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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
.

"And you don't think all the branch-ripping you so happily indulged in along the way has anything to do with your car ditching us in the middle of God-forsaken nowhereville? So sorry I ever doubted your brains, you lame excuse for a, a – whatever! I can't bring myself to call you a man, let alone a policeman since you put us into this mess!"
Leaning over the smoking hood with what Toshiro must presume is his Unfaltering Concentration Mode face on, Renji screws his eyes tight shut. "Will you. Please. Stop yelling for a bloody sec? I'm trying to think here."
Promptly going along with Rukia's teasing, Momo lets out a breathy murmur. "Well, now that's a first."
"You girls are really being helpful." A supreme snort of annoyance, then the tattooed man turns to lay pleading eyes on the two standing silhouettes by his side. "Berry? Midget? You're the smart ones. Save the day?"
This is, Toshiro muses distractedly, his head cocked to the side in a for-the-sake-of-appearances pensive pose, exactly the kind of things he enjoys the very least. Must have something to do with the scorching sunburn his bare and so very unaccustomed shoulders are currently suffering from, though being punched square on the nose by one of the few opponents he's no game to face – that is, car mechanics – does little to lighten the mood. Eventually resolving to take matters upon himself (Ichigo's silence, though a practiced leitmotiv these past, say, 24 hours, is really getting embarrassing), the former whiz kid speaks in a flat, unperturbed voice. "There's smoke coming out of the very place the engine is supposed to be. Doesn't strike me as a good sign."
"Really? !" Renji's exasperated reaction comes predictably enough. Toshiro stays unfazed – sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, as goes the saying. "Man, you're all useless. If only I had kept Pretty Face with me, instead of letting him run off with Blondie! Bet he'd know what to do ten times better than you pansies."
Momo is ever so quick to seize the opportunity of a change of topic as soon as that presents itself. "Speaking of which… you don't find it a little suspicious how eager Sojiro-kun sounded to take off with Izuru, instead of bunking in Pineapple's car with the rest of us?"
"Turns out he bested us all there." Toshiro can't help but scoff quietly.
The prodigy's scorn is barley taken into account as Rukia waves dismissively in his direction, visibly keen on her girlfriend's intriguing assumption. "The two of them have seemed to be getting pretty close over time, what with sharing a tent for so many nights and all. Could it be…?" The brunettes exchange eloquent looks.
"No way. Ichimaru-sensei is the very reason why Izuru breathes anymore!"
"But wasn't he always kind of the abusive lover? I'd bet that gets tiring in time."
"You think Sojiro-kun succeeded in showing Izuru the bright lights of freedom and self-respect awaiting at the end of the gloomy tunnel that's Gin?" Momo's eyes are glowing dreamily by now.
Her partner in crime only nods knowingly. "That's a way to put it."
"Excuse me, my fair ladies, but just how is this otherwise extremely interesting and pressing inquiry of any help at the present?" Renji's barking tone clashes curiously with his lofty wording as he points at the fuming car before them, both eyebrows arched matter-of-factly. "Besides, your theories are so far-fetched it's paining my ears to listen."
Being interrupted – by a man nonetheless – is at the very top of Momo's Don'ts Chart, Toshiro knows from experience. His cousin's venomous comeback does not surprise him in the slightest. "Then don't!"
The young Kuchiki raises a hand to placate her accomplice and leans towards Renji with a devious look in her eyes, all the while swinging on the balls of her feet in impatience. "What is your guess?"
"Guys!"
Toshiro's heart leaps oh-so-very discreetly in his chest, an unmistakable though unwanted reaction. Guess he wasn't dozing on the spot after all.
Crossing his arms as if putting distance between himself and his friends' idiocy, Ichigo gives a characteristic eyeroll. "I can't believe we're discussing this while we all should be much more concerned about being stuck in the desert for who knows how long with as few provisions as Momo's unbecoming 'fancy a snack?' attitude left us with, but, come on… we don't even know for sure if Kusaka does men!"
Toshiro chokes on his spit. What? ! So much for appreciating the carrot-top's common sense! A fierce urge to strangle his ex lover for taking part in the general folly overwhelms him, and the footballer has to take a few deep breaths to cool off. A friggin' poor joke, that's what his life has felt like ever since the little European debacle.
