Archive of Our Own

He hated summer. Though it could be argued, he hated the heat that came with summer more than the season itself. June, in particular, he despised. Staring out the window and focusing on the horizon, he sighed as he spotted the wavy, non-existent reflection of water on the road, yet another hallucination in the middle of the trip. Extending his pale hand and locating the ice bucket by muscle memory, he snatched another practically frozen can of beer and opened it quickly, chugging half of it down right away and releasing an exaggerated exhale afterwards. He slumped down on the seat, turning his head away from the window, and now laying his eyes on his free hand, resting on the seat next to him, slowly reaching out, curling into itself and squeezing as if there was someone there.

But there was no one there.

“Hey, you're out of it again. Please… stop drinking.”

Yeah, he hated heat waves.

The white haired man took another sip out of his beer, then sighed. His free hand was still looking for something- or someone- to grab. Yearning. But there was nothing to grab and pretend. So be it , he thought, and drank some more.

Someone else abruptly grabbed him, however, and he yelped at the feeling of cold beer spilling on his chest. Anger flared up from within him and he bared his teeth, throwing a punch at whoever was messing with him but only hitting the empty seat next to him in the bus. His tired eyes followed the trail of spilled drops of beer until they finally spotted the one responsible.

“Fuck off. Give that back.”

“Did you finish writing our next song? We kinda need that shit soon, yanno. Before our next concert would be ideal.”

He scoffed to the side and tried to reach out for the can on his own instead of waiting, patience wearing dangerously thin, but fell right off the seat and onto his side on the carpeted floor. He heard two different voices laughing at him, and his already shitty mood only threatened to get worse.

“Shut the fuck up, you two!”

“You're a fucking mess, how's that not hilarious?”

“If I could, I would brutally break your fucking neck. See how- hic - how you laugh then, Luppi.”

“Cool, good luck finding another bass guitarist as good as me if you do, Shiro. Oh, right! You won't.”

“You're so full of yourself it makes me fucking sick.”

The shorter man, holding the can of beer above Shirosaki's head, just enough to be out of reach but still painfully obvious to him, only giggled at his words then gave him a middle finger. Another one of their members spoke up and Luppi responded, but the white haired man was just too out of it to process it, or to care at all.

The bus came to an abrupt stop, one that made Luppi almost fall to the side and yell at the driver, while Shirosaki simply rolled on the carpet and hit his back against the metal bars of the seats in front of him. A hiss of pain escaped him, and the sensation, added to the sound of Luppi and Grimmjow yelling at the driver, cleared his head a bit, enough to be able to stand up again and stay upright, though holding onto the closest piece of furniture he could find. He heard something about an animal crossing the road out of nowhere, and Nnoitra's voice came in then, complaining, saying the bus was big and heavy enough to just run it over. Grimmjow practically barked at him saying they weren't monsters and how dare he.

Right… he had cats back at home. His adorable children. Of course he would snap about it. Meanwhile, Shiro's head was spinning. His mouth felt dry and his throat was burning. Was he sweating or was that spilled beer on him? It was too hot inside. Probably even hotter outside.

Looking out the window, he spotted yet another hallucination. Water in the distance. Orange hair waving in the wind. A figure gesturing, as if inviting him to hop off the bus and run to him.

Stop drinking, he repeated. And Shiro would. Back then, at least.

He hated heat waves.

“…I got it.” He suddenly muttered to no one in particular.

Ignoring the odd glances he got his way, he stumbled around the bus and found the small cabinet where he kept his things and took out the notebook he used for brainstorming. He sat down in the back, as far as he could from everyone else, and simply wrote. Scribble, scribble, scratch one idea, write another, change the color of his pen, bite his nails until the black nail polish wears out, back to scribbling, back to discarding, back to adding. A finger tapping and testing a rhythm on the paper, humming a tune in a low voice, changing it, back and forth-

Shiro suddenly roared and threw the notebook across the small space. Grimmjow dodged it just in time, but Nnoitra didn't have the same reflexes. He grunted in annoyance and threw it back, though with far less strength and just letting it fall to the floor. Shiro didn't care. He slumped down on the seat and stared at the light on the ceiling, long enough a weird black spot stayed in his vision for a few seconds after he looked away. A low growl, and he got up and walked over his notebook to pick it up, a blank expression on his face.

While walking back to his seat, he snatched another can of beer.

“You've had enough… please, just stop drinking, Zangetsu.”

“You're not here to tell me what to do.” Shiro whispered to himself, before opening the can and poisoning himself with even more alcohol.

If this was how regretful freedom tasted like, then so be it.

It had been really long since they had any chance to go on a family trip. There were still some days of summer left, and thankfully, he managed to get a few days off before Kazui went back to the daycare. He hoped he would like the beach; the journey to Odaiba wasn’t a short one and driving for so long under the still insistent heat of September was taking a toll on him.

Seeing a chance to stop and refuel both the car and their stomachs, Ichigo pulled over the small station and smiled to himself when he heard his son giggle in the back, amused by whatever. Orihime turned around and gently talked to him, gesturing with her hands and making Kazui giggle more. The orange haired man breathed deeply, and brought a hand up to clean the sweat off his forehead. Not even the car’s air conditioning could save them from the torture that was summer heat.

A cold cloth was placed on him, and he thanked the help with a huff. Inoue chuckled in response.

“Good thing that station was here. You were overheating.”

“I know, why else do you think I pulled over? It’s too hot to be at the end of summer…”

Orihime laughed at Ichigo’s whining tone, but then agreed with him that it was odd weather for that time of the year. She rummaged through her bag and took out Kazui’s feeding bottle, put it aside, then took out the small box where she had packed baby food for him.

“Do you think he’s hungry? Thirsty?”

“Doesn’t look like it, but I bet he won’t refuse a snack, right? Who wants a snack?” Ichigo turned around, using a hand to keep the cold cloth from falling off his forehead, and smiled at his son as he practically sang that last part. Kazui’s happy noises and little clappings made it clear he was up for the offer, and Ichigo gestured at Orihime, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure someone’s up for a snack.”

While she happily took care of that, the orange haired man decided to get out of the car and check out the convenience store to see if he could find a meal for himself and his wife. He couldn’t say it was the cheapest option, considering they were headed to a tourism oriented place and they sure liked to abuse the visitors’ wallets, but at the same time, it wasn’t like they had packed anything for themselves… The bag was full of things for taking care of Kazui and there was no room for a proper bento, even less if it was from Orihime. Still, it was alright. Glancing at the posters from afar, it seemed like he could get a decent teishoku for slightly more than the average price.

It didn’t take him five minutes to walk out carrying a plastic bag with two big lunch boxes inside and some drinks. By the time he did that, Inoue was almost done feeding Kazui, playing airplane and train with the spoon while he enthusiastically clapped his tiny hands. How time flies , he thought. Ichigo felt as if he had been holding his newborn son in his arms not two days ago, yet now he was steadily growing into his baby seat and excitedly touching his new teeth. Almost 10 months old. Both him and Orihime were already looking forward to his first words and bet on who would go first, mommy or daddy. He would give anything to have “dadda” be his first words.

Yeah, how time flies…

“I got one with vegetables, fish… fruits… and… barbeque sauce. You like that one, Inoue?”

“Yes! Thank you! That sounds perfect!”

