rent
14. in my defense i have none
by appleschan
The lights go out in the house, all of it. Maybe something electrical.
Rukia is in the middle of Ichigo's doorless library, lounging on her lilac reading chair when the lamp beside her flickers off. She closes her book with an abrupt snap, tiptoes, and peeks out, "are the lights...out?"
It is dark everywhere. She can hear heavy footsteps approaching.
"Yeah," Ichigo walks past her. Rukia couldn't quite see him but his silhouette is defined in the hallway, broad and tall, and there's a familiar wisp of air, and his hair is still bright without illumination —what a strange thing.
"Well, that doesn't happen...at all," she says, and follows him to the first floor and notes how distinctly heavy his footsteps are.
"Yeah, I wonder if it's just us…? I'll check some things."
In the dark, Rukia stifles a laugh, how would he know, there are no houses within at least a mile radius. "I don't know how you'll do that, Ichigo, but I'll get some lights…"
Ichigo turns, "hey, it's in the—"
"I know!" She calls and he knows she's gone to the kitchen.
After 15 minutes, they found themselves at the front steps of his house. Two flashlights and an emergency light sit on the steps, one of the bulbs is broken. Ichigo is miffed that he is somewhat unready.
"So what did they say?" Rukia inquires.
On his phone, Ichigo mouths, "outage." There's a deeper than usual scowl on his face and his lips tilted to one side. She thinks he probably already misses his tractable synthetic type theories and is already thinking about the stacks and typing away clack clack clack on his keyboard.
"Did they say for how long?" Rukia isn't disappointed or even mad, but it is certainly troublesome and not comfortable either.
"Standby, other than that, I don't really have anything else," Ichigo shrugs, both an answer and a non-answer, then pockets his phone and looks at Rukia.
She, obviously disrupted from her nighttime reading, looks fine, a bit out of sync with the time, she's still in her yellow dress, and her hair is still partly tied up and there's a faint smell of freesias, probably her. But her eyes are luminescent in the dark —what a curious thing. "Well then, I'll stay here," she says decidedly, putting her hands on her hips, "I don't think I can read here though."
"Yeah, don't strain your eyes, dumbass."
Rukia eyes him, speechless for a moment, he communicates kindness that way, then, "yes, and don't you dare bring your laptop here, if it even has a battery."
"My eyes are like...are like, dark-mode adjusted."
"What is even dark-mode adjusted?" she snorts at him, and hears him laughing quietly. Rukia looks a bit more, his shoulders are looser and he's more carefree.
It's summer, and there's an outage, and it's incredibly dark inside the house. Rukia moves closer to the steps, "well, I'm really just going to stay here," then she sits properly, folding her dress beneath her thighs like the well-to-do princess she is, Ichigo is sort of both amused and annoyed by this at the same time (what bullshit, he's seen her chase after rabbits and red pandas screaming Melody! Retsuko! without shoes on).
Settled, she says to him, tapping the space beside her, "you're welcome to join me on your front steps if you want."
"Hah," Ichigo looks around, there's a bit of cool breeze in the nighttime wind and it is not as dark —they could see the trees swaying, fireflies from afar, and a full moon hidden by heaps of wispy clouds. "Right," he joins her on the steps, a few inches beside her but two steps lower. Unlike her, he removes his shoes and stretches his legs out, and massages the kinks in his back. "I guess we'll wait it out, then." There's really nothing productive to do in the dark.
"Ichigo, what were you doing when the lights went out?"
"I'm measuring something..."
Rukia narrows her eyes at him, "are you sure you are not doing anything funny?"
Ichigo looks at her severely, he is handsome and it's very arresting most of the time, "yes," he deadpans, "I'm going to buy a fridge, so I need some counter measurements."
"Oh! Good, does that mean we're going to act like normal humans and actually store and cook our food?"
"Shut up," he scowls. They had instant ramen cups and bean buns for dinner a while ago.
It's pleasant, talking to Ichigo isn't like talking to a wall and waiting for his response isn't like waiting for paint to dry anymore, Rukia feels a lot more comfortable (and braver), too.
"And you're still, what, working on that tragic comparison between classic novels and your crappy shoujo manga and porn novels? How dare you, by the way."
"Yes, you want to hear it? I have a point-by-point analysis sitting here if you want—"
"No—"
"—yes."
"Stop—"
Rukia shakes her head. He is hopeless. "I'll sneak some into your reading list one of these days, you won't know you're reading some illicit love affair under the moonlight where both leads keep pining but it ends tragically and you will praise it. You won't know! I'll splice it into one of your Shakespeare or Austen—"
"I would know, and don't you ever dare."
His expression is hard and he means that, so she laughs, melodious and real. He can quote them from memory, or is it from the heart? But she would really dare, really, anything to challenge his so-called classical taste and preference and caliber.
Then they easily settle on this after a while. This, the sort of quiet comfortable stillness and steady heartbeats. There's no apparent themness many months ago—it has always been awkward silence and full of careful tiptoeing but there is one now.
Over at Ichigo, he commits her laugh to memory. It is fast becoming a familiar sound around them, and it is a pleasant thing, as if his heart is inexplicably overflowing, masked well, of course, by well-worn deep scowls and rough shut up! For Ichigo, the realization came swiftly and easily: one afternoon, over lukewarm jasmine tea, at the quiet humming of his laptop as his codes calculated the factorial of each known number into oblivion, he thought of Rukia and what if he loved her. After Rukia, he's come to know of familiar things differently: city streets, front steps, convenience stores, breakfasts, rooftop, soccer field, New Year card. Is he supposed to think of her in this manner: this street in front of the bus stop where they first met or often walk together, when he woke her up one winter afternoon and they ate warm stir-fry at the front steps of his house, over quiet breakfasts, there at the soccer field when she waits for him sometimes so they could go home together, their nightly convenience store trips, the New Year card she gave him, I'm grateful for having met you.
Ichigo looks over at Rukia, her hand under her cheek, her eyes are closed. It is really getting late. He stares a bit more, and thinks that he has no need for anyone's heart, but he's pining for one now —what a strangely bothersome thing. (I cannot fix the hour or the spot—)
It's almost 12 AM when the lights return. Ichigo hears the clicks inside the house and it wakes Rukia. He stands first and offers his hand to her.
"I'll make a grocery list," Rukia says quietly, yawns, and takes his hand, "I mean, when you buy a refrigerator." His hand is warm.
Ichigo considers and the two proceed to the front door which he opens for her but she refuses to go in first, then they fight over who goes in first ("you find the switch!") Ichigo goes in first.
"Alright," Ichigo shrugs, once inside, "just don't...don't put stupid stuff, no unhealthy stuff, no matcha Pocky or KitKats, we'll buy fresh, the sort, you know what I mean."
Rukia, albeit sleepy, still rolls her eyes at him, "you hypocrite, you finished two instant ramen cups earlier."
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(the next morning, the first of her realizations: maybe, in this manner: she isn't imagining it. A friendlier Ichigo is a great change, but with it comes the lingering stares when she's not looking, maybe more of curiosity but when she catches his eyes he looks away. She wonders if...if she looks at him, would she catch his...? Oh)
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a/n: thank you, guests. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ i'd send you matcha pocky if i could.