Three pairs of wide, disbelieving eyes meet the redhead's protest, one message distinctly conveyed by all. "He combs his hair, Berry-kun." Momo retorts on everyone's behalf at last. "And by 'comb' I don't mean that barbaric 'thread my fingers through it because I'm too cool and manly for conditioning' you guys all stick by."
"Thought you didn't believe such thing as sexual orientation even existed, Ichigo." Rukia stomps the boot in, a sinister sparkle shining through those dark pits of hers. (Toshiro is constantly baffled by the fiery Kuchiki's offhand digs. Seriously – and not that he cares anyway – but Ichigo does seem to find himself at the receiving end of quite a number of poisonous darts as of late.) "Had a change of heart?"
The atmosphere thickens just like that. Toshiro shifts his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, as Ichigo's perceivable stiffening and the following silence are brusquely disrupted by the tattooed cop's incredulous whine. "What, you're shitting me! If anyone here is a living testament to bisexuality, that's…" Then Renji must take in the dangerous look on his former roommate's face, because he trails off abruptly.
Thank god. Toshiro draws a deep breath. He's prone to wish they're all leaving it be now –
"Well, Shiro-chan can solve this for us in the blink of an eye, can't he?"
Uh-oh. Everyone but Ichigo stares down at him hungrily. Bloody unbelievable! The small genius shakes his head in defeat. To go this far for the sake of petty gossiping…! "You already know I won't, so spare yourselves the pain of trying." He shoots his friends down bitingly, opportunely overlooking his own curiosity – the topic of Sojiro's sexuality has been bothering him too since forever, but there's no way he's associating with the snoopy girls anyhow. Better to drive the conversation towards safer shores, Toshiro resolves. "How about we actually do something to get out of this mess now? I've had enough sleeping on the outside for a lifetime, I was planning on lying in a real bed tonight, thank you very much."
This finally succeeds in diverting the ladies attention. Momo claps her hands together and all but jumps on the spot. "A real bed! Ooooooh, my… I miss it so much!"
"Don't tell me! My back hasn't felt quite the same since we left town." Scratching her elbow viciously, Rukia grimaces. "And I itch all over. Damn bugs."
Who was the camping pariah again? Toshiro muses with inward amusement, but decides against voicing his triumph. "It can't be that hard to find a mechanic around here. We just need to reach the nearest town."
"Today is a Sunday, no garage will be in service. We'd better start looking for a place to crash till we fix the car."
The sound of Ichigo's voice, louder in his ears than it has been since their clumsy liason in the tent, causes Toshiro's skin to prickle and the fine hairs on his arms to stand. Aggravated by both his stupid bodily reactions and the calendar oversight, the athlete winces – such move is not lost on the ginger head, who backs up a pace to give him room.
Self-consciousness and pure, undiluted guilt radiate off the medic's body in waves. Oh, for god's sake. Toshiro bites ferociously on his tongue to keep from screaming out his frustration. Honestly, Ichigo can't go on being like this around him. The whole sodding world will notice.
Cracking on the man's lips in the sudden stillness, Renji's shit-eater grin makes a nice save. "Leave it to me then. I have ways you proletariats can only imagine."

"So? Did I or did I not tell you I'm a man for all necessities?"
The motel room looks every bit as expected of a cranky heap of wooden planks put together by chance or misfortune in the midst of an otherwise untouched wasteland. Toshiro is standing on the threshold with Ichigo right on his side, both blokes knowing better than to step food inside first – it's not like their opinion is of any consequence anyway, since Renji is clearly aiming his ego outburst at the picky ladies of their little messed up gang.
"The place is not bad." Momo concedes, moving surreptitiously about the narrow room. "Not the Ritz Hotel, but it's still an improvement compared to the cold dirt we slept on these past few nights."
The young Kuchiki offers her support promptly. "And my bug detector is laying low, which is good news."
Just as the words leave her mouth, a sinister swish catches Toshiro's attention. "Maybe your bug detector is not set to cover cockroaches. I'm fairly positive the bedspread just moved."
Several minutes of bug-watching in perfect stillness elapse before Rukia chirps gaily. "Well, Momo and I are taking the other room then! Prob solved, see you lot at dinner!" Here the couple bolts, giggling their way out with a malice that sends chills down Toshiro's spine. Why does it always feel like the girls are Up To Something, again?
