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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
- 17
- 18
- 19
.

If someone, anyone turned up to him and asked how things are going, Ichigo would not be sure of the most sincere comeback to offer. All in all, he muses, eyes fixed on the blazing tongues of dancing fire and rivulets of smoke swirling up to the heavens in the dead of night, nothing catastrophic has happened so far.
Notwithstanding…
"Never have I been bullied by the marching band at summer camp!"
The veiled accusation is met with a roar of catcalls and a strained: "Dammit, Momo! You just had to spill it, didn't you?"
Taking in the general hilarity, Ichigo lets the corners of his lips quirk in a soft smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, still drawn to the flickering of the bonfire. Upon sensing a barely-there pressure on his forearm, the redhead rouses from his fantasy and gives Rukia a more convinced smirk. Too bad the raven-haired girl doesn't look convinced in the slightest.
Stuff it. Ichigo can't help the lively derailing of his thoughts.
The morning prior, on this very shore, something…
Toshiro had just gotten out of the water, salty droplets tracing unreadable paths on his now faintly tanning skin, swimming trunks drenched and dripping. The contrast between cool water and sunbathed beach had him shivering like a helpless… well, kid, Ichigo considers with a pale hint of a grin stirring his lips. It was that moment, that picture who triggered the redhead's – what? protectiveness? affection? basic need to reach out and pet and stroke and just touch? – whatever. All he knows is he just couldn't avoid stepping up to Toshiro standing on the foreshore and offer the boy a towel to wrap himself up in.
And so far so good. Thing is…
The memory causes Ichigo to sink his teeth in his bottom lip.
A sidelong, crooked smile had been Toshiro's thanksgiving as the med student laid the towel on the prodigy's shoulders. That smile… his hair, the way silver brands had stuck to his temples, and aquamarine eyes shone in the sunlight under wet, curvy lashes… all that had reminded Ichigo of something. Of the days back when they – back when it was normal for them to…
And then he just couldn't let go. Ichigo had draped the towel around the footballer's slim form and let his arms rest there, stroking the sparkling damp skin through the way too rough, undeserving fabric. Drying Toshiro from the head down, rubbing his arms affectionately, swinging on his heels to bring his own bare chest in touch with the other's backside, the thick layer of cloth the only thing separating them – all that, all that had sent shivers down Ichigo's spine and fuelled him to push his luck, follow his instinct.
"Never have I fucked my best pal into the mattress!" Renji's cheerful dare reaches the ginger's ears.
Oh.
A long beat. He hesitates. Hazel eyes seek impulsively teal blue ones, only to find them open wide and totally unshielded. They exchange a brief agreeing glance across the flames, Toshiro's cheeks flushing scarlet in the orange light.
That same blush had crept over the whiz kid's features the previous day once Ichigo had finally withdrawn, suddenly self-conscious, a murmured "sorry" leaving his lips as he stepped back. No matter how just, how natural it had felt to him – Ichigo had sensed Toshiro stiffen in obvious discomfort as they embraced, and realized he'd long lost the right to show the boy how much he cared. Why would he still care though was a whole issue of its own.
"Ow, damn you stupid pineapple! That was ages ago!"
Huh? Ichigo's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Grinning, Renji casts his former roommate a knowing glance, which morphs into a wink as the policeman turns to Toshiro. "Consider yourselves avenged!"
Meanwhile Momo and Izuru, both stepping forth inside the circle with guilty looks on their faces, struggle to make up excuses. "We were, what, fifteen at the time?"
"And that was confidential, Abarai, you git."
"Besides, we didn't even go all the way! I mean – "
"You mean Izuru wasn't up for the job, huh?" Renji leers none too subtly.
"Well, actually…"
"Momo! I forbid you to go there!"
"Wha? Oh no, now you have to spit it! Even pretty boy here is holding his breath!"
"That's right! I never heard the details of this myself!"
