I'm standing in front of you. I'm trying to be so cool, everything together, trying to be so cool.

. . .

The next time Ichigo had that humanities class that he shared with Renji, he felt a bit nervous. More than that, he was conflicted, which was probably why his stomach was so upset. He didn't know whether he hoped that Renji would show up or not show up – you know, so that he could avoid any weirdness. All the same, Ichigo had this irrational urge to see him again, even if only to see that he was okay.

He was unsure of what kind of awkwardness might ensue between them the next time they saw each other, considering Renji was likely to pretend that nothing was amiss and that nothing had happened over the weekend, despite the whole campus seeming to know about the whole thing. Keigo and a few others had already approached Ichigo about that fight. Who knew how much Renji had been heckled, what with his greater notoriety.

It wasn't that Ichigo particularly wanted to talk about it with Renji, but pretending nothing had happened after that interlude in the bathroom might… make him feel kinda' shit. Because deep down, he wanted to be proven wrong, even if it meant Grimmjow would get unbearably smug. He didn't want to go back to being invisible to Renji, not after that nose-flick. Maybe it had meant nothing much to Renji, but Ichigo's first full-blown romantic crush had come into bloom, and it was time to wake up and smell the roses. He wanted to be noticed, even if the attention came from having come to fisticuffs with another punk.

He just hoped that if Renji did come, he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of him. Ichigo didn't know if he'd be able to look him in the face without giving it away. He'd always been a good faker, but he was doubting himself suddenly. God, he really was nervous, wasn't he.

'These fucking butterflies!' Ichigo dug his fist into his stomach. 'Gah, this is stupid! He's just a person!' This is what he got for having a crush! It was his own fault really. He'd made his bed and now he had to lie in it, but this stupid thing felt like a grave.

So, having worked himself up into a ridiculous and entirely undetectable knot, Ichigo got to class forty minutes early, because the early bird got the worm – the spiky red caterpillar, to be exact. He sat in the empty lecture hall with his elbow on the table and played Monument Valley for ten minutes before the next early bird arrived.

Ichigo picked his head up and looked at the door anxiously, although it manifested in a disgruntled scowl. He knew Renji didn't come until just before class started, but he couldn't help that he kept watching the doorway for him. Would Renji show?

Ichigo tapped his foot against his chair leg unhappily. Who cared if he showed anyways, huh? Big jerk didn't even let his friends know if he was okay. Ichigo frowned. Was he okay? What could he be doing? Maybe couch-surfing at one of those benefit-friends' houses? The thought both hurt and annoyed him.

'Okay, stop it. You've gotta' get this thing under control.' Ichigo scowled at his phone screen. 'Play it cool, Kurosaki.'

It was ten minutes before class started when Ichigo heard Renji outside the room, fucking around with some other guys. He straightened in his chair. Renji was here early! When he came into view, he was being noogied and slapped on the back as per usual, and then he finally came in after what felt like forever. Ichigo quickly averted his eyes and put his phone away, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, forcing down all his mad fidgeting.

Renji immediately grinned at him and bounded up the steps, and, seeming unperturbed by Ichigo's lack of response or even notice, slid into the chair directly next to him. That drew Ichigo's attention, and his faux casual position grew as stiff as if ice had been injected into every joint. The girl who sat between them usually arrived after Renji did, but Renji had never taken her seat before until today, at least not without asking a simple question of courtesy so that Ichigo had the option of telling him to get the fuck out of his face. This time, there he was, brazen as all hell as he slapped his backpack onto the table and slid around in the chair until he found a comfortable position, leaving the girl the option of sitting on his other side where he usually sat.

Oh no, there would be no pretending to ignore each other today, it seemed.

Ichigo darted his eye up again, glancing at him in as nonchalant a gesture as he could slap together. Renji was openly grinning at him, half-turned in his chair towards him, a direct invitation for conversation.

Renji's undifferentiated friendliness inexplicably hardened Ichigo's heart, and after a single look at his glowing bashed-up face, he merely grimaced and faced forward again, because never say die. He'd ignore this dumb love-seed 'till it grew into a goddamn choking vine. It would be cruel to do otherwise, to entertain any hope that it could flower without any sun. It'd be stupid of him.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Renji prompted eagerly, and Ichigo was weak.

