Okay, I'm going to start the next chapter now, regardless... Oh well.
Because, if you didn't review, it means you really don't care about other people as writers, and when they ask you to do something, you should do it, because it is their story you're reading, and they could easily stop at any time. So why not be nice and show that writer some respect? It really won't kill you to type, "I like your story!" and be done.
That would make my day better, but you could care less, couldn't you? Sorry, you'll probably ignore this, so I'll move on for thanking the nice, considerate people who actually reviewed my chapter. You guys rule, really, thanks for that :D
AlAnyway, I sincerely hope you like this chapter, since I am neglecting my studies to write it! We see a new couple this chapter. It's a change from what I originally planned, because, since my last update, I've grown to love this couple. They're my second favorite, now. So sit back, read, and... yeah. :)
She's Like the Moon, an xSilverWingsx fanfic
And I could write a song, a hundred miles long... yeah, that's where I belong—and you belong with me.
As the next song began, neither noticed.
Sometimes, when things happened, all you could do was look. This was how Rukia felt—she was just looking at things. At the ceiling, at the floor, at the table. She tried as hard as she could to avoid the burning pair of amber eyes, like they were the core, and she wanted so badly to stay on the rim.
Ichigo looked down, ashamed. Maybe that had been a mistake, and he had gotten caught up in the moment... and then his emotions had gotten out. With this realization, the orange-haired man swallowed autonomously. His hands were still on Rukia's shoulders. But she wasn't saying anything about it, so was it okay? He sure hoped so. With every passing moment, his heart beat a little faster, as he kept remembering what he had just done. He had kissed Rukia Kuchiki. It was like, in his mind, everything around Rukia was a little numb. Even she herself, a bit. His head kept spinning, and he was afraid it would veer off-course.
The air in her lungs was still nonexistent, even a minute later. This irked her greatly. Usually, Rukia got over Ichigo's actions within a few seconds. But this only seemed to get harder as time went on. She exhaled and found the breath ragged.
"Sorry," Ichigo muttered, his face red and furrowed. "If you didn't want me—"
"Of course I wanted you to, stupid. I'm just mad anyway." She closed her eyes and arced her neck upward in a motion of contempt, and he scoffed a little.
"So you're pissed because you wanted me to do something?"
"Yes. That's precisely what I'm getting at." She was lapsing into Byakuya-speech, as she did when she was flustered, because it usually helped her calm down. As much as her father annoyed her, he was a good pacifier in panicked moments. "I'm not going to try and explain it to you, Ichigo, because all you'll do is dissect it to the bone, and I'll be even more upset."
Ichigo sighed without opening his mouth, it seemed. "I know that, Rukia. Just don't act like I did something dumb."
"It wasn't dumb. It was a good coda to the song." Rukia swallowed.
"The song? Seriously.
She puckered her lips in defiance. "It was a joke, you uptight orange." In moments like these, Rukia usually came armed with a million little sarcastic quips to use whenever she saw fit. Now they were gone. "I... well, you know."
"I know what?"
"Be quiet." She flushed. "I have nothing to say."
Ichigo's eyes fell to his feet. "Me either."
The air seemed to get warmer now, as did Rukia's entire body. She wished something would get her back to her element, to being comfortable with Ichigo, as she'd used to be. She'd always wondered what kissing him was like, and she hadn't been disappointed... but it did scare her. Rukia didn't like being scared.
She didn't want to ruin things with Ichigo, and the very notion left her looking upon a barren life, as if she were having an out-of-body experience. She was pale, stalwart, and married to a faceless man, with whom she had many faceless children. Blank. They needed faces. Every last one of them.
As she tried to wheedle through those emotions, Toshiro skulked past her, quite alone, his hands in his pockets. David Usher's 'Brilliant' started, and she looked at Ichigo, a frown creasing her features.
"Do what you want," he said, face still red.
She took note that his hands were trembling on her shoulders, and thoughts of her cousin were swept from her mind. "Ichigo, you look sweaty."
He blinked in rapid succession, and swallowed, his Adam's apple quivery. "N-No, I'm okay, Kuchiki. It's just hot in here, is all. Hot." Then, his fingers were firm on her shoulders, but not in a controlling way. It was more like he was holding on for dear life.
"Jeez, Ichigo, don't have a conniption. If you're, like, upset by kissing me—"
He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Rukia. I thought we already established that I wasn't upset."
Rukia arched a raven brow, feeling a smirk pull at her lips. "We never established anything of the sort. What are you saying, Ichigo? Are you saying that you liked it?"
His face, she could tell, was aflame. "No! No way! Don't you ever talk like that! No way, no way. You're a—a midget!" he hastily pulled his hands away and put them in his pockets, eyes darting around the room for something else to focus on.
Rukia couldn't help but smile on the inside, but for now, she didn't want to go in on the subject any more. Toshiro was up to something, she knew, and Hisana—well, more likely Byakuya—would kill her if he dabbled in any unflattering shenanigans. Or, that's how her dad would put it.
She pondered. Toshiro was one for drugs, but he would do those in her presence, and not think twice. He had seemed pretty drunk, clomping past her like that. He was probably going to bed, she thought. That was probable.
Placebo's 'Drag' blasted across her brain, and Rukia was sweating again. Weighing her options, she decided that Toshiro could fend for himself.
You're always ahead of the game... while I drag behind...
"Ichigo."
He was standing by the punch table, sweat dripping down his neck. "Yeah?"
She tapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go back to the dorm, I'm tired." The idea appealed to her, the thought of her nice, warm bed... mm.
Ichigo looked relieved. "Yeah. I feel like passing out."
You are the only thing that's ever crossed my mind ; I ask why, can't you even look straight into my eyes?
Orihime tried to hold in her shivers as she sat outside, trying to escape the colors and noise of the inside. She had been okay for the first half an hour or so, but overstimulation had come quickly. She had looked desperately for a bathroom or something, but they were all upstairs.
"Orihime," said a voice. It was Tatsuki, wearing an impish smile.