"Not you too, Rukia! This is just mean."
"Ya only reap what you sow, girl."
…
Through the flames they lock eyes again. Ichigo gives a sheepish, unsure smile Toshiro replies to in kind.

Only two days of vacation to go when it happens.
It's all in slow motion at first, the girls running off secretively to mind their business, Renji stalking them in a pitiful cap-and-sunglasses attire, Izuru and the jerk vanishing to go do the shopping – there, Ichigo realizes, they are alone. Utterly, undeniably alone, like in, just the two of them, for the very first time since Toshiro left his place (which, for the record, happened the moment some damn corrupted doctor declared he was fit to get back to living on his own in that small crammed apartment with the jerk – alright, Ichigo hasn't quite accepted it yet, so what? It's just normal to be feeling a little lonely since one of his closest friends practically dashed as far from him as physically possible at the first given chance, right?).
The tent feels impossibly small as Toshiro, knees bent to his chest, starts off in a cool, if wavering, voice. "You lied."
"What about?"
"The game. Yesterday, on the beach. You didn't… step forth."
Okay, so apparently they are discussing that. Ichigo had not seen it coming, but all in all he should be able to live with it. Right? "Nor did you. B'sides, that was no lie. You said yourself I'm not your best pal. That you don't need a bff at all in fact, and if anything, that would be Kusaka. So, unless you're keeping something from me…"
He trails off – no point in finishing a thought which just gives him the creeps anyway. There is no misunderstanding Toshiro's reaction either, as the prodigy lowers his head to stare intently at his close drawn knees. "Right. This was a bit lame of me, wasn't it."
The tone is dead quiet, no intonation whatsoever. Ichigo feels like the words next leaving his own mouth are gaining in weight, stretching the air between them and lengthening as they are freed, bearing their thick foggy quality to do away with all lingering gentleness, and peace, and pretence. "Would you have wanted me to step forth?"
Toshiro shrugs, but it doesn't work. It's too loud. Flap. Flap. Can't work. Too heavy. "It doesn't really matter."
"But would you?"
They are getting closer as they speak, though there's no saying how it's happened or who started it, if either started it at all. Teal orbs are quivering with lights so feeble the eye can hardly catch, but the soul feels clearly, and dreads. "Your timing really is something…"
" 'Cause I feel like stepping forth right now if you're with me."
Shivers. The tent is small, so small, so warm. The ground feels solid and comfortable and calm. There is no bonfire now, but the flames are still there, all across Toshiro's face, glowing orange and shadowing the want there. The paralyzing fear. "What are you saying?"
What's he saying. The hell he knows. Ichigo breathes on the whiz kid's lips, and there really is no better place to be alive on earth. Still, cautiousness has it he at least attempts to restrain, resist the perfect combination of time and space and the underlying pattern in the air, the sinuous hissing of the world around them that's only urging him to go, go, go take it 'cause it's not coming around quite this good ever again. "I'm not gonna try if you're not game, just – "
"Let's set something straight." Toshiro shifts, the whip in his voice flares. "This is no game, Ichigo."
Fuck, he's breathless. They both are. "I know. Didn't mean it like this."
"Then how did you mean it?" There's a raspy edge to the prodigy's tone now, like a clawed paw carving its feral print on his breathing.
But it's late. It's over.
They both have known it for ages when it happens.
It's Ichigo who leans forward first, but it's just as well; Toshiro meets him eagerly, further than halfway. Their lips make a way they've memorized through years of practicing an attraction that used to be freer than this, never quite this cautious. The difference is all in the way they gasp, as though every tiny puff of air causes the score to go down on either side. No winner kisses like this, with such hopeless abandon.