“Only you would think so… here, careful not to drop it. Enjoy the meal.”

“Thank you for the meal!” The red haired woman clapped her hands together once, then excitedly opened the box and the small plastic package of sauce, covering half the fruits with it and ignoring Ichigo’s visible shudder while he did his own thing. He was about to dive into the first bite when she spoke again. “Hey, Kurosaki, mind if I put on some music? Just to vibe a bit while we eat, yeah?”

“Mhm, sure, just, don’t put anything too heavy, I don’t want Kazui to…”

“No, no! Just the radio will do. They’re mild enough for your taste, haha.”

Ichigo simply nodded and focused on satisfying his hunger while Orihime turned on the radio and struggled for a few seconds to find a proper station. She settled for the one that didn’t have static on it, and was playing a nice, relaxing pop tune. She laid back on the seat, breathed deeply, then copied her husband and finally began eating.

It didn’t take two minutes before they heard a tiny babble coming from behind. Upon catching Kazui’s first lonely complaint, Ichigo hurriedly put his chopsticks down and snatched Orihime’s bag away, making her laugh with how frantic he was. He gave a victorious “aha!” when he found the toy he was looking for, and waved the rattle around in front of Kazui before handing it over. Yeah, that would keep him busy. Now he could eat in peace.

“You know he can handle not having his rattle for a few minutes, right?”

He glanced at Orihime, swallowed the “you’re right” and simply resumed eating in silence. She only chuckled in response, though it almost went unheard amidst the now intense rattling noise coming from behind. The woman countered by raising the radio’s volume by just a bit, ignoring Ichigo’s judging glance and eating like she hadn’t noticed.

“He’ll be fine. You worry too much, Kurosaki.”

Yeah, at times like these, he remembered why he never wanted to marry her.

Kazui was his son. Their son. He took full responsibility when he was conceived and gave him his all since the moment he was born. Kazui was everything to him and he swore he would be the father he didn’t have. He would protect him, support him and make him happy, didn’t matter how. He wouldn’t let him feel alone. And although, maybe, just maybe, Orihime was right and he was being overprotective, he’d rather protect him too much than not spare him a glance when he needed it the most.

And to think it was Orihime the one who wanted to have a baby… if anything, he had hoped she would be more caring than he was. But it turned out to be the opposite. Now there was nothing in this world he wouldn’t give for him.

Deep in his thoughts and eating his food in auto pilot, he didn’t notice the moment when Kazui stopped being noisy and fell almost completely silent. Orihime said something about him liking that song and made faces while talking to him, but Ichigo ignored their shenanigans for the time being. He just wanted to finish his meal.

“Heh, it looks like he really likes the voice! Look at him, Kurosaki, he’s got his little eyes all round!”

“Guess we found a singer he likes.” He muttered, nonchalantly, munching on the fish he had in his mouth.

“He has good taste, this is that song that went viral a bit ago. It’s got a nice ring to it!”

“Yeah, yeah… that… song. Huh? What song?”

Ichigo stopped eating and shifted his focus to the unknown background noise he had ignored up until then. Inoue was still giggling and playing with Kazui, who seemed to be spaced out, but the orange haired man wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He had heard that song before. Of course he had.

If not, there was no reason for him to know exactly whose voice that was- nor who it was about .

“Kurosaki?”

He didn’t want to hear it.

Something resurfaced in his mind, and he closed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to relive those memories, now from too many years ago, but he was just paralyzed, and Orihime hadn’t picked up on it yet. Figures it would go over her head. It had been so long, she probably hadn’t recognized that voice and who it belonged to. Ichigo knew she was just amused by Kazui’s reaction towards it, but if only she had realized before telling him…

He shouldn’t have paid attention. Now that he did, he couldn’t look away anymore.

“Hey, what's wrong? Did you eat something bad?”

Ichigo felt his eyes beginning to well up with tears, and he turned away from Orihime, facing the window. A sob escaped him and he dropped his chopsticks to put his hand over his mouth. The song was already on the second half, meaning his torture would end soon, and Ichigo inwardly rolled his eyes when he heard his wife gasp in realization, yet didn't turn the radio off. No, in fact, she accidentally made it worse.

“Oh, gosh, is that Shirosaki? It's been so long, his voice has changed so much!”

No, it hasn't.

“I'm sorry, Kurosaki, I didn't notice… I didn't think it would still hurt…”

Of course it would. It never stopped hurting.

“He sounds… like he's doing somehow better, don't you think…? It's a nice song, maybe…”

Shut up.

Four agonizing minutes were finally over.

It took Ichigo a moment to recompose. He breathed slowly, deeply, doing everything he could to suppress the need to cry and let it out. Kazui giggled in the back, a car parked a few slots away from them, a group of friends walked by outside and laughed. Focusing on the world around him helped him remember everything kept moving, all the time, always. Things would go on without him, and that was his only comfort.

Everything moves on. Even Shirosaki. And that song was proof he had moved on.

However, was it a comfort if it also reminded Ichigo he was the one who hadn’t ?

“Sweetie, are you ok? Do you need water?”

He sighed, then shook his head.

“I’m fine.” He muttered. “Let’s just wrap this up so we can get going.”

“We’re not in any rush, you know? Take your time and…”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

Inoue didn’t have it in her to argue with Ichigo about it, more so knowing this had partially been her fault, so she simply nodded and turned away from him, eating the last piece of her teishoku and quickly cleaning up. She hopped off the car and went to dump everything into the closest trash can, glancing at the convenience store for one second but finally running back to the car. She was hoping she could get something for Ichigo, a chocolate, perhaps, but it didn’t look like they had any of that.

There was nothing she could do about it. So instead, she simply let him be, and decided to wait until he had cooled down on his own.

It wouldn’t be good for appearances if they arrived at his dad’s summer house in a bad mood, after all.

“You’ve been married for years, to a wonderful woman, had a wonderful son, and you’re telling me you still haven’t gotten over that bastard!?”

“Oh, shut up, it’s been so long and you still can’t even call him by his name!”

Murphy’s law, if something can go wrong, it will go wrong.

It hadn’t been Ichigo’s fault, somehow, miraculously, but there was no way to avoid that conversation once Yuzu brought up “that viral song going around”, and Isshin’s reply was as harsh as expected, and Ichigo snapped at him, and Karin unsuccessfully told them to drop it. No, Ichigo’s defiant “I’m not going to drop it, not this time” was all Isshin needed to hear to go off, as if that sentence had enabled him to be an asshole in front of his own grandson. Orihime had taken Kazui to another room and Yuzu followed them at lightspeed, seemingly oh so eager to show Kazui her old toys and let him play to keep him calm. Ichigo and Isshin were already raising their voices in the living room, soon starting to yell at each other, and neither of them were willing to back off. Obviously.

“Ichigo, there’s no way you can be this immature. He hurt you. He hurt all of us. You have to let him go once and for all and forget he ever happened in your life. You can’t start to heal if you don’t!”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to gaslight me, old man.”

“Watch your tone, son!”

“Watch my tone!? Excuse you, I’m an adult now, and you said it, I’m married, I have a son, a job, a house, a life of my own. I think I’ve earned the damn freedom to speak however I want! So you tell me, old man, did he hurt me!? Did he, really!? Or is that the lie you told yourself so you wouldn’t have to carry with the guilt of having fucking destroyed your own son’s feelings!?”

