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Happy Ending	By : Ardespuffy Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Hitsugaya/Ichigo Views: 2079 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Happy Ending
- 2-Teaser
- 3-One
- 4-Two
- 5-Three
- 6-Four
- 7-Five
- 8-Six
- 9-Seven
- 10-Eight
- 11-Nine
- 12-First
- 13-Second
- 14-Third
- 15-Fourth
- 16-Fifth
- 17-Sixth
- 18-Seventh
- 19-Eighth
- 20-Ninth
- 21-Tenth
- 22-Eleventh
- 23-Twelfth
- 14
- 15
- 16
.

Day 1
Light. Ominously blinding light seeping through the window, making his eyelids hurt with the effort to stay screwed shut and shelter sensitive turquoise orbs from the merciless aggression.
"Hey, you awake?"
Toshiro turns his head slowly. Damn, it feels so heavy, and his temples are throbbing – a drum rhythm squeezing his brains tight in a the hold of a dull, pressing ache.
"Don't fret now, or they'll have to put you out again."
Put me…? Frowning in confusion, Toshiro discovers soon enough, does no good for his raging migraine.
Ichigo, whose voice is gradually lulling him back into the world of the living, seems to notice and catch on his status immediately. "The nurse mentioned you were likely to wake up in a painkillers-induced haze, so just stay put and rest, okay?"
That option holds no appealing whatsoever to him, as Toshiro expresses in an eloquent grunt. Heck, if he rests a bit more he'll lose his limbs for lack of activity. Stupid bed and stupid doctors. Stupid goddamn plaster, most of all.
As if reading his very mind, Ichigo snorts a quiet laughter. "Get that pout off your face, that's just what you get for being a restless whiney baby." His tone takes on a tinge of amusement as the carrot-top goes on. "What were you thinking, trying to climb off the bed on your own with your arm and leg immobilized?"
Well, it does sound a bit lame when you put it this – Toshiro's scowl deepens. Like hell he's conceding the infuriating redhead a point. Why the hell is he here by the way? And how does he know of his little… incident? Quickly deciding against opening his eyes, the patient turns his head to the side Ichigo's presumably on. "It was hot and the damn nurse wouldn't come no matter how many times I rang the bell. What's a man supposed to do to have a little fresh air in this place?"
The bite in his tone has Ichigo chuckling with gusto. The aggravation! Now he's really, really missing having his right arm in perfect, punch-the-idiot-in-the-face conditions. "What's so funny? You're a doctor too, you're supposed to feel insulted." Frustrated at both the other's unresponsiveness and his own state of self-imposed sightlessness, Toshiro groans. "And for Lord's sake, pull down the bloody blinds. Whatever it is your colleagues gave me, it's making my head hurt like a bitch."
The creaking sound of a chair sliding on the tiled floor comes as unbelievably comforting despite the lack of finesse in Ichigo's abrupt standing. Well, can only ask so much of the guy, can you? Toshiro muses, prone to indulgence, while the redhead is heard walking toward the window to oblige him.
"What a foul mouth you got yourself in Europe, mate. To think you used to look down on Renji and I when we threw shit in each other's face 'cause your little ears were so sensitive you couldn't stand how bad-mouthed we were!" A sharp tug and, thank God, the obnoxious sunlight is dimmed. Toshiro cracks his eyes open cautiously, in time to see an Ichigo-shaped ghost walking back to his bedside, a foolish grin stretching his lips.
"Guess you've returned a lil'… worldlier, haven't ya?"
Something in the way those words leave the redhead's mouth causes an angry pink flush to creep over Toshiro's neck and face. Now, how come Ichigo's got the unique ability to make even the most casual of comments sound lewd and, and, and ambiguous? Pale cheeks grow scarlet as the med student props down on the chair again, goofy smile still in place.
"Ha, so I gotcha here, huh? You're blushing like a little girl. Say then, what kind of life-altering perversion was our Snow White met with abroad, when far from her brave-hearted prince?"
Much to his horror, Toshiro can feel the hot flush spread all over his scalp. Is he – what's he…? Flustered and utterly humiliated, the footballer clenches his fists into balls of tension under the sheets, subconsciously seeking for physical outlet since his emotional balance is threatening to fail him. "No prince. No perversion." He grumbles in the pillow, eyes darting nervously to escape the oh-so-very-amused scrutiny of hazel eyes. No such luck, for that matter. Oh, well. Guess resorting to good old names-calling can do no harm, right? "You're a git, Kurosaki." There you go, a handy statement for every occasion.
Too bad the effect of a punch line tends to wear off when you've been abusing it. Ichigo chortles happily, totally unaffected, and the small boy in the bed realizes he's got to stop him before he lets his idiocy run free and wild.
"I love it when you talk dirt – "
"What's with all the friendliness anyway? Did you think we were just going to pick up where we left off?"
Ouch. The moment the words leave his mouth Toshiro regrets them already, but there's little he can do now to wipe off the sudden graveness of Ichigo's face. Way to go, mister tact.
"I didn't. I'm just glad to see you're okay."
Here's when his chance to move things onto a less slippery ground presents itself. Making a great show of turning to rest flat on his back, low groans of discomfort and well-calculated hisses escaping his lips, Toshiro casts his friend a sideways glance and snorts. "Wouldn't exactly say I'm okay, would you, genius?"
