[AIM Log] [Ichigo + Orihime] [Bullets] [Closed]
[Rated PG.]
Badass. Usually he couldn't help rolling his eyes, leaning over with a bit of sarcastic commentary about the cliché of whatever plot some movie was trying to resurrect, but the return to Hong Kong cinema? Fuckin' sweet. Everything had been rendered into a curiously amoral ballet of gun flashes, intrigue, and red sprays of blood. Plus, the chick was kinda hot. Couldn't go wrong with the hot asian chicks who picked up an automatic rifle and went to town. He knew that the weight of a gun in one's palm was a heavy, seductive thing.
Ichigo rolled off the quilted coverlet and hit the eject button on his computer, waiting impatiently before a gleaming DVD slid out of the side-slit of the laptop. He stuck his index finger through the hole in the middle, and carried it dutifully back to the DVD case. "You like that?" he called back over his shoulder, snapping the plastic hinges shut. "Fuckin' Andy Lau, man. What a psycho in that flick."
For once, Orihime seemed absolutely speechless.
This moment passed in almost an instant.
“That was like the COOLEST MOVIE EVER.” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “I need to find my own copy! I wonder if Tatsuki has seen it? Thank you for sharing it with me Ichigo!” she went on to her usual babble after a movie she liked, remembering her favorite parts or lines, forgetting for a few minutes her apprehension when first coming over. After her review though, thoughts of her conversation with Rukia surfaced once more, refusing to be forgotten. ‘Do you really think ignorance is bliss? Even if it hurts, wouldn't you rather know you had a choice?’
The redheaded girl shifted in place, tugging her skirt down farther over her legs to fidget with the fabric while she tried to think of a way to breach the subject.
He hadn't seen a number of his friends for--quite some time. A malingering guilt suggested that it was probably because he'd been spending more of his precious little free time with Rukia, but in reality, most of that time was sleeping. Everyone operated on different schedules these days.
So when the movie (which seriously was KICKASS) elicited some of the usual Orihime enthusiasm he hadn't really seen nor heard from in awhile, it was kinda refreshing. Even if he did have a bunch of homework sitting like a goddamn thundercloud over his head. That, and the fact that he was really supposed to perform tomorrow. None of last week's dumbass stunts (even if they somehow worked out). But it wasn't like he'd kick her out or something.
Ichigo tossed the DVD case on the night stand (cinder blocks, a slab of wood) and slumped back over on the bed, hands slung haphazardly behind his head. Finger-linked pillow. "I bet Tatsuki's seen it--be pretty fuckin' surprised if she hadn't. She's the one who got me into all that Hong Kong cinema nonsense awhile back." A sideways grin (almost breaking through the perpetual scowl). "But what've you been doin', 'Hime? I ain't seen you or her in awhile."
Drawing her knees up to her chest, Orihime smiled down at Ichigo. The small smile that was only for him, though he’d never know it. She thought of all the different things she could use as an excuse to leave, but seeing Ichigo so relaxed and easygoing just made her feel too lightheaded to trust her ability to walk, sometimes.
In a way, she was quite glad he hadn’t noticed she was somewhat avoiding him last week to try and get her head together (failed, but a noble try none the less).
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, and when that failed she re-pinned it back with one of her flower hairpins while she answered. “Tatsuki’s been super busy with school, and I’ve been working a lot. Though we went camping one night and that was fun, the stars really are pretty outside of the city.”
Hadn't he just been talking about leaving? Unless you walked down to the far end of the river (not a place anyone should be visiting alone), the stars faded into the wash of light pollution from the city. Kinda funny how pollution really made the sky look like a watercolor painting: a wash of color bleeding into the horizon. If nothing else, at least track was an excuse to drive out of the city on a bus every weekend and run somewhere a little less--heavy. "Camping!?! When the fuck did you cats go camping?"
Ichigo did, of course, make the assumption that they had really gone camping for real--not some half brained adventure out on the roof that involved making forts and setting traps for rabid animals. He shook his head, spikes of hair mushing along his fingers as it turned. "Well, glad you guys got out, at any rate. No one knows how to slow down around here." Sakura, case in point. Maybe it was his job to make sure they all had that luxury of doing so.
While normally Orihime would start up on how they went to Skull Island in search of the legendary beast, she just smiled and said, “About a week ago. Just one night... I felt like getting out.” And blessed Tatsuki went with her. Orihime could honestly say she was not sure she’d be able to survive without the other girl in her life.
“It helped me forget about some things for a while. A- a friend of mine is having problems recently.” Right. A friend was having problems. Not her, Orihime never had problems save for running out of orange juice.
A so-called friend of Orihime's could have been anyone. And thus, it didn't throw him at all. "Sucks," he remarked. Terse, maybe, but he could relate. Everyone could relate. WHO DIDN'T HAVE PROBLEMS? Heh. "You worry too much, yanno." Amber eyes slanted from ceiling to girl. "S'not like that's any new conversational topic but, you can't let everyone else's problems ruin your life."
