title — underneath the same sky.
summary — they had a different sort of love.
pairings — rukihime.
words — 564
warnings — shameless fluff, rambling, possible ooc.

Kissing her, kissing Rukia, wasn't something that Orihime had planned on.

They were having lunch when it happens; talking after the whole incident with Tsukishima is settled and pushed away into a bitter, painful memory. The air between them is quiet, gentle and relaxed and – Rukia will remember later when she returns to Ichigo's closet with a breathy sigh and bruised lips – a little intimate.

Orihime's tummy twists into knots when the petite shinigami chuckles at their conversation. The sound is a little rough, but sweet, like the sound of rusty wind chimes. It makes the teenager's heart jump and shiver, flutter against her ribs like the wings of a hummingbird.

Timidly, she glances away from the older women and sips nervously at her tea. She knows she loves Rukia, simply adores Rukia, and the feeling is mutual from what the shinigami tells her of her memories of those painful moments in Hueco Mundo. The love — their love — is different, though.

It's different from those butterflies she feels for Kurosaki-kun, those sweet and fragile feelings.

It's different than how she loves Tatsuki-chan, her forever loyal friend and guardian.

Their love is built on a mutual understanding of bitter insecurities, and the feeling of heavy, pitiful loneliness. They understand each other, understood from that moment on the rooftop midst the darkness of a heavy moonlit night, and so together they pushed forward and somewhere along with way . . .

Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere.

Words press heavily against Orihime's teeth as her chest throbs with a warm, heavy sensation that floods her limbs, tickles her fingertips and makes her toes curl. Bruises on her heart from a long 18 months of nothing ache as Rukia smiles tenderly and softly as she always does. Orihime swallows and a concerned frown falls onto the face of the dark-haired woman before it is consumed by lips. I missed you, I missed you, she whimpers into Rukia's mouth after leaning across the table and sucking her into a gentle kiss. Her fingers curl into short ebony strands as she cups Rukia's throat in her palm. Tears are stinging at the corner of her eyes.

The noble woman sighs against her in surprise and something that Orihime hopes, prays, is happiness. The kiss deepens, Rukia's tongue slips into her mouth, and Orihime swears she tastes like green tea and those cucumbers that she loves so much.

I know. The reply comes with an affectionate tug to her auburn hair when they separate and Rukia stares at her with soft, loving lavender. I know.

Orihime isn't sure why she kissed Rukia, but Rukia is precious. Rukia is the bridge that brought friendship and such sweet and tender things.

Shakily, and blushing heavily, Inoue places a hand on her knee and leans in once more.

a/n:

I have no idea; I'm not sure if this makes sense. I just love their dynamic, the understanding they have between them.

Um, yeah. Review, I guess.

— mute button.