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For The Love of a Friend	By : orionshadow Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female Views: 32416 -:- 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.

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Tite Kubo owns Bleach and the characters depicted therein.   The characters in this story are not mine, except for the original characters. I make no money from the publication of this work.

Silent Friendly Love

His eyes didn't want to open and his memory of the previous night was non-existent, so he didn't know where he was. He could be in his quarters, but it didn't feel like he was in bed. It felt like he was lying on his side and he noticed his neck hurt and the floor beneath his head was hard. To try to stop his neck from aching, he tried to roll on his back but the movement made his head hurt and his stomach rebelled as well. Was he sick? He tried to work it out while trying to recall what had happened on the previous day, but thinking hurt his head. If he felt sick and in pain he might be sick? He dimly recalled feeling like this once or twice before; recently. Now his shoulder joined his neck in sending pain signals and even though it was an effort he decided to roll onto his back, ignoring his stomach and head's complaints. If he was going to be in pain he may as well be more comfortable? The reasoning seemed flawed but it was painful to try to work it through.

He rolled onto his back. Mistake. The rebellion in his stomach became more of an armed revolution, with canon fire and really irregular cavalry charges. He had to get up and find somewhere he could release the revolutionary army that was storming his throat, ready to pour forth from his mouth. His head felt like it was attempting to explode from the movement but he had little choice. After a few frantic attempts he managed to get to his feet, but his eyes still refused to open. Waving one hand in front of him, while the other was clamped over his mouth, he desperately sought to find some direction. Without warning he tripped over someone and fell. Without thinking, he put out both hands, abandoning his mouth and hoping the shock would keep his stomach contents in place for the moment and found he was holding onto either a table or bench. Feeling more stable he managed to get one eye to partially open. Directly in front of him was what seemed to be a bathroom. Staggering as fast as he could, one hand over his mouth again he managed to make it, just in time.

Heaving, he felt sweat bead on his brow as his stomach released the soldiers of the revolutionary army to their destination. The cavalry charged over and over again as the canon's spat out their contents in harsh bursts. The sweat now sprang out on the rest of his body and he felt chills race over his skin as his stomach attempted to escape from his body. He was very ill. His mouth tasted foul. He felt dizzy, hot, cold, sore, weak and his head throbbed even harder. Maybe he should go to Fourth Division. They might be able to treat him.

Finally, it seemed his stomach was empty. Collapsing onto the floor he rested his head against the nearest flat surface, which proved to be the floor. He felt too weak to try to stand again but after emptying his stomach he longed to drink something. Something in his mind seemed to react to the word drink and the pain in his head increased. Even though he thought his stomach was empty it seemed ready to react to the act of drinking. Saliva filled his mouth, and he wondered if it was a prelude to another bout of sickness.   Swallowing hard, he waited until the episode resolved itself.

Breathing as calmly as he could helped the moment pass and he groaned loudly. Water. He needed it. It was a craving which was essential to assuage. The thought of cold liquid spilling down his throat led to a small memory.

Then he remembered the flavour of the last thing he'd drunk.

Drinking; that was why he was feeling this way. He'd felt like this before when he'd spent some time with Shunsui, trying to forget the relationship he had with...

No. He didn't want to think about it.

Trying to ignore the pain in his head, he worked hard on opening the one eye that seemed to be functioning. It hurt, so he shut it and decided that the floor was the best place for him.

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Something wet was on his face. Something like water. Why would he have water on his face? His stomach hurt and so did his head and he was so very thirsty.

"Wake up, Shiro. Come on. It's late and Nanao is angry with me, again."

"Go 'way,' he mumbled in reply.

"No. We're in my quarters. Why should I go away?"

Now he recognised the voice. "Water," he pleaded. "Please Shunsui."

"I gave you water," Shunsui replied, sounding a little hurt.

"Water to drink, not splash on my face."

Then he felt someone lift his head, which hurt and he opened his mouth to protest only to find water flowing into his mouth. Swallowing, he felt the water go down his throat, cooling the thirst and then a sharp, lingering pain in his chest as the water passed that point. Ignoring the pain, he kept drinking. He needed the water.

