TWELVE::
When Ishida woke up, Renji's face was inches away from his own. The lieutenant was glaring at him and his breath didn't exactly smell like roses.
"What're you doin in my bed?" Renji asked suspiciously.
Ishida couldn't help making a face and planted a hand on Renji's mouth to push him away. "Go brush your teeth!"
Renji repeated his question through Ishida's hand, the words greatly muffled but still understandable. His teeth felt fuzzy and slimy against Ishida's palm and the quincy fought down a shudder.
"You're the one who trapped me here when I was trying to get down, so if you didn't sleep well, it's your own fault!" Ishida struggled upright and stretched awkwardly around Renji's hunched form. He actually felt... pretty good. Not that he was going to tell Renji Abarai that little tidbit!
"We didn't...?"
Ishida smacked him across the back of his head, making the shinigami curl forward to the mattress with a groan. Ishida winced sympathetically – the man probably had a monster headache. But that didn't excuse him from being an asshole!
"I'm not even going to qualify that with an answer," Ishida quipped, climbing around Renji to the ladder. "Besides, you were so drunk last night that I doubt you could have," he delivered as an afterthought, sufficiently satisfied by Renji's shocked look to assuage his own hurt pride. Why would it have been so horrible if they had, anyways?
Ishida stumbled down the last two rungs and resisted smacking himself. Get a hold of yourself, Uryuu! First Kurosaki, then Urahara...now Renji? He sighed heavily. I really need to get laid, I think...
The thought was so unprovoked that he actually blushed.
"Good morning, Ishida-san."
"Ah! Sado-san... you startled me." Nevermind that it was Sado's room. Ishida cleared his throat. "Sorry I just invaded your room," he apologized with a bow.
"Hey! Why aren't you apologizing to me for invading my bed?" Renji demanded, scowling face appearing over the side of the bed. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a rumpled mess. There were also lines crisscrossing his face from where the pillow -and Ishida's shirt- left impressions.
"You should be apologizing to me for trapping me there," Ishida snapped back. He straightened his clothing and sat to pull his shoes on.
"You are welcome here whenever you want." Chad's announcement was sudden over Renji's grumbling that it made Ishida blush again.
He willed the blood out of his face and put on his best neutral expression. "Thank you."
The big man nodded, seemingly out of words for the morning and gathered his toiletries to take to the shower. Ishida watched him go, not sure how to interpret his unexpected offer.
"You are, ya know."
Ishida paused at the door and looked back up at Renji. He still looked miserable, but his expression seemed calmer, more sober.
"What?"
"Welcome here. Whenever. If you want." He glared for good measure and Ishida summoned up a smile and repressed his laughter.
"Thank you... Abarai-koibito."
Why did I do that? Ishida demanded of himself as he fled the room in time to avoid the pillow aimed for his head. His face was hot with blood and he hurried to the stairs before anyone could notice him and wonder what he was doing rushing out of Chad and Renji's room with his facing looking like a ripe cherry.
It's Urahara. It's all Urahara's fault. He was just teasing me about... Ishida leaned against the wall in the empty stairwell and groaned, slapping a hand over his face. He was half-hard. Over Renji Abarai! I do need to get laid...
I~I~
On the long list of people who Ishida didn't want to see at just that moment, James Daishi was probably number two.
His first thought was to just turn right back around as soon as he saw the blond half-Japanese man leaning on the wall beside his door. However, Daishi saw him before he could complete his roundabout maneuver and he was forced to continue. Plan B was to walk straight past him and slam the door in his face.
"Ishida!"
Plan B was not going to work if he was going to shout. Ishida sighed and came to a weary halt. His right eye was already twitching. In all fairness, the general irritation of the semester combined with the more specific irritations of Kurosaki's stupidity and his irrational arousal to any breathing male on two feet were probably more to blame for his dark glare than Daishi's shy smile.
"Yes, Daishi-san?" He could practically feel the icicles forming on his teeth. If the boy had any common sense, he'd turn tail and run.
Oblivious, Daishi smiled brighter. "I wanted to apologize."
"How did you even know I was back on campus?"
"I...didn't, actually. I've been waiting here for you," the man confessed. He cleared his throat. "Yesterday and today."
Ishida reached up beneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There's no reason you and Kurosaki shouldn't get along. You're like two pees in a pod."
Whereas Ishida's icy tone didn't penetrate, comparing the man to Kurosaki generated a reaction similar to what Ishida would expect from suggesting jumping out of an airplane sans parachute. The incredulous look on his face was almost worth the irritation of seeing him.
"Look, I just wanted to apologize. And I have something for you. Can I come in?"
"Will you go away if I say no?"
Charming smile back in full force, Daishi shook his head. "Probably not."
Ishida sighed and fished his keys out to open the door. "What is it?"
"First, I really am sorry. All of that... well, just all of it. I'm sorry. You can look after yourself and you don't need an almost-stranger butting into your business."
Damn right.
"The other thing... my mother has Marfan Syndrom."
