Title: The Promise

Warnings: mild violence, physical and verbal abuse, traumatic elements, language, m/m sex

Summary: Ichigo interrupts a group of bullies harassing a classmate and steps in to help out. Only problem is the victim doesn't want to be saved. IchiIshi

AN: Someone requested this prompt forever ago but I wasn't sure I could write an in-character Ishida for this scenario. Either way, I like how the story turned out and I hope you do, too!

Theme songs: "Swallow the Knife" by Story of the Year, "Be Still and Breathe" by Ivoryline, and "Changing" by Saosin

The sun is still beaming proudly by mid-afternoon. A flock of birds streaks past patches of fluffy, indolent clouds crossing the vibrant azure hemisphere above. Delicate sakura blossoms shiver on the tenuous perch of waving branches jostled by an early spring breeze. Laughter echoes across the school's vacated grounds. Verdant grass whispers underfoot as Ichigo curiously follows the unexpected sound around a corner of the tall grey building. Another noise, like crunching gravel and shattered melon, hastens his stride toward a shaded corner near the soccer field he and his teammates left just ten minutes ago.

Ichigo draws to a stunned halt at what he witnesses there.

Face-down on the close-cropped lawn, bloody and defeated, lies a single student amid nearly a dozen towering ominously over him. They take turns shouting taunts and aiming kicks, guffawing at the boy's weak attempts to shield himself. Their victim does not scream or beg or cry. Doesn't threaten or glare or grumble. His body defensively curls in on itself, an automatic reflex spurred by pain and instinct, as he patiently waits for the blows to stop coming. That's all.

Seeing the boy so resigned to the beating does something to Ichigo's insides. They writhe and rage and burn until he has no choice but to rush headfirst into the melee.

"What the hell are you doing!?" he demands of the cackling bullies, yanking one of them back just before heel meets spine. "Get off him! Get off!"

The one Ichigo holds jerks free of his grip and turns to sneer, "None of your business what we're—"

He bites back the remainder of his sentence to see who it is he challenges. Kurosaki Ichigo, they whisper among themselves, the Golden Boy of Karakura High. Well-loved by most, he excels at sports, academics, and the complex social scene. The trifecta. One look and they know who they are dealing with. Ichigo isn't as conceited as he should be, but even he knows his influence extends to these jerks, too.

"Get out of here, all of you!"

After the initial shock, one of the outliers sneaks forward to land another hit on the motionless form in the center of their makeshift ring, evoking a strained whoosh of air and nothing else. Ichigo stomps over to shove the opportunistic prick to the ground and jam his foot over an unguarded throat. A hushed round of murmurs sweeps the assembled troublemakers, warning of Ichigo's fighting prowess and infamous short temper. The pinned assailant rasps in a breath to beg.

"Please…Kurosaki-san!"

Ignoring the strangled plea, Ichigo looks to the others and growls, "Why are you still here? Wanna be next? Huh!?"

The threat triggers a mass exodus, but not without a fair number of glowers directed his way. Several of them spit at their target, hissing vicious slurs and malicious vows of retribution as parting gifts. Ichigo lifts his leg and the student he pinned scrambles up to sprint after his fleeing compatriots. He watches them skitter off the premises like panicked cockroaches, shaking his head at their collective cowardice and malice. Bullying isn't exactly uncommon in a typical high school setting, but what they've done to this boy…

Turning to appraise the person he rescued, Ichigo balks to see him still lying prone on the ground. He kneels beside the kid and tentatively touches palm to upper back.

"Don't," is the immediate reaction.

"Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Pulling his hand back, Ichigo watches him slowly push to his knees, then rise to a shaky stand. Black hair, blue eyes, pale skin, lean figure, skewed glasses. Vaguely familiar. Their gazes meet and Ichigo blinks twice at the disdain he reads there. The boy wobbles and Ichigo moves to help steady him but his arms are roughly brushed aside.

"Don't touch me!"

