Man, I am good at foreseeing the future apparently. IT'S JUNE! Didn't like this one as much as my other ones,but I do hope you'll enjoy!
The caramel-haired girl walks back into the dreary classroom with a small, silicone smile on her lips. The girl takes her seat and carefully looks around the classroom, as if trying to scope out who saw her and who hadn't. She can't hide it from him.
The red around her eyes, the still-sniffling nose, the tired look she gave him as he neared her in order to assess the situation, it all pointed in one, and only one, direction. One Kurosaki ichigo really wished it didn't, because he wasn't sure if he really wanted to infringe and confront her (if only because he was afraid to).
Inoue Orihime had been crying.
He hated it. He hated it. It reminded him of things he'd rather forget and days he'd rather she'd forget as well. It reminded him of dust and blood and the feel of her eyes on his back, waiting and watching in a small sort of agony. He didn't want to see those eyes anymore, didn't want to be their source any longer. Especially now, now that everything seemed to be calming and she, she was as bright and cheerful as ever.
He couldn't deal with well-hidden sorrow in her smile again. Not anymore. It's the end of school now, and she walks away from him, from Tatsuki, from everyone in a rush to get home, her eyes still red and her nose still sniffling like that is it's only job. He wonders what could have brought her down, what could make her tear up like that. Ichigo, he thinks for a moment he should ask Tatsuki, ask Ryo or someone what's wrong, and how he can help. Because God knows that Tatsuki knows all their secrets now, and she's always been the reliable sort.
But, he realises in a beat, but he can't ask Tatsuki, because Tatsuki is blunt and Tatsuki is loud and she'd probably tell Inoue that Ichigo was worrying about her, which would only serve to make Orihime embarrassed. She's always embarrassed when he tries to help her, whether she knows it or not.
He never cared to ask why, though one day in the future when life plateaus on a sort of normalcy, he will. And she'll tell him all the truth, and they'll, they'll reach an understanding with fingers locked and careless grins on their young mouths.
(It must be noted that that future date was not today.) And so Ichigo is left alone with a concerned frown on his lips, with no plan or the slightest idea of how to cheer her, how to bring that genuine smile back into her round eyes.
He's walking home now, thinking to himself what could be the cause of the terrible problem, and what could be the sneaky solution. Had some girls made fun of her? No, no, not possible. Inoue wouldn't cry, she'd simply take the critism and brush them off. Besides, Ichigo was sure, after all she'd been through, she could handle some stupid, gossiping teens.
Maybe a relative had died? No, not likely. Inoue didn't know many of her relatives well, and he was sure she would tell him in the event one of them was hurt. No, family members wasn't the case...
(The answer should be obvious to him now, but, you know, teenage boys aren't exactly the most perceptive of creatures and Ichigo, Ichigo is no different. The answer twirls around his head like some annoying bug, but he doesn't care to see it. Not yet. For it is family members, but no one said anything about long gone ones.)
Oh man, he had to rack his brains to find a logical answer to his question. Maybe, maybe she was simply experiencing some bad allergies? A headache? No, Inoue wouldn't be frowning in those cases, she would try to smile and brush off everyone, rather than scaring everyone away with her sad expression.
The path before him seems rough, as if the cement hadn't been smoothed to perfection and workers hadn't spend days making sure not a flower grew through the cracks. Ichigo was sure he was almost home, but he stil didn't have an answer or a solution and so, and so in true Kurosaki fashion, he decided to wing it.
Isshin would be proud.
Ichigo knew much about Inoue. He knew her favourite television show, her favourite bands, her favourite colours and her favourite flowers. He knew that, that she loved to go to the library, and she loved playing hide and seek (at the appropiate times) and that she absolutely loved to take late night walks to admire the peacefulness outside.
In fact, he also knew one of her favourite activities. The jungle gym at the park was a favourite sport of hers.
Hm, it all seemed a little easier now, a little more logical.
(You know, he wouldn't admit it now, not even to himself, but Ichigo never exactly followed the norm in regards to love. Hide and seek and playing on jungle gyms seemed perfectly logical from his stand point. Oh well, weird boys always find themselves head over heels for weird girls, don't they?)
Home is not far from him. Without acknowledging his whining father or sometimes bratty sisters, he changes his clothes into something more appropiate for outside. Feeling useless in his house as he waits for the sky to darken, he finds himself doing homework before heading off into the cool, crisp night air.
There's no easy way to invite her, however, no easy way to bring her to him, but he tries. He texts Tatsuki so quickly that most of his words are misspelled and she can't help herself but to laugh at him. Asking her is difficult, because she always makes it so difficult, but he finds a way to anyway. Within a few moments, she send a message telling him its a go, and that Orihime will be at the gate of the park in only fifteen mintues.
Did you ever know that Ichigo is a very punctual young man? No? Well, he is. And he's there, at the gate of the park, exactly on time.
