Bleach 1. Music and Meetings

**AN:** Sooo I had to take some time away from my story "A Lifetime With You" mostly because it was difficult writing something as emotionally conflicting as that little number. It's draining, trying to balance out my wants and others' as well because, as much as I write for myself, I'd be lying if I said that other people's opinions didn't matter to me to some extent. Their perspectives give me new ways to write my chapters and improve my storytelling overall. But, since it's the holiday season and I wanted fluff for Christmas, this came out. Originally for HitsuKarin, I realized that Ichigo/Rukia would make this short piece a little more interesting and thus they are my main couple (for the first time! Exciting, no?). :)

I hope that everyone reads and enjoys. There is another part, maybe two (if you're a fan of my works, then you know how long my chapters are and how bad I am at sticking with word limits, haha). Please read, review, favorite and alert! Makes my day a little brighter.

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><p><em>Part One: Music and Meetings<em>

Kuchiki Rukia was normal in the all the worst possible ways.

For starters, she was a small, Japanese girl, but she wasn't what people would call 'normal short.' In actuality, she was so small that even middle school kids would mistake her for one of their own. It made her want to harm certain minors, but law clearly stated that nineteen-year-olds did not hurt small children and get away unscathed. So she bit her tongue around those chortling little boys, silently wishing for whatever retribution Kami thought fitting.

Secondly, she was a common college student with no money and debts up to her ears. Despite coming from a well-to-do family, Rukia was anything but spoiled. Early on, she was taught she'd never be waited on by servants simply because they had the means for it. No, the wonderful people that adopted her were as pragmatic as they were wealthy and thus she learned to earn her keep, much like her older brother? Byakuya had funded his way through law school with a combination of scholarships, loans and numerous odd jobs. How he found time to eat, sleep and study was nothing short of awe-inspiring, as he graduated with honors at the end. Unfortunately, his perfection was genetic,so she hadn't been born with such luck. While highly intelligent and capable, her wits wouldn't stand against his genius, and it'd been a hard pill to swallow, knowing that she would have to live up to the Kuchiki namesake.

And, finally, she was average in just about everything else. She was pretty, but not what one would call a great beauty. She was pleasantly fit and slender, but without the womanly curves her friends seemed to have in spades. And while she was rather talented at sports like kendo and martial arts, she couldn't seem to produce anything artistic or innovative other than her masterful pieces of Chappy the Bunny. Obviously, she had only been born with everything in moderation, and it was a pity that the world she resided in was preoccupied with everyone's lives outside their own. She hated those judging eyes whenever her parents forced her to attend a fundraiser or gala, smiling through sweet insults and holding back a rather sarcastic response to save face for her (as they so aptly put it) 'common breeding.'

Perhaps that was why she continued to work part-time in a small music store, the pay meager and the actual work almost non-existent. She chose days that suited her schedule and non-busy times so she could essentially get paid for doing homework. Honestly, Rukia only wanted to rebel a little, show them that their words meant little. She had her pride, after all.

And today was one of those average days, as she sat at the counter, notebook laid across the table and papers sprawled alongside it. Biting the top of her pen, she was doing her best to finish her physics homework, scratching the back of her head before it dropped forward in surrender. She seriously hated general ed classes. She wanted to be a social worker and help people, not figure out how much work a box on a ramp does when applied with how-many Newtons of force.

Sighing dejectedly, she leaned back in her stool, stretching her arms up and scanning the empty store. Despite the fact that the little music shop was on a fairly popular street, there weren't many customers during her shift. To be honest, it didn't have many visitors other than its regulars and desperate gift seekers who went anywhere to find something particularly elusive. One could tell from the outside that this specific place wasn't made for the masses who liked their idols and pop singers. Instead, it tended to lean towards more alternative music and punk rock, genres that were pushed to the edges of major record shops. However, her manager, Urahara Kisuke, had a penchant for just about anything non-mainstream, and so this store was born from that whim. How he kept it open in spite of the modest sales was a complete mystery to her.

So here she was, all alone and likely to go without a buyer until the day ended. She was closing at nine o'clock but it was only five. Rukia had plenty of time to waste and not nearly enough to do. Despite her assignment, she'd be done within the hour with little else to distract her. Maybe she'd clean. Her parents had always told her she would go stir-crazy as a child, but nowadays she thought of it more along the lines of adult ADHD. If she didn't do something, she'd be driven nuts by the quiet.

Trying to bring herself to finish the problems, Rukia took a drincrazy re soda and flipped through her notes. Honestly, all she needed to know was that she'd stay rooted to the ground by gravity and that there would always be friction in the universe to prevent random slip and slides. Nothing else was really of importance.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by a figure coming through the front door, bells jingling in welcome. Lifting her head and greeting the customer, her voice was cut off a little at the end, as she eyed the suspicious character.

The other was tall, masculine in stance despite his entire self covered. His was face hiding in the shadow of his black sweater, the hood pulled over despite the warm weather outside. His hands were shoved into his pockets and, if she wasn't mistaken, a large pair of expensive looking sunglasses were perched on his nose. The entirety of him was decidedly out of place in the fluorescent lighting.

_Who the hell does this guy think he is?_ she wondered, frowning and watching him stride about the shelves. His moves were purposeful and precise. Within minutes he was at the register, her schoolwork still spread recklessly across it. She wondered what he thought of her work area, but his persistent scowl gave nothing away.

"Did you find everything okay, sir?" she asked, smiling in her 'customer service' way as she took his CD. Not being able to help herself, she noticed he had picked an indie rock group that she herself was quite fond of. "Ah, I have this! It's really good. I got it when it was first released last year. I highly recommend track three, especially if you—"

"Could you please just ring this up?" the stranger growled, his lips turning even deeper. She hadn't thought it was possible, but it seemed that common courtesy wasn't common as she thought. Unfortunately for him, she was hardly a pushover; where another person would turn away or apologize, she confronted the other with her own hardheadedness.

"I know I might be some girl working as a cashier, sir, but you have no right to speak down to me." He was at least a foot taller than her, and yet she managed to hold herself so she looked much larger. "Besides, coming from a guy who seems like he's about to rob the store, couldn't you at least make some small talk? Even a _nod _would do."

"Look, kid, I know high school is tough, but you shouldn't be lecturing someone on etiquette when you're not exactly being a great pleasant person yourself."

"Did you just call me a 'high schooler'?" Her voice was deceptively even, but her anger was noticeable to anyone with eyes. Unfortunately, the man in front of her seemed to be blinded by his own glasses.

"Aren't you? You're like, this big." He made a space with his thumb and index finger a centimeter apart.

Her eyebrow twitched for a moment, just before her patience bit the dust. "How dare you assume you know anything about me!"

He seemed to understand how insulted she was—though it was too late now—and took two back steps defensively. "I've met a lot of assholes in my lifetime, buddy, but not one of them has ever been as stupid as you! You stride in here, dressed in black and looking like a douchebag, and then demand service when I'm already giving you a smile. Who do you think you are? Just because that attitude might get things done with other people, it won't work on those of us who have at least half a brain, you jerk!"

Taking the CD and cash, she opened and closed the register in record time, shoved the change into a plastic bag and threw it at the other's form. He let out an indignant yell, opening his mouth to say something bdrop nought better of it.

Rukia couldn't help but give her 'well wishes' on his way out. "And don't come back until you've learned to be a decent human being, asshole!"