"Hey, I'm just trying to make sure you don't keel over. Are you all right?" The bruised student scowls at his stupid question. Ichigo purses his lips in remorse and retries, "Listen, is there anything I can do? Someone you want me to call, or—"

"You shouldn't have intervened," he suddenly snaps.

Ichigo's mouth falls open at that. "Of course I should have! They were all over you!"

"It is none of your concern!"

The fiery rejoinder costs him, sparking a nasty coughing fit from being bashed in the ribs a little too hard. Again, Ichigo moves to assist but he is adamantly blocked. In spite of the circumstance, this boy's attitude is verging on pissing him off. Usually, victims of violent crime aren't nearly so contrary toward their saviors.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, you know."

"Thanks," he flings the word like ammunition, pushing past Ichigo to stumble toward the school's gate, "but you wasted your time since what you just interrupted has become a regular occurrence. At any rate, I'm fine now so you can go home."

He follows the tattered guy, grabbing his forgotten messenger bag from a short distance away and jogging to catch up. Ichigo wordlessly offers the bag to its owner and isn't surprised when it is silently snatched from his loose hold. A twinge of pain registers on the boy's features as the strap settles over a shoulder.

"You're 'fine now'? Bullshit! Look at you…Are you sure nothing's broken?"

"I'm sure."

"But you—"

"Drop it, Kurosaki," he snarls without turning to glance at Ichigo. "Go home to your family and forget about the pitiful plight of a nameless classmate."

That has him going quiet for a moment. It is clear the boy mentioned his name and pointed out that Ichigo does not know his on purpose. A blatant emphasis on the dichotomy of their social importance. It's true Ichigo has never been good with names or noticing people he doesn't directly interact with. He's working on it, all right? That doesn't mean he can't care about a 'nameless classmate' being senselessly bullied right in front of his eyes! They reach the gate and turn left, the opposite way he takes to get home.

"What's your name?" No response. Ichigo skips ahead to walk backward in front of and slow the boy's militant momentum. "You won't even tell me that much? Do I have to ask around at school tomorrow?"

Visibly taken aback at the very suggestion, he reluctantly mutters, "Ishida Uryuu. Feel free to forget it."

"Ishida, why were those guys attacking you? Did you do something to make them target you?"

"What kind of idiotic question is that? I did something to incite a twelve-man gang into taking shots at me after school?"

"You know I didn't mean it that way! But there must be some reason they—"

"Leave it alone, Kurosaki. It has nothing to do with you!"

Resisting the urge to groan aloud, Ichigo keeps pace beside him and thinks hard about the situation. He ponders what the others were yelling at Ishida as they rallied around his hunched form in shared triumph and disgust. Faggot. That's what several of them said very clearly. Were they abusing Ishida purely out of rampant homophobia? Eyeing him for signs that it could be true, Ichigo observes nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would mark him as a male interested in fellow males. Aside from an assortment of fresh cuts and bruises, Ishida's appearance is well within the typical standards of someone his age. Not that sexual preference is so easy to discern from surface aesthetics.

"Are you—"

"Are you still here?" Ishida whips around to interject. He stops in the middle of the street to face Ichigo. "Do you intend to bully me, as well?"

"What? No!"

"Then leave me alone! Haven't you done enough?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ishida lifts fingers to drag over his face in frustration and winds up smearing blood across the bridge of his nose. He twitches at a stab of pain from an aggravated cut there. Ichigo's frown deepens.

"I'm not some side-show freak created to slake your curiosity! How dare you feign concern over someone whose name you couldn't recall after more than two years sharing the same class? Just stay out of my life!"

The impending supernova behind those sharp eyes doesn't deter him so much as the revelation that they really are classmates. Same year, same classroom, same thirty students in a small space day after day and Ichigo doesn't even recognize the guy? Even for him, this is pathetic. He feels immensely guilty for it. Having delivered the killing blow, Ishida's vitriolic expression evens into a practiced neutrality and he marches down the road without Ichigo dogging his steps any longer.

"Will you come to my party next weekend, Kurosaki-kun? Please say you will!"