Hypocrite. "You're entitled to be selfish every once in awhile. S'human nature." Shifting around, Ichigo unlaced his fingers and set his shoulder blades square against the wall his bed (somehow) sat flush against. Seriously, he didn't get chicks sometimes. Just five minutes prior, she'd been lit up in the muzzle-flash of the gun fights, and now, her entire expression had metamorphosed into something almost somber. And that was something Ichigo wasn't accustomed to seeing. Another twist of his torso, and he managed to throw his arm around her. Comforting, he hoped. "Your friend okay now and shit?"
Orihime leaned heavily against Ichigo’s side, and she couldn’t help but wonder... did Rukia sit like this with him now all the time? Was it just a given she’d be so close to him when they were together, not just as an act of comforting a friend? She felt like a thief, taking this affection under false pretenses, but that wasn’t enough to make her move away.
“Not really.” Orihime answered, worrying at her bottom lip, something she’d been doing all too often recently. How would she say this? All at once, it dawned on her.
She’d tell Ichigo about her friend’s problems. She’d just neglect to mention that friend was Rukia.
“But! You’re a guy in a relationship, maybe you can help with some insight?” she asked hopefully, looking up at Ichigo and even managing to hold down most of her blush.
A guy in a relationship. Sounded so fucking weird. Wasn't everyone in their own kind of relationship with other people? Life was politics, governed by the interplay of that person with this one. Why did people have to stick labels on them? One relationship wasn't more important than another (liar)--things were just different. Truth be told, her syntax had him shifting uncomfortably, but he tried to play it off as a single, catlike stretch, and then roll his shoulders into a shrug. Tilted his head.
"Doesn't mean I got it all figured out, yanno," he offered by way of disclaimer (because if anything, things were WAY more confusing NOW). A heavy exhalation slipped by his lips. "Your friend's got 'relationship' problems?"
“It isn’t so much an expert opinion I need as just... an opinion in general, from someone with a better idea of what it’s like to be in that situation. The problem isn’t in the relationship, it just relates to it.” Orihime clarified, hoping she was making some kind of sense now, because things were no doubt going to get a lot more confusing.
She took a breath, and began to recount the issue. No, this wasn’t about her. Not at all. She was talking about someone else entirely, and just wanted to help them. Keeping that in mind, her words flowed easily as they always did.
“This friend of mine, she’s in a relationship with a boy she’s really in love with, and he’s really into her, too. Things are going great between them, at least as far as I can tell. Anyway, the problem comes in with another friend of his... this other girl, she’s loved him too for the longest time, but he has no idea. My friend does know, though.” The café, that night, Orihime willed herself an outsider to this event, merely an observer. “There’s no danger to this other girl’s feelings - he only thinks of her as a friend and she just wants him to be happy, so she decided to not tell him how she felt, even though it hurts her still so much inside when she sees the two of them together, and how he always spends all his time with my friend now. But it’s a pain she can deal with, that’s she’d rather deal with than risk hurting him by putting him on the spot and confessing her feelings. Even so, my friend thinks she should still tell him, because he has a right to know, and it would be more upsetting to unknowingly hurt someone.”
Another breath, Orihime looked up to Ichigo again, hazel eyes meeting his, searching for something. A part of her quietly begged him to put the pieces together, to figure it out and guess the truth, while another part was telling the rest of her to be quiet before she said any more, that she’d already given too much away.
“...Guess it’d just be a whole lot easier if they could know for certain if he’d rather just have the unconditional friendship she gives him, or know why it’s unconditional.”
Another breath. Orihime laughed. “OH WOW that sounds really depressing when I say it aloud! It isn’t as bad as it sounds!” ‘Please, don’t figure it out. It’s better this way I know it is.’
He started out listening attentively, free hand working at a knot on that same side of his shoulder. Then again, it started out pretty generic--that whole textbook romance kind of crap they liked to throw all over the chick flicks in absolutely predictable ways. Like a mad lib--just fill in the names, the situation, a few adjectives, and BAM. And so he nodded accordingly as the words kept coming, tried to figure out what the fuck kind of insight she wanted and then--
A pause. His fingers stopped flexing. Froze. Orihime had a tendency to over explain any and all situations, but her tone of voice, the manner in which she spoke (with a desperate edge hanging off each syllable) gave him considerable pause. Who would Orihime be close with that he didn't know that was in a relationship like that? Nobody in the fucking building. Except. Except...
Ichigo stilled. Except that Rukia didn't love him. She was too smart for that, right? It was as though a slow rigor mortis had crept into his limbs unannounced, unproceeded by death. Orihime'd stopped talking by this point in time, made a half-flailing excuse about basically ignoring what she'd said altogether (what is she asking me, what is she asking), and seemed to be content with staring. Expectantly? Her eyes were like a goddamn loaded question. Lips parted, as though to speak, but a choking sensation spread like fire from chest to throat.