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><p>It was two weeks after the incident with the 'hooded weirdo', as Rukia so delicately put it, and eventually she'd forgotten it for the most part. On occasion, it would peek into her head, remembering his presence in the silence of the store. She hadn't thought there was a Japanese person who didn't have an ounce of good will for others. Obviously she sat among the minority of youth.<p>

With her literature homework now taking up the counter, she read diligently, trying to fill in the gaps in the book's plot. It wasn't difficult reading, but her professor's questions were always in-depth and required analyzing that was beyond normal. She'd never understand how that old man worked. But then the chiming of the bell was heard, as she greeted the visitor with her nose half-buried in her text.

"For someone who preaches good manners, you use yours sparingly."

Shooting up so fast it gave her whiplash, Rukia looked at a familiar face. Well as familiar as he could be, since it was covered with those over-sized sunglasses again. It made her glower harder.

"And I see you still get dressed in the dark," she replied, eyeing him with condescension she was known for. Happily she noticed how it got to him so easily.

"Look, I didn't come here for this," he replied, shuffling awkwardly in place. He didn't look particularly nervous but was still antsy, as if he needed to get in and out as quickly as possible.

"Oh really? Then tell me, _sir_, what is it you've come for?" Sarcasm dripped from the title.

"God, you're frustrating…" he muttered before pulling something out of his pocket and placing it on the counter. Looking at it, she raised her brows at the album from the band she had been talking about last time. Squinting at it, she deemed it foreign. But the second she got a good look at its cover, Rukia screamed.

"This is their fourth album!" She jumped up and down, fingering the casing before looking over the song list. When she realized what she was fangirling, Rukia calmed down enough to reign in the volume of her voice. "But I was sure that this didn't come out for another month…"

Putting her excitement aside, she eyed the man carefully, distrustfully. Despite the olive branch, Rukia still wasn't conwasted about his intentions. What would a guy like him be doing with something as rare as this?

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "Look, I know some people that know some people. Let's leave it at that."

"And why, pray tell, would you bring it here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he said it with heat, but there was more color in his face than his words. For all his covering, he was surprisingly transparent under the right circumstances. It eased some of her restlessness.

"I see…" She felt the edges of her lips lift, actually meaning the smile. "Well, thanks. This was really nice of you." And while she knew it would have been best to accept the CD and let him leave, something was still nagging her as she assessed his appearance. She just couldn't help the question that fell from her lips next. "Why are you dressed like a hoodlum whenever I see you?"

"… Did you really just ask me that?" His voice wasn't particularly emotional, but there was a sigh of exasperation there. Eyes widening, she finally registered what left her mouth and began to apologize, bowing and blushing hotly.

"I'm sorry! I mean, I didn't- I hadn't meant that the way it sounded!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." He waved it away, shaking his head. Her heart fell as she realized he was trying to be the nice guy here and let her off the hook. It made the guilt gnaw at her insides.

"Look, please, let me make it up to you," she offered, unconsciously leaning over the counter to grab his sleeve. He looked over at her, his amusement over her earnestness hidden behind the reflective lenses.

"Look, it's okay, um…"

"Rukia. Kuchiki Rukia," she said, loosening her fingers when he didn't pull away, sliding back across the counter. Really, she needed to remember to wear higher shoes because she had trouble feeling for the tile.

"Rukia, then," he nodded, using her first name without her consent. She would've corrected him, but had the distinct feeling he'd ignore her. "I just came here to say I'm sorry, you know, for being a jerk last week. I'm not the nicest person, but that time was really bad. So don't worry about it and let's just call us even."

"Okay," she agreed, smiling softly at him. He gave her a wave, moving towards the door again, when she called out to him.

"Hey! I never got your name."

He stopped and paused for a moment, as if thinking about a proper response She stared at him hard, frowning at his silence. What was so difficult about a name? She'd given hers without hesitation, but he held onto his like a well-kept secret. It seemed entirely unfair. But finally, after a minute of silence, he answered.

"You can call me Kurosaki."

And then he was gone.

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><p>For the next week, Rukia was bothered by the 'music store stranger' (as she now had dubbed him) and his underwhelming exit. She'd stewed and steamed and fretted over it, restless to know who he was. She'd met few people in her life that had introduced himself so rudely and then changed her opinion of him as this 'Kurosaki' did. And if there was anything that bothered Rukia more than a bad pop song on an otherwise great day, it was a mystery that went unsolved.<p>

So she waited, since it was the only 'logical' thing to do. Wait for the no-faced guy who was strangely sweet and sour and a bunch of other objectives she had yet to figure out. Not that she wanted to, of course. She was merely trying to satisfy this hunger in her head, nothing more and nothing less.

But it was a rather useless way to pass her time. He didn't show up the next day or the following week, until nearly a month went by without seeing neither hide nor hair of him. It was a frustrating thing to linger at the end of her shift and show up early to a surprised Urahara-san, who remarked her punctuality was border-lining obsessive-compulsive. And while she took the comment with a laugh and scratch of her head, her inner self was seething. No man had ever left Kuchiki Rukia in such a state. He would pay when she saw him. Not 'if' but 'when' because she didn't believe in coincidences, and their rather bizarre start was certainly nothing if not fate.

By this time, the day was now long passed its dawn, her shift also drawing to a close. For once, none of her documents were littering the counter, her boredom palpable. And it was yet another day without the mysterious stranger, which made her even more irritable than usual. She ended up cursing one of her good friends over the phone over something trivial, and wasn't particularly pleasant to any of the few customers she'd had, despite her hardest efforts to be civil.

Urahara had attempted to send her home early, for his own sake as well as hers, but she refused. How pathetic would she seem if she couldn't hold down one lousy job? Reluctantly, the sandal-clad owner decided to leave the store in her hands after a rather persuasive speech from her. Both of them knew he was slightly terrified of angry-without-reason Rukia and departed to save his own neck. At least both parties were eelatively happy in the end.

About fifteen minutes until nine, she began to do her rounds, checking windows and doors, as well as cleaning the few messes that had occurred. Very little was moved and inventory had been done in the late afternoon when it was busier, so there was really nothing else to do other than close shop. As she gathered her things in the back and grabbed the key from a hook in the office, she sighed to herself in a melancholy sort of way.

While Rukia knew she had no right to be disappointed, she was. It felt like rejection, and it perturbed her that she was so easily knocked off balance by a random guy. Her friends would never let her live it down if they knew, so she made a note to never tell them, no matter how much it was eating at her. As she made sure to lock the office, she moved back towards the front but halted when she came across a familiar silhouette.

"Hey, Rukia. Long time no see," the Music Store Stranger said, waving his hand a bit and looking as awkward as she felt. Suddenly, all that old, diffused anger was back in her system, and this time it brought company.

"_You!_" She pointed at him accusingly, one hand preventing the bag on her shoulder from falling while her face contorted into something dark. It must have been quite a sight because he stumbled back a step, looking sheepish in spite of his hidden face. Damn him, didn't he own any other clothing? "Why the hell are you here? Better yet, what took you so long?"

"'Took me so long'?" he repeated, confusion evident in his voice. Rukia nearly blushed, the comment giving too much away. She sputtered back in retaliation.

"I mean, you haven't been here at all. I assumed you'd become a regular." _That's right, business, Kuchiki, business. _She'd never been a great liar, but he didn't know that. Besides, this Kurosaki character didn't seem too bright to begin with.

"I don't think twice is enough to assume anything." Ah, she loved being right. Men were so easy, especially the obnoxiously dressed, arrogan ones.

"We even exchanged names. Forgive me if that means something to some people," she argued, but then realized her mistake. She had introduced herself, but not necessarily the other way around. And then it brought a completely different thought. "Hey, why are you here so late anyway?"

"I can't stop by when I feel like it?"

