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[Chapter Four]
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As anti-climactic as it sounds, Shuuhei did have Gin's camcorder. When the grey-haired boy was composed enough to leave the silent room (with his signature grin and all), he found the engineering student sitting at a table studying, like Renji had assumed. Shuuhei apologized profusely for taking his property. He felt extremely guilty and ashamed for being so careless. He swore it would never happen again.
"Thanks," Gin remembers telling the guy, once his blue bag was slung over his shoulder. He had been pleased to know it hadn't been cracked, crushed or scratched. It was returned safe and sound, not a single mark. And all his scenes were saved.
Gin did not stay in the library long. After receiving his camcorder, he made a beeline for his dorm room. The sooner he got there, the better. The halls were beginning to fill with people, but he was glad he hadn't passed by any familiar faces. He really did not want to talk to anybody. All he wanted to do was sit at his desk and work of his film project.
Gin lets out a breath. Man, the school should really fix this elevator. Why the heck is it still broken? He stalks down the wooden floor, his steps heavy and eager. He digs his hand into his pocket, struggling to find his key. Dang, his jeans are way too tight. Is he getting fat? He had bought these pants only a year ago. They couldn't have shrunk this fast. He stops in front of his door, yanks his key out of his pocket, shoves it into the lock and pushes the door open.
Izuru isn't there. Gin exhales, relieved.
He kicks the door closed, locks it and slams his butt down at his desk.
He turns on his laptop, pulling out his camcorder and connection cord. He doesn't care how long it will take to upload the rest of the files, he is going to wait, no matter what, without a single complaint, not one. His screen brightens to life. He double clicks the iMovie icon, drumming his fingers over the table as it loads. He sets the connection, begins importing his files onto his laptop and leans back in his chair. He sighs, staring up at the ceiling.
Finally.
What a chaotic weekend.
He doesn't think he's ever felt so stressed in his entire life. Wow. This camcorder basically held the outcome of his future, at least, the future of his film class, which he does not want to fail. No way. He is going to ace that class. And he is going to do it with this short film. He spent so much time and effort filming, capturing the right lighting, setting, angle and mood. Gosh, he hasn't worked on anything with this much passion before. He better get a good grade.
He glances to his laptop. Two hours to go and the last half of his scenes will have uploaded. He should do something. Much can be done in two hours and he doesn't want to sit around doing nothing. He stands from his seat, his knees popping as he stretches his legs. He should consider doing yoga. His muscles and joints are as stiff as Ulquiorra's personality.
Gin looks around the room, wondering if he should do some cleaning. His bed is made. The blankets are neat, and clean, each corner folded at a point, and he knows the clothes in his dresser are organized. He had swept the floor a couple days ago and the window screen is as clear as day. He turns to Izuru's bed. His sheets are a bit messy, but still tidy nonetheless. The guy's dresser has a sock peeking out of the top drawer but he doesn't want to mess this that.
He looks to the blonde-kid's desk. It is packed with textbooks. There are two giant stacks of them squished into the corner while five lay open, littered with graph paper marked up with notes, equations and rules.
Gin walks up to Izuru's desk, curious to see if any treasures lay inside. He gazes around the massive pile of papers before deciding to search through the top drawer. He is surprised to find a hand mirror sitting on top a Harry Potter book, the third volume, he notes. Gin is about to turn away when he catches his reflection. He freezes for a moment before snagging the mirror and bringing it close to his face.
His stomach churns.
Gosh. He looks like a mess. Did Shuuhei notice? He hadn't mentioned anything, probably too worked up over taking his camcorder. But dang, he looks awful.
Gin runs a hand though his hair.
His lips are chapped, and only now does he feel the stinging pain. Has he been licking them recently? He only does it when he's anxious or nervous. He must have, but how could he not have noticed? His bottom lip looks like the Sahara desert for goodness sake. Gin rubs his eyes. They look tired, worried and strained. The bags under them are heavy (he cringes) and his brows are furrowed the slightest. He looks troubled, and it doesn't take a genius to figure that out. Aizen had commented on his bothered appearance, but he only assumed his friend could tell because of his perceptive nature. Well, now he knows. It is obvious, at least, to those who know him well enough.