Orihime smiled, unable to help herself. "Hi, Tatsuki. Are you having fun?"
The dark haired girl grinned. "Yeah, I met this guy... well, you really don't know him, so..."
She knew that this was an invitation to hear all about it. "Oh, I want to, tell me!"
"His name's Grimmjow, he's a sophomore. He rocks like hell, I've been having a lot of fun." Her best friend wore a grin that would rival a wild cat's, and the redhead was glad of it. Tatsuki continued, "He played a prank on some of us freshmen. Just stay away from the punch bowl."
Shocked, Orihime's mouth fell open. "Toshiro got sick! Grimmjow doesn't sound like a very nice person to me, Tatsuki. He poisoned them!"
"It was just a little scotch, and it was a joke," Tatsuki shrugged it off. "Besides, Grimmjow wouldn't do it if it would really hurt them. He just likes to joke, is all."
Orihime bit her lip. It was best not to argue with Tatsuki, especially when it came to a boy. Rukia had found that out the hard way. "So, well, have you seen Ichigo and Rukia?"
"I did for a little while. You should've seen the way they were looking at each other. There was major eye sex going on there."
The taller girl almost spit out her cola. "E-eye what?!"
Tatsuki smirked. "You know. Eye sex. Where you stare at someone, long and hard. And you've gotta want them." She fiddled with the olive in her cup.
"Do you think Ichigo and Rukia have had sex?" Orihime whispered, the word feeling alien on her tongue. She never talked about it. Sex, she had been told by most adults, was wrong, unless you were doing it to have a baby, of course. She wondered about it a lot.
Tatsuki shook her head. "Nah, Rukia wouldn't let him. Not unless they were really, really—"
"No, stop, I don't want to hear it!" she clamped her hands over her ears autonomously, trying to block out the image in her head. A voice, blithe and at ease, repeated the sentence, and a face matched it quickly. "You sound like Rukia's sister."
"Akamori? Please. That girl's gotten so much, I don't even wanna know what she thinks about."
Orihime tapped her feet on the floor, her white dress fluttering around her ankles. All everyone talked about around her was sex. Even Rukia mentioned it! She wondered if Rukia was a virgin. ...Was she? There was Ichigo, of course. He was so powerfully built... and he had a very well-defined face... he would be hard to resist if... Orihime went pink, trying to rid herself of these thoughts. She knew Rukia felt something for Ichigo—it was in her eyes. They sort of... glinted, faintly, when Ichigo was mentioned, as if he were the second half. Rukia had always said she felt like a half person. And that couldn't be jeopardized.
Tatsuki made a noise in the back of her throat.
"You okay, Tatsuki?" Orihime asked.
"Look to your left," Tatsuki muttered. "Some guy's staring at you."
She stayed still for a moment, a rush of childhood memories stampeding through her head. Sora had always kept her away from the lustful eyes of men, stood as a barrier between his sister and all things sexual. Now, he wasn't here.
But there was nothing wrong with a boy staring. It happened to her all the time, and truth be told it was a little unsettling, but one could get used to anything. Even those odd peanut-butter-and-cream-cheese sandwiches Rukia seemed to have a penchant for. Men were easy—just smile nicely, and look away. A brief thought came to her—what boy had she seen here who hadn't already taken an interest? She didn't want a boyfriend, that was for sure, but they were ready should she ever change her mind. Which I won't. I won't, she kept reminding herself.
Her neck feeling oddly limber, Orihime turned her head, the polite smile already etched into her lips. But it gave way to a slack shape.
The boy staring at her was unlike any she'd ever seen. He was slight in stature, thin and vitriolic, with an austere winter face. To look at him was to be bitten in the brain, she thought. And his eyes were as cold, emotionless, with catlike pupils, a shade of green that was halfway between an emerald and the sea. From the heavily lidded eyes seemed to spill tears, but they were far too artificial—like tattoos, but somehow, she couldn't see them that way. His mouth was small, in a lifeless deadpan, like the rest of him. He sat staunchly in a chair near the other door, in a black suit, looking at her with that same no-nonsense gaze. There were no feelings. Orihime forgot about Tatsuki next to her and tried to imagine what this face would look like smiling, laughing. It would not compute.
Tatsuki was rigid, too—she could see her in her peripheral vision—also amazed by the aesthetic graveness of this boy. His eyes did not sway once from Orihime, the stones, like those of a marionette's.
"Whoa, that kid is really... emo," Tatsuki said after a few minutes.
A strange desire to protect the boy sprung up within her. "I—Tatsuki, you shouldn't make labels like that."
"It's not a label, it's the truth. He's just... creepy looking."
Orihime looked back at him, and then, very slowly, he turned away, closing his eyes as he did so. It was painful, she remembered, to see him, but now, she was getting used to it... a little. He scared her, really.
But it was odd. Like, somehow, deep in his eyes, there was a hint of sadness. She had always been good at deciphering peoples' emotions, and even though she could see that he was suffering, she remained completely obtuse as to why. "He won't be happy if he hears you talking like that," she said, surprised to find her voice a murmur.
Tatsuki raised an eyebrow. "He can't hear us from over there."
"Us? You're the one who's calling him creepy." Orihime didn't mean to put Tatsuki on the spot; it was a mere fact. "Just because he can't hear you—"
"Oh, I see what it is." Tatsuki grinned. "You know that kid. You like him."
"I don't know him." Orihime glanced again at the boy, but his eyes were on the horizon. "If I did, I would've said hi." And I... don't like him. I don't really like anyone... other than...
"Then you've got more guts than me. I wouldn't go near him at all." And, coming from the second-strongest girl in all of Japan, that was saying something. "You've always been that way, Orihime. I think you're too nice for your own good."
Orihime felt her teeth come down on her bottom lip. This boy, here... to him, I don't think nice matters...
Sometimes goodbye's a second chance.
Rukia's navy eyes came open when she heard the shower running in the bathroom, which was surprising, because it usually took a lot to wake her. She yawned a little, then smiled as she remembered what had happened the previous day. Ichigo had kissed her. The words sounded so alien, but in a good way, and when Rukia got out of bed, there was a new spring in her step.
