Fics like in a way that feels honest

When Ichigo had called her over earlier that afternoon, Orihime had been delighted. She clocked out of work and hopped to his neighborhood, humming a light tune as the breeze twirled her skirt. When she went upstairs to his room, they talked for a good bit like they always did—him leaning against his doorway, her aimlessly walking around his room like it was a museum of all things Kurosaki Ichigo. A fading ink stain here, a band poster there. She loves his room. She's charmed by its little trinkets, its scent. By the boy, and the quiet noises he holds in his throat when they kiss in it. She bunches a hand into her skirt and flushes. Maybe she'd been too distracted by the chink on the shelf, because when she turned, he'd thrust a cassette into her hands and said, "Here. I made this." "Woah! That's so cool." She examined it between her fingers gingerly, completely oblivious. It was only when that he cleared his throat and admitted, "I made it for you," that the meaning clicked and Orihime's world fell away from her.

Fics like in a way that feels honest

You may also like