"Yeah, it won't be a great party unless you come!"

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Ichigo resists the urge to sigh in front of the two young women begging him to accept the invitation. These days he gets at least one per week. Don't they understand he is already pretty busy with club activities, studying, and his part-time job? Not to mention his regular group of friends are always dragging him off to do things with them. Still, Ichigo keeps getting everyone from freshman he has never even seen before to seniors in his own class asking for his company. It's flattering, in a way, but also more of a hindrance than they realize.

"Sorry," he laments, doing his best to sound sincere, "I've got plans. Maybe next time."

They coo and frown in disappointment but wander down the hall back to their homerooms nonetheless. That sigh he held back slips out as he turns to walk into his own classroom. Upon entering, his eyes inevitably seek out an increasingly familiar form, as they have been since last Friday's awkward after-school meeting with Ishida Uryuu. He hasn't forgotten the name.

Ichigo was a bit shocked to stride in the following Monday and immediately notice the reclusive boy at the back of the room, bent over his desk reading with his head down and his face shielded by a short curtain of dark hair, just as he is now. Ishida is certainly easy to miss when he puts his mind to it. But Ichigo has been surveying him all week and he has discovered that the kid doesn't talk to anyone and no one talks to him. Even their sensei overlooks him after roll is called. Most days he doesn't eat lunch. When he does, it is something small and cheap like pre-packaged bread or crackers quietly consumed at his desk. Ishida never goes to the cafeteria and rarely leaves the classroom if he doesn't have to. He doesn't do club activities and never volunteers for anything. The whole scenario reeks of solitude and Ichigo doesn't like it at all.

Shaking him from his musings, Keigo bounds over to chat.

"What was that about, Ichigo? Those two girls asking you out again?"

"I guess so," he distractedly confirms, watching Ishida turn a page in his book with minimal sound and movement, "to some party this weekend."

"The same smoking hot juniors as last time? You turned them down? Are you nuts!?"

"Probably."

His gaze reluctantly transfers to Keigo as he grabs Ichigo's shirt flaps in exaggerated exasperation, crying, "Why!? Why do you do this to me? Do you know how hard it is to get an invitation from them? You're supposed to accept and then bring me along so I can escape the monotony of a boring Saturday night playing video games at Mizuiro's house again!"

"Crash their party if you want to go so bad," advises Ichigo, knocking loose the grip on his shirt. "You don't need me for that, do you?"

"But, but…"

Seeing his friend's lip quivering theatrically, Ichigo rolls his eyes and says, "If it means that much to you, I'll think about it. All right? Now, why don't you go find the others on the roof while there's still time to eat?"

Keigo's dejected pout transforms into a wide grin. "Thanks, buddy! You're the best!"

He flashes a quick thumbs-up and dashes through the door to meet everyone else for lunch. Ichigo brought a homemade bento, as usual, but he hesitates to grab it and head upstairs. Camouflaged in the corner, Ishida flips another page. His feet carry him forward before Ichigo consciously decides what he wants to do.

"Hey, Ishida."

The boy is so startled to hear his name and see Ichigo standing in front of his desk that his book tumbles from his grasp to the floor with a soft clatter. Widened blue eyes meet determined brown, and that instant is all Ishida needs to regain his stoic composure. Ichigo stoops to pick up the fallen novel and set it on the desktop as a gesture of truce. Ishida doesn't even glance at it.

"W-what do you want?" he cautiously queries, tapping severely scratched glasses back into place. It's a wonder he can still see through the lenses.

"Why aren't you eating lunch today?"

Eyebrows scrunch angrily and Ishida averts his gaze. His voice goes flat and harsh as he states, "That's none of your business."

"Is that your catch-phrase? Seems to be your favorite thing to say to me."

"Seems to be the only relevant thing to say to you."

Bending to prop against the desk at eye-level, Ichigo forces the boy to look at him in the hopes of dismantling some of the layers comprising Ishida's impressive guard.

