Fic: Hopscotch: An Interval
Title: Hopscotch: An Interval.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Bleach (Ichigo/Orihime. Rukia)
Prompt: 13. Devil’s Advocate.
The thing about Orihime, Ichigo thought one day, during what had become his daily Orihime-watching session, the thing about her was that she really was very, very lovely.
It was almost not…right.
“What are you thinking about? Or is thinking a bit of a stretch with you? It tends to seem that way, especially during battle.”
Rukia however, was really very not-lovely. All prickles and sarcasm and reaping joy from the pain of others (mostly Ichigo’s pain). She is all sharp and jagged where Orihime is soft and smooth. It’s a wonder the two girls get along as well as they do really.
Rukia comes today bearing a six-pack of apple-juiceboxes. She won’t give any to Ichigo, though if anyone else asks she’ll be more than happy to share. She drops to the bench beside him, her thin dress blowing ever so softly in the breeze.
It’s a matter of seconds before the first juicebox has been ripped from the plastic packaging, straw firmly in place as Rukia sucks eagerly. She only comes up for air to say, “You watch her a lot lately.”
Ichigo shrugs broad shoulders, watches as Orihime plays hopscotch with a couple of the preschool girls from the street next to the park. Hopjumphop.
“I think you like her.” Rukia says, and her voice is sing-songy, soft, yet the underbelly of mockery is plain and clear to those who know it’s there.
“I’m not in love with her or anything.” Ichigo says, and his fingers are clenched over his knees, so hard and firm that his knuckles are crisp-paper-white.
“You don’t have to be, moron.” Rukia says, and she stares at him with such blatant annoyance and condescending that Ichigo honestly wonders why the hell they’re friends.
“Ichigo,” She starts, and her voice is soft and maybe she can’t make eye contact, because her gaze is fixated firmly on the straw sticking out of her apple juicebox. “No one’s asking you to be in love with her…they’re just…everyone at this fucking school, even Chizuru wants you both to be happy. They just want you to give this a chance.”
“Orihime wants a chance, Ichigo, a chance to be with you. For some reason, you make her happy.” The straw is at Rukia’s lips, she gulps some of the off-yellow liquid down and proceeds to stare at Ichigo with her big, ever-expressive eyes. “And I think, on some level, she makes you happy too.”
Ichigo stares at Rukia this time, eyes off her deceptively petite frame, her glossy hair, big, honest eyes. Maybe it would’ve been easier, if he had liked her instead.
But, really, probably not.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Bleach (Ichigo/Orihime. Rukia)
Prompt: 13. Devil’s Advocate.
The thing about Orihime, Ichigo thought one day, during what had become his daily Orihime-watching session, the thing about her was that she really was very, very lovely.
It was almost not…right.
“What are you thinking about? Or is thinking a bit of a stretch with you? It tends to seem that way, especially during battle.”
Rukia however, was really very not-lovely. All prickles and sarcasm and reaping joy from the pain of others (mostly Ichigo’s pain). She is all sharp and jagged where Orihime is soft and smooth. It’s a wonder the two girls get along as well as they do really.
Rukia comes today bearing a six-pack of apple-juiceboxes. She won’t give any to Ichigo, though if anyone else asks she’ll be more than happy to share. She drops to the bench beside him, her thin dress blowing ever so softly in the breeze.
It’s a matter of seconds before the first juicebox has been ripped from the plastic packaging, straw firmly in place as Rukia sucks eagerly. She only comes up for air to say, “You watch her a lot lately.”
Ichigo shrugs broad shoulders, watches as Orihime plays hopscotch with a couple of the preschool girls from the street next to the park. Hopjumphop.
“I think you like her.” Rukia says, and her voice is sing-songy, soft, yet the underbelly of mockery is plain and clear to those who know it’s there.
“I’m not in love with her or anything.” Ichigo says, and his fingers are clenched over his knees, so hard and firm that his knuckles are crisp-paper-white.
“You don’t have to be, moron.” Rukia says, and she stares at him with such blatant annoyance and condescending that Ichigo honestly wonders why the hell they’re friends.
“Ichigo,” She starts, and her voice is soft and maybe she can’t make eye contact, because her gaze is fixated firmly on the straw sticking out of her apple juicebox. “No one’s asking you to be in love with her…they’re just…everyone at this fucking school, even Chizuru wants you both to be happy. They just want you to give this a chance.”
“Orihime wants a chance, Ichigo, a chance to be with you. For some reason, you make her happy.” The straw is at Rukia’s lips, she gulps some of the off-yellow liquid down and proceeds to stare at Ichigo with her big, ever-expressive eyes. “And I think, on some level, she makes you happy too.”
Ichigo stares at Rukia this time, eyes off her deceptively petite frame, her glossy hair, big, honest eyes. Maybe it would’ve been easier, if he had liked her instead.
But, really, probably not.