Title: A Fear of Falling

Warning: Language, sexual situations, copious amounts of angst.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Authorial Notice:

I promised some people I would have this out in a few weeks, but weeks turned to months and so on. I'm so sorry for the wait! Here's the final chapter.

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Chapter Six

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Something was wrong.

Ichigo stood motionless in the door to his first class, left to blink at the figure of his brother and their teacher speaking civilly beside her desk. It was such a strange scene, he half thought he should back himself out the door.

What the hell was going on?

It wasn't unusual for Ichigo to be early, but he'd never seen his brother arrive at school before him. With him? Yes. But before and alone, without as much as a word of explanation? Never. That would imply his brother actually gave a damn.

Shiro reached out and Ochi-sensei laid a manila folder in his hand, a small smile moving across the instructor's face. Approval.

Another singularity.

Was this about his test scores…?

He shifted his weight, hovering partway in the threshold, unsure whether it was alright to interrupt or not. Their voices weren't carrying. No one else was in the classroom. It made the meeting seem like a private thing, but his surprise kept him from attempting to be subtle while he stared at his brother.

Something was wrong. He would've known if his brother had a meeting. Shiro would have said something.

Yet, he couldn't deny what he saw.

They'd been so off lately. As if they'd suddenly become incompatible. He couldn't help but think that was what Shiro wanted. His twin went out of his way to avoid even being in the same room. There was such a thick air of discord. It had Ichigo on edge, ready to snap at anyone that wasn't his brother— if only because he didn't think their relationship couldn't weather any more slips.

Shiro turned to leave, but paused at the sight of Ichigo. Though the hesitation was so brief, Ichigo thought he could've just imagined it.

He moved a step further into view when his brother stopped in front of him. Amber eyes cut to their teacher then back to the figure in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

His twin snorted. "I go ta school here."

"I mean with the teacher, dumbass."

"Uh..." He looked down at the folder tucked in his hand and blinked. "Make up work." A shoulder shrugged. "From all those classes I skipped."

Makeup work? "Are you kidding?"

Shiro's eyes shot back to his, but Ichigo was already giving a scoffed half-laugh.

"You're trying to further yourself academically? Since when?"

Shiro hated school. He always had.

Shiro grimaced. "Guess they figured out about the smart thing. Now, I gotta act like it or somethin'."

Ichigo stared at him. Waited for the joke.

Only it didn't come, and after a moment, he realized the silence had gotten oppressive. For once, he couldn't read his twin. At all. It might as well have been anyone standing in front of him. He sobered, taking Shiro in, mystified and a little off-balance. "You're serious."

There was a huff from his brother, miffed gold eyes touching his only for a second before they found something more interesting somewhere else. And if Ichigo didn't know better, he'd swear that was embarrassment. What was happening here?

Ichigo blinked.

But...

But if Shiro was trying something new… he was proud of him. Enough that he wasn't sure how to tell him so without sounding condescending.

"I—" he started, but he wasn't even sure what he'd intended to say. Ichigo mentally shook himself, watching the teacher take his desk over his twin's shoulder. "I mean... it's— That's a good thing."

"Ichigo."

Ichigo turned his head to find Chad the same moment his emotions decided to break through his clouded brain, and he flashed a grin as he took in his oldest friend. Or the oldest that wasn't related to him. Ichigo turned back to say something else to Shiro, but his brother brushed past him so hard, it knocked the expression from Ichigo's lips and a curse followed.

He frowned at the back of his brother's head.

"Shi…?"

No answer.

Shiro stalked down the hall with enough vehemence that a path opened and then swallowed him from sight after he'd passed through.

Ichigo stared until his brother was gone, unable to shake the sensation that yet another tether had just frayed and snapped between them. What was happening? Something was wrong. Something that wasn't mending itself like it usually did.

He blinked, turning his head numbly when Chad's hand found his shoulder.

He let his feet drag him to his desk.

-o-

Class droned on. Ichigo sat, chin resting on his palm, facing the window and watching the maintenance crew butcher the lawn on the practice field. Even after reflecting most of the morning, he still couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that had him on edge about his brother's meeting.

