AN: This was hastily edited. Sorry if there are any major mistakes.

Ja nee: Extremely friendly way of saying goodbye

Aperture

There was a science to everything, even the act of decision making. While we think of decisions as intent moments of thoughtfulness, most are like muscle memory. They are made before we even realize they are made. In the seconds between being presented with choices and picking one, thousands of neurotransmitters pregnant with memories, experience, and subconscious thought have already chosen and are rocketing that decision right into reality. No matter if it's a question of what shirt you'll wear today or if you'll take that new job, all decisions have a reason, most of which you'll have no time to figure out.

But that didn't stop Ichigo from trying to understand why his mental cruise control decided to drive him straight for the roof. Why did he tell Rukia he'd come here tonight? Sure, he knew he needed to apologize to Byakuya, but considering their wives shared a room, seeking him out like this felt strange. Which was fine, ya know, because he could change his mind, but what wasn't fine was that he didn't want to, and he didn't know why he didn't want to. He felt nervous and apprehensive, but he also felt a need to walk through that door. Mostly he felt like this was one too many emotional levels for a simple apology.

Yet, here he was, standing in front of the last door on the stairs well, telling himself that it was all meaningless, just words that didn't deserve his worry, willing himself to move. Well, he wasn't going back down now. Too stubborn for that. So there was only one other choice.

As he stepped onto the roof, Ichigo was drenched in the cold winds of February. He tugged at the edges of his blue and red varsity style jacket and flipped up the hood as his eyes searched for Byakuya. He didn't find him, but with the way the roof was laid out, you couldn't see the whole perimeter from any one vantage point. You had to, you know, actually move. So, reluctantly, he did.

He walked to the other side, only taking a few steps before he saw Byakuya's frame covered by the purple gleam of a security light. He was bent over a large electrical box with his upper body splayed across it, elbows jutted to either side of him to support his weight. It was such an unexpected and bordering on erotic position that Ichigo went nonverbal at the sight. He couldn't imagine that the refined heir to the Kuchiki legacy would ever hold himself in such a vulnerable way, alone or not. That's when Ichigo heard the shuttering of a camera lense and understood exactly why Byakuya was situated in such a… erm...welcoming stance.

Without even realizing it, Ichigo was ogling the man's backside. Which, if you asked him, was totally not his fault. Byakuya wore these pants that were perfectly tailored to his dimensions, not too tight but certainly fitting enough to highlight his natural assets, which, mind you, were all perked up and advertised right in front of Ichigo who was just a human for christ sakes. Of course he was going to look, and lick his lips, and oh god, what was he doing?

He blinked a few times as if to refocus his one track - or more aptly, one sighted - mind, and as he did, Byakuya stood and tilted his head down at his camera, prompting a pang of urgency in Ichigo's chest. If Byakuya turned to see him, he'd think Ichigo was some gapping weirdo. (And he wouldn't be exactly wrong.) So, quickly, he said the first thing he could think of. "You insulted me with Shakespeare."

At the way Byakuya's shoulders tensed and he spun around in a flinching type maneuver, his apathy cracked opened by shock, it was enough to make Ichigo momentarily forget his stupid choice of greeting. It was enough to make him grin.

His tilted his chin, making his hood inch off his beanie clad head. "I scared you," he stated, unsure of why he was so amused by this.

As expected, Byakuya was back to his infuriating neutral self. The indifference settled so smoothly, like it was simply a law of nature. A what goes up must come down sort've thing. It was so agitating to Ichigo, the way that Byakuya showed emotions in barely perceivable, flinching microexpressions. So subtly that, if you wanted to know what he was thinking, you had to watch him vigilantly, something Ichigo didn't have the energy to do. And yet, here he was, eyes sharp and ready to catch any signs of humanity under that steely layer of apathy.

"Hardly." Byakuya did his version of an eye roll, his pupils gliding to the side, so full of elegant distaste. "You caught me off guard."

Ichigo's smile stilted but didn't drop. "That just sounds like a really prideful way of saying I scared you."

Byakuya sighed and adjusted the strap of his camera. "Are you following me?"

"What?"

"I can not seem to avoid your presence of late."