"Orihime," he managed in a half-strangled gasp. Maybe it sounded more solid than it felt. Either way, Ichigo didn't dare move one way or another, as though something might betray him. Was he supposed to pretend? Was he imagining all of this? No. No fucking way. "Y-your...your friends. They uh, they--" stomach feeling eerily similar to that flu he'd caught last year "--they love me?" Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuck. "HIM. Him." On the verge of maybe decomposing into the bed, yelling, throwing up, Ichigo pointedly attempted not to meet her eyes, tried to just watch from his periphery and study his blanket, her skirt. Because it didn't make any sense. Any of it.
He didn't know what to do with his hands.
"It's okay, Ichigo." The soft words left her throat unbidden, a natural reaction to seeing Ichigo upset. She didn't feel quite numb, weightless perhaps. Like any moment she would dissolve into vapor and just vanish in the heat.
"It's okay." She repeated, weightless but oh so heavy, she couldn't lift her head to look at him. Couldn't bear to see any number of things she knew she'd find if she looked in his eyes. Carefully, she took one of his hands between her own, gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. Physical assurances always helped her, did they help others the same way? "It doesn't really matter, anyway. It's a silly thing to be so worried about. As long as he's happy with my friend, as long as they can be happy together, that's what's important. So, please. Forget I asked."
For the first time in a long time, Orihime felt like she could breathe. Even so, she knew she'd rather choke on all her unsaid words if letting them fly so freely hurt Ichigo this way.
What, precisely, was okay? Or rather, what wasn't okay? He left a string of words dangling off the tip of his tongue, and then forced himself to blink hard, lick the syllables off, onto his teeth instead. He should move, maybe, propel himself in one direction or another. Had to keep moving. Anything that halted forward momentum was dangerous (but that's selfish, Kurosaki, not if what she's sayin' is true and you never fuckin' noticed).
That nauseous upwelling again. Guilt? Fear? Any other guy would've offered up the threesome idea at this point, but even mentioning it, he thought, might poison something entirely. And he didn't quite think he could do it anyway. He glanced up from his studious examination (blank glare) of his jeans, saw only the heavy fringe of his orange eyelashes, and then snapped his head back up (eye to eye, windows to souls). Ran his tongue along the flat edge of his top teeth again. "How long."
'Does it matter?' the too-cynical question was crushed instantly, even if she didn't mean it as an attack it would sound one and she didn't want to give the impression she was angry with him. Ichigo didn't need that. Ichigo didn't need her selfishness more than he already had to deal with today.
Orihime shrugged, keeping her eyes on the oriental flower print of her skirt. Peach blossoms, it was one of her favorites. Would she ever be able to wear it again after today? 'You owe Ichigo an answer.'
"...I don't know. I can't really think of a time when I didn't." Since the start, seeing Ichigo made her heart beat just a little faster in her chest. When was it that she realized how much she looked forward to seeing him next, hearing him greet her? It felt like hundreds of years ago and Orihime could no longer accurately guess the time when it progressed too far for her to turn back from, if there was ever a moment to escape.
His brow furrowed into a crease that'd likely be near to permanent at the rate he was going. Seven years. Seven years. How many times had he been repeating that to himself over and over again? And he'd met her prior, hadn't he, at some thing that Tatsuki might have dragged him to. In his periphery, always the periphery. That'd he'd never realized after so long--he startled himself with the sharp report of pain from his lip. The inner corner was scabbing over anyway (too much on his mind), and now he'd bled it again. Awesome.
Ichigo swallowed. Tried to swish the copper taste out of his mouth. In all honesty, he'd never even entertained the possibility that Orihime... He knew this feeling. That feeling. Oh fuck it--his thoughts weren't quite making sense. She'd been far more selfless than he'd ever dreamed of being. All she'd ever done was make sure she'd been there--and had he ever given pause to really make sure she was actually happy?
"..."
When the tight feeling pinching his ribs together propelled him forward, he leaned close enough that he had to touch her face with his free hand in order to steady the both of them. To really look at her eyes. I'm sorry. But she'd never said a thing.
Orihime was startled out of her thoughts at Ichigo's sudden closeness, startled by suddenly meeting his eyes and being unable to look away. Did he hate her? Was he angry with her? She would certainly understand it if he was, here she was, forcing her feelings upon him when he probably had enough trouble already. He had a track thing tomorrow, didn't he? He didn't need this tonight.
She was surprised again to not see anger there at all. And so she smiled for him. The small, shy smile that was only for Ichigo, and let one of her hands come up to cover his as it gently touched her face.
"It's okay, Ichigo." she whispered again, hoping somehow to soothe the turmoil of emotions inside of him. "Please don't be upset?"