Inoue shows up, wrapped in her scarf and with these little wellington boots on, as it has been fairly wet the last few days and, secretly she just likes wearing them. There's nothing in the world that can prepare her for who greets her there.
Well, you already know. It's just Ichigo. Just Ichigo in his normal clothes, sort of huddled in his comfortable looking jacket, waiting in the cold for her.
She thinks of turning back.
But she won't, because there are forces beyond her control pushing her closer to him, and there is the sense that this, this is where she must be now. If only for a little while.
Greetings and salutations are made, with her nervous eyes avoiding his, and his hands clenching like mad in his jacket. He had, he had never been out with just a girl, not one who trained him, or one that pushed him around but rather, just a friend who was a girl who needed something to comfort her.
Their nervousness was almost tangible to the passersby, who see these two odd-looking teenagers walking in almost sync, not a word between them. They gather that the boy is a deliquent and the girl is his unlucky girlfriend, but such people never really care to learn the truth, do they?
In fact, to the two teens in question, the silence is welcome; a small moment to gather their thoughts, their wits and shedding their nervousness.
The wind is howling, simply howling by them, forcing the two of them to move just a faction of an inch closer to each other. To just barely touch.
He asks her whether she'd like to go on the swings. She answers with a small yes, fighting back the blush on her face with as much force as she can muster. That little half-smile of his that she loves so much reveals itself and before she knows it, before she cares to remember, she's soaring through the air on a swing that seems more and more like the airplane she had always imagined it when Sora was alive.
And there are still those strong hands on her back, pushing her forward and surely to be there were she to fall. Though, Inoue, she can closer her eyes and feel the difference between the hands she remembered and the hands softly pressing on her back now.
Sora's hands had been smooth, sort of stumpy, but nevertheless they had this beautiful elegance to them that she had always envied. His hands had been strong and they had carried her away from pain too many times to count, always with this devotion that she could never forget.
Ichigo's hands were almost the opposite. They were bigger, with larger palms and longer fingers that were made to protect others. His hands were rough, worked, calloused and in a constant state of being bruised. The way they pushed lightly on her back, as if these fearsome fists were terrified of hurting her, spoke of a quiet love and an unchanging devotion, of small looks and this hushed affection. It tells her more than Ichigo ever dreamed he could.
She doesn't tell him of why she was crying, and he doesn't ask, but neither mind. For now, it's just the two of them, on a late night, together.
And so, and so her previous troubles, ones of past and present, they slip from her mind as quickly as they took her earlier that day, leaving the cold, night air filled with her warm laughter and full, beautiful smiles.
You know, he doesn't know exactly what love feels like, but he's thinking, just thinking, that maybe this could be it.
The caramel-haired girl walks back into the dreary classroom with a small, silicone smile on her lips. The girl takes her seat and carefully looks around the classroom, as if trying to scope out who saw her and who hadn't.
She can't hide it from him.
The red around her eyes, the still-sniffling nose, the tired look she gave him as he neared her in order to assess the situation, it all pointed in one, and only one, direction. One Kurosaki ichigo really wished it didn't, because he wasn't sure if he really wanted to infringe and confront her (if only because he was afraid to).
Inoue Orihime had been crying.
He hated it. He hated it. It reminded him of things he'd rather forget and days he'd rather she'd forget as well. It reminded him of dust and blood and the feel of her eyes on his back, waiting and watching in a small sort of agony. He didn't want to see those eyes anymore, didn't want to be their source any longer. Especially now, now that everything seemed to be calming and she, she was as bright and cheerful as ever.
He couldn't deal with well-hidden sorrow in her smile again. Not anymore.
It's the end of school now, and she walks away from him, from Tatsuki, from everyone in a rush to get home, her eyes still red and her nose still sniffling like that is it's only job. He wonders what could have brought her down, what could make her tear up like that. Ichigo, he thinks for a moment he should ask Tatsuki, ask Ryo or someone what's wrong, and how he can help.
Because God knows that Tatsuki knows all their secrets now, and she's always been the reliable sort.
But, he realises in a beat, but he can't ask Tatsuki, because Tatsuki is blunt and Tatsuki is loud and she'd probably tell Inoue that Ichigo was worrying about her, which would only serve to make Orihime embarrassed. She's always embarrassed when he tries to help her, whether she knows it or not.
He never cared to ask why, though one day in the future when life plateaus on a sort of normalcy, he will. And she'll tell him all the truth, and they'll, they'll reach an understanding with fingers locked and careless grins on their young mouths.
(It must be noted that that future date was not today.)
And so Ichigo is left alone with a concerned frown on his lips, with no plan or the slightest idea of how to cheer her, how to bring that genuine smile back into her round eyes.
He's walking home now, thinking to himself what could be the cause of the terrible problem, and what could be the sneaky solution. Had some girls made fun of her? No, no, not possible. Inoue wouldn't cry, she'd simply take the critism and brush them off. Besides, Ichigo was sure, after all she'd been through, she could handle some stupid, gossiping teens.