Ishida cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry," he offered finally, unsuccessfully masking his impatience.
"It's a condition that's pretty painful. And it causes her to bruise easily." Daishi was shifting from one foot to the other.
It took Ishida a minute to catch on, but he hastened to reassure the man. "I do not have Marfan Syndrom."
Daishi cocked a smirk. "I guessed that much. But I was thinking about what you said, and all of your... symptoms. I thought... it must be pretty painful for you. What you do have."
Ishida adjusted his glasses and looked away, scrolling through his memory for a suitable non-life threatening condition that could explain his bruising without being too memorable. He wondered briefly if he could make something up, but quickly discarded the idea; Daishi would probably look it up and they would be back to square one with the being-abused-by-Kurosaki scenario. He was considering just telling the man to mind his own goddamned business when a rattle called his attention.
"I guessed you would be the stubborn type of guy that wouldn't want to go to a doctor for a script, so... These are for you." He offered Ishida a conspicuous green prescription bottle.
"... Are these your mother's pain medications?" Ishida asked, dumbfounded.
"She's also the stubborn type and doesn't like to take them. They're a little bit outdated, but they should still be pretty effective – better than nothing anyways, and probably better than something over the counter."
"I can't take these." Ishida held them back out, feeling suddenly guilty even though he hadn't exactlylied about his 'condition.'
"It's alright, really. I told her about you and she gave them to me. Promise! You can even call her if you want and ask. She also gave me these..." He fished into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a handful of folded glossy pamphlets. "Pain management.. support groups, all that."
"...I think this might actually be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," Ishida admitted slowly. Daishi was rapidly dropping down the list of people he didn't want to see. "...thank you."
Daishi smiled. "I just hope it helps. Otherwise, I really will fail econ."
Gratitude dispersed, Ishida glared again.
"I've got to get going, or I'll be late. Just... let me know if you need anything." The man grinned and hurried out of the room before Ishida could generate a suitable retort.
I still think he's gay.
Ishida dropped the pamphlets to his desk and turned the bottle over, musing over the label. The name was blacked out, along with all the important identification information, but the medication name was still clearly visible. Ishida quirked an appreciative eyebrow – Oxycontin was nothing to make light of.
"-Shida!" The door banged open and Kurosaki came through foot first. Ishida winced at the crack of the knob hitting the wall. He glared hotly as Kurosaki stomped into the room and slammed the door behind him. On the long list of people who Ishida didn't want to see, Kurosaki was number one by a massive margin.
If Daishi hadn't been there, Ishida could have gotten dressed and been gone before Kurosaki showed up. He clenched his teeth, took a slow breath through his nose and turned away stiffly to get his clothing.
"What was that guy doing in here?" Kurosaki demanded. He flung the door shut behind him with another resounding crash.
God, what our neighbors must think, Ishida mourned, steadfastly ignoring his roommate. They had things to talk about – namely the fact that Kurosaki was acting like a teenage girl and spreading the rumor that Ishida had been raped – but that would have to wait until Ishida could think clearly and Kurosaki calmed down. His reiatsu was all over the place and Ishida's raw channels were especially sensitive after the weekend with Urahara.
Maybe the Oxycontin wasn't a bad idea after all...
"Ishida!"
"WHY DO YOU CARE?"
"Because! I don't want that guy in my room!" Kurosaki was in a full tantrum. Ishida just wished the Karakura Town "Ichigo Kurosaki is so cool" fan club could see him. Kurosaki would be booted out of his own cult.
"Ishida..." Kurosaki growled. He grabbed Ishida by his good arm, and Ishida should have expected it, but he still had some ridiculous notion that Kurosaki wasn't 'physically demonstrative' and it kept catching him off guard. He hissed at the electric stab and yanked his hand away. The pill bottle went flying and Kurosaki reached up automatically to snatch it out of the air. He peered at it in silence and Ishida could feel his heart thundering against his chest while he waited for Kurosaki to come to natural conclusion.
"What the fuck, Ishida? Is that guy your drug dealer or something?" His eyes narrowed. "What are you paying him with?"
Reiatsu be damned, Ishida smacked the asshole across the face and delivered a solid punch to his gut. Kurosaki was so taken off guard that he doubled over, dropping the bottle.
"You really are a piece of work, Kurosaki! How dare you call me a whore."
"I didn't," Kurosaki pointed out breathlessly.
"Why would you ever think that I would be doing drugs?"
"Then what else are you doing with that?" Kurosaki jabbed a finger at the discarded bottle, half hidden under Ishida's desk.
"It's none of your business." Ishida kept his fists firmly at his side and clenched his jaw. The adrenalin was masking the needling pain of Kurosaki's damn reiatsu and for the time, Ishida felt nothing but rage.
What was I thinking, coming back here?
~I~I~
Ichigo kept one hand over his stomach and straightened up slowly. He couldn't remember Ishida ever being able to hit that well and wasn't sure when the man had gotten better. Maybe it was just because Ichigo was so well tenderized already.