Treading bold fingers through ice white locks, Ichigo rubs the other boy's scalp with his knuckles, a mute request of possession. Toshiro lays down compliantly and takes the redhead along, their kiss blooming in a soft-hard whirl of prying tongues. Snogging is strange, Ichigo's addled brain muses somewhere in the middle – you can do it again and again and then a bit more, it's never the same and it's never enough. It's a compromise, a torturing price one agrees to pay endlessly in exchange for the immediate pleasures of sex and the bone-deep satisfaction of having someone to call one's own.
Here's when Toshiro pulls his hair sharply to crush their mouths together and Ichigo's mind shuts down obediently.
The smaller boy opens beautifully under him, and yes, yeah, just like that, the ginger slides tremulously between parted thighs, bringing their bodies in contact from head to toe. Mh, gods. His member twitches interestedly inside his boxers. So long. So bleeding long.
Toshiro bucks awkwardly, but they're pressed flush together and it feels amazing nonetheless. Ichigo finds himself short of breath within moments, which is ominously embarrassing to a degree, yet somewhat right too – that he might still afford being out of breath against Toshiro's mouth of all places is quite a feat of its own. The redhead ventures a nonchalant rocking motion; since the other makes no move to push him away he gathers it's okay to take things to the next level and sets to do so by digging his fingers into the smaller boy's hips, effectively prying Toshiro's legs further apart. Muscles trained during years of relentless sport practice clamp hard on the carrot-top's sides, all but yelling their own way at Ichigo to get the hell on with whatever folly it is they're yielding to here. The med student needs no ulterior prompting: a couple sloppier kisses later his left hand is cradling Toshiro's head to cushion his pitiful grinding against the unforgiving soil, while his right hand creeps decidedly down the athlete's body, coming to nestle happily below the snowy head's beltline.
That's when Ichigo realizes something's off.
"Hey…"
Toshiro scrambles to get away, but the redhead straddling him hinders his attempts. Quickly losing his fighting will, the short boy goes stiff as a board, head turned to the side as to flee the other's piercing hazel stare.
"You… you're not…"
A furious blush spreads across the usually pale youth's features. Pulling back to get a better view of his reluctant lover, Ichigo is struck by the foreign look in the elusive aquamarine eyes. Sure enough it's not mere mortification that's dimming their colour, although the ginger is unsure he wants to see more. "We can…" Toshiro shoots him the briefest glance, only to look away soon after. "… if you want, we can… anyway."
Something dies just like that.
Ichigo feels the stammered words soak through his skin like droplets of a heavy, horrific rain. His head starts spinning with the shock of the impact. That Toshiro may not be as into what they're doing as he is now seems so unimportant compared to the cold resignation the boy's proposal is laced with. As if…! "You think I'd do something like that?" Ichigo can't help but spit, even though – he's perfectly aware – that is so not the point. It's written on the footballer's face, the heartless pliancy he'd much rather not be able to decipher, and it's killing him. Worse yet, it's killing them.
Toshiro stubbornly refuses to meet his stare, but gives up reiterating his offer.
Wrong. This is undoubtedly wrong, and it's crazy that something like this would happen to them, after all they've been through, but… that Toshiro would even suggest… Ichigo is not thinking straight, his priorities feel completely messed up. There's nothing he can do now but gaze down with cloudy, distant eyes at his lying lover before rising on his feet and crawling out of the tent, the thick hot summer air hitting him like a punch in the gut.
Ichigo barely notices. Sweat breaks on his forehead causing a few orange strands to stick haphazardly, his half-lidded eyes squint in the punishing sunlight, the contrast adding to the blur in his vision making it hard to walk straight.
Not that it matters anyway.
He runs.

Packing is hardly the end of a journey, Ichigo considers while fixing his stare on the pile of neatly folded sleeping bags tied to the roof of Renji's car. His insides twist uncomfortably at the idea of what's coming in the morning. A five-hours trip back to civilization with no A/C and they're out of beers… guess it's as good a time as any to start smoking for real.