'Aw, god damnit.'

Ichigo discreetly glanced around, judging helplessly whether Renji was addressing someone else, because it was entirely possible and Ichigo didn't need to look like a complete idiot today. When it was clear that yeah, no, Renji's definitely talking to him, Ichigo had to take a moment to wonder what the fuck was going on with his life and what the fuck kind of head injury Renji had sustained to make him so openly friendly and familiar with just anybody. They weren't friends, right? That much was clear. Sure, Ichigo knew that being in a fight together did things to people, but it certainly didn't mean that the two of them were tight like that.

Feeling suddenly sick, he wondered if Renji felt beholden to him now, after he'd patched him up that night. He knew that he shouldn't want that kind of pity, he shouldn't want friendship born out of pity-kindness – he should feel bad that he was just as soft and weak as everybody else was for that way Renji had about him, the way he looked at you with rapt attention when he talked to you and made you feel like the only person in the room, made you feel special.

Squirming, Ichigo grit his teeth together and didn't know what to say, feeling stuck, although he knew his face was as solemn and unchanged as a stone edifice.

Renji started to look at him kind of funny when he let the silence go on longer than was socially acceptable. Finally, rather than greeting Renji in return, Ichigo rudely began, "Uhh, Hisagi-san was looking for you." He rubbed at his hair, muttering, "Came to my dorm and everything and said you've been missing classes." Ichigo locked his feet against the table leg to keep himself from anxiously spinning in his chair.

Renji lounged, sprawled out with his legs spread obscenely wide and his arms over the back of his chair, the very picture of unconcerned chillitude. Ichigo didn't bother even looking at him while he talked, instead blandly staring forward, down at the professor where he was organizing shit on his desk.

"Ah yeah, that," Renji sighed uncaringly. "He's just worried 'cuz I hocked my Xbox. He probably thinks I have a mob hit on me if I needed money that bad that I sold it." He paused momentarily and then muttered that he'd saved for that thing for ages. Ichigo flicked his eye over at him to see him pouting a bit and wiggling his jaw.

"Nah man, he was worried that you weren't back," Ichigo noted.

"It's whatever," he dismissed. "I just crashed at my senpai's place and then saw a doctor about my teeth." He gave a grin then. "You're pretty good, you were right about that splint thing!" He hit Ichigo on the arm with the back of his hand in what was probably a show of solidarity, sort of the way Grimmjow did, but less rough.

Ichigo looked at the spot he'd smacked and then at Renji with a mere flick of his eyes, his scowl deepening a minute amount. He didn't say anything to invite further conversation, but Renji kept talking, sharing what Ichigo thought was entirely too much considering that they weren't close.

"It's just been crazy trying to make up my classwork and everything, y'know?" he said with a tired sigh, rubbing his forehead, and Ichigo relaxed a bit from his forced position of 'I-don't-care-about-literally-anything,' enough that his hands immediately began to shake and fidget with his pencil and his stomach started knotting up.

Fucking hell, Renji was talking to him. This was his chance to be friendly and make Renji like him - don't say anything dumb, be cool. Be cool, Kurosaki.

"Yeah, I heard the engineering program's pretty intense." He looked at Renji a bit that time, turning his head towards him and making a brief flash of eye contact. The color was dark brown, a warm and easy thing to look at despite the harsh shape to Renji's eyes.

Renji smiled and his eyes did this crinkle thing in the corner that completely softened the sharpness of his profile. Taken aback, Ichigo turned his face forward again, because fuck looking at that shit.

Renji lurched up in his chair and put his elbows on the table as if to follow his averted gaze and turn it back onto himself, but Ichigo didn't accommodate him. "It's tough, but the harder it gets, the more I feel like I'm really gonna' accomplish something when I get outta' here, y'know?" Renji lost his smile at that and looked forward too, away, which drew a wary glance from Ichigo. "I'm gonna' do shit. Ain't gonna' live no worthless life."

