Nolongerhere. (windxalchemist) wrote in bleachness,
Nolongerhere.
windxalchemist
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Fanfiction: I... [Pairing: IchiRuki]

Title: I…
Author: windxalchemist
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo/Kuchiki Rukia

Rating: PG
Warnings: Possible spoilers up until the beginning of the SS-Arc
Disclaimer: Kubo Tite seems to own Ichigo, Rukia, and my soul.



             “Ow…OW!” he screams loudly, voice hoarse.

             She slaps weakly at his upper arm, it’s the closest appendage she can reach, and she has already used so much reiatsu; there isn’t much left in her tonight. 

             “Stop screaming! You should know by now that any wounds you receive as a konpaku will stay with you when you return to your body.” 

He thinks that that’s a real sucky ass way to console someone. Rukia’s giving him an almost reproachful look, but Ichigo sees something else in the mix. “But you always healed them before.” 

             He recognizes the look now. It’s… 

             “I am sorry,” she says softly. “I used too much reiatsu while mending the hole in your chest.” 

             Guilt. 

             Ichigo feels his own guilt beginning to uproot itself within. He decides that Rukia shouldn’t ever wear a sad face, and in doing so, he vows to never be the cause of it. If he did, it would be almost like… 

             “Hey.” 

             She gives a quiet grunt of reply, clearly annoyed at something. What that is, he doesn't know either. 

             “Thanks. A lot.” He tells her; one could barely hear his voice through the pitter patter of the rain. 

             She looks at him, surprised. The corners of his mouth have a shadow of an upturn. Her eyes widen in panic. In response to what? What was she…? 

             She clenches her eyelids shut, breaking the gaze. She tosses bandages at him brusquely. “Fix yourself, fool!” she berates, standing up.
 

Her knees feel weak and she nearly collapses. Ichigo’s hands steady her, and suddenly she’s alarmed, flustered, and embarrassed all at once. But she finds herself unable to say anything of consequence, so she coughs into her fist and walks away.

. . .
 

             When they take on a rather nasty hollow the next week, he’s not the only one to sustain injuries. She finds that her reiatsu isn’t increasing. In fact, it’s almost… 

             “Ack!” he hisses quietly, returning to his body. 

             She whips around immediately. “Are you-?” 

             “I’m fine,” he affirms, not meeting her eyes. 

             Frowning, she walks up to him, and she wordlessly reaches up to heal the slice on his cheek. He catches on rather quickly, crushing her fingers within his own. 

             “It’s okay!” he assures, voice gruff. “You probably don’t have much power left anyways.” 

             She is taken aback by his words. She knows that he’s really arguing against her; she notices the way his brows are furrowed unevenly, the right one deeper than the left. However, it doesn’t feel like he’s arguing; it feels almost like he is trying to… 

             Their eyes meet, and he’s still holding her fingers to his cheek; his fingers, they’re so warm. She feels that warmth permeate through her. They’re... they’re… 

             She looks away and wriggles her hand out his much larger one. He abruptly lets go out of embarrassment. She isn’t sure where to look, neither is he. Where do you look when you have nowhere else to turn? 

             He looks into her eyes, he notes how her lips are slightly parted, and she looks into the expanse of amber. Ichigo’s eyes, they’re so, so sincere. Her breath hitches when he leans down, fingers daring to brush against her face. Panic alarms go off in her head, and she knows that they shouldn’t be… she should know better… 

             She’s leaning up on her tippy toes and he’s bending down, neck craning. She’s unable to breathe properly. 

             Their lips graze, just barely. That’s all it takes to feel the moist warmth of his mouth. Rukia sees the corner of his eyes crinkle in earnest before she closes her own. She hears him draw in a quick breath, lips still pressed against hers, and she’s ready to delve into his mouth. She draws up insistently, hand coming to the front of his t-shirt. There’s a hand threading through her hair; she feels his mouth slanting over hers fiercely. She’s ready, and he’s oh so willing… 

             Reality breaks through when she pushes her other hand against his chest. His t-shirt’s digging into the back of his neck uncomfortably; she’s pulling on it too hard. He isn’t quite sure how to balance himself when she’s pushing and pulling on him at the same time.  

             Through heavily lidded eyes, they look at one another. His eyes are confused and dark with pent up… she knows what; she won’t –can’t– say. If she were to acknowledge it, then it would become a reality. If it were real, then she knows that she couldn’t stop.  

His nose brushes against hers and he swears that he can feel her lashes skim against his cheeks. She lets a hand fall limp to her side; the one that was pushing against his chest. 

“We should…go,” she whispers. He feels her hot breath on his chin. 

“Yeah,” he agrees reluctantly. 

They separate but the air of longing doesn’t dissolve. 

They were…she was…he was… 

They walk home in silence.

Tags: fanfiction, ichigo, ichiruki, rukia
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