Author's Note: Hello, people! It's been absolutely ages since I updated, hasn't it!? Gomen, gomen! It's actually been one whole month and ten days. I worked it out LOL. Well, I'm finally getting back in thuh game, people and I can't wait to get into the habit of writing again! Wooot! Reason for absence: School, school, school! School's a drag, huh. Anyway, so if I take a while to update again you'll know what's going on. ...School! Anywho, I'm excited/anxious about this chapter. (I always am, aren't I?) It's pretty short, but I think you'll like it...Enjoy!! (& R+R!!)
Ichigo entered the warm room, the door creaking open. As he approached the bed, he witnessed the dawning of a new day. The rebellious sun was reluctantly rising from what appeared to be a mere dark abyss, laid beneath the earth. The remnants of the black, 'night' clouds that had scorched the sky hours before gradually descended into nothing. Self-destructing themselves as the pastel blue color transformed itself from the bleak emptiness that once had coated the wondrous pallet.
Today was fresh. A totally new start from everything, he could feel it. The sun was a much-awaited, cheerful change from the awful weather that had impaled Karakura's natural beauty over the passing weeks. Finally, it felt a little more like summer.
The male Death God seated himself on the edge of the covers, careful not to sit on a sleeping Rukia. He could already feel the warmth on his face from the sun's heavenly raise, just by sitting there a few moments. Ichigo turned around to face the dreaming figure beside him. She was so peaceful in the morning glow. He scanned her soft features carefully. Her resting violet orbs, her cute little nose, her kissable lips. Ichigo watched the gradual rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled oxygen. He could hear her fragile breaths. Her whole being was a subject of tranquility and calm – hardly anything compared to what she was like when she was awake. She was beautiful while she slept. Well, she was beautiful all the time, but it was easier to admire her while she was sleeping. For if she was dreaming, he wasn't obliged to make an excuse as to why he was looking at her in much a manner.
Ichigo shifted in his position; taking up more space on the bed. Rukia stirred, mumbling something in her sleep. He sat stationary for a moment before she returned to her peaceful position. After he was convinced she was still sleeping; he moved closer towards her head. The male Death God gently removed a stray strand of raven hair from her perfect face. She shivered slightly with the contact, before curling up tighter into a little ball. It was difficult for him to admit it, but he couldn't take his eyes off her petite form. The orange-headed boy felt like he could watch her forever. Urges to embrace her and touch her grew strong, but he resisted. (Just about).
Ichigo had become torn over the last few days. While Rukia had been sick, he'd become a self-proclaimed doctor. The strawberry had made it his absolute duty to protect her, pump her full of medicine, fetch and carry for her and keep her company. Ichigo had taken over Isshin's job – which was no biggy to the latter; for this way he had time to treat other patients and marvel at the way his son was acting. However, Ichigo hadn't really noticed his actions until his father had spoken with him the night before. Isshin had told him that he was 'acting like a love-sick puppy; lusting after it's ill owner'. Usually, the reaper would just moan, then simply shrug it off. Not this time, however. Ichigo had realized that, in fact, he had been acting differently. He'd been attached to Rukia's side practically all-day and all-night. The only time he reluctantly left her was when it was time for school. This knowledge made him consider things that had never crossed his mind before.
Why am I acting like this? Is it out of friendship? Is it out of...
He was unwillingly engaged in a mental battle.
They were close, they had always been close. But now...seemed different somehow. Something intense had gripped Ichigo, and he was getting tired of fighting it. He'd been caught in a repetitive loop with Rukia for a long time, and, basically, the male Death God was sick to death of it. Confusion had finally lifted, (sort of) and all possible thoughts and excuses he'd conjured up had deteriorated. They all led to one single motive. It was so simple it angered him. Ichigo guessed he'd spent so much time pushing that cause away that it hadn't been able to occur to him. As if it hadn't been given the necessary amount of time to develop properly in order to be fully considered. What was the point in denying it, anyhow? All it did was prolong the inevitable. And that, frankly, was pointless.
He leaned over her seemingly delicate form. Amazing how she slept like a log most of the time. When asleep, she looked so carefree, so easy going. Staring at her; his discomfort grew. He felt as though he'd discovered the answer. He felt he was absolutely sure of himself and his situation. But, somehow, the orange-headed reaper still managed to keep that stubborn attitude he wished he could lose. There was no point in denying it. So why did he insist on doing so? What was he subconsciously gaining from acting like an asshole? Was this really the answer, after all? Or was he just trying to make Rukia feel better?...
He wanted to scream.
Of course, staring at her this way, made that other feeling grow also. It was difficult to chose. His mind seemed to be split down the middle; one side was desperate to experiment with the unknown, while the other remained fixed with Ichigo's old ways – simply refusing to venture forward. Ichigo wanted to experience new things, however he felt held back by his own mind. Maybe confusion had cleared up a little, but there was still a whole lot of field to cover before he could say he knew exactly what was going on.
At first, Ichigo had despised Ishida. He was just an annoying pest that leeched off Rukia whenever the chance came up. Ichigo used to question his motives. It wasn't like Ishida to act that way, especially not with someone like Rukia. Ishida was the quiet type – not the kind of guy that shouts his feelings to the high heavens. But, he had. Maybe that was why initially Ichigo had become uncomfortable with the Quincy's presence. After all, to Ichigo, Ishida had been an interference.
