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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
… Little bit of…

There is, Ichigo decides one fine January morning, something undoubtedly off about the way Toshiro has been acting as of late. Last night being but the tip of an iceberg the redhead's more than determined to disclose in its entirety.

December 3rd
They're lying flat on their bellies in Ichigo's room, two sudoku magazines spread out on the bed between them. Both boys are scribbling relentlessly to fill up the empty squares, their brains working on the same simple sequences of numbers over and over, almost hard enough to make noise. So far Toshiro is winning, but the med student knows better than to give up hopes – if for no other reason than the afterward teasing would be a hell lot worse should he retire instead of, as Toshiro calls it, losing honourably. Stay focused, Ichigo reminds himself. Just stay focused and ignore how bloody fast his pen is writing. Numbers always liked you. You like them back. If you stay focused, everything… –
Renji's sudden cry of ecstasy disrupts his hard mental training, hence all of his chances to get the upper hand, in the blink of an eye. "HA, I DID IT! I knew I would! Berry, midget, say hello to the new champion of public order in town!" The pineapple head leaps up and stares at his mates expectantly, pointing at himself with his thumbs.
Ichigo sneaks him but a sidelong glance. The idiot's practically glowing.
"Page fourteen done with. How many to go before you finally admit to your inferiority, Kurosaki?"
"Bite me, snowy-head! I just got distracted."
"There's only so much you can blame on others without coming across as a pathetic brat, you know."
"Tch, you'd sure know all 'bout pathetic brats, wouldn't ya?"
"GUYS!" Renji reaches most obviously his breaking point. "Hello? Earth to motherfuckers? Can you hear me?" When neither of his friends bother to acknowledge him, the former engineer props back down on his seat, huffing ever so irritably. "Oh, fuck off, seriously. Who the hell cares anyway? I got Byakuya to show me his support!"
Ichigo and Toshiro exchange a knowing glance, wordlessly agreeing to call it quits – or at least switch to a different kind of psychological torture. "Is it Byakuya now?" The latter inquires, an eyebrow shooting up in mock bewilderment.
The carrot-top wastes little time putting the boot in. "Exactly how's he being supportive, Renji? Up against the wall or on all fours?"
Renji barely raises his middle finger, refusing to avert his gaze from the laptop screen. "Like you're one to tease, ya fucker! Has Inoue been able to walk again after your last visit?" No sooner have the words been let out of his mouth than a loud ping! resounds. Renji leans out to take a closer look at the monitor. "Oh, guess what? She's just sent you an e-mail."
Ichigo finds himself going rigid at the mere mention of the female pronoun. "Mind your sodding business. And that was totally uncalled for, y'know."
Here's when the med student notices the faint yet audible scraping of Toshiro's pen against the sheet has quieted down. Taken aback as well as cautiously triumphant – might be my chance to overturn the situation – he drifts his gaze to stare at the white-haired boy, whose brow is currently knitted in concentration. Either he's taking that little sudoku challenge of theirs more seriously than he should, or…
"Ye mean she was not calling out for you while you two were going at it? I guess hard means no good, then." Renji grins and proceeds to check his roommate's mailbox regardless. "Now, let's see how's she doing all by herself in Europe… I still think you shoulda gone with her, y'know? What kind of sucker leaves his girlfriend to travel overseas all alone?"
This time Ichigo hears it clearly, the slight hitch in Toshiro's breath. Sure the boy barely lifts his gaze from the magazine before him, but his cool act is not enough to cover up for the bitterness in his voice as he ventures: "Girlfriend?"
"She's not – Inoue's not – don't you fucking dare go through my mail like that! Oi, Renji!"
"No need to get yer panties in a wad, she just says she misses you and that big, hard, hot rod of yours – " A disgracefully unmanly yelp slips past Renji's lips as a well-aimed, surprisingly sharp pen hits him on the forehead. "Ouch! The hell, mate? !"
Toshiro's tone is cold and collected, clashing curiously with the growing agitation Ichigo feels fluttering in his stomach. "You slept with Inoue?"
The carrot-top shifts to sit up cross-legged on the bed. "Jus'… once or twice, before she left. Doesn't make us a couple or anything."
From his conveniently neutral-zone-placed position at the desk, Renji pipes up. "Did you make sure she knew that much? The girl seems pretty attached. Or, well, whipped."
"For the fucking last time, Renji, butt outta my stuff." Ichigo growls, all the while looking around for something heavier than a pen to toss his roommate's way. "And who the hell d'you take me for? I'd never hurt Inoue like that." His tone changes from venomous to sheepish in a trice as the pressure of teal blue eyes watching him intently becomes increasingly harder to bear. Damn, what's he staring at? "She said she was fine with staying just friends."
"Friends with benefits, more like." The police newbie somehow manages to snort and beam at the same time. "Well, cheers mate! You've found yourself quite a nice, dare I say?, notch for that crammed bedpost of yours!"
Ichigo lashes out at his friend to exorcise the humiliating sensation of scorching heat to his cheeks. "You're a pig. No wonder Rukia dumped your sorry ass on your second date."
"You swore you'd never bring this up again! You swore, Berry!"
"Yeah, well, never trust a redhead's discretion!"
Renji is too wrapped up in their little tiff to notice Toshiro excusing himself and dashing out of the room, only to walk back in soon after with a straight façade draped over his stern features.
Ichigo, however, is not.

