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He had another nightmare, if he could even call it that. He doesn’t know where he is but all he can see is white. He hears yelling and swords and the sea is the sky above him. It seems to be falling down, but he isn’t afraid. He can’t feel his sword. He can’t see anything but her walking towards the horizon – and she’s so far away from him, with her back turned away. He tries to run up to her but feels as if he’s charging against waves – that he can’t see. But, when he does–it always ends the same with her fading away . . . leaving him engulfed in water and eventually in darkness.
The dream keeps him restless; leaving him tense . . . wondering that maybe this is all too good to be true. He knows she has to go back to Soul Society eventually. It is inevitable. She’s a vice-captain now, she has to go back.
He breathes deeply and exhales loudly, closing his eyes. It’s the middle of night and he should at least try to fall back asleep. He remembers quickly that he isn’t the only one lying in his bed. Her head is close to the curve of his shoulder, with his arm around her. His fingers trace the small of her back, light like a feather, careful not to wake her. Most nights, when he has the same dream, he turns to her, as if to check if she’s really there.
It’s rare to see her like this.
He usually falls asleep first and she’s the first to get up in the mornings. But he takes these moments any chance he can get. Her hair pushed back with a dark colored headband, which is refreshing because of that pesky bang always in her face. At night it’s pushed back, leaving her completely bare and open. Her lips, still swollen from earlier, are slightly open as she breathes. As he stares, he notices things about her physically that he normally wouldn’t pay attention to when she’s awake, like her eyelashes. She has very long dark eyelashes and a beautiful long neck . . . He doesn’t know if his attentiveness is due to those 17 months of separation from her . . . but he’s glad she’s here with him, as if no time has passed between them.
Unlike when she’s awake, she’s quiet as she sleeps. And relaxed, which is an expression on her face he could never get tired of seeing. She looks young, almost too young for him. Her skin is soft, almost too soft to touch. She never tosses or turns, but sometimes she moves her body closer to him throughout the night, or she turns away from him and guides his arm on her waist. As he watches her, she licks her lips. He curses to himself and knows that his rare moment has ended.
“You’re doing it again,” she keeps her eyes closed as she gently shoves his arm off of her waist.
He stays quiet, longer than usual for a quick response back. Crap, he thinks. Rukia feels him exhale – his body feels tense. She opens her eyes, looking up at him to see his brown eyes staring down at her. She rubs her hand up and down his arm; matching his light touches on her back. Her violet eyes look bright in the night, so big and full of promise.
“Doing what,” he says at last, leaning in closer to graze his lips across her forehead.
“Staring at me while I sleep,” she says – she feels him grin against her forehead.
“I’m not staring,” he replies quickly.
“I can feel you staring Ichigo,” she says. “ You always wake up in the middle of the night and stare at m—“
“Not always,” he interrupts.
“See, so you admit you do stare,” she teases.
She traces her fingers across his jaw. The separation wasn’t easy on her either and she doesn’t speak about it much. Yet, he understands that although she isn’t able to express how she feels verbally– simple affections throughout the night take place of conversation.
“Don’t sleep in my bed then, “ he replies.
“Your bed?”
“Yes, my bed”
“Don’t invite me to your bed then,” she says, shifting away from his shoulder to look at his face. His eyes are very soft on hers.
After a long pause, Ichigo traces his finger over her cheek. Rukia can tell the back and forth banter is over between them, when he moves closer – his mouth lightly tracing over hers.
“I can’t help myself,” he murmurs, as he gently draws his finger under her chin to draw her into a gentle kiss. She leans into his lips, light and soft against hers. She sighs into him, as her eyes flutter closed.
“ You’re an idiot,” she says, as he pulls away. He notices, even in the dark, that her cheeks are flushed.
“You say that everyday”.
“I can’t help myself” she replies.
He laughs softly, she’s easy to embarrass, especially when they are alone. It does the opposite for him – when they’re alone, he has the courage to say things . . . things he could never say out loud before.
“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says after a while. Rukia can feel his heartbeat steady against her. He’s warm under her touch – yet she knows there’s something on his mind. She wraps her arms around his neck, burying the questions that form in her throat. The quiet of the night makes her thoughts seem loud, and his touch sends ripples all around her body.
“I know,” she says, as her hand palms the back of his neck. She’s has noticed that he reaches out for her at night, something he never used to do before— as if she might slip away from him. “I know”.
“How much longer— “ he says.
She closes her eyes. As much as she would like to stay, she can’t. His bedroom always served as a refuge for her. It helps her get away from everyone and everything. But she can only stay here for so long, and after 17 months without it; she can’t help but want to stay with him. She doesn’t want to answer his question, so she kisses him forcefully and pulls away – as if she’s left the answer on his lips.
“I’m here”, she says.
He smiles lightly. She’s so close to him, and his thoughts betray him, when he suddenly feels a swell of adoration wash over him. It is intense; it’s presence thick in the bedroom. Rukia feels it and looks up at him, keeping some space between them on the pillow – she can’t help but blush again with the way he’s looking at her.
“You look like you’re gonna say it . . . “ she says softly, avoiding eye contact as she looks away from his gaze.
“You can read my mind now? ” Ichigo murmurs.
“Shut up – I’m …” she exhales, still avoiding his eye contact.
“There’s no need to freak out over nothing, “ he says.
“I’m not freaking out,”
“Just go back to sleep, Rukia”
“I was sleeping just fine before you started your staring contest”, she says.
Ichigo runs his free hand through his hair as he looks away from her. She’ll say anything to kill the mood.
Rukia exhales, letting out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. He’s saying it more now. And she’s still not used to it. Yet, every time he’s about to say it, she gets this feeling like her heart is about to burst – and it doesn’t help that Ichigo gets this look that makes her feel – like she’s about to be set on fire, right up until he says it. It’s too overwhelming.
Especially since she knows he doesn’t say it to just anyone.
Especially since she knows how much he means it.
Especially since she knows he really wants to.
Seventeen months and all they have is a limited amount of time together. He wonders if the dream is reminding him of that, that she can fade away at any moment. She knows why he stares in the middle of night; it’s his way of saying how much he missed her. He can be sweet . . . sometimes.
“Rukia . . . “ he says, as he guides her face to look up at him. His eyes are so brown and so delicate. His hand finds hers and intertwine. Rukia smiles softy at him, reassuring that she’s not freaking out.
“ What are you – “ Rukia loses her train of thought as he pulls her closer to him. His arms rest tightly around her, as if it’s his way of telling her to shut up and sleep. She hides her face in the crook of his neck, as his mouth lightly traces her ear.
“I …” he whispers it so low she can barely hear it, but she knows that he does.