"..." Nothing. All her words trailed into a lingering quiet. Oh fuck. This kinda shit wasn't supposed to happen, and especially not to him. Not when he didn't deserve it. Love? But...why? To ask that kind of thing would be an insult. Adding insult to injury. Ichigo thought he could literally feel the blood drain from his face when she laid her hand over his (smooth). Was this the part where he was supposed to give her what she wanted?
Jaw working (teeth maybe grinding for an instant, not knowing what to do, how to move), he managed finally--"Ain't upset," quiet, "ain't nothin' to be upset about." Lie. "But I don't know what it is, and why it's okay." Just keep talking. Keep something going.
Ichigo didn't quite like the places and times in which his silence prevailed.
"I'm okay." Orihime clarified, filling the empty space with words that for once had meaning, not bothering to tell him to not lie to her. "This is okay. Nothing has to change, Ichigo." and she desperately hoped that they wouldn't. Sure, it might make her a little sick every time she saw Rukia and Ichigo flirting blatantly in public, but she wasn't sure what she'd do to have him completely removed from her life.
What if he needed her and she couldn't be there?
She'd gotten through the death of her brother, she could certainly get through this. 'This too shall pass.'
"...Thanks," he murmured, gruffly, swinging his chin just a few degrees to the left to avoid her gaze this time. Still didn't know what to think. This, clearly, was going to take awhile to really make sense--maybe it wouldn't. Certainly, it was too early to pass judgment on what was obvious, because shit definitely wasn't fucking obvious if he had been so goddamn blind the whole time. Does. Not. Computer.
Wasn't the right time for questions either. No why didn't you say anything ever, what do you want me to do, did she really say that to you, didn't you think you were wasting your time?
Before he drew his hand away, as gently as he could manage (hoping, fervently, that their fingers wouldn't tangle), he pressed his lips to where they fell first--high on the opposite cheekbone. Not quite chaste, not quite anything it could have been had they landed 90 degrees southwest. Just solid, which, he supposed, was all he'd ever tried to be anyway (failed?). "Sorry." It was really all he had to give.
As perhaps trivial or halfhearted as the simple act seemed to Ichigo, for Orihime it was enough to make her heart stop, her whole world narrowing to that one moment in time that she'd never be able to forget even if she tried. Feeling her face heat, she tried to keep herself from thinking how silly she must look -- bright red hair and now bright red face.
"...Nothing to be sorry about." Orihime finally said when she found her breath to speak again. Acknowledgment of her feelings. The small, simple acts of kindness. More than she'd ever expected to receive from him. She knew it was time to go, but had one more thing to do. Taking what might be her last chance to show affection for him again, Orihime threw her arms around his shoulders and captured him in a tight embrace.
"I told Rukia to take care of you, so... if she doesn't, just let me know and she'll have the Saw-Scaled Viper to deal with." Orihime's voice was strong again, resolution behind the almost whimsical promise. This would be enough.
Her sudden movement startled him. Even for someone acting and reacting on split-second instinct most of the time anyway, he just...it was hard to know what to expect. And so he allowed the tight enclosure of her arms, suffered the choke of guilt her words implied, and then, then, extricated himself from her arms. He needed to breathe. He needed to run.
She told Rukia. Then what had Rukia said? Rukia had wanted him to know this? Why? Was she that sick of him already? Was she--was this... With a grim air (perhaps more reluctantly forlorn), Ichigo eased his weight off the sagging mattress and stood. "I...gotta get to sleep, 'Hime," true, though he probably wouldn't find it coming easy, "since I got the meet tomorrow an' all."
'You were never mine. Not for even a single second.'
Orihime smiled, standing and brushing off her skirt. She didn't think she'd wear it again. "Goodnight Ichigo." she said, voice barely above a whisper. "...I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you. That was something I never wanted." Maybe someday he could accept her apology.
She made her way to the door, and idly wondered if she even would have to open it, or if she would dissolve into vapor first.
"S'fine, 'Hime." Ichigo palmed the back of his his head, worrying the orange tufts of hair with his fingers. He tried not to pull on it noticeably. "I ain't hurt. Don't worry about me." A pause, as he watched her retreating figure, the wan smile. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. After the meet."
Though her back was to him, she could hear the smile and returned it with one of her own, before giving him a thumbs-up. "I think you can do it this time! I'll be rooting for you, Ichigo!"
Only when she reached the door and was almost out did she turn to look at him again, expression very serious as her hand rested on the door frame. "Remember to get lots of sleep and eat a good breakfast and don't go out when it's still dark, you could be eaten by a Grue." Sometimes Orihime didn't know why she said the things she did. Most of the time it was because reality was too boring, too depressing, why not look at the world in a fun and interesting way? Other times, simply because she could think of nothing else to say and just couldn't stand the silence.
