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It starts with a thought on a random day, indistinguishable from any other except for the way the thought latches onto Ichigo’s brain, in the way it echoes with every piece of evidence he sees in Rukia's entire demeanor: the light in her eyes, the curve of her lip; how she talks; the way she laughs. He's familiar enough with her when she's pretending to be someone else, and right here, right now, Rukia is herself, and she's happy. Which is good, of course.
He wants all his friends to be happy.
He likes Rukia to be happy in particular, is the thing.
Because when her brows furrow, when her mouth slants, when her voice changes pitch; it feels like a compulsion to find out why. The thought of Rukia being anything less than happy - anything less than herself - tugs at him; pulls his head to look for the source, narrows his eyes and darkens his scowl.
It's ridiculous, of course.
She doesn't need him to ensure her happiness. She's proven time and again that she can handle herself - whether it's a fight or an unpleasant social interaction - whether she's donning her robes or school uniform - Rukia doesn't need him to fix things, to save her, to fight her battles.
And therein lies the problem.
He wants to.
Because he'd been without her more often than not, and he hates it. The world always seems a little greyer around the edges, the colors a little duller. It's fine. It's not awful. It doesn't rain necessary, but its. Overcast. A little cloudy. A little dark. It's fine. He's fine.
But when they reunite, Rukia always looks a little worn, pulled tight, body tense, voice a little off.
And she's not fine which bothers him.
It takes a few hours, sometimes a few days. It's not a science really, what time apart does to them. But slowly, Rukia unravels like a flower tentatively starting to bloom, and then - then - she's happy - she's herself - and so is he.
So maybe - maybe - it isn't her happiness he's attached to so much as the happiness he receives in turn. He likes himself a little more when she's around, even when she's relentlessly teasing him. It's something his family notices. Something they tease him for whenever he's 'moping' after Rukia's gone again.
They're wrong, he scoffed at the time, but. The idea has been planted, the realization made, and now it won't leave him alone.
He tries to ignore it at first because it's inconvenient - the thought of your happiness being dependent on someone else - it's foolish and selfish, and probably implies something unhealthy about his perception about their relationship.
(What does he care for 'healthy' though? How much of his life and his choices have been healthy? Everyone's got their coping mechanisms, why can't Rukia be his? Except that's not right because Rukia is a person, her own person, not something to be used, and he won't reduce her to that because she means more to him than that, he thinks - he thinks he might lo-)
Ichigo buries it. (Because what does he know about loving someone, really? He's never - he doesn't know - And-and he'll do it wrong because he does that and Rukia can't be loved wrong, she doesn't deserve that and -).
He has other things to think about anyway. (Namely that this could very well ruin their existing relationship. He's read enough books and seen enough dumb teen dramas to know that at least.)
Besides loving Rukia - realizing he loves her - shouldn’t even make his top ten.
After all, he'd been doing it just fine before his family had pointed it out to him. It's best not to even contemplate it. Therein lies madness, and his life is already a level of chaotic he's used to. It's probably for the best not to get too ambitious and add feelings into the mix.
But just like the person to whom the thought inspired, the thought won’t be forgotten, not when they've spawned so many others: I like the way you smile. Blue suits you. Black butterflies are better than rabbits, but if they make you that happy...You can't look at me with those eyes, it's not fair. I haven't heard you laugh today. God, I can't believe I lo-
They stick to the roof of his mouth, make him flush, turn his ears pink.
It’s a bad combination especially when Rukia is raising a brow and teasing, “You think any harder you’ll combust.”
And the words (god, which ones?) almost come out then; it makes his cheeks burn hotter.
It doesn’t help that Rukia laughs at him, carefree and happy, and –
At that moment, a particular line had come to mind (I really hope I can be around to hear every single one of those), but now he’s carrying paragraphs behind his lips, and one way or the other Rukia will pry them out of him because she can read him like a book, and he's never been good at keeping anything from her anyway. And knowing him, his timing will be awful when he finally does say something – though the suggestion of speaking the words at all is enough to send him into a full blown panic.
And so, he takes to writing.
On scraps of paper, on serviettes, in the margins of his notebooks, in the steam of the mirror in the bathroom.
It’s a dangerous game especially the last one. Rukia's either using the shower right after him, or popping her head through the open door to tell him they're going to be late. Though, that isn't to say his other options are any better.
Rukia’s always right there when he’s spilling ink, but that’s no surprise, she’s the reason he’s even writing at all.
He always shoves the evidence into his bag to toss later.
Ichigo may be used to danger, but he doesn’t make it a habit to be stupid too. He’s tempted to get rid of them in the dumpster or set them alight, but that would’ve been a little too obvious.
Still, it works out for awhile. But only for awhile.
He doesn't count on Rukia’s diligence during an extended stay in the living world.
He’s just emptied the accumulation of the day’s thoughts into the bin in his room when Rukia appears to snag it. He knows he can’t stop her, it’d be more suspicious. After all, it’s her turn to take out the trash. He’s tense the whole time though, and only once he sees her at dinner later, none the wiser, does he relax.
At least until she’s telling him, “You know, I think you’re pretty too.”
Ichigo splutters. “What?”
There’s a glint in her eye that’s mischievous, a curve to her smile that’s fond. “I don’t have your way with words, cut me some slack.”
“Who even says they’re about you?” Is his unconvincing response.
And he thinks she’ll tease him, she would. Not because Rukia doesn’t take him seriously, but because Rukia is very good at being his pain-in-the-ass best friend, and that’s a comfortable dynamic, a stable relationship. And Ichigo is putting that on the line, he’s changing the game.
She’d tease him to give him an out – if only because she doesn’t feel the same, and Ichigo’s not sure if he’s grateful for the mercy of that or not.
It turns out he’ll never know.
Not when Rukia sets aside a shoebox full of what can reasonably referred to as “love notes” , shakes her head with a hopeless smile and says, “Because the speed of your world may have been too fast without me in it, but it didn’t move at all for me without you in mine.”