Title: Sounds.

Genre: Drama – Romance.

Pairing: IchiRuki. Hinted, one-sided RenjiRukia.

A/N's: This is a new fandom, and a new series for me. This is also the first attempt I made at writing IchigoRukia, so I expect some OCCness to be present. I only started watching Bleach recently and manga-wise I have only read up to chapter 20 or so, so though I have read about it, I don't know exactly what happens in the next arcs. Anyway, this little drabble is independent enough, and it can be placed anywhere in the series, as long as it is after they get Rukia back from Soul Society.

And special thanks to Nullius in Verba who offered me a hand and fixed all the grammatical mistakes in this fic, THANKS!

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Summary: Ichigo is hurt during a battle and resting on Rukia's lap; a Rukia who is oblivious to the fact that he's awake, and musing since quite a long time. IchigoRukia

Sounds

Darkness was everywhere around him.

And through that darkness, even though he couldn't see it, he could hear the distant beating of a butterfly's wings.

He knew whose arms he was lying in right now, even without having to open his eyes.

So he doesn't bother to.

If he did, then she would realize he had regained consciousness and the moment would end. She would get up and leave, pretending to be strong and unconcerned; kicking and bickering and lecturing him for being overly reckless and the heavens-know-what.

And then he would no longer feel her body heat, or the softness of her skin against his cheek, or the warmth that the quiet pounding of her heart was irradiating through his own body.

And then he would miss it. He would miss it all. He would miss her.

And, as Ichigo had learnt through time, that was a feeling that he dreaded to have.

He had become way too used to her; way too used to her insults and kicks and play-pretends and bad drawings. He had become way too used to all the craziness that surrounded everything she did, everything she was.

He had become too used to Rukia, so much so that things just didn't feel right when she wasn't around.

And, honestly, most of the time he wanted to kick himself for that.

He shouldn't have become so used to her presence; he shouldn't have adapted so well to her. He shouldn't have started to develop that need for her, and he shouldn't have admitted it in the first place.

It was always easier when he could deny to himself what she did to him; it was always simpler.

But it turned out that it just became too impossible to ignore, and even though he was stubborn—stubborn as hell—he just couldn't find a way to play the part of the careless, oblivious boy anymore.

At least, not to himself.

With her, with the world, was a totally different matter.

He was good at pretending; he really was. All he had to do was frown and look nonchalant and no one would suspect anything.

He was the same Ichigo, as always; and she didn't mean anything to him beyond an important nakama.

But the truth was that it was more than that, it had always been more than that.

Since when, exactly? He didn't know, nor does he really want to know.

It could very well have been the first time he saw her; or maybe the instant she trespassed, and came across that wall with that aristocratic and ethereal look on her face; or maybe it was that rainy day on the park, on his mother's death anniversary; or maybe when she first left, when she was taken away from him into custody.

Or maybe the first time he saw her smile.

It could have been any moment, really, and he wasn't yet all that willing to admit his feelings for her to go and seriously wonder about that.

Maybe he would be, someday; or maybe he never would.

Who knows? He certainly doesn't.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, a soft and almost broken voice enters his ears, and all his thoughts come to a halt at the sound of her voice.

"…You're such an idiot."

Those are her marvelous, long-awaited words, and he cannot help but chuckle inwardly, trying hard to keep his trademark smirk from possessing his lips, for he knows better than what her words are saying.

He can hear the underlying worry behind them just as well as he can hear the affection hiding in them, or the tears that didn't want to leave her eyes.

He can hear it all, he always has been able to, so it's not her words but rather their meaning that he takes to heart.

Because that's how everything with Rukia was: complicated but at the same time so simple. All her words, even the more simple ones had a hidden meaning in them, you just had to look past them into what Rukia really meant to say.

He still wasn't all that good at it, but at least he tries.

They both are a lot alike in that.

His thoughts are interrupted again, and the content smile that wanted to grace his lips is stopped when that rough voice reached his ears.

"How is he?"

He wants to raise an eyebrow in mock-surprise; he knew better than that.

"…He's alright, he just has to rest for a while. But knowing him, he's not going to. He's too damn stubborn for that."

He can hear the smile in her voice, and is sure Renji can as well, because his voice gets more serious and his statement more stern.

"…Good, then we should go. Come on, Rukia; they're waiting for us."

Something inside him constricts painfully after his words, and he fights off the need of just waking and springing upright to kick that idiot Renji's ass for even suggesting it.

But he can feel Rukia looking down at him with sad eyes, and he can feel her hand, which was laying besides his ear, tremble slightly. But it all fades even before he's able to think anything, and her hand is no longer trembling and he just knows that there's no trace of that sad look she had given him just two seconds ago.

There's resolution in her face now; blankness even.

And it reflects on her answer, which resounds in his ears for longer than it should, even when it was just a mere whisper against the coldness of the night.

"...Aa, let's go"

She's the same Rukia, as always; a shinigami who belongs to Soul Society, a being who doesn't belong in the human world.

But she is still the girl who came into his world and turned it upside-down, changing it for the better.

And as he feels her slowly taking his head into her frail hands and carefully leaving him in the ground, detaching herself from under him, he refuses to show any emotion and forces himself to remain still.

It was easier that way, for both of them.

Neither of them would have to put on a façade and try to look strong for the other, as if they didn't care at all.

It was best for them, then, for her to leave silently.

Even when every single step she took resounded like a broken echo through his head.

And through the darkness that still surrounded him, Ichigo could hear the sound of something shattering.

Owari