Ichigo's neutral voice shakes him out of his upset brooding. "Good one, Renji. How did you even manage?"
The pineapple head props down on a twin bed and lowers his gaze to the ground, sighing resignedly. "I gave Kuchiki-taichou a ring and whined till he took pity on me and found us a place." He admits in a small voice, eyes glued to his shuffling feet with an utterly forlorn aura ghosting above his slouched shoulders.
Hn. Figures. Inwardly snorting at the pitiful display, Toshiro cocks an eyebrow. "Back to the honorifics, are you?"
Renji lets out a tortured whimper at that. "Taichou won't allow me to call him Byakuya again after a couple accidents occurred…"
"You mean, like that time your neighbours called the police 'cause we were being too loud and the poor man had to rush in your aid?"
That's when Toshiro's heart skips a beat (or two, or seventy-thousands). Memories of the day in question – that was the very first time Ichigo broke in his personal bubble, Renji's congrats party, how could he, how could he, how could he bring that up now? – come flooding to his brain, crowding it with their heavy load of swirling emotions. It'd be so much easier, the silver-haired boy realizes as what little tan he achieved over the past days leaves his face, if recalling the start of his relationship with Ichigo only brought on bitterness and regret. But there's this sweet fuzziness, this soft cloud of warmth lingering above the images from his memory that won't leave him alone. It's like all the angst was carried away by merciful waves of forgiveness and drowned in the fog of time, leaving a somewhat innocent trail of light in its wake. Toshiro scoffs under his breath. My, am I getting soft in my old age. A minuscule part of him winces at the sheer lenience he's capable of feeling for a whole different reason, though, one Toshiro is not ready to dwell over, nor deal with the consequences of.
(If it tastes so sweet, it's because it's been under the bridge. But over and done with is not an idea he feels ready to wrap his mind around as of yet.)
"You know it wouldn't really hurt to keep your astounding memory skills to yourself every once in a while." Renji spits sourly, shooting a dark look the carrot-top's way. Good thing the lively cop was always totally inept at sulking; his sharp features have brightened up before long, and a giant smile is plastered across his face the moment he leaps up, moving sparkling eyes from one of his friend to the other. "So! Time to go get a feel of the town so we don't waste any time finding a garage tomorrow. Who's coming?"
The reception is colder than if the redhead had suggested to go deer hunting in the night. It's not that the proposal is hateful in itself, as much as it obviously requires for them – either Ichigo or himself – to make a choice, since the "both" option is so very out of question. A road trip together with neutral friends he can stand, but going clubbing and jammin' in the night like old buddies is far more than Toshiro can force himself to endure for the sake of Not Embarrassing The Others.
Finally Ichigo rips them all out of the impasse, though his solution is not the likes of what Toshiro had been expecting. "You two go, I need to make a phone call and it may take a while. I don't wish to keep you."
The med student shifts his weight none too casually against the doorframe and looks straight into Renji's eyes. Some kind of understanding passes, lightning fast, between the former roommates, leaving the snowy head no choice but to wonder in silence. "Fine!" The taller redhead pipes up at last, throwing a muscular arm around Toshiro's shoulders for good measure. "Come with me and uncle Renji's gonna make a real man outta you, right, midget?"
"Tch. I think I'll let the torn branches jutting out of your car's hood answer this one for me." The footballer mutters grumpily, yet lacking genuine malice. He's too grateful for Renji's mere presence, not to mention his constant efforts to quell any tension that may threaten to rise because of goddamned unsolved issues, to harbour real contempt. "Let's go."
Toshiro is pretty sure Ichigo's arm brushes against his shoulder as they cross each other on the way out, but he adamantly refuses to pay the accident any heed. Stop it. You're being ridiculous. The both of you.
Speak of good company.

They're stumbling through the motel entrance, the taller man leaning heavily on the other's shoulders for support (Renji in a fit of giggles equals Totally Useless Renji, Toshiro mentally stores for future reference), when it happens.
The girls' bedroom is conveniently located down the main corridor on the ground-floor ("just in case something occurs and we need to vacate the building!", as Momo had put it), and the door is only half closed when the two boys pass it by on their way to the central staircase.
"So I get it things didn't go all that brilliantly when we left you two alone that afternoon, huh?"
Toshiro stops dead in his tracks.
