Pairing: (One-sided) Renji Abarai x Ichigo Kurosaki, Shinji Hirako x Ichigo Kurosaki

Music: Love Song For No One, by John Mayer

Word count: ~ 3,100

Rating: M

Prompt 7: Opposite

When the doorbell woke him in the early hours of the morning, Ichigo knew quite well who it was.

Shoving back his blankets, he staggered to his feet with a yawn and made his way through the small apartment, tripping over stacks of textbooks left over from his late-night study sessions and barely avoiding walking right over his plate—and how had that ended up on the floor again?—from a dinner that he couldn't even remember. He didn't bother with any lights but the one next to the door, which made him blink sleepily as he threw back the bolt, undid that chain, and let the door swing open. Not bothering to look out—because who else would bother him at two in the morning on a Thursday?—Ichigo turned and tottered back into the living room, waving his visitor in behind him.

"Well?" he demanded grouchily. "What are you waiting for?" Another yawn cut him off, and he aimed himself in the direction of the kitchenette, muttering, "Tea. I need tea. Too goddamned early. Do you want some tea?"

Closing and relocking the door behind him, Renji rolled his eyes at his best friend since childhood. "Sure, Ichigo. Tea is fine. Up late studying again? You know, as a med student, you're supposed to learn that sleep is good for you."

Ichigo waved one hand over his shoulder in what could have been an acknowledgement or the bird, and put the kettle on. "Bastard professor and her forty-page tests," he mumbled, getting out cups and tealeaves. "Three papers due and rotations and a seminar in Kyoto to attend, and she still can't give us a break."

"You're the one who signed up for it," Renji pointed out without mercy, "so all this torture? Voluntary."

This time, it was definitely the bird that Ichigo threw him, along with a nasty glare. As the kettle began to whistle, he poured the hot water into both cups, dropped in the tea, added several spoonfuls honey to Renji's and far less to his own, and staggered back to the couch in the living room, passing his friend one of the mugs. After the first few sips, he was awake enough to actually open his eyes all the way and take in the duffle bag Renji had set next to the table. Having been expecting this, he just rolled his eyes and sighed into his cup.

"I'll get the futon," he muttered. "How long will it take her to cool down this time?"

Sheepishly, Renji scrubbed a hand through his candy-apple red hair. "Eh, forever? She called it quits this time. I kinda…uh, well, slept with her brother."

Ichigo closed his eyes, snapping his teeth shut on all the words that wanted to come pouring out. When he finally had control of himself, he took a deep breath and managed, "Renji?"

The redhead squirmed slightly in his seat, ducking his head. "Yeah?"

"You are an IDIOT!" Ichigo exploded, and the cushion he had formerly been leaning on narrowly missed his friend's mug—and head. "I warned you! I told you not to go out with a girl whose brother is prettier than she is! I told you that it wouldn't end well! And you told me, and I quote, 'Nah, Ichigo, never gonna happen. She's the one, this time. I feel it!' God damn it all, Renji! This always happens!"

Renji sank even further into the cushions, misery clouding his normally cheerful features. "I know, Ichi. I shoulda listened, but Rukia…she was perfect, and I really thought that I would be happy with her for the rest of my life. But then…then Byakuya started to look at me like that, he offered, and I just thought it was gonna be a one-time thing, but then we did it again, and again, and…" He shrugged, almost helplessly. "I…kinda thought he was the one, and I was just confused about her, but then she found out and wanted me to choose, and I couldn't, so she kicked me out."

His anger already fading in the face of Renji's unhappiness, Ichigo sighed and put down his cup, hands rising to rub at his temples in an effort to curb his rapidly growing headache. "And Byakuya?"

If possible, Renji sank even lower. "Seems he's already found his 'one,' and I was just entertainment. They've got an 'open relationship' when one of them is gone, and apparently, the one isn't gone anymore. Got back in the country last night, and Byakuya showed me the door when I turned up."

There was more than enough wretchedness in that statement to silence whatever I-told-you-so's Ichigo might have been withholding, and he sighed again, moving around the table to settle next to his friend and wrap an arm around the redhead's brawny shoulders. He pulled Renji closer, dropping their foreheads together with a soft thunk.

"You moron," he said quietly, closing his eyes against the thoughts of "Why couldn't it be me? Why couldn't you choose me?" that filled his mind. Renji needed more than his stupid, childish infatuation right now, didn't need that extra stress on top of everything else. And there was, of course, absolutely no way that Renji would accept his feelings. If Ichigo had ever held even the barest idea, the slimmest hope, that Renji would, it had been crushed as he watched Renji sleep his way through practically their entire high school class, and then through nearly every eligible—or even ineligible—man or woman who frequented the bars and clubs and grocery stores nearby.

But Ichigo could be a friend, if that was what Renji needed. And he had been for the last twenty years, without dropping even the smallest hint that Renji meant more to him than that. Only one person, out of all of those that knew them, had ever realized, and he had sworn that he wouldn't say anything.

