DESTRUCTION

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” There was a tie where Uryu would have been outraged at what Ichigo had done– where there would have been an emotional beside this passive indifference. He cannot quite bring himself to understand what had happened to that person, nor can he quite understand what is actually in front of him right now.

Ichigo was sensitive in his own way, but he could be terribly insensitive at times when it came to other people. It wasn’t a malicious thing, rather it was the kind born from a genuine lack of knowing what to say. Inoue would be better at this, but it wasn’t her who’d fucked up. Nor could he afford to hide people.

The question cuts through him and he tries to pretend it doesn’t. He lowers the plate in his hand, setting it aside so he can run a hand through his bangs. ‘ A lot, thanks for being so kind about it. ‘ For once his tone changes, just enough to snap at Ichigo. ‘ What do you want me to do? I really don’t have the energy to be pissed off at you, and I’m not anyway. I told you, I have more on my mind than just you. If you want someone to be pissed off so you can feel better, you’re going to have to go somewhere else. ‘ 

Ichigo can’t really comprehend what it is Uryu has lost– what the war cost him. Oh he’s Quincy, but that is new to him and he has not had to live with the judgement, hate, ignorance, and far worse that Uryu had. Ichigo cannot understand, for all he supposes it might be a fundamental part of him. It would be arrogant to assume otherwise, and so all he does is give a frustrated sigh.

He knows he fucked up for all his friend doesn’t seem bothered, and the fact he doesn’t just goes to piss Ichigo off more. Not specifically at Uryu (what right does he have?) but at himself. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, perhaps wanting Uryu to shout and call him a bastard. Certainly he deserved it.

“That’s not the point,” he complains, pointed as he drags fingers through wild hair in annoyance. “Friends don’t doubt each other, they support each other no matter what.” Which was the point; Ichigo had been an absolutely shit friend and too coward to admit it. He’d thought space might have helped, but he’s not so sure now. 

‘ That’s a stupid thing to say, Ichigo. I would hope you don’t actually feel that way. ‘ He only spares passing glances at the other boy, focused more on picking at his food. ‘ You had every reason to doubt me. The whole point was to behave as though I had betrayed you. Had that been the case, of course you should have doubted me. Blind faith is a dangerous thing. ‘ In contrast to the growing irritation his friend shows, Uryu is almost frustratingly calm, bordering on disinterested. 

“I dunno.” Shoulders lift in a loose shrug, taking to mooching through draws looking for something to eat with apparently uncaring about the possible privacy issues it may cause. “I didn’t ask them.” No doubt if he had they’d have made time for him, but it wasn’t them he needed to actually talk to. 

He’d take a plate whenever it was sorted, sitting himself on the kitchen workspace rather than finding a chair like a normal person. Prodding at the food and allowing silence for a time. He really wasn’t good at this feeling crap, too many years spent not trying. Here though an effort must be made.

That doesn’t press him to doing it sooner, stuffing his face for a few minutes in a silence that’s probably pushing on awkward. “Look, I’m crap at apologising and stuff so I mess it up then I guess I warned you.” Eyes avert. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you.”

He doesn’t know why he bothered to ask -- he knew what Sado was doing, at least. Of his three friends he had been the only one to keep close tabs, to ask how he’s been, to visit sooner than a month after the war. And he wonders suddenly if he’s bitter towards Ichigo about that. The thoughts consume the tired mind that spawns them too easily. Until spoken words break through.

There is the sense that Ichigo had fucked up somewhere along the lines, that his belief that one of the people closest to his heart could have done what he assumed Ishida had had been grievous. It left a strange taste in his mouth, but Ichigo had spent his entire life dwelling on the past and he hoped this time there could be a better future. Something to look forward to.

“Oi!” Gruff as he accosts his friend at his own home from whatever he’s doing, holding a bag of takeout up in a peace offering to the other boy. “I ordered too much. You might as well join me.” Words come as if it were an accident, but really it had been so blatantly deliberate. Had it been a mistake than perhaps showing up at Uryu’s home with them would have been something of an odd choice.

Assuming he doesn’t get kicked out the minute the other sees him he’d hand the bag over, not really knowing where the fuck anything is to plate the noodles up. For all he feels immeasurable guilt he folds his arms, leaning back against whatever working space might be in the kitchen as if casual. Casual is not how he feels, but he is working terribly hard not to allow a sour expression to his face. It is only mostly working.

@seraphshot

He can’t find it in himself to be surprised that Ichigo finally showed up at his house. It’s been - what? weeks? a month? his own perceptions of time have been completely thrown off and frankly he wouldn’t be shocked if it’d been even longer than that since they spoke more than in passing. Even the excuse, the Quincy doesn’t believe it but doesn’t bother to try and expose the lie for what it is. They both know they’re all too poor to be ordering food so recklessly. 

‘ Fine, I suppose. I haven’t had anything to eat yet. ‘ He doesn’t meet Ichigo’s eye even while moving into the kitchen next to him, pulling out drinks. Admittedly his own fridge looks bare bones and part of him is grateful that this is the excuse the other teen used to get into his home.

safe & sound || @rezadora

               ‘ HEY –! ‘ 

those oddly colored hues glance down at the paper on the other’s desk. it’s written in a different language—one neither shirosaki or ichigo understood. it’s then that he has to wonder why ishida chose, just then, to write in an entirely different language—right in front of his face!

something dark twists along his face, then, plain and open. the hollow decides right then to show this freaking quincy exactly what he was digging into. black begins slowly, slowly seeping into the white sclera around brown hues…

yet his visage remains utterly impassive save for the truly vicious, unstable grin stretched wide across ichigo’s face as it gradually began losing color right before ishida’s eyes.

            ❛   i already told you i’m fine. damn.             ❛   are you nesting or somethin’?             ❛   when’s the baby due?             ❛   should i get you and chad a baby shower gift??

he’s only partially joking.

             It becomes clear, suddenly; a look that makes his blood freeze beneath pale skin. A look he’s seen before, usually hidden behind a hollow mask that now stood bare in front of him. And he thinks idly that the hollow must truly be impatient if he couldn’t make it an entire day putting on a rouse of being Ichigo in front of one of his friends. But that’s really the least of his concerns. Just meeting his eye makes his stomach churn, like being stabbed is muscle memory by now. 

    ‘ ...I see, then. ‘

He tries to wipe the shock from his own expression and goes back to jotting thoughts down. How long had Ichigo been gone? It would be safe to assume that as long as his friend had been ignoring him would be around when it started, but has it been longer? An internal struggle he kept to himself out of some obnoxious sense of isolated heroism that made him deal with this by himself?

“ YOU GOT MACHINES FOR THAT ?! ”