birdhouse
"I love you."
They are standing under a birdhouse when she says it. Ichigo is shocked, dumbfounded and he vaguely thinks that he must have looked dumb, exactly like the way he feels.
But his expression does not seem to discourage the auburn-haired girl. She is still smiling that honey-sweet smile of hers; she does not look embarrassed, but is really red, red like apples, and she looks… she looks really, really lovely.
He wonders if it is right… or normal to be that pretty.
"I…" He stammers and his frown deepens.
She smiles one of her many bright smiles. Unable to bear it, he averts his gaze, his frown strained.
"You're sorry."
He says nothing but it sort of confirms her statement.
"Me too," she says after a while.
At this he looks at her. She is looking up to the birdhouse.
"Me too,"
"Inoue, I –"
She turns and smiles at him, sweet and understanding. "But I love you. And it's alright." She takes one of his hands with both of hers. "I wasn't expecting anything from you."
He swallows and he realizes that there are lots of things he wants to say, so much that it kinda hurts because he has lots of things to say that he feels he's going to burst, and his heart – which beats like crazy, tap dancing inside his ribs – to burst with so much angst, strain, and maybe grief. And she… she has small hands. And she is really pretty, blossoming, lovely and –
"I'm leaving."
He stares at her, wide-eyed.
Her eyes are twinkling and there are no hints of sadness in those eyes. Oddly, this hurts him a little.
"And to be honest, I am glad that you don't…" she pauses, choosing her next words, but ends up telling him, "I'm glad that you don't love me back. Because I'm leaving and I'm not going to come back."
He manages a dumbfounded look. And it is his hand that grips hers, because really, what is there to say?
He can only cling to her, to that hand.
"So yes, this is cliché," He watches her hands let go, she steps away, walking backwards leaving him under the birdhouse.
The wind passes by, and her hair, her lovely hair, those thick red strands, they swirl, they twirl like ballerinas around her smiling face.
"I love you."
That smile, again, that makes her painfully lovelier.
"Goodbye."