"Of course, but you should probably 'feel like it' during the hours between eight AM and nine PM. You're delaying my dinner."

"Ah, is that so?" He shuffled, looking almost nervous as he fidgeted. "Then maybe I should come back…"

"No!" Rukia cringed at her voice, sounding much too desperate, as if she'd been waiting for him. And even if she had been, she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing it. So she evened out her tone, demonstrating that almost sugar-sweet lilt she like to use to fake her way out of something. "I mean, no, you're here now. You should finish whatever it is that you want. I mean, who knows the next time we'll be able to meet?"

"Okay, first things first, stop talking like that. It's creeping me out," he started, lips turning into a frown. "Your Japanese went from totally normal to some odd mix between the kind used in historical dramas and grossly polite. And that tone? Weirdest shit ever."

"Coming from the guy who only dresses in hoodies and sunglasses when there's no sun pretty much means your opinion doesn't matter!" she retaliated, letting go of her civility and going straight for the throat. "Besides, you didn't even have the decency to tell me your whole name the last time you were here! And you have the audacity to call me weird? _Pfft_."

They engaged in a staring match, her dark eyes narrowed dangerously despite her sweet face. It annoyed her that all she could see was herself reflected back. A part of her wanted to punch him so the glasses would fall off, not to mention give her a bit of satisfaction.

"Look, this is stupid." He startled her out of the silence, hand reaching back as if to run it through his hair. But when he came across his hood, it seemed to only irritate him further. "I only came here to see if you wanted to go with me to this."

He produced two tickets that she took, reading over the characters curiously. As she recognized what they were, her eyes began to widen, her mouth falling open in surprise and eventually spreading across her face with glee.

"This is- When did- _How _did you get these?" she stammered ove herself, as she fought the need to bounce on her heels.

"I know a guy" was his only response. In her hands were tickets to Death to the Party's private club tour, the band they'd been discussing his last two visits. While the group was proudly and very much indie, their following was fierce enough that tickets to their events sold out as fast as any major idol group's, though the venues were much smaller. She had been trying to get tickets to one of their gigs, but had come out empty-handed too many times. And now here they were, presented in the most peculiar fashion, and she was ecstatic.

"So… do you wanna go or not?" he asked, impatient because of her quiet mooning. She could only nod in acquiescence, her head bobbing so quickly that her neck started to hurt. But then she stopped, looked at the tickets and then the giver.

"I'll go... but only if you show me that face of yours."

"Do we really have to do this now?" he sighed, exasperated by her tenacity. For someone so short, she sure had a lot of spunk. Almost too much and certainly more than enough to get her in trouble.

"Yes, we do." The finality didn't go unnoticed.

If Rukia could see his features clearly, she'd find he had a rather pensive face on, unsure of his next move. But it was a legitimate request, especially since she'd have to see his face eventually. He just wasn't quite sure they could still be friends after seeing her reaction. Many former almost-friendships hadn't lasted because of it.

"Fine, but promise me," he warned, looking and sounding gravely serious, "that you won't hold it against me afterwards."

"Fine, fine." She didn't hesitate in the slightest. She'd seen some strange characters in her life, and their appearances matched them to a tee. Her best friend since childhood, Renji, had tattoos on his face, her professor, Ukitake-sensei, had long, bleached white hair that matched his sickly appearance and even her uptight, as-straight-laced-as-they-come brother Byakuya ran around with a floor-length scarf and some weird crimped hairpiece every day. There were few things in the world that could shock her appearance-wise. She had no doubt that he'd be no exception.

"All right…" he said, accepting of her brash insincerity. This girl didn't seem like the type for flowery words anyway. A little bit of sympathy probably would've been as awkward as her fake politeness.

Rukia watched as he pushed his head down, taking off the glasses and pocketing them thereafter. As she stared, something inside was telling her to hold her breath in anticipation, but she deemed it girly and over dramatic. This wasn't a play. He wasn't some prince who was going to sweep her off her feet and steal her away from her boring life. No, she was much too realistic and yet she could still feel the quick hammering of her heart as he lifted his hood and looked straight at her.

And Rukia was silent.

Rather than some deformed trait or the like, she looked into one of the single-most perfect faces she'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. The boy known as Kurosaki had an angled jaw that was perfectly tempered by infinitely high cheekbones. A pair of amber brown eyes was complimented by the shock of orange hair, the color much too clean and even to be unnatural. He certainly didn't look like a hoodlum or a thug, at least not in that conventional way. Though formidable, there was something incredibly endearing about him that counteracted his handsomeness. And somehow, she couldn't shake that fairytale music playing in her head.

"So, yeah…" was his response, reaching up to scratch his head with a downturn of his lips. He didn't make eye contact, but he looked to be waiting for a reaction. She wasn't sure what kind to give. So, she went her usual route.

"That's it?" Her voice dripped overconfidence, despite her frazzled nerves. But she wasn't going to freak out just because he was hot. If anything, this was the best possible scenario she could have gotten! She wasn't even sure why he was so worried to begin with.

"Whaddya mean 'that's it'?" he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I mean, you've played dress up three times now and you don't got anything even morbidly scarring, nor are you missing any important parts. What, should I be impressed?" _Because I am_, she thought, but fought it. Not the time or place for her hormones to take over.

"You don't, you know… _know me_?" His voice distressed the last two words and inwardly she panicked. Was she supposed to know him? Was he a guy in one of her classes or something? Wracking her brain for any piece of info, she was coming up blank. No, Rukia would have definitely remembered a face like his, if for no other reason than the fact that it was flawless and he was as model-esque in stature as they come. She was the type that was unwillingly weak to pretty boys.

"No… Should I?" Sounding as curious as she could, she hoped it would be enough to appease him. But she truly had no idea who this Kurosaki was, other than the guy who was as ill-mannered as he was adorable. It was a hard combination to forget.

Taking in his wide eyes and unhinged jaw, Rukia felt like the butt of a very un-funny joke. She took the defensive, pouting angrily and crossing her arms in front of her. It took him another second to regain his composure, but it came together without a thought, as if he was used to acting dignified in front of people he didn't know. It made her suspicious because she recognized that skill. She herself was a master of it.

"Well, Kurosaki, if you're just gonna be an asshole, then maybe we should forget this whole thing." It pained her to say the words, but she knew she couldn't hang out with a guy that thought she was insane. As much as she wanted to go to the live, she didn't like the idea of being in uncomfortable company or owing him a favor.

"No, I mean, sorry, Rukia. I was just expecting…" he stopped mid-sentence, and her heart skipped a bit at the sound of her name. Really, she needed a life if she was this easily riled. He couldn't have been much older than her, and yet she felt like a high school girl whenever he spoke it. Pathetic.

His thoughtful look seemed to transform into a determined one, his eyes hardening with a sureness she hadn't been expecting. "You know what, forget it. It's nothing. I was just being stupid."

When he met her eyes, this time they looked a little relieved and maybe just a bit silly with happiness. She wasn't sure what caused it, but the effect his stare had was potent. Her face was starting to heat and her heart was dancing rhythmic gymnastics in her chest, cart-wheeling happily. It was the sort of look that belonged on a face like his, the kind, almost innocent look that would cause most girls to fall to their knees.

"So, I'll see you next Saturday?" He interrupted her thoughts, as she shook her head from the haze. _Focus, Kuchiki, focus. Do not shut down!_ Her mind yelled obscenities at her, as she grinned in agreement. He motioned a goodbye, placing his glasses back on and pulling the hood over his head. She almost called him out on it again before she realized she was missing something vital.

"Oi, Kurosaki!" she yelled, grabbing the door just as he began walking down the empty street. He turned back to her, head tilted in question. She almost blanched in embarrassment at the question she was about to ask. "What's your full name?"