Shiro had always been prone to the unexpected. Practically breathed it. A sudden interest in schoolwork shouldn't warrant this level of dread. Except, he knew his brother. Shiro was sneaking around. Ichigo just couldn't figure out why. There were so many possibilities. Maybe, he'd been telling the truth. Maybe, he had gotten an earful for skipping so many classes.

But since when did a lecture from a teacher— any teacher— give his twin pause?

They could stop him from graduating. If so, he could understand why Shiro wouldn't have wanted to tell him.

Ichigo closed his eyes, feeling his brow furrow until he had to reach up to scrub the tension away.

No. It wasn't even just the schoolwork. Something was off.

He hated it. Whatever it was.

He lifted his head and went back to staring out the window, jaw tight. Behind him Keigo nudged the back of his chair with a foot, but Ichigo ignored it. He wasn't up for any sort of interaction that might require patience on his part.

The foot nudged again and his fist clenched.

"Kurosaki!"

His head shot up, gaze jerking toward the front of the classroom through twenty pairs of eyes. Ochi-sensei stood at the front, a slip of paper dangling from her thumb and index finger. The door was open and an office aide leaned inside to see what was happening.

"The counselor is asking for you, Kurosaki. And since I've failed utterly to interest you the past hour, you might as well go now."

Ichigo stood, only a slight heat creeping up the back of his neck, and took the slip. He glanced at it as he stepped into the hall and slid the door shut behind him. There wasn't any information on it besides his name and the time and date. He would've asked, but the office aide had already retreated halfway up the hall.

Which figured. Not many people that didn't know him would want to be alone with him. He'd always had a reputation.

There was a brief moment where he wondered if it was yet another problem involving his brother, but the notion was dismissed. If they had an issue with Shiro, there was no way they'd bring him into it. He'd once heard an instructor say the only thing worse than one Kurosaki was two.

As irritating as the statement had been, they weren't wrong.

He took the stairs down to the first floor, ignoring looks as he stepped into the office. The door on the far wall was open and the secretary ushered him in after taking his slip. For a moment, the irrational fear that she might know about him and his twin rose up and swallowed him.

He sat in the usual threadbare, geometrically patterned, brown chair and waited to be acknowledged. There was a thick stack of folders on the edge of the desk with names typed on the tabs. It didn't take long before the counselor found the file she was looking for and opened it. It was his. He could tell because it was worn and thick, the binding coming apart on one end and the tab had been highlighted in red. His brother's was in the stack as well and he furrowed his brow.

She sat his down with the light thump and Ichigo's eyes went back to her.

"Kurosaki-san, I called you in to talk about your plans after graduation. I understand you had been intending to attend university."

Not Shiro. His mind switched gears, not that this was much better.

A frustrated sound moved up his throat and he had to swallow it back. "Yes. I know. I'll have the applications sent soon. I'm just having trouble deciding—"

"Kurosaki-san…" She seemed startled then shook her head. To her credit, she looked regretful, but in a way that made dread slip down his spine and curl like writhing serpents in his gut. "The deadline was the end of last week. The window for applying is closed. You certainly knew that."

Closed.

No.

He stared at her, wasn't even sure he blinked.

No. He still had time. He'd hardly even thought of anything else the past six months. There was a mistake. Ichigo fished for dates inside his mind, counting days. He needed a calendar. He needed to—

She must've seen his shock. She leaned across the desk and handed him the flyer they'd all received the day the University reps came. The date stamped in large print. Passed. Last week. Like she had said.

It wrinkled in his hand.

Ichigo swallowed, his heart too loud in his ears.

How could he have missed it? He'd been killing himself over it. Besides his fucked up relationship with his brother, it'd been the only thing on his mind.

Boneless, his weight dragged him lower in the chair.

Her next words were softer.

"My question was if you would like to be enrolled in the job placement program."

Job…

He blinked at her. "What?"

How was she so fucking calm? His life was falling apart.

