hali: tragic, infection, gallery
Ichigo ♥ Orihime
TRAGIC
“Kurosaki-kun, for five lifetimes… I will fall in love with the same person.”
She says, she promises and she dies.
Only Orihime can make dying so beautiful.
She lay there, immobile, a still doll. Pretty, little thing clad in white.
Her eyes are wide, bright like sunshine. Her mahogany hair under her is soaked with red, it is her blood. She is beautiful while she bleeds. She says the most beautiful things. She promises the most beautiful things.
There is silence.
The sounds of war fade away in the background. All he can hear is the sound of her blood flowing out of her wound, spreading, spreading and there are echoes too, words that flow like water Kurosaki-kun, for five lifetimes… I will fall in love with the same person-
He blinks and leans closer to inspect.
The cloudless skies reflect in her big eyes. She is sleeping, he tells himself, she is tired and now she sleeps. He keeps quiet. He does not scream, he does not cry. He lets her sleep.
He has the strangest urge to kiss her. He moves to do so but stops. She is a sleeping princess, isn’t she? A kiss will wake her, so he stops and stares deeply into her out of focus eyes.
This is weird, he thinks. Her eyes are open, her cheeks are pale, she isn’t breathing and… she isn’t breathing.
Orihime isn’t breathing.
No, she is merely sleeping, he tells himself. She is tired of the fighting, of the noise. She needs to sleep, that is all. So he waits beside her while holding her cold hand.
Hours pass. Days pass.
She lay there, immobile, a still doll. Pretty, little thing clad in white.
He sits there, immobile, a still knight. Handsome, sturdy thing clad in black.
INFECTION
It’s not coming off. It stays, it stains, it is red.
He scrubs and scrubs until the skin is red and raw. When he thought that he’s already washed it off, another batch of bloodstains appears. Why, why don’t they go away?
He scrubs harder. Grimmjow, Ulquiorra… Ishida… What if… What if he lost control again? Who’s next?
“Kurosaki-kun?” he stiffens and panics. His heart races painfully.
What if she sees the blood in his hands? He scrubs harder. He jerks in surprise when she speaks and finds out she is standing next to him. “What are you doing?” she asks. He grunts as a reply. “Kurosaki-kun…”
“It’s not coming off.” He grunts.
Orihime blinks and looks down to his hands. She frowns, what is not coming off? There is nothing on his hands. “Kuro…”
“Goddamn it, get off, get the fuck off.”
Orihime opens her mouth but Ichigo hisses,
“Blood… blood… damn it, don’t look, Inoue…”
A wrinkle of sadness and understanding creases her forehead. “Kurosaki-kun…”
“Don’t look!” Panic makes him voice thick. “There’s so much blood. Damn it. Don’t look.”
Startling Ichigo and rendering him immobile, she hugs him from behind. “Stop, please.” She whispers, “Please.”
“No…” His breathing is short, ragged, and painful. “No… Don’t touch me, Inoue. You’ll get… I don’t want to taint you. Stay away, don’t-”
“No.” She embraces him tighter, her hands curling into fists, crumpling his shirt. “Please, stop. Don’t do this to yourself.”
A moment of stillness passes, a quiet that is so calm, punctured by the flowing water from the faucet and Ichigo’s heavy breathing.
“Kurosaki-kun,” Despite the clothing barrier between the skin of his back and her mouth, Ichigo can feel her lips move as she says his name. One of her fists uncurls, moves up and rests upon his heart. It pumps harder, races faster.
“You,” she says. In response, he feels his heart jerk under her small palm. “Are not a monster,”
Something inside him overflows.
He turns inside her embrace and almost roughly, he puts his arms around her shoulders, a large, wet hand cradling the back of her head.
“I’m sorry, Inoue…” He rasps, his throat is dry, his voice is hoarse as he clutches her auburn head. “I’m sorry.”
