Oh, I just died in your arms tonight, it must've been something you said.
I should've walked away, I should've walked away.
. . .
Ichigo moved in with little incident, and for the next few weeks, all supernatural happenings were at a standstill, as if to taunt Ichigo and make him doubt his own sanity. If he hadn't already concluded that it couldn't have been Renji screwing around, he might have gone back to the idea that Renji had just been pranking him and had ceased momentarily to convince him to stay, now that he'd moved in.
However, the fact that everything was normal didn't make it seem any less eerily normal. Every time the hairs rose at the back of his neck and he turned to find nothing there, every time he flinched reflexively after turning a lightswitch, every long night spent listening to the house creak as he tried to fall asleep, he began to feel more and more silly for being so jumpy.
Everything was completely ordinary.
In time he began to forget about what he'd seen - or thought he'd seen. Maybe he really had just gotten paranoid like Renji had said. Of course there was no such thing as ghosts.
Ichigo came to like it. The house was sunny and sweet-smelling with the summer breeze blowing through the opened windows. He and Renji cleaned out the dusty rooms together, taking out the old furniture that remained and putting it in the front yard to be moved into storage until it could be sold or donated.
It'd been fun actually, making the place into their new home. They'd picked out colors to repaint the walls, ordered easy-to-make furniture, and looked up do-it-yourself repairs online daily. They played in the backyard and napped in the sun together. Once they got everything situated, they were thinking of adopting a cat.
He'd told his sisters where he was, and most of his stuff was either at Renji's house or in boxes at home, but he was still putting off talking to his dad about it, even though he knew that his sisters had probably told him. There never seemed to be a good time, and honestly, Ichigo didn't see the point. What would it do other than cause a fight or an unnecessary emotional display?
One night, after a long day, he and Renji rewarded themselves for their hard work by lazing around on the couch together, watching kaiju films. At some point, they must have fallen asleep, because when Ichigo next opened his eyes, Renji's cushy pectorals pillowing his head, he saw that the television was still on, but was playing snow.
He shut his eyes in annoyance. Now the TV was busted too? Sure, it was a piece of junk, but it was Renji's, and he loved that old thing, so Ichigo never said shit about it. Dang, Renji was going to be sad when he saw this.
Ichigo opened an eye when the channels suddenly began flicking at random. For a second he thought one of them must be lying on the remote. . . but no, there it was, on the floor.
He glared at the TV. 'Damn faulty wiring,' he thought vaguely even though he knew that would probably mean the TV would turn on and off, not change channels.
As the channels flicked through, Ichigo watched with a frown as in tandem, as if in a natural sentence, one newscaster said, 'At that time, the perpetrator-'
The channel changed, and a kid from a sitcom said, 'she just got up-'
'He's gone, he went-'
'Upstairs and then-'
The TV got stuck on a cooking show on a shot of a guy chopping the head off a tuna. Lovely. Okay, that had all been kinda' freaky. A few months ago, he might have pinned the message on coincidence with no trace of doubt, but now Ichigo felt uneasy, staring at the screen for a long time, but nothing else happened besides the tuna being filleted and descaled.
He took himself out from under Renji's heavy warm arm and got up, walked out of the room, and lingered in the doorway. He didn't know what he was doing, acting like a fool in the dark, didn't know what he wanted to happen. He and Renji have watched enough hokey horror flicks to know that acting dumb in a spooky old house just made you a jackass that would end up dying pointlessly, but creeped out as he was, he peeked around the corner of the doorway, and when he saw nothing, walked out into the hall.
Ichigo stood still and looked down to the end, waiting, and when his heartbeat quieted, he heard it again, the same sound from a month ago.
Someone was crying upstairs.
The last time he'd heard it, he'd thought for a second that Renji was the one crying but there was no way this time with him zonked out behind him on the couch.
Listening to the noise for a few seconds, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. At first Ichigo thought to ignore it and tiptoe back to Renji, his gut squirming with nerves and uneasiness, but he couldn't help but feel curious. This kind of thing hadn't happened in weeks. He'd started to think he'd imagined it all. He felt this spiteful, maybe reckless need to prove to himself once and for all whether ghosts were real or not.
