This fiction will be short, three chapters, and is already done. I'll update really quickly.

You may read this and think Ichigo comes off as a bit of an ass hole, but honestly, I can think of so many times in the manga that Ichigo's thoughtlessness led to some ass like behavior. If you've read my other fictions, you know I don't like characterizing Ichigo as this golden boy. He's 17, imperfect, and I love him that way. I'm a big believer that people's faults are just as beautiful as their good qualities, and even more so when a person can overcome them. So, with that in mind, enjoy.

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This fiction was inspired by the song "The Drowning," by Keaton Henson.

"I'm born every day just to you love you,

and think of you a little bit more.

Just hoping today I won't miss you,

but I'm thinking I will do for sure.

Whiskey's the thing I won't turn to;

Drugs are a thing that won't help.

This is all that I had to begin with.

I was as far as could be when I fell.

And I'm going down

with this ship.

And I'll most likely will drown,

but it's worth it.

It's worth it.

And if I'm a sailor, you're a captain.

You steered us off course and you know.

And the water's gushing is a omen;

our love is an old weary boat.

And I'll hold your hair back if you're seasick,

and I make sure you aren't too shore-safe.

Then I'm afraid I must be leaving,

and I'm afraid that you won't relate.

And I'm going down

with this ship.

And I'll most likely will drown,

but it's worth it.

It's worth it.

It's worth it."

xXx

Ichigo watched as they whirled around. He watched as his two best friends swept across the dance floor, the tiny girl standing on Renji's feet. He watched as Renji fiend bothered, but couldn't, as his dopey grin betrayed him like it always did. Steadily, sedately, obsessively, Ichigo watched as the porcelain skin girl craned her head back in fits of laughter, laughter that grasped her body and dared her not to quiver. He watched as the coral hues of the setting sun filtered through the windows of the reception hall and made the girl glitter splendidly, and at just the right angle, it made her hair look as if it had been embellished by tinsel.

He watched on, thinking Rukia was beauty in motions as she twirled in her purple wedding kimono. He watched as the two somehow moved so fluidly in their fanatical awkwardness, how even bumbling, they looked perfectly matched. Their tandem motions were like loose choreography that spoke of history, chemistry, and connections built from years of trials. It was easy and natural. It was thoughtless, doubtless. It was right, and as he looked on from behind the rim of his sake glass, he wondered how he ever could've missed something so blatant.

That was simple, because his eyes had only been taking in half of the equation. His eyes never left her.

Ichigo never knew much about love or what it meant to be in it, but before this realization, he didn't think it was possible for this all encompassing, thought seizing, sleep stealing, heart wrenching, succubus of an emotion to be one sided. It was unfathomable to him how his heart could've been torn asunder, ripped itself in two only to give its other half to her when she would not, could not, do the same.

Now he was the half hearted man, destined to live fragmented and incomplete. Often he woke up with a twisting pain stabbing at his chest, and he knew it was his heart's open wound festering even more, oozing with infection caused by the inability to close without the other half she never gave and it's other half it couldn't take back.

How could his heart betray him like that, tether so tightly to a person who could never reciprocate that bond? Every day, every single damn day, he asked himself how could she not feel it too.

Now, standing amidst baltering, sake - warmed celebrators, amidst cheers and music, smiles and laughter, lover and inter tangled limbs spinning mindlessly, Ichigo understood. It hit him with the full weight of a cero to the gut. It was because she had a bond that was much stronger.

He had been delirious, assuming that just because she gave him the power to protect the ones he loved, the strength and backbone to combat the sorrow that seemed to know no end, that she too felt what he felt. That was an instant of her life, a flash decision made in a moment of panic, but Renji, that was a lifetime's worth of a mutual bond they consciously chose. That was a life time's worth of struggles, jokes, and heated arguments. That was a life time's worth of seeing each other at their worst and helping them become their best. That was a play fighting, food sharing, mischievous having, care taking, hand holding, slow burning lifetime of memories that turned into an untamable fire that could not be dampened.

Now that Ichigo thought about it, he couldn't even tell you what her favorite color was, but he knew Renji could. He could tell you that and