“Good lord, Ichigo!” Isshin gasped, and the orange haired man couldn’t tell if it was genuine astonishment or simply another one of his father’s theatrical tricks to fool him into backing off and apologizing. “How can you accuse me of that!? I did what was best for you, you know how far down the rabbit hole he was going, and if I hadn’t saved you, he would’ve dragged you down with him!”

Ichigo’s fists tightened violently and his expression morphed into one of utter disbelief. It took him a few blinks and painfully gritted teeth to snap himself back to reality and fire at his father again.

“Saved me? Saved me!? You literally almost got him into jail! You made me feel the worst I’ve ever had in my fucking life because you were- you still are a disgusting homophobe and you couldn’t fathom your perfect son being happy with a man!”

“You take that back right now-”

“No I’m not going to take it back, and shut up, I’m not done!” The younger man lashed out with one of his arms, dangerously close to accidentally hitting Isshin and one of the abandoned cups on the table. He tried to recompose himself so as to not make a real disaster, but he was already furious and his self control had been thrown out the window. “You keep saying it was because he got out of control, drank too much, and got violent right in front of your eyes! You keep saying he was toxic and full of red flags! You keep saying it was for my own good! Who the fuck were you to decide what was good for me!? You just couldn’t accept that your son was g-!”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

“Oh my God, see!? You can’t even stand to hear it!”

“Your son is in the room right next to us and probably hearing everything!”

“ He’s not even a year old! ” Ichigo practically screamed. “Do you really think he’s going to understand what this whole thing is about!? I’m his father and I’ll at least try my hardest to do a better job than what you ever could, so don’t you dare attempt to use him against me just because you don’t want to hear the damn truth!”

“Don’t you talk to me in such a tone! I’m still your father and you owe me respect!”

“Oh! And what if I don’t give a shit about it? If I don’t think you deserve an ounce of respect from me? What are you going to do? Call the police and fuck it up all over again!? ”

“That’s enough already!”

The two men had been unconsciously walking closer to the other, to the point where their foreheads were about to clash and press into each, both still raising their tone, until a third voice had to yell and snap them out of it.

The burden to stop them from fighting fell on Karin, whose tone was furious, yet terrified.

Glancing at her once was enough to break Ichigo’s heart. She had never been one to cry, that was more of a Yuzu thing, but the wet redness on her eyes, her clenched, trembling fists and the waver in her voice told him this had gone too far and pushed her to her limit, perhaps even past. He blinked and slowly let it sink in, the fact Yuzu, Orihime and Kazui were indeed not there anymore, Karin’s rage, how close he was to Isshin, his boiling blood, and how painfully hot his entire body felt. He felt his shoulders slump down, a sudden tiredness taking over.

He was about to say something after breathing deeply, but Karin won him to it. Her voice was less shaky, but the fear was still evident in it.

“If any of you start a fight, I’ll be the one calling the police! And Ichi-nii, I’m sorry, but if I have to, I’ll… I’ll tell them to keep you away from Kazui!”

His heart froze.

There was a moment of tense silence. Karin was at least expecting a surprised gasp from Isshin, but all she got out of him was a judgemental glare at Ichigo. She growled under her breath and pointed at him in an accusatory manner.

“And you, don’t act as if I’m on your side, old man! I said ‘if any of you’, I’m more than willing to call the cops on you too for violence! And against your own children, to make it worse! Are you crazy!?”

“Violence!? What are you-!?”

“You know what I’m talking about! Don’t act as if you’re the best dad after everything! You never were! If mom was here-!”

“ Karin! ”

Ichigo had to yell.

Another beat of silence. The black haired teenager’s shoulders were the ones to shrink this time.

It wasn’t every day she heard her older brother shout like that.

“That’s far enough. Don’t… call the cops. Don’t do anything. It’s enough.” His mouth was twisted in a bittersweet grimace, torn between ending it for everyone’s sake, yet admitting defeat while doing so. He didn’t want to back off from this talk, he wanted to have it, to smack his father in the face and let out all of his pent up anger from so many years, come to terms with his tragedy by punching the one responsible for most of it.

However, it wasn’t worth it if it meant possibly losing his only real joy in life. His son.

“I’m off to sleep. We’re leaving tomorrow at dawn.”

“Ichi-nii-”

“I’m not going to be the cause of anything else here. I came to have a good time with my wife and son. I’m not losing that, I refuse to lose the only good thing I have left. Good night.”

His tone made it clear the conversation was over. The orange haired man didn’t make another sound as he turned around and stomped away, straight to his room, and practically smashed the door shut. It was a matter of seconds before he was naked and flopping down on the bed, quickly curling up and throwing the sheets over himself. When they were over visiting his family, Orihime would have her own room and sleep there with Kazui, while he would keep his old one and rest alone.

Right then, that was his biggest blessing. He wasn’t in the right mindset to have someone wrap around him and whisper words of comfort into him when he knew there was no real love behind it.

He didn’t want this. He never wanted any of this. But if he couldn’t have the man he loved, he might as well settle with the best second option. Lowering his head and accepting the expectations both his father and society had of him was hard, but after everything, it was a weight he could bear. With difficulty, but he could. After all, it wasn’t like either of them had a choice- rather, any of them. Orihime was unhappy, unable to stay with the woman she loved; Rukia was unhappy, being shoved into an arranged marriage and dragged away from her life long friends; Renji was unhappy, stuck doing a job he never wanted, dropping out of college and knowing he would never be where he wanted to be since he was never “good enough”; Uryu and Chad were unhappy, having to give up their dreams for the future in favor of having a job and enough money to survive, and there went Ishida’s excitement for being a fashion designer, now a doctor under his father’s always present, always piercing gaze, and Chad’s righteousness, now probably buried under a stack of papers in a plain office with a phone constantly ringing and annoying him.

(Him? He couldn’t be sure. Not after hearing that song. But perhaps he had finally found happiness amidst the misery. Perhaps the song was proof he moved on. Who knew.)

All things considered, Ichigo’s tragedy was something he could manage. More so because he did have a source of happiness, small and squishy looking with hair as bright as his and with as much energy as him when he was a baby. Perhaps mom would be proud to see him now.

He drifted to sleep thinking, perhaps, someone in this world would be happy to see him like that. However, as saddening as it was, he would never know for sure.

“You know, it really pisses me off to see you like this.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes for the third time in that hour and sighed loudly, ignoring Tatsuki’s intense stare and frown directed at him. Nonchalantly, he pointed at the menu and glanced at her, his expression morphing into a question.

“So, what are you gonna eat? I only have forty five minutes of break. Probably thirty something left. I’d appreciate it if you hurried up.”

“You’re not even listening to me- alright, alright! I’ll take today’s special.”

“Find a table while I order.”

“Sure thing, but don’t take too long, I told you I had to tell you something import-”

“Table. There. Quick, go claim it.”

“Oh, fine , Ichigo, fine.”

It wasn’t often he got to hang out with an old friend like this, so even if he knew he was being a pain in the ass, it was worth it in favor of reliving the good old days. From their newly acquired spot, Tatsuki gave Ichigo an annoyed, yet friendly grin, letting him know she understood he was being a shit on purpose. There was nothing wrong with a bit of teasing after all.