Ichigo must read through his desperate attempt at lightening the mood, for he leans over his seat to pat his plastered knee, a sympathetic look on his face. "Don't worry about that, kid. All the nice doctors and nurses here will take good care of you, me being right with them."
Too annoyed at the epitome to mind the last bit, the snowy head wrinkles his nose in aggravation. "When do you reckon they're letting me out?"
The med student seems to consider the question for a moment, then shrugs. "Not until you can be trusted to walk around on crutches autonomously, that's for sure. It might take a few days, a week perhaps." An apologetic smile stretches his lips, before turning into what Toshiro can only describe as a devilishly wicked grin. "Cheer up though, I'll keep you company. Well, as often as visiting hours allow, that is." Ichigo's eyes shine dangerously as the man beams, urged by who knows what insane idea. "But I might try and get an extra pass for medicine students if you want?"
The utter fright he's experiencing is way too overwhelming for the patient to keep it out of his voice. "God forbid!" As if being stuck in bed without even the dignity to use the bathroom like all human beings wasn't enough of a pain…
Here's when a loud, appalling cry resounds in the hallway, right beyond the door… "Tai-iiiiichou!" … which springs open with unearthly strength as a blur of honey hair and bare breasts blocks out Toshiro's vision.
"Taichoooo-ooou! My, I ran as soon as I was able to!" Chirps none other than Rangiku Matsumoto, presumably to the slim boy she's most likely crushing to death with the brutal force of her embrace. "How are you? Oh, shush, don't get yourself worked up, you need rest! I'll see to it that you stay well tucked under the sheets and don't move a muscle, trust me, taichou! You get out now, Berry, the kid needs his sleep." The hyper woman waves dismissively.
Still buried in Matsumoto's extra generous chest, Toshiro can see with the corner of his eye as Ichigo raises his hands in surrender and stands to oblige the crazy girl. The carrot-top hesitates just before leaving, though – probably taking pity on him, Toshiro muses – and bends to ruffle silver hair while evidently fighting to hold back his laughter.
The words he whispers in the captain's ear as a goodbye make chills run down the patient's spine. "Bet ya miss me already, huh?"
Toshiro groans to himself as Momo's karma bullshit comes back to mind, and with perfect timing too. Just when he was thinking things couldn't possibly get any worse…
"None of that, Berry, you're agitating him! Get lost. Now taichou, sleepy eyes, how about a lovely lullaby to ease you into the gloomy realm of Morpheus…?"
Whatever the hell karma is, the footballer decides while watching helplessly as his former lover walks out of the room with a blatant sneer on his face, mine I must have pissed off big time.

Day 2
A loud, drawn out groan resounds as the first flash of bright orange hair comes into view.
"Why did you let her anywhere near me? When I wasn't able to defend myself, furthermost!"
Ichigo, broods Toshiro while the taller boy crosses the hospital room to take his seat on the bedside, doesn't take him half as seriously as he should. "Why, I thought she was your best friend!" The idiot grins derisively, still… still there's a pale flicker of truth in his words that makes Toshiro squirm uncomfortably under the sheets.
"So not my best friend." He mutters grumpily, not anticipating the redhead's prompt retort.
"Then who is it? Your best friend, I mean."
Geez. Feeling suddenly ridiculously small under Ichigo's light yet obtrusive stare, the soccer captain gulps and fidgets to get comfortable against the squashy pillows. Trust the jerk to make a major deal out of absolutely nothing. "Don't treat me like a bloody schoolgirl, Kurosaki. You think I need a bff to share my most intimate secrets with and pour my heart out to whenever I'm feeling overemotional?" A cynical 'tch' sound flows past Toshiro's lips as the degrading picture takes shape at the back of his mind. "Please."
The carrot-top puts on a pensive face, then shrugs. "It's not that bad to have someone to confide in, you know." Mischievous smirk back on, Ichigo leans over to mutter furtively in the other's face. "I, for one, would be very happy to hear more 'bout those intimate secrets of yours…"
Woosh. Such a fine way to deal with a pillows and assholes problem, Toshiro considers with impossible amount of satisfaction as one of the surplus cushions hits the obnoxious redhead square in the face.
A pitiful whine comes from Ichigo's general direction, but the silver-haired youth isn't feeling particularly compassionate at the moment. "Serves you right for prying. Why so cheerful again? You're like… grinning and giggling and have this silly smile on all the time."
Okay, so maybe he didn't want it to sound quite this harsh, but the thought behind the words is genuine. Nevertheless Toshiro bites his lower lips self-consciously as Ichigo, his middle straightened against the back of the chair for support, replies quietly and firmly. "I told you, I'm just enjoying having you back."
The shadow of a smile appears briefly on the handsome face, only to be replaced by a rueful grimace short after. "Though I imagine it must be a pain for you to be stuck in a frigging bed all day." Ichigo mumbles, surprisingly considerate after all. "That's why…", his eyes light up with something that makes Toshiro's insides churn not at all unpleasantly as he bends to collect a bag the footballer hadn't noticed before, "… I've brought you stuff to keep you entertained when no one's visiting!"
Toshiro's eyes grow wide while contemplating the items Ichigo produced. Mistaking his surprise for bewilderment, the redhead proceeds to enumerate the objects as he drops them in the patient's lap. "My i-pod with the music you like best on, your mobile to gimme a ring if you're getting lonely, these… very voluminous, very tedious looking books, and of course the sudoku mag to keep your brain from growin' lazy while you wait for your limbs to start working again." Taking in the pale boy's mute amazement with a bright smile, Ichigo all but wags his tail as he prompts for praising. "C'mon, I know you wanna say it. Am I your hero or what?"