"Uhh, yeah," Ichigo supplied awkwardly, staring at him, and it was quiet for a moment in which Ichigo desperately resisted the urge to slap his hand to his forehead. Renji had said something kind of deep and personal to him, and all he could say was 'yeah?'

Luckily, Renji didn't seem bothered, rolling with it in that amiable way he had. "What about you, huh?" He leaned on one elbow, facing Ichigo fully, which had Ichigo quickly looking away again. "You probably like helping people if you're in the med program, right?" He grinned and then patted his bandages. "I kept all my bandaids on like you said, nurse," he teased with a smile, not a smirk.

"'Pff," Ichigo spat, rolling his eyes and leaning back again with his arms crossed, swinging in his chair once or twice, but only because he was embarrassingly pleased, albeit a little incredulous to see that Renji hadn't changed or taken off those disgusting old bandages. They were a few days old now, and the one taped to the side of his head was dark with dried blood and probably crawling with bacteria.

Renji laughed a little more, seemingly at his reaction, and Ichigo peeked up at him with what he hoped was a convincing scowl, because as Renji angled his head, his eyes caught the light and that dark brown lit up and glowed almost red like some kind of chocolate-covered cherry, and shit… it's pretty.

Pretty, uh… pretty terrifying.

"Uhh… yeah," he replied, brain squealing as it struggled to go through its back-records after the thousand something instant-replay snapshots of that charming smile had clogged up his system. "Yeah," he rubbed his brow, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm lookin' to be an EMT."

"Nice, nice." Renji seemed to wriggle in his chair like an excited animal, and then leaned across the table even further on one elbow to try to peer around Ichigo and into his face. Ichigo finally took pity that time and looked at him mildly, frowning.

"So, uh," Renji began, "I've seen you out jogging before." His grin cracked wider at that, and then wider still when Ichigo's jaw slackened in flummoxed mortification. From Renji's tone, he had to wonder if he was being teased. He really didn't know how to respond to that. He'd had no idea Renji had ever seen him run. Shit, that was a little embarrassing.

"Ah," he said shortly, clearing his throat. "Uh, I did track in high school, so… I got used to it, I guess."

'Okay, Ichigo, you sound like a fucking zombie, knock this shit off,' he mentally scolded, feeling a sense of panic welling up within him. 'Why is he still smiling? All you've done is act like a punk and an asshole for the entirety of this conversation.'

"Ah, cool," Renji said, his grin stretching wider for a moment again. "Explains a lot." His eyes flicked down and over Ichigo and then back up, unmistakably and directly flirty.

"Explains what?" Ichigo demanded, feeling hot and tingly everywhere Renji had looked at him.

That was when the professor started class, and Ichigo reluctantly turned forward, knowing there was no point in grilling Renji for more answers, because ever since Ichigo had let go of the preconception that Renji was an idiot slacker, he'd found that Renji was surprisingly very dedicated to his schoolwork and paid close attention in class.

During lecture, after Ichigo had finally started to focus on taking notes, Renji did the damn stretch thing he always did after about twenty minutes of diligent studying and hunching over the table. Ichigo didn't let himself look, because the audible stimuli were already enough to send his imagination running rampant.

This time was different however, since after stretching, Renji slid his notebook towards Ichigo, who questioningly looked up, only to see Renji listening closely to the teacher. Ichigo swallowed and looked down at the heavily creased page, imprinted all over from where Renji had pressed his pencil in. Circled in the bottom corner of the page was a drawing, and if he hadn't believed before that this guy and Rukia had once been friends, he believed it now.

The drawing was of bunnies like Ichigo always saw Rukia draw, except these weren't as good as Rukia's by a long shot – which wasn't saying that Rukia's were good either, of course.

One bunny was lying on the ground with a skull and crossbones above it and what looked like a rabbit ghost floating out of its mouth, and the other bunny was standing next to it and making muscley arms. There were a lot of sparkles around its bunny legs. A note next to the picture indicated: 'The one with the killer legs is you.'

Ichigo stared at it for a long long time, then hesitantly, glancing at Renji a few times, wrote, 'What's that one?' drawing an arrow at the dead rabbit.