Five minutes later he was sitting down in front of her, handing over her food and quickly snapping the chopsticks to dive into his lunch. She chuckled at the sight and calmly snapped her own while opening her mouth to speak.

“I can see you have the appetite and eating speed of a good salary man. You sure have changed a lot.”

“I have to eat faster than I’d like because I prefer to be punctual for work. It boosts my reputation, maybe someday enough for a promotion.”

“Right, right… that’s all you’re worried about nowadays, I guess…”

“So, you said you had something to talk about? I can eat and listen.”

“I do, yes, but I’d rather not have you choke on your rice.”

“Ha, ha, very funny, I already got over that time with Orihime’s onigiris. My pride remains untouched.”

Tatsuki snorted, covering her mouth with her hand so as to not spill anything, and gave Ichigo a silly grin after she recovered. He chuckled at the sight.

“I actually forgot about that, but thanks for reminding me, another weapon for my arsenal.”

“Oh, no, what shall I do.” Sarcasm dripped off his tone. “Here’s hoping you find a new face you can tell that silly story to.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Her grin widened into a smirk, to which Ichigo replied by raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Next thing he knew, Tatsuki was taking pieces of paper out of her bag and smugly waving them in front of him. It was too fast for him to read what was on them, but they looked like tickets. He questioningly extended his hand to grab them, but she suddenly pulled them back and didn’t allow him to reach. All the while, her smirk hadn’t even wavered.

“Guess who’s coming to town!”

“I’m… sorry?”

“Surely you saw the ads, right? No way you missed his face.”

Ichigo stopped.

“ No .”

“You better believe it, bud!”

“You didn’t- no, there’s no way-”

“I got tickets? Yeah, I surprised myself too. But hey, martial arts champion here, I had enough money to spare for them, and early access smiled upon me. Now all that’s left is getting you the weekend free and we’re all going to-!”

“ No we are not. ” Ichigo’s tone suddenly changed, and any trace of friendly calmness left him. If only they hadn’t been in a public space, he knew he would’ve blown up. That was the only thing holding him back from making a scene. He was doing an effort to keep his voice as controlled as possible and not raise it too much, though by the way Tatsuki looked at him, he assumed that task had already been failed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Have you any idea how bad this is? I’m truly sorry you wasted your money, but we’re not going. I am not going.”

She frowned.

“You gonna say that to my face right after your messed up vacation with Orihime and little Kazui? I’m doing this because you need some fucking closure or you’re gonna keep bleeding forever.”

He tightened his fists and Tatsuki noticed his jaw tensed up. Probably gritting his teeth, she assumed.

“Did Inoue tell you about that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s not something you need to know.” She sighed before continuing. “Look, it wasn’t just her on board with the idea, it was everyone. None of us like to see you like this, Ichigo.”

“Everyone being who?”

“Stop trying to stray away from the point! Chad is working on getting you a babysitter for Kazui, and it’s not just you going to this thing, it’s all of us, so don’t feel like I’m shoving you in there to solve it alone. Do you think you’re the only one who misses him? Do you think you were the only one hurt by the shit show that happened back then?”

Ichigo gulped, suddenly finding it extremely hard to get food into his stomach. A knot had settled in his throat and he could feel the cold sweat running down his face. This wasn’t what he had expected when Tatsuki contacted him to go out and eat lunch together in the middle of the week.

In response, she took his silence as an invitation to continue.

“I got way too excited when I saw he would be coming to Karakura since, you know, he never came back after his leap of faith and becoming famous afterwards. The fact he’s coming might even be a sign, Ichigo. Think about it. The song that went viral, don’t you think that plus coming to Karakura means something?”

“ Yes , I do.” He practically cut her off. “His damn song means he moved on and so should I. It’s over. He can finally come to Karakura because he’s not hurting anymore. And you know what? At this point, I think I’m finally getting over it too. So I’m not-”

“Did you even take the time to listen to the song?”

He nodded tensely.

“Yes, I did. Why do you ask?”

“Then you didn’t understand a word of what he meant.”

He blinked. Tatsuki took another deep breath and leaned back on her seat.

“He misses you. Don’t be an idiot, this one time, yeah?” She extended her hand and left two tickets in front of Ichigo, then taking the rest and saving them in her bag again. “It’s up to you to take that first step and show up there this Saturday. Just… give this a shot. This one time. It’s all I… it’s all we ask. As your friends.”

“...and what if I can’t do it? What if I can’t even look him in the eye?”

“I’ll give you a gold star for trying. An effort was made.”

Both plates were almost empty by then. With one last sigh, Tatsuki stood up and grabbed her things, handing over the money for her food and muttering a goodbye to Ichigo. He couldn’t move as he watched her slowly walk away, frozen in shock, only barely waving back at her when she turned around and gestured at him. He could feel the urge to break down and cry bubbling up, but appearances mattered more in that second. He quickly wiped his eyes, knowing he had teared up a little, and began collecting his things, ready to leave and go back to work.

The knot that had settled in his throat never left. When he made it back to the office, he couldn’t even greet the receptionist. An empty, quick wave, and he rushed to the elevator, feeling the stare of the whole world on him. At least in there, for a few seconds, he was certain he would be alone.

In his hand, he was gripping the tickets like a lifeline. However, he wasn’t crushing them. However, he hadn’t ripped them to pieces or thrown them away. However, the way he was biting his lower lip and containing the tears made it obvious there was nothing but a conflicted turmoil inside him. His heartbeat clogged his ears and, as if in slow motion, he brought his hand slightly up and opened it, staring at the two pieces of paper with all the information written on them.

‘Heat waves tour’, huh. Ichigo wondered if he had been the one to choose the name.

Breathing out in sync with the elevator’s ding and the opening doors, he shakily put the tickets in his pocket and arranged the neck of his shirt, walking out and heading straight to his desk. He still had much work to do, there was no time for a break. He had only agreed to meet up with Tatsuki because he felt guilty for pushing her away for so many years; normally, it was easier to skip lunch and get a snack from one of the vendings machines then go back to his assigned paperwork.

Except, right before he took his seat, he stopped. Background noise reached his ears and became clearer as he focused. Amazing timing for the radio station to smack him with that well known, extremely unique voice again. Some of his coworkers were talking. He heard someone comment that it was a nice song. Very romantic, very nostalgic. Like a bleeding heart. A lot of people could relate to it, probably. The radio grew louder as Ichigo focused more on it than in the conversation. Hesitantly, he stepped away from his desk and slowly walked towards it. He wasn’t exactly thinking when he took out his phone and searched for the lyrics. His other hand went into his pocket and absent mindedly felt the tickets, as if seeking confirmation they were still there.

Had he really misunderstood the song?

“Had a good break, Kurosaki?”

The sudden interruption snapped him out of his fantasy and he yelped in surprise. Ichigo straightened his back and sharply turned around, putting up his best serious expression and hiding any trace of insecurity and nostalgia. One solid nod, and he spoke.

“Yes, I did, thank you for asking. How was yours, mister Shunsui?”

“Just Shunsui is fine, Kurosaki.” The older man chuckled and casually got a rogue bang of hair out of his face. “My break was good, thank you. It’s not often I see you go out to eat properly, what’s the occasion?”

Ichigo’s mouth twisted into a forced smile.

“I was meeting up with an old friend, nothing serious, sir.”

