Class seemed to be detrimental to the health of any unlucky fool fortunate enough to be somehow intimately connected with Inoue Orihime. By the time the lunch bell rang and their English teacher left the room, he counted ten threatening notes, twenty perverted notes and five inquiring notes passed to his desk or expertly tossed into his desk without the teacher's notice. He was sure the headache was growing bigger. What was worse than receiving the notes was the ominous glare of Inoue's closest and most violent companion. The girl was smart, he admitted, so how in the world could she afford to spend the whole class time staring at him?
He felt heavy as he stood from the desk and was wary for a few moments. They all assembled around him soon enough, morose and quiet. Well, with the exception of Inoue who had pulled the desk beside his right up and sat down as if she'd done it all her life. Her, eating with him. And like some beautiful wooing of their relationship, she'd set out a pretty blue cloth as though they were dining high class. Ishida easily crushed back the embarrassing hope that she might try to feed him in an adorable show of girlfriendly affection with the feeling of Ichigo's dark eyes watching him.
"Ishida-kun! What do you think we should make for dinner?" She asked cheerfully, raising her chop sticks to strike her own lunch when she stopped and saw his bento still obscured away. She reached over to set it up for him when he took her hand in his, gently stalling her movements.
"Inoue… please understand. About today… you should… ah…" Ishida was tripping over his words. Why couldn't he be suave about it? A silent voice in the back of his head responded loomingly: 'Because it feels like you're rejecting her, when all you want to do is-'. He shushed the voice.
"Orihime-chan, let's have a girls only lunch today. Let Ishida off the hook to hang out with his friends for once," Tatsuki said, almost friendly. Ishida looked up, relieved. When he caught her eye to somehow show her a mental thanks, he saw that the kind façade disappeared and turned into a dark look warning him to step off or lose an arm. He took this threat as seriously as she meant it, and dropped Inoue's hand. He'd honestly forgotten he was holding it.
"Alright! Ishida, please make Kurosaki-san feel welcome here at Karakura!" Orihime said, no happiness lost on her face. Ishida had a sinking feeling as he looked thoughtfully into that gaze, and wasn't sure whether it was him or the greasy shrimp. He nodded, then took his bento and retreated with Sado and Ichigo up to the roof. The other two whose names he'd never really caught had run off to weep in the courtyard about some guys using voodoo to seduce their sweet class goddess in order to take some revenge. He wasn't listening. Honestly, he wasn't. And he most definitely NOT inwardly smiling at the irony of it all. The class geek often thought to be interested in men- snatching away their pure princess. No, Ishida did not inwardly gloat. Well, not that he could acknowledge beyond the pain of digesting morning tempura and taking the first look at his lunch.
"Ishida… how is she?" Ichigo asked softly, not looking at him. Ishida watched his friend carefully, trying to decipher his words. Ishida knew he was asking something else very subtly. Ishida sighed, feeling the first depressing influence since the class princess had become his ward.
"The head wound doesn't seem to be serious. Her co-ordination and emotions are as normal- well, they're the same as before," Ishida answered scientifically. But both heard the final finish on his statement: before she forgot you. It was a pain that he'd rather not visit upon Kurosaki, shinigami or not.
"Has she… asked about me? Is she remembering anything?" Ichigo continued, his nonchalant tone covering the need in his words well, but not well enough for Ishida to miss.
"She… she's worried about you," Ishida said. Despite his grudge against Ichigo for having her affections all this time and just not noticing, he couldn't kick a man when he was down. And the spiky-haired youth probably didn't want to hear that her memory wasn't even showing signs of trying to repair itself. If anything, the lies were becoming more and more intricate. There had been a few moments here and there at home in which Ishida had believed the intricate story that Inoue had weaved. It all seemed so real when it was just the two of them- and yet, at the same time it was fake.
"Ah. Well, I'll try to not worry her," was the only response Ichigo would give. His gaze had locked onto the open bento in front of Ishida. Though the saying was sometimes true that the thought was indeed more important than the gift itself, Ishida could not say he agreed with the flavours of Inoue's thoughts. Dill pickles, sweet bean paste and strawberries did not belong on a pita together. More importantly, how she had made something so ridiculous out of his bland and understocked pantry was a mystery. So he picked at the plain rice on the side, praying thanks to Kami-sama for her foresight in a plain dish. He wasn't sure, but there was a hint of some spice in the green peapods on the other side. He hoped it wasn't cinnamon. He simply couldn't handle the stuff. Especially on top of the unsettled tempura that would not leave him.
Ishida looked over fretfully at the silent freshman beside him. He was dearly afraid that Ichigo was going to cry. As selfish as it sounded, he was bad enough with Inoue crying, the last thing he needed was this. A man he had come to respect, crying at his lunch. It would ruin his appetite altogether. A cloud passed over the bright sun, and Ishida's eyes were hidden by the shine of his glasses.
"Kurosaki?"
"Hn."
"Do you want the pita?"
(A/N)
Hey guys! Sorry about the late chapter. I wasn't around to get the approval message from my Beta reader so it's been ready to go for a few days now... whoopsie.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inoue, Ishida, their cute lunch table cloth, Ichigo and his somber mood swings, Keigo and unnamed male character that doesn't usually take a priority role but is adorable, Tatsuki and her wrath or any perverted notes from classmates that may occur from exposure to Ishihime.
Special Thanks to my plot assistants, cleverly disguised as reviewers...
Sango Hikari: Yes. We all are currently mourning that shirt. Poor thing. I think we ought to hold the proper funeral proceedings and celebrate the valiant fight with a war memorial statue.
Inulover4eva: Yay! Love! I need it this week. Bad week. As usual, lol. And yes, we need to run this by the show creators. I mean, they're so young... and then Inoue would feel like less of a burden on her relatives since they could halve the rent and bills... not that it's all about the crazy romantic moments that could happen... not at all...
fangirlscreams: Thank you very much! It was a bash of fun!
Bubble Tea X3: Well, I don't think anyone is going to eat the green beans in the bento with cinnamon. So you can have part of the bento left over, if you want.
madteen66: Thanks! All these birthday greetings are great! Sorry you guys had to wait so long for this chapter!
Ashari: mistletoe, eh? I like it. I needs more, moooore! Write my little Beta, write! I'll give you some of my sugar. But just a teensy bit 'cause I need it to fluffy up the next chapter of Amnesia.
FlareKnight: Well, at the moment I may be in the mood to write a fight scene, but don't hold your breath. I'm not sure how I want this one to work out.
YachiruGaSukidesu: It sounds interesting. I like this "dinner" idea. Bwahahahaha! Did I mention the war memorial statue is up in order to keep us alive in our torture of Ishida? The statue is of Inoue cooking in the kitchen with the almost defeated shirt on...
Ishida: ...
Inoue: Ah! You're awake! Did you see the war memorial statue?
Ishida: War... memorial... what?
Inoue: Over there!
Ishida: ... thunk!
Hawkeye Chuui: When he comes to again, I'll give your offerings to him. He'll need it for dinner time. lol!
Winterflower: lol, look! My comrade, that statue shall buy us some time until your ankle heals!
Satan Hat: You're right. Rukia's presence needs to be aknowledged soon. Not yet, but soon. You've given me a great idea. Thanks!