There were nights where he would be deep asleep, tired from studying for next day's exams, and the next moment, he would be frowning up at her before moving aside to let her lay next to him, warm beneath his blanket. At some of his more lucid moments he would murmur sleepily to her, are you hurt? Even with a broken wrist once, she would answer, no, and would take care to put her injured hand at the side farthest from him, letting it dangle down the edge of his small bed.
There were nights where she wondered, would this ever end? She imagined a nice future for him: finishing medical school, working at his father's clinic and eventually inheriting it, marrying an Orihime-like sweet nice girl, living a normal life. She knew it was too late now, after what they had gone through, after he had gone to Soul Society to save her, after he actually became an official shinigami. She knew all this, but she had a small hope in her heart that there would be a way to end it and give him the future she imagined for him.
There were nights where he seemed to know. He would turn to her and stare at her for long moments until she asked him what was wrong. He would tell her words she had been hearing for a long time and chose to ignore or to believe. He knew all this, but he had a stubborn thought that one day she would stop ignoring it.
Nights in Soul Society were always cool and fresh, curiously still without a breeze. She would be alone.