Over a startled Renji's moan of protest ("Da hell, midget? Give a man a warnin'!"), Ichigo's voice sounds strained, as though he's just choked on his words. "You did that on purpose?"
Sharing a flat with a horde of loud freaks has its bright sides; for one, you become awfully aware of all those traits that make each their own person, such as footsteps, scent, speaking quirks. Toshiro couldn't mistake Rukia's snort of resentment if he tried. "Don't give me that outraged look, we're all just worried about you. Since he's been back, you know, after he spent that bunch of days at your place, it felt almost like things were going to be right again. We thought you just needed a little prodding, and… did the prod."
"Thanks a fucking load." A weak groan accompanies the ginger's retort, only partially muffled by the thin barrier of cheap wood. "As you can't have missed, we're currently not even speaking."
Sensing the pressure building, Renji straightens up to support himself. Toshiro shoots him a quick grateful look, then touches the left side of his face to the wall and presses an ear against the door jamb.
"I feel bad just watching you two. To think you used to be the closest among us." A creaking noise, probably Rukia sitting down on the bed, then a condescending sigh. "Just what did you do to screw it up this time?"
Sarcasm flows freely with Ichigo's comeback. "You have no idea how comforting it is to see you're automatically placing the blame. Your unfaltering support means the world to me, Rukia."
"Sorry." The young Kuchiki has the sense to sound sheepish for a second. Insincerely so: " 'cept you did blow it again, huh?"
In the gap of silence that follows, Toshiro can practically feel Ichigo stiffen. He's not sure whether sleeping with someone provides an even greater intimacy than living together, but this twisted sort of connection between them is no news. For one brief paralyzing moment he holds his breath, suddenly wondering – what if this strange link is mutual and Ichigo can tell he's shamelessly eavesdropping? – but the redhead hesitantly replying dissipates his fears. "I don't even know. I thought…"
Ichigo's breath hitches, and Toshiro takes it as an accusation of sorts. "Nevermind. It's beyond repair now."
Guilt stabs the small prodigy in the back, sneaky and bloodthirsty. Am I really…? Am I…? His thought process feels uncommonly hindered, which Toshiro can only blame on his synapses being overly busy sending shocks down his shaky limbs.
Am I letting the burden fall on Ichigo's shoulders alone?
He's still struggling to get a hold on his brain gears working when the familiar smacking noise of Rukia's corporal punishments reaches his ears. "Nothing is beyond repair, you damn melodramatic nitwit. I mean, if you and Toshiro can't be fixed, then Renji's car doesn't stand a chance. And I'm not spending more than one night in this filthy hole."
"Thought she said the place was okay!" The tattooed policeman mumbles, struggling to keep his voice low through his angry fit. "Wait till that ungrateful half-woman learns it was her precious nii-san who found it…" Only then does Renji notice his supposed interlocutor isn't really paying attention. "Midget? Ya okay?"
Toshiro is not sure exactly how he's supposed to be feeling about what he's just heard (assuming he's even supposed to be feeling anything), though "okay" is definitely not a word he'd be incline to use. His feet make a choice of their own and take him as far as possible from the spot his little sand castle of self-righteousness was wiped away by one incomplete line.
I don't even know. I thought…
"Na, midget! Where're ye off to?" No amount of Renji's (quite comical, actually) shushed yelling stops his pacing.
Just what did you think, Ichigo?

On the top floor, Toshiro had noticed right upon first entering the motel, stretches a bare terrace the same width as the basement. It must have been thought as a nice spot for star-gazing originally, then abandoned the moment it became clear that no passerby who was forced to bunk in such a cheap lair for one night or two would ever be seduced by the perspective of petty nighttime luxuries.
At the sight of a standing Ichigo frowning down at his mobile phone's display, Toshiro feels a smirk bloom on his own lips unwittingly. Not the nighttime luxuries type, though…
"Am I interrupting something?"
Judging by the abrupt start in his shoulders set, the ginger had not heard him approaching. Round hazel eyes scan Toshiro's form bemusedly, seemingly doubting themselves. "Huh, no. 's just that stupid tool won't cooperate." Ichigo waves his mobile in the air matter-of-factly. The awkwardness of his movements and general wariness painted on his face are not lost on the footballer, who nibbles his lower lip hesitatingly. Can't blame him for being taken aback. This is fucking messed up.
