Renji lay awake in the dark next to Ichigo's bed. He was stretched out on his back, arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, mind running endlessly over the day's events, how he'd dropped more obvious hints than he ever had before, and yet Ichigo still hadn't withdrawn his hand of friendship – in fact, he'd almost, dare he say it, indulged him, let him be as close to him as social graces might allow.

He wondered if in the long run, this would make things harder, Ichigo taking pity on him in this way. It might be better if Ichigo slammed the lid down on it, gave him a strict boundary line instead of feeding him like a starved animal. He was bound to come back for more. He was bound to hope.

Renji sighed. He couldn't seem to fall off into dreams, but Ichigo was soundly asleep next to him. They'd talked in the dark until Ichigo had grown too weak and exhausted, and had shut his eyes. It was a peaceful night – the cats were quiet other than their occasional movements through the house, and Renji should've been able to rest, but he couldn't turn off his brain.

About ten minutes ago, Ichigo's breath had started rasping in his chest, hissing with the effort, and his nose whistled slightly. Worse was that he could feel Ichigo's bodyheat from here, and not in a pleasant romantic way either; in an alarming way. It was raging like a fire, a wet blazing heat. The poor guy was sweating so much that his hair was damp and his face was flushed bright pink. Renji honestly didn't know how he hadn't woken himself up in the heat.

After moping on the floor for some time, feeling sorry for himself - why can't people make their hearts do what they want? - he sighed loudly in a sudden fit of frustration.

'It's too hot,' he thought tiredly, and finally sat up, sweating himself.

He was thankfully beginning to get drowsy by then, and yawned as he took his bandanna off, pleased with the way the air felt cool on his forehead. He took his hair down and ruffled it out, then lifted an arm to smell at his sleeve.

His shirt was sweaty and damp, and with another yawn, he pulled the sweltering thing over his head, laying it on the floor next to him. He looked at Ichigo again, gazed at him for quite some time, and then glanced around him guiltily, feeling rotten somehow for looking at Ichigo's sleeping face.

Pulling his legs up a bit, Renji sighed and put a hand to his forehead, resting the weight of his head there. He thought about the summer Ichigo had graduated, how he'd gone off to school. He remembered how he'd felt that day; it had been like losing Rukia all over again.

He let his lip twitch with a sad smile when he thought of the beginning, how he'd gotten to know Ichigo, how he'd once hated him with a vicious jealousy, seeing him get so close to Rukia when he couldn't – but then, the frustrating wonderful pain in the ass that he was, he'd brought Rukia back into his life, he'd healed all of Renji's insurmountable pains, the pains of a decade. He thought of how he'd come to respect and admire Ichigo, how he'd come to be his friend, how grateful he'd been that this crazy kid had given him a second chance to get it all right - what an amazing gift Ichigo had given him. He'd forgotten how happy he could be.

He thought of how he'd grown to love Ichigo.

And then, seeing him leave… watching him get on the train and knowing he could never tell him his true feelings – it had been hard, just as hard as letting go of Rukia, missing her for ten years.

Renji had always heard about how you meet people for a reason and that they'll change you, how love changes you, and he believed it was true. Looking at Ichigo's face and remembering the things he'd done for his life, the things he'd felt in his time knowing him, how could it not be true?

Without knowing quite what he was doing, Renji leaned towards the bed, gazing down at Ichigo's sleeping face, the way his own hair seemed to frame it, hanging in a red curtain. He looked so innocent, lying there, peacefully dreaming… He rested his hand near Ichigo's head, fingers just out of reach of his soft fluff of hair.

He thought of waving to Ichigo as he got on the train to leave, and the feeling of having lost the best thing in his life, of having wasted an opportunity. Rukia had been returned to him, and he was endlessly grateful, but it almost seemed like her return had been at the price of losing Ichigo – and it had hurt, to let Ichigo go without telling him how important he'd been and how he'd changed Renji's life, without telling him he'd never known how deeply a heart could feel, how much love it could fit inside of a person. It had hurt to watch him leave without saying those things, knowing that he was never going to say those things.

He sat back and looked at Ichigo's face, and ached. Had Ichigo known then? Had he been able to see it in his eyes? Had he seen through him then as he did now?

'You were my great love.'

Renji looked down at him with a sort of bittersweet longing, his fingers curling up next to Ichigo's face, not bridging the gap. He never would. All he could do was reach… let his fingertips come as close as he dared. 'You are. You really are.'

Ichigo moaned in his sleep suddenly, and Renji startled badly, pulling his hand back and flicking his eyes over Ichigo wildly for signs that he was waking up. Ichigo hummed a sigh and was still, that small movement having flashed the gleam of sweat all over his face and neck through the dim light of the digital clock. He didn't look good at all…

After calming his heart, Renji sat up further and concernedly reached a hand out and felt Ichigo's feverish cheek with his palm, then pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. He was hot to the touch, even more so now that he was asleep. He had to change clothes for the night before he made himself even sicker.