Her goodnight already said, Orihime shut the door behind her as she left.
Badass. Usually he couldn't help rolling his eyes, leaning over with a bit of sarcastic commentary about the cliché of whatever plot some movie was trying to resurrect, but the return to Hong Kong cinema? Fuckin' sweet. Everything had been rendered into a curiously amoral ballet of gun flashes, intrigue, and red sprays of blood. Plus, the chick was kinda hot. Couldn't go wrong with the hot asian chicks who picked up an automatic rifle and went to town. He knew that the weight of a gun in one's palm was a heavy, seductive thing.
Ichigo rolled off the quilted coverlet and hit the eject button on his computer, waiting impatiently before a gleaming DVD slid out of the side-slit of the laptop. He stuck his index finger through the hole in the middle, and carried it dutifully back to the DVD case. "You like that?" he called back over his shoulder, snapping the plastic hinges shut. "Fuckin' Andy Lau, man. What a psycho in that flick."
For once, Orihime seemed absolutely speechless.
This moment passed in almost an instant.
“That was like the COOLEST MOVIE EVER.” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “I need to find my own copy! I wonder if Tatsuki has seen it? Thank you for sharing it with me Ichigo!” she went on to her usual babble after a movie she liked, remembering her favorite parts or lines, forgetting for a few minutes her apprehension when first coming over. After her review though, thoughts of her conversation with Rukia surfaced once more, refusing to be forgotten. ‘Do you really think ignorance is bliss? Even if it hurts, wouldn't you rather know you had a choice?’
The redheaded girl shifted in place, tugging her skirt down farther over her legs to fidget with the fabric while she tried to think of a way to breach the subject.
He hadn't seen a number of his friends for--quite some time. A malingering guilt suggested that it was probably because he'd been spending more of his precious little free time with Rukia, but in reality, most of that time was sleeping. Everyone operated on different schedules these days.
So when the movie (which seriously was KICKASS) elicited some of the usual Orihime enthusiasm he hadn't really seen nor heard from in awhile, it was kinda refreshing. Even if he did have a bunch of homework sitting like a goddamn thundercloud over his head. That, and the fact that he was really supposed to perform tomorrow. None of last week's dumbass stunts (even if they somehow worked out). But it wasn't like he'd kick her out or something.
Ichigo tossed the DVD case on the night stand (cinder blocks, a slab of wood) and slumped back over on the bed, hands slung haphazardly behind his head. Finger-linked pillow. "I bet Tatsuki's seen it--be pretty fuckin' surprised if she hadn't. She's the one who got me into all that Hong Kong cinema nonsense awhile back." A sideways grin (almost breaking through the perpetual scowl). "But what've you been doin', 'Hime? I ain't seen you or her in awhile."
Drawing her knees up to her chest, Orihime smiled down at Ichigo. The small smile that was only for him, though he’d never know it. She thought of all the different things she could use as an excuse to leave, but seeing Ichigo so relaxed and easygoing just made her feel too lightheaded to trust her ability to walk, sometimes.
In a way, she was quite glad he hadn’t noticed she was somewhat avoiding him last week to try and get her head together (failed, but a noble try none the less).
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, and when that failed she re-pinned it back with one of her flower hairpins while she answered. “Tatsuki’s been super busy with school, and I’ve been working a lot. Though we went camping one night and that was fun, the stars really are pretty outside of the city.”
Hadn't he just been talking about leaving? Unless you walked down to the far end of the river (not a place anyone should be visiting alone), the stars faded into the wash of light pollution from the city. Kinda funny how pollution really made the sky look like a watercolor painting: a wash of color bleeding into the horizon. If nothing else, at least track was an excuse to drive out of the city on a bus every weekend and run somewhere a little less--heavy. "Camping!?! When the fuck did you cats go camping?"
Ichigo did, of course, make the assumption that they had really gone camping for real--not some half brained adventure out on the roof that involved making forts and setting traps for rabid animals. He shook his head, spikes of hair mushing along his fingers as it turned. "Well, glad you guys got out, at any rate. No one knows how to slow down around here." Sakura, case in point. Maybe it was his job to make sure they all had that luxury of doing so.
While normally Orihime would start up on how they went to Skull Island in search of the legendary beast, she just smiled and said, “About a week ago. Just one night... I felt like getting out.” And blessed Tatsuki went with her. Orihime could honestly say she was not sure she’d be able to survive without the other girl in her life.
“It helped me forget about some things for a while. A- a friend of mine is having problems recently.” Right. A friend was having problems. Not her, Orihime never had problems save for running out of orange juice.
A so-called friend of Orihime's could have been anyone. And thus, it didn't throw him at all. "Sucks," he remarked. Terse, maybe, but he could relate. Everyone could relate. WHO DIDN'T HAVE PROBLEMS? Heh. "You worry too much, yanno." Amber eyes slanted from ceiling to girl. "S'not like that's any new conversational topic but, you can't let everyone else's problems ruin your life."