Ichigo scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

Byakuya tilted his head, eyes unabashedly sliding over every part Ichigo had. He felt hot under that scrutiny, tongue heavy, and thwarted by a tightness he had to bite down on.

When Byakuya finally finished in his exploration and looked at Ichigo directly, the lines of his lips curving in a way that could almost be considered a smile, Ichigo felt pliaged, as if those eyes took something away from him.

"Why would I have to when your attention does that for me?"

That damned heat shot its way to Ichigo's cheeks and his mouth floundered in a pathetic attempt to scowl. He tried to look at Byakuya, but found it impossible. At least until there was a flashing white snapping him from his embarrassment.

He looked to Byakuya to see him slowly lowering his camera to chest level, the pursed lips a sure sign of amusement, something Ichigo certainly was not.

"What the hell? Don't take my picture!"

"Excuse me," Byakuya said, not sounding apologetic in the least. "I'm terribly sorry. Your expression was amusing and I wanted to capture it. It's a habit of mine."

Never had Ichigo met someone so goddamn infuriating, with his nonchalant attitude, his long enduring stares, and the way he did whatever he wanted while still somehow remaining effortlessly polite. This guy was an ass, and Ichigo had every intention of calling him out on it.

"What's your problem? Do you get off on poverty porn?"

"Poverty... porn?" Byakuya's brows furrowed, the words sounding as uncertain as he looked. "Kurosaki Ichigo, you are at one of the best medical institutions in the world. Calling yourself impoverished is not only a grand exaggeration, but insulting to those who truly are."

"You know what I mean!" Ichigo snapped, his fingers coiling into a clinch where they sat snug in his pockets. "Or maybe you don't. All I know is, you go around saying whatever you want and doing whatever you want, like you're money makes you entitled. Maybe it's because you grew up rich and nobody taught you any social skills. Well, let me be the first to tell you, Byakuya, you're brash as fuck."

Byakuya made an abrupt hiccup like sound only to quickly cover his mouth with the tips of his fingers. If it wasn't for the way his eyes crinkled and the crest of his cheeks puffed, Ichigo wouldn't of known what to make of the outburst.

"Are you seriously laughing at me!?"

"Ah, excuse me," Byakuya said, his voice strained with the aftermath of laughter. Something that might have been endearing if Ichigo didn't feel like a fist was going to bust right through his gut and straight into Byakuya's stupidly gorgeous face. "It is just, you called me brash, and yet you are the brashest man I've ever met."

Maybe it was because Byakuya's voice was still light from the preceding laughter, but what should've sounded like an insult sounded almost charmed, making Ichigo's fingers unfurl and his mouth open and close back again. He didn't know what to say, but it didn't matter, because Byakuya was talking again.

"You must see the irony. You are up here on the roof, for reason you've yet to disclose, cursing at a man you hardly know, speaking so informally to the owner of this hospital, and so unapologetically too." Byakuya rounded the electrical box in silence and sat down facing away from Ichigo. All the while, Ichigo still couldn't find his voice. "I do apologize. I promise not to take your picture again without your allowance. However, if it makes you feel any better, I do only shoot things and people that I find interest in."

There it was again. That heat. God damn this man.

Ichigo tugged at his hair underneath his beanie, let out a breath, and forced himself to say something, anything.

"Rukia, she introduced herself to me. Said I should come up here and talk to you."

"Ah, that does sound like Rukia… What did you mean?"

"About what?"

"When you said I insulted you using Shakespeare."

"Oh, um, when you said, I wish we be better strangers. That's Shakespeare."

Byakuya turned his head, not enough to look back at Ichigo, but enough to catch him in his peripheral.

"I didn't think you would notice."

"Why? Do you assume I'm stupid?"

"It seems to be you who are full of assumptions, Kurosaki Ichigo. As if you expect the worst out of me." Byakuya paused long enough to let the words sit against Ichigo's diaphragm and settle uncomfortably in his gut. "Very few people enjoy reading Shakespeare, especially enough to know a one liner such as that."

"Oh." Ichigo paused, tucking his chin into his collarbone and shuffling a bit. "Hamlet's one of my favorites," he said, not at all sure of why.