She shuffled to the kitchen and opened the fridge, but found nothing save for a few packs of ramen noodles, since she and Ichigo rarely ate dinner here anyway. He usually picked up fast food. The short girl decided that she would wait until she got home to eat—knowing Hisana, there would be a plethora of good food. Rukia poured herself a glass of water and sat down on the sofa.
Ichigo came out of the bathroom, accompanied by a rush of steam. He wore a pair of loose black sweatpants and a white tank top.
"Hey," he said affably, hanging onto the towel around his shoulders. "How'd you sleep?"
Rukia smiled. "Fine."
Ichigo stood there for a moment, looking blank and focused on her. "...Well, that's good." He made his way into the kitchen and then stopped. "Merry Christmas," he said.
She blinked. "Oh, right. Merry Christmas, Ichigo." As the words escaped her mouth she thought of the night before, and what had happened before he had said it. It brought a smile to her face. "So, you're going home today too?"
"Yeah. Yuzu and Karin miss me." Apparently he had given up on food too, since he had sat down next to her. "And your mom and dad? They miss you?"
"That's a weird question."
"Just answer."
"I don't kn—yeah, I'm sure they do," she said, trying to think of any reason why Hisana and Byakuya would miss her. She was the child who was just there, the one who wasn't really singled out. But that was only because Akamori wanted the attention, and the Kuchiki family always got what they wanted. "But I'm glad I... well, never mind."
She went red.
Ichigo was, as always, persistent. "You're glad...?"
"Well, I was making an assumption, but that doesn't really work out well for me, so I'll be quiet now," she stammered, focusing on the TV screen. It was blank. "Yeah."
"Nah, Midget. Tell me what it is you were thinking." Ichigo's teak eyes were large and curious.
She sighed. "I was hoping that I could... well, I was thinking that we could run into each other, maybe, just over break?" she tried, realizing how idiotic those last few words were after she had said them.
Ichigo's lip twitched like he was going to smile, but he preferred to stay aloof. "Sure. We could do that."
"Like maybe a movie?"
Rukia knew that she was pushing her luck with this. But he was Ichigo. There was no reason he would say no.
And he didn't. "Sure. Do you know what's playing?"
She remembered something. "I think the movie theater is closed over break. And I have to have Christmas dinner with my parents and Toshiro—" she broke off as she remembered the sprightly young man, a slight shiver running down her spine.
"Well, after you do that..." Ichigo looked like he was trying to put words together as well as he could. "I mean, if you're not too busy with all your fancy presents—I mean, if your—you could come hang out at my place. My dad loves you." He rolled his eyes as he said it, but there was no denying the smile.
The idea of spending time at Ichigo's house filled her with warm, fuzzy bubbles. She hadn't spent time there, really, since his birthday party in July. She remembered, then, that she had made up with Tatsuki, and it made her even happier. "Okay. I'll come over. If I can keep up the whole 'Ichigo's a Girl' thing."
"Frankly, Rukia, I just think you should tell Kuchiki that I've got more between my legs than he thinks and then we can be done with the matter."
Rukia burst out laughing, but covered her mouth with her hand in an instant. Ichigo looked a little surprised but grinned, and she found herself in the middle of an awkward moment. Luckily, she thought of something. "Where would I sleep at your house?"
Ichigo thought it over. "Um... well, I've got futons in my closet."
"So I take them out?"
He smirked. "No, you can sleep in the closet."
"Ichigo, that's not right!" she exclaimed. "Why on earth would you—"
"'Cause it's the only way you can be in my room without being... you know. Never mind," he said, shaking his head fervently. "Besides, what's wrong with the closet? You've survived the Murphy bed just fine."
Rukia scoffed. "Oh, come on. I can not be expected to sleep in that closet!"
"You've never seen it," he contradicted.
"I know closets, Ichigo. They're not comfortable."
"Like hell. Mine, on its own, is a 2-star hotel."
"Oh, amazing, Ichigo." She stretched out on the couch, too short to even touch Ichigo, who was also sprawled out. Rukia curled her arm up behind her head, thinking over the break. She was really, really anxious to get it over with, and to restore a sense of normalcy to her high school tenure. To kiss Ichigo, and then leave school—too many changes at once.
Ichigo touched his foot to hers. "Wondering what I got you for Christmas?"
The touch made an involuntary smile creep up. She united her other foot to his, and sighed. "I wasn't really thinking about it."
His big toe tickled hers, something may or may not have been aware of. "It's pretty easy to figure out. Kinda cheesy, but you'll get over it, you always do." Ichigo yawned. "I was wondering why you hadn't asked me yet."
"Presents don't really matter to me. All I want is for people to stop being so stupid."
She ran her tongue over her chapped lips, feeling all the little sores open up.
Ichigo smiled a little. "That'll cost me at least 35.64."
She rolled her eyes and ran her big toe along the bottom of his foot. It was so rare that she ever got to touch Ichigo, and when she did, it was as if her fingers and toes were spirited away, and there was an almost irresistible urge to touch him again. Most of the time, he shook her hand off his shoulder, or started talking about something else.
Now, though, Ichigo made no move to dismiss her. His eyes were halcyon, on her, a spark of curiosity noticeable behind the contentment. Rukia touched his foot with her hand, blushing slightly, but his breath was bated as he sat, motionless.
Rukia ran her fingers across his toes, thinking about him. At this point... he wanted to be touched like this, by her. The kiss had made it evident, and though it pleased her, she wondered if it would hurt their friendship. But Orihime and Tatsuki hugged her all the time. What was wrong with touching Ichigo?
When she met his eyes, they were already on hers, alight with happiness. It was something she hardly ever saw, this impish face, the lucid smile, with a faint dimple in his right cheek. She felt her cheeks blazing, but it was oddly gratifying to her now. As if it were the verification that this made her feel good. Ichigo... what have you done to me?