Tch, Toshiro would beg to reply, but no words seem about to leave his mouth any moment. This… Ichigo's kindness he's grateful for, but what truly delights him is how thoughtful his friend proved himself to be by not bringing anything even remotely related to sports, especially soccer. Not that Toshiro can ever get his mind off the royal wreck that his career has become for more than five minutes a day, but it's plain to see the redhead made a serious effort to give him something else to think about, and such regard for his feelings is, is what he always valued Ichigo the most for.
Toshiro blinks away the little invisible tears welling at the corner of his eyes. He makes sure his tone is cool and collected when he speaks. "Sudoku ain't no fun if there's no one to challenge." A slight tilt of white hair outlined head, then quickly, as though the words burnt his tongue: "How about that extra pass you mentioned?"
The sight of Ichigo brightening up like a bloody light bulb, warm brown eyes growing fairly wide in surprise, is – Toshiro will give him that – utterly priceless. "I could still get it if you want me to."
A hopefully nonchalant shrug is enough answer to have the carrot-top grinning like a manic. Which is such a disgraceful and slightly eerie display to be honest that Toshiro would be tempted to crush the boy's foolish, foolish hopes just for the satisfaction of seeing his absurdly happy face fall, but somehow it's not even worth it, and all those white teeth and, ugh, that creepy twinkle in ridiculously expressive eyes and, and, oh, damn, doesn't matter, whatever.

Day 3
More than just a tad compromising and totally mortifying is what Toshiro would define the predicament Ichigo catches him in upon entering to be like.
Flushing scarlet, the patient pulls the covers over his scarcely clad (damn stupid hospital gowns) lower body and spits venomously: "Ever heard of knocking, Kurosaki? Friggin' good habit."
The redhead halts halfway to the bed, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. "The nurse left the door open. Are – ?" Ichigo's eyes widen a fraction and the words die in his throat. "You squirmed when I said the word. Nurse."
And, damn it all to hell, Toshiro can't help but writhe in reaction, an unconscious defence his body put up to save him the sheer humiliation of this moment. Too bad Sherlock Holmes here doesn't know when to drop mental abuse.
"You did it again! Your left eye twitches when I say…" Probably taking pity of his long known friend, the med student trails off and furrows his eyebrows. "What's up? Did the nurse do something?"
Oh, for Lord's sake. Ichigo in his hero mode is not a sight Toshiro's particularly willing to behold not now nor, well, ever for that matter. "Just her job." He grumbles, so softly the redhead has to cut the distance between them and take his usual place at the bedside to catch what he's saying. "It… is just that – " why do I have to do his? why can't he decide he doesn't give a damn and would rather talk about the weather? that I could do, that'd be nice and clean and normal and wouldn't make me sound like a thirteen year old virgin to boot " – I can't use the toilet on my own, and they won't let me crawl out of bed at all after the other day's accident, so there's, there's this… thing…"
"You mean the catheter." Bless Ichigo's medical knowledge. How he can stay so cool while saying that, Toshiro must assume comes with experience. "Is that it?" The carrot-top gives a tiny playful smile, so discreet the footballer barely notices. "The nurse had just been changing your catheter when I came in?"
Tch. What a redundant question. Like hell he's bothering with giving it an answer, either. … to be fair, it's not that the ginger-head needs him to anyway, given how Ichigo rests his chin on the edge of the bed, glancing up at him with sympathetic eyes. "Like you said, she was just doing her job, you know." The med student points out conversationally, his voice coming out low and growly due to the pressure of the mattress against his throat. "Although I wouldn't say I'm surprised you're being a brat about this." A feral grin splits the redhead's face, making it all too punchable. "You always were kind of the prude."
This now…! Seriously, Toshiro has to bite back a somewhat hysterical laughter. That Ichigo of all bloody people… they…! Sod it. He took it up the ass in a dirty alley and Ichigo's got the guts to scoff at his sense of decorum! The silver-haired prodigy barely suppresses the urge to dig his fingernails in that obnoxiously smiling face and draw blood, composing himself to snarl in response. "Not the fucking point, you nitwit. It's just, I don't…" All vehemence sort of deserts him as Toshiro finds himself struggling for the words to avoid sounding too, well, prudish. " 'tis because it was a woman." He mumbles at last, so quietly he's not sure whether Ichigo can hear him at all. "I'm not comfortable with… them touching me in…" That's it, he can't do it. Won't do it. Screw Ichigo and his bloody bad timing and freaking intrusive questions and that insufferable smile to boot.
"You don't like women."
The med student's statement would really be one to laugh at, were Toshiro not busy licking the wounds inflicted to his shattered pride. "Hn. What gave me away?" Sarcasm flows out of his eyes like running water.
And he feels it, then. The hitch in Ichigo's breath, the subtle yet very much real shift in atmosphere anticipating words that are bound to destroy the frail harmony they've somehow managed to pull together since Toshiro has been back.
"I'm seeing somebody. A… girl."
The footballer can read the underlying inference perfectly. Ichigo might as well have said it out loud. I'm not like that. Not like you. I'm sane. How's that for a brush-off?
But it doesn't matter.
