old bleach fic
Ichigo sighs, a long exhale through a frowning mouth. "What?"
"What do you mean 'what'?" Rukia frowns, meeting his gaze from her perch on the open window. It's been only a few days since she's taken a more 'permanent' residence in the Kurosaki home, yet it feels like it's been a few weeks, months (years, even)- for both of them. A comfortable familiarity hangs in the air above them and she swings her legs softly over Ichigo's, accidentally brushing his jeans with the balls of her feet from time to time.
"Stop, that's annoying," he grumbles, looking up from his textbook and adjusting his slouched position against the wall, long legs stretched across the bed. "Why aren't you in Karin and Yuzu's room playing dress-up or whatever?"
"They're studying. I don't want to bother them," she says.
Ichigo huffs in irritation. "So, you bother me instead? That's some great logic there."
"Isn't it?" she replies, making a childish face. He mutters under his breath some more, but returns to his book, eyes darting back and forth across the pages.
Rukia sighs in content as a crisp breeze moves her hair softly against her neck, the short strands tickling her nape. Long, thin clouds stretch across the sky, filtering the light from the moon and stars, and she leans back slowly, letting her eyes slide closed as she savors the simple feel of night. Then the feeling of weightlessness creeps up into her stomach, that all too familiar feeling one gets right before gravity gets ahold of you, and she realizes that she's leaned back too far. She gasps, and her eyes fly open,
...and then Ichigo's hands are curled around her bicep and the small of her back, strong and unyielding, fingers digging deep into her skin.
"Be careful, stupid! You'll break your neck."
She opens her mouth to snap something about how she can take care of herself, but then sees herself reflected in his eyes, and the worry that's hidden in the creases of his frown and along his brow- and all her thoughts of berating his protectiveness turn to guilt, the big ball of guilt she keeps deep in her chest that only grows bigger as time goes on. Ichigo, finally growing aware of how intently she's been looking at him, quickly lets her go and slumps back against his wall, cheeks now heated.
Rukia looks away, worrying her bottom lip through teeth too dull. She feels Ichigo's eyes on her, watching closely, and when she finally meets his gaze, the words force themselves out, having been compressed too long inside that ball in her chest.
"I'm sor-"
"Sorry, sorry, that's all you ever say!" he interrupts, and his mouth is a hard line. "There's nothing for me to forgive, stupid. There's nothing for anyone to forgive. The only forgiving that needs to be done is for yourself."
She starts, eyes wide; the ball of guilt rises up in her chest again, expanding, pressing up against her ribs and driving all the air out of her lungs. Ichigo watches as her hands and eyes fall to her lap, fingers dancing along dress seams and pulling loose threads from the fabric. His chest is so tight it's starting to hurt, and all he can think is, 'Oh god oh god, she's gonna start crying- fuck! don't cry, don't cry, PLEASE just don't fucking cry...' And then finally, after a moment so long it feels like weeks, months (years, even)- she looks up, and Ichigo lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding in.
Rukia's smiling.