"It is my business," he pressed out. His mind was working on a way to push the clock back. The entire time Ishida was gone, all he could think about was what to say to make it better. Talking out whatever stupid problem they had and starting over. He'd practiced full dialogues until he couldn't keep track of what he was talking about or whose role he was playing. His pillow was still propped up against his chair from his ineffectual attempt to rehearse like he'd seen Yuzu do so many times with her stuffed animals.
"Why, Kurosaki, why is it your business? Why now, all the sudden, after all these years... two solid years of not noticing anything is it suddenly yourbusiness?"
That wasn't in the script. Ichigo hesitated, trying to sort through the question. He could sense that there was a lot more behind it than he was comprehending. But it was like looking at a thousand piece puzzle with only fifty of the pieces and no picture.
"You were right the other night, Kurosaki."
That might have been in the script around 4am when he was going delirious from sleep deprivation...
"This does have to stop. You need to stop getting into my business, stop acting like it has anything to do with you and stop pretending that you have a right to feel guilty."
"I hurt you," Ichigo whispered. He couldn't meet Ishida's eyes.
"You hurt me just by being here," Ishida hissed.
Ichigo winced, feeling the barb pierce deep. "Then tell me how I can fix it!" He knew he was begging, but he hated this crap. Give him something to swing a sword at – trying to decipher anyone's feelings was so far out of his comfort zone that he hardly knew which direction was up.
"I'm so fucking sick of repeating myself! Give me one damn good reason why you care at all and I'll tell you how to fix it."
The snarl in his voice was enough to lift the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck and rile his temper again. "BECAUSE I L-!" love you.
He must have looked as thunderstruck as he felt, because Ishida only rolled his eyes, grabbed a handful of clothing and abandoned the room. Ichigo was left frozen in the middle of the room with his mouth open for a good minute after the door slammed shut.
"Why's he always the one that gets to storm out?" he asked his pillow finally.
Because you're too damn stupid to quit when you're ahead.
It felt like he'd been blindfolded his entire life and was just introduced to the sun. The light was cauterizing and his head felt numb. Sheer self preservation must have the kept the word in his throat. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would have had happened if he just shouted that at the top of his lungs. Half the floor was probably already crowded into the rooms on either side of them, listening eagerly to them fight. Normal humans had too much time on their hands and nothing was more interesting than a little drama.
The green bottle caught his eye and he knelt down and picked it up, peering at the label. Crazy Goat-face started drilling the names, uses and dangers of various medications into his head when Ichigo was seven. He still remembered being ambushed with oxycodonehydrochloride one day the second he got home from school and getting tossed half-way across the living room for not coming up with the answer quickly enough.
"What could you want these for...?" Ichigo wondered stupidly. His face burned; he should have just asked. Ishida might have even told him. What was he thinking? Accusing Ishida of being a drug addict and selling his body in one breath?
Love...?Why did that word...come to me? Ichigo wasn't even sure he knew what it meant. Not that kind of love. He could comprehend love for family – his sisters, even his father. But the kind of love between two... what? Friends? Men? Non-relations?
Why don't we try the word 'jealousy' on for size? his head whispered to him viciously.
He dropped into Ishida's chair with a heavy sigh. His pillow seemed to glare at him reproachfully from across the room and he turned irritably away from it. The light caught on a folded wedge of glossy paper and Ichigo reached out thoughtlessly to smooth the packet out. Ishida kept his space so ridiculously orderly that the man would probably have a aneurism to see anything waded up like that...
COPING WITH CHRONIC PAIN
Ichigo stared stupidly at the pamphlet and the outdated picture of an elderly woman in a wheel chair. The young man behind her was wearing a getup that was probably fashionable thirty years earlier. Ichigo turned the pamphlet over to look at the next.
YOU'RE NOT ALONE; SUPPORT GROUPS FOR CHRONIC PAIN
"You hurt me just by breathing the same air!"
HOLISTIC PAIN MANAGEMENT
"Don't ever touch me."
MODERN PAIN TREATMENT
"Not everyone. Just you."
Little pieces started clicking together; Ishida's expression relaxing when Ichigo was across the room. The way he tensed up any time Ichigo approached. Masked winces. His sometimes violent reactions to being touched. No... not being touched. Being touched by Ichigo.
Now he had too many puzzle pieces, and still no picture to reference. All he was left with was an unrecognizable dark shape slowly taking from in the recesses of his mind. A chill danced down his spine and he was suddenly sure that Ishida's words were literal.
How am I hurting you?
"If you don't get a hold of your damn reiatsu, you're going to start hurting a lot more people than just me!"
For the second time in as many hours, Ichigo was struck witless. He remembered thinking the words were strange then, but he'd been too keyed up to really think about them, and had been thinking about too much since to remember them. That same night, Ishida also said that Ichigo hurt him by breathing. At the time, he'd assumed it was just an insult.
He stared dumbly down at the bottle of pills.
My...reiatsu?