He was silent at first, frowning, but then chuckled as he turned his back to her.

"Ichigo, Kurosaki Ichigo."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Ahh, that was fun! I love boy-meets-girl kind of stories. They always feel a little fresh, no matter how many times it's used or how many scenarios are thought up. I hope you enjoyed! And for those who are wondering, there will be a tiny bit of HitsuKarin in the next part and most likely a ficlet featuring them after I finish this one. I am so easily swept aside by my OTP's. Haha!

Please review if you enjoyed. They feed my muses and make me smile. :)


	2. Concert and Confessions

**AN:** I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas and will have a very happy new year too. Other than the usual boring family stuff, not much has happened on my end. But, I have been writing quite a bit, which is always exciting. So, without further ado, I present the second half of this story.

Enjoy!

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><p>For the next week, Rukia had the strangest craving for strawberries. It was just the weirdest thing to her. She'd had no personal preference or aversion for it before, and yet now here she was, always in the mood to have some. A truly complex conundrum, her friends commented with interest, bemused by her new obsession.<p>

"What happened? Did you fall in love with strawberries over the weekend?" asked a confused Sentaro.

"Are you having a food fad? People have it sometimes you know, but it usually happens when you're a toddler and not a young adult," said a curious Isane.

"Oi, you pregnant, Rukia? I swear that's all I see you eat," commented an idiotic Renji, who then earned an upper cut to the face for his comment. A part of her prayed that she broke his jaw, teaching him a lesson he should've learned a long time ago.

But her answer to his question was 'no', her reason for the munchies much too simple and stupid, but refusing to say it out loud. Her Kuchiki pride was strong, and even though she protested it on occasion, this certainly wasn't the time to start, unless she wanted to be the butt of every joke for the next five months. Rukia knew exactly what this was: she was falling for a guy she didn't even know.

And over what? A new CD? Awesome concert tickets? The fact that he looked like someone carved out of marble and come to life? It was all so pitifully shallow that she couldn't bring herself to admit she was crushing, especially not to her friends who knew her as the overly sensible, almost critically realistic type.

So, she promised herself that he would stay her dirty little secret, hidden deep down in her subconscious and out of plain sight. Hopefully she was just in a phase. After all, no one really fell in love with a man they barely knew, nor did they do so as quickly as she did. This infatuation would end as soon as it started and perhaps, she'd get to make a real, long lasting friend.

She just had to keep saying it until it stuck.

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><p>When Saturday rolled in, Rukia had outfitted herself for a good time.<p>

An old band shirt she had bought ages ago was modified with rips and tears, self-made and meticulously done, baring just the slightest bit of her stomach. She wore the shirt with combat boots and jean shorts, making sure she looked the part of the groupie. And, despite her inward cringing, she had even paid attention to her make-up, looking a little softer and more feminine that she was used to.

Waiting in front of the venue, she was impatiently watching out for Ichigo, mindlessly checking her phone every few seconds. Though he had no idea, Rukia liked to call him by his first name whenever she thought of him (and those were selectively seldom, of course). But, she wasn't sure if he'd mind her using it with him, even though he'd used hers so naturally from the beginning. Shrugging it off, she decided to discuss it with Ichigo later. If they were ever going to be real friends, then stuff like that needed to be written into rules before certain habits were set.

Rukia checked the clock again, noticing how the front of the club was emptying swiftly, most of the patrons already inside and preparing for the show. Her anxiety was starting to climb, and vaguely she couldn't help but speculate if she was being stood up. Her ticket was in her hand, ready to be accepted for entrance, and yet he was nowhere in sight.

_Dammit, where the hell is he?_ she asked herself, becoming angry as a little more time ticked by. She made a decision within seconds. Five minutes, that's as long as she'd give him. If not, then she was going in there and having the time of her life by herself and using her fake ID to buy enough alcohol so she wouldn't recognize his face tomorrow.

"Hey! _Rukia!_" _Oh, so _now_ he comes._ She did her best to look as irritated as possible, but the relief was still tangible inside her. When she turned to see him, her breath caught in the most clichéd way that it almost made her head spin. He jogged towards her, dressed in a pair of jeans and, to her surprise, the same shirt she wore, only in a larger men's size. He halted beside her, hands on his knees and crouched.

"Idiot! Where have you been?" She tried not to think about how easy it was to call him out.

"Sorry. My job went into overtime," he panted, drawing himself up and looking down at her. She nodded, accepting, but then looked at her watch and saw the time.

"Less talk-y, more walk-y!" Rukia grabbed his arm and pulled him in, his protests falling on deaf ears. There was no way he was going to make her miss the opening number, nor was she not going to get a good spot. He had delayed her long enough.

Inside, the vintage-styled room was already sweltering, filled to the brim with other excited fans, alternative rock music playing in the background. Her eyes dazzled, taking in the small stage and cramped crowd with a grin. Something caught her attention to her left, where she found Ichigo with two drinks in his hands, a beer and a soda. He handed her the latter without a thought.

"The hell?" she asked, taking it and eyeing the thing offensively. His omniscient eyes told her that he knew she was underage, if just barely, and he wasn't going to have any drunk teenagers on his hands. While irritating, she was impressed by his sense of responsibility, and at the same time wondered why he even invited her if he knew she wasn't exactly legal. Well, she wasn't about to bring it up in conversation, not now at least, and took a large swig before grabbing his hand this time and dragging him into the sea of people.

And eventually the stage filled, four members each on their own instrument. Who stood out was the white-haired main vocalist with his guitar sitting along his front, introducing the band to their adoring audience. Without trying, her heart began to palpate, eyes meeting his by accident. Hitsugaya Toushirou was her hero, and anyone who knew her well enough knew that fact too. The deep, silky smooth tone of his talking voice completely disappeared when he sang, falling into something even more entrancing than the most addictive drugs. She was enamored, and it showed visibly on her face.

The show was like a build-up of energy, starting off on a high note and steadily gaining steam. To prevent any lulls in the overall flow, slow songs were transitioned into carefully so that there was no hesitation. And while the talks were few, they were meaningful, an interactive part that Rukia took great interest in, even though she couldn't always hear or see over those who towered over her. That was when Ichigo would step in, moving closer to her and finding her an area that was more friendly for those who were height challenged. He'd lead her with a hand on her back, pushing gently but protectively, making sure not to jostle her or anyone else too much. He was entirely too gentle for someone with such a fierce face.

When they reached the last song, she knew that their closing for the two-hour set would be her favorite, one from their sophomore album that had launched her addiction in the first place. Her heart felt light with elation, as she bounced on the balls of her feet, screaming lyrics along with the rest of the crowd. Even the keenly composed Ichigo let his hair down a little, mouth the words and moving to the beat much more gracefully than she thought he would. It seemed that tonight was full of surprises.

When it ended, the atmosphere didn't die, instead transforming into the bar and lounge it was meant to be. Some left, but most stayed to mingle and talk about the concert, praises punctuated by loud cheers and half-drunk comments. Not sure what to do now, Rukia moved to ask Ichigo but found that he had disappeared into the crowd. Irritably, she wondered where he went and why he'd abandoned her, completely left to fend for herself. It was very different from his earlier attitude, when he protected her without a second thought, manhandling just about anyone who got too close for comfort. He wasn't within her eyesight's range, as she stood on her tiptoes to see if he'd just been misplaced by the crowd. Maybe now that the live was over, he and her would go their separate ways, as they had done so before. The thought caused emotion to tighten in her chest, feeling angry at nothing in particular. But she had always hated feeling foolish.