"They help students find cooperate positions, there's future financial planning. They could point you in the right direction for a career."

"No."

It was harsher than he'd intended.

She stopped, frowned, but waited on him to gather up his shattered expectations of the future. "I can see that you're disappointed."

But it wasn't her job to coddle him. She didn't say it.

He pulled his eyes from his file, little more than blurting, "What about next term? I could send them in now. Get a head start. Or I could apply next year."

But even then, his friends would all have moved on. They'd be an entire year ahead of him. It'd be humiliating, but better than—

She held up a hand, stalling his desperate attempt to salvage something. Anything.

His chest was so tight it felt like it was crushing the air from his lungs.

"That's an option. But I'd like for you to consider the fact that there are many other students that elected a school and filled out their applications on time. It's competitive for a reason, Kurosaki. The administrators look at those things. Perhaps, if you wrote a letter when you applied. It could help your case, but… even then. You would be behind, if you were able to enroll at all. I truly think you should consider the program. It's a good opportunity. There's no shame in going straight to work. Most students do exactly that."

How many times had she given this speech? It seemed so practiced and reasonable.

He nodded without meaning to. Reached out to take more papers

And then, he was walking out. Through the corridor. He made it halfway back to his class before he stopped and his back hit the wall, eyes closing as whatever had been holding him together gave out. A hand came up to anchor in orange bangs. He slid down to the floor, feeling the scrape of brick against his back.

He didn't care.

How could he have screwed it all up so badly? Let everyone down. Oyaji. Shiro. His friends. Even his sisters. Fuck, he'd let himself down. How would he tell them? And Shiro, he could've gone anywhere. But instead, he'd sat around. He'd trusted Ichigo to pick.

He was nauseous. Couldn't rely on himself to stand without being sick.

He didn't know how long he was there, but at some point, someone came along and touched his shoulder, uttering words of concern or questions. He couldn't say. He didn't look up and they went away.

It was the bell that forced him to move. It rang loud from a few meters down the hall and he shoved himself to his feet. Staying would only force more interaction he was in no state to handle. He didn't go back to class. He cut down the school's older halls to the exit on the far side and left. He didn't stop until he was falling into his bed at home.

Oyaji came in an hour later, jubilant at catching his son in an act of teen rebellion, until his overly loud commentary failed to garner a response. He quieted after that, asking Ichigo if he was sick or if something had happened before he finally left him alone as well. He had patients after all. No time to pry.

Ichigo thought he might've fallen asleep, but the soft sound of a bag hitting the floor by his bed found his ears and he turned his head.

Shiro was already walking away.

"Where are you going?"

His twin paused, not turning. "Look like ya want space."

He didn't wait for a response. He left.

Ichigo couldn't do anything but stare at where he'd been.

It made sense.

Shiro had been to the counselor too. Why would he want to be around the person that had ruined his future?

-o-

Oyaji stopped asking about colleges. Ichigo had a suspicion he knew.

In a way, he was relieved. Ichigo couldn't bring himself to say anything.

Yuzu had asked about it a few times, but after Oyaji had shushed her at dinner one night, she hadn't questioned him since. Even Karin threw her share of pitying looks. For an entire week, he somehow managed not to look any of them in the face. Though, he tried to avoid everyone altogether when he could.

School came and went. The final rounds of testing had finished. The last several days contained little more than busy work. He spent most of it with his friends, getting in the last few hours of time they had together before it was over and they split up. He avoided the truth as much as possible before having to admit he wouldn't be continuing school.

Ichigo let them draw their own conclusions.

He knew Ishida, at least, blamed it on his brother. They'd never gotten along. He couldn't speak for anyone else.

He and Shiro weren't talking. The scant hours he managed to stop berating himself for wrecking his schooling, he used for castigating himself about his brother instead.

And Shiro… Shiro seemed fine. Better than fine. Except that he seemed as eager to dodge Ichigo as Ichigo was to evade everyone else. It was eerie. Like stepping into a strange parody of life, where his brother was the normal one and he was the outsider.