"That's enough for now," he heard Shunsui say as he took the source of the water away. "You don't want to vomit again."

"Water!"

"No. You've already been sick. Let that water settle in your stomach for a moment," Shunsui said. "Can you get up? I want to use the bathroom, in privacy."

Toshiro rolled onto one side and tried to get up but it was too much effort. Flopping back to the floor, he groaned again, wanting it to be over.

"Shiro, I think you want to leave this room, NOW," were Shunsui's urgent words.

"Give me a minute," he said, with little hope.

"Either you leave on your own or I drag you out. A man had needs," Shunsui sounded as if he were displaying an admirable amount of restraint.

Trying again, Shiro managed to rise to his feet and staggered out only to hear the frantic slam of the bathroom door. Finding something to sit on with his eyes shut was not easy and nothing concealed the sigh of relief Shunsui was uttering. He tried to block out any noises and turned his attention to trying to walk as it seemed more difficult than it should. As he was feeling so bad, Shiro was shuffling on the floor instead of walking. His toes were becoming sore as he kept stubbing them on bottles which rolled away from him and he probably walked into any number of them. His knees bumped into something hard and opening the one eye that functioned slightly a slight relief enveloped him. He'd found a chair and eased into it, slowly and gingerly.

A few minutes passed as he tried to stop feeling sick. He wanted water but trying to get up again seemed impossible. If he waited a few minutes or hours he might feel better, or die. If he died he wouldn't feel like this so it wasn't a big fear. What he didn't want to do right now was think. Thinking was over-rated.

Immediately his mind began working on trying to remember the events which had caused him to drink so much. If he had visited Shunsui it meant something bad had happened. If he was this hung over he must be upset about something. It seemed such a long time ago he'd been shocked and annoyed with his lieutenant for drinking to excess. In some small way he understood it had been her way to deal with the grief and loss she felt. He should have been kinder to her and tried to understand and help because he was now in a similar situation. Matsumoto would understand and help him except she was with her husband and pregnant so she was far away and not drinking. Her sympathy would be nice, or she might laugh at him, or be sympathetic and amused. He missed her but not as much as....

He didn't want to think about it.

Water, he wanted more water.

Soi. He wanted to talk to Soi.

No, water was more important. It might help his head and let him open his eyes. He tried to rise to get some more, but found the effort too much and sank back down, swallowing hard.

How was he going to get some water to drink? His stomach wasn't rejecting the water Shunsui had given him yet his thirst seemed to increase by the moment. Maybe if he stopped thinking about water, his thirst might decrease and when he could open his eyes he would see where he was and then find the water he desperately needed.

How could he distract himself from thinking about water?

Before he could prevent his mind from wandering in the normal direction he found himself wondering why Soi hated him? What had he done?

His situation was partly his fault, or mostly. Partially? All? None of his fault? It didn't matter. He could act like an idiot and pretend Soi was fully to blame but it meant he would be lying to himself and the lies had to stop. For nearly the whole time he had been involved with her he had not been honest about much. At first he had hated being used, that was true and he only continued because he was worried about Momo. There was also the unacknowledged memory of how he began to derive a strange enjoyment from giving Soi pleasure. It was hard to remember how he'd thought in the past, when things had seemed simple. Now he knew he didn't love his friend the way he had originally imagined and instead had become truly involved with one of the most difficult people he'd ever encountered.

And she hated him.

She thought he was difficult!

She was pregnant with his child and didn't want him involved in any way. He had walked out and told her they would be formal acquaintances now and she could have her wish. Why had he said that? To salvage his pride. Anger and pride were the main motivations and they hardly aided any logical decision. Her indifference to him and the lack of concern she showed for their child had chilled and infuriated him.

Again he tried to open his eyes and with some effort, they opened. Light hurt and he shut them halfway as he tried to adjust to the brightness. It was day time and he was uncertain if it was morning, noon or afternoon. A quick glance around the room showed the floor was covered with bottles and bits of food. He noticed a sink and went there quickly, grabbing a glass and filling it to the brim with water which he drank in a few gulps and then breathed slowly. Instinct made him fill the glass again but this time he sipped it slowly. He knew he was fortunate not to have lost the small amount of water Shunsui had given him and he didn't wish to spend more time, hunched over some receptacle, vomiting.