Gathering her things, Rukia moved towards the exit, deciding that she might as well end the night while the good memories were still fresh. She'd be better in the morning as she recounted the concert, carefully omitting anyone with bright colored hair and strong hands from the thoughts. At least she could choose to remember it as a flawless experience, leaving none of the ambivalence he'd unwittingly given her. As she pushed herself apart from the lingering fans, Rukia was pulled by the shoulder and spun backwards, eyes coming up to hazel-brown ones.

"Hey, where were you going?" Ichigo asked, looking confused by her departure.

"I thought you were gone, so I was gonna bail." She didn't even try to lie. There was no shame in admitting it; he had abandoned her for a while, so it could be assumed that he'd been heading home himself.

"I wouldn't do that," he frowned, voice definite and almost offended by her accusation. And while she was glad he hadn't intended to just run out on her, Rukia's patience for him was starting to get testy again. She didn't like that she felt as if she was at fault when it was so obviously the other way around.

"While that's good to know, maybe we should call it a night. You work, right? Don't you have any tomorrow?"

"No, I took the day off." He scoffed, eyes narrowing when he realized what she was trying to do. "Look, I want you to meet a few friends of mine. They're here and that's who I was talking to when I lost you in the crowd. Just come and say hi."

"Wait, Ichigo—" But she was already being dragged back into the sea of bodies and towards the stage, his grip firm and unrelenting. A part of her was curious if he did this often, dragging other people around to keep up with his pace. Personally, she didn't quite like the way he handled things, all rushed and brash in execution. She was going to tell him so, but then they arrived at the entrance leading to the backstage dressing rooms and her heart began to pound wildly in her chest.

"Where are we going?" she asked, eyes wide as she passed a make-up artist and stylist, as well as a few roadies moving gear out through the back exit. It wasn't a particularly large area, so the few that were there congested the space, taking up more room than what it could actually accommodate.

"I already told you, I'm introducing you to some friends of mine."

"And who exactly are these 'friends'?" She hoped she didn't sound as desperate as she thought she did.

"If you haven't guessed by now, then you can just wait until we get there." _Oh dear God, please don't tell me…_

"Oi, Kurosaki, you're back!" a familiar faced drummer said, as he lounged on the couch and sipped the bottled water in his hand. If it was physically possible, Rukia knew her eyes would've popped out of her head before rebounding off the walls, as her companion and the rocker talked casually.

She scanned three of _Death to the Party_'s members, gaze falling on each of them in a mix of complete shock and utter excitement. The percussion man in question was Madarame Ikkaku, known for his bad boy attitude and quick temper, as well as that shaved head of his. Near one of the mirrors was his best friend, the pianist Yumichika Ayasegawa, checking the painted feathers along his eye and looking pleased. His prettiness made her stomach flop, as she found that he really was more beautiful than a girl in person, her awe of him wringing in her chest. The third member was in the corner, checking his phone with the most serious expression on his face. Hisagi Shuhei was the main bass player and back-up guitarist, known for his staunch, up-standing character despite his prominent role in the independent rock scene.

As she took their forms in, Rukia could feel the lightheadedness begin to settle into her foggy mind. She wondered if this was some sort of amazing dream and she was going to wake up at her desk in her apartment, homework spilled to the floor and the remnants of an energy drink at her side. It would certainly explain this wild delusion and then some. So caught up in her whirlwind of inner fangirling and suspected moment of insanity, she didn't even notice who had stepped into the room behind her. Luckily for her, Ichigo did.

"Oi, Toushirou, you're back. Great job tonight."

"It's Hitsugaya to you." And then her heart started to fibrillate in her ribcage, successfully short circuiting without ceremony. If one could call Ichigo devilishly attractive, then Hitsugaya was definitely mind-numbingly beautiful. While considerably smaller than the statuesque older man, his white-haired counterpart made up for it with icy charisma and a voice that could seduce even the most loyal servers of God from their promises. He was born from the stuff that harbored perfection, and she had been totally taken by him since the beginning of her obsession.

"Don't be like that, Toushirou. We've been friends for years." That piqued Rukia's attention, as wide eyes went between her new friend and the main singer. Somehow, the relation was strange but very fitting. They gave off the right kind of aura that spoke volumes, a closeness that had lasted longer than either of them had intended.

"It's not by choice, I assure you."

"Even I know that much. You hang around just to see Karin, and we both know it." _Who's Karin?_ The question sat on Rukia's lips, but the transparently annoyed glare from Hitsugaya made her stop from asking. She could've sworn she heard a bit of bite in Ichigo's voice, but it was so subtle that she couldn't be sure. Obviously she must have been someone important but a rather touchy subject between the two of them.

"Did someone say my name?"

All eyes went to the door, and a girl looking not much younger than Rukia herself was there and dressed in concert attire. Her maternal instincts kicked in and she began to ponder who let people into this club if a mere eighteen year old could just waltz in, never mind that she herself was only a year older.

Just looking at the new girl and her pretty face, Rukia had a feeling that this 'Karin' was related to the Kurosaki at her side, not because of something superficial but because of an internal fire that was hosted inside her. It was something in the way she stood, the way the air turned about her, those ever-displeased eyes that seemed to know much more than they let on, they were all much too similar to his to be coincidence. Taking in her maturing face, it left Rukia feeling strangely young, her own childish in comparison.

"Oh, Karin, you were here too?" Ichigo asked, surprised to see her.

"Yeah, Yumichika gave me some tickets and an ID to get in," she nodded towards the dark-haired man, smiling just a bit in thanks. If Rukia didn't know any better, he seemed to be sharing knowing looks with Ikkaku and Shuhei out of the corner of his eyes, the two of them looking far more interested in the conversation now that Karin had arrived. While Rukia tried not to read too far into it, the feeling of conspiracy was definitely there.

"Aren't you a little _young_ to be here?" This time it was Hitsugaya who spoke, turning towards her with his arms crossed over her chest. As if a mysterious force had come down on them, the atmosphere within the room changed, charging itself with quiet challenge. Looking up at Ichigo, he met her with a press of his finger to his lips, a sign to keep silent, and if she didn't know any better, it was accompanied with the smallest flicker of amusement.

"Aren't you too boring to be the leader of a rock band?" Her sarcasm was definitely familiar, enunciated in the same way as the orange-haired man's; Rukia recognized it because the majority of their dialogues were in that tone. If these two weren't related, then she'd eat her ticket stub.

"No one asked you for your opinion."

"Yeah, well no one asked you to be born and yet you're still here, aren't you?" Mouth falling open, Rukia could hear the raucous laughter of the boy's band mates, howling with amusement and encouragement for the young girl. But if Rukia was allowed to voice her opinion, she'd say that all of this seemed to play out like a well-worn pattern, her eyes darting between the two in question. While the girl known as Karin was smug, there was no anger in her opponent's face, just mild irritation and a faint bit of resignation. No, this was definitely _not_ their first battle.

"It's a little late passed your bedtime, Kurosaki. Have your brother escort you home," he countered, walking over to the couch and taking a seat, flippantly dismissing her. Unfortunately, it only further riled up the obsidian-colored girl, irises flashing at his impertinence. If they were any less civilized, Rukia thought they might actually physically fight.

"Don't tell me what to do! Just because you're some hotshot singer you think I'm just gonna bow to your whims?" Her scoff was childish in voice, but her face was darkened with anger. The older girl recognized it as a personal trait she had herself, the kind that hated being seen as too young and therefore underestimated. It seemed that Karin was fighting for more than just equal footing with the older man, but what it was she didn't think the other girl knew herself.