Renji got up on his knees and picked up the washcloth out of the bowl, the ice having melted away and wet it. He squeezed it out so that it wouldn't drip and then wiped Ichigo's face with a tenderness he'd never get away with if Ichigo were awake. Ichigo twitched and let out a shuddery breath, and then lay still again.

'Shit, he's bad.' Renji swallowed and folded the towel up, carefully brushing Ichigo's hair back and then resting the towel on Ichigo's forehead. He took Ichigo's shoulder in hand and nudged him a bit to gently wake him.

"Ichigo," he told him, "It's not good for you to sleep like that." He shook him a bit more. "Sit up and I'll help you change clothes."

Ichigo blinked blearily, waking up slowly as Renji slid an arm behind his shoulders and helped him sit up. The mattress beneath his back was wet and hot with sweat, and Ichigo's shirt stuck to his flesh. "Hunh?" Ichigo moaned tiredly, head bowing forward for a moment when his neck was too weak. Renji brought him up to a sitting position, holding his shoulders steady. "Denji, whadda' you doig'?" Ichigo mumbled, bringing one hand to his forehead.

'Woah, he's congested… What the hell did he say?'

Ichigo mumbled something more, breathing in heavy pants, just letting Renji hold him up, and after listening to his weak whisper of a voice for a moment, Renji thought Ichigo might be delirious. Shit, he'd let Ichigo overheat and he'd cooked his brain.

"Like I said, you've gotta' change," Renji repeated slowly, squeezing Ichigo's upper arms to keep him up, although he seemed more balanced now. "Here, take this off. I'll help you."

Ichigo didn't even put up a token fight or respond in any way at all really, taking great rattling gasps, wobbling where he sat and letting Renji grab and pull at his clothes. Only after Renji had already begun helping did he realize what he was doing, that he was undressing Ichigo, taking off his clothes, and his hands shook as he lifted Ichigo's sweater over his head.

Renji tried not to let it bother him, but the truth was he could hardly stand it. It wasn't that he didn't trust his own self-control or that he was worried that his thoughts might stray south, it was just that Ichigo seemed almost loopy, and was neither fighting him nor cooperating, and it was quite alarming. Ichigo's face was rosy and damp, and he just sat there and let Renji undress him like a doll, swaying slightly, his eyes hooded and sleepy. Seeing him like that, helpless and weak as a baby - god, he can't stand it, he just can't stand it. Renji thought he might die for love of him.

Honestly, he was beginning to feel quite afraid. "Don't worry, you're fine, just- just lemme'..." He tried to sound reassuring, but Ichigo didn't seem to mind either way if he said anything. It didn't even look like he was actually there with him at the moment, though his eyes were open. Renji swallowed hard. "It's okay, this is fine, I'll just..."

He peeled Ichigo's t-shirt up with trembling fingers, lifting Ichigo's arms and helping pull it off him, popping it over Ichigo's ruffled sweaty head. Again, Ichigo let him do so, blinking dazedly and let his arms fall, docile and quiet as he sat there in his damp undershirt, collarbones bare and glistening with sweat.

Renji isn't bothered, since he's seen Ichigo naked before, but with Ichigo so sick and dazed, he kept his hands under a strict watch anyways, using them only with the care of a friend. Ichigo's complete lack of protest spooked Renji – because as closely as he watched his hands and as far as his thoughts were from anything inappropriate, he couldn't help but feel he was using Ichigo's helplessness to his advantage, for his own sick purposes.

Ichigo let out a moan of discomfort and seemed to cringe forward slightly, breathing wetly through his mouth with some effort, his chest heaving and glistening in the dim light. He seemed to blink himself awake a bit, sniffing and looking miserable. "Almost done now," Renji mumbled to him, "C'mere, keep going... that's it, just stick your legs out. Sorry buddy, almost done. I know you don't feel good..."

'This is so wrong,' Renji thought darkly as he pulled Ichigo's blankets down and took the socks off his feet, then unknotted the drawstring of his sweats.

He gripped the loose fabric at his thighs with weak jittery hands and tugged them down a bit, and by then, Ichigo sniffed and said thickly, "All' do id' 'byself."

'Thank god.' Renji released him immediately and grabbed Ichigo's shirts – still warm – and fidgeted with them, turning his head away as much as he could while Ichigo slowly struggled to get his pants off his legs.

"Hey, so where d'you want me to put this? I'll get something for you to-" Unable to help but glance back at Ichigo's patterned boxer-briefs for an instant, he noticed the goosebumps rising on Ichigo's arms. Flesh still slick when sweat, Ichigo gave up on his pants once they were over his knees and went to take off his undershirt.