Toshiro stares for a long minute, until he can't take it anymore and has to avert his eyes. Right. Make it sound like I'm the faggot here, sure, whatever.
His ears are buzzing so that he can just about hear Ichigo's tentative voice but not quite catch the very words. He's got the feeling he's not missing much anyway –
"… felt it was fair for you to know."
– not with the redhead looking this flustered and ashamed, like, like what he's said was anything other than normal and right, when there really is nothing, nothing he should feel sorry for. Toshiro draws a deep, most necessary breath. It doesn't matter, not for real. "Ichigo." He calls quietly, and the other man falls silent, obviously taken aback by the rare utilization of his first name. It feels like ages since they last were intimate enough to – Toshiro won't go there, he won't. Not anymore. "Drop the guilty puppy look, will you. I don't care." He turns his head on the pillow as a low snort escapes his nostrils. "Some boyfriend you must be, ditching your cupcake all the time to run at your crippled mate's bedside!"
Ichigo shoots him a dirty look. "You're not crippled." The redhead all but barks – and Toshiro can't help but consider it somewhat endearing, even though he's not exactly sure why. The med student carries on in a lighter voice. "And it's quite okay. She likes you." Ichigo's lips arch in a good-natured if timid smile. "Though nothing would save you a kick in the jaw for referring to her as my cupcake, had she been around."
Toshiro knows what he's supposed to say now. Something around the lines of: a tough one, huh? I should like to meet her. Except he won't. It's not like he can't, he just won't. When Ichigo lied to him – wait, that's not the right word – when Ichigo wasn't being honest about his feelings, it hurt. Like knowing you're unworthy hurts. Like it hurts to reach out and never, never touch. Toshiro is well aware this is different – Ichigo doesn't need his approval to move on with his life – but he took an oath to himself he wouldn't… wouldn't pull the man he'd cared for more than anyone else through the same chilling uncertainty he was forced to deal with. He won't lie. But most of all, he won't pretend.
Without really bothering to hide the banter in his words, Toshiro scoffs. "Well, what? Are you just gonna sit there and look stupid or shall I kick your ass already?" When Ichigo raises an eyebrow, obviously clueless, the athlete rolls his eyes and helpfully supplies: "Sudoku."
"Oh, right!" As realization sinks in, the redhead gives a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but makes admittedly a good work at faking mirth. Also, his voice is sufficiently steady as he reiterates. "Sudoku, sure."
So he doesn't get it yet, Toshiro muses. Though as much as it saddens him, it's no longer his place to try and teach Ichigo that particular lesson.
Or is it?

Day 4
The moment Ichigo walks in, time freezes.
"What's he doing here?"
Sojiro's "told you so" smirk has Toshiro exhaling deeply. Bugger, he had hoped to avoid this little rendezvous, given that – as Sojiro truthfully claimed – his high school friend and his former lover can't seem to share even the same room without hissing at each other like crabby cats, but, oh well, guess this bullshit had to end someday, and the sooner the better. "Just what you are, genius. He came to see me."
Ichigo's eyes drift from the boy in the bed to the brunette sitting right at his side, on the very same chair the redhead had been taking the past days. He might be just flattering himself, but Toshiro would bet he can tell with clinical precision exactly what's on the med student's mind as those chocolate brown eyes narrow in contempt. "How come he was let in at this time of the day? It's not visiting hours yet."
The he in question, disregarding the blatant lack of direct acknowledgment, cocks his head to the side and offers a small, polite smile. "You're right, Kurosaki-kun, it's not. I just happen to know half the medical crew in this ward, seeing as I often end up here myself. There's no such thing as accident immunity when one practices athletics, you know."
The timid attempt at friendliness Toshiro is prone to feel grateful for does nothing but aggravate the standing man. Ichigo clicks his tongue in a customary self-restraint action before letting his gaze wander to the soccer captain once again. Here's when – Toshiro gathers from the softening of those previously hunched features – the ginger realizes the change. "You got rid of the plaster."
Nodding in confirmation, Toshiro stretches his right arm experimentally, careful not to be demanding of the healing bones. "Yeah, just this morning. It's nice to be able to crack my knuckles again."
"That's a hideous habit, you know?" Sojiro cuts in, good-hearted reproach in his tone. "It's bad for your fingers, plus it gives me the creeps."
"You can always leave if you're not feeling comfortable."
A hiss escapes Toshiro's lips without him really noticing. Seriously, what the fuck is Ichigo's problem? "That goes for you too." The footballer lets out in a quiet breath, low enough to rise the suspicion he doesn't actually want to be heard, but loud enough for Ichigo to wince as though he was shot and Kusaka to take matters in his hands.
"Now, now, no need to jump at each other's throats like this. You obviously despise me, Kurosaki-san, but it's plain to see you're sincerely fond of Toshiro and came to look after him, so I shan't get in your way." However Sojiro makes no move to stand up, and his real intentions become clear soon after. "If you're not fine with sharing him, then maybe you should wait for your turn."
Both Ichigo's and Toshiro's eyes widen at this, albeit for very different reasons. "Hn. You're pretty arrogant for one who's just come out of nowhere and back into Toshiro's life after, what, six, seven years?" The redhead snarls eventually, stepping subconsciously closer to the bed – like a predator whose meal was in danger of being robbed, the injured youth grouchily considers. "You speak of him as if he was your property."