Why hadn't he realized he looked this bad?
Gin gazes at his grin. He swallows. It looks forced, incredibly so. He thought he was doing a pretty good job keeping it natural, but – he lets out a breath – now that he's looking at it… His feet grow numb as the cold floor sucks away its heat. What is he going to do? His grin has been his default for, well, for his whole life. It is the mask he lives in, breathes in, hides in. Why can't he make it look convincing? He's always slipped it on like a hand to a glove. It fit perfectly, kept him safe and at a distance from everything else. But now – he feels his legs shake – now it just looks pained, anguished.
He takes three steps back and falls on his chair. What is happening to him? What is he supposed to do? He can't go around showing his face like this.
He places the mirror on his desk. He can't look at himself anymore. He doesn't want to feel anymore self-conscious than he already does. He stares at the floor, tracing the wood with his eyes. His hands are cold.
Do you love Rangiku Matsumoto?
Gin clenches his jaw when his heart stutters in his chest. The feeling is agonizing. He slumps forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, head hanging down. His grin falls, curving into a frown. He shouldn't think about that. Their conversation is over – was over, a long time ago. Aizen was only trying to make him say something he didn't want to say.
Gin squeezes his eyes shut, at least, more shut than they already are. He tells himself to focus on his breathing. He shouldn't be thinking of anything else. In and out. Just inhale and exhale. It isn't that hard.
He should forget about Rangiku. Forget about her hair, her eyes, her smell, touch, laugh, smile and charm. Yup, and just breath in and out. Forget about the way she sings when she's working or the way her hand glides down his arm and squeezes him close when she's cold. Forget the times she's run her fingers through his hair, comforting him when he feels sad. Forget about the time she almost kissed his cheek in high school because Orihime had dared her to, and forget the way she looked at him instead, in a way he had not seen before. He should forget the way that look made him feel. The way his blood shot down to his crotch, how he had panicked, but no one knew. How he forgot how to speak but somehow excused himself and hid in the bathroom, waiting until he cooled down.
He lets out a breath.
All of these memories are driving him insane. He should forget about them all. He can't handle them, the way they make him feel is just too much. He shouldn't be feeling this way in the first place. He shouldn't. He can't. Rangiku is just his friend. Best friend. And best friends are not allowed to get nervous or flustered. He whimpers, dumping his face in his hands.
This is too much. Why is he remembering all of this? He should be forgetting. His breathing is all wonky now. He can't keep it even.
He swallows.
He has to avoid her. It's the only thing he can think of. There is no way he is letting her see him this way. She would know. Right away, she would know. Just one glance and she would figure him out. Everything would be revealed. With one glance, whatever remains of his mask are left on his face will shatter. His feelings are crossing the line, a line they shouldn't be crossing. He can't let her know. He doesn't want her to realize. No way. It would ruin everything. Their friendship would be destroyed. It would be awkward, unpleasant. She wouldn't feel comfortable around him anymore, she wouldn't hug him, smile, laugh or tease him. She would worry about leading him on. She would take a step back. They wouldn't be friends anymore, let alone best friends.
He groans against his hands. Why can't he hide anything from her? If he could, this wouldn't be such a big deal. Man, why does he have to feel this way? He wishes he didn't. All these emotions are just too complicated. He's making everything weird.
He has to avoid her. Once he's able to snap out of this stupid roller coaster of emotion he'll start talking to her again. He has to regain his control, his composure. He has to rebuild his mask. He's not supposed to feel this way. He's just the creepy kid. That's all. Nothing more. The creepy kid lucky enough to be friends with the greatest person in the world, and he doesn't want to ruin that friendship. Not in a million years, and not because of this stupid feeling.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Rangiku shrieks, jumping back from her dress. A wide smile cracks on her face. Yumichika almost pricks himself with the pin poking out of his mouth, but manages not to suck the little guy down his throat and die. He pulls it out with careful fingers and turns to the strawberry-blond.
"What do you think you're doing?" he snaps, placing a hand to his chest. "You shouldn't be yelling like a maniac when there are pins and needles everywhere."
