Coming To You

A/N: I wanted the normal IchiRuki fans a chance to taste the bit of IchiRuki love inside my Bleach OC story, Paradox of Nihilism, so they don't have to look for the story but still get their favorite pairing (okay, and it's my favorite pairing, too). I'll keep adding any IchiRuki bits in that story to this one. Enjoy!

Romeo and Juliet was the classic tragic love story about a young man and young woman who loved each other, but couldn't be together because of the hatred between their families. Some consider it to be the greatest love story of all time. In Kurosaki Isshin's opinion, Romeo and Juliet had nothing on the story of Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia.

Isshin's son wakes before dinner and eats with them, taking slow, measured bites. The family carries on normal conversation and Isshin and Karin do not mention or stare at the Shinigami sitting on a kitchen stool and watching them fondly.

He knew why she did this to herself, but that didn't make having to watch the two of them any easier.

Rukia followed Karin into her room as Ichigo took a shower. They would talk quietly until he got out of the bathroom.

Ichigo slipped into his pajamas and gave his bed a despairing look. He hadn't been sleeping well on the bed, but the nap he had on the couch this afternoon was fucking fantastic. With a shrug, he quietly told his father – who was sitting at the kitchen table by himself and sipping coffee, of all things – that he was sleeping on the couch tonight. The older man stared into his coffee and gave a noncommittal nod. He also watched Rukia get up from the table and follow him.

Ichigo fell asleep sitting up in the corner of the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table. He didn't even feel the arm draped across his abdomen, the thin figure pressed against his side, or the cheek on his shoulder. But he did know that he went out like a damn light.

Isshin saw Rukia cuddled against Ichigo like a mouse under a tree in a storm. He sighed deeply and sat on the coffee table next to his son's outstretched legs. "You shouldn't do this to yourself, Rukia-chan." He kept his voice low. He already knew how hard it was for Ichigo to get some sleep. And it would be rather awkward to explain why he was speaking to an empty space beside him in the dark. "It's not good for your health."

She nuzzled Ichigo's sleeve sleepily. "I don't care," she murmured truthfully, breathing in his scent. She could feel her muscles relax even more just from that. "I don't care…"

Isshin sighed again and ruffled her hair. "Your brother is worried about you, kid." She opened her eyes in surprise and he scoffed at the face she made. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You don't really think he bought those excuses you were feeding him, did you? I had to reassure him you weren't running off to hand your powers to some other witless, unsuspecting human. He's worried you've become a little…reckless."

That was putting it nicely. The word Byakuya had actually used – at the top of his aristocratic voice, no less – was 'suicidal'.

Rukia huffed and breathed in more of the boy beside her. "I just can't seem to walk away from him…"

At night when she tried to sleep, the bed never seemed warm enough – no matter what she tried, no matter how many blankets she piled on the bed. She was just so cold all the time. Without him, she couldn't get warm again.

"I understand," Isshin said quietly. He motioned to his son's sleeping form. "He can feel you, you know."

It was her turn to scoff this time, snorting sadly at that notion. "No he can't." To demonstrate, Rukia grabbed Ichigo's arm and squeezed it hard, hard enough that he would normally cry out in pain – or, at least, awaken. "See? I could probably punch him in the face and he wouldn't feel it."

"Not his body, Rukia. His soul. His heart still feels you." He pointed to the peaceful face of his only son. "He would be scowling in his sleep if you weren't here. I know it hurts you – it hurts him, too. But I promise you that a part of him still feels you here with him."

It was a small consolation and he knew it.

But it was consolation nonetheless.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-san."

"You're welcome, Rukia-chan." He grunted in pain as he stood again, his joints popping in protest against the movement. He turned the light out in the kitchen and climbed back up the stairs. Days like this made him feel exactly as old as he was. And that was very, very old.