That does it. Sick and tired of this kettle and pot game, Toshiro lets out an exasperated huff. "Are you two done speaking as if I wasn't present?" He emphasizes by crossing his arms – one more little joy of being plaster-free.
Ichigo turns to look at him abruptly, as though he wasn't expecting the very person in question to interfere. "I am." The redhead grunts, then shoots Sojiro a murderous look and backs off, heading toward the door with a somewhat sulky scowl on his face. "I'll be waiting for you to be through in the lounge room. See ya later, mate."
It all happens too fast for Toshiro to even think of stopping the man from leaving. Not that he would if given the chance, mind you.
"Territorial much, huh?"
Roused from his contemplative state, the silver-haired prodigy casts the youth beside him an admonishing look. "You think you're very clever, don't you?"
Kusaka's playful smile only grows larger as the two former classmates come to a silent understanding. "I don't just think so, I am." The brunette winks, a motion that causes Toshiro to roll his eyes in mild amusement.
"You also think I don't know what you did just now?" The patient's tone is overall scolding, although not entirely devoid of goodwill. It's kind of hard to stay mad at your first true friend ever, after all, especially when their acting like utter jerks was meant to cause no harm.
"What I did?" Sojiro blinks in a shameless simulation of innocence. "Why, I must assume you're way ahead of me on this, Hitsugaya-taichou, for I have absolutely no clue what you're getting at." A telltale grin breaks out then, kind of blowing the oblivious cover away. "Which besides is no big surprise. You were not haunted by the whiz kid pigeonhole half your life for nothing!"
Toshiro can't refrain from snorting loudly. "Nice try, still flattery will get you nowhere."
Uncrossing his arms to take on fumbling with the edge of the sheets, the soccer captain bites his bottom lip to quell a weird anxiety suddenly welling in his chest. Even though there's no logical reason why he should feel nervous about discussing this with the closest thing to a lifelong friend he's ever had, Toshiro can't help but struggle gauchely with the words to say. "Why did you have to tease him like that?" He asks in a small voice, his eyes never quite leaving the rim of the bedspread. "Use that word... share… like…" His brow furrows in frustration as he concentrates on the images replaying at the back of his mind. "Like you deliberately wanted him to, to misunderstand."
There, now he's said it and, surprisingly enough, it turns out as the very thing he'd been trying to convey. Toshiro won't raise his head, not straight away, but he can tell Sojiro is right with him on his train of thought by the way his friend's hand lands on his shoulder, sympathetic.
"Don't look so down, babe, or I'll think you're disappointed at me."
"I'm not disappointed." Toshiro bites back on impulse, then pauses to review the other's words in his head. "Did you just call me babe?"
Scrupulously avoiding dignifying that with an answer, Sojiro forces the pale boy to lock eyes, an inquisitive look twinkling somewhere behind the genuine concern draped over his features. "What's the matter? If you're not mad at me, then it must be Kurosaki you're upset with." The sombre façade only lasts so much before the inner mischievous grin appears, followed straight after by an unmistakable glint of pure delight in vivid amethyst eyes. "Didn't he look like he had misunderstood enough?"
Toshiro can only groan, too worn out by the little mind game to drag it on any further. I knew I got it right. Sojiro is bloody unbelievable! "Why are you doing this?"
"This being…?"
"You know perfectly well." The patient glares at yet another display of mock innocence. "Testing him. What are you trying to demonstrate?"
Kusaka's teasing smirk morphs into a somewhat gentler smile as the boy withdraws to lean back against his seat, a pensive crease showing on his forehead. "I'm not sure myself." He admits reluctantly, eyes never breaking contact with their teal blue partners. "Maybe that he doesn't deserve you. But I sort of wish he did. Maybe I want to prove he might be worth the trouble after all."
Wha…? Toshiro starts, his heart skipping a beat or two. Why would, why is Sojiro talking like that? The words replay in his mind, over and over again. Wrong. There's something terribly wrong about them – Toshiro can't shake off a feeling of gut-clenching revulsion. That's not right. Sojiro isn't supposed to… Ichigo was not the…
Worth. That's what undid him.
The soccer captain doesn't even notice his fists closing around the sheets with unnecessary strength, nor the blanching of his knuckles mingling with the sheer white of the bedspread as he speaks, eyes glued to his lap for dear life. "You're not making sense. There's no trouble. I gave up on whatever stupid delusion I might have had about our being together ages ago. Sometimes you just get tired of waiting."
A quiet rustle of clothing disrupts him, right when he was starting to fear he might never be able to cut the fucking sappy stream of his heart. Relief battling self-consciousness and winning, Toshiro lifts his head at last to take in Sojiro's standing form. "You leaving?"
The brunette gives a curt nod before – tch, bloody typical – winking flirtatiously. "Wouldn't want Kurosaki to get tired of waiting! Get well, man."
Oh, c'mon! Using his own words against him, how low is that? Toshiro grunts unappreciatively as the other man walks out of the room.
"Oi, kid! All right there?"
I need a break, the small prodigy whines to himself as a flash of bright orange hair comes into view, Ichigo stepping over the threshold in large confident paces.
Honestly, his social life since he's been stuck in bed? Way too freaking intense for his taste.

Day 5
"Watch it."
"I am."
"No, apparently you're not!"
"What's wrong now?"
"I'm wobbling. And you are the cause of said wobbling."
"How's that?"