She brushes him off.
"Come on," she says, swatting her hand, "I'm just expressing my joy. Anyway, I'm done my dress!" She raises her chin high and crosses her arms, proud. "I've finally finished. Took long enough, I thought I was never going to finalize this thing, and it's only like," she checks the clock hanging on the wall, "ten thirty." Her eyes widen. "Holy crap."
Yumichika glances to the mannequin, eyeing it from top to bottom, then looks back at Rangiku.
"Hm," he grunts. "It's alright." She raises a brow at his response. "But if I were you, I would get rid of all that lavender and switch it with gold. Gold is much more beautiful. And that pink, I know you're trying to go for a cocktail dress, but really, pink? You know there are other colours you could have chosen from, like carmine or vermilion."
"Geez, why do you always have to be so nitpicky?"
"I'm not being nitpicky. I'm voicing my opinion."
"Whatever," she says, smiling at her design, "I like it."
Yumichika turns away and gazes at his own mannequin. Unlike Rangiku's playful style of clothing, his is more on the romantic and sophisticated side. His mannequin is wearing a red button up shirt, complimented by a gold tie with a lace pattern embroidered on its surface. The trousers are black, clean, crisp and ready to be worn by any who value fashion. He had ironed them, just yesterday actually, and he has to admit that he finds ironed pants quite pleasing to the eye. He grins. Ah, he does have to confess he is quite the design student, a legend, even. He wouldn't be surprised if he were the top student in their program. Oh, but now he's being a bit narcissistic, isn't he? Hm, oh well.
He glances away from his work when he notices Rangiku's stance shifting from one of confidence to worry. Strange. He observes her carefully as she brings her phone closer to her face. The screen illuminating her cheeks like the headlights of a car. She bites her lip, leans on her left leg and stares with a sense of uncertainty in her eyes. He frowns. This is not the Rangiku he knows.
"What's wrong?" he asks, strutting over to her side of the studio. She doesn't seem to have heard him. He crosses his arms. "Rangiku."
"Yeah?"
"I asked you a question."
"Sorry," she says, looking away from the small device, "what was your question?"
She seems a bit out of the loop. She's preoccupied with something. He glances at her phone. Is she waiting for someone to call? An employer maybe? No. She doesn't have time for a job. He catches her gaze, she seems a bit sad. He takes a step closer.
"Is there something bothering you?" he asks, not liking how her expression falls.
"Gin was supposed to have messaged me by now," she says.
"Why?"
She sighs.
"Long story short, he lost his camcorder and he's supposed to update me if he's found it or not."
"He hasn't?" She shakes her head. "Then call him or something. Don't just wait around. Be assertive."
"I have," she says, letting out an exasperated breath. "Like a million times. I've texted him every single hour and I've called him five times now. I don't understand. He has his phone, I know it's charged." She furrows her brows, confused. "Do you think he's ignoring me or something?"
"Ignore, you?" Yumichika scoffs. "No, he couldn't if he tried." Rangiku purses her lips, checking her cell. "Maybe he lost his phone? If he's suddenly taken up the habit of losing things then it's safe to assume he's probably missed placed it." Yumichika yawns. "It's getting late." He checks his watch. "Ugh. I really hate having class at eight thirty in the morning, especially on a Monday." He heads over to his station and starts packing up. Rangiku doesn't make a move to get ready though. He pauses. "Forget about Gin," he says. "We've got a project due tomorrow, that's more important, and you really need to get to bed, you look tired. Beauty sleep will do you some good."
Rangiku waits for a second longer, but Gin doesn't respond to any of her messages. She turns off her phone and listens to Yumichika's advice. It's probably nothing.
Once in her dorm, she heads for bed whispering a small "goodnight" to the already sleeping Orihime. She sends the grey-haired boy one more text before falling asleep. But when Rangiku checks her phone the next morning, Gin still hasn't replied. She frowns. He doesn't reply the next day either, or the next. Her frown deepens and her worry morphs into annoyance.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Izuru jumps in surprise when his phone chimes. He lifts his head off his desk, a little groggy, and glances over his textbook, peering at his phone. He blinks, grabs the device and reads the message. He turns around and stares at Gin whose eyes are glued to his laptop.
