Impassive, wintry jade orbs scoured over the Quincy. His determination and resolute nature in the face of inimical, absolute loss had been both sterile and forlorn. There was little he held for the bespectacled youth, other than a distance one might keep when glowering before a rather antagonistic, scrambling mound of trash. His unimpressed visage both reflected and contrasted the surprised antimony of the other.
“Had you thought I was no more? I suppose that goes to show you just how imperceptive you really are.” His glance darkened, miserable complexion forging one of depreciation and cruelty. “Not only could you scarcely control yourself against all odds, but even now you contradict that level-headed persona you constantly struggle to maintain.”
Uryu narrowed his eyes dangerously at the fourth Espada, but somehow he took a step back since he knew it wasn’t a good idea to provoke him even in the slightest. He had fought him before, he wasn’t scared—not at all—but of course the young Quincy stood no chance against him. There was no vantage for him to drag him into a fight, and also, there was no reason for it.
But it was annoying, how Ulquiorra always spoke as if he was the superior one, considering everything and everyone he found uninteresting as trash. And for Uryu, what was bothering him was the fact that—despite of Ulquiorra’s persona which appeared to be the quiet one—he was the one with a bunch of unnecessary commentations here and there. Surely Uryu never expected that the one who always looked calm was no much different from the Sexta Espada.
Completely ignored the Espada’s words—which was long yet meaningless for the Quincy—the blue orbs stared at the emerald ones, carefully chose his words. “What are you doing here?”
What. Uryu furrowed his eyebrows when he realized there was this familiar, enormous reiatsu flowed in the air around him. This must belong to one and only Espada who had once cut his arm. Ulquiorra Cifer. What the hell is this Espada doing in the world of the living? It can’t be— no way, does it have something to do with Inoue-san?
Ichigo tilted his head to he could sink his nose in the soft raven hair. Uryuu was always so meticulous about hygiene and all that, and his hair smelled like mint from the shampoo. He had obviously washed it recently and the image of Ishida showering popped into Ichigo’s head as he quickly shook it off with a blush and held his lover close.
“I said you don’t need to worry and therefore you don’t.” He repeated stubbornly.
“I should be the one worried about you…”
Kurosaki muttered under his breath, he spent so much time protecting all of his friends he sometimes left Ishida to fend for himself. He knew the raven could handle a blow, but he would rather he took none even if it would hurt his pride as a Quincy— Ichigo noted this position was rather uncomfortable, his torso awkwardly twisted as he wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. He quickly pulled the other up and into his lap, his expression unchanging.
As he sat on the other’s lap, a blush spread through his cheeks, the heat warming the pale skin intensely. Uryu didn’t say anything, but otherwise, silently wrapping his arms around the other’s neck. They rarely got this close when they were together, but Uryu—no mather how shy he was—didn’t want to push him away. Not again. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he knew deep inside his heart he loved Ichigo.
“Stop it.” He murmured lowly and shyly moved forward. He brushed hi lips against the other’s, quivering lightly when their lips pressed together. He surely didn’t know what he did, he just wanted to show him how much he ‘loved’ him. Yes, perhaps he couldn’t explain it with words. After all, action was better than words, right?
“I—I’m sorry—” He quickly pulled back and looked away. His cheeks felt burned and his heart’s racing. This is wrong… No. It wasn’t. He looked back at the orange haired boy and hugged him, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love you.”
“I don’t care what you say, he’s a bastard and deserves everything that I did to him!” Kurosaki looked ahead and not at Ishida, his cheeks puffed with determination. It didn’t matter if Ishida wanted him to stay out of trouble, he would always jump up to protect each and every one of his friends even if it meant loosing his life. When his muscles finally relaxed he glanced at the glasses-wearing Quincy and the side of his lip curled slightly up in a small smile.
He cocked his head to the side, his hand leaving Ishida’s to wrap around his back. He pressed his lips against his clothed shoulder and sighed contently, pulling the younger man close to his chest.
“Ishida… Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
He told him not to worry about him? How could he do something as such? Of course he worried about him. He had witnessed him died when he fought Ulquiorra in Las Noches back then, he had witnessed him drown in despair when Ginjo took his power, he understood how hurt it was to be him. Uryu just could not sit still and watch everytime Ichigo got into a trouble. He just did not want to lose him.
Uryu let the boy pulled him closer and placed a kiss on his shoulder. His warmth slowly filled the hole inside his heart. He wanted him to stay by his side. But it seemed to be impossible. Ichigo would leave to protect everyone, and so would he. There were plenty of people who needed them, that was why he had to push aside his feelings, his selfishness.
“Is that so, Kurosaki?” He looked at the brown orbs in a saddened look, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck as he slowly whispered into his ear. “I can’t do that, idiot. I can’t sit still without worrying you.”
Days passed him too fast, and it felt more distant with the one he cared about. Uryu could not ignore his own feelings that he missed him to the level of wanting to pull the man closer into his arms. He was shaken by his own thoughts. He wanted to meet him, he wanted to meet Kurosaki. It had been weeks since the last time that orange haired boy visited his apartment, and after that, he did not meet him anymore. He was too busy with those council’s business and whatnot.
Just if he had a little time…
He crawled back under the blanket. The morning had come but the cold did not leave him. He was almost frozen by the cold which came unexpectedly. The cold which came along with the thoughts of Kurosaki. Where he was right now, was he okay with everything? Uryu closed his eyes once again, shaking under his blanket. He felt a little ncotalgic when his fingers traced along the bedsheet beside him. There used to be Kurosaki who laid beside him.
“Hmph… what am I thinking about anyway?” He growled in a frustration. He wanted to meet him, so bad. He wanted to embrace him and never let go. He just wanted him, right now. But where was he now? Was he also thinking about him?
I miss you… Kurosaki.
He felt Ishida’s hand tense under his for a moment and he looked at him in alarm, worried he had gone too far once more, but when the raven relaxed he let out a sigh of relief. Ichigo was a little jumpy about his advances on Ishida, always wanting a positive reactions he could base on. When Ishida said he was just trying to be the hero the scowl returned to his face.
“I can’t stand that guy!” He spat, looking away and glaring at everything like it was Grimmjow himself standing there. “He doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”
He chuckled and rubbed his temple, casually letting go of the other’s hand. His fce turned red faintly as he moved his body closer. “That’s really… ridiculous, Kurosaki. I mean… Grimmjow is just… well, I don’t think Aizen taught him some manner. You can just simply ignore him, or you’ll get into the fight—unnecessary fight with him.”
Actually it was because he felt uneasy everytime Ichigo got into a trouble. He always felt that he’s the one who’s responsible to clean the mess, and he always wanted to protect him from those enemies, though he was sure Ichigo would not that easy to accept his ‘kindness’.
“Just don’t get into trouble, Kurosaki…”
Ichigo’s cold facade melted away when Ishida smiled. He turned around and immediately made his way to the raven as if dazed. He sat next to him, his hand slipping over Ishida’s and giving it a tight squeeze. “It’s alright.” He muttered, a little reluctant.
Kurosaki’s expression soured childishly at the mention of the ‘Espada’ who could be none other than Grimmjow. “Well he was talking shit about you and I…”
At first it was strange to get a squeeze on his hand from another guy. But it would be another thing that matter for Ichigo if he refused it. He was well aware that he had hurt the other more than just once before. He did not know how far Ichigo had taken their relationship, and somehow he was afraid to know about it.
“And you tried to be a hero, is that what you’re going to say?” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t try to make me laugh, Kurosaki! You really don’t have to do something like that. He’s just trying to be cool, I think.” He shrugged.