[ Ichigo frowns, staring down at Byakuya, nursing his tea like he hadn't left it completely up to dumb luck for Ichigo not to signal that he was still interested. Honest opinion, come on!
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]
no subject
With a scoff, he eyes the bench, quickly calculates whether there's enough room for him to sit and be close enough for it to feel satisfying, but far enough away that half Sodai's female student body doesn't go into a fit about boy's love or whatever. There's no really easy solution to that headache yet, and feeling a bit daunted by the realization, Ichigo concludes there won't be in any foreseeable future either. They either have the privacy that they can make for themselves, meaning never at Ichigo's house, or he learns to tolerate being different in just some other way. Shouldn't be new to him, honestly. His shoulders remain up high around his ears and he looks around slowly, as if surveying a battlefield, making those kinds of calls.
When it shouldn't be anything like that anymore.
Turning his head back towards Byakuya, he takes him in, in his slim-fit jeans and long scarf that fits the maple trees and the season. His hair's tied up, but his bangs are still everywhere and frame in his face, his grey eyes. Ichigo's fingers itch to reach up and push it out of there, out of the way. He didn't wait around for a week not to do any of this crap.
Yet, his hands don't move from his sides. His voice, when he speaks again, is quiet, very controlled. He's looking down. ]
Let's not do this here, okay? [ A brief pause, then he signals very lightly around them, shoulders dropping gradually, until he feels less on the fence about everything. He just... ] Don't want to share it with everyone.
[ Recalling that night, last time, he feels himself flushing slightly and bends his neck lower, more or less trying to hide in his hair. It's not a perfect plan, especially since Byakuya is sitting down and can look right up into his face, but it's gonna have to do. ]