Author/Artist: Norrowa
Title: Another Girl
Pairing: Shuuhei/Izuru/Momo—or, as I've dubbed it, Shuzumo xD Implied past Shuuhei/Matsumoto.
Fandom: Bleach
Theme: Snow's, #8—"Them".
Rating/Warnings: G. Pretty tame. Possibly angsty, also possibly sappy—let's say, mild angst with a possibly sappy resolution?

For I have got / Another girl / Who will love me to the end / Through thick and thin / She will always be my friend

Faced with Izuru's hurt look and Momo's sad one, Shuuhei could only hang his head.

"Why didn't you tell us, Shuuhei?" Momo asked finally. He didn't have to look; he knew that she had that look on, that look where her brows were furrowed but her eyes were wide. He didn't want to look. He couldn't look. The sight of her face would only send another wave of misery through him.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm… I'm sorry." And again.

"She wasn't asking for an apology," Izuru said. His voice wasn't sharp, just… quiet. Quiet, and disappointed. "She was asking for a reason. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I…" I can't answer that. It's stupid. It's just stupid. It's laughable. Please don't ask me. It's dumb.

For a while, everybody was silent. Shuuhei stared at his knees, and wished that they were a bit more interesting, so that the urge to look up—to search for changes in Izuru and Momo's faces, search for forgiveness and approval in them in the same way a bleeding man might search for something to bandage his wounds with—was easier to resist. He hadn't meant for them to find out about him and Matsumoto. It wasn't important. It just wasn't important. It was in the past. It was over. It was stupid. Just stupid.

"You should have told us, Shuuhei," said Momo. "You should have told us. It… I don't want to make it sound like…"

"It's as though you don't trust us," said Izuru. "It's not… it's not huge. It just… hurts. Especially since you told us that there was nothing between you two. Do you…" He paused, and Shuuhei could feel Izuru's gaze on him. "Do you trust us?"

"Yes!" said Shuuhei immediately. "Of course I do. I—"

"Then why didn't you tell us?"

"I… It's nothing. It's stupid."

"Shuuhei… tell us," said Momo. "Please." And at that, he couldn't resist.

"I was afraid that you'd… That you'd leave." Stupid. Stupid. Now they'd think that he didn't trust them. And he did.

Didn't he?

"Shuuhei," sighed Momo.

When Izuru next spoke, there was something hard in his tone of voice, and that made Shuuhei raise his head again. Izuru was not a hard person by nature—he was all morning fog, all cool blue shadow, all warm golden sunlight that only a mirror could capture. But there was something hard behind his soft, smooth alto voice when he next spoke—something like a granite pillar, the last remnant of an ancient temple; something like the weathered face of a statue that had seen a thousand years.

"Don't hide things from us any more, Shuuhei," Izuru said. His eyes were intent, earnest. There was still something sad and hurt in the line of his mouth, but there was, Shuuhei thought, something happy and kind, too. "There's no need to. We're a them now, and we will never come apart. Ever."