"I'm just asking if you're hungry. Is that such an unforgivable question?" A muscle jumps in his jaw as he clenches it tighter, the only indication that Ishida is actually hearing him since he refuses to respond. "This is lunch time, after all. Are you on a diet? 'Cause I'll tell you right now you don't need it."

Those intense eyes bore into his, then flit around the room before returning to Ichigo's. "Your classmates are watching, Kurosaki. Are you sure you can afford to have this petty argument in front of them?"

He barely twists to glance over his shoulder. Just as Ishida said, the dozen or so students who chose to stay in the room and eat are all staring at the two of them. Some of them are gossiping under their breath and behind secretive hands about the popular guy talking with the class outcast. Ichigo turns back to note a hint of smugness in the boy's expression. Apparently, Ishida believes a threat to his social standing is enough to scare him away. Guess again, Ichigo thinks as his mouth briefly curves into a smirk. He straightens from his lean against the desk and raises his voice for anyone to overhear.

"You think I'm worried about what they think? Well, I don't care and neither should you. I'll talk to whoever I want, hang out with whoever I want, and eat lunch with whoever I want. Come on, if you didn't bring anything I'll spot you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Ichigo mulishly repeats with mounting irritation.

"Because I just don't! Now, go away."

"If you don't want to eat with me, fine. I'll still buy you something. What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone," grits Ishida, appearing even more annoyed than him. "No one asked you for charity."

"You can pay me back tomorrow if it bothers you."

"I'd rather not."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Ichigo feels his patience waning. All he wants is to feed the stubborn brat! Why does Ishida have to be so difficult? Looking so pitiful with his nerdy novel and his emo haircut and his distrustful eyes…Shouldn't he be glad that someone wants to be nice to him? Everyone else in the school pretends he doesn't exist, so Ichigo taking a friendly interest should be the highlight of his day. Yet, Ishida acts like he is the world's biggest pest!

"Just take the free lunch, will you!?"

"How many times must I decline? Find someone else to torment!"

Heaving a sigh that comes very close to resembling a growl, Ichigo grabs the boy's wrist and tugs. Maybe once he is out of his chair and halfway down the hall, Ishida will realize how immature he is acting and—A hiss of discomfort escapes and Ishida can't turn his face away in time to hide how it registers there, too. Ichigo takes a breath to apologize, thinking he tugged too hard, but he notices something distracting. At the edge of Ishida's long-sleeved uniform shirt, peeking from under the cuff, is a hint of dark color against pale flesh. Gently pushing up the sleeve, Ichigo's eyes flare to see a collection of mottled bruises running up the length of his forearm. A glimpse is all he manages before Ishida reclaims his wrist and hides it in his lap, flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry," murmurs Ichigo too quietly to be overheard. He crouches beside the desk to ask a somber question, "Were you serious when you said what happened last Friday is a daily event?"

Ishida's eyes squeeze shut as he struggles to control elevated breathing. When they open, the glow of rebellious energy has vanished, replaced with something blank and bottomless. "It doesn't matter. Just leave me alone. Please."

Sympathy swells in him. Ichigo has more questions, many more, but it is clear Ishida isn't in the answering mood. He slowly rises and turns to honor the boy's desperate request to be left alone. A rash of excited chatter breaks out around him. The witnesses are alight with their scandalous new material. Ichigo hears several of them whispering about how cruel 'that sullen freak' was being to their 'adorable Kurosaki-kun' and he wants to scream at them for being so insensitive. Instead, he grabs his bento and joins his friends on the roof as though none of it happened.

Ichigo attended the party that weekend for Keigo's sake. He spent the entire time avoiding as many people as possible and made a random excuse to leave as soon as he could. Parties are not his 'thing' on the best of days, but Ichigo can't be expected to socialize and make merry when he has more important matters on his mind. Like brooding over the fact that Ishida has new bruises Tuesday morning and looks like he didn't sleep at all last night. Ichigo wants to confront him about it but he knows exactly how that conversation will end.