Hypocrite. "You're entitled to be selfish every once in awhile. S'human nature." Shifting around, Ichigo unlaced his fingers and set his shoulder blades square against the wall his bed (somehow) sat flush against. Seriously, he didn't get chicks sometimes. Just five minutes prior, she'd been lit up in the muzzle-flash of the gun fights, and now, her entire expression had metamorphosed into something almost somber. And that was something Ichigo wasn't accustomed to seeing. Another twist of his torso, and he managed to throw his arm around her. Comforting, he hoped. "Your friend okay now and shit?"
Orihime leaned heavily against Ichigo’s side, and she couldn’t help but wonder... did Rukia sit like this with him now all the time? Was it just a given she’d be so close to him when they were together, not just as an act of comforting a friend? She felt like a thief, taking this affection under false pretenses, but that wasn’t enough to make her move away.
“Not really.” Orihime answered, worrying at her bottom lip, something she’d been doing all too often recently. How would she say this? All at once, it dawned on her.
She’d tell Ichigo about her friend’s problems. She’d just neglect to mention that friend was Rukia.
“But! You’re a guy in a relationship, maybe you can help with some insight?” she asked hopefully, looking up at Ichigo and even managing to hold down most of her blush.
A guy in a relationship. Sounded so fucking weird. Wasn't everyone in their own kind of relationship with other people? Life was politics, governed by the interplay of that person with this one. Why did people have to stick labels on them? One relationship wasn't more important than another (liar)--things were just different. Truth be told, her syntax had him shifting uncomfortably, but he tried to play it off as a single, catlike stretch, and then roll his shoulders into a shrug. Tilted his head.
"Doesn't mean I got it all figured out, yanno," he offered by way of disclaimer (because if anything, things were WAY more confusing NOW). A heavy exhalation slipped by his lips. "Your friend's got 'relationship' problems?"
“It isn’t so much an expert opinion I need as just... an opinion in general, from someone with a better idea of what it’s like to be in that situation. The problem isn’t in the relationship, it just relates to it.” Orihime clarified, hoping she was making some kind of sense now, because things were no doubt going to get a lot more confusing.
She took a breath, and began to recount the issue. No, this wasn’t about her. Not at all. She was talking about someone else entirely, and just wanted to help them. Keeping that in mind, her words flowed easily as they always did.
“This friend of mine, she’s in a relationship with a boy she’s really in love with, and he’s really into her, too. Things are going great between them, at least as far as I can tell. Anyway, the problem comes in with another friend of his... this other girl, she’s loved him too for the longest time, but he has no idea. My friend does know, though.” The café, that night, Orihime willed herself an outsider to this event, merely an observer. “There’s no danger to this other girl’s feelings - he only thinks of her as a friend and she just wants him to be happy, so she decided to not tell him how she felt, even though it hurts her still so much inside when she sees the two of them together, and how he always spends all his time with my friend now. But it’s a pain she can deal with, that’s she’d rather deal with than risk hurting him by putting him on the spot and confessing her feelings. Even so, my friend thinks she should still tell him, because he has a right to know, and it would be more upsetting to unknowingly hurt someone.”
Another breath, Orihime looked up to Ichigo again, hazel eyes meeting his, searching for something. A part of her quietly begged him to put the pieces together, to figure it out and guess the truth, while another part was telling the rest of her to be quiet before she said any more, that she’d already given too much away.
“...Guess it’d just be a whole lot easier if they could know for certain if he’d rather just have the unconditional friendship she gives him, or know why it’s unconditional.”
Another breath. Orihime laughed. “OH WOW that sounds really depressing when I say it aloud! It isn’t as bad as it sounds!” ‘Please, don’t figure it out. It’s better this way I know it is.’
He started out listening attentively, free hand working at a knot on that same side of his shoulder. Then again, it started out pretty generic--that whole textbook romance kind of crap they liked to throw all over the chick flicks in absolutely predictable ways. Like a mad lib--just fill in the names, the situation, a few adjectives, and BAM. And so he nodded accordingly as the words kept coming, tried to figure out what the fuck kind of insight she wanted and then--
A pause. His fingers stopped flexing. Froze. Orihime had a tendency to over explain any and all situations, but her tone of voice, the manner in which she spoke (with a desperate edge hanging off each syllable) gave him considerable pause. Who would Orihime be close with that he didn't know that was in a relationship like that? Nobody in the fucking building. Except. Except...
Ichigo stilled. Except that Rukia didn't love him. She was too smart for that, right? It was as though a slow rigor mortis had crept into his limbs unannounced, unproceeded by death. Orihime'd stopped talking by this point in time, made a half-flailing excuse about basically ignoring what she'd said altogether (what is she asking me, what is she asking), and seemed to be content with staring. Expectantly? Her eyes were like a goddamn loaded question. Lips parted, as though to speak, but a choking sensation spread like fire from chest to throat.