Toshiro's reply comes through gritted teeth. How is he supposed to explain that Ichigo's tentative groping of his ass is way more than a little distracting? "Just keep those stray hands to yourself, Kurosaki."
"But I wanna help!" The carrot-top takes a step backward as if to have a proper look at what he must be thinking of as his creation – god, help me out of this. A little self-satisfied smile flashes for an instant on that godawfully zealous face, quickly and sensibly replaced by a mortified half pout. "I told you before I want to make it up to you for my stupid behaviour of yesterday. Just let me."
Toshiro rolls his eyes. It's bad enough that he's forced to walk around on sodding crutches when his right arm is still less than fully able to support his weight, but to have Ichigo hell-bent on assisting when his presence is really half of the problem… The footballer sighs irritably. "You want to make amends, that's fine. This is not the right way to do it though."
The med student licks his lower lip absent-mindedly – but it's enough to give Toshiro very strange, very bad suggestions. "And the right way would be…?"
Suddenly the shorter boy feels immensely grateful for the crutches holding him up as his knees weaken dangerously.
Damn.
Flushed cheeks? Check. Butterflies-besieged belly? Check. Sweated palms? Check. Unbecoming surges of red hot fiery arousal running up and down your body, heading decidedly southward – ?
Toshiro makes a strained guttural noise (Ichigo casts him a baffled look in reply). Alright, welcome back, sexual tension! "I meant," he drawls the syllables, ashamed at the painful obviousness of his own Achilles' heel, "you could apologize."
Standing right in front of him with his hands on his hips and brows knitted together in apprehension, Ichigo looks like some experimental crossbreed of a fretting mother hen and a big-headed superhero. The whiz kid shakes off the grotesque image with a jerk of his head. "Is that all?" For the briefest moment, the carrot-top seems almost disappointed. Or is it just genuine regret coming to the surface? Whatever the case, Ichigo's words sound remorseful enough when he bores his eyes in Toshiro's and quietly atones. "I'm sorry. For, y'know. Being a thoughtless idiot."
Sure the jerk has his way with words. Slightly flustered, Toshiro finds himself shifting on the crutches and – most ridiculous of all things ridiculous – racking his brain to come up with an excuse of some kind, anything to let him share the burden of contrition. "Sojiro is like my oldest friend, you know." He blurts out lamely in the end.
Ichigo shakes his head to dismiss whatever poor attempt at an explanation the limping boy is trying to conjure. "I understand." He lays out a hand then, outstretching his arm as to, Toshiro figures, offer support. "Well? Shall we?"
"Forget it! Get your hands off me, Kurosaki!"
"Apprentice medic here? Come on, don't be a brat."
"What the hell did you call me?"
"That's it, that's right! You're doing it! Now, if you only wiped that crazy homicidal look off your face for a sec – "
"I'm trying to run you through!"
"More like, trip on me to death – hey! Watch that thing!"
"Enjoy the stabbing superpowers of your precious crutch, doctor."
"You can't take it out on me 'cause you're cross with your nurse since she had a peek at your bits!"
"Did you have to bring that up?"
"Do you have to maul me with an orthopaedic implement? At least gimme the other one for defence!"
"I'm standing on the other one, you dimwit."
"In this case, I'm just gonna…"
Toshiro isn't sure what he should feel more humiliated for, if the very nurse of his nightmares walking in on Ichigo and him having a crutch fight or tripping on his feet and fall flush against his former lover's unreasonably well-built chest right as said nurse opened her mouth to offer a cautious:
"Are you… having troubles here, sirs?"
Ichigo's half-nervous half-amused snicker resounds too close to Toshiro's ear for comfort. "Business as usual, I'd say. 's just that convalescing kids are hell to handle."
The soccer captain wonders whether his criminal record will still be clean by the time he gests fucking discharged.

Day 6
"Promise you'll be a good boy, taichou! Call you as soon as I – "
"Don't!, I mean, don't bother. There's no reason to concern yourself, really. I'm perfectly fine here."
"I bet! What with our favourite be – Berry! Oh, right on cue! I was just – "
"Leaving. Matsumoto was just leaving." Toshiro cuts in hastily, shooting the honey-haired woman a killer look in the process.
"You need to get back already?" Walking further into the room, Ichigo turns to address the girl in the doorway. "That sucks. You just arrived this week."
"Don't encourage her!" The athlete mutters gloomily, but no one pays him attention.
"Yeah, well, what do you do. I could only take so many days off to rush at this little ungrateful brat's bedside and – "
"How did you call me?"
" – make sure he wasn't gonna die on us. Alright, apparently he's in good hands here, skilled hands in fact!"
Toshiro holds his breath, a guilty surge of heat rising to his cheeks. Is the crazy blonde about to…? If she does, I will kill her. Slowly. Painfully.
"So I'll just leave you two to it. Your crutches practice, I mean! Heard you've been making progress, ne taichou?" Matsumoto flashes a happy grin in his direction, and instantly the footballer knows the woman got him perfectly. His blush somewhat deepens. Damn, doesn't it suck to be read through like an open book. "Goodbye, Berry-kun! Next time I'm 'round you're so treating me to a drink at that hole of yours!"
"My pleasure."