His twin spent time with their sisters. Even helped in the clinic. Ran errands. Washed laundry.

For once, Ichigo couldn't find clothes, because he hadn't been the one to put things away. Part of him suspected Shiro didn't like doing it as much as he pretended, and he was secretly stowing it all somewhere. But Ichigo didn't care enough to look.

There was only a day until graduation.

He hated it. The finality. But hating it didn't change anything.

He forced himself down to the living room to spend time with the rest of his family. Wandering in like a stray.

Yuzu was at the table with Oyaji. The old man was loud as ever, showing her clinic paperwork so she could sort the filing over their short break. Karin and Shiro played poker on the other side of the room. Shiro was too busy glaring murder at his hand to look up, but when Karin did, Shiro drew a small handful of extra cards.

Ichigo scowled at his twin's pale head before dropping down to the couch.

Karin raised a brow. "So you do remember where the living room is. I was about to have Yuzu go up and poke you with a stick to make sure you were still alive."

He returned the comment with a sour glance and picked up the remote, flipping the television on. There was nothing good. A show he hated. A comedy. Some infomercials. He wasn't feeling up to the news, so he clicked back to the comedy. It wasn't great, but it distracted him well enough from the sounds of bickering in the corner and Oyaji and Yuzu searching for a bill.

"Maybe it's in the clinic."

He tilted his head around his sister as she walked in front of him.

The comedy broke into a sex scene and he cursed, flipping the channel again. Uncomfortable.

Then Yuzu screamed from the clinic.

Four heads jerked toward the sound and he was halfway out of his seat when she came back in the door.

"What the hell, you scared the—"

"You got a letter."

She glowed, breathless and rushed, clutching a stack of mail to her chest as she held it out.

He frowned, but she forced him to take it before he could think of why that would cause such a fuss.

"Sorry, I opened it." She practically bounced on her toes.

He pressed his lips and gave her a look for the invasion, but flicked his gaze back to the papers in his hand. Only, he stopped breathing when he saw the letterhead. Why would a university send him a letter? He hadn't written any of schools yet. He'd been too busy sulking. Had the counsellor—

He didn't even get any farther than the heading before she shoved more into his hands.

Ichigo started, holding them out and trying not to drop them. Tokyo. Osaka. Tokyo again. Kyushu. Hiroshima. "What—"

"Read it," she insisted, pulling the original letter from his hands and waving it in his face.

Ichigo blinked. It was as if she'd suddenly learned another language and he needed a translator. His eyes scanned the top lines of the unfolded paper.

On behalf of the staff and faculty of Tokyo University, is our pleasure to inform you that you have been admitted to the class of...

Admitted. But Ichigo hadn't filled out the paperwork. The applications. None of it, he'd—

He stopped. Froze. Couldn't breathe. Everything clicked. He turned to look at Shiro.

There was a strange sound in his throat as he remembered he needed air to speak. His mouth was dry.

"You… sent the applications out."

Shiro shrugged and offered a smirk. "Someone had to."

Isshin stood.

"Seems like a good time to celebrate." He was calm for once. Or at first anyway. A large hand clapped Ichigo on the back solid enough that he nearly dropped everything, but he didn't really feel it.

He was going to college. His life wasn't over.

The room was a daze as his family congratulated him.

How many times had he thought to himself that Shiro was far too intelligent for any of them to keep up with? He'd planned this. Had filled the papers out weeks— maybe more— in advance. He'd known Ichigo wouldn't do it. That they'd both—

He stopped, eyes dropping to the names on the letters as he flipped back through them.

"But where are yours? You did remember to—"

Yuzu seemed to realize that was her cue and threw up her arms before Ichigo could even finish.

"Shiro-nii got his too!"

She practically danced them over to him, an apologetic look in her eyes in case she'd made him worry.

Though in that telling slip, Ichigo realized how much he must've had them worried. So much that Yuzu had brought them to him first without even thinking of Shiro. He knew he'd been unresponsive in the past few weeks. But he felt ashamed that he'd pulled into himself so far that he hadn't cared how concerned he'd left his family.