Still, he keeps shooting glances Ishida's way all day long until his friends start to notice. They don't comment on it, not yet, but it is only a matter of time. Rukia will be the first to ask why he has developed a sudden interest in the loner in the corner. She'll probably make jokes about how it's always the quiet ones who crack and do something crazy. Beginning to grasp a basic understanding of what said loner has had to endure, Ichigo wouldn't blame him. He has always hated injustice and bullying more than anything, and Ishida doesn't deserve any of it. Much less to be targeted so ruthlessly and so often!

The more he thinks about it, the angrier Ichigo becomes.

The final bell rings and everyone breaks into casual conversation while they pack up their textbooks and notepads. He doesn't respond when Inoue asks about studying later, but Chad steps in to volunteer in Ichigo's place. Renji's offer to walk together for kendo club practice is waived; he won't be going today. Even Tatsuki's invitation to meet at a cafe and catch up is denied. Finally, everyone has left for the day and Ichigo hurries to tail one student in particular. If Ishida won't talk to him with others around to snoop, perhaps he will be open to a more private discussion.

This plan in mind, Ichigo quickly exchanges his shoes near the entrance and bolts outside before he loses track of the boy. The bullies have already found him first. They surround Ishida in the deserted rear courtyard, taking turns shoving at him when he tries to push past. From this distance, Ichigo can't make out much of what they are saying, but a few key remarks stand out. Demeaning and homophobic, they cajole their favorite prey for every offensive phrase they can imagine for a smart, shy gay kid.

For his part, Ishida puts up some resistance but there are far too many opponents to realistically fight by himself. One of the more outspoken boys throws him roughly against a wall, holding him by the throat while two others take solid grip of his arms to anchor him there. Another scurries forward, giggling like a nutcase, and punches Ishida's unguarded midsection. The one squeezing his throat aims a blow that knocks off his glasses and splits his lip. The bright bloom of blood is soon to follow.

Ichigo has seen enough.

They hear the thud of sneakers on concrete and pause in the midst of committing their hate crime to look around. The four holding Ishida against the wall release him, and he doubles over to cradle his tenderized stomach. He spits blood onto the ground and glances up to see what earned him the respite. Shock overtakes his pained visage.

"Kurosaki!?"

"Get away from him!" Ichigo yells, charging into the group to ward them away from Ishida.

"Come to ruin our fun again?" one of them sneers. "Why do you keep protecting this flaming piece of shit?"

"Why shouldn't I?" he vehemently returns. "What you assholes are doing to him is seriously fucked up! Don't you have any sense of compassion or empathy? How can you live with yourselves after treating someone like this?"

The intensity of their glowers triples from one second to the next.

Behind him, Ishida urges, "Stay out of this, idiot! Leave while you still can!"

Ichigo doesn't need to see the boy to know he is still winded and wheezing from the strike to his diaphragm. In this state, Ishida doesn't have the luxury of eschewing his help regardless of the reason. He's better off staying quiet and letting Ichigo deal with them.

"We don't need a lecture from someone like you!"

"Yeah! Who asked you?"

"Shut up, Kurosaki!"

"Are you two lovers?" another derisively suggests.

Confused by the sudden turn, Ichigo endeavors to rally. "What? No, we're not—"

"Queer-lover!"

"Kurosaki to his boyfriend's rescue…"

"He's not so tough. I bet we could take him."

"Let's just kick his ass!"

A chorus of eager agreement erupts and the hooligans start to close back in on them.

"Fine. If you want a brawl, I'll take you all on! Fair warning, though: I won't hold back against a bunch of heartless pricks like you."

Ichigo cracks his knuckles and smirks wickedly, waiting for one of them to challenge him. Something about his words and demeanor have them reconsidering, however, and hasty resolution steadily drains from combative stances. A couple break from the crowd to run away. A few more grumble lame excuses and saunter after the other cowards. Several more fold under increasing pressure until just a handful remain. One who might be the leader stares Ichigo down for a long time, then he goes to Ishida's glasses sitting on the sidewalk and stomps with all his might. But even he goes the way of his lackeys.