Fighting his own urge to turn and run, Toshiro moves his first unsure steps across the balcony – it's hard to miss how Ichigo cringes and presses back against the sill reflexively. This tears a maddened grunt off the whiz kid's lips. Seriously, now. That the same man who's had his cock up Toshiro's ass in countless occasions would be freaked out by their mere sharing an opened space crosses the limit line of ridiculous. Growing confident, the smaller boy covers the last few paces separating him from the redhead and leans over the balcony sill, right by his side though out of touching range. This should do. "You didn't fuck up." Toshiro blurts it out curtly. He's well aware of how Ichigo winces at the words, but it can't be helped: if he beats around the bush now, they may never get to the bloody point. "Not this time, at least."
Their eyes don't dare meet. Toshiro's are fixed on the ground several floors below, while the medic's wander aimlessly about before setting on the low skyline, a curious dreamy look reflected in them. "You'd think I should know better than to trust Rukia's discretion by now, yet I fall for it every time." He lets out at last, his tone softer than Toshiro had anticipated.
"She didn't say a thing, I just stumbled on a right time right place circumstance." The prodigy corrects, and the full irony of those words hits him hard as they leave his mouth, which twitches in a harsh half-smile. "Isn't that a first."
Toshiro can't bring himself to watch Ichigo yet, but he's not surprised to hear him mock snort beside him. "No shit."
The silence falling over their heads now is just a hair more comfortable than before, and the small athlete ventures to relax a fraction, elbows pointed firmly on the sill and chin resting against his entwined palms. Unexpectedly gentle, the nightly breeze ruffles the white bangs framing his face, and Toshiro tugs his hair back with a lazy sweep of his hand.
Ichigo's voice comes from afar, distant and cool yet downright physical, like an unforgiving gust of air. "Did you really think I'd take advantage of you like that?"
It takes him a whole minute to put two and two together, and even when he does, part of Toshiro's mind refuses to accept Ichigo might have been dwelling on that crucial error all this time. "That's not taking advantage. Not if I'm volunteering."
"Then how do you call it?"
The young prodigy's eyes are unfocused, lost in the pitch dark surrounding them, as he gives a nonchalant shrug. "Being a good buddy? Or fuckbuddy at that."
"You think this – you really think that's what it was about?" The coil of subtle tension in the air snaps all at once, Ichigo pulling himself from the ledge with a jerkily sway of his hips. His new stance is the likes of which demand full attention, as is the shaky underlying in his enraged voice. The snowy head has no choice but to comply him and turn his focus. "You're not some cheap sex toy to me, Toshiro. You are…" Ichigo's resolve falters briefly as teal eyes bore into his skull, daring him to finish his thought. "… you were my lover."
Something in the meek rephrasing sets Toshiro off like fireworks. "Well, excuse me for not being too good at reading through your inexplicable mood swings. One can't tell what the hell is up with you half the time!"
He's not playing fair, he knows it – and it reads on the carrot-top's flabbergasted face to boot. "You're shitting me, right? I told you I – " It's plain to see Ichigo's hands are all but itching to grab Toshiro's arm and spin him around, as both a tension outlet and a means to force eye contact. The redhead resists temptation by shoving his curled fists down his pockets, his shoulders hunched forth as though keeping that lithe body perfectly upright was too much to ask of them under such circumstances. "I made my feelings pretty damn clear back in December. And I know you probably filed that night away under 'all-time lows to forget', but you can't exactly go on and pretend like it never happened!" The medic's voice raises an octave as he carries on. "Dammit, Toshiro. I'm not letting you turn the tables and have it sound like I don't care, not anymore. Not when I obviously…"
A minuscule flicker of something passes in golden brown eyes, though Toshiro can't put a name to it no matter how he squints – it's gone before long anyway.
Ichigo presses his lips together, but a frustrated huff escapes them nonetheless. "Have you got the slightest idea how I felt when you were hospitalized?"
That's all it takes to throw Toshiro off balance.
By the time his former lover regains the courage to speak, his tone has softened considerably, words drenched in heavy nostalgia despite the tiny smile twisting his features. "I couldn't seem to leave your bedside for more than a few minutes without my hands starting to sweat and my feet fidgeting to go back. Did you ever know I slept right there on the floor, the night before you were discharged?"
