Still, it was hard to concentrate when she was clad in nothing but a pair of shorts and tang top, leaving little for the imagination and a good eyeful of legs. Bent over the counter like that…she was probably every man's fantasy.

"Ryou will you get off your ass and help me" She demanded hotly, scowling upwards at those unreachable cups.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming" Ryou pulled himself out of his lounging position to his full height, body tense with arousal. He walked over, pressing his chest against the small of her back as he reached around her to grab the cups.

She had stilled against him. In a way, he supposed he had trapped her. His arms were on either side of her head, lodged against the cabinets. She was being pushed forward against the counter and he was pressed against her. He could feel her erratic breathing and his own had sped up as well, their proximity affecting him.

She was intoxicating. His hand hesitatingly brushed against the pink strands of hair surprised at their silky softness.

"Ryou…." Her voice was squeaky and quavering, and he quickly released her hair and his fascination with it.

"Sorry", he muttered, "Erm…" Ryou was at a loss for words, at a loss at how to explain how he felt about her, about how much she truly meant to him. It was ironic and strange that she had made him, he who was a proficient speaker, into a boy who had become wordless countless times throughout the day.

"Ryou...I" she was struggling, it was clear to tell. Something was clearly preoccupying her mind, and she was flustered. He was expecting an angry rebuttal, 'a get out of my house', 'sexual harassment' or a 'you big jerk'. However, what he wasn't expecting was what she blurted out:

"We kissed last night. And I think I sort of enjoyed it.."

Hey readers!

So, I know I said this was just going to be a four part story but I'm going to have to add one more chapter because I don't want to squeeze everything into this one. It would be too cramped.

Anyway, if you've been reading this story, and are still reading it: thank you! And thanks for the people who reviewed. It means a lot to me and it makes my day

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ERm, there might be a tad sum of grammar mistakes but once I finish the story completely; I'm going to edit all the chapters for additional details and grammar mistakes. I've realized the ages are inconsistent, I completely forgot when I was writing it but to clear it all up, in my mind, Ryou is 23 and Ichigo is 21.

So please review! Pleaseeee. It's very discouraging to write a story when you never get feedback or critiques. The chapters take ages to write and a review takes a second, so drop one ;)

Okay, I'm done hinting for reviews.

Quick question though: whose perspective do you prefer Ichigo's or Ryou's? and what perspective would you like the last chapter in. I'm leaning towards Ichigo though.

Anyway that's it for now. Last chapter will hopefully be up soon! Review!

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Sineadxrose