"If I could get you to stop coming to every concert, that would be more than enough for me."

"Then tell your friends to stop inviting me! I swear, they only do this to piss me off!"

"That's not true," Ayasegawa interrupted, flicking a piece of hair behind his ear gracefully. "We do it to piss off Hitsugaya, not you. Lord knows why a teenage girl gets to him more than any one of us does."

"I know why," Ichigo butted in, his lips in a full-on smirk but with a bit of mystery mixed in. He looked so playful, so interested in their game that his eyes shone like dark diamonds. She'd never seen much emotion in him before tonight, but now she didn't think she'd be able to forget even one of them.

"Oh really? Tell me." It was definitely an order, not a suggestion.

"Don't say anything, Kurosaki. You and I both know you're just guessing about things you don't understand." On the other hand, Hitsugaya's was most certainly a command, eyes promising painful death if his words weren't heeded. So Ichigo decided to keep his mouth shut, not out of fear for the other but his own amusement instead. That, and both he and Toushirou knew he was going to hold this over his head for as long as he could, savoring his victory over the younger man.

"Hey, who are you?" It was Karin's voice who broke her reverie, pulling Rukia's gaze from the silent war between the two men and turning towards the other girl with an interested look. There wasn't any disapproval or animosity, but the wariness in her eyes spoke volumes. What it was for, Rukia didn't have to slightest idea.

"Ah, I'm Kuchiki Rukia. I came here with Ichigo."

"Ichi-nii?" Her eyes turned distrustful then, as if sizing up her pint-sized frame. It made her uncomfortable, but nothing she couldn't handle. She'd been dealt stricter and scarier opponents.

"Oh yeah. I never got around to introducing you. Rukia, my little sister Karin. Karin, Rukia." To say it was rushed would be an understatement. Perhaps introductions just didn't occur in the Kurosaki household because it seemed that Ichigo had never been well-trained in any of the artful manners that most seemed to know. Or maybe she was too conscious of them because of her upbringing. No, she preferred the former.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rukia said, smiling as naturally as she could, despite the obvious suspicion in Karin's eyes. Her only response was a nod, courteous but quick, precise so as not to give anything away. And again, Rukia felt as if she was missing something crucial about the Kurosaki clan.

"Likewise." But she didn't sound all that happy.

"Excuse Karin. She was born with a monotonous voice and very few emotions," Ichigo pardoned, glaring at his sister willfully. Rukia couldn't help but think that this was a change of pace, having the wild and crazy strawberry apologize for his sister's lack of social etiquette. A complete 180, if she'd ever seen one.

"No, it's alright. I'm not really exciting company is all."

"Don't try and make excuses for her, midget."

A vein just above her eyebrow began to twitch. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" A smirk.

"What would you know, fool!" A swift kick to the shin was her answer, a smile filling her face when Ichigo had to grab it, clutching it with both hands and hopping on the other for balance. It incited comments from the rest of their spectators, howling laughter and sly grins shooting his way.

"Kurosaki just got owned by a girl half his size! Greatest. Thing. _EVER_."

"Roaring and cursing like a hyena is not beautiful."

"She's got spunk, I'll give you that."

"Could you please leave now that you're done making a fool of yourself?" That was definitely Hitsugaya, arms crossed over his chest, a scowl perpetually on his pretty boy features. It was compounded by an amused nod from Karin, who was looking infinitely warmer at the older girl. Probably had to do with some family secret she wasn't privy to.

"Hey! I came out to support you guys and this is the thanks I get?"

"_Pfft_. You asked for those tickets, and I think we can all safely assume they were for _her_."

The ebony-colored Kurosaki gestured overtly to the surprised Kuchiki, whose eyes widened in reaction. Turning her head to the tall man, she noticed that a red flush was crawling from his cheeks. She tried not to find it cute.

"I _didn't_- I- no- What do you guys know anyway?" Ichigo sputtered, volume rising with his frazzled emotions. The look Karin gave would have made even the smartest man alive feel stupid and completely outclassed in any and every way. Rukia was liking her more and more.

"I think living with you for almost all my life and sharing the same blood—as unbelievable as it is—are two very good reasons as to why I 'know' these things."

"Whatever. Let's go, Rukia. I don't think we're wanted here anymore." His tone was gruff and just the slightest bit embarrassed, his frown contradicting his brightened color. Unbidden a pleased grin fell on her face, her heart hammering a little harder at the change of emotions. As he stalked out the door, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and back uncharacteristically hunched, Rukia turned to the others and bowed, waving goodbye to a much friendlier looking Karin before she followed him out into the cool autumn night.

* * *

><p>Despite her protests, Ichigo demanded he take her back to her apartment, even though he'd said he lived in the opposite direction. Rukia had a feeling he would, him being chivalrous in the strangest and most unconventional ways. It was a relief that she didn't have to walk by herself, but it made her wonder how he was going to get back home, the night late and with darkness creeping over the city.<p>

When she asked, he just turned to her and said, "I'll call someone." He didn't specify anything more, just shrugging as they walked alongside each other in silence. Her place wasn't too far, a good distance that would take more or less twenty minutes. She tried not to think about what would happen once they got there, if they'd exchange numbers and officially become friends or if he'd just walk away and go back to being another customer. She wasn't sure if she could be the one to make such a call.

As they treaded the cement path beside each other, the quiet was companionable, almost unexpectedly so. She'd expected… well, she wasn't exactly sure, but this calm and easy atmosphere certainly wasn't it. For all his comebacks and rebuffs, Rukia had thought he'd be more talkative, someone who wouldn't know how to read her and the air around them, filling it with chatter to ease his nerves. Surprisingly, he seemed to know what was unnecessary, as he kept his pace even so she wouldn't have to keep up with his long strides and looked onward without a word. Discretely, she gave him a soft look out of the corner of her eye before going back to her own thoughts.

Too soon they reached her building, as she motioned to it with a wave of her hand. Stopping beneath the light of a streetlamp, she turned around to face him, shooting him a content stare.

"Tonight was really fun. Thank you," she said, her hands unconsciously messing with each other.

"It was no problem. Thanks for coming. I know it was kinda weird to get an invitation from a stranger, right?" he joked, scratching the back of his head in an awkward but cute way. It made the side of her lip twitch, fighting back a larger smile.

"Would you like to come up?" It was an invitation to extend their night, a way for them to talk over coffee and really get to know each other. This was the hand she was going to play; Rukia could only hope that he would match it with his own. He studied her for a second, eyes becoming glassy and unseeing, deep in thought over his reply. Unfortunately, it wasn't the one she wanted.

"It's late. I think I should go."

"Oh." She tried not to sound disappointed, but she wasn't the kind that took rejection well. But she didn't let it get to her, trying to mask her saddened response with a wry beam and an overly cheerful tone. "Well, that's okay. Maybe next time, if you stop by the store or something. But, yeah, you're right, it's late and I should go in and you have to get back. Good night, Ichigo."

Inwardly cursing her rambling and wanting to bang her head against the wall, Rukia sighed as she turned away, her frown marring her pretty face. But it was Ichigo who snapped her out of it, calling her back when she stepped away from the circle of fluorescent light.

"Wait, Rukia. I want to give you something."

Straightening her back, she moved to return to her spot when he crossed the distance, steps quick and sure. Mouth open in question, Rukia's mind halted at what he did, thought now physically incapable for her. There were shocks rippling down her back and to her toes, her hands grabbing at air until she felt them fall onto warmed cotton, her fingers tightening in them. And her eyes fell close, surprise making way for the sweet gesture of his kiss, his own hands finding her shoulders to keep her close.