It is over. Once all the assailants have gone, he turns to check on Ishida. He is blotting at the blood on his lower lip with shaking hands and cringing at the sting. Ichigo takes gentle hold of his chin to get a better look at the cut, but the boy jerks away and pushes him back. Frowning with his whole body, he gears up to ask just what Ishida's problem is that he can't accept anyone's aid when he is in dire need of it. In light of what he just interrupted, however, Ichigo can't bring himself to say anything that might make him feel worse.

"You shouldn't have done that," Ishida wearily reprimands. "It won't make a difference. They'll just find me when you're not around, or decide to harass you, too."

"You expect me to ignore something like that? I'm not a monster!"

"Do you think you're the first person to catch them in the act? You're just the first one foolish enough to barge in!"

"What are you complaining about, Ishida? I saved your ass, twice!"

"I didn't ask for the help of some dumb jock and I'm not doing any weird favors to repay you, so don't even ask!"

Struggling to catch his breath after that outburst, he doesn't see the way Ichigo's expression contorts in pure puzzlement.

"What do you mean 'weird favors'?" Ishida won't glance in his direction, much less clarify that statement, but he can take a wild guess. "Are…are you really gay? Is that why they harass you?"

For a moment, Ichigo is sure he won't answer that, either. He keeps his mouth shut and waits just in case. The suspense builds, peaks when Ishida finally meets his gaze.

"Yes," he admits in a small voice, "I am. But I've never told anyone in school, especially those thugs. They just assumed based on a rumor started by a guy who got mad when I wouldn't go down on him in the restroom a couple of years ago."

Struck speechless at the confession, Ichigo is slow to reply. His sympathy skyrockets for the kid, along with his rage at the bullies making his life hell over something so inexcusably trivial. He takes a deliberate step closer and speaks with his best consoling tone.

"That is horrible. You don't deserve to be treated that way for liking men, or being shy, or acing all your exams. People can be so fucking shallow and cruel, and I'm so sorry you've had to suffer everything alone."

By the end of his speech, Ishida has begun to tear up a little. And shut down a lot. Putting some distance between them, he crosses his arms and turns his head away.

"I…I don't need your pity, Kurosaki," he announces with forced severity, voice wavering. "Stay out of my life. Stop watching me in class and don't follow me after school."

"It's not pity. I—"

"Whatever. Get out of my way."

He moves to leave but Ichigo can't abide seeing someone hurting and not doing whatever he can to fix it, even against their own stubborn will. Reaching out to stop Ishida with a firm grip at his shoulders, he summons every ounce of inner strength within him to keep emotion from bowling him over. Ichigo can be man enough to admit this is really getting to him.

"It's okay. Hey, it's okay, Ishida. I won't tease you for crying 'cause I'm gonna cry just from thinking about what you've been through."

The boy halts his efforts to fend Ichigo off, astonished to see the truth of his words in the sorrowful shimmer of brown eyes. His iron-clad defenses begin to crumble and Ishida slowly sinks to the ground. Wrapping arms about folded legs, he trembles from the strain of holding the misery inside. Ichigo goes down with him, dropping to his knees in front of the boy. Eventually, Ishida raises his head to share an important secret. Late afternoon sunlight and a melancholy gleam combine to make his irises practically burst with vibrant color and Ichigo couldn't look away for his life.

"It didn't used to be like this. Before they suspected anything, I was like any other student. I was never popular but I did have some friends. Until one of them got hurt standing up for me. I had to push them all away so they wouldn't be victimized by association."

"What about your family?"

Ishida squeezes his eyes shut, brow bunching in misery, and a tear slips down his left cheek. He doesn't bother wiping it away.

"They're all dead. Except my father, who disowned me when I came out to him last year. But none of that matters now. I'm fine with being alone. I just need to get through high school so I can attend university. Start fresh where no one knows anything about me."

The full gravity of his true circumstances sets in hard. Ichigo scoots to sit beside him as he considers everything. Ishida is blinking back his sadness and breathing unevenly, determined not to cry outright. There is something Ichigo wants to do, although it likely won't be received well. He has to try anyway.