December 11th
It's a Saturday night and they've all agreed to go watch a movie, albeit what movie to choose has been a pregnant topic to argue endlessly over. Girls eventually win, meaning they're all going for some horror film both Izuru and Renji will be having nightmares about for god knows how many weeks.
So far, Ichigo has been enjoying himself – always fun to have one more reason to make his roommate's life a living hell, and the movie's not bad either. He's bringing a handful of pop-corns to his mouth, a pleased grin plastered over his face (Renji's bitchy cry "I don't get it! Why would we actually want to scare oursel – NRUAGH! Bloody fuck, where'd that come from?" sounds positively delightful to his ears) when a light pressure on his right thigh startles him.
The carrot-top casts Toshiro a quick look. The silver-haired shorty is sitting next to him with a most serene, bordering on bored-outta-my-skull expression, seemingly unaware of his own hand's predicament. Deciding he doesn't mind the casual touch Ichigo just shrugs it off and turns his focus back to the giant screen.
Several minutes pass before the stranger hand is removed. Being engrossed in the movie, the med student vaguely registers a sudden rush of cold to his thigh but doesn't stop to ponder over the change. When in a few moments Toshiro pokes him on his knee again, though, he does feel it – a pleasant warmth radiating from that small palm to his denim-clad thigh. Yet twice in a row is a little odd, Ichigo considers, especially since Toshiro has made no move to acknowledge his own action. Maybe he needs prompting to speak? Upon briefly dwelling on the option in his head, Ichigo leans over to murmur in the boy's ear. "Something the matter?"
Toshiro distinctively shivers, most likely out of cold (even if it's comfortably hot in the theatre). "Huh?" He mumbles in a slightly dazed tone.
Some prodigy. Rolling his eyes, Ichigo resorts to eloquently jolting his right leg, causing his knee to bump up into the other bloke's hand.
The reaction comes instantly. Toshiro yelps and jerks his arm away as though it got burnt. "That's – sorry! Thought it was – didn't think it was…"
Ichigo hadn't meant for his friend to throw a tantrum over such a trivial matter. Frowning, the would-be doctor tries to reassure Toshiro. "Hey, it's okay. Got no touching issues." Then, judging it wise to give a practical demonstration, he winds an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders, pulling him a little closer against his chest. Ichigo grins matter-of-factly. "See?"
"Please, get off me."
What the hell?
Ichigo can only stare agape and mutely obey, actually concerned about the abrupt, sharp stiffening of his friend's thin form. Toshiro's jaw only unclenches once they're both properly seated and at a reasonable distance from one another.
And it's not like Ichigo isn't dying to question such a peculiar behaviour. But there's an aura of, of – something he cannot quite put his finger on, so heavy and gloomy and dark all of a sudden – he feels too scared to ask. Toshiro is glancing straight in front of him, looking much willing to carve a hole in the ground and disappear there and then (or at least, to forget everything and pretend like nothing out of the ordinary has just happened). Albeit begrudgingly, Ichigo decides he will respect this.
Too bad he can't manage to focus on the sodding movie for the rest of the night after that.