Tch, bloody bootlicker. Toshiro rolls his eyes in annoyance as the fair-haired woman waves goodbye one last time and walks out, 'leaving the two of them to it'. Gods, women are so –
The pale boy wavers mid-thought while watching Ichigo stroll lazily toward the window, unruffled features composing in a calm yet pensive expression. Handsome, instantly comes to mind. Everything about the redhead is too raw to be defined beautiful, and pretty can't even begin to cover it. Attractive is more like it, while disgracefully hot, though fitting, are hardly the words one would use to describe a friend. A male friend at that. Toshiro's eyes slide shut for a moment. Man, am I screwed.
"It's… weird, isn't it?"
Ichigo sounds so deep in thought his voice feels impossibly far away. Here's when Toshiro realizes they've never been at this big a distance ever since the footballer has been hospitalized. The empty place at his bedside suddenly stands out like a dark shadows in the sunlight. "What is?" The words come out hoarser than intended.
Turning his back on the window to face the man in bed, Ichigo smiles somewhat weakly, arms crossing over his chest as to keep a fair amount of distance between them – or so Toshiro, in his growingly paranoid state of distress, sees it. "Just how much things have changed these past few years. Feels like forever that you were all living at the flat together."
Teal eyes drift back again to the vacant seat near the bed. Toshiro is not sure what the other expects him to say, so he keeps silent.
Ichigo shifts against the windowsill pressing in the small of his back before carrying on. "Now Matsumoto moved away, Izuru spends half his time tailing that fox-eyed weirdo, Renji and I left the campus and you…" He trails off and pauses, maybe waiting for the footballer to cut in. Toshiro doesn't though, so the carrot-top ends with a shrug. "… you're bound to travel all around the world chasing your dreams of glory, leaving us behind with that slick, creepy lad who took your place. No offence." The ginger adds in a peak of unconcealed hypocrisy, a mock sweet smile grazing his lips.
"Sojiro is not slick. Nor creepy." Toshiro answers mechanically, more out of rooted instinct than authentic feelings. He's too distracted himself by the issue arisen to be bothered with actually scolding the redhead. "What's there in 'kicked out of my team and currently in bed with a fractured leg' that you don't quite grasp, anyway? I'm not going to do much work travelling in the future, if recent events are any indication."
A quiet snort startles him. The soccer captain lifts an eyebrow in question, a move Ichigo replies to by huffing loudly. "Please. Don't offend my intelligence nor yours. You're damn brilliant, and the whole world is going to acknowledge it as soon as you get out of here and quit being a soppy bastard."
Toshiro flinches, ill at ease with the blunt compliment. Still… still there's something off in the redhead's voice, like a bitterness that he can't put his finger on. The silver-haired boy frowns. Could it be…? "You don't sound too fond of the idea though." He utters softly, half hoping for his words to go lost on the other.
"What idea? That of you moving overseas to get awfully loaded and never coming back to see your hopeless friends ever again?" Ichigo's lips arch in a somewhat vicious smirk. "Sure, what do I care."
The words sting in a way that's just plain ridiculous considering how the ginger is obviously joking. Toshiro tries, he really tries not to have them affecting him much, but he can't help wincing ever so slightly as Ichigo bends to lean onto the windowsill, turning his back on him.
It's somewhat easier to collect his thoughts and come up with the right words to say though, the footballer discovers, if those light chocolate eyes are not fixed upon him; staring down at his hands, entwined politely in his lap, Toshiro follows his own personal train of thought and blurts out all of a sudden, well aware of how random his question is going to sound to the oblivious redhead. "Don't you ever wish things could revert to the way they were before?"
Beat. Then, callously: "What's the point?"
He won't be deterred by the other's cold shoulder, he won't. "None. Just, if you had the chance, wouldn't you… do something differently? You can't be perfectly content with everything you did."
It's sudden, and it's sharp. Ichigo's fists curl into tight balls as the boy spins abruptly, eyes narrowing with such hostility Toshiro feels his heart clench in something akin to sheer panic. "Don't beat around the bush." The med student all but snarls, his voice too low – enraged, much more like a growl than a whisper – to sound imposing though. "Are you asking whether I regret falling for you?"
Something… stops. Even dies, maybe.
Right then and there.
Ages elapse before Toshiro can bring himself to swallow the lump in his throat – it's not pain, it's not, but he has yet to figure another way to call the deadly weight hindering his breathing – and shake his head, downcast. What I'm asking. I think what I'm asking is… "Can we just be friends again?"
It feels like those very words lifted the veil of abhorrent silence in the room, breaking down whatever invisible barrier was keeping the two of them apart. Ichigo must feel it too, for he effectively cuts the distance and approaches the patient's bed in unsteady paces. "Are you serious?"
There's something purely endearing in the tiny shaking of his mate's voice – the same voice Toshiro has heard in so many different circumstances, pissed and harsh and sad and grumpy and slurred, both strained and slightly high-pitched with pleasure even – but never like this, with such a vulnerable edge to it. Never so honest.
Never so true.
Toshiro only nods, not quite trusting his ability to form words at the moment. Ichigo smiles in response, then – the footballer's breath gets caught in his throat – falls to his knees and stretches a hand across the mattress to cover Toshiro's relaxed one. The redhead's palm grazes against pale, bony knuckles. "I thought you'd never ask." He quietly utters, without taking his eyes off the mesmerizing display that is their hands ghosting one over the other, equally responsive now, equally tender. Until the need for reassurance, the urge to seal a deal much bigger than them becomes stronger, leading Ichigo to tighten his hold on the twin fist, fingers entwining as if out of habit – although that was never their habit, not even back when…
The carrot-top's barely audible murmur shakes Toshiro from his melancholic reverie. "Thank you. I'll try not to screw it up this time."