His knees give out and he slouches against the hood of his former roommate's car. The sky above is liquid and black, only punctuated every now and then by sharp looking bright dots – weird, stars never seem so far and unyielding when gazed at from the city. Ichigo crosses his legs for leverage as an unforeseen shiver runs down his spine. The metal of the coachwork pressing against the small of his back feels scorching hot after staying out in the sun all day, but he doesn't move, oddly reassured by the burn on his skin. Since this is what we've come to…
"The weather forecast has it tomorrow's temperatures are going to tip the scale for this season."
The unmistakable sound of footsteps reaches his ears minutes before a thin silhouette comes into view. Ichigo casts a quick look sideways, then shifts to make room next to himself, just in case the smaller boy is feeling companionable. Unlikely, but still. "Sweet." When Toshiro gives no sign of wanting to step closer, the redhead's mouth moves on its own accord. "You really here to talk the weather?"
Damn, it's going all wrong. A stab of guilt pierces through him forcing Ichigo to drop his stare to the ground. They haven't really had a proper conversation in forever, and this is possibly the worst way to start one in the aftermath of yesterday's quake.
With the corner of his eye the med student sees Toshiro shake his head guiltily. "I owe you an explanation."
The meek offer prods Ichigo's shame to the point of no return. "No."
A taut scowl wriggles the prodigy's brow in response. "Of course I – "
"No, you don't." Snapping in a tone of finality, the carrot-top collects his courage and raises his head to lock eyes. "I'm sorry about yesterday."
Silence stretches a gap between them neither feels up to fill for a few moments. His inner struggle clearly visible in the nervous faltering of his stare, Toshiro admits quietly at last: "It'd have been better if you had not made a run for it."
Checkmate. New game? Ichigo chokes out reluctantly: "Yeah. That…"
"So I wouldn't have to do this now." A hollow noise, probably a twig snapping under Toshiro's weight as the boy treads closer, and the athlete comes to rest his back against Renji's car, standing right next to the taller youth.
Ichigo can't help but stiffen at the proximity. No matter how awkwardness-proof their physical interactions should have become by now, such closeness is still a tad challenging outside the bedroom – when it's not wise to act on it anyhow.
"I'm falling for you all over again. That's why I can't."
His breath hitches abruptly.
Waving his hands about uneasily, Toshiro struggles to form the words. "We… are a bad idea. It was widely proved by past occurrences, and the lesson still stands." His voice grows steadier yet lowers in volume as the snowy head softly goes on. "With every day I spend away from you, I'm winning my life back. There's no room for threats to my balance, and you're like the absolute biggest. So I can't let you anywhere near where it matters. 'Cause that's where it hurts the most."
The ground beneath them looks solid and uncaring, hence Ichigo can hardly place this ominous feeling of being swallowed up whole. Inside a cold silence is blooming, muffling every breath of life in its wake – this, too, is strange, clashes oddly with the perfectly audible cries of mirth coming from their group of friends, currently busy packing up Izuru's car mere meters away.
The car sways lightly as Toshiro pushes himself upright, his body language most unquestionably declaring the conversation over. Ichigo's befuddled brain starts racing at that, madly chasing after the words that'd work the charm, the words to make him stay.
He never gets to try though – Toshiro's conclusion leaves him frozen on the spot.
"Just don't be sorry. It's not worth it."
A short-lived smile, the ultimate weapon to convince Ichigo this is right, the final effort to keep up appearances. Otherwise, one last fraction of a second to frown at the idiocy, be selfish and see right through the deceit; one last heartbeat and one last chance to be a man, grab the truth, shake it cleared of all bullshit and dare look happiness in the eyes, as terribly though they might shine.
Ichigo blinks and the moment's gone along with Toshiro, whose retreating back marks tonight's timeout.
Sparkling unwittingly above their heads, stars speak. Stars tell everything.

.

A/N: this last line was freely adapted from a poem by Aleksandr Blok (namely, "Night. Citycalmed down"). Do check him out if you will, he had one hell of a way with words.
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Happy Ending