Tentatively sitting himself in her spot, he couldn’t help but feel heat tug at his cheeks while thinking, I should not be sitting here. It was so much different in her spot, he noted. While he sat in the middle of the crowded classroom, surrounded by so many other classmates, Orihime had gotten lucky and sat next to the window, where he openly admitted was much more relaxing. Not to mention she could really do anything in this spot and more than likely get away with it.
Ichigo rolled his eyes, letting the whole thought process on her location in the classroom float away so it could be quickly replaced with that nagging curiosity over the notebook again. Letting his hands drift over the red cover for a moment, he mentally asked himself if it was really alright to be digging through her stuff like this. She was the last person he’d want to upset because he didn’t ask for permission, but on the other hand... He hadn’t been able to talk to her all that often, all because of this darn little book, and he admittedly missed hearing her babble on about the most random things. After not being able to talk to her, he figured the least he deserved was to see just a bit of what she was so obsessed with.
Swallowing thickly and taking a mental step of courage, he opened the front cover and unknowingly held his breath. If anything, he assumed it was for school, but Ichigo was surprised to see a practically blank page, aside with one word scrawled onto the first page.
Beloved.
It was a simple word, yet for some odd reason, it only intrigued him further. Why would she write one single word, and that word of all of them, for that matter? She was a kind, gentle person, but the notion of her writing something about ‘beloved’ made him wonder what she was doing with this notebook.
There were many used, written on pages following that first, and even though the guilt nagged at him for even daring to look at it in the first place, Kurosaki Ichigo flipped to the next page, determined to read the rest.
---
Tatsuki had gone home long ago, which made it all that much easier for Orihime to tear her apartment apart. Why, may one person ask? She wasn’t a person to randomly rip apart her home, but she had a reason. It was a very good reason; and it was because she couldn’t find her rough draft copy of her manuscript.
She had to stop her search and rescue for a moment to flick on the nearby light. The sun was setting and the rooms were getting dark. She very well couldn’t have looked for her precious notebook in the dark.
That notebook was precious for more reasons than one. To start, it was something Orihime had started on a whim - a novel; romantic one, at that. She thought she’d try writing out romance, something she’d daydreamed about before (suspiciously about a redheaded shinigami). At first, she merely put her ideas with different characters, but after a while, it became filled with her own hopes and dreams, all behind a fictional name to hide the real truth. Should one of her friends, or heaven forbid, Ichigo, stumble upon her writing, she felt she’d need to crawl into a hole and never come out due to embarrassment.
This was why she was tearing apart her apartment in desperation to find the book. She could’ve sworn she had grabbed it with the rest of her textbooks as she left school earlier, but now she doubted herself. And if she recalled even further, wasn’t Ichigo still in the room when she left? Oh dear, what if he found it and read through it all? He was a smart person and no doubt he’d easily be able to distinguish himself with her in her writing.
A loud knock to her door sent her heart racing, faster than it was before at the idea of Ichigo finding her book. Jumping to her feet, Orihime practically ran to the door, throwing it open while forcing a smile. “H-hello!” She chirped, appearing enthusiastic at first, but once she realized who it was, her face fell.
Ichigo rolled his eyes, letting the whole thought process on her location in the classroom float away so it could be quickly replaced with that nagging curiosity over the notebook again. Letting his hands drift over the red cover for a moment, he mentally asked himself if it was really alright to be digging through her stuff like this. She was the last person he’d want to upset because he didn’t ask for permission, but on the other hand... He hadn’t been able to talk to her all that often, all because of this darn little book, and he admittedly missed hearing her babble on about the most random things. After not being able to talk to her, he figured the least he deserved was to see just a bit of what she was so obsessed with.
Swallowing thickly and taking a mental step of courage, he opened the front cover and unknowingly held his breath. If anything, he assumed it was for school, but Ichigo was surprised to see a practically blank page, aside with one word scrawled onto the first page.
Beloved.
It was a simple word, yet for some odd reason, it only intrigued him further. Why would she write one single word, and that word of all of them, for that matter? She was a kind, gentle person, but the notion of her writing something about ‘beloved’ made him wonder what she was doing with this notebook.
There were many used, written on pages following that first, and even though the guilt nagged at him for even daring to look at it in the first place, Kurosaki Ichigo flipped to the next page, determined to read the rest.
---
Tatsuki had gone home long ago, which made it all that much easier for Orihime to tear her apartment apart. Why, may one person ask? She wasn’t a person to randomly rip apart her home, but she had a reason. It was a very good reason; and it was because she couldn’t find her rough draft copy of her manuscript.
She had to stop her search and rescue for a moment to flick on the nearby light. The sun was setting and the rooms were getting dark. She very well couldn’t have looked for her precious notebook in the dark.
That notebook was precious for more reasons than one. To start, it was something Orihime had started on a whim - a novel; romantic one, at that. She thought she’d try writing out romance, something she’d daydreamed about before (suspiciously about a redheaded shinigami). At first, she merely put her ideas with different characters, but after a while, it became filled with her own hopes and dreams, all behind a fictional name to hide the real truth. Should one of her friends, or heaven forbid, Ichigo, stumble upon her writing, she felt she’d need to crawl into a hole and never come out due to embarrassment.
This was why she was tearing apart her apartment in desperation to find the book. She could’ve sworn she had grabbed it with the rest of her textbooks as she left school earlier, but now she doubted herself. And if she recalled even further, wasn’t Ichigo still in the room when she left? Oh dear, what if he found it and read through it all? He was a smart person and no doubt he’d easily be able to distinguish himself with her in her writing.
A loud knock to her door sent her heart racing, faster than it was before at the idea of Ichigo finding her book. Jumping to her feet, Orihime practically ran to the door, throwing it open while forcing a smile. “H-hello!” She chirped, appearing enthusiastic at first, but once she realized who it was, her face fell.
Ichigo, with a red notebook in his right hand.
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