The orange haired man sighed, but for once, didn't say anything. She knew that he was glad of the soft touching, too, and didn't want to ruin it with any of their useless bickering.
She moved her finger over all the little grooves, realizing that when she was alone with him, Ichigo wasn't nearly as aggressive—very calm and good-spirited, especially in moments where they were quiet—this was one of the few times. It was a bit odd to touch his foot, she thought, but anywhere was fine. Just as long as she could feel his skin, sun-darkened and unique, she would be fine with it. Other people—Akamori, her mother, Toshiro—cringed at her touch. There was no one else who would let her that close—and it had taken a long time for him to let her.
Ichigo moved slightly, and she saw his finger on her own. Rukia's vacant chest awoke, giving way to a paroxysm of surprise as he turned her hand over, gazing at her palm with humid brown eyes. No matter how much she stared at him, Rukia couldn't shake his eyes from her. She guessed that Ichigo never got to touch people, either, and she knew that she must have interested him on a foreign level—a small, pale girl, with delicate hands.
He was caressing these hands, tracing each crease on her palm intricately, as if trying to burn the image into his mind. She found that he never looked at things for very long, but something about her hand seemed to fascinate him. Ichigo craned his neck, apparently for a closer look, and their heads touched. Rukia was again engulfed in Ichigo's familiar scent, the one she'd strained herself for many times. And, she had always imagined his hair as hard, since it was spiky. But no, it was soft.
His fingers were long and thin, but more graceful than the rest of him. He was breathing slowly, sparingly, as he investigated each of her fingers, looking enthralled by them. This made Rukia blush, but he didn't notice that part. Ichigo had always been a man of one-track focus.
With that, his hand moved up a little, toward her face... and he actually blushed, ready to put it down. Too frozen to move, Rukia was silently willing him to touch her face, her body running rampant with heat. He didn't disappoint her, the long fingers trembling.
Ichigo knew what he wanted to do. Rukia had told him that she had liked kissing him—well, not in so many words. But she had. And that had fueled a strange fire within him, tepid and lustful. He should not have let it get its way. He couldn't—didn't—think of Rukia the way his senses had fooled him into thinking he had. I don't, he had been telling himself, so many times over the past few hours, ever since Rukia had told him that she was going home for the break. And something in him, a separate fire, had sprung. The one that wanted to protect Rukia from the other fire...
This close, his eyes were beautiful. Rukia felt his breath on her neck, dizzying and scary at the same time, and she moved closer, into the hand that held her cheek. Not for a kiss. To be close. She had found that Ichigo was the only person that she... that she liked very much.
They both jumped noticeably when Ichigo's phone blared across the silent room. His fingers slid away, and he got up, grabbing the phone from the table near the door. "Hello?"
Rukia sighed, yearning again for his touch. She was resentful of the phone.
"Yeah, Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kuchiki."
She froze. Mom? You called... you called Ichigo? Why not me? ...It wasn't really that she felt jealous. Of course her mother would want to wish Ichigo a merry Christmas, since she would get to see her later. She simply worried about Byakuya, who was certainly in the room with his wife, and could hear her talking to Ichigo. Ichigo kept saying 'yeah', and, 'that's always good', and other generic things one said when they didn't really know the person on the other end.
He blinked about six times, taken aback by something she'd said. "I—well, do—as long as Rukia—yeah. He's my cousin." Ichigo hesitated, undoubtedly listening to Hisana prattle on about how good it was to have family nearby. "Mhm, I... probably... I'd have to ask my dad fir—you already talked to—wow." He looked at Rukia, eyebrows raised, an amused smile playing across his lips. "Okay. Thank you. I'll see you then." He nodded once, though she could not see him, and closed the phone.
Rukia wore a poker face. "What has she come up with now?"
Ichigo half-smiled, half-bit his lip. "She wants me over to eat Christmas dinner with you guys tonight."
"You're a comic genius..." she said tartly, the sarcasm veering off toward shock. Her mother had actually been so bold as to invite Ichigo to the Kuchiki Mansion... where... Byakuya! "There's no damn way you're going!"
He raised his eyebrows. "You gonna stop me?"
Rukia narrowed her eyes and got to her feet. "Of course I am! My dad—" she winced as she said the words. "My dad—"
"Is an asshole?"
"No! He... he wouldn't like you!"
As this sentence sunk in through the room, Rukia felt stupid, ugly, and very, very mean. She felt her chest lock up, and her mouth numb. Ichigo was silent, his eyes vacant, cast to the floor.
"...I know," he said.
She remembered the words her father had said to her a few months before Chihiro's birth. Akamori is no longer a part of my life... not since she deceived me that way.
She looked at him with no particular inflection. "No. It was..." in truth, she couldn't remember whose idea it was. "All I know is.. you can't come tonight."
His face was also emotionless. "Why can't I?"
"Because. You know how things turned out with Akamori and Renji."
"They're fine, just in case you're forgetting." Usually, Ichigo would sigh and say something about what a midget she was, or that short people withheld a different sense of logic, or something else to throw her off the trail. Now, he was straight and to-the-point.
"I don't want to risk it."
"Risk what? If your dad hasn't learned from what he did before, he's even more of a jackass than I thought he was. Wouldn't really surprise me, but hey." He dropped the cell phone into his pocket.
Physically, he wanted more. Emotionally, things stayed the same. Rukia could not deny that this appealed to her; by coincidence or by design, she wanted the same things he did.
She was a teenager. There was no denying that there were three things teenagers really wanted: food, sleep, and sex. Rukia was no exception to this rule. But she had only just kissed Ichigo. She was confused as to why she wanted so much so fast, but at the same time, she had been anticipating this, on some deep level, the physical yearning. Ichigo was attractive—and she was, too, a little.
Wait, what?
As she had many times before, Rukia dismissed the tempting notions and tried to focus on the conversation. She did not know the words until they came forth. "If you want to go tonight, I won't stop you. But you had better keep away from me in front of Byakuya."
Ichigo's face remained somber. "I can't do anything now without you getting all worked up."