"Hey," he speaks up, resting his elbow on the back of his chair, "Rangiku texted me." Gin's shoulders tense, weird, but Izuru doesn't dwell on it. "Is your phone off? She said she's trying to reach you." The grey-haired boy shrugs, still working on his short film. Izuru receives another message. He reads it, raises a brow then look back at his roommate. "Rangiku says she's fed up and that she's marching up the stairs right now."
Gin stops what he's doing. He saves his file, shoves his equipment into his bag, zips out of his chair, tugs on his shoes and yanks open the door.
"Where are you going?" Izuru asks, frowning.
"Nowhere special," is Gin's reply before closing the door behind him.
It only takes three minutes later until Rangiku is pounding on their door.
"Let me in!" she barks.
Izuru jolts up, startled by the noise, and rushes for the knob. His face bleaches white at the sight of the strawberry-blond. Rangiku's eyes are burning with fury and her hands are constricted with rage. Her brows are furrowed and her teeth are clenched, seething.
"Where the heck is he?" she demands, stomping inside. She fumes when he is not sitting at his desk nor lying on his bed. She snaps her glare to Izuru who trembles by the entrance. She growls.
"I –" He fumbles around for an explanation, afraid of saying anything that will add fuel to the fire. "He left, like a couple minutes ago." He points to the open doorway.
"Where did he go?"
"I don't know. I – I assumed he was going to meet up with you."
She stalks up to him as he shrinks in size. Her hair almost bursts into flames.
She doesn't want to play this stupid game anymore. Gin has been avoiding her for the past three days and it is pissing her off. He hasn't even told her if he found his dumb camcorder! Like what? Hadn't she made it clear that she wanted to be updated? She didn't spend a tremendous amount of time looking for it for no reason! She wants to know if he's found it or not.
She breathes out, steam almost pouring out of her ears. What the heck is wrong with this guy? Doesn't he know that avoiding someone is completely immature? He isn't a little kid anymore, he's a grown man. And he has no reason to avoid her in the first place! Is this some kind of sick joke? What has she done, huh? All she does is care for him, make him laugh, spend time with him, help him with whatever he needs help with, but now he's avoiding her? Her veins pulse with aggravation. Being ignored is not cool.
"That annoying piece of – "
"What's going on?" someone asks, peeking in from the hallway.
She turns away from Izuru, the poor boy almost turning into a puddle of goo from her fierce glare.
"Shiro? What are you doing here?"
"Toshiro. I was passing by," he says, crossing his arms. "What's wrong? You seem infuriated."
"I am," she answers, stepping out of the room and into the hall. She places her hands on her hips, trying not to explode. Doesn't Gin know that avoiding someone is absolutely cruel? Doesn't he care at all about how it makes the other person feel? "Gin is ignoring my calls and texts. He even ditches his room when I come on by to see what's wrong." She looks to the short boy, irritated. "I don't understand. One second we're soul mates, having a good time, and the next he's treating me like the plague."
Toshiro gives her a look.
"I saw him not too long ago."
"What?!" Her eyes widen. "Where?"
"I believe he was heading towards the library, quite quickly might I add." He watches her expression switch from fury to outrage.
"He was acting kind of weird," Izuru says, peeking from his room, "when I mentioned that you," he glances at Rangiku, "had messaged me, I mean."
"Weird how?" Toshiro asks.
"I don't know. He looked stressed or something."
"Stressed?" Rangiku snaps. She scrunches her face, annoyed. "He was probably stressed because he knew I was coming to beat him up. The punk. If he's trying to act all cool and distant, I'm not buying it."
"Would you like some help tracking him?" Toshiro asks. "My next class doesn't start in another half an hour."
"Sure," she says, turning for the stairs. "You said he was heading for the library?"
"That is correct."
Izuru watches as the two leave. He glances back at his roommate's empty chair, wondering what has been bothering the guy. To go as far as avoid Rangiku no less. This must be a big deal. To avoid Rangiku is a declaration of war, a suicide mission. Gin is putting a lot on the line.