"I will never drink again," he told the glass of water. It didn't reply.

"We all say that and in a few days we're back in the same situation," another voice said. "I'll stop drinking when I understand why Isane rejected me. Or not."

Toshiro looked at the water glass, wondering if it had in face replied, then he recognised the voice and turned and looked as his fellow captain. Shunsui's eyes were red, his clothing disarrayed and he wasn't standing as erect as normal, but had developed a slight hunch as he walked carefully to a chair near a table and sat in it gingerly. "The furniture is not to be trusted this morning."

It seemed an odd thing to say, but an attempt to raise his eyebrows made his forehead hurt, so he abandoned the attempt. "What do you mean?"

"Trying to get to the bathroom, things kept moving in front of me or under my feet, I've got bruises now. Nanao will be back soon. You might want to leave before then," Shunsui said with a loud sigh. "See the bottle next to you?"

Shiro was not happy at the thought of another bottle, but looked and saw something which did not resemble a sake bottle.

"Pour yourself a glass and drink it fast. It doesn't cure the hangover, but makes it a little better. Pour me a glass when you've finished? Thanks," his friend said as he let his head loll on his arm that was draped over the table, apparently not ready to move any further than was necessary.

Finishing the few sips of water left in his glass, he carefully filled the it from the bottle and drank it as fast as he could. The taste was not pleasant, at best. At worst it was vile and made him feel nauseous again, for a few seconds until a wave of heat passed through his boy. The headache lessened, the nausea passed and he was able to stand without holding onto any surface. Picking up another glass he filled it and walking carefully through the bottles, took the drink to Shunsui.

The man drank it without opening his eyes, shuddered, retched and then sat still. A few seconds later he opened his eyes. "I sometimes wonder if it's made to punish as well as help."

Shiro thought he understood what he meant and nodded, without his brain feeling like it was hitting concrete.

"Thanks. I better go. Good luck with Nanao."

Shunsui smiled at him. "She'll talk, I'll pretend to listen. As she talks, she'll clean. Some good will come of it."

Toshiro again wondered about the man's acceptance of being cared for so well even at the cost of unwelcome conversations. He couldn't imagine Matsumoto cleaning his quarters. Nor would he expect her to do so. He had to remind her to tidy her desk in the office often enough.

Smiling slightly at the thought of his lieutenant cleaning his quarters with Zaraki hovering around (a rather scary thought) he left after thanking his host again and walked into the street. From what he could tell, it seemed to be mid-morning. He felt dirty from his night and stopped at a bathhouse to wash. It didn't matter he had to wear his dirty clothes, as he could change as soon as he arrived back in his quarters.

Feeling better he walked home, trying to think of the work he needed to do rather than contemplate the disaster that was his relationship with Soi. Not thinking about Soi was hard but he kept distracting his attention with staring at the sky and wondering what might happen next in the war against Aizen.

When he reached his quarters, he opened the door and went in, closing the door firmly behind him as he began to strip off his clothes. Naked, he gathered the soiled items together and placed then with the rest of his laundry, resolving to have everything washed as soon as possible. The clothes smelt and were a reminder of yesterday and the total breakdown with Soi.

A soft noise drew his attention and he froze. Who would be in his quarters at this time of day? Why would anyone be there? Picking up his zanpakuto, he unsheathed it. Ignoring his lack of clothing he moved in the direction from which he thought the noise had come, his bed. The bed was not as he had left it. There seemed to be someone sleeping there.

This had happened before, he remembered, but was certain it wouldn't be Soi, not after the way they parted last night. It shouldn't be Kiyone now she was semi-engaged to Captain Kuchiki. Matsumoto was in Hueco Mundo, Momo was still in hospital from the last reports.

Moving closer he looked but only the hair was visible. Unsurprisingly it was black. Then he thought he saw something white on his white sheets and his heart stilled. Only one person braided her hair with white and that was Soi.

Walking away from the bed he placed his sword back in his scabbard and then put it near the door while he attempted to think what he should do. All the time he was trying to ignore his first instinct which was to get into the bed, pull Soi into his arms, without waking her, and hold her close. It was his instinct but at the same time he was certain she would wake as soon as she felt any movement in the bed.