Ichigo slowly made his way to the staircase, looking up at the top almost expectantly. He stood at the bottom, fidgeting anxiously, twice almost turning back, but eventually began to climb, as quiet as a mouse. He took only a few steps at a time, with great caution, stopping every so often to listen and gather his courage again. When he at last came to the top, he looked down the hallway, and even though he was anticipating it, he still felt that horrible jolt when he caught sight of the white figure at the other end of the hall. He stared for a full second or two, not even breathing, trying to get a sense of what he was looking at.
It didn't move immediately this time, just standing there for a few long moments, and when Ichigo at last took a shaky breath, he promptly jumped out of his skin when its head snapped around and it suddenly began moving down the hall towards him, fast.
Ichigo didn't think other than a blind panic and took off in the other direction, breathing hard and shutting himself in Renji's room. There wasn't a bolt or any big piece of furniture to lock the door with, and instead of throwing his weight on the door to hold it shut, too scared to think to do that, Ichigo backed up towards the far wall, feeling cornered. He looked around for something to use as a weapon, even though what the fuck would even work on a ghost?!
He could hear the footsteps coming, and he coiled himself up tight in anticipation as the door handle turned, frozen in place by overpowering dread. When the door opened, Renji came through. Ichigo's shoulders fell as he gaped breathlessly.
"There you are," he said sleepily. "You should've woken me up."
By that point, he was pretty much convinced that Renji wasn't fucking with him. His boyfriend could be a bullshit artist, but he wasn't that good.
Ichigo didn't go to the bathroom that night no matter how bad he had to go, not wanting to go alone, and too prideful to go through the shame of asking Renji to come with him.
The following day, the two of them enjoyed the nice weather by lounging around in the yard, sipping lemonades and sitting at the rusty patio table. Squirming uncomfortably, Ichigo at last muttered, trying to sound offhand, "Renji, did you find anything out about the property when you got it?"
Renji was reading a magazine, the wind blowing through his hair, his feet up on Ichigo's lap under the table. Ichigo had to look at him for a few moments, just look at him, and try not to give this soft smile. Other than the ghost shit and the constant pit of danger and unease in his gut, Ichigo's life has been great lately. Renji has been an absolute sweetheart to him in the past weeks, openly grateful that he got to be with him every day.
He'd toned down the craziness and had been really loving since he'd moved in, attached at the hip and in a really good mood. In other words, he hasn't been picking at him or teasing him as much lately, too lovey to find the energy to act like a little shit.
"Hm?" Renji wondered, looking up, "Whatcha' mean?"
"Like… any weird stuff…" Ichigo pulled on the hair at the back of his neck. He knew he should just quit fidgeting and act casual so Renji wouldn't see that he was bothered, but he couldn't help it.
"Uhh, the old owner used to collect encyclopedias," Renji remembered after a thoughtful frown. Ichigo squirmed a little more.
"No, I mean like… did someone die here," he clarified, "That kind of thing." Renji frowned more, eyebrows pushed together.
"I dunno', babe, maybe," he said, as if he was trying to figure out why Ichigo would ask such a weird thing.
"Okay well, can you find out about it or something?" Looking at him more directly, Renji pursed his lips together, a knowing look coming over his face suddenly. Ichigo sighed, rolling his eyes. Shit, he's been caught.
"Wait… Is this still about that ghost thing?" Renji pinpointed with a tone that was just close enough to scolding that Ichigo felt ashamed.
Tightlipped, Ichigo didn't reply, refusing to look at him. ". . ."
". . ." Equally stubborn, Renji just stared back at him until at last he broke, groaning in annoyance.
"You haven't played Hide-and-seek Alone here and not told me, have you?" Ichigo mumbled, picking at a rusty flake of paint on the tabletop. It was the only thing that might make some sort of sense, if Ichigo believed that game were real, which he didn't - but who knew anymore. It would explain the white-face that looked eerily like some sort of mirror image of himself, but then, if Renji had played, wouldn't it look like Renji?