Byakuya made a curious humming noise, but said nothing else about it. Instead, he asked, "And why did you want to come up here and speak with me?"

Why indeed? To apologize, mostly, but that wasn't exactly going so well. It had been lost to a strange mixture of irritation and fascination. In fact, if Byakuya hadn't of said anything, Ichigo may have forgotten all together.

"I wanted to apologize."

"Is that what this is? And you say I have poor social skills."

Ichigo's eyes pinched, but he didn't have the supporting anger to hold it up. Instead, his shoulders deflated, and walking towards Byakuya, he said, "I guess I deserve that." He stopped in front of Byakuya, turned towards him, and took a moment to appreciate his profile. "Look," Ichigo said, and Byakuya did, look at him, that is. "I had no right to say those things to you. Yumichika was right, I was projecting, which isn't cool and not the person I am. So anyway, I'm sorry."

For once, Byakuya's stare didn't linger on him. Instead, he turned his gaze back upon the skyline. Ichigo wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Would you like to sit with me, Kurosaki Ichigo?" His lips curled, and he looked at Ichigo out of the side of his eye. "Or would you prefer we make better strangers?"

Ichigo felt himself smile. "I think it's too late for that," he said as he slid beside Byakuya.

And then Ichigo sat there, tapping his pointer finger against his thigh, honing in on the sound of passing cars as he tried to force himself not to look at Byakuya.

He thought about what Rhea would say, about how moments are what you make of them, about how lost opportunities could be as simple as conversation you didn't take the time to have. He could be earnest. He could ask questions that he thought only Byakuya could understand, attempt to create a bond, a friendship, something. Or he could go back to Rhea's room, sit there alone like always, and pretend like he was alright with that. Again, it came down to decisions.

"Does it help?" he asked. "Does hooking up like that make you less lonely?"

Ichigo felt more than saw Byakuya turn to look at him. He stared at the lights, blinking until they were just smudges in his vision, and then turned to look at Byakuya too. Still, he couldn't read him, but there was something different this time. It was as if he had gotten a bit clearer around the edges, as if with enough effort, Ichigo might be able to interpret all the expressions he never gave.

"No, but that does not mean I was disappointed with the evening or that I regret it." He paused and tilted his head towards his hands, blinking. "I enjoyed myself because I did not expect too much from our time together."

"So you're telling me that the key to not being disappointed is to lower your expectations?" Ichigo snorted. "Any more words of wisdom?"

He did that Byakuya eye roll thing again, and Ichigo nipped at his smiling lips. "I am saying that you have to know which moments and people are worth putting stock in and which aren't."

"Make the most of each moment?"

"Yes, something like that. Or more so, be true to each moment."

Ichigo drew idle circles against the mettle with the tips of his fingers. "But, in the room that night, you said you wanted to move on," Ichigo said, managing not mumble nervously. "Right?"

"One day," Byakuya said, his eyes skimming over Ichigo before turning back towards the skyline. "Perhaps I haven't found a moment worth investing in yet… Why do you ask? Do you want to move on, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Ichigo propped up one of his legs so that half his foot dangled off the edge of the box. He pulled his knee against his chest to rest his chin on, watching as his other leg swung lazily beside Byakuya's.

"I'm not as blindly optimistic as everyone thinks I am. I know the chances of her waking up are almost none. I know that I've been pushing everyone away" He turned to look at Byakuya, his cheek resting against his knee cap. "I get it. It's just, everyone wants me to…"

"Move on?"

"Yeah."

"But you're not ready."

"Exactly!"

"Then that's fine," Byakuya said matter of factly. "Only you can decide that for yourself. However, from the perspective of someone who has been there, I will say that there is always hope, but like moments, you have to decide what you should put it in." Byakuya looked at him intently with his skylight eyes, and Ichigo felt his heart thump against his clavicle. "If you spend all your time mourning a locked door, you'll never see the open windows around you."

The corners of his lips twitched. "Didn't know you were so sage, Byakuya."

"Why?" Byakuya mocked, his lips mimicking Ichigo's. "Do you assume I'm stupid?"

Ichigo chuckled, his smirk growing. "Yes," he said.