"It's always been that way."
"Never like this."
Those were the words that had been haunting her lately. 'Never like this'. That was the way it was with them—always changing, but always the same. It confused her. "Well, Ichigo, I hope... I hope you have fun at my house tonight. My mom will probably be all over you with the camera, so try and stay away from her. And my dad, he'll inspect you the whole time. Renji and Akamori will make weird sex jokes about us, so steer clear of them, and—well, I guess since Toshiro's a dick, Chihiro would be your best bet."
Relief made its way across his visage. "You're letting me go, then."
"I guess."
Ichigo's eyes were oddly calm. "Rukia, hey," he said. "You look like you're gonna have a hysterical fit or something."
"I—listen, Ichigo..." she looked in the direction of the door. "Do you wanna go downstairs? For breakfast?"
He looked upset for a moment – he had known very well that she didn't want to eat, but whatever made Rukia happy.. The dimple in his cheek resurfaced. "Yeah."
Yeah, we only want to fly by the side, making love to the rhythm, be a Jekyll and a Hyde.
Fluorescent lights always annoyed Rukia early in the morning. She had put on the Christmas dress her mother had bought her—red velvet, with white pantyhose and the dreaded black heels. If she didn't wear the outfit, it would hurt Hisana's feelings. Akamori had an identical one, but she had never once worn it. Rukia intended to be on her best behavior tonight—if not for herself, for Ichigo. It was a stretch for her to even let him come to dinner—her father was extremely likely to blow a gasket.
In the lunch line, she saw Orihime and Tatsuki. Oddly, the dark-haired girl was more talkative, saying something about blue hair, and how hot it was. Orihime just kept nodding, putting a milk carton on her plate. Their faces were freshly wiped clean of all the cakey makeup most of the girls had worn the previous night. Rukia was glad to be free of it, too.
She looked around for a table, and spotted Toshiro, gazing down at a book, in his tuxedo. For once, he didn't look upset.
"Hey," she said, sliding in across the table from him. Ichigo followed suit. "Merry Christmas."
Toshiro looked up at her, unperturbed. "Merry Christmas, Kuchiki. Kurosaki." He nodded at them both in turn.
"What are you reading?" Rukia asked, interested in the calm Toshiro.
"Judgment at Nuremberg. It's better than I expected." He wet his finger and turned the page. Not looking up, he said, "Have fun at the dance?" he didn't seem all that interested, but the normal Toshiro wouldn't even have asked her. Rukia hastened.
"Of course we did. Are you still coming to eat with us today?"
"Yes, I am. I won't be with you over the rest of the break, I'm afraid. I have plans." The white-haired young man closed his book lightly and tore open his milk carton, downing it in a few seconds. With a thump, he put it down. "Senna, Izuru, Momo and I are going to the beach house."
Vaguely, Rukia remembered that Ryuusuke Hitsugaya owned a villa on the beach. Since he was in prison, and Hiroko was dead, it made a lot of sense for it to have come under Toshiro's ownership. Still, she felt a bit snubbed. Toshiro had always spent the holidays with the Kuchiki family. She smiled wryly. "That's good. I hope you have fun there."
"I plan on it."
Without warning, Senna sat down, wearing a blue dress. "Hi, Toshi," she said merrily.
Toshiro smiled mistily, as if there were some secret they shared. "Good morning, Senna." He pushed his book aside. "You know Rukia and Ichigo."
"Hey Senna," Ichigo said, chowing down on cereal.
"Hi, Ichigo. Hi, Rukia." The violet-haired girl was eating a banana. "Happy holidays, and stuff. You guys look a little shocked."
Rukia looked at Ichigo, who was eating as if it were his last meal, and realized that Senna was referring exclusively to her. "M-me? Why would I?"
Senna shrugged. "I don't know. You just look surprised by something." She bit into a turnover that Ichigo seemed oddly enamored with.
"Where did you get that?" he asked incredulously, his amber eyes tightening.
Rukia sighed, glad that he was back to his normal self. It was Toshiro who was acting strange. She appraised the snowy-haired man, and could find no visible brain damage. There must have been something wired wrong in his tiny little head of evil.
"So I had an idea," Toshiro said.
"Oh, call the New York times." Ichigo started on Rukia's breakfast.
"Excuse me, Kurosaki. Let me just sit around and become gargantuan, so I'll be prepared to have a level conversation with you."
"Oh, cute." Ichigo shoved the milk back to its spot on the tray. "Fine. I won't eat. But, I'm going to have a better dinner than you are."
Rukia didn't feel as if Ichigo was trying to flatter her. He just argued a lot. She said quietly, "Ichigo, don't be impudent. Toshiro isn't mad for once. Let's not ruin that."
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at the white-haired boy, who was talking to Senna about his book, but looked grudgingly at Rukia's milk carton and sighed. "All right, fine. It's just that holidays annoy me, you know?"
"I know. But you were the one who wanted to come over today."
"Renji and Akamori going to be there?"
She blinked. "I think they are, if they know what day it is... you look relieved," she speculated, noting that some of the tension in his features had alleviated. "I'll be happy if they're there, too." Because Renji and Akamori knew how to take stress out of a situation and center it on themselves, whether it be by bickering or acting like idiots.
The breakfast bell rang. Ichigo slid Rukia's tray under his own and took them up to the trash cans, and sure enough, she was waiting at the stairwell for him. Before he had known Rukia, Ichigo had walked places by himself, or with Keigo and his lackeys. The Midget was just more comfortable.
They ran into Orihime and Tatsuki again in the main lobby. "Hey, Rukia," Tatsuki said, as nonchalant as before, but for some reason she ignored the orange haired man beside her friend. Puzzled, Ichigo greeted her, and she returned the favor with little enthusiasm. Rukia couldn't think with much ease right now—she just wanted to get in the car and go home.
She knew Ichigo hadn't acquired mind-reading powers, but he was very perceptive that morning. He hadn't said a word the entire time they'd been upstairs gathering their bags, and she was glad of it. Rukia wasn't really one for mood swings, but there was an exception to every rule, and even though it had to be on the holidays, she was glad of the silence.