OoOoOoOoOoO
Dumb librarian. Can't let her in, huh? She leans back against the wall, waiting for Toshiro as he searches the library for the grey-haired boy. Why the heck is Gin acting this way? He knows he can talk to her about anything. She is definitely willing to listen to whatever concerns her may have. But no, he obviously wants to be difficult.
She huffs. How dare he ignore her. Does she mean nothing to him? He certainly means a lot to her. How can he just ignore her like this? She would never ignore Gin, never. This is ridiculous. Why can't he just talk to her? Is talking really that hard? She can feel a volcanic eruption about to explode in her gut. This is dumb. And why is it so difficult to track down this kid? Gin isn't the greatest runner, he couldn't have gone off too far.
A man steps out of the library.
"Aizen!" Rangiku calls, jumping in front of him. He blinks, startled, but sends her a smile.
"What a pleasant surprise," he says, adjusting the strap of his Michael Kors bag.
"Have you seen Gin? Is he in there somewhere?" She cocks her head to the library, her lips set in a hard frown.
Aizen looks at her for a moment before shaking his head.
"Is there something wrong?" he asks, his smile slipping into a line. He watches the annoyance flash across her face. Gin, Aizen internally sighs, what did you do?
"That stupid guy has been avoiding me for the past three days," she says.
Oh. He frowns.
"Avoiding you?"
"Yeah! And for no reason! The last time I saw him we were just joking around, having fun, and then bam! I never hear from him again."
Aizen turns to the library. He hadn't seen him inside. The guy must have noticed he was being followed and chose to hide somewhere else. He sighs. Gin is really not coping well with all of this. Maybe he had put too much faith in him. He thought Gin was more responsible than this. Aizen should have just held his hand like a father and walked him over to Rangiku and told the girl himself that Gin loved her.
But to actually avoid Rangiku? Come on. He can't be serious. Is he really this afraid he'd lose her? Gin should have more confidence in himself. Doesn't he know that Rangiku cares about him, at least as a friend? A lot, he must add.
"What are you waiting out here for?" Aizen asks, turning to the girl.
"I'm waiting for Shiro. I'm not allowed inside so he went in to look for Gin instead." Rangiku glances away. "Speak of the devil." Toshiro stops beside them, empty handed. "You didn't find him?"
"No," he answers. "I looked everywhere and asked around but no one has seen him."
"Ugh. Why is Gin doing this? Where could he have gone?"
Aizen peeks over his shoulder, eyes gazing passed the glass doors of the main building. There are footprints in the snow. Aizen almost raises a brow. He wouldn't. Gin hates the cold. But to avoid Rangiku… Goodness.
"He might have gone outside," Aizen says, gesturing to the doors.
"No way." Rangiku waves her hand. "Do you know how cold it is? Gin would die just thinking about it."
"It may be a possibility," Toshiro says. "If he's avoiding you, he obviously doesn't want to be found. He must be hiding in the place you would least expect." She frowns.
"He doesn't want to see me that much?"
Toshiro's chest tightens at the look on her face.
"I don't think you've done anything wrong," Toshiro says, hoping to cheer the girl up. "There must be a more complicated reason for his odd behaviour." Her frown softens, but it doesn't go away.
"What should I do?" She holds her arms over her stomach, gaze drifting to the floor. "He's been acting weird for a while now, but I never thought it would result to something like this."
Had she done something to anger him? She doesn't know. Gin never tells her anything. He keeps all his feelings to himself. She wishes he would confide in her more, it would make situations like these much easier. She glances at the main doors, noticing the footprints in the snow. Why can't he just talk to her?
"I would suggest giving Gin some space for the time being," Aizen says. She looks at him with a somber expression. He places a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her not to give up. "Don't worry, I think Gin is just confused. He has a lot on his mind at the moment and needs to think things through." Rangiku nods. "But," he lets his hand fall back to his side, "if he's still avoiding you by the end of the week, I would suggest giving him a piece of your mind. This situation is ridiculous and he is making everything more difficult than it should be." He sighs, shaking his head. "If I come across him, I assure you I will give him a talking to."