Reaching out to take Ishida's hand, he releases a relieved breath when the gesture is miraculously allowed.

"You're not alone anymore, Ishida. If no one else is brave enough to stay by your side, then I volunteer because no one deserves to live like this."

They float in the silence spurred by his gallant oath. All right, so it sounded a tad more melodramatic than he intended, but the sincerity was real. Ishida proves the message came through clearly by gratefully squeezing Ichigo's hand. But then he pulls his away.

"I appreciate that…more than I care to admit…but I don't want to get you tangled up in my issues. Especially if you really are this nice of a person."

"Bullshit," Ichigo proclaims. He takes Ishida's hand again, more firmly this time, and says, "I'm not giving you a choice. I am your friend and that's it. I'll help you get those assholes off your back for good, no matter what."

"I've already tried everything I could think of, from fighting as fiercely as possible to not fighting at all. I've gone to teachers and even the police on one notable occasion. Nothing has worked! Everything I try just makes it that much worse."

"This time will be different. We're working together now, as a team. You'll see." Wearing a confident smile, Ichigo pushes to a stand and pulls Ishida along with him. "First, we need to get you home so you can clean up."

"Absolutely not!" Appearing distressed at the very idea, Ishida jerks his hand from Ichigo's and shakes his head. "I do not need you to walk me home."

"What if those guys are lying in wait somewhere?"

"They wouldn't wait this long just to torture me."

"You don't know that. Why risk it?"

"Because I don't want you to see my place!"

Ishida looks down and bites his lip like he hadn't meant to say that, then winces as the press of his teeth aggravates the cut he forgot about. It triggers a fresh trickle of blood that he dabs with a sleeve. His eyes land accusatorily on Ichigo for the slip-up.

"What's wrong with your place?" he calmly asks. Of course Ishida won't say. Subverting a powerful desire to roll his eyes at the sheer stubbornness, Ichigo relents, "If your home is off-limits, how about mine? My family won't mind and you can sleep over if you want."

Unmitigated surprise steals his words and flares his features. It takes him a minute to form a coherent response. "Y-you would…be fine with inviting a 'devious homosexual' into your house?"

Despite the serious atmosphere, Ichigo laughs, asking, "Why wouldn't it be fine? It's not like you're gonna attack me. Besides, I don't have the same misconceptions about that kind of thing as most people 'cause my aunt, Kuukaku, is a lesbian. She's talked about it a lot and she has no filter whatsoever. I have heard some things, man."

Ishida can't help smirking at that. He has one more concern, though. "What if our classmates think we're involved? Won't your popularity and extracurriculars suffer if people start suspecting you might be gay?"

"Like I said when you wouldn't have lunch with me last week—which I'm still annoyed about, by the way—I don't care what they think. If me being gay meant everyone who calls me 'friend' would start treating me like a pariah, then I don't need their friendship to begin with. Let 'em think what they want."

At a loss in the wake of that assertive monologue, Ishida weakly tries, "Is there anything I can say to dissuade you?"

"Nope. You're stuck with me."

He rubs a hand over his face, groaning in defeat. "Great…"

While he fetches the boy's abandoned bag like last time, Ishida walks up to his glasses and gazes forlornly down at the warped frame and shattered lenses. He mumbles something about not even having a secondary pair at home anymore. That was his secondary pair. Ichigo hands over his bag and mulls over a possible solution.

"A friend of my dad's is an optometrist. We might be able to get you some new specs."

"Thanks, but I can't afford it right now. I will just have to deal with bumping into things and tripping wherever I go."

"As hilarious as that would be, it's not a problem. If we can't get them pro bono, I'll make my dad cover the bill. He owes me a favor or five for helping out at the clinic over the summer." Ishida prepares to object but Ichigo preempts him with a light tug to his sleeve and a curt command, "Let's go. I'm tired of looking at this ugly-ass school building."

Ishida makes a disgruntled noise but obligingly starts walking.