The athlete can only shake his head in mute astonishment. This is a side of the story, a side of their story he never once –
"Once you were back at your flat I got paranoid. Kept wondering whether I'd even get to see you again, what with Yoruichi-sensei's proposal and all." This last line sounds like a milestone marking the end of safe road and start of the wild lands, vast and lonely and totally unlike anything they could ever call 'us'. "Are you… have you made up your mind yet?"
Toshiro draws in a deep breath that echoes Ichigo's shaky outtake. It's just the right thing, that question now of all times, what with the two of them being alone and able to finally, finally discuss it like it means something, as if –
Ichigo's mobile picks that exact instant to come alive and chirp urgently. The redhead's eyes widen, his lips offer a mute "sorry", but Toshiro sense it go away, fade the moment the call is taken and a stiff female voice resounds – I know this, I know, Tatsuki, was it always Tatsuki? makes sense, makes a whole load of sense. a tough one indeed, no wonder. no wonder – Toshiro has to avert his gaze and physically will himself to desert the scene, disregarding the flash of hurt in Ichigo's restless orbs.
He crawls back down the stairs and wishes he were deaf not to hear the ginger's tone gently switch.

"That bad, huh?"
Toshiro stares straight ahead, mindfogged.
Sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed, Renji rolls his eyes. "You two are so painfully obvious, really. It's a wonder how you're not married and adopting kids by now, given you and Berry are so alike you make the closest to a perfect match I've ever seen."
The whiz kid takes a moment to elaborate, then opts for shrugging it off with a sideways smirk. "What can I say. Am still too young to be called a mommy."
Renji snickers heartily. "Ha! Wanna know something, brat? I was not all that impressed by you in the beginnin'… couldn't see why Berry and the others seemed so damn fond of ya. But I think I get it a li'l more now." A cocky grin blooms on the cop's face, just like every time he's preparing for a stroke of genius. "You're like the poshest meal on a specialty menu. Very few can afford you, so people spread bad rumors to convince themselves you're not really worth it anyway. 's like that old thing 'bout, how did that go?, the crow and the mistletoe? Coyote and cherries?" Renji scowls, so deeply intent it's fun to watch. "There were no bananas involved, were there."
I expected the grapes were sour anyway, said the little fox turning tail on the high-up vine. Toshiro smirks. Somehow it doesn't feel polite to correct Renji as the redhead is being his uttermost nicest since they met.
"Well, that, anyway. I just meant – hell, you must know what I meant better than me, you're the bloody genius around here – that, that it's not so bad ta hang out with you after all. You're a damn funny little bastard when, you know, when you're not being a prissy conceited git." The pineapple head flashes his trademark shit-eater smile. "Which is like nine tenths of the time, mind ya."
Warmth spreads ever so hesitantly deep down Toshiro's very core. The comfort good friends provide in times of need is something he will hardly get used to, let alone take for granted. Nice to know you exist, Abarai, you senseless retard. Needless to mention, he says otherwise. "I'll admit you're confusing me here. Am I supposed to thank you for being a tad less insulting than usual, overlooking the fact you practically compared me to an escargot of some sort?"
"An escor – wha?"
Toshiro is just rolling his eyes – "Nevermind." – when the door cracks open with a feeble whine.
That something is wrong with Ichigo is painfully obvious from his atypically pale complexion and blank stare. Renji is not really the observant type, though, or simply lacks Toshiro's finesse; he takes their roommate's entrance as his cue to change the subject and give the conversation a merry twist. "Yo, mate! Midget and I here were just goin' through the chat we had with the mechanic this afternoon, you know, 'bout the car and all. Old chap was totally out of it too, I'm telling ya. Completely, batshit crazy. Guess you're bound to lose it someday, growing up in a place like this with no cable porn nor – "
"Guys." Ichigo sounds tired and old, yet again distant – where is it that he goes everytime? Toshiro thinks if he could ever figure this out, the whole Kurosaki mystery would be solved for good – as he saunters almost blindly towards his bed. The way he virtually collapses on it, heavy and miserable and utterly worn out, makes Toshiro shudder and his heart clench as a knot of sickness settles in his belly. "Do you mind it if we call it a night? I'm beat."
After that, the only audible sound is Renji's baffled, "uh, well, sure" muttered in the shadows falling at Ichigo's peremptory flicking the switch off. Night pours itself over their heads in the blink of a bloodshot eye.

I thought…

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