Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ The Complements ❯ The Reactive ( Chapter 5 )

 

The Reactive

 

Approaching him tonight had been a decidedly bad idea. For the longest time Ishida had been lost in thought, completely unresponsive to Ichigo's confused pleas. Then he'd stood and stalked him; the outburst had bubbled forth, unexpectedly angry. He'd been cornered, Ishida's hands in his pants. But it was his gaze that pinned him much more than his body.

 

Things were coming from Ishida's mouth. Mean, degrading things that were calculated, meant to hurt. They carried ten times the weight of their normal banter. Imposing. Flattered. Lick your wounds. Fit in. They piled up in his head. Were he a tea kettle, he'd be whistling. Instead, he yanked himself free. The loopholes of his jeans ripped. He'd bring them to Ishida tomorrow, he decided. At least the arrogant Quincy was good for that much.

 

Then reality reared its ugly head. He was steaming, letting off too much spirit energy and a good deal of sweat. It couldn't be safe for the tiny apartment's foundation. Things were coming out of his mouth to counter what Ishida had said. “Like a complete asshole and kick me around!”

 

He didn't quite know what he'd said. He could hope, and really, it was more pretend than hope, that his remarks were as cutting and effective as Ishida's, but he knew he didn't hold the same command of the language. He was better at kicking than cursing, and Ishida was holding a hand over his mouth, probably hiding a smirk or holding back a nasty, little snicker.

 

“You really think you're so much better than me, Uryuu, is that it?” The words were hurt, but they came out angry. “You think you're some kind of superior and I'm the inferior one?” He couldn't--wouldn't--believe that Ishida thought of him that way, but some small part of him felt it was true. “You know, maybe I was right when I first met you.” Ishida just stood there, hand over his mouth, calm once more and probably laughing at that fool Kurosaki, breaking down because his crush said he wouldn't go out with him. Half desperate, he came out with the sharpest curse he knew. “I should never have trusted you in the first place.”

 

The words had no impact. Obviously, trust didn't hold the same importance to him as it did to fool Kurosaki. Ishida wasn't even looking at him. His eyes were glazed and his breathing was coming in staggered bursts.

 

“Kurosaki, please,” his words were weak, pleading. “Please, stop this; calm down.”

 

The words were like a bucket of cold water. Temper drenched, Ichigo noticed his surroundings. Ishida was half bent, hand still at his mouth, gasping like a drowning man just brought to the surface. His energy hadn't destroyed anything, he was grateful to note, but the cut threads scattered beneath the sewing machine had been pushed into a corner, and the perfectly folded pants were looking lightly rumpled. Ichigo himself was covered in sweat, pits stained dark on his t-shirt and small rivers running down his face to drip from his chin.

 

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo hissed out, horrified with himself. “I'm sorry.” He wrapped an arm around Ishida's hunched figure, drawing him towards his body and whispering into his neck. “I wasn't thinking. I don't want to impose anything on you. I'm just looking for a little fucking affection.”

 

“Kurosaki.” Ishida drew back, “Ichigo.” He corrected, gently laying a hand to Ichigo's arm. “You really smell.”