disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to Annie. Happy Christmas!
notes: I'm just going to sit here and listen to Marianas Trench.
notes2: I am a very silly girl.

title: the forever girl
summary: "It's cold out there," she noted. "And it's just getting colder." — Ichigo/Rukia.






"It's cold out there," she noted. "And it's just getting colder."

It was three days before the equinox, and it was black outside.

Ichigo looked over at the girl sitting on the sill of his window, looking outwards. She was so small, fragile in the way of ice in a lattice up glass; he could press his fingers to her skin and she would melt away.

Rukia was of snow and ice, an arc of water-laughter frozen in place. Even her Zanpakutō—and Ichigo knew, he'd seen Sode No Shirayuki in all her icy glory—was the same. She was meant for winter and for cold and for the kind of beauty that was soft and pure as untouched snow.

She was meant for pink cheeks and scarves tucked around her neck, steaming green tea and oranges with her toes under a kotatsu. Ichigo watched her, with her legs tucked up and her chin resting on knobbly knees, bulky in an ugly old sweater that had belonged to his mother. It was just a little thing.

She was meant for forever, though neither of them acknowledged it. Ichigo watched her and didn't even care that he was grinning like a dolt.

"Yeah," he said. "It is."

Rukia twisted around to raise an eyebrow at him. "What are you grinning about?"

"Nothin'," he said. Ichigo stood over her and ruffled her hair, because he knew it would make her squirm.

"Oi, quit it!" Rukia scrunched her face up, almost wailing and turning red and blotchy.

Ichigo chuckled and bent over her to kiss her forehead.

"Not good enough," Rukia grumbled. "Kiss me properly."

She fisted her hand in his shirt, and tugged him down.

She tasted like tea.