'That's me,' Renji wrote back.

"Why're you dead?" Ichigo murmured aloud, bewildered and tingling all over.

'I don't run I smoke.'

Ichigo snorted, and feeling rather daring, wrote, 'weak sauce.'

And Renji smiled and smiled and Ichigo felt like he was staring into a solar eclipse. It was beautiful and breathtaking and though it was nature's work and completely arbitrary, it felt rare and special – and it hurt. It hurt to look at. Couldn't forget that part.

. . .

Once break rolled around, Renji got up and took his customary walk-around in the hallway, stretching his certified weak-sauce legs – by the way, that was a load of bullshit. He'd seen Renji in running shorts before, and his quads were amazing.

Ichigo noticed that Renji got a bit stir-crazy around the forty-minute mark of class-time. That was a long time to sit still and pay attention for some people. Anyways, after an hour and half, there was always a fifteen minute break halfway through class, and Ichigo took the opportunity to use the restroom and get a drink at the water fountain, then went back to his seat. Renji usually came back right as the lesson began again, but today he followed Ichigo back into the classroom and sat his ass on the tabletop, causing Ichigo to look up from his phone.

He began talking to Ichigo again without even the semblance of a second thought. "Hey man, you wanna' text or something?" he asked.

Ichigo just stared up at him for a moment or two, his lips parted. "Okay," he heard himself say.

"Great," Renji said, grinning and dropping down onto his feet, digging his phone out of his pants, which momentarily exposed his stomach and his plaid boxers and the thick leather belt holding up his jeans. "Gimme' your number and I'll shoot you a message later."

They told each other the numbers, and Ichigo numbly asked about Renji's name spelling, staring at his phone screen in disbelief. He was putting Renji into his contacts – this all felt very surreal.

"Which characters do you spell that with?" He took a glance up. "'Ren' like in 'renzoku?' Or… like 'lotus?'"

"'Ren' like in 'renai,'" Renji returned with a smirk, giving him a suggestive look that was clearly meant to make him squirm. Ichigo tried not to blush, fingers fumbling as he typed in 'koi' and then 'tsugi' and stared at the name for a moment and tried not to think about the dirty way Renji had insinuated that his name meant he was always looking for his next love affair.

Renji then asked about his name spelling, and to Ichigo's great surprise, he didn't say anything about strawberries. "And your 'go' isn't 'word,' it's… the 'go' in 'condom?'"

"'Go' in 'protect!'" Ichigo sputtered indignantly. There was no way in hell he was going down as Ichi-gomu in Renji's contacts! God, he's glad Grimmjow had never made that connection. That was way worse than being called a strawberry!

"Hah, I'm just yankin' ya'," Renji teased. Then he gave Ichigo a grin and asked, "So, uh, what're your hobbies?"

"Huh?"

"Y'know, what do you like to do?" he prompted after Ichigo just stared at him dumbly.

The lecture started again at that point, and Renji shrugged and sat back down.

Ichigo had figured that this weird day of conversation was over, and once the lesson was finished, he got his stuff together and prepared to leave. He purposefully stalled, but it soon became obvious that Renji was doing the same, hanging back deliberately to wait for him.

Renji slung his backpack on and followed Ichigo out of the room, matching his strides. Ichigo pretended not to notice, that is, until Renji asked again, "So whatta' you do in your spare time?"

"Ah…" His mind blanked on everything he ever did, distracted by the fact that Renji had bothered to continue this conversation and was actively following him. Finally he said, "I mostly just study and go to the park to run." He scratched his head and then finished lamely, "I dunno'."

"Lotta' free time then?" Renji surmised.

"I guess." Now that he thought about it, he hadn't really hung out with anyone much in a long time – Rukia notwithstanding of course. It had been like that ever since Chad had gone to a different college. Keigo asked him a lot, but he could be exhausting. Day to day, Ichigo didn't do much of anything really, other than school.

"Great." Renji beamed, "Awesome!"

For a moment, Ichigo almost thought they'd just made plans or something without him realizing what was happening, but before he could figure out what was going on, Renji started heading off with a hand raised. "I'll see you later."