Was that why Shiro had been compensating? For him?

He watched his twin gather cards. Seeing someone different.

Ichigo had thought he knew him. But maybe no one did. It was unsettling. He'd spent so long thinking of his twin as his other half, he'd forgotten that Shiro was a person all on his own.

Isshin lifted Yuzu onto his back and spun her in a circle. "This means a big dinner!"

Karin followed, yelling at them to stop before they got hurt, but Isshin took off, flying her squealing twin up the stairs.

Shiro stood, tried not to look across the room.

Ichigo's voice followed him anyway. "You did this."

Shiro tossed the cards in a drawer.

"You had alot goin' on. Figured it'd give ya more time ta pick."

Ichigo's arms wrapped around him from behind. It left him shuddering at the warm contact.

So fucking much had happened. He'd half expected Ichigo would never want to touch him again.

His brother's arms tightened, and Shiro's eyes closed, teeth locking. He reached up, one pale hand finding Ichigo's wrist in a tight grip, air huffing from his lungs. It was agony. Wanting this so much. Having it. Not having it. It all blurred anymore.

His brow furrowed and he snarled silently at all the things meant to stay forever beyond his reach as he pulled free of the hold.

"We should get ready."

Ichigo's arms tightened, but he released anyway. Let his brother go if that was what he wanted.

"Shi."

He didn't answer. Didn't want to talk. Didn't want to do this. Didn't trust himself.

He took the stairs, leaving Ichigo behind.

-o-

When Ichigo's breathing evened out, he slid from the bed and pulled a change of clothes from under his pillow.

Shiro took his time, making sure his brother was asleep before slipping out. He changed in the bathroom then went and pulled his packed suitcase from where he'd hidden it behind a shelf in the storage room. He took the manila folder out of the side pocket and laid it on the counter, going through his paperwork to make sure everything was there one last time before taking out his train pass and packing it up again. If it wasn't right, he wouldn't get another chance to come back and fix it.

Ichigo had spent the entire night throwing glances at Shiro. As if he were some new and unfathomable creature. As if he had transformed overnight.

He hadn't.

It took a considerable amount of effort to ignore those looks. But it was what Ichigo had wanted. A normal relationship. And if it killed him, Shiro could give him that. At least, for a few hours. But it was over now. Shiro would be gone and it wouldn't matter anymore.

The paperwork had been filed with the college. He'd gotten his transcripts and been granted early admittance into his dorm. He would disappear.

It would be best for everyone that way.

Ichigo had been so relieved at getting his future back. He'd stopped questioning. Not why Shiro had taken a sudden interest in university. Not which schools had responded to him or which hadn't. He hadn't noticed that Shiro had received one more letter than he had.

Soon, Shiro would be heading off to his own school. Some place far away where Ichigo wouldn't think to look for him. Because to his knowledge, Shiro hadn't even applied there.

It was so startlingly easy to deceive his family. It would've given him chills if he gave a shit anymore.

He didn't.

It'd be hard, but he didn't care about hard either.

Tearing a piece of notepaper from the pad on the refrigerator, he wrote a number on it and folded it carefully.

Ichigo would question Oyaji relentlessly about his whereabouts. There was no way Ichigo would believe Isshin didn't know where his other son had gone. But that part would be genuine enough, since Shiro only planned to tell one person. He needed contact. Had to be able to know at least on some level that Ichigo was safe and alive, and he couldn't think of any other way.

He gathered up the folded paper and his things, setting his suitcase down to slide the phone number into one of Karin's cleats before unlatching the door to slip out.

"What are you doing?"

Shiro jumped, closed his eyes and almost cursed before turning back to see his brother.

Ichigo had paused rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand and it stayed frozen in the air where he'd forgotten it. He looked at Shiro then to his bags as if one plus one no longer equaled up to two.

"You… you're leaving?"

His voice cut out on the last syllable. There was so much hurt and surprise in his brother's gaze it felt like he was drowning in it.

Shiro swallowed. "Ichi..."