January 9th
"What the – ?"
Ichigo can't help but beam in excitement. His plan has worked out so smoothly it's hardly believable. Everybody's done their part extraordinarily well, considering some of the subjects in charge, namely Renji and Matsumoto, happen to be disgracefully low on his Reliable Ones list. "Keep your knickers on, we're done with blind walking for today." True to his words, Ichigo tosses aside the blindfold he'd previously wound around Toshiro's head.
They're standing in the guys' tiny dining room, an opulent table laid out before them. Glancing sideways to monitor Toshiro's reactions, Ichigo crosses his arms to his chest and speaks up with a tone of finality. "So. This should fit you nicely, given how you were moaning about wanting to go home all afternoon." The redhead rolls his eyes. "You managed to drive even Izuru up the wall. Bloody congrats."
"What's this?"
Toshiro's voice cracks toward the end with what Ichigo assumes would be overwhelming emotion. "This is, most obviously, my way of saying sorry for missing your birthday party. Heard it was great, by the way." He adds conversationally, then bites his tongue at the flabbergasted expression on the smaller boy's pale face. "It's just, you looked pretty upset last time we talked about this, so I felt like making it up to you."
The soccer team captain takes a deep lungful of air, his eyes never drifting from the table. Ichigo can tell he's feeling particularly nervous about the lit up candle at the centre – while it's clearly not, well, it's nowhere close to romantic, it's not supposed to be… – that igloo-shaped candle is just Ichigo's present, which he picked seeing as Toshiro seems to like winter so much. The snowy head wraps his arms protectively around his middle, before cautiously uttering: "You made me dinner?"
The carrot-top snorts a quiet chuckle. "Hey, I'm eighteen. The hell I know about cooking?" Stepping forward into the room, Ichigo approaches the table and lifts one of the dome-like steel lids he'd set to cover the dishes. A plate of gyozas is revealed. "Thai food. I recall you saying you love it."
Toshiro looks positively entranced for a moment. "I do. That's…"
Grinning like mad, Ichigo braces himself for the sweet words of gratitude that surely are –
"You're an idiot."
"What?" Needless to say the redhead's face falls. Hard. "Is this how you – oi! Where the fuck d'you think you're going?"
The athlete doesn't even bother to stop his pacing. "My room. I'm not feeling hungry."
Except he's not going far. Like fuck! "Toshiro!" Ichigo's arm shoots to grab the shorty's shoulder, brusquely spinning him around for the sake of eye contact. The med student is stricken all the more by the utmost sadness reflected in those teal blue pits. "What's wrong? If I've screwed up just say so, but don't turn tail on me!"
Here's when the most unbelievable of all things unbelievable occurs. Toshiro shudders under his touch and, before Ichigo can realize it, he finds himself with an armful of white-haired kid. This is by far the most affectionate Toshiro has ever been with, well, anyone in probably forever, so he makes sure to treasure the moment and store the memory for future reference.
Just as Ichigo takes to patting his friend's head mockingly, the boy lifts his chin enough to mumble in the redhead's shirt. "I told you before. You don't have to be kind to people. They won't appreciate it."
So this is him being unappreciative, uh? Ichigo can't help but grin at the obvious contradiction. Then again, play it cool is kind of Toshiro's credo, so his cynical remarks about gratitude and displays of affection should come as no surprise. "Why, I like you and want you to be happy. Simple as that, really."
They pull apart soon after and finally set to enjoy their private surprise party. Momo and the others join them after dinner: they spend the rest of the evening together and Ichigo takes Rukia up on the offer to stay the night, given how Renji has dumped him sans car to go out on a date with a mysterious somebody (which will not stay mysterious for long, if Matsumoto's crusading smirk is anything to go by). It's all fun and comfortable and the thai food tastes great, that's why Ichigo just cannot find a single reason why Toshiro has looked so bloody down all night.

There is, Ichigo decides one fine, very early January morning (so early in fact the sun's yet to rise), something undoubtedly off about the way Toshiro has been acting as of late.
He's thrashing and turning on the makeshift guest bed – formerly known as the couch – seeming unable to get any sleep no matter how firmly he wills himself to relax, when the living room door cracks open.
Toshiro's steps are unmistakable to a close listener: too light for a man yet not half as gracious as a girl's, and, currently, wobbly and unsteady due to all those Penacarada drinks they had at dinner. Instantly fully awake, Ichigo sits up, dreading to be caught off guard in case his white-haired friend was in the mood for some wicked prank. He waits until the slim silhouette is standing right behind the sofa to make his state of awareness known. "Whazzup?"
A sharp intake of breath reveals Toshiro had not been expecting the other boy to be awake. Ichigo hears him shift, take some uncertain steps and finally prop down on his knees at the foot of the bed. His breathing, the carrot-top notices soon after, is laboured and none too regular, like he's going through some kind of pain or distress. Ichigo frowns in concern. He's just about to inquire after Toshiro's state, when –
"I think I'm in love with you."
– all words die in his throat.
Well, shit.

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- 6
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- 8
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Happy Ending