"Orihime," he managed in a half-strangled gasp. Maybe it sounded more solid than it felt. Either way, Ichigo didn't dare move one way or another, as though something might betray him. Was he supposed to pretend? Was he imagining all of this? No. No fucking way. "Y-your...your friends. They uh, they--" stomach feeling eerily similar to that flu he'd caught last year "--they love me?" Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuck. "HIM. Him." On the verge of maybe decomposing into the bed, yelling, throwing up, Ichigo pointedly attempted not to meet her eyes, tried to just watch from his periphery and study his blanket, her skirt. Because it didn't make any sense. Any of it.
He didn't know what to do with his hands.
"It's okay, Ichigo." The soft words left her throat unbidden, a natural reaction to seeing Ichigo upset. She didn't feel quite numb, weightless perhaps. Like any moment she would dissolve into vapor and just vanish in the heat.
"It's okay." She repeated, weightless but oh so heavy, she couldn't lift her head to look at him. Couldn't bear to see any number of things she knew she'd find if she looked in his eyes. Carefully, she took one of his hands between her own, gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go. Physical assurances always helped her, did they help others the same way? "It doesn't really matter, anyway. It's a silly thing to be so worried about. As long as he's happy with my friend, as long as they can be happy together, that's what's important. So, please. Forget I asked."
For the first time in a long time, Orihime felt like she could breathe. Even so, she knew she'd rather choke on all her unsaid words if letting them fly so freely hurt Ichigo this way.
What, precisely, was okay? Or rather, what wasn't okay? He left a string of words dangling off the tip of his tongue, and then forced himself to blink hard, lick the syllables off, onto his teeth instead. He should move, maybe, propel himself in one direction or another. Had to keep moving. Anything that halted forward momentum was dangerous (but that's selfish, Kurosaki, not if what she's sayin' is true and you never fuckin' noticed).
That nauseous upwelling again. Guilt? Fear? Any other guy would've offered up the threesome idea at this point, but even mentioning it, he thought, might poison something entirely. And he didn't quite think he could do it anyway. He glanced up from his studious examination (blank glare) of his jeans, saw only the heavy fringe of his orange eyelashes, and then snapped his head back up (eye to eye, windows to souls). Ran his tongue along the flat edge of his top teeth again. "How long."
'Does it matter?' the too-cynical question was crushed instantly, even if she didn't mean it as an attack it would sound one and she didn't want to give the impression she was angry with him. Ichigo didn't need that. Ichigo didn't need her selfishness more than he already had to deal with today.
Orihime shrugged, keeping her eyes on the oriental flower print of her skirt. Peach blossoms, it was one of her favorites. Would she ever be able to wear it again after today? 'You owe Ichigo an answer.'
"...I don't know. I can't really think of a time when I didn't." Since the start, seeing Ichigo made her heart beat just a little faster in her chest. When was it that she realized how much she looked forward to seeing him next, hearing him greet her? It felt like hundreds of years ago and Orihime could no longer accurately guess the time when it progressed too far for her to turn back from, if there was ever a moment to escape.
His brow furrowed into a crease that'd likely be near to permanent at the rate he was going. Seven years. Seven years. How many times had he been repeating that to himself over and over again? And he'd met her prior, hadn't he, at some thing that Tatsuki might have dragged him to. In his periphery, always the periphery. That'd he'd never realized after so long--he startled himself with the sharp report of pain from his lip. The inner corner was scabbing over anyway (too much on his mind), and now he'd bled it again. Awesome.
Ichigo swallowed. Tried to swish the copper taste out of his mouth. In all honesty, he'd never even entertained the possibility that Orihime... He knew this feeling. That feeling. Oh fuck it--his thoughts weren't quite making sense. She'd been far more selfless than he'd ever dreamed of being. All she'd ever done was make sure she'd been there--and had he ever given pause to really make sure she was actually happy?
"..."
When the tight feeling pinching his ribs together propelled him forward, he leaned close enough that he had to touch her face with his free hand in order to steady the both of them. To really look at her eyes. I'm sorry. But she'd never said a thing.
Orihime was startled out of her thoughts at Ichigo's sudden closeness, startled by suddenly meeting his eyes and being unable to look away. Did he hate her? Was he angry with her? She would certainly understand it if he was, here she was, forcing her feelings upon him when he probably had enough trouble already. He had a track thing tomorrow, didn't he? He didn't need this tonight.
She was surprised again to not see anger there at all. And so she smiled for him. The small, shy smile that was only for Ichigo, and let one of her hands come up to cover his as it gently touched her face.
"It's okay, Ichigo." she whispered again, hoping somehow to soothe the turmoil of emotions inside of him. "Please don't be upset?"