"Come on," he said after several moments of basking in Renji's warmth and closeness, as he reluctantly pulled away. "You need sleep, and I have to be at the hospital in—" he glanced at the clock and winced "—two hours. I'll set the futon up in my room."

"Thanks, Ichi." Renji knocked their foreheads together again, a wry smile twisting his lips. "You're a better friend than I deserve."

No, I'm not. I'm a right bastard, actually, but I'll never let you find out. The words almost escaped, but Ichigo swallowed them at the last moment and snorted to cover the roiling guilt that filled his stomach. "I know. But you can treat me to taiyaki later, and I'll forgive you."

He could see that it was on the tip of Renji's tongue to comment that Ichigo had never liked taiyaki very much, even though it was Renji's favorite food, but he shook it off and nodded, offering Ichigo a weak grin. "And Jinta dares to call me a moocher!" He rolled his eyes at Ichigo's raised brow and relented. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get taiyaki. Thanks, Ichi."

The last was spoken with a thread of warmth that Ichigo greedily wished could be reserved for him alone, but knew wasn't. Renji used it on all close family, people he thought of as family, and young children he was particularly fond of. That hurt, too, that Renji could obviously see him as someone close, but would never see him as close enough to be a lover. Ichigo clenched his hand, digging his fingernails into his palm, even as he smiled at his friend—and, god, wasn't calling him "friend" just driving the knife that much deeper.

Renji would get over this. He always did. But Ichigo didn't know if he would ever get over Renji, and it was killing him a little more each day.

"Sure, Ren-Ren," he teased, falling back onto the childhood nickname that never failed to provoke a reaction. As expected, Renji scowled and threw a pillow at him, and Ichigo laughed as he ducked into the hallway, even though he really felt like crying.

It was midnight before Ichigo dragged himself home, tired fingers barely able to grasp the bag of taiyaki he had picked up at the corner market. The elevator ride up to the seventh floor was nearly enough to put him to sleep, but he maintained a shaky grip on consciousness as he stumbled down the hall to his apartment. It took seven tries to get his keys in the correct locks, but he managed and pushed open the door, kicking his shoes off haphazardly and dropping his messenger bag next to them. No one was waiting, but he had expected that, seeing as it was rapidly approaching one a.m., so he set the taiyaki and his keys on the kitchen counter and headed for his bedroom, wearily rubbing his eyes.

His hand was on the doorknob, and the door itself was halfway open, before he registered the breathy moans and unmistakable groans of two people having sex that came from within.

No. His heart clenched and felt like it was going to drop out the bottom of his stomach as he froze. As if to prove him wrong, the moans grew louder, rising with the soft cry of "Renji!" in a voice that Ichigo recognized, if the dark head jerking with each of Renji's thrusts wasn't clue enough.

Hanataro. That's Hanataro in there. If possible, that hurt even more. Hanataro was a small, kind, soft-spoken florist at the local flower shop, pretty and petite and gentle, and everything it was possible to be that Ichigo was not. That Renji had chosen him—Ichigo's complete opposite—for comfort…

Ichigo felt his heart break all over again.

Carefully, quietly, he shut the door, then turned on his heel and padded back to the front door, picking up the books that he would need for the next day's classes on his way. With quick efficiency, he emptied his messenger bag, repacked it for tomorrow, and slipped his keys back into his pocket. In another moment he was out the door, pulling out his phone as he headed for the elevator once moor.

The person on the other end picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Shinji?" Ichigo cleared his throat, wondering absently why his voice sounded like he had been crying. "Have you gotten off work yet?"

"Just clocked out," Shinji confirmed, sounding suspicious. "What's wrong, Ichi? Where are you?"

Ichigo slumped back against the wall of the elevator, closing his eyes. "Outside my apartment. Renji broke up with his girlfriend yesterday and is staying with me, and…"

"And he brought someone back with him," Shinji finished grimly, well aware of Renji's habits from the stories Ichigo had told him, even if they had never met face to face. "All right, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Wait for me out front. You got everything you need?"

"Yeah." Ichigo's throat closed up, and he barely managed to whisper, "Thanks, Shin. I appreciate it."

He could almost see Shinji's fond smile through the line. "You're welcome, Ichi. If you can't go back tomorrow, Kensei can pick up what you need for the week on his way to work. Don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Sure. See you soon." Ichigo slipped through the doors of the building and settled on the bench there."

"Sit tight, I'm on my way." Shinji hung up, and Ichigo closed his phone, tilting his head back. It was starting to snow, and his breath was forming a frosty cloud in front of his face, but he still wore his coat and scarf. Not even enough time to get that much undressed, he thought with a soft, bitter laugh, scrubbing his hands over his face. Renji, you bastard. Why can't I hate you?