They looked at each other with soft eyes and with lips that wobbled from a lingering happiness. Then, suddenly, Byakuya turned away, dipped his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a self deprecating huff. "Perhaps I am," he said, making Ichigo shift in curiosity. Before he could question anything, Byakuya was pulling a set of keys from his pocket and letting them sit flatly against his palm. His opposing hand hit the back of his hand with a plop, catapulting the keys towards Ichigo, who despite his obvious confusion, caught them swiftly. "Lock up when you're ready to leave," Byakuya supplied as his slid to standing.

"Oh." Ichigo looked at the keys for a few hesitant seconds before curling his fingers around them. "Thanks. I guess I'll just… return them when I see you next."

Ichigo felt compelled to stand, to match Byakuya's posture, so he did. Byakuya leveled his chin at Ichigo and smiled almost unperceivably. "Keep those. I have a copy. Although," he added, "If the maintenance crew catches you up here, you did not get those from me."

Ichigo grinned and shuffled forward. "Look who has a rebellious side."

Byakuya did his version of a shrug, shoulder rising and falling in a controlled yet fluid manner. "I assume there's much you don't know about me yet, but don't fret," he said, stepping forward, "given enough time, I'm sure you'll figure me out."

Ichigo's smile fizzled, his cheeks slowly becoming a swelling mess of heat. "Yeah, I'm sure I will."

"Jaa ne, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Ichigo's eyes widened, mouth feeling dry as words evaporated from them. He needed to take off this jacket. Wasn't it suppose to be cold?

"Uh, um- Yeah, Jaa ne, Byakuya," Ichigo finally managed, waving dumbly. God, he was such an ass.

Byakuya's smirk was the knowing, slow building type, and if that wasn't enough to make Ichigo fidget, the wink he received certainly was.

Ichigo clutched tighter to the increasingly heavy keys as he watched Byakuya's moving form become contours against the inky, nighttime

backdrop.

Watching him felt ambiguous. It felt dangerous. It felt thrilling.

xXx

There was no doubt that Byakuya was an attractive man, but Ichigo could say the same about a lot of people. Objectively, many of his friends and family members were attractive, but that didn't mean Ichigo was attracted to them.

There was a fine differentiating line between those two concepts, and Ichigo could safely say he had stepped so far over that line he hadn't even seen it since he first met Byakuya.

Ichigo was certainly attracted to Byakuya Kuchiki. He could admit that. He wasn't so insecure about his sexuality or his feelings towards his wife to feel as if it was anything worth getting defensive about. Byakuya was a beautiful man, looking hand crafted like one of his suits or those lattes he was always drinking and Ichigo had eyes and a brain meant to appreciate those sorts of things. Really, it was no big deal.

But as he looked at the clock beside Rhea's bed for the third time that evening, he thought that, okay, maybe it was a tiny, minuscule deal.

He blamed it on the whiplash that was his relationship with Byakuya. They hadn't known each other long, but each of their encounters were always punctuated by intensity. Earnest and full of… something. Rather it was anger or tension or understanding, Ichigo always left with a deeper regard towards Byakuya than he had before.

It had been two weeks since the night on the roof, and now they were simmering. A slow, constant heat warmed all of interactions. They weren't as intense, but they still got to Ichigo all the same.

In those two weeks, Byakuya had started to visit Hisana more often, about the same time every night, and Ichigo had begrudgingly began to anticipate the other man, even look forward to him.

Again, it was no big deal. It was just a combination of proximity, a maddening isolation, and a shared understanding that made Ichigo latch onto the companionship so tightly. Ichigo had been lonely, and Byakuya had surprised him. He didn't except Byakuya to be a really decent guy underneath his layers or cashmere sweaters and blank stares.

Ichigo looked to the clock again and told himself that Byakuya wasn't coming tonight. He didn't like the disappointment he felt nor the guilt that made him look to Rhea with a conflicted frown. No. Ichigo wouldn't feel bad. It was just an infatuation, something fleeting and inevitably shallow. He picked up his book that laid flat against the arm of the couch, and as he flipped to his marked page, he told himself that there was nothing wrong with enjoying someone's company.