Sitting on a chair where he could see the bed clearly, he decided to think clearly before doing anything. Now his head was no longer hurting, thinking might not be as dificult. Soi sighed softly in her sleep and he froze, wondering if she would wake, wishing she would while fearing the same. If she woke she might start fighting with him again and make the situation even more unbearable. Instead she turned slightly and seemed to settle back to sleep.

Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, he felt his heart rate begin to decrease slightly. He had a little time to try to make a decision, a logical decision, devoid of sentiment or emotion. A decision which would mean their relationship wouldn't degenerate any further than it already had.

It was hard to be logical. All his instincts were urging him to take Soi and hold her in his arms but then if she fought out of his embrace, it was essential he let her go and she would hate him even more for touching her.

Then it struck him. Why was she here? Why was she sleeping in his bed? How had she gained entry... Silly question given her divisions' special abilities. She was here, in his bed. Last time they'd talked they'd said bitter words. Even being generous most of the bitterness had been from Soi and he still had trouble understanding why her reactions to his offer of marriage had been so strongly negative. The idea that marriage was a way to own a woman was new to him? Who thought that? He didn't want to own anyone and didn't see how it was possible to do so unless you reduced them to the role of a slave. He didn't see Soi accepting that position in any situation.

Why was she anti-marriage?

Why did he want to marry her?

He hadn't even questioned that. Did he want to marry Soi?

Suddenly he felt a chill. If he searched through his room for clean clothes, he might wake Soi. If he was going to wake Soi, he may as well get into the bed and have some physical contact, or at least get close enough to feel her warmth.

Instead of thinking it through any further, he rose and walked toward the bed. Fleeting wisps of fear urged him this may be a mistake, but he ignored them. How could the situation between them be any worse than it already was? She had already told him they were nothing to each other, or words to that effect. If she reacted badly how was that different to the other times she'd barely tolerated him?

Lifting the sheet, he slid under it as quietly and with as little disturbance as he could possibly manage. Managing to lie down, he lay there for a few minutes, trying to steady his breathing and keep as silent as possible. He could smell the soap she used and feel some slight radiance of her warmth. Shutting his eyes, he breathed, inhaling her scent, trying to feel her warmth and presence. The shallow breathing made it harder for him to relax, but breathing any deeper would make noise and might coax him into sleeping.

He was tired. After a night of drinking and the emotional turmoil which preceded it,   the illness he'd experienced he was almost ready to fall asleep and let the Seireitei take care of itself for the day. He'd had little time to himself and every day brought demands which often annoyed or perplexed him. Matsumoto wasn't there to help and no one else seemed prepared to help him with the paperwork. Or perhaps it was because he didn't want to admit help was required.

It was time to change. To stop micro-managing every aspect of his division and share the responsibility. His pride and fear of others judging him for relying on others had prevented him from delegating most of the work, but it was becoming clear that not everything needed his input. Slowly he began to go through his subordinates who might rise to the challenge of extra work. It became harder to think and his eyelids felt heavy.

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Toshiro wasn't in his quarters when he arrived but it was little trouble for her to gain entry. Once inside she dried off quickly and feeling cold, decided to get into the bed. She was tired and her emotions were too difficult to disentangle. Even though she was pleased to finally have an excuse to rid herself of Oedema, the encounter had upset her slightly. His lack of respect both shocked and disgusted her. Her feelings for Toshiro occasionally made sense but if she though too much about it at present she might leave and the problems they had might never be resolved.

She had to calm down. She wanted to be lucid and rational when Toshiro returned. She would avoid the worst of the reactions the emotions dictated and clearly explain... explain what? She was certain they needed to reconcile, to some extent but what did she really want? Her mind was too cloudy. She needed to focus as much as she could. If she tried meditation it might help to calm the worst of the feelings and allow her to focus on those which were most disconcerting and address them. Closing her eyes, the fatigue became more pronounced. Attempting to maintain the focus required for meditation was difficult. She would rest for a few moments and then try again.