“Oh, that sounds nice! It’s always good to meet up with acquaintances and have some social life, especially for you. Say, while we’re on this, do you have plans for the weekend?”

“N… no, sir.” He hoped his puzzled expression was convincing enough. “Why? Do you need me to work extra? I can do that, of course, I’m availa-”

“No, by God, not again! I was going to say you’ve been working extremely hard lately, and since you met up with this friend, I thought perhaps it would be a good opportunity for you to take some time off. You’re an outstanding employee and I think you could use a moment to relax.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, it’s nice to make plans and feel young again, don’t you think? You’re going to become old and grumpy if you don’t. Like Byakuya.” He paused to chuckle. “So, I’ll say it again. Take the weekend off.”

“Are… are you sure, sir? What if there’s an emergency and I’m needed during the weekend?”

The brown haired man gave Ichigo a judging look, and he gulped in response. Kyoraku ended up sighing and placing a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder.

“You work too much and I’d rather you don’t fall sick because of it. Rest, Kurosaki, all of your coworkers agree you do far too much every day. You even skip lunch. Stop trying to impress me and take care of yourself this time, yes?”

“I’m… sorry, sir, I just want to do my best and… maybe someday aim for a prom-”

“Yes, yes, I’m already working on it, we can talk about your promotion more in depth next week. Sounds good?”

Ichigo blinked.

“What?”

Kyoraku simply smiled and didn’t say anything else. Tilting his head slightly to the side, as if questioning, waiting for an answer, Ichigo understood the message and nodded in response.

“Thank you, sir, I’ll take the weekend off… with your permission.”

“Good to hear! Now let’s get back to those documents, it’s still the middle of the week and there’s a lot to do!” Shunsui’s enthusiasm drowned out any and all traces of nervousness left in Ichigo. Sighing with a smile, he nodded to his boss again and quickly went to sit down at his desk.

Quietly, without anyone noticing, he took one last minute to send a text to Orihime.

Am free on saturday. Tell Tatsuki pls.

He questioned adding a ‘send her this for me’ and a middle finger emote, but his inner voice insisted against. He could save that for afterwards- whether things went right or wrong. He was still going to flip her off.

“You look nervous. What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

He wasn’t expecting an interruption while in the middle of his before-concert beauty routine. Taken by surprise, he snapped his head around and growled without thinking, almost ruining the eyeliner he had been working on. Grimmjow was unbothered, simply leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, one of his guitars hanging off his back without a care. A short sound of annoyance escaped Shiro’s lips before turning back to face his mirror and checking his looks one last time.

Yeah, this was the good one. He was almost certain.

“Are you ignoring me? C’mon, stop that already. This is the third time you’ve done that shit today.”

“Do you mind ?”

“Of course I fucking mind. You’re my friend.”

Shirosaki snorted, but to Grimmjow it sounded like a threat.

“Tch, since when…”

“You’ve never been so nervous before a concert. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“So you don’t collectively screw it up? You just want the concert to go well. You don’t really care.”

The blue haired man gritted his teeth and walked closer, firmly stepping into the room and closing the door behind him so they would have some privacy. The white haired man gave another annoyed sigh and turned around to stare at Grimmjow, and they practically pierced each other with their glares.

“Now you’re being fucking insufferable. Just spill it. Can you at least trust me?”

“I’m fine. Get out.”

“No you ain’t and I can tell. I’m not leaving until you at least tell me why. Hell, I don’t know, just one word will do, Shiro.”

He didn’t want to talk about it, he really didn’t, but the problem was that deep down he knew the only friend, the last friend he had in that miserable life, was the blunt and exasperating blue haired man standing near him. The one who made being in the band bearable. His lips pressed together into a tense, thin line, and Grimmjow was almost certain he saw the smallest quiver on them. He sighed, slumping his shoulders down and relaxing his crossed arms.

“Look man, just… just spill it. I won’t tell anyone, just let me be here for you, I know you fucking love to carry all your burdens alone. Open up a little or you’re gonna explode at some point.”

“I already did once, okay?” Shiro practically hissed at Grimmjow, but the latter didn’t even flinch. “I learned my lesson. Not gonna happen again. Case closed.”

“Do you mean how you blow up every day, or some other screw up from your conveniently mysterious past that gets all the fans swooning over the cool quiet character full of trauma?”

Shiro blinked.

“Wow. Straight to the point. You shit.”

“I do read comments ‘bout us on social media, it’s amazing how deep people can overanalyze bullshit. You’re that kind of stereotype for them. Now I wonder, is that what you wanna be known for? Sexy but edgy fucker?”

“Is that what I look like?”

“It’s kinda obvious you suffer, at least to them. You haven’t answered my question though. What happened?”

Yellow eyes strayed away from the intense blues boring into them, and Shirosaki turned again to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Grimmjow waited in silence until Shiro was done scanning himself and faced him again. His eyes were still focused elsewhere, avoiding Grimm’s gaze, but that was fine. So long as Shiro spilled the beans and told him some of the truth, he didn’t mind.

“You know that damn song that everyone seemed to like more than all the shit we’ve made before?”

“Oh, hell I do. Even I’m getting a little tired of it…”

“It was supposed to be a vent. I hate how it blew up.”

“Ah…” Grimmjow didn’t seem surprised, but he still clicked his tongue to fake confusion. “So it wasn’t just because you were overheating in the bus?”

“...Tell me that’s a joke.”

“Of course it is, dumbass.”

Shirosaki sighed while nodding.

“Like I said, that shit was meant to be a vent song, but I guess people decided to love my worst work…”

“Does that have anything to do with you being a nervous fuck today?”

He nodded again.

“Karakura is my hometown.”

It took Grimmjow a few seconds of silence to realize the implications of that simple statement. His raised eyebrows quickly morphed into a frown, and he was the one to slowly move his head this time in an attempt to show he understood.

“Is that why you never wanted to perform here?”

“I’m aware mister manager wasn’t happy about it, but yeah… I didn’t want to come back here for a couple of reasons. Mostly…”

“ ‘Sometimes all I think about is you’ ?”

The white haired man bit his lower lip and stared at the floor, as if suddenly found guilty.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Not really… I just connected the dots. Sorry it took me so long, I didn’t know you had that kind of history here.”

“It’s not a nice history.” He sighed again. There was frustration in his frame, but it was easily shadowed by resignation. It hurt, but not as much as it probably used to, Grimmjow assumed. “A lot happened in this small town. Back when I used to think it was huge, and then I left to study music, and then I realized just how miserably insignificant it all was. All the places we’ve gone to have taught me what I thought was a huge mess that changed everything was just… nothing.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Shirosaki shook his head, and Grimmjow nodded.

“I’ll tell you someday, when the wound completely closes. For now, I’m still stuck… but we’ll see how it goes. Maybe this one concert will change things.”

“Do you know the difference between wounds and scars?”

The pale man stared at his friend and gave him an awkward smile. He briefly showed his wrists and hid them as soon as he saw Grimmjow’s face of realization.

“Ah, shit, no, I didn’t mean those… sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s fine.” A humorless chuckle. “What were you going to say?”

“I was gonna say… you know this isn’t a wound for you, it’s clearly a scar. You’re not gonna get over it so easily, hell, it’s obvious it’s been haunting you for years. Just one song, just one concert… it ain’t gonna be over.”