"Good evening."

Ichigo's head perked up at the sound, looking at Byakuya as he walked over with two disposable coffee cuffs that Ichigo recognized as the ones from the cafeteria. Byakuya wordlessly sat one in front of Ichigo, who picked it up with a grumbled 'Thanks'. He took a sip before saying, "You didn't have to do this, you know."

Byakuya was already turned away from him and moving towards Hisana. He shrugged casually and said, "I enjoy helping the poor."

"You're a bastard," Ichigo said, having to purse his lips in order to hide a smirk.

Byakuya sat on the edge of the hospital bed, twisted so that he was looking down at Hisana. Ichigo liked watching him like this. He liked the way his eyes softened and the way he'd thumb careful circles on Hisana's cheek. He liked the way his lips went slack whenever he pressed them against the wrinkle on Hisana's forehead.

And yeah, maybe Ichigo was spending too much time with Byakuya. He was picking up his bad habit of staring.

He looked back down at the book, but was stilled when Byakuya said: "Somebody, your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour - and in the oddest places - for the lack of it."

Ichigo stilled as Byakuya looked from Hisana to him, eyes like two skipping stones, smooth and sinking into Ichigo. "That's a line from your book," Byakuya clarified. "Giovanni's Room. It is one of my favorites by Baldwin."

"Oh," Ichigo picked up the book and looked at it as if to make sure it was still there. He shut it and said, "Yeah, it's good. I, um, Yumichika lent it to me." He let out a tiny chuckle. "He has good taste in just about everything."

"Even in men?" Byakuya said with a flinching smile.

"Well, maybe not in everything. "

Ichigo watched the way Byakuya's smirk sat a little more permanently on his face. He watched the way his lips fluttered like butterfly wings, gently slicing the air with each move. He watched the crevices of Byakuya's mouth become soft curves as the lines of his lips fell into heedful slopes. He watched them as they asked, "Would you like to get a drink with me at the bar next door, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

It shouldn't of been so easy to say yes to this man.

xXx

Byakuya stood behind the green felt of a billiards table, his nimble fingers gently securing the edges of a chalk cube. He twisted it against the cues tip in the same way someone turned the knob of a thermostat, his eyes only coming back to Ichigo once satisfied.

"You are not good at this, are you?"

Ichigo looked down to their all but one sided game. "What gave me away?"

Byakuya lifted a brow, seemingly amused. "You're stature is a bit off." He leaned so that his chest hovered above the table, pivoting his hips and pointing one leg out to the side. Ichigo chuckled around the rim of his beer. Byakuya's stance reminded him of one of those cliche scenes in a movie where a woman stuck her leg out into traffic in an attempt to seduce a ride.

"Are you trying to get a shot or a boyfriend, Byakuya?"

The stick hit the cue ball with a clank and ricocheted off the edge of the table before, knocking one of Byakuya's balls into a pocket. Byakuya looked up from his still perched position, and in a way that teetered somewhere between aloof and wry, he said, "Perhaps both."

The devil.

That's what Byakuya was. He had to be, because Ichigo had never met someone who could take his taunts and give them layers. He never met someone who could say something so seemingly noncommittal and yet have it hit with the heaviness of a semi truck.

He took a steadying gulp of his beer as Byakuya rounded the table to stand by his side. "It is also the way you handle the cue stick." He let out a considering hum. "I've noticed that you hold everything like a surgeon holds a scalpel. Gently and with caution." His lips hooked on one side. "It doesn't fit you're bellicose nature."

Ichigo squirmed in his spot, turning so that he was leaning against the pool table. "I guess that makes sense." When Byakuya made a prompting noise, Ichigo said, "I was… suppose to be a surgeon. I finished medical school and my internship. I passed my board exam, but…" His voice wavered. "I'm working at a nearby clinic right now."

"But that's a P.A's job."

Ichigo knew that. He knew he was overqualified for the position, but still, he had defended his choice so often that his explanation became almost scripted, and yet, for some reason, he had forgotten his lines. In replace of them was something that felt like shame or maybe insecurity. Either way, Ichigo tipped his chin to look at Byakuya and hoped his silence could be interpreted.