Suddenly landing on the thought of Ichigo shivering with fever chill, bare-skinned and soaked with sweat, Renji leapt up – 'Shit, that's not good!' He was going to freeze like that. Renji hadn't thought ahead of time to grab something for Ichigo to put on right away.

"Wait!" he yelped, 'Not that I'm not happy to see you taking your clothes off-'

Ripping the top blanket off his futon, he threw it over Ichigo's back and hurriedly said, "Wait, Ichigo, wait a sec'." He scrambled up and tore the room apart, checking the closet, Ichigo's dresser drawers.

"Here? No – here," he muttered, "Anywhere?" Finally he found a suitable long-sleeve with light breathable fabric, and fleece pajama pants. "Here, here's something, hurry and put this on."

Ichigo stared at him dumbly, face still pink and damp. The middle of his brow creased minutely as he looked at Renji, and finally he mumbled, "Huh?" He sniffed and wiped his nose heavily as Renji came towards him and tried to bunch the shirt up to pull it over his head, but Ichigo's arms wouldn't cooperate.

"Ichigo, c'mon, quit being lame," Renji struggled, "Put your arms in!"

"You juss' said da' take id' off," Ichigo noted stupidly, staring at him in a dazed confusion.

"Take it off so you could change!" Renji said, feeling inexplicably panicked. "You've got a cold, put this on!" He lay the shirt in Ichigo's lap and set the pants on the blankets next to him, then turned his back. "Here, I won't look at you, just hurry and put these on," he urged.

He listened anxiously as Ichigo grunted miserably and slowly took his clothes off. Ichigo took a very long time in changing, but eventually he sneezed wetly behind Renji, and he could hear the bedsheets rustling as he got back under the covers. Finally Renji called, "There, are you done?"

"Mhm."

Renji turned back to see him laid out in bed, head pitifully sunk into the pillow. His clothes were in a heap on the floor. "There…" Without thinking, Renji reached a hand out towards Ichigo's head, as if to stroke his hair comfortingly – it just felt like the natural thing to do in this moment – but he stopped himself just in time. "Do you want anything?"

Ichigo shook his head and then heaved and rattled with wet coughs. When he finally ceased, he burrowed in the blankets, covered up to his nose, just his shock of fluffy hair and his reddened moist eyes peeking out. "Tissue," he croaked weakly.

Renji started, having caught himself just sitting and staring at him. "Ah." He got up and looked around the house, then had to settle on bringing him some toilet paper and a waste bin. He'd have to go on a supply run tomorrow.

After Ichigo had gotten situated and blown his stuffed-up nose a few times, he told him something – or tried to at least. Renji frowned. "I can't understand a thing you're saying."

"'Day here," Ichigo repeated more clearly. Renji wilted.

"Okay," he said, surprised to find his lips trembling at the sight of Ichigo's eyes closed in the dark and his hand thrown out of the blankets and weakly searching for something… "Okay, I'll stay here," he agreed almost desperately, his own hands on the bed as he leaned close to him. He felt a soft impact as Ichigo's cat jumped past him onto the bed, curling up on Ichigo's far side.

"'Ride here," Ichigo mumbled sleepily, his searching hand falling limp. He sniffled and breathed through his mouth loudly, chest heaving with effort.

Renji nodded, blinking hard, hands bunching up in the blanket. "I'll stay right here until you go to sleep."

Ichigo shook his head against the pillow. He tried to talk, but it stopped as a bubble of phlegm blocked his throat and forced him to cough. He quickly pulled the blanket up over his mouth and hacked and shuddered with coughs, then finally sniveled and breathed through snot bubbles, exhausted. "Okay," Renji promised, "okay," staying close to his side.

"Gid' a pillow." Renji had to lean close to hear him him. "Closid'."

"Okay."

Renji went to the closet and got another pillow, coming back to find that Ichigo had weakly scooted over a bit for him, just a little, the corner of the blanket pushed down. Renji lay down on the floor next to him, putting his leg up two and a half feet or so to rest under Ichigo's covers, in his bed. Ichigo shifted his leg out a little bit, bumping barely against his by accident.

Satisfied, Ichigo fell asleep with his head turned towards him. Renji lay awake and watched his sleeping face for a long time. 'He looks so sweet like that. Wonder what he's dreaming about...'

He bit his lip and tried to cherish this moment, daring to let his foot brush against Ichigo's hot sticky one – he tried to treasure it in his heart, but he felt rotten. When Ichigo woke up in his right mind, he was going to be so embarrassed, maybe even upset that Renji hadn't put a stop to this.

Renji screwed his eyes shut, angry at himself as he rolled a bit closer, reaching his hand up slowly to curl around two of Ichigo's limp fingers where they hung at the edge of the bed, just for a few minutes…

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he was a weak man with a weak, weak heart.