There was no finesse or technique, which was surprising consider the wealth of beauty the orange-haired man had. And yet it still managed to take her breath away, the thrumming inside her growing to a roar that was loud in her ears. Impossibly she tried to pull him closer, as she tilted her head to gain more access to him, reveling in his warmth. It was only a moment and yet it felt like an eternity, completely mind-blowing in all the best possible ways. When they parted, it felt as if he'd taken something crucial from her without her consent, palming it in his hands with care.

He didn't say anything after, but the gleam in his eyes somehow said more than words ever could. Placing his hands back in his pockets, Ichigo turned back towards the way they came, Rukia staring after him as he went. She brought a finger to her lips, warm and lightly chapped, but the smile that unfolded remained there even after she stepped into her apartment.

* * *

><p>Rukia went to sleep happily, dreams filled with feather soft hair in the brightest shade of tangerine and with a sweet, deep voice calling her name. It was irrational, completely opposite of the person she was, but Ichigo wasn't exactly normal either. No, he was certainly an exception in every sense of the word, as her thoughts went to him even as she woke up, groggy and hair thrown astray by her tossing and turning.<p>

It was the sound of her phone ringing that had awakened her, the shrill theme of an anime buzzing away. Vaguely she recalled hearing it a few times before then, but had figured it would go to voicemail easily enough. Instead it was an unwanted alarm that had forced her from her rather pleasant dream state.

"Hello," she muttered, voice scratchy and not particularly friendly.

"How _could_ you?" The voice was loud in her ear, causing her to shrink back at her friend's ranting. In the deepest, still partly sleeping recesses of her mind she managed to identify the caller as Kiyone, an overzealous underclassman of hers.

"Wait, wait, calm down. What are you talking about?" Rukia interrupted, letting out a yawn as she stretched lazily in her bed. It only seemed to rile the blonde more, as she began again in a rushed, high-pitched tone only used by her.

"Since when have you been dating Ichigo, as in _the_ Ichigo?"

"Ichigo?" she repeated, waking up at the sound of his name. The memory of last night's parting crossed her mind then, causing a flush to break out on her peach skin. "How do you know Ichigo? Are you a friend of his?"

"How do _I_ know Ichigo? How do _you_ know Ichigo? And why the hell are you two making out in public?"

"Wait, how did you—" She was interrupted by some commotion outside her window, the sounds of excited voices and… was that a camera's shutter? The two went hand-in-hand, as she walked over to her closed curtains, peering out between them. Her eyes widened at the crowd outside her building, a mix of spectators and paparazzi alike. They stood at the gates, their eyes rapt with interest as they stared at the complex, a certain madness in their eyes. She shut the blue drapes quickly, deciding she did not want to make any sort of visual contact with those people.

"There are people outside my apartment. Do you know why?" she asked, putting her phone on speaker as she began to get dressed, curious as to the reason for the onlookers. Luckily for her, Kiyone seemed to have all the answers.

"Well, duh. They're waiting for you!"

"_Me_?" She shrugged on a sweater, her voice muffled as she pulled it on. "Why would they be interested in me? Last time I checked, only movie stars and idols attracted crowds like that."

"Exactly!"

"So, what, I'm an idol now?" Rukia did try and hold back a snort of laughter, but it didn't work. The very thought was implausible.

"No!" Her friend sighed, frustrated and crackly over the connection. "The guy you kissed, Kurosaki Ichigo, he's a super famous actor. How the _hell_ do you not know this? He's _every_-_fucking_-_where_!"

"Ichigo? No way!" she laughed, finished brushing her teeth and moving down the hall towards the kitchen and living room. Grabbing a dish and utensils, she sorted through her fridge for food, her voice completely disbelieving. "I'm pretty sure I'd know that, or he would've told me at least."

"And yet we're still having this conversation." Her sarcasm was unwarranted, Rukia couldn't help but think, frowning as she sat at the table and turned on the TV.

"Look, maybe it's just some mistake…"

"Oh yeah? Turn to channel six. You're gonna need to see it for yourself."

Still unconvinced, Rukia did as she was told, finding some sleazy entertainment show on despite the early hour. Turning up the volume, she was halfway into the segment about some actor and his secret love affair. Not seeing anything even mildly telling, she turned back to her cell with a few choice words when a picture caught her attention on screen.

It was her and Ichigo, kissing outside her gate last night.

"Oh shit…"

"I told you. You're in deep too. Do you even know how _popular_ that guy is?" Kiyone spoke, but she was already on the backburner in Rukia's mind. Without even so much as a goodbye, she hung up the phone and moved to the couch, watching as the rest of the piece played out. She heard the male announcer narrate, his voice reporting as a few pictures flashed on screen.

"… bringing to you the latest entertainment news. Our top story is that Kurosaki Ichigo, one of our country's top young actors, is currently in a relationship. Not much is known about the girl in question, but sources have stated that she is a normal college student by the name of Kuchiki Rukia. She is the adopted daughter of the famed Kuchiki family, who are well-known for being one of the oldest and most well-established families in all of Japan. How they met is still unclear, but what we do know…"

Rukia's attention was pulled away by the ringing of her phone again, but this time it was a number she didn't recognize. A part of her, the common sense that was oftentimes correct, told her not to answer, in fear that it might be some scum reporter looking for a story or some crazed fan girl who thought nothing of tearing out her hair in jealousy. But there was the other one, the one that was ready to throw caution to the wind and just roll with the punches, who directed her to pick it up because there was little that could be worse than what was going on. It told her to take a chance on something unknown, and against her better judgment, she went with that gentle prodding in the back of her head.

"Hello?"

"Rukia, is that you?" An overwhelming sense of relief filled her, the voice on the line very memorable and comforting in a way she hadn't been expecting. Clutching her phone close to her ear, some of the worry filtered into her tone.

"Ichigo… What's going on? And how did you get my number?"

"There's not enough time for that. I just… I'm sorry, Rukia," he murmured, voice hushed but regretful. It made her heart flip in her chest, as she listened intently. "I never wanted this to happen. I just… I wanted you to like me. I didn't think anyone was following us..."

"I'm not talking about that," she interrupted, sitting on the couch and curling into herself, huddled protectively in one of its corners. "Why didn't you tell me who you were? It wouldn't have prevented anything, but if I had been prepared I'd at least feel a little less powerless. There are people outside my house, for God's sake!"

"I know. I should have said something," he agreed, his voice turning into a resigned sigh. She could almost imagine him running a hand through his hair, frustrated at his fate. "I just didn't want my… 'career' to change anything between us. We barely know each other, and it's not like I meet a lot of girls who don't know who I am already. I wanted to be a normal guy meeting a normal girl and getting to know her, just like anyone else."

"Oh…" She didn't know what to say to that.

"Look, I know that it might already be too late, but you can still back out if you want." His voice turned sure, regaining some of that characteristic confidence of his. The sound of it brought a bit of relief in her, easing some of the growing anxiety. "I can get my manager to release a statement, denying the whole thing. It'll be a while, but eventually everything will go back to normal. No one will be stalking you, taking pictures of you or anything like that. You can live your life as usual."

"But I'd never be able to see you again… right?" His silence on the other end was more than enough of an answer, the pounding of her heart louder than his soft breathing into the mouthpiece. It should have torn at her inside, making her question her thoughts about him and forcing her to weigh the options carefully. For anyone else, she was sure that no one would decide right there on the spot, needing to sort through the madness with time and maybe some well sought-after advice. She wasn't supposed to feel this sure about such a reckless decision, and even if she was making it on a whim, she knew this couldn't be a mistake. No one could plan emotions any more than they could reverse the earth's spin, after all.