“Kurosaki-kun…” Orihime puts her palms on his shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry… Damn it. I’m fucking sorry.” As he speaks, his embrace tightens, his cheek resting against the side of her head. Long, flaming locks of hair slip through the gaps of his fingers; she smells nice, like spring, like hope and he hungers for it.
“I know.” She says kindly, rubbing her palms on his back.
Ichigo hugs her so tight, as if trying to melt with her. Orihime feels her cheeks heat up; he is so close, Kurosaki-kun is so close. And his scent… She blushes harder. She clings to him tighter, taking advantage of the situation for this, she knows, will be the first and the last time she’ll be this close to him.
“I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking monster.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.” He insists, his voice suddenly hard. “And you’re not supposed to touch me.” But his grip around her tightens. “I don’t want to taint you.” He whispers against her hair; his fingers curl frantically in her hair. “You’re too… too… pure, too fucking beautiful and-”
“Kurosaki-kun, you’re not a monster. You saved me. You protected me. And you are… you are…”
Faster breathing, inhale, exhale; hearts beat faster.
“You are…” Orihime’s voice is shaking; she is breathless. Unconsciously, she curls her hands into fists, clutching his shirt.
“I’m what?” He asks against her the hair on her temple. Ichigo slowly pulls his head away from her shoulder, cups her cheek and lifts her face to look into her eyes. She is blushing, her eyes are dark. In the semi-darkness of her small kitchen, their faces are closer now. He feels a pull, he is drawn to her and there is an urge to touch her fully, feel her, maybe…
He… he really wants to kiss her, but is it okay to be kissed by a monster, by a beast? Her response is a hand sliding up to clutch at his hair by the roots. A shiver convulses his spine when her blunt nails scrape his scalp. His grip tightens; hers too. His dark eyes watch her tongue trace and wet her lips. A knot tightens inside him. They draw closer, until…
The phone rings and she gasps, long lashes fluttering; Ichigo, however, does not let go, holding her still, unfazed by the sound. Her lashes lower, shielding her eyes, embarrassed. Ichigo leans down and his breath tickles her hot cheek.
“Inoue,” she blushes. The ringing continues, shrill, a squeal for attention. She grips his shirt and hair tighter as her delicate throat moves.
“I… I… have to answer the phone.” She stutters and knows she sounds lame.
Ichigo’s lower lip curls in a smirk. “Yeah, you have to.”
Neither moves.
“But I guess… you should let go of my hair first.” He whispers.
Orihime gasps in mortification and she extends her fingers, letting go of orange strands and his shirt, with a squeak and an apology. He slowly releases her, Orihime tentatively steps back. He stares at her bowed head. Orihime slowly turns to leave but he grabs her arm, halting her movement. The girl stiffens, breathless. Oh heart, be still.
“Thanks, Inoue.”
Startled, she turns her head to look over her shoulder. His lips are slightly curved in a very small smile; she could not see the expression of his eyes for he is standing against the light.
“We’ll talk later.” His voice drops in a low, scratching tone. “If you want,”
That makes her heart beat faster.
Smiling, she replies, “Y-Yes… I… I’d like that.”
He nods. “Good.” He lets go of her arm. “That’s good.”
GALLERY
Ichigo slid the door open, face in default scowl. His eyes landed on a particular group of people. His scowl darkened.
“Oi,” he thundered gruffly. “What the hell are you guys doing around my desk?”
The small group of people gathered around his desk lifted their heads and turned to look at him. Sado, as usual, was quietly appraising him; the corner of Ishida’s mouth was twitching; Tatsuki looked like a swelling sabertooth tiger; Chizuru was mimicking Tatsuki’s expression, only ten times worst; Rukia was not looking at him, but at a square strip of paper; Renji was grinning at him toothily; Kiego was drenching his desk with his tears; Mizuiro was multi-tasking, texting while watching Ichigo approach and the rest of Orihime’s friends were gawking at him as if he was a devil incarnate. Obviously absent from the group was Orihime.
