"So I hear she's got a boyfriend."
He remains working on a particularly difficult math problem as his group gossips.
"A girl like that would have to have a boyfriend or two."
"I hear you man! She's so…what's the word I am looking for?"
"Perfect."
"That's right. Perfect," one of them sighs.
"Hey, Ichigo. I heard you know her."
He erases his mistake before looking up in boredom.
"Who?"
"Have you not been listening?"
He shakes his head and looks down at his paper. "We're taking about Inoue Orihime."
Now, they have his attention.
"What about her?"
"Do you know how long she's been dating her boyfriend?"
He glares before responding.
"She doesn't have one."
"Liar!"
He glares some more.
"I'm not lying. She doesn't have one."
"Well, maybe she does, and you just don't know about it. Are you two close?"
His glare lessens a bit as he responds.
"Yeah. She's my," he trails off in an attempt to find an adequate word that summed up their relationship.
"Your?" One of them prompts.
He struggles a bit more before saying, "friend."
"You and her, friends? How'd that happen? You two seem like polar opposites."
He becomes defensive
"We were classmates and then friends. That is all there is to it."
"I can't even imagine what you two have in common," one of them comments.
"Then don't imagine," he bites out before scrapping his eraser against his paper.
One of them chuckles.
"But I can't help it! I want to know what you two talk about. Or what she's like."
"Yeah!" One of them agrees. "What is she like?"
His hand stops moving as he ponders the question, thoughtful.
"She's…" he glances up at the sun beating down on them. "She's so…" he stops.
"So, what?!"
"I don't know. She's just her."
"That's helpful."
"Well, is she funny?" A different one asks.
"Yeah."
"Smart?"
"Yup."
"Nice?"
"To a fault."
"Okay. It sounds like we are getting somewhere! Now, what are her hobbies?"
"Baking and cooking weird things."
They prompt him to go on with a look.
"She likes sewing. And reading. Games, too."
"Really? She doesn't seem like the type."
"She's unique. She doesn't fit into any type," he comments as he looks down at his paper.
"Are you saying she's one of a kind?" One of them jokes.
He shrugs, neither denying or confirming. Although, it is definitely the latter.
"So she doesn't fit into any type…but is she your type?"
"What do you mean?" He asks knowing full well what the other is hinting. He just wants to play dumb a little longer to prolong the inevitable answer.
"Come on, man! Do you like her?"
"Yeah. She's my friend," he continues his oblivious act
"Do you like her more than a friend?" One pushes.
"Yeah. She's like one of my best friends. She's one of the most important people in my life."
One of them roll their eyes.
"Okay. That's nice and all, but do you want to fuck her?"
He freezes and then blushes. From anger, of course.
"Don't talk about her in that kind of way," he growls while emitting spiritual pressure that he can't suppress.
They all flinch.
"Sorry."
He ignores their apologies as he packs up his things.
"Yeah. We just want to know how you can stay friends with her and not want something more."
He stands.
"It doesn't matter what I want," he says as he walks away.
Because if it does, if what he wants really matters, she wouldn't just be his type, he would be hers.