Shirosaki blinked, but then looked away and put up a pained smile on his lips. The blue haired man fell quiet, knowing there wasn’t much more to say as of then. Part of him was happy he finally got this small piece of information about his closest friend, after years of playing together in the band, but another, more pressing side of him was just worried over how much he had been hurting in silence and for so long.

Still… It was a start.

“I know these things aren’t going to be enough… but expecting that person to show up and be willing to make up and forgive me is like asking for a miracle. It’s not going to happen. And that’s fine. I’m fine like this.”

“...I guess you’re right…”

Grimmjow admitted defeat and slumped his shoulders. Reality was harsh, but he could at least attempt to offer some comfort. He wasn’t good at it, so he simply put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and hoped that would do the trick.

Somehow, it did.

“How long till the concert starts?” Yellow eyes stared at Grimmjow, waiting for an answer. “You think we got time to practice once?”

“Well, I have my guitar here, so…” he chuckled. “If you get me a seat, I guess we can give it a shot.”

Shirosaki grinned.

“Sure. Let me go get you a chair.”

It was frighteningly easy to recall why he hated coming to these kinds of events so much. The crowd was too big for his liking, he had to practically be dragged around by the arm by his friends and wife so as to not get lost, and even though the concert hadn’t even started yet, he already felt like everything was simply too loud.

Yeah, this was definitely not his comfort zone, but there was no turning back at that point. Not when they had finally reached the entrance and their tickets were marked and Tatsuki hurried them to the VIP area as if life depended on it. Uryu led the way as if he had studied the whole place beforehand, which Ichigo assumed was probably the case, and they reached their destination before he could come up with any excuse to mask his regret and back off from the situation.

It really was a ‘now or never’ scenario.

“Hey, Inoue?” Ichigo’s voice came out sounding like a squeak, and his wife giggled in response but stopped upon seeing his annoyed frown. “Have you heard anything from the babysitter?”

She shook her head with a smile that didn’t help ease his nerves.

“Nope, last thing I knew they were going to watch some videos together, eat, then put him to sleep.”

“What are they eating?” He regretted asking as soon as Tatsuki turned around to glare at him. “What? I’m just worried. Any father would be in this situation.”

“Could you at least trust Chad’s judgment? He spent a long time finding you a good one, you know.” She growled at him. Ichigo glanced at Chad, feeling guilty under the pressure of his stare, then nodded. “Good. Now calm down and wait, the concert should start soon.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

The black haired girl almost lunged at him.

“Oh for fuck ’s sake, Ichigo, you already did twice! No, you’re staying here!”

“Fine, fine!” He raised his hands defensively and backed off. He ignored Inoue and Uryu’s soft laughter at the scene and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to divert his attention to something else.

He heard Tatsuki ask something else and Uryu answered, Chad handed over water bottles, Uryu walked away for a few seconds to make a phone call, Inoue was taking photos. Not two minutes later, Renji and Rukia joined the gang, having arrived a bit later than expected, but ‘better late than never’, the redhead joked to hide his embarrassment. Focusing on all these little things, Ichigo managed to calm himself and settle down; now all that was left to do was wait for the event to start.

Looking over the audience expectantly waiting around them, the orange haired man felt some kind of knot beginning to form inside him. All these people were here for him. Well, perhaps not him exactly, but for his music, however Ichigo was plenty aware how fans usually lost sight of what bands were truly made of and ended up thirsting over the visible face. At this point, he had probably experienced so much love already from all those people, and enjoyed the rush of being wanted, desired, appreciated.

Amidst such a huge crowd, even if Ichigo tried, would he be recognized? In a far past, his orange hair would’ve definitely stood out, but right then he could distinguish people with rainbow-colored bangs, some neon blues kindly accompanied by equally bright cyan eyeliner, and a couple of cosplayer-looking fellas with sickly white hair and skin. He sighed and looked away. There was no way he would be able to catch his eye during the concert.

‘Might as well give up’, Ichigo thought to himself.

Right as that crossed his mind, all the lights shut down. A murmur of excitement filled the background, a few whistles and impatient cheers being heard after a couple of seconds, smartphone lights rising up and getting ready to record. Ichigo noticed some other person in the VIP area talking to their phone, camera up and streaming the event. Not just the people there, but the whole world was excited for this. Thousands, if not millions of fans.

In this sea of adoration, Ichigo understood he was, indeed, a nobody.

“Hey, Ichigo, are you alright?” Tatsuki pulled him out of his thoughts, and Ichigo lowered his head to look at her before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Or at least I think I will b-”

The exploding sound of an electric guitar almost gave him a heart attack, making him cover his ears by reflex. He didn’t even process the drums and the bass making an appearance. His friends looked like they were beaming with happiness and staring at something on the stage, and Ichigo didn’t have time to brace for the incoming impact when he snapped his head around to look in the same direction.

Up on the stage, lights finally turned back on with a flash so brutal and sudden it blinded him for solid five seconds.

“What’s up, Karakura town!?”

And there he was.

The violent feeling that assaulted Ichigo couldn’t be compared to anything he felt in all those years. That voice, in real life, sparked something in him that none of the times he heard it on the radio did. No matter how many times he played his songs on loop in his computer, it never felt the same. His brain, his heart didn’t understand that was the voice of the same man he once loved, perhaps because deep inside he knew it really wasn’t. It was nothing but an empty recording of someone he could no longer recognize.

But that one, right there, was his voice. More than his voice, it was him. His hair, his skin, his eyes, his frame, his presence.

That was the “Shiro” everyone loved. The Zangetsu he once loved.

The music was far louder than he had anticipated, but it felt like everyone else just wanted it even louder . He recognized Tatsuki’s laugh and some comment about him looking like a frightened chick, followed by Orihime, Rukia and Renji’s laughter, but Ichigo didn’t mind them. It wasn’t like he was processing it anyways. He knew this music would be raunchy, rather hard on the ears, and very aggressive, the kind of noise that would make every organ inside him vibrate in discomfort. The extremely explicit lyrics weren’t any better, and he tried his best to tune them out; he didn’t want to add unwilling arousal to his mix of emotions. All things considered, he could say almost for certain he wasn’t a fan and he still couldn’t handle the noise, not even when he prepared himself for it in the previous days.

Still, he decided he would stay and see the whole concert through.

There was something he had to know. No matter what.

Waiting for the first song to end, Ichigo scanned the scenario and tried to tell apart the members he knew for sure were in the band. Hell, he hadn’t even taken the time to learn their name as a group, but he could at least recognize the guitarist, a guy with bright blue hair, the drummer, a tall and lanky man with straight black hair that went down past his shoulders, the bass guitarist (or at least so he assumed), a way smaller black haired guy, and of course, the main voice, Shiro, as everyone knew him by. His fake name. True, it suited him, but in Ichigo’s head, he was Zangetsu. Always was, always would be.

Damnit, he hated how hot his face felt when Shiro finished singing and spoke normally again. It was that voice, that cursed yet wonderful voice that had haunted him for years.

“Hey, hey there, people, I can tell you’re all super excited to start, that’s for fucking sure!” For reasons unknown to Ichigo, there was a loud cheer with that last part. “It’s great to be here, we’re all happy to be here, and we’re all really fucking eager to light this shit on fire, so come on! I want to hear y’all screaming! Let’s! Fucking! Go!!”