Ichigo wasn't on the same page, though. His ability to sense her emotions had been a stint. "Have any idea about your present?"
"No, I haven't thought about it. Shut up."
One eye puckered, like a twitch, but he was too startled for that. "Jeez, Rukia. What's going on with you?"
"It's nothing. I mean that." The drumming of her fingers on the door handle was rhythmic, without fail. "I just want to get home. You can call me later."
He stared at her. "Don't blow me off. It's Christmas."
The notion appalled her a little. "I'm not blowing you off. Really, Ichigo. I just... well, I'm a teenage girl. These things are normal for me."
"What things?"
'You aren't that oblivious."
"Try me." His eyes tightened up the smallest amount.
"I'd rather not." Rukia felt anguish building up in her chest. It was the strangest sensation, but she felt...
They were quiet as they drove through town, the familiar colors of the buildings rushing past her. They only made the feeling worse, and she coined it after about fifteen minutes. The security-blanket. Being clingy. Rukia propped her head in her hand and tried for the umpteenth time to calm herself. The car itself felt sweltering to her, despite the fifteen degree weather, and her head was pounding. She felt her throat constrict.
But there was nothing. No sudden bout of vomit, no chills... nothing. Rukia frowned but was grateful to the skies above that she wasn't sick. ...Just mean? No, not mean. Sort of... affected by something unknown. She bit her lip and, feeling her teeth brush across blisters, shoved them under her bottom lip. "I'm sorry I've been so insensitive."
Ichigo's face didn't change. "It's okay, I figured it out," he said with a sigh. "I guess I forgot you were a girl for a minute."
She felt her temple pulsate faintly. "Ichigo, don't push me," Rukia warned, her panic easing slowly into relief. If things were all right with Ichigo... well, he never really stayed mad at her for long.
Her stomach fluttered as the huge houses of Shimomura Estates came into view. They were all somewhat similar, like cookie-cutter mansions, she realized. But her muted gray house appeared, looming behind the iron fence emblazoned "K", and she swallowed. "Well, uh, what time did my mom tell you to...?"
"Seven, she said. This is good. At my house, we eat at five." He seemed haughty about the prospect of eating two Christmas feasts, and she couldn't really blame him for it. If Hisana was good at anything, it was cooking. "I'll be back," he said.
She felt a flare pang across her chest at the thought of being away from Ichigo, her - best friend - and nodded as tritely as she could. "That's good. Make sure you look nice. If we're going to break your gender to my father, you might as well."
Ichigo made to frown, but stopped himself. "All right, fine."
"You're in a good mood today," she speculated, opening the car door. "I'll see you later." Seeing him pull away, as she stood vacantly in the driveway, made Rukia feel like she was spiraling over some invisible spring.
When she saw her house, though, adorned with many wreaths and ropes of tinsel, she felt her homesickness - a feeling that had been weighing her subconscious ever since August - seemed to collapse into a small beacon of relief. Ichigo, she knew, would be impressed with this house. Everyone was. Well, I really do sound like Byakuya sometimes, she thought as she made her way up the stone steps.
Before she could even reach for the handle, the door swung open and she was pulled into the arms of someone much taller than herself. "Merry Christmas, kid!"
Rukia smiled autonomously. "Merry Christmas, Akamori..." her sister apparently sensed that she was crushing Rukia, because she released her. The older Kuchiki child wore a red sweater and black pants, as well as high heels that only added to her height. Rukia gasped, for all of her sister's curly black hair had been cut to her shoulders.
Akamori tugged at the ends of her hair incredulously. "Do you like it? It's... weird, but Renji was the one who said I should cut it."
"Oh, yeah. Because Renji's the poster child for short hair."
Akamori gave a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, he is the poster child for hypocrisy, if anything. He and Mini-Dad are inside. Mom went to the store for cake. You know how she forgets to buy stuff." Her dark brown eyes wandered across the frost-crusted lawn, stopping and contracting. "...Is that Ichigo?"
At the name, Rukia's chest locked a little. She had only just seen him a minute ago, too... still facing Akamori, she said, "Yeah. He dropped me off."
Her sister nodded and looked back at her, her eyes blank. "I guess it's a good thing Dad got called back into work for the break."
The words met Rukia with mixed reactions of relief and disdain. Since her father had reconciled with Akamori, she had been eager to see him, but then she had been deeply anxious about Ichigo. "Why isn't Renji there?"
"They only wanted the top executives. Something about a stock problem." Her sister's eyes were glazed over with abandon, as if the holidays meant less to her now. "So," she said, her tone taking a more fluid turn, "Have fun at the dance?"
Rukia felt herself smile faintly. "Yeah, it was... pretty good."
"Hitsugaya said he spotted you and Ichigo making out."
"W-we weren—it wasn't 'making out!' It was a little kiss!" Rukia did not know the words until they had come forth, and when they did, she covered her mouth, heat curling through her face. She swallowed and said, "You know Toshiro. He's precocious, but he likes to twist things to make other people look bad." In insulting her cousin, Rukia felt her own embarrassment fade. That was wrong, but it was helpful.
A smirk pulled at her sister's lips. "I wasn't saying it was bad. Hell, Renji and I were wondering when you two would get going."
"We aren't going... Toshiro's a liar, anyway..." she knit her brows.
"Speaking of which, when's he getting here?"
"I think he took the train."
Akamori slid her hands in her pockets. "I'm glad. That way we can go an hour or two without being drilled for the most idiotic shit."
Rukia nodded absentmindedly, her senses wavering off again toward Ichigo, surfacing a warm current under her skin. "Anyway," she said, noticeably more calm now, "How far along are you?"
Akamori didn't seem at all surprised by the question. "I'd say a month. Give or take a day or two."
"Okay..." Rukia didn't quite know what to say, so she turned for the door. "Let's go inside."
Now, now, baby, it's just textbook stuff,
it's in the ABC of growing up.