The lines of Byakuya's netted brows unfurled in understanding. "Your wife," he said.

Ichigo bit his lip and nodded. "We met in medical school," he said, dipping his head. "Did our internship together and everything. It didn't feel right to continue without her."

Byakuya was quite, chewing on the words not in confusion but in a way that said he was trying to decide how he felt about them. He sat down his pool cue and matched Ichigo's position against the table, letting his hands rest precariously against his thighs. "There is this French expression," he said. "L'appel du vide'. It translates into The call of the void. In the simplest of terms, it means that we self sabotage as a form of control."

"Are you saying that I'm self sabotaging?" Ichigo asked, trying to bolster himself with an anger that he just didn't have.

"I am saying that all humans do. It is a natural drive to self-destruct. I have done it. I have regretted it." He paused, angeling his torso towards Ichigo. Their thighs brushed. "We all have moments where we want to jump from high places and hope that there is no one there to catch us."

They looked at each other in the low light of the hanging pool lamp. The sound of frivolous bar speak created a bubble of static around them, and Ichigo thought he should probably step out of it. He thought that he didn't want to.

"What high places have you jumped from, Byakuya?"

The bubble constricted. Their legs pressed firmly. They could feel the breath of each other's words skim across their cheeks. Neither commented on this newfound closeness.

"I saw nothing but my work after Hisana. I was lost in it. It felt like control, but really, it was just an anchor that kept pulling me down. But it's not like jumping off an actual building. You never hit the ground. I didn't want to spend my whole life falling towards nothing."

With a sigh, Byakuya shifted away, and if Ichigo didn't feel so suddenly bereft of something, the distance between them might have felt natural.

"If you would like, I could find a place for you within our residency program."

Ichigo snorted. "Sure. When can I start?" When Ichigo looked to see Byakuya's lax, unassuming expression, his eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Of course."

"Byakuya, you- you can't just give me a residency."

"It is my hospital. I can do whatever I want," Byakuya said as if it was just a basic fact of life.

Ichigo tutted. "Glad to see your position isn't going to your head."

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Byakuya said, prompting Ichigo to look and regard him. His eyes were stern apertures and lips tight slabs like concret. Ichigo wondered if this was the face Byakuya showed only a few poor souls in spacious conference rooms. "This is a serious offer. One that would be pragmatic for you on both a professional and personal level. You would be able to perform your residency at a renowned medical facility while also staying close to your wife."

Ichigo blinked for a few silent ticks. "You can't just ofter me something like that," he finally snapped. "I could be the worst physician to ever hold a scalpel for all you know."

"I highly doubt that. I have a sense for these things."

"Yeah, and I have a sense for bullshit." Ichigo meant to look mad, he really did, but it was hard when Byakuya stared at him with a perked brow and lips that seem permanently pinched at the sides. He smirked and said, "I'm drunk and you're taking advantage of my crappy judgment. I thought a guy of your social caliber would be better than that, Byakuya."

Byakuya hummed, amused. "You thought wrong. I've been known to use questionable methods when I want something."

"More like evil methods," Ichigo muttered.

There was a giddy heat bubbling up in him, the first signs of something frighteningly inevitable. He folded his arms against his midriff as if to hold it down, but when he finally had the gut to look at Byakuya directly, heat slipped between the fissures of his touching forearms and shot up to fill the dips in his cheeks.

"Thanks Byakuya. I'll consider it."

Byakuya's smile was small, but so very there. So there that it was all Ichigo could think about in his hazy warmth.

"That is all I ask."

Ichigo knew he should've stayed away from midnight fueled decision making as Greek as the blood that ran through Rhea's veins, but that was all life was made up of, wasn't it? Choices we'll never clearly understand until it's too late.

xXx

Sherryfanfic1999: Gurl. Don't we all need our own Byakuya. I'd be alot less stressed out. lol

Tifanny91: Hope you enjoy this chapter, chika! :)

Daddys crazy little bitch: Thanks, love!

gemblack: Sorry for the wait. Thank you for you're patience and support.

Darklight14: I'm glad you're enjoying this, chika.

iamme: Ask and you shall receive. :)