"..." Nothing. All her words trailed into a lingering quiet. Oh fuck. This kinda shit wasn't supposed to happen, and especially not to him. Not when he didn't deserve it. Love? But...why? To ask that kind of thing would be an insult. Adding insult to injury. Ichigo thought he could literally feel the blood drain from his face when she laid her hand over his (smooth). Was this the part where he was supposed to give her what she wanted?
Jaw working (teeth maybe grinding for an instant, not knowing what to do, how to move), he managed finally--"Ain't upset," quiet, "ain't nothin' to be upset about." Lie. "But I don't know what it is, and why it's okay." Just keep talking. Keep something going.
Ichigo didn't quite like the places and times in which his silence prevailed.
"I'm okay." Orihime clarified, filling the empty space with words that for once had meaning, not bothering to tell him to not lie to her. "This is okay. Nothing has to change, Ichigo." and she desperately hoped that they wouldn't. Sure, it might make her a little sick every time she saw Rukia and Ichigo flirting blatantly in public, but she wasn't sure what she'd do to have him completely removed from her life.
What if he needed her and she couldn't be there?
She'd gotten through the death of her brother, she could certainly get through this. 'This too shall pass.'
"...Thanks," he murmured, gruffly, swinging his chin just a few degrees to the left to avoid her gaze this time. Still didn't know what to think. This, clearly, was going to take awhile to really make sense--maybe it wouldn't. Certainly, it was too early to pass judgment on what was obvious, because shit definitely wasn't fucking obvious if he had been so goddamn blind the whole time. Does. Not. Computer.
Wasn't the right time for questions either. No why didn't you say anything ever, what do you want me to do, did she really say that to you, didn't you think you were wasting your time?
Before he drew his hand away, as gently as he could manage (hoping, fervently, that their fingers wouldn't tangle), he pressed his lips to where they fell first--high on the opposite cheekbone. Not quite chaste, not quite anything it could have been had they landed 90 degrees southwest. Just solid, which, he supposed, was all he'd ever tried to be anyway (failed?). "Sorry." It was really all he had to give.
As perhaps trivial or halfhearted as the simple act seemed to Ichigo, for Orihime it was enough to make her heart stop, her whole world narrowing to that one moment in time that she'd never be able to forget even if she tried. Feeling her face heat, she tried to keep herself from thinking how silly she must look -- bright red hair and now bright red face.
"...Nothing to be sorry about." Orihime finally said when she found her breath to speak again. Acknowledgment of her feelings. The small, simple acts of kindness. More than she'd ever expected to receive from him. She knew it was time to go, but had one more thing to do. Taking what might be her last chance to show affection for him again, Orihime threw her arms around his shoulders and captured him in a tight embrace.
"I told Rukia to take care of you, so... if she doesn't, just let me know and she'll have the Saw-Scaled Viper to deal with." Orihime's voice was strong again, resolution behind the almost whimsical promise. This would be enough.
Her sudden movement startled him. Even for someone acting and reacting on split-second instinct most of the time anyway, he just...it was hard to know what to expect. And so he allowed the tight enclosure of her arms, suffered the choke of guilt her words implied, and then, then, extricated himself from her arms. He needed to breathe. He needed to run.
She told Rukia. Then what had Rukia said? Rukia had wanted him to know this? Why? Was she that sick of him already? Was she--was this... With a grim air (perhaps more reluctantly forlorn), Ichigo eased his weight off the sagging mattress and stood. "I...gotta get to sleep, 'Hime," true, though he probably wouldn't find it coming easy, "since I got the meet tomorrow an' all."
'You were never mine. Not for even a single second.'
Orihime smiled, standing and brushing off her skirt. She didn't think she'd wear it again. "Goodnight Ichigo." she said, voice barely above a whisper. "...I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you. That was something I never wanted." Maybe someday he could accept her apology.
She made her way to the door, and idly wondered if she even would have to open it, or if she would dissolve into vapor first.
"S'fine, 'Hime." Ichigo palmed the back of his his head, worrying the orange tufts of hair with his fingers. He tried not to pull on it noticeably. "I ain't hurt. Don't worry about me." A pause, as he watched her retreating figure, the wan smile. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. After the meet."
Though her back was to him, she could hear the smile and returned it with one of her own, before giving him a thumbs-up. "I think you can do it this time! I'll be rooting for you, Ichigo!"
Only when she reached the door and was almost out did she turn to look at him again, expression very serious as her hand rested on the door frame. "Remember to get lots of sleep and eat a good breakfast and don't go out when it's still dark, you could be eaten by a Grue." Sometimes Orihime didn't know why she said the things she did. Most of the time it was because reality was too boring, too depressing, why not look at the world in a fun and interesting way? Other times, simply because she could think of nothing else to say and just couldn't stand the silence.
Her goodnight already said, Orihime shut the door behind her as she left.