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Ichigo pounded on the bathroom door again.
“Oi, Rukia! How long are you planning on staying there?”
His roommate didn’t respond, and Ichigo’s angry scowl darkened. Seriously, he had wanted to get to bed early, too; his club was having an extra practice in the morning, before classes. He needed to brush his teeth, but of course the damn pipsqueak of a roommate was hogging the bathroom.
Growling under his breath, Ichigo’s fist once again repeatedly met with the resolute wooden surface.
“I’m warning you!” he yelled. “You don’t come out of there in five seconds, I’m going to break this door!”
Eerie silence rang in his ears.
“I mean it!” he threatened.
Still nothing.
That’s it!
“One – “ he started counting in a loud voice.
He reached five. The door stayed locked, and Rukia remained in the bathroom.
“Fine, have it your way then,” Ichigo muttered under his breath, and took a few swift steps back. The third time he rammed into the door shoulder-first, the wood finally gave in and he stumbled into the bathroom.
“See, I told you!” he said, brushing his clothes. “Just so you know, I’ll make sure they’ll bill the repairs to you, since it was because of your insufferable – “
Ichigo’s irritated rant died the second he finally laid eyes on his roommate. Rukia was lying in a heap on the bathroom floor. In his hurry to scramble over to him, Ichigo almost stepped on the hairbrush that had fallen onto the floor.
“Rukia!” he shouted, kneeling down to his side. He grabbed a hold of him, and brushed his hair out of his eyes to see if there were any wounds on him.
Shit, he was burning up!
Instantly, he recalled how yesterday, Rukia had been complaining about a sore throat, and how his voice had been down all day. He must have caught a cold, and now he was running a fever.
“You damn idiot,” Ichigo grumbled, gathering the lithe body into his arms. “Why didn’t you say you were sick?”
Huffing to himself, he stood up, cradling his roommate close to his chest – and then, instantly, he froze.
It felt wrong.
Ichigo’s eyes widened, as his hand automatically traced the shape hidden by Rukia’s big hoodie. There was something on his chest that shouldn’t have been there. The curve of his hip propped against his arms too pronounced.
“Fuck,” Ichigo hissed, staring down at the pale, unconscious face.
It wasn’t like the thought had never crossed his mind before… Hell, the guys had been laughing at Rukia from the start, calling him a shorty, saying he looked girly… but still, Ichigo had never actually believed it to be true. Despite the bunny plushies decorating his bed, there was really nothing that girlish about his behaviour. Rukia was blunt, and an able kendoka. He had a big appetite and was never flustered when Keigo burst into their room in just his underwear.
And yet…
There was no way in hell this body in his arms belonged to a guy.
The inevitable admission finally sinking in, Ichigo flushed bright red and rushed out of the bathroom.
His heart was racing in his chest. His chest, which was pressed tight against his – her – chest. Ichigo’s blush darkened and he hurried across the room. He stopped at Rukia’s bedside and pulled off the covers. Gently, he laid his roommate down and carefully tucked her in. Then, he collapsed onto the floor and buried his face in his hands.
Oh god. Rukia was a girl.
He was sharing a room with a girl.
What should he do? He couldn’t share a room with a girl… But then again, if he told anyone Rukia would likely be expelled, and he really didn’t want that, either. He couldn’t fathom why she would have enrolled herself in an all boys’ school. He couldn’t understand why she needed to go so far as to disguise herself and dress as a boy. But she must have had a reason, a very important one, to go through all the trouble.
No, he had to keep this under the wraps. He wanted Rukia to stay.
Yet, knowing his roommate was in fact a girl… How was he supposed to keep a straight face around her? How was he supposed to meet her eyes?
“Aaaaargh!” Ichigo yelled, scratching his head in helpless frustration.
Then, his stomach suddenly gave a sick lurch.
Rukia!
He had forgotten about Rukia. Instead of worrying about what he should do, he should be worrying about her fever.
He needed ice. And water. And medicine. And something with a lot of Vitamin C.
Scrambling to his feet, Ichigo spurred into action.
Rukia stirred under her blanket. Her head felt fuzzy, her eyelids heavy, and every muscle in her body was aching.
She heard footsteps, followed by a little clatter right by her ear. Groaning, she forced her eyes open.
“You awake?”
“Mmmh.”
Ichigo was awkwardly standing by her bed.
“What happened?” she croaked, her throat dry.
“You’re running a fever. You fainted last night. Here, drink,” Ichigo urged, handing her a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” she rasped, struggling to sit up. She noticed a tray on her nightstand.
“I made you tea, too, if you want something hot instead. There’s medicine so remember to take it. And some rice porridge for breakfast.”
“I didn’t think you knew how to cook.”
“I don’t, I asked my sister for instructions.”
Ichigo fell silent, and Rukia sipped the water.
“Well, anyway,” the orange-haired man continued after a moment, rubbing his neck, “I’ll tell the teachers that you’re sick, so you should just take the day off and rest.”
“Mh, alright,” she sighed. “Thank you,” she smiled tiredly, her eyes locking with his.
“Yeah, whatever,” he spluttered. “I’m late for the practice,” he muttered in a hurry, and quickly left the room.
Rukia sank back into the bed, feeling weak and sore but full of relief.
Thank god Ichigo hadn’t found out her secret.