"No, Ichigo, I don't think I could do that." She smiled a bit into her mobile phone, eyes crinkling at the edges in mirth. "I'm pretty sure you're going to have to take responsibility for this."

"Rukia, are you sure…?" His voice sounded surprised, airy as if he'd been holding his breath unconsciously. It only strengthened her resolve more.

"Fool," she laughed affectionately, her eyes going back to the news show that had moved on to a different story, while listening to the hustle and bustle of interested watchers outside. Just a moment ago, both things had scared her, completely pushing her out of her comfort zone. But with him there on the line, the bass of his voice ringing softly in her ears, it all felt rather mundane. She knew that he was something special, and she'd never be so stupid as to pass up on someone as amazing as this. "Have I ever said anything to you that I didn't mean?"

From the opposite end, she can almost see him smile.

* * *

><p>It took a while for the hoopla around the scandal to die. Of course, it was much harder for Rukia to adjust, the circus surrounding her whenever she went to school, work or any other intermediary place was total insanity. The constant threats from fans weren't exactly easy to get through either, and she knew that for any other girl these instances would be deal breakers. Ichigo got lucky. He found the only woman in the world who could put up with the craziness that most would avoid at all costs.<p>

Unfortunately, Rukia's sacrifice wasn't met with results immediately. To help calm the storm around them, they'd decided not to see each other for a while, him doing damage control and her trying to just live her life normally, one day at a time. And while it was a mutual choice, it didn't ease any of the discomfort that assailed her on occasion. She knew exactly who and what she was, so now and again she wondered what Ichigo saw in her that was so special that he'd choose her over any of the beautiful co-stars or models he came in contact with. She knew that when she woke up, all she saw was a half-dead zombie who cursed too much, hair standing in ways she hadn't thought were possible. And, unfortunately, her friends seemed to agree with her.

"He used to date Orihime Inoue? Why the hell is he with you?" Her ever-sensitive best friend Renji looked up from the tabloid in his hands, only to be met with a punch in the face. As if her self-esteem needed another reason to be tested. Inoue was one of the most beautiful idols in Japan; she knew there was no way in hell she could compete with that, but did he really have to say it out loud?

"No one asked you! _Idiot_…" She munched on her bread roll, sitting beside four of her friends at lunch, outside and under a large shady tree. It had been a little over two weeks since her and Ichigo's relationship had started (not fully by choice, those so-called journalists were rather good motivators though) and yet she hadn't seen him. If it wasn't for his occasional calls and random texts, Rukia would swear she'd never know they were supposed to be dating. Oh, those plus the countless magazine covers with his face on it and snippets of their first kiss captioned next to him. Couldn't forget those.

"I think it says a lot for Ichigo that he'd date a normal girl, especially with his status," Isane said helpfully, smiling at Rukia, supportive as usual. She always had loved the bleach-haired girl. There were few who were as evenly optimistic as they were practical in the world. It was an impossible combination to come by.

"I guess so. But really, Rukia, how'd you two even meet?" Kiyone interrupted, having been refused the story since the start of the publicity whirlwind. To be honest, no one knew the real start behind the budding romance, that first time when she'd thrown his stuff at him and cursed his existence out the door. While certainly entertaining, it didn't suit the image of a hardworking student from a rich family. She wanted to keep her pride (as well as her family's image) intact.

"Who knows?"

"_You do!_" she yelled, pointing an unapologetic finger in her direction. Well, that was certainly true but she wasn't about to spill the beans.

"When all this shit's blown over, I promise to tell you."

"But that's _so_ not fun!"

"Life isn't fun. Sometimes it's hell, ne, Kuchiki," Sentarou butted in, doing his best to one-up up his female counterpart. Getting pulled into it, the inseparable pair started up again, intent to gain the small girl's favor but for what Rukia wasn't sure. All she did know was that their yelling was causing a slight migraine to throb at her temples, her hand going up to massage the internal pain away. She didn't even notice the other's presence until a pair of arms slipped around her shoulders, a longer, warmer body aligning to her back.

"_Tadaima*_," he whispered, head tucked into the crook of her shoulder, cradling her in his arms.

"Ichigo!" Rukia's head flicked to the side, meeting a sea of dark brown and a content smile. That telltale flush of hers started from her cheeks until it reached her neck and the very tips of her ears. Inwardly, she was ecstatic, the rhythm in her chest turning from a skip to a run. But, in front of her stunned friends and what looked to be a growing crowd of observers and fans alike, she wouldn't let him know that.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"

"That's not a very nice way to greet your boyfriend," he shrugged, entangling himself to take a seat between her and a starstruck Isane. If she could have blushed harder, she would have.

"Yeah, well… It's not as if you're around anyway!" That sounded terribly needy. She hoped he didn't notice.

"You know I'm sorry about that, right?" he asked, voice holding just the tiniest bit of sadness, eyes flashing snatches of regret. Rukia could literally hear the '_aww'_-ing of the gathering crowd, and maybe even a few girlish squeals coming from every other direction. It only took her a second to realize what he was doing.

_He's_ acting_! This son of a bitch is putting on a show and he's using _me_!_ Mentally she cursed his existence, her eyes telling him that she had his entire game figured out. Instead of being mad as she'd hoped, he looked slightly proud and more than a little impressed. Obviously this wasn't his first time doing it, but probably one of the few instances where he had been caught. Either way, she was irritated.

"Ichigo, you shouldn't be invading campuses, even if it's just to see me—"

"I'm not here just for you," Ichigo interrupted, a mischievous gleam coming into his eyes. Immediately, she remembered how much she hated it. On the other (and rather reluctant) hand, Rukia couldn't help but think he looked ridiculously sexy with it on, and she knew she wasn't the only who thought so. It was a wonder he hadn't been chased out or torn to pieces for his clothing. If they were in a more public place, she was sure he'd be swamped with fans by now.

"Oh really?" She raised a brow. "Then why are you here?"

"I was enrolled last week. I start classes today."

Her sputtering was drowned out by the amazed gasps and helpless screams of the bystanders, completely enthralled with the idea that a movie star would attend school on their campus. For Rukia, all she thought was that he was invading the only part of her life that wasn't filled with senseless camera flashes and jealous girls trying to attack her in dark alleyways (overdramatic yes, but not an inaccurate portrayal of her strife).

When she opened her mouth to give him her opinion, she stopped when he gave her a telling look, determination coursing through his face. With just that gaze, she knew that he was doing this nit just for her but himself as well. This one act would offer a bit of normalcy that his star-studded life wouldn't let him have. He wanted to be, on some level, average, which meant being her boyfriend and student, not just the celebrity that everyone expected him to be. Thinking about it, it was a rather sweet (though unorthodox) gesture, how he'd go to such an extent just to prove that he could meet her on an equal footing and still make her fall in love with him. So she shut her mouth, feeling just a bit of anticipation build in her stomach. Turning her head away before he could read her face, she just grumbled a bit to herself.

"Do what you want. It's not my life…" She didn't see the playful look on his face, all adoration and unmasked satisfaction on his normally emotionless face, but she didn't have to.

The feeling of his hand taking hers was more than enough.

_The End_

* * *

><p><em>*Tadaima: <em>Japanese for "I'm home" or "I'm back."

**AN:** And so it was written. I hope that everyone enjoyed this little two-shot. Please let me know what you thought in a review so I know whether or not I should keep it up or just stick to my usual HitsuKarin. Haha. By the way, I may or may not do a HitsuKarin side story, depending on if anyone agrees that I should or if I just feel particularly inspired. Let me know, okay?

Thanks for reading, everybody!


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