"What? No," Renji said incredulously, which just made Ichigo more embarrassed. "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff."
"..." Ichigo pulled on his ear and stared at his glass of lemonade, downcast. Renji tried to duck and meet his eyes.
"You still scared?" he asked quietly.
"Fuck off, I'm not scared!" Ichigo snapped, crossing his arms in a sulk. "Whatever, I'll look it up myself," he growled as he began to blush, humiliated.
"I mean, I will if it'll make you feel better," Renji said with a frown, as if he felt bad about it - which in fact, just made Ichigo feel worse that Renji was worried about him even though he knew Renji thought he was being silly, getting spooked over nothing.
If Ichigo had ever entertained the thought of sharing with Renji what he thought was happening, he knew now that he couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell him he'd seen a ghost or that his house was being haunted or whatever. Renji clearly thought he'd spooked himself over nothing, and Renji had such a big heart that even if he didn't believe Ichigo, he'd still want to make him feel safe. Ichigo didn't think he could bear the shame of Renji thinking of him like that, a pathetic coward who was scared of an old creaky house.
"No, forget it," he said flatly, looking away. Renji was quiet for a few moments.
"Okay," he said at last. "If you're sure." Ichigo sighed in relief when Renji picked up on the unspoken cue to let the matter drop, and changed the subject. "You look really pretty out here," he said, getting all spoony.
"Pretty, huh?" Ichigo muttered, raising an eyebrow and sipping his drink.
"Yeah, your hair's golden in the sun." Renji put his chin on his fist and looked at him, just looked at him, smiling broadly.
"No, I mean, you used to think I was hot." Renji snorted, tilting his head.
"What, did you like that one better?" he wondered curiously. Ichigo gave a half-smile when Renji started playing with his fingers.
"It's just different," he said.
"Good different?" He met Renji's eyes for a second.
Ever since the whatever had changed, things had been very very different, but good, good beyond his wildest dreams.
Ichigo shrugged lazily. He curled his finger in a 'come here' gesture, and Renji leaned in over the table and kissed him. "Hm," he sighed, the wind blowing Renji's hair around their faces gently.
"Do you think we can hang a hammock up out here?" Ichigo wondered, looking around the sunny yard. Renji stared at him silently for a few second, his eyes large and adoring.
"Bro," he whispered. "Yes."
Ichigo broke into uncontrollable laughter. "Did you just cum or something?!"
"NO! Gaah, I just love you! You're great!" Renji grabbed him by the arms and shook him around, and when Ichigo shoved him back, it devolved quickly into wrestling in the sunny grass.
Renji, the big sweetie, did end up talking to the previous owner anyways despite Ichigo's protests that afternoon. Knowing Ichigo would refuse the information if he brought it up in conversation again, he instead left Ichigo their contact info and a note telling him that the house had been owned by this one family for a long time before changing hands and being sold to the person who'd sold it to Renji.
Ichigo scowled, feeling embarrassed all over again that Renji had gone to the trouble just to try and make him less scared, but all the same, he used the contact information to try and do some late night internet research.
He didn't find anything very interesting, just old people who'd bit it after owning the home a long time. Renji was right about it having been owned by the same family for ages and then suddenly being sold off. After a few hours, Ichigo found an archive of the old local paper, using the find tool to locate all instances of the family's last name. He found a mention of some births, some school awards, and a mention of the death of a young man who'd lived in this home with his family. He'd died of consumption - Ichigo thought that meant tuberculosis.
Having found at least three given names to go with the family name, he at last turned up some old photographs, and a family picture. There was a father and mother, three grandparents, and a little girl - and a young man with a cat in his arms.
Ichigo stared at the photo for a long time, at the guy's face, a chill running up his spine.
He closed the page and then shut his laptop. He decided not to tell Renji what he'd found, more disturbed and uneasy than ever.
He was able to get some sleep that night after a long time, eventually putting the photo out of his mind. The name didn't go away though, and thinking back on the white face he kept seeing around, it made him shiver a little.
The kid's name had been Shiro.