What was going on here?
With his every step, Tatsuki and Chizuru’s expressions were getting darker and more ominous. A tic had developed all over Ishida’s face. Ichigo frowned, what the hell did he do wrong this time? Can’t people cut him some slack? He was a hardworking student and full time substitute shinigami. He deserved some respect, didn’t he?
“What’s the big idea?” he grunted. He swung his bag down in an attempt to put it on his desk, but he stopped as his eye caught what was scattered across the wooden table.
Ichigo blinked.
“Pictures,” He deadpanned. And then, his eyes slowly bulged. “Wha… WHAT THE HELL!” He slammed his bag down on his chair and grabbed some glossy photographs from the desk.
They were pictures of him - and Orihime - kissing his girlfriend, of his mouth on hers, of him with his hand under her shirt, under her skirt and- what the fuck! - a picture of him pinning Orihime against the wall, his hand trapping her wrists above her head while he kissed her full on the mouth.
Ichigo shook like a leaf against a wind, his eyes widening even more as he frantically leafed through the photographs. The picture of him and Orihime kissing against a tree made his face burn. He distinctly remembered that that particular make out session led into something more.
Oh shit.
Ichigo faced his classmates. “Who the fuck took these pictures?” he hissed in a trembling voice.
They simply blinked obliviously at him. Ichigo was not amused.
“I said -”
“Wow, Ichigo, you’re practically swapping saliva with Inoue here! Look!” Renji chirped, pointing at the picture he held in his hand.
“Shut up!” Ichigo hissed, grabbing the picture from the redhead’s hand.
“What type of blackmail did you use on Inoue?” asked Rukia. Ichigo felt a vein stretch and snap in his temple.
“Who… damn it! Who took these pictures? I swear I’m going to rip his spine out!”
“H-H-How dare you taint my precious Hime! You…” Chizuru began in despair. “You… you orange haired ogre!” The girl cried out, waving her hands in the air hysterically. Ichigo felt his eye twitch. “I am so heartbroken! I have planned on taking away Hime’s virginity and-”
Tatsuki snapped out of her trance and unceremoniously delivered a vicious spinning kick. “SHUT UP AND DIE!”
Crack.
Ichigo frantically gathered the incriminating photos, mentally listing off the things he would do once he discovered who was behind this mess. “I am going to kill -”
“Wow, Kurosaki, I didn’t know you had it in you!”
Ichigo froze.
“Ochi-sensei!” The group chorused.
The woman plucked a picture from the pile. “Impressive! So you can do things like these with your tongue? Is this what they call tongue-sex?”
The students gawked at the supposedly conservative teacher.
“Hmm, I thought you’re asexual.” Ochi-sensei eyed a particular picture with a clinical eye.
Ichigo twitched.
Ochi-sensei shrugged and tossed the photo back in the pile Ichigo had gathered in his hands. “Well, it is obvious Inoue enjoys being violated by you.”
Horrified and horribly blushing, Ichigo stuttered. “I AM NOT VIOLATING HER.”
She patted Ichigo on the shoulder, an attempt to calm the boy. “Congratulations, Kurosaki! You’re not gay!” She paused, a specific photo catching her eye. She snatched it, stared at it and the grin on her face slowly widened. “Oh, look,” She waved the picture in front of his face. “She likes cowgirl style, huh?”
Another tensed silence compressed, stretched and cracked (and Tatsuki was convulsing rather violently).
“Ohayo!”
Everyone turned to the door.
Orihime cocked her head to the side, blinking innocently at the stupefied gazes directed to her.
“Um… what did I miss?"
note. finally! -_-" my Hali Challenge entries. i didn't forget, it's just that i was busy with other stuffs!
also, nikki~ if you're reading this, i am so sorry! the fic i promised~ i'll post it next week, i'll try my best!
disclaimer applied. Bleach (c) Kubo Tite
hali challenge @ enraku_world