In My Nothing; You were everything to me || For abaxrpg, NSFW BOY LOVE WITHIN!

[savior_n_black]

It was difficult for Ichigo's internal clock to adjust without the sun rising, and setting to mark the borders between each day. Ichigo didn't mind too much, though, because he was happy for the quiet settled in the little 'nest' of blankets the converted sleeping alcove offered during mid-afternoon. Rukia was closeted with her sister, and adoptive brother ( brother-in-law? ) getting them caught up on what had happened in the year's ( or week's, it's hard to keep proper track with a time, or universe paradox around ever corner ) events leading up to their abrupt arrival in the city of Abax.

After the moment of complete emotional overwhelm, Ichigo had used the minute, or two it took to dress himself to gather the wits. Wits that seeing Shiro, again, had effectively scattered, even to the point that Ichigo's inherent stubborn resolve to hide all of his more intense emotions was thrown out the window the moment he felt those familiar claws pricking his shoulders. Shiro, though...well, he was so out of sorts that once the hollow had dressed himself, Shiro barely put up more than token arguments against Ichigo carrying Shiro piggy-back style all the way to the shop.

That's where they were, now. Shiro was curled up with Ichigo next to him, and both had gained another warm comforter at some point while they slept. But, now Ichigo was awake, and though painfully aware of the risk of starling Shiro...he just could not help it. He couldn't help reaching out to let a lock of that soft, white hair slither through three of his fingers like strands of spun moonlight.

Fuck, but I was such an idiot.

I've missed you....so much...

And both statements were further illustrated by the fact that Ichigo still 'talked to himself' within his own mind ( too used to Shiro 'taking back' to stop ) and the uncensored addendum to the first thought. Idly, he let the lock of white hair fan between his fingers, and though Ichigo could feel that raw, burning, urge-- no. The need to wrap his arms around Shiro, and hold on tight, he also knew the hollow was upset with Ichigo.

Not, you know, that Shiro didn't have a right to be, but still.

Comments

[savior_n_black]

The pit of his stomach was lit afire as the feedback scraped through again and again, hollowing Ichigo out with each passing, until he thought he was left with a shell so brittle he might simply fly apart and ruin all of Rukia's hard work to put him back together.

Not caring about the mess, or the embarrassment of the fact there was no way that the others that shared this living space hadn't heard, or know about that, Ichigo wriggled his wrist out from being sandwiched in between them, and wrapped himself around Shiro. His arms, and legs felt numb, clumsy with exhaustion, and little trembling aftershocks still ratcheted up his thighs at random.

But he curled up, dragging the white body as close as he could get Shiro, leaning in cheek to cheek...and not really even noticing the dry hiccuping little breaths that were escaping him right now. You couldn't really call it crying, because his eyes were completely dry...but it was sobbing all the same.

With the hurt still there, but the anger spent, and the mixture of relief, rejection, then aggressive sex, Ichigo was a mess. As Ichigo's own ears stopped ringing, he made an effort to gulp back the hot, desperate breaths. Shiro would just have to deal with Ichigo tucking his head under the hollow's chin for now. He needed the simple reassurance that Shiro was close. That he was there...and that whether it was love, or hate, Ichigo still needed Shiro.

[holeheart]

Feedback, repeating over and over like an echo, until both of them were so completely spent that it felt like there wasn't an ounce of fluid left in either of their bodies. Well... save for the fact that the Hollow is more or less drooling in bliss, moaning a little as he squirms under Ichigo.

Gone is the hate, gone is the desire for revenge or whatever it was even. Did it ever even matter? How foolish. Wrapping his arms around Ichigo, the Hollow can feel the echoes of that hatred, but can't consciously figure out why it's there. What had he been angry about...? In the fog of bliss and pain and exhaustion, he only felt the need to be close to Ichigo, the need to touch and be touched. What was... sobbing...? Why? Shiro lets a small sound escape from his mouth and he moves his weak, numbed arms up, caressing Ichigo's face with sweaty, sticky hands as gently as he can.

"Shhh... shh..." Shushing those sobs away. No no. None of that. No rain. Cradling him close and rubbing his chin in that soft ginger hair. The hurt remains, but Shiro now wants to chase it away. He felt bad, now, for saying those things. For thinking those things... he had been wrong and he feels that particular emotion stinging at his eyes. Ichigo sobbed dryly, but Shiro cried quietly. Just a few tears. I'm sorry I didn't mean it I don't hate you I don't hate you.

[savior_n_black]

Ichigo didn't respond. He couldn't. He could barely get his breath under control, much less think about things like words, or the sort of focus it takes to make words work in the silent way.

He'd been hurt, angry, then hurt worse, then fighting, then ripped back, and forth between being half-hollwfied, had angry, aggressive sex...and finally his soul had righted itself when the dry sobs spent themselves in Shiro's chest. But he was tired...so very tired.
The mess could wait. The rest of the emotional clusterfuck that was his ties to Shiro, and Rukia could wait. He needed just a little bit of quiet...just...a little...

Love you

And without further ado, Ichigo was asleep with his head tucked under Shiro's chin. The hollow had very slow, to no heartbeat, but he was a solid, reassuring presence, and Ichigo didn't particularly want to stop touching Shiro for a very long time to come, anyway.