Maybe a relative had died? No, not likely. Inoue didn't know many of her relatives well, and he was sure she would tell him in the event one of them was hurt. No, family members wasn't the case...
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Oh man, he had to rack his brains to find a logical answer to his question. Maybe, maybe she was simply experiencing some bad allergies? A headache? No, Inoue wouldn't be frowning in those cases, she would try to smile and brush off everyone, rather than scaring everyone away with her sad expression.
The path before him seems rough, as if the cement hadn't been smoothed to perfection and workers hadn't spend days making sure not a flower grew through the cracks. Ichigo was sure he was almost home, but he stil didn't have an answer or a solution and so, and so in true Kurosaki fashion, he decided to wing it.
Isshin would be proud.
Ichigo knew much about Inoue. He knew her favourite television show, her favourite bands, her favourite colours and her favourite flowers. He knew that, that she loved to go to the library, and she loved playing hide and seek (at the appropiate times) and that she absolutely loved to take late night walks to admire the peacefulness outside.
In fact, he also knew one of her favourite activities. The jungle gym at the park was a favourite sport of hers.
Hm, it all seemed a little easier now, a little more logical.
(You know, he wouldn't admit it now, not even to himself, but Ichigo never exactly followed the norm in regards to love. Hide and seek and playing on jungle gyms seemed perfectly logical from his stand point. Oh well, weird boys always find themselves head over heels for weird girls, don't they?)
Home is not far from him. Without acknowledging his whining father or sometimes bratty sisters, he changes his clothes into something more appropiate for outside. Feeling useless in his house as he waits for the sky to darken, he finds himself doing homework before heading off into the cool, crisp night air.
There's no easy way to invite her, however, no easy way to bring her to him, but he tries. He texts Tatsuki so quickly that most of his words are misspelled and she can't help herself but to laugh at him. Asking her is difficult, because she always makes it so difficult, but he finds a way to anyway. Within a few moments, she send a message telling him its a go, and that Orihime will be at the gate of the park in only fifteen mintues.
Did you ever know that Ichigo is a very punctual young man? No? Well, he is. And he's there, at the gate of the park, exactly on time.
Reply
Inoue shows up, wrapped in her scarf and with these little wellington boots on, as it has been fairly wet the last few days and, secretly she just likes wearing them. There's nothing in the world that can prepare her for who greets her there.
Well, you already know. It's just Ichigo. Just Ichigo in his normal clothes, sort of huddled in his comfortable looking jacket, waiting in the cold for her.
She thinks of turning back.
But she won't, because there are forces beyond her control pushing her closer to him, and there is the sense that this, this is where she must be now. If only for a little while.
Greetings and salutations are made, with her nervous eyes avoiding his, and his hands clenching like mad in his jacket. He had, he had never been out with just a girl, not one who trained him, or one that pushed him around but rather, just a friend who was a girl who needed something to comfort her.
Their nervousness was almost tangible to the passersby, who see these two odd-looking teenagers walking in almost sync, not a word between them. They gather that the boy is a deliquent and the girl is his unlucky girlfriend, but such people never really care to learn the truth, do they?
In fact, to the two teens in question, the silence is welcome; a small moment to gather their thoughts, their wits and shedding their nervousness.
The wind is howling, simply howling by them, forcing the two of them to move just a faction of an inch closer to each other. To just barely touch.
He asks her whether she'd like to go on the swings. She answers with a small yes, fighting back the blush on her face with as much force as she can muster. That little half-smile of his that she loves so much reveals itself and before she knows it, before she cares to remember, she's soaring through the air on a swing that seems more and more like the airplane she had always imagined it when Sora was alive.
And there are still those strong hands on her back, pushing her forward and surely to be there were she to fall. Though, Inoue, she can closer her eyes and feel the difference between the hands she remembered and the hands softly pressing on her back now.
Sora's hands had been smooth, sort of stumpy, but nevertheless they had this beautiful elegance to them that she had always envied. His hands had been strong and they had carried her away from pain too many times to count, always with this devotion that she could never forget.
Ichigo's hands were almost the opposite. They were bigger, with larger palms and longer fingers that were made to protect others. His hands were rough, worked, calloused and in a constant state of being bruised. The way they pushed lightly on her back, as if these fearsome fists were terrified of hurting her, spoke of a quiet love and an unchanging devotion, of small looks and this hushed affection. It tells her more than Ichigo ever dreamed he could.
She doesn't tell him of why she was crying, and he doesn't ask, but neither mind. For now, it's just the two of them, on a late night, together.
And so, and so her previous troubles, ones of past and present, they slip from her mind as quickly as they took her earlier that day, leaving the cold, night air filled with her warm laughter and full, beautiful smiles.
You know, he doesn't know exactly what love feels like, but he's thinking, just thinking, that maybe this could be it.
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