Ichigo stared after him for a moment, bewildered. Weird. Fucking weird.

Later when he was at home that afternoon, he had his head shoved on his bed and was moaning to himself, because all that time spent covertly watching Renji around campus, and all the energy used up correcting his misconceptions about him, and all the effort used to keep his interest to himself, and let's not forget all the inconvenient boners – all of that had been this far-off thing based on speculation and fantasy and hopeful thinking. Things had changed since then. Things had gotten real.

Renji had flirted with him several times now and had given him his phone number, an obvious extension of a hand of friendship. Things had definitely changed. What hadn't changed was Ichigo and his fucking awkward…everything.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? What did he do now? He wasn't cool. He wasn't interesting. He couldn't just talk to Renji. If he did, Renji would realize that he was boring…

"I'm a fucking loser, Grimm," Ichigo called sadly into his pillow.

"What's new," Grimmjow replied flatly as if nothing was amiss, chewing a huge wad of tobacco like it was tough steak.

"No really," Ichigo said in dismay, lifting his head up. "I act like I'm fucking braindead when I'm around him." He sighed, rolling himself onto his back, an arm strewn across his forehead. "I gotta' get ridda' this thing," he said, "It's screwing up my life."

Grimmjow didn't look at him, but he did move his headset off one ear. "Look Ichigo, I'm gonna' hit you with the hard facts a' life." Grimmjow did look at him then, just for a minute, a harsh glare going his way. "You're bein' a faggotty pussy, an' worse than that, you're bein' a chump." Ichigo rolled himself back over and hugged his pillow to his face, scowling.

Grimmjow ranted then, growing angrier as he listed things off, "You know he's down for guys. You know he's at least not a complete asshole. You're in the same class for crying out loud, what's it gonna' take?" Ichigo sighed roughly and lifted up onto his elbows. Grimmjow fully turned towards him again, sufficiently distracted from his game. "No really, what's it gonna' fuckin' take for you to decide you're tired a' bein' alone, huh? What's he gotta' do? "

Ichigo stuck his lip out, having been ready to protest before, but his words having since died. He let his head drop onto the bed and wanted to die. He's never going to get rid of this crush, he's never going to be able to confess, and Renji doesn't like him – and if by some miracle he did, he'd soon realize Ichigo wasn't fun or interesting and would move off. Ichigo was just doomed to suffer. Grimmjow's wrong. It's way more complicated than it sounds.

"You're seriously never gonna' have a better chance, Kurosaki. If you think you wanna' wait for the right time or some shit, lemme' tell you, there is no right time." In response, Ichigo merely lay there in petulant miserable silence.

"Kurosaki, it's not hard. Just ask him out, an' then you'll know. If he says 'hell yeah,' great. If he says 'fuck no,' then whatever."

"… You think?" Ichigo picked his head up from his bed and looked over at Grimmjow, who was facing away from him, sprawled across the couch, but still visible from his bright head on one side, his feet on the other, and one elbow up in the middle.

"Yes," Grimmjow said plainly, as if it were stupidly obvious, "It's that easy."

Ichigo thought this over for some time, resting his chin on his forearm. It was quiet hour, which meant Grimmjow had started playing video games to pass the time – which by extension meant that the RA had pounded on their door several times to get Grimmjow to shut up screaming at their TV, because there's no such thing as quiet Black Ops for Grimmjow.

Ichigo contemplated the advice. It was hard to pick up on, but he recognized that this was Grimmjow being nice and supportive. Ichigo was still learning to parse it, because it was often disguised by slurs, shaming, and a really surly attitude, but that was it with Grimmjow, because the guy had no feelings, remember?

Judging based on whether or not he was smiling didn't help either, because a smile on that guy never meant anything good for anyone. In fact, Ichigo had come to interpret Grimmjow smiling as a display of aggression rather than happiness.

Well, if that was Grimmjow's nice advice, then maybe there was something to be considered there.

Ichigo frowned and put his head back down and shoved his phone under his pillow so that he couldn't keep checking it for messages – not before putting it on the highest volume possible of course.

He hoped Renji would call.