Ichigo shoved a hand into his hair, pulling the strands with a force that made Shiro wince. "What? It's too hard, so you're just going to leave? Move out? That's—" He shook his head, shoulders lifting before he dropped them again. "I mean, does dad even know? This is stupid. We can figure things out, Shiro."

He winced at his name.

"M' not movin' out." He couldn't hold his twin's eyes, didn't want to see the pain the next statement caused. "I'm leavin' Karakura."

"No." It was so soft and so quick he wondered if he even heard it. Then Ichigo shook his head, a violent dismissal, chest heaving under his soft, black shirt, eyes blazing and voice low. "No. Stupid, what about Graduation? It's tomorrow. You have to graduate."

"I got permission to skip it. Ya don't have ta walk across a stage to graduate."

Ichigo was motionless, but Shiro wasn't fooled. His brother had woken up fast enough, was starting to understand what was happening. He was teetering on the edge. If Shiro tried to leave, Ichigo would attack him.

"No."

Shiro winced at the volume that time, watched Ichigo warily where he stood shaking with clenched fists.

"You said you weren't going anywhere. You said you wouldn't leave me. You said."

Ichigo didn't get it. Of course, he didn't. He would likely never understand it. Shiro ground his teeth, but there was no strength in his voice. Hardly any breath in his words. "I don' wanna hurt ya anymore."

"You're hurting me now. This is hurting me."

Ichigo's eyes studied his, then they dropped to all the careful preparations. He shook his head, looked lost in a way that tore at Shiro's heart.

Ichigo grabbed him, pushed him against the door, hugged him, held him. His fingers dug into Shiro's back.

"Don't. Don't do this." He drew a shuddering breath. There was a wetness where his twin's face pressed into the crook of his neck. Raggedness to his voice. "Please."

He was almost sobbing, his body shaking with violent force.

Ichigo never could let anything or anyone go. People thought it was because he was so goddamn stubborn. It wasn't. Shiro knew his brother better than anyone, but even he could hardly stand to watch him fall apart.

"I won't— I won't say no anymore. I won't push you away. I'm sorry…" Ichigo kissed his neck, his shoulder, nails catching at skin. "Don't leave. Please. Just… Don't leave."

Shiro couldn't do it. Couldn't stand this. And he wanted. He wanted Ichigo so badly.

He listened to Ichigo's frantic heart, tightening his hold around his brother until Ichigo spoke again.

"I'm sorry. I've been a bastard to you. About everything. I hit you..." He stopped, ground his teeth together as he tried to form the right words.

"Ichi—"

"I mean it."

Shiro hesitated, sounded as desolate as Ichigo felt. "I know ya do."

Ichigo hardly let him get the words out. "And you'll stay?"

Shiro didn't move. He broke. Had he expected anything less? Isn't it why he'd kept it all from Ichigo in the first place?

"I'll stay."

Ichigo didn't let go, but pulled back enough to look him in the face, brow furrowed.

He shook his head. "Promise."

"I promise."

Something relaxed in his twin's darker eyes.

Ichigo took him back up the stairs, stripped him, touched him, moved him against the wall, awake and sober and dragging his mouth down Shiro's throat. Told him all the ways he was a stupid idiot for trying to leave.

Shiro agreed.

He ran his hands down Ichigo's sides, buried his face in his shoulder, pushed into him.

It was quiet. They had to be.

It was better that way. He heard every sound Ichigo made. Every hitching breath and stifled moan.

Ichigo urged him faster with his hands, but he shook his head.

They'd been in a hurry last time, drunk and rushed. Impatient. There was no reason it had to be painful. No reason any of it should have ever been painful. He pressed his fingers to Ichigo's lips as his twin shook and came, gasping, writhing. He took it all in. Memorized it. Saved it deep in the back of his mind.

He buried his face in Ichigo's shoulder when it was over, his body giving in to gravity a thousand things he couldn't change. "I don't wanna hurt you anymore."

How many times could he say it? How many ways?

"Then stay."