Mercifully, Renji didn't seem to know about what had happened between Rukia and Ichigo at the dance. His sister-in-law—or, not, technically—was very glad of this. Mostly, though, she was just happy to be home.
Her house smelled different. With the absence of children, it was much cleaner, and emptier. This upset her a bit—with Byakuya working, Hisana must have been by herself a lot. Not much to do but clean. Her own room, though, was in the exact same state in which she'd left it—a pigsty.
Renji had cut his hair off, as well—now, it was around the same length as Ichigo's. Rukia was shocked—to imagine Renji with short hair would be like imagining cake without frosting. There was no point. But he had said it was much easier to deal with, and Akamori had steadfastly agreed.
Chihiro had truly grown to Byakuya's likeness. Her red hair had fallen out to make way for small tufts of black, and her jaw was becoming more pronounced. Renji didn't appear upset at all about their lack of resemblance—he carried the child around like an oxygen tank. Akamori herself sat back and watched while Rukia paced the house, looking at things to see if they had changed. Hisana's closet was full of maternity clothing—which boggled her again. She kept forgetting that her mother was in fact pregnant, and nine months at that.
Toshiro arrived about fifteen minutes after she did, in his overlarge tuxedo, carrying a bag of presents. He looked like a tiny, grumpy, beardless Santa, there to deliver his bounty. When Rukia told him so, he said, "You're lucky it's Christmas, Kuchiki."
Rukia sat down on her bed and unpacked a few sets of clothes. She wondered if she would stay here the whole break... her heart jumped when she figured out that since Byakuya was at work, she could go to Ichigo's! But that might not work with her mother, either. Spending a night with the opposite sex was risky business with mothers. Still, Rukia smiled and tried to hope for the best.
Ichigo was, she knew, always on her mind. Best friends... that happened a lot, right? Certainly not all the time... but... then there was that kiss... it had meant nothing. Hell. Who was she kidding? She'd seen Ichigo's face, and how nervous he'd been for the rest of the evening. It hadn't meant 'nothing'. It had meant everything.
When she saw her sister and Renji, watching television and not even touching each other, she got a little worried. A romance like theirs... had faded before a few months had gone by. They had gotten used to each other, gotten over the initial... euphoria of being with each other. It hurt to see them. What if she asked Ichigo out, and he said yes, and then... they drifted?
Renji's tattooed eyebrows rose. "Rukia, you okay?"
"Never better," she chirped, quickly going back into the kitchen. She couldn't allow herself to think of Ichigo again. At least... not for the rest of the day.
That would be good. She'd return to being obsessive the next day, and then everything... would be fine.
Hisana came through the door about a half an hour later, juggling bags. "Merry Christmas," she said softly. Sensing that something was wrong, Rukia took some of the bags and began to unload the groceries, noticing a lot of things one might find at a feast. She almost dropped the whipped cream when she saw how hugely pregnant her mother was. Some of the extra pudge that had been on her body was now gone, apparently to accommodate the baby inside. "How was your semester?"
"Oh, fine." Rukia smiled a little bit. "How was life here?"
Hisana poured herself a glass of water, her face blank. "It's been fine, you know. Your father worked, and I was here."
That was what Rukia had feared. Her mother, though she was pregnant, was temporarily living in an empty nest. "I'm happy you two are okay. Renji and Akamori cut their hair."
"They showed me already," Hisana said inconsequentially, looking at a suddenly-there Toshiro. "How was your semester?" her voice had a dry, lifeless quality to it.
To Rukia's intense surprise, Toshiro smiled crookedly. "It was fine, Aunt Hisana. Thank you for asking." As macabre as he was, Toshiro managed to keep up a near-constant regime of politeness. But that was only because he was angling to spend the break with Senna rather than his own family.
"Oh, Rukia, it's almost time for Ichigo to come over. Go and make sure your room's clean."
Rukia rolled her eyes but tromped up the stairs anyway, having no intention to clean her hurricane of a bedroom. On her way up the stairs, she saw Akamori on her cell phone, her face indescribably pained as she listened to the person on the other end. Renji was there, too, looking anxious, but not in his usual way. Her sister's face splintered several times at the voice on the other side.
What the hell is wrong with my family? She asked herself, swallowing and running the rest of the way up.
She snuggled against the gigantic Chappy and watched the snow, heavy and thick, plummet from the heavens. As she watched the hills, they shifted in her mind – becoming sun-drenched, bright green mounds. The way they had been back in summer, the first time Ichigo had been at her house. The bastard, beautiful as he was, had stood there and waved at her, in plain sight.
Beautiful as he was?
Not again. Rukia raced over to her mirror and ripped the brush through her hair, which had poofed up a bit over the course of the day. She gave herself a halfhearted smile, as she always did when she looked in the mirror, and tried to picture herself with Akamori's features. But they didn't fit her. And they had never done Akamori any good, right? Don't go comparing yourself to her again, Rukia. I think you're cuter, anyway, said Ichigo's voice in her head. She went red and turned away from the mirror, knowing very well he would never say such a thing. He avoided awkward moments like the plague. But everyone did.
A pair of brown eyes in the doorway made her jump, but it was just Akamori, looking out of place in the disaster-shack that was Rukia's room. "Hey," she said, sounding a harried. "I needed a break from Chihiro."
Rukia nodded as if she knew what that was like, and looked out at the hills, thick and caked with snow. She wanted very badly just to roll around in it, Christmas outfit and all, to leave craters in the snow, to say, I was here! You had better remember me!
"So," Akamori said.
Rukia looked at her, expecting a smug remark, but saw nothing but pain in her sister's eyes. Shocked, she said, "What's wrong?"
Akamori opened her mouth, as if to tell her something, but clamped it tight, looking at her sister's feet. "Nothing, you know how I get on Christmas," she said, trying very hard to sound happy, but failing. "You look pretty today," she complimented, trying to change the subject.
"Thanks, so do you." Rukia smiled faintly, but looked further into her sister's eyes. She had never seen them this way before, so eclipsed with pain, burned out. "Akamori, what's wrong?"