Ichigo had been so focused on those words that the loud, unexpected shock of an electric guitar going off with all its might made him flinch and bring his hands up to cover his ears, again . At that point, he didn’t care about his friends and wife laughing at him. All he cared about was the voice of the man he loved, shouting to the top of his lungs a song about sex, drugs and alcohol.

But Ichigo knew better. It was a song about the far past. About the collection of buried memories neither of them wanted to face.

Middle finger raised at the partner’s father, frantically calling the police . Glass bottle flying, barely missing the target, shattering against the wall and spilling blood on the carpet .

He guessed everyone was grateful his songs were gender neutral, since that made it easy to identify with them-

Overprotective like a mad lion, howling louder than an injured wolf, biting harder than a starving crocodile .

-but they would never know there were two broken hearts out there who knew exactly what this whole thing was about.

Beaten down and back up for the one and only I love, if they want to get me away, they’ll have to chain me and force me to obey.

If only they knew.

“Alright, people, how are we doing so far?”

There was a loud cheer of excitement, and Shiro barked a laugh through the speakers and gulped down some more of his bottle- when did he get that on stage?- before grabbing the microphone again.

“We’ve been going off for some good two hours now, what do you all say we relax just once?”

Two hours? Did he say two hours? No way- oh, yeah. Trusty watch never lies. Caught up in his shocked thoughts, he didn’t notice the slightly louder cheer in the back. The audience knew what Shiro meant. Of course they did.

“ Lovely , if you insist…”

He let out an odd sigh, and the audio was good enough it even registered his nervous gulp. His head replayed the words he had practiced before. His last minute idea of a speech. One deep inhale, and he leaned into the mic.

“Hey, ya know, I didn’t wanna come back to my hometown to perform, but the producer insisted for months, so here I am.”

Was his voice trembling? Ichigo could swear he heard it, that small shaking that could easily be confused with adrenaline.

But he knew better.

“King, if you’re out there, I hope you hear this.”

The audience didn’t know what Shiro meant, but Ichigo did. Of course he did.

So that song truly was for him.

The world is suddenly swirling for the orange haired man. He grips the nearest chair, trying to keep his balance, but he knows he’s not going to be able to for too long. It’s hard to breathe, it’s the same sensation as always, as every time he hears the song, on the radio, on the computer, anywhere.

Heat waves. Zangetsu’s declaration to Ichigo.

I still love you.

“Easy there, Ichigo.”

The addressed man blinked, only then realizing he was being held up by the arm. Tatsuki. He slowly came back to himself, regaining his balance and managing to stand on his own. His friend stared at him with worry, and he noticed the others were just a little behind her, questioning yet worried frowns directed at him.

Crap, he didn’t like to be the cause of those pained faces.

“Ah…” He breathed deeply. “I’m alright, really, it’s just…”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just go and run up there” Tatsuki tried to throw a teasing joke to ease Ichigo’s nerves, but it flew right over his head. That much was obvious.

More so because he had trailed off, staring at the man singing on the stage, biting his lower lip and tearing up.

“It’s really him, isn’t it…?” He asked no one in particular.

Orihime pressed her lips together, and she took one step forward to try and talk to him, offer some form of comfort, but Tatsuki stopped her. Holding her back through the gentle grip of her hand, the black haired woman shook her head and smiled at the red head. This wasn’t the right moment for it and they both knew. They all knew.

You look so broken when you cry.

Ichigo gritted his teeth and lowered his head, hiding it from everyone. This was it, the line he couldn’t stand.

One more, and I’ll say goodbye.

He cried.

“Don’t leave…” He whispered, voice so low and fragile it was completely lost amidst the sea of cheers.

This was not how it was supposed to go, but holding his feelings back was no longer an option. Gripping the stage barriers to the point where his knuckles turned white, repressed tears flowed out and stained the stone floor, drops violently falling from the eyes of a now shaking Ichigo.

Coward. He had been a coward. All those years back then, there was so much more he could’ve done to save both of them, simply so much more. He could’ve stood up to his father and stopped him from calling the cops. He could’ve stood up to Zangetsu and stopped him from getting so drunk and violent that night. He could’ve kept it quiet that he was dating him.

He could’ve taken Zangetsu’s offer and ran away with him. They could’ve been happy. But he had been a coward and failed the one he loved the most, making them both miserable for the rest of their lives.

Now he finally had the chance to do something about it.

Ichigo was blinking, dumbfounded. Tatsuki was shrugging at him, a sheepish smile on her face and eyebrows arched up in nervousness.

“You… you said you would all be there with me.”

“Sorry, I honestly forgot to tell you that only one of the tickets comes with meet-and-greet. I’m not that rich, Ichigo.”

“ Tatsuki. ”

Her smile widened, and Uryu stepped forward to give the orange haired man a soft bump on his shoulder. He ignored how Ichigo looked like a kicked puppy and motioned for him to walk into the backstage, the staff member behind them waiting patiently for them to decide who would be the lucky one.

“Don’t make a fuss, Kurosaki, it’s not that hard.”

Ichigo glared at him. The black haired man sighed and adjusted his glasses in response.

“We’ve gotten this far with it, might as well finish it, right?”

“I will… I will die. I am going to die.” Ichigo carefully, slowly deadpanned.

“No you won’t, you’ve faced worse.”

“This is how I die.”

“You looked so determined half an hour ago, get in there before I kick your ass!” He flinched at the loud sound of Renji’s voice threatening him and quickly raised his hands defensively, making a long noise of both annoyance and acknowledgement.

Lowering his head but still keeping his hands up, Ichigo turned around and began making his way into the backstage. The staff member bowed at him with a smile and marked his ticket, then motioned for him to follow, which he did. The five minute walk was in silence, only the background chaos accompanying them, and the orange haired man fidgeted the entire time. Every step made his heart beat faster and louder, clogging his ears. The world was overwhelming him, and he almost didn’t react in time when the staff member stopped in front of a room.

“We’re waiting for the other VIP to finish the interview, it shouldn’t take long.” The shorter man informed, gentle expression never wavering. “May I check your ticket one last time?”

“Sure.”

A beat of silence. A nod, and his ticket was returned.

“Alright, Nnoitra and Luppi are in the interview right now, your ticket is for a meet-and-greet with Shiro and Grimmjow. Please wait a moment so we can arrange everything.”

Ichigo gulped, but gave a firm nod in response. The staff member entered the room and, once he closed the door, the poor man outside took out his phone and began frantically checking how he looked. Was it obvious he had been crying? It didn’t seem like it, but his camera could be lying. His hair wasn’t too messy, was it? The shirt, his pants, everything, he had to make sure he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself and look like a disaster.

Considering he was going up against members of a band dedicated to the unholy trinity of drugs, sex and alcohol, how he looked should’ve been the last of his worries, but he couldn’t help it. He was anxious. Focusing on those things calmed him down. That, and the meds he took before the concert. Literal blessings.

“It’s all set, mister, please come in.” He hadn’t even noticed when the door was opened and the staff member peeked out. Ichigo yelped in surprise, then recomposed himself as fast as he could and slowly stepped in.

The place was comfy. Small, but nice. Two sofas had been placed opposite to each other, a table in the middle and three bottles from brands which Ichigo assumed were sponsors resting calmly on top of it. The door closed behind him, and since he wasn’t given any important instructions, he assumed it was safe to simply step forward and sit down on the sofa that had a single bottle in front of it.