'Was that the door?' she thought as she started awake, then realising the meditation had failed as she'd fallen asleep. The rustle of fabric indicated someone had entered Toshiro's quarters and she tried to pretend she was asleep while attempting to identify the intruder. It was Toshiro, who seemed to notice her presence as he quickly grabbed his zanpakuto. Lying still she watched as his face became puzzled as he placed the blade near the door.

Instead of trying to wake her or join her in the bed, he sat on a chair and appeared to watch her. She had no idea of the time but her weariness forced her eyes shut and while striving to stay awake, she once more fell into a deep sleep.

Upon awakening again, once more the situation had changed. Toshiro was in the bed, but keeping far away from her. He appeared to be asleep and she was cold.

If she moved closer to him, it might be warmer and while he was asleep he might not notice. After everything that had happened in the last day she wanted to be close to someone.

Instead of listening to her need for being close to Toshiro, she tried to meditate. Being close to Toshiro made it difficult. Clearing her mind again she tried to clearly see what she really wanted. Nothing was clear. Her need to be self sufficient was very strong. Trusting another person: not easy. Then she froze. While she was trying to clear her mind, she had unconsciously moving closer to Toshiro and now she could clearly feel the warmth radiating from his body. Did she want to stay close to him or move away? She lay there, unable to make a decision or refusing to make a decision as too often in the recent past, once a decision was made she might regret it.

Hell. There was so much to regret already. If she didn't get close to him now, it would be another regret. She placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

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The light seemed different. It was possible he'd drifted off to sleep for a few seconds and he was at home but something seemed different. There was a weight on his chest which hadn't been there previously. Not like a rock, or a cat and for some reason it seemed familiar and something he'd wanted in some sense.

Tentatively reaching toward the source of the weight and the warmth he encountered a known silkiness which he remembered twining through his fingers and under that the delicate skin of Soi's cheek. Immediately he froze, terrified of waking her and the physical contact being broken. He must have slept and while he was sleeping, she had moved and now lay on his chest. Lying as still as he could he soon realised he needed to breathe and tried to draw in a breath as surreptitiously as he could. Then he noticed his fingers were still touching Soi's face. Slowly he removed them and shook when a voice spoke.

"Don't say anything. Not one word. I am not really here, nor are you."

What did she mean? They were both there.

"But..." he began.

"Not one word, Toshiro. Words are the major problem with us. When either of us talk to each other we make mistakes," Soi said and he felt the vibration of her voice through his chest.

He was confused. Soi was in his bed in close physical proximity and he wasn't permitted to speak. In some ways he could see her point about talking causing most of the problems between the two of them, but how were they meant to communicate if they didn't speak? Sign language? Humming? Mental telepathy?

Suddenly he didn't care what happened and clasped both arms around her. She had instructed him not to speak but she hadn't restricted any actions on his behalf.

To his shock, Soi gave a satisfied sigh and nestled into his arms as if she actually wanted to be there. What was going on? It made so little sense to him but for a brief moment he suppressed the need to question in light of the happiness he was experiencing. They were in bed, hugging during a workday. After their conversation the day before this state of affairs had seemed unlikely. More like impossible.

Minutes passed and he simply waited until something disastrous happened. Maybe they would be found together due to some urgent summons and that would break the impasse that appeared to have developed. Soi might just leave without an explanation of what was happening. Was anything happening?

Further time passed and a slight touch of anxiety beset him. Someone had to speak or they would simply lay there. His left calf was itchy and he wanted to scratch it but to do so would break the moment. At this point Soi pulled away from him and lay on her back, the sheet pulled over her chest. As surreptitiously as he could, he scratched the itch and then lay quietly, hoping she would say something before anxiety led him to say something which might quench the flame of hope he was feeling.

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A.N.

Maybe keeping silent might work. This chapter has been waiting for an edit which finally happened.
Soundtrack

'Getting Nowhere' Magnetic Man Featuring John Legend

'Touch' Daft Punk Featuring Paul Williams

Go To Sleep (Little Man Being Erased) Radiohead

'Definition' Phillip Glass from Naqoyqatsi

'Skinny Love' Birdy

Review. Sometimes they amuse.
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For The Love of a Friend