Tch. A tiny smile crawls his way to the prodigy's lips in spite of everything. Toshiro doesn't stop it. "You do that."
Hands interlace against the white of the sheets, and the vacant seat by the bed looks vacant no longer.

Day 7
Breathe. For the love of all thing holy, breathe.
It's no use. No bloody use.
"Are you… positive this is a good idea, Berry-kun?"
Yeah, Toshiro would beg to second that.
Standing right next to the bed, closer to him than all others, Ichigo crosses his arms, a petulant huff slipping past his lips. "That's the most reasonable option and you know it, Momo. Besides, as long as Toshiro's fine with it, this is really none of your business."
A loud whack sound announces Rukia's slapping the ginger to the back of his head. And in reason, too. "Watch that toxic tongue, you rotten berry. How about we let Toshiro decide what's best for him before you go all smug asshole on us?"
Ichigo shoots the slim girl a dirty look while rubbing the now sore spot, but says nothing.
"You know, Rukia does have a point here, mate." Renji cuts in somewhat cautiously, eyeing his former roommate warily (Toshiro's got the feeling something happened between those two, but seeing as he's not sure he really wants to know, he's not going to ask). "I mean, how are you… y'know, making it work, since – and, and besides you've got your job at the pub, and the college and – "
The med student's demolition of the pineapple head's objection is systematic. "Nonsense. Goat Face can replace me at the pub when he's not busy at the clinic, Yuzu and Karin can do that the rest of the time. Toshiro needs space to move around on crutches, and my house is ridiculously huge. We won't be a burden to each other there. I can't think of a single con, unless, yeah…" Hazel eyes shift nervously to lock with ocean green ones. The boy in the bed stiffens. "You okay with this, kid?"
Such a good question. Well, apart from the kid thing. He will have to tell Ichigo off for that later. Later on. When they'll be alone at the Kurosaki's mansion. Just the two of them. Stuck. For three weeks, possibly more. So said the doctor. Just the two of them. And of course that's okay because they're friends. And this is what friends do – they help each other in times of need. And he currently is. In need. Wait, this sounded dirty. In need of a place to stay since the doctors discharged him today and he can't possibly go back to the apartment, where there's no longer room for him. And it's going to be just fine. Because they're friends. And that's what friends are for.
Goddamnit, this is not working. To think it was him who wanted to, to… reopen the whole friends topic…!
A seraphic smile has been tugging at the corners of Sojiro's lips for a while now, though the boy has admittedly done a good job at acting oblivious. Tch, just not good enough. It makes Toshiro want to bitch-slap him first and then shake him by the shoulders begging for help. He's positive the sly athlete would find a way out of this, but he can't let his own mask of perfectly-studied composure crack now, not here, in front of everyone, in front of Ichigo.
Toshiro draws a deep breath and, damn, can almost feel Sojiro's grin widening as he speaks. "Why would I have problems with it? If you're willing to be my host until I recover, then I'm going to take you up on the offer. It's not like I have many other options anyway."
Ichigo's eyebrow shoots up in mock outrage at that. "Why, thank you a lot."
Gods, whatever horrendous crime he must have committed in some previous life to deserve this, one would think it was under the bridge by now. But no. Apparently being surrounded by infuriating sons of a bitch is his cross to bear for all eternity. Scoffing in both self-pity and a peak of ill temper, Toshiro bites back harshly. "You know I didn't mean it like that, Kurosaki. Don't you start pissing me off even before this sharing a house thing begins." Then, pulling the sheets off of his lower half to make his point, the prodigy adds in a tone of finality. "Now, all of you, out. I need to use the toilet and you're not staying here while I do."
Surprisingly enough it's Renji of all people who stalls, shuffling his feet, seeming torn between hiding in a safe and voicing whatever lame excuse for a thought is currently crossing his mind. Of course, no matter how badly Toshiro wishes mentally for the redhead to leave it be (in fact there is a fair chance Renji is actually doing this on purpose to aggravate him all the more), the policeman spills eventually. "Ya sure you dun wanna a hand with that? Berry told us you had a hard time – "
Nnnnnggggh, this now. Glaring daggers at the ominous carrot-top, although the effect is kind of ruined by the crimson flush on his cheeks, the footballer barks, and yeah, this will be his last word: "Get lost!"
Amazingly compliant after all, the four mates stroll toward the door, Reni muttering something about ungrateful crabby midgets and verbally assaulting a cop under his breath (Toshiro makes a mental note to rip the guy a new one as soon as his kick leg starts working again).
Sojiro is last to exit. He hasn't spoken once since Ichigo voiced his proposal, but the gleeful sparkle in violet eyes tells Toshiro all he needs to know and more.
You're so screwed! chant bright amethysts, pretty loudly at that.
"I know. Get the hell out." Toshiro grunts in reply, and Kusaka knows better than to play dumb for once.
Hard times ahead. Hold on, not hard. Not hard. So un-hard. Just, tough. Tough times ahead. Yeah, that's much better. Better and sexless. Friendly. 'Cause this is how it's going to be. Friendship rocks. Hell yeah!
Man, Toshiro sighs falling back against the pillows, isn't he thoroughly screwed.

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Happy Ending