The older Kuchiki swallowed hard. "Today's Christmas, Rukia. Go and help Mom set the table."
"Why don't you?"
"I already did!" Akamori snapped, looking irritated. "It was my stupid idea to come here. But I'm trying so hard to be nice to this screw-up of a family, so just play along and don't fight with me!" on the last word, her voice broke an octave higher. She left the room quietly, though, disappearing down the stairs.
Rukia felt stupid and confused at the exact same time. The features on her face felt locked into that surprised face she always reserved, should Akamori ever lose her cool that way. And it hardly ever happened.
She remembered the last time it had – she, Rukia, had been eleven, Akamori fifteen. Her sister had gone to a friend's party and had come back crying and screaming, and she had remained in a state – afraid of the world, pulling away at the slightest touch. This time was different, though, and it struck odd chords within Rukia.
"Okay, well..." Rukia said, forgetting her sister had left the room. When she noticed, she bolted down the stairs.
Her mother was on the phone. "Oh, that's fine!" she winked at Rukia, giving her a full-on grin. Rukia smiled nervously and got out the silverware, giving each place a butter knife, steak knife, spoon, and glass. Ichigo would take her father's chair, she realized. That was okay.
Renji was talking to the baby in the other room, and Hisana was yammering on about... she mentioned Ichigo's name. That was all Rukia heard, and excitement spiked up within her. She was talking to Isshin. And that was good, because those two agreed on just about everything.
Rukia ran about the house, rearranging things. She knew that Ichigo had always been impressed by the estate, but she wanted to make sure that everything was top-notch perfect. It was funny; when it was just her family, she was a slob, but when Ichigo was around, she got an OCD-like obsession with cleanliness.
And then, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," Renji said loftily, but Rukia pushed past him and he smirked. "Love birds."
Shooting Renji a glare, she opened the door. The glare fell from her face, sliding into a smile. "Ichigo."
He was in his tuxedo again, grinning at her, dimples prominent. "Hey, Midget."
Having not seen him for a few hours, Rukia felt her heart hammer in her ears. She was just so glad that he was here again. "How's your family?"
"They're all right," he said simply, moving forward to shake hands with Hisana. "Hey, Mrs. Kuchiki. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Hisana said jovially, going back into the kitchen at top speed. Rukia thought she smelled something burning, but didn't want to ruin the moment by making a big deal out of it.
"Ichigo," Akamori said with a grin, "You've been putting the moves on my sister?"
Renji sniggered, but Ichigo and Rukia glared at them in unison. "No, where have you -"
"Toshiro," Rukia said, cutting him off.
Ichigo's eyes tightened as he grimaced knowingly. "I really couldn't expect less from you guys."
"C'mon, Ichigo. You know you like us anyway," Renji said, watching Chihiro, who was sitting on the floor near Toshiro. The white-haired boy had looked annoyed enough, since he was public enemy number one, but it had always been evident that he hated children. She tugged on his pant leg.
"...Hello," he said awkwardly.
She looked at Toshiro with wide eyes, and stuck her little arm out.
"She wants you to pick her up," Renji explained, the self-righteous expression on his face heightening.
Toshiro blinked. "Me?"
"She likes you," Akamori said.
Rukia looked at Ichigo, who was smiling in anticipation. Shortly after, she realized that she was, too. "Go on, Toshiro."
He simply leaned over and picked the infant up, his hands trembling. "Fine. What do I do now?"
"She's a baby, for chrissake. Just hold her," Ichigo sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. Rukia watched her cousin fumble with the child, trying his hardest not to drop her, and frowned a little. Toshiro could just never catch a break, could he?
"Uhm, dinner!" Hisana called uncertainly from the kitchen.
"Food!" Renji and Akamori said, running off toward it. Toshiro let out a laborious breath and followed, still holding Chihiro and leaving Ichigo and Rukia alone in the foyer.
The air felt a little heavy and far too warm. Rukia focused on the chandelier; were those diamonds? There sure were a lot.
Ichigo looked Rukia over. Damn. She looked good. Am I allowed to think that? She's my best friend. Ha, wonder what she would say if I told her that. She'd probably deck me. He stood up straighter, taller, and said, "So, how are things?"
"Things are fine," she said nonchalantly, still not looking at him. Irked, Ichigo looked in the opposite direction, working not to look nervous or eager, but it wasn't working. He could never compose himself around Rukia Kuchiki. It was too hard. Her Christmas present in his pocket felt much heavier than it had been when he picked it up earlier, and he wondered if it was overkill. He felt stupid for buying it. But then she smiled. "I know... I said it already... but, uh, Merry Christmas."
Since he had been expecting something else... ignorantly... Ichigo swallowed and said, "Yeah. You too."
"Sorry about how I acted earlier."
"It's okay. I understand," he said, though he really didn't. "Wanna go and eat?"
Both relief and disappointment consumed her. "Yeah. Let's go."
I'm so glad I worked this through 'till the end. I didn't know if I could get up the strength to finish the chapter. It wasn't a long one, I know. But did you like it? Be detailed, if you would. Oh, and also... sorry about the wait. I was busy. You see, the person I'd liked for so long... asked me out. So I was a little tied up, if you understand. But I am very happy as of this moment. And this is good, this is very good, because I'll be able to draw from our experiences and use them for writing. I already have, a bit, in this chapter. I won't blabber on any more... so... also! If I got an idea from you, and I didn't use it this chapter... I will! Soon! Understand this, because I did get a lot of suggestions for this chapter.
You know what I figured out? Akamori looks a hell of a lot like Minami Maho from BECK: Mongolian Chop Squad. I've always seen her that way XD
And, poor Hitsugaya! That Halibel needs to get pwned, and soon, too. I'm working on many ways to kill her in my head. Stupid... person... Halibel O.o And, I... am reaching 500 songs on my iTunes soon! I'm pathetic, I need to find something more meaningful to say... OH! Ums... I think I'm finished here! I will love you forever if you review! I MEAN IT! XD