She smiles.
"Thanks."
OoOoOoOoOoO
Orihime looks over her sketchbook. She watches as Rangiku folds a black T-shirt. The strawberry-blond is sitting on her knees, by her drawer, a little too quiet. The smell of laundry detergent fills her nose. Orihime smiles. Clean clothes are happy clothes, but Rangiku isn't smiling.
An empathetic feeling swells in Orihime's stomach.
"Are you doing ok?" Orihime asks. Rangiku stiffens, shrugging as a reply. "Gin is still avoiding you?" She sighs, nodding. "That's five days now."
"I know," Rangiku says, placing her T-shirt into her dresser. She turns to Orihime, an exasperated expression on her face. "Can you believe this guy? I don't understand what's going on. I literally have no clue."
"Well, it's already the end of the week, are you going to go into battle tomorrow?"
"It won't be much of a battle if I'm going up against a lanky film student."
Orihime chuckles as she places her sketchbook aside and flops down on her stomach. She embraces the feel of her blankets against her skin and rocks her feet in the air, propping her head up with her hands.
"I wonder why Gin is acting so strange," she says. She doesn't ever remember the grey-haired boy being this way. Then again, he had always been a mystery in her eyes; the creepy-looking kid who never let anyone too close for comfort. "You think he's some sort of secret agent?"
"No," Rangiku answers, grabbing another shirt. "He's not very stealthy, he'd trip on a rock and blow his cover." Orihime laughs. "But," Rangiku lowers the shirt onto her lap. Orihime takes in the muddled expression on the girl's face. "Whenever he doesn't know what to do with something, he always hides from it." She lowers her head. "Is he confused about something? Maybe I did something that offended him?"
"No, of course not." Orihime says. "I don't think you offended him. He's probably unsure about how he feels about you."
Rangiku looks up at her, urging her to elaborate.
"You see," Orihime says, "I can only talk from personal experience, but remember when I was confused about how I felt about Ulquiorra?" She nods. "Well, he was feeling the same way as I did, he was just as confused as I was. But he isn't the kind of person to just go up to a girl and declare his feelings. He's shy and unsure of how to talk about stuff like that. At first I had a hard time figuring out whether he liked me or not, but I started to notice when he'd tense up or stutter and blush." Orihime smiles. "Maybe Gin is the same way or something, and he doesn't know how to confront you about whatever he's dealing with." Rangiku bites the inside of her cheek in thought. "You always tell me to be bold, and to not hold back. So," she shuffles in her spot, "be bold!" Orihime's cheeks turn pink, a little embarrassed by her words. "It worked for me so, and you're a bold person anyway! Just um, give him a push, encourage him. Maybe Gin is shy like Ulquiorra?"
Rangiku grins.
"Shy?" she muses. "Hm. Yeah maybe. You never know." She chuckles at the thought. If he's shy, he hides it very well. He's always nonchalant about everything. Her eyes suddenly brighten. "Hey, do you think he might like me?"
"In a romantic way?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not sure. Do you want him to like you?" Orihime asks back, leaning closer.
"Of course I do!"
Orihime sends her a sly smile.
"Do you like him?"
Rangiku's cheeks dust with a faint rose.
"Yeah," she says, curling a lock of hair behind her ear. "I do." Orihime squeals.
"Ah, no way!" She giggles, blushing. "In a like like way?"
"Yeah. I've liked him for a while actually." Rangiku continues to fold her shirt. "It's weird how I've never talked about it."
"I think this is the first time you've ever mentioned liking someone." Orihime claps her hands, face gleaming. "This is so exciting! I'm so excited!" Rangiku laughs, enjoying the girl's reaction. "There is no doubt in my mind that Gin likes you back! This is exactly like a movie when best friends fall in love with each other! Ah, this is so cool!" Orihime grabs her sketchbook. "I feel inspired to draw a whole bunch of cheesy romance scenes now."
Rangiku shoves her last shirt into her dresser and stands, stretching her arms up in the air.
"Well, once I go into battle tomorrow and defeat the lanky film student, I'll tell you all about it."
Orihime bounces.
"I can't wait!"