In what felt like no time at all, Shinji's silver Toyota was pulling up to the curb, and he was jumping out, pulling Ichigo up off the bench and grabbing his bag. "Come on, Ichi," he urged gently as he guided Ichigo into the passenger seat. "Let's get you settled and then get some sleep. This'll all feel better in the morning."

Ichigo shook his head, even as he buckled his seatbelt and Shinji eased back out into the light traffic. "No, it won't, Shin," he said desperately, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. "It's been ten years now, and I've had to watch him screw anything with a pulse while I fucking pine for him like a goddamned fairytale princess, and I'm sick of it, Shinji. I want to fall in love with someone who loves me back. I don't want to hurt like this all the time."

Somehow, Shinji's hand found his across the gap, even though the blonde never took his eyes off the road, and he twined his fingers with Ichigo's, gripping hard.

"Someone does love you," he said fervently, "more than you can even imagine. He doesn't want you to hurt anymore, either. Would you…" He cleared his throat, sounding incredibly nervous. "Would you give him a chance, Ichi?"

It felt, suddenly, as though there was more than Ichigo could imagine weighing on his answer. He could almost see the future shifting and trembling, trying to realign but kept from doing so by his stupid stubbornness and inability to move on. Well, screw Renji, and let him screw whomever he wants. I'm fed up with always being the lovesick idiot. I want to be happy for once. He drew in a shuddering breath, and then gripped Shinji's hand tightly in return, leaning across the center console to drop his head onto the blonde's shoulder.

"Yeah," he managed to whisper. "I think I'd like that."

Shinji's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he groaned in frustration. "Not fair! All I want right now is to kiss you, and I can't even do that!"

Involuntarily, a chuckle forced its way out of Ichigo's throat, and he brought their entwined hands up to press against his cheek. "We're not that far away from your house, Shin. You can wait another five minutes, can't you?"

Ichigo felt the smile in Shinji's voice, even as lips feathered over his hair. "Yeah, Ichi. I've been waiting for three years already. I can wait for as long as you need me to."

Nevertheless, the moment they had pulled to a stop in the garage, Shinji reached out and dragged Ichigo over the gap to land awkwardly in his lap, running long pianist's fingers through Ichigo's sunset-bright hair and simply staring up at him with something close to wonder. Then, with a soft huff of released breath, he dropped his head forward to rest against Ichigo's chest, twining his arms around the smaller man's waist.

"You just made me the happiest person in the world," he said, voice muffled by the odd angle. "Thank you, Ichigo. Thank you."

As they sat in silence, pressed together, Ichigo tipped his head back and found a small smile working its way to his lips. How ironic, that Shinji had been in love with him for so long, and he had never noticed, too focused on Renji to see what was in front of his face. But he knew that he could love Shinji, probably very easily. Shinji was Renji's opposite in every way, devoted and faithful and fiercely loyal, slim instead of brawny, always moving with a dancer's exacting, thoughtless grace. Ichigo had known him since the first day of college, when they had both had to defend themselves against a group that didn't like "fags with weird hair" hanging out in their vicinity. The two of them had kicked ass together and ended up friends—but there was always that last bit of distance between them, that final step that Ichigo had never known how to take. Now, though, he could see it, recognize it, and cross it.

They could be lovers.

Something inside Ichigo was ecstatic at the idea.

Lean fingers gripping his chin pulled Ichigo down, and he blinked into smoky grey eyes, watching the smile spread across Shinji's face, as brilliant as dawn. He even found himself returning it, his smile smaller and a bit shyer, but there nonetheless. And then Shinji kissed him, despite the awkward angle, and it was heat and sweetness and the taste of the passionfruit bubblegum that Shinji always chewed at work. Their tongues tangled, caressing and seeking out, mapping and learning, even as their fingers twined and free hands found silky hair, twisting deeply into bright locks.

When they finally drew apart, the windows were fogged over with condensation and they were breathing hard. Shinji resettled his arms around Ichigo's waist and pulled him even closer, his head dropping back to the redhead's shoulder.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he asked quietly. "Just sleep, I mean. I wanna hold you for as long as I can, in case I wake up and this was all just a dream."

Ichigo ran his fingers through the fine blond hair, enjoying the cool-silk feel of it against his skin. His heart twinged at Shinji's words, and he had to admit that that sounded as close to heaven as he could imagine right now—wrapped up in a warm body, loved and cherished and protected from every sorrow the outside world had to offer, even if it was only for one night.

"Sure," he said softly, "but it's not a dream, Shin. You're stuck with me now."

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Shinji assured him, smiling gently as he turned his head and placed a soft kiss against the pulse in Ichigo's throat. "I won't let you go, Ichi. Count on it."

And, because Shinji always told the truth no matter what, Ichigo smiled back and nodded.

Yes. It would be very, very easy to love Shinji.

Somehow, Ichigo thought, he couldn't wait.