Maturing over the last days of her illness, though, Ichigo had come to a few realizations. One of those revolutionary changes in his conscious had concerned Ishida. If this feeling was indeed what he'd suspected, he had no right to distrust Ishida's actions. For Ichigo would, in turn, be in the exact same position as him – rendering the Death God unable to pass judgment. Ichigo shouldn't have hated him for merely expressing his feelings, in likeness to how Rukia expressed her's. If Ichigo was truly willing to change, it wasn't just his behavior towards Rukia that was going to have to shape up.
Ichigo had never really thought of things from Ishida's point of view before. He'd always been so self-absorbed and stubborn to acknowledge the 'Quincy' side of things. But thinking about it now, Ichigo felt slightly remorseful. Either way, no matter what happened, Ishida was the loser. If Ichigo and Rukia were to get it together, then Ishida would be screwed. And if they didn't get it together, Rukia wouldn't be prepared to play along to the Quincy's tune just to save his feelings, was she? So, both ends of the spectrum looked bleak for him. And here Ichigo had been feeling pitiful of himself, having to put up with the bespectacled boy and Rukia. When the one that was truly suffering was Ishida. And he hadn't even realized his inevitable upset. He had been so innocent; just living for the time being. He was holding onto a hope that didn't exist.
But then again, Rukia wasn't really in the easiest position, either. She'd have to break Ishida's heart sooner or later, unless by chance he managed to get over his crush. Ichigo couldn't deny that Rukia had been very brave to go through what she was experiencing. Sure, she may have been over a hundred years old, but that wasn't to say that the problems she encountered were a simple hurdle for her. The female Death God had been carefully juggling Ishida's feelings as well as Ichigo's and her own.
It was weird, but the orange-haired boy found himself wondering what Ishida would do in his situation. Sitting on his bed, watching Rukia intently while she slept. The Quincy would no doubt seize the moment. Most likely to talk to her, maybe lay next to her. Kiss her?...
I wonder what it'd be like to kiss Rukia...
They'd kissed before. Well, if you claimed that as kissing. It was rather Rukia placing her lips against his and hoping for a response. (Which, she didn't get). He'd felt that 'kiss' of her's, he knew that taste, but it wasn't like...a proper memory. There was nothing that truly stayed in his mind about it. All he knew was she tasted of strawberries. But he only knew that because he'd told himself that fact. It wasn't as if he actually remembered tasting that faint essence. Sometimes, when he reflected real hard, he could feel her touch. He could recall the exact pressure, the exact feel. But, it still wasn't the same...He wanted to know whether she still tasted of strawberries. He wanted to feel that delicate pressure again. He wanted to re-jog his memory.
Leaning over her like this, it felt strange. But, it felt right.
Lowering his face down to her's, he felt her warm breath glide over his jaw. It made him shudder. Was this really right? Why the hell was he doing this, anyway? Curiosity wasn't the best reason to kiss somebody. What would happen if Rukia was to wake up? Then he'd be truly stuck!
The blood rushed to his face, making it glow. Ichigo had never dreamed of behaving like this. If he was adamant that he didn't love her, then why? Why was he doing this? Why did it feel so essential to do this? Why did he feel as if he needed to kiss her? He felt disgusted with himself, like some sort of perverted weirdo. But, at the same time, he wanted to kiss her. So badly. This only angered him further for he had no clue as to why he wanted to do such a thing. (Geez, this guy is too dense!) And thus, the mental battle raged on.
Maybe it would be better if I just kissed her head. It's perfectly normal for friends to kiss each other on the head, right?
He closed his eyes and timidly approached her forehead with his lips. Feeling the touch of her skin beneath his own, it almost made him feel warm and his flesh seemed to tingle. Though it felt surprisingly good, he still wasn't sure. So, he did what any other hormone-driven boy his age would. He experimented.
Ichigo planted another kiss on her. But this time it was on the bridge of her nose. It felt even better than the first time. This was just a peck, but, to him and his inexperience of kissing, it felt so amazing. Even though she was unresponsive, (duh, she's sleeping!) it didn't seem to matter so much. Ichigo wanted to continue kissing her. Something gathered in his stomach; like butterflies. The intense feeling almost choked this throat, rendering him breathless. Before, he had hated that feeling, but now, it felt damn good. He gladly welcomed it.
Resting his weight on his forearms; the orange-headed boy continued placing gentle pecks down her face, his fingers venturing across her cheeks and through her thick raven hair.
"Ichi-nii!" Yuzu's sweet voice called from outside his door. "Breakfast's ready!"
His face rapidly changed color as he reopened his eyes and looked down at the figure laying below him; fearing she'd woken up. However, much to his relief, she was still silently dreaming. The male Death God had been stopped in mid-kiss, and he was just about to plant a tender gift on her lips when his younger sibling had brought him sharply back to reality. Reliving his actions made him blush deeper and deeper; forcing him to stack up the guilt that dwelled inside him. What was he? Some kind of sicko!?