Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ The Complements ❯ The Romantic ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: Put together, all we own is three-quarters of a soul and a set of plushies.

 

The Complements

By Prick & Bastard

 

The Romantic

 

He wanted the mushy “I love you; I'll be home by seven” lifestyle. He wanted “Dearest” and “Lover”, “Sweetie-pie” or even “Love-muffin”. One Kurosaki Ichigo was a romantic. A closet romantic, but a romantic nonetheless.

 

The revelation had only come this morning, with a most suspicious urge to walk Ishida to school. The desire to see the Quincy was completely unprecedented--they hunted Hollows together; occasionally, they spent the lunch hour in each other's company. Twice, buzzed from a disappointing, if successful, Hollow hunt on their lunch hour, they'd fucked in the shower of Ishida's tiny apartment. They were classmates, rivals, and an awkward set of not-quite-friends-not-quite-lovers, but nothing explained this sudden need to see his classmate.

 

When he'd showed up at Ishida's door, the Quincy had looked briefly surprised. Then he'd shoved his glasses up his nose, grabbed his schoolbag, and set off at a brisk pace, allowing Ichigo to trail behind. They'd been walking in step, sharing a comfortable silence, when it had hit him. Half a block ahead, two second-years were huddled together under a tree; their faces lifted intimately, their hands entwined. Seeing it, Ichigo had felt a strange pang. He'd nearly identify it as envy, but thought against it. Instead, he aimed a glare at Ishida and doubled his pace, leaving the jerk behind.

 

Turning into the courtyard, he cast a glance back at Ishida, who'd obviously felt no need to give chase, and admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he wanted a little bit more out of their relationship.

 

It had only gotten worse over the day. He'd opened Pandora's box and the warranty was void. Hell, he'd gone so far as to admit that, yes, he wanted pet names, and no, there was nothing unusual about that. Except the fact that he was turning into one of the `heroines' of Rukia's cheesier language tutorials.

 

That was why he was facing down Ishida's front door for the second time in one day, debating how exactly one asked to take the next step in a relationship when no steps had previously been defined. Taking a deep breath, Ichigo reached for the knocker. Shortly, the door opened.

 

“I want more.” He blurted at the pajama clad figure before him.