He couldn't see Ichigo's face, but he knew the tone of voice. Firm. Bullheaded. He wouldn't hear anything else.

Shiro closed his eyes, defeated. Utterly.

Ichigo was lying to himself. There was a way out of all of this, but he'd never find it. Imprisoned and trapped by doing nothing more than refusing to see the truth.

He still clung to their dead mother. Let his fear of leaving shut out the fact that the world was moving on without him. And Ichigo would never put a stop to what was between them. Not because Shiro wouldn't have let him like Ichigo said, but because he didn't want to. Every time Shiro had backed off, it was always Ichigo that breached the distance.

Shiro could beat at the bars of Ichigo's thoughts, scream, try to tear all the lies apart— and he had. For years. But it all amounted to the same thing. Ichigo wouldn't change. He couldn't.

What was left but to burn it all down around their heads?

Ichigo lay still. Shiro rolled off him so they could both do a better job of staring at the ceiling.

"Which college do you want to go to? It's your decision too."

In the dark, Shiro snorted. "Ya still don't wanna pick."

Ichigo was silent.

Shiro sighed. "I'll tell ya tomorrow."

Ichigo nodded, closed his eyes. For a long while, neither of them spoke.

Ichigo took a deep breath even though his eyes never opened. "Shi…?"

Fingers reached out for him, but Shiro didn't take them.

Instead, he swallowed and wet dry lips. "'m here."

It was what he'd always said, and it was enough.

Ichigo's body relaxed and he shifted into a better sleeping position. His breathing evened out a few moments later.

Shiro studied his sleeping face. Felt something break inside him.

He pushed fingers into Ichigo's bangs— soft as he could manage— then pressed his lips to Ichigo's.

He stayed that way until he was certain the sensation would never leave him.

Then he pulled away.

-o-

It was chilly.

Shiro lifted the cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag, gold-tinted, heavy-lidded eyes squinting against smoke and the fog of his own breath. He reached into his pocket and checked the time on his phone then shut it off. There wouldn't be anything on there he could stomach reading for a while and he didn't plan to answer it until he switched to his new number.

The dull light of his train approached down the track. He saw it from where he stood on the platform, his paperwork and tattered suitcase resting beside him.

His pulse beat hard in his throat, but he ignored it.

He'd almost stayed.

Standing beside Ichigo, watching his brother sleep. It'd been so fucking tempting to lie back down and forget everything. To throw his careful planning and effort in the trash. Though for what, he didn't know. Nothing would ever change. Once Ichigo realized what they'd done, what he had done. All of it Shiro's fault. Again.

He'd left easier after that.

Anytime he felt himself waver, he made himself picture the disgust in his twin's eyes. It kept him moving. He hated everything about what he was doing. Running. Hiding. Lying.

The train threw on its brakes and began screeching to a halt.

Even if Ichigo woke up, even if he tried to find Shiro, it'd be too late. He'd be gone.

His boarding call sounded and he gathered his few belongings to get in line.

"Sir." The conductor took his ticket, but reached up, tapping the no-smoking sign posted at the rail.

The man couldn't even meet his eyes.

Shiro gave an exasperated sigh, but stepped out of the way, dropping the cigarette to smash it under a toe. It was fine, he was feeling sick anyway. He started to cram the pack into his jacket pocket, then paused, looked over toward the trash and tossed them away instead.

Ichigo could be proud of that at least.

Shiro had been listening. He'd heard him. Ichigo was the one that hadn't been paying attention, but that part of Shiro's life was over now.

The last signal blared.

He grabbed his things and bounded up the steps, and the doors shut behind him.

.

.

.

Fin.

A/N:

Finally finished. I hope you enjoyed the story. Not a typical ending, but an ending. Thank you to everyone that stuck around for the entire four years this story took. If any of you paid attention to the author's notes, you know I was planning two more parts to this story. I'm not sure anymore if they will happen, I've kind of fallen out of the habit of writing fanfic, but we will see.

Thanks again to everyone that bothered to leave a review for this fic. As always, that was the motivation I needed to finally get this done c':