Something he can't explain, this feeling, but it's beautiful and he wants more of that feeling, he wants all of it. He wants to be the keeper of those small, subtle smiles she gives that only he notices, he wants to be the one who offers up their shoulders for whatever burden she can't bear alone, from tears to terrible secrets. He wants to stand by her side, to fight for her, to fight with her. He, he wants to give her all he is, to invite her in.
This man, this boy, he can only hope she'd do the same.
Why, he could wait for her forever.
Ichigo, he never thought these type of things before. Never thought that that caramel-haired girl could hold such a huge part of his heart, that her little smiles could make him feel, could make him feel like the world was in his hands. Never before had he thought that a tiny touch from a gentle hand on his shoulder could make his stomach flip, could make his brain just a bit fuzzy. This girl, this girl, she made him into something he never expected, molded him without even knowing it.
But there were problems. There were always problems. He was like one of those American superheroes, those guys who dressed up in ridiculous costumes and told the girls they loved that they simply couldn't be because of their enemies. And they always lost, didn't they? They always ended up with complications, with all this regret when they realised they should have taken their chances. Ichigo, he didn't want to be like that. He didn't want to push her away, to lose her.
Even though those things that had happened to her, those things that hurt her, they were all caused by him. Every pain she faced, every scratch from Soul Society, moment in Hueco Mundo, all because of him and his failures. Constant reminders of how he had been useless.
Besides, how do we know that this, this isn't just some passing inclination and he doesn't just break her heart in the end?
He glances at her again, she's giggling now, with Tatsuki whispering in her ear. Her cheeks are this cheerful flushed colour, those eyes of hers are closed in laughter. He thinks of the moments where a look from her could change everything for him. The fact that a look from her could change everything.
No way in hell is this a passing inclination.
You didn't disobey top orders for a passing inclination. You didn't die for a passing inclination. You didn't use your body to shield a passing inclination. You didn't go to hell and back for a passing inclination. And you definitely didn't turn into a monster to protect a passing inclination.
Surely, you didn't feel like this for a passing inclination, either.
The weirdest thing about her was the way she, she made him feel like everything was worth it when she smiled at him, when she laughed for him, when blushes made her whole face red.
As if it took him this long.
There's not much to say when the bell rings, when his thoughts and interrupted. He's scared, he's so nervous he doesn't know what to do with himself. This is scary, this is terrifying, but none of it is half as bad as those hours he thought she was gone forever. There was no way he could face such a world again.
He can't be like those American superheroes.
His voice is weaker than usual when he asks her to stay a moment with him. He feels like the world is caving around him, like he's the only thing standing anymore, and she's this anchor holding him there. And he's not sure if he'd rather not fall.
His eyes aren't as intent as usual, she notices in a quiet voice. She asks, in that infinitely gentle voice of hers, if anything is wrong with him, and he replies with the quickest of 'no's. Silence reigns supreme between them as he fights through the depths of his mind to find the right words to say, to tell her exactly how he felt.
Patiently, she stands, gazing at him with those eyes of hers, watching his eyebrows furrow even lower, watching him struggle. She asks if he needs help, and her outstretched hand is more than he could ever ask for.
Saying the words, it's far too hard right now, though maybe one day he'll have the strength to do it. But right now, right now, that hand is hovering between them, and he catches it gingerly in the two of his. Just a small connector, the only way to truly express how he felt. He hopes, oh how he hopes that she feels the gentleness with which he holds her there. Ichigo, never one for words when actions could work so much better. And the way she looks down at their connected hands, then back to his eyes over and over again, it tells him that she understands. It tells him that she feels exactly the same.
Class will have started by now, but he can't find it in himself to care.
Because passing inclinations don't feel as wonderful as this does.
(Read: I'm such a sucker for your writing and once again, you have written a magnificient piece that has touched my heart! Please keep on sharing your wonderful gift with the world! (Or just bad_shield~))
This man, this boy, he can only hope she'd do the same.
Why, he could wait for her forever.
Ichigo, he never thought these type of things before. Never thought that that caramel-haired girl could hold such a huge part of his heart, that her little smiles could make him feel, could make him feel like the world was in his hands. Never before had he thought that a tiny touch from a gentle hand on his shoulder could make his stomach flip, could make his brain just a bit fuzzy. This girl, this girl, she made him into something he never expected, molded him without even knowing it.
But there were problems. There were always problems. He was like one of those American superheroes, those guys who dressed up in ridiculous costumes and told the girls they loved that they simply couldn't be because of their enemies. And they always lost, didn't they? They always ended up with complications, with all this regret when they realised they should have taken their chances. Ichigo, he didn't want to be like that. He didn't want to push her away, to lose her.
Even though those things that had happened to her, those things that hurt her, they were all caused by him. Every pain she faced, every scratch from Soul Society, moment in Hueco Mundo, all because of him and his failures. Constant reminders of how he had been useless.
Besides, how do we know that this, this isn't just some passing inclination and he doesn't just break her heart in the end?
He glances at her again, she's giggling now, with Tatsuki whispering in her ear. Her cheeks are this cheerful flushed colour, those eyes of hers are closed in laughter. He thinks of the moments where a look from her could change everything for him. The fact that a look from her could change everything.
No way in hell is this a passing inclination.
You didn't disobey top orders for a passing inclination. You didn't die for a passing inclination. You didn't use your body to shield a passing inclination. You didn't go to hell and back for a passing inclination. And you definitely didn't turn into a monster to protect a passing inclination.
Surely, you didn't feel like this for a passing inclination, either.
The weirdest thing about her was the way she, she made him feel like everything was worth it when she smiled at him, when she laughed for him, when blushes made her whole face red.
As if it took him this long.
There's not much to say when the bell rings, when his thoughts and interrupted. He's scared, he's so nervous he doesn't know what to do with himself. This is scary, this is terrifying, but none of it is half as bad as those hours he thought she was gone forever. There was no way he could face such a world again.
He can't be like those American superheroes.
His voice is weaker than usual when he asks her to stay a moment with him. He feels like the world is caving around him, like he's the only thing standing anymore, and she's this anchor holding him there. And he's not sure if he'd rather not fall.
His eyes aren't as intent as usual, she notices in a quiet voice. She asks, in that infinitely gentle voice of hers, if anything is wrong with him, and he replies with the quickest of 'no's. Silence reigns supreme between them as he fights through the depths of his mind to find the right words to say, to tell her exactly how he felt.
Patiently, she stands, gazing at him with those eyes of hers, watching his eyebrows furrow even lower, watching him struggle. She asks if he needs help, and her outstretched hand is more than he could ever ask for.
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Saying the words, it's far too hard right now, though maybe one day he'll have the strength to do it. But right now, right now, that hand is hovering between them, and he catches it gingerly in the two of his. Just a small connector, the only way to truly express how he felt. He hopes, oh how he hopes that she feels the gentleness with which he holds her there. Ichigo, never one for words when actions could work so much better. And the way she looks down at their connected hands, then back to his eyes over and over again, it tells him that she understands. It tells him that she feels exactly the same.
Class will have started by now, but he can't find it in himself to care.
Because passing inclinations don't feel as wonderful as this does.
Reply
(Read: I'm such a sucker for your writing and once again, you have written a magnificient piece that has touched my heart! Please keep on sharing your wonderful gift with the world! (Or just bad_shield~))
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(Thank you so much! Seriously, your words are so meaningful to me, thank you <3 I'm so glad you liked it, even though it's atrociously late!)
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