Shiro and Grimmjow. Sounded like an odd duo, and Ichigo gently bit his lower lip thinking about how he was going to face Zangetsu with a stranger in the room. He highly doubted Zan would give his private life away and reveal his backstory so easily, so he couldn’t trust on this Grimmjow person knowing about their… affair. Would he be able to keep a straight face? He sighed, and braced himself for what was coming, more so when he heard the set of steps coming his way. He could swear he heard something that sounded like bickering a couple of seconds before the door was slightly opened.

Ichigo got a glimpse of blue hair, before the whole room trembled as the door was violently shut.

He blinked.

Ichigo held his breath for a minute, not quite understanding what was going on. The door opened again, enough for one to peek inside, then shut close again. He could hear mumbles outside, but couldn’t distinguish what they were saying. Intense bickering, but keeping their voices low. Cold sweat began running down his forehead, and he quickly took out his emergency tissue to clean it. He heard the door open a third time, and this time for sure, he caught it.

“Brown eyes alright, I’m telling you!”

Ah.

There was one solid yell behind the door, before it swung open and the one and only was shoved inside.

Ichigo froze. Shiro froze.

They stared at each other and neither of them dared to move a muscle for a full minute. The orange haired man was the first one to break the silence, albeit unintentionally, by clearing his throat and sinking into the seat. He heard Shiro swallow hard, and he brought a hand up to adjust his shirt, suddenly feeling too tight around his neck. Eye contact was broken and they both looked away in opposite directions, both of their minds going a hundred miles per hour and neither could utter a word as a result.

Ichigo breathed deeply, apparently loud enough he got Shiro’s attention. He gulped, feeling the twin golds boring into his soul, searching for any sign that would give him away. He shook his head weakly and slowly focused his eyes on him again.

“Uhm… hi.”

“You came.”

Great way to start a conversation.

“To… to the concert? Yeah. I guess I did, huh?”

“You really came. I didn’t think you would.”

“I’m full of surprises.” Ichigo’s tone made it sound more like a question than a statement.

However, a feeling of wrongness flickered inside him when he noticed Shiro taking a step back. He saw his hand moving behind him, and Ichigo didn’t need to see it twice to know he was frantically trying to reach the handle and sprint away.

Panic took over and he stood up in a rush, hand snapping forward to try and grab the white haired man before he was out of reach.

“Wait, don’t! Don’t leave!”

Yet the opposite happened. Before Ichigo could grab him, he felt Shiro’s full weight on him, arms wrapping around and clinging to him, one hand on his back, one hand on his hair. He clung back by sheer instinct, desperate as if he would disappear if he let go.

“I won’t, I’m not leaving. I promise. This time I promise.”

“You said the same back then…” Ichigo tried to sound even if just a bit harsh, but what came out was a sob.

He felt Zangetsu squeeze him harder.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

Another sob, and he buried his head into Shiro’s white hair. Any fear of staining his shoulder in tears and looking like an idiot left him when the hand holding his head pressed, an invitation to bury deeper.

“I’m sorry, King.”

“I’m sorry too.”

A hug and an apology. That was all it took. Almost ten years of painful longing and regret felt like nothing just with that. They didn’t need to say or do anything to know they both wanted to keep it going. To make up for all the lost time, to let out all the unspoken feelings. Even after they let go, Shiro’s hand searched for Ichigo’s and grabbed it, wanting reassurance. The orange haired man chuckled at this.

“I’m not going to disappear, you know?”

“Still.” Shiro almost spat the word, then looked away. Ichigo wanted to laugh and mock him for being like a tsundere, but decided to keep that to himself for now.

“Hey, uhm, do you want to sit down?”

“Ah… sure. Right.”

Naturally, they sat on the larger sofa, still holding hands, then fell in silence again. They knew someone had to break the ice, but neither of them dared take the first step. In the end, after enough fidgeting and gulping, Ichigo was the one to go for it again.

“So… have you been well?”

Shiro blinked at him, then nodded.

“Kinda, yeah. Band is doing good, we might go on a bigger tour in a couple of months, and… yeah. I’ve been alright, I guess.”

“You still stink of alcohol…”

Ichigo sounded sad and disappointed, and Zangetsu looked away.

“Coping is hard.”

“Is that all you’re going to say about it?”

“King, come on, I just…” He sighed. “I haven’t been able to vent any of my feelings out, at least not until I wrote that song, and…”

“Heat waves?”

He nodded slowly.

“Did… did you like it?”

Ichigo gently bit the inside of his cheek as he thought of an answer, eyes focusing on the ceiling for a minute before coming back to the pale man.

“It’s definitely different from your usual style, it feels experimental and a little weird, to be honest, but-”

“You’re not answering me.” Zangetsu insisted, suddenly leaning closer to Ichigo, squeezing his hand tighter. “Did you like it?”

“There’s something I need to know before I can answer that.” He breathed deeply and his frown seemed to harden, perhaps because he was mentally preparing for the worst case scenario.

“What?”

“Who’s that song for?”

Shiro seemed taken back, and Ichigo couldn’t tell if it was because he had been too straightforward, or because Shiro wasn’t expecting it, or perhaps because he had assumed Ichigo would know the answer. Still, he needed to hear it from him.

And Zangetsu found nothing better than to lean forwards and put his face less than an inch away from Ichigo’s, to the orange haired man’s dismay and intense blush suddenly blooming on his cheeks.

“It’s meant to you, who never left my heart.”

The kiss was so fast, so subtle, it almost didn’t register.

Zangetsu backed off from Ichigo and hid his face in his hand as quickly as he physically could, but it wasn’t fast enough for Ichigo to miss the blush creeping on him. If he hadn’t been as stunned, he would’ve made fun of his unexpected shyness, or at least chuckle at the gesture, but no. All Ichigo could do was stare, mouth half open, eyes wide, face as red as it could be.

This time, Shiro was the one to speak up, though his voice came out as a nervous squeak from behind his hand.

“That was uncalled for, wasn’t it… fuck…”

Ichigo squeezed Shiro’s hand, enough to get his attention and make him raise his head.

“You already know I’ve been waiting for that for a decade.”

“Oh…”

“Zangetsu, please tell me… does this mean you want to start over?”

“I always did.”

Ichigo was expecting him to take a minute to think it over, but the answer came so fast he didn’t know what to reply right away. There was no hesitation, no “what about the band”, “what about my dream”, “I moved on”, no “what about your life”, “you can’t be serious”, “it’s not going to work”. The yes was immediate. Determined. As if Shiro was willing to throw away everything he had up to that point if it meant starting over with Ichigo.

And after all of that, Ichigo finally couldn’t hold it in and laughed. In front of a shocked, confused Shiro, he brought a hand to cover his eyes and laughed more openly and honestly than he had in years. It was a laugh that held so many emotions at once, as if he had repressed it for all that time. It was so intense and unexpected, Shiro couldn’t help but follow. A relief for both of them, a way to release all the pent up frustration, the hurt, the longing, everything.

It was a laugh of true happiness, something that was ripped away from them too long ago. When they gave up on the dream to spend a lifetime together.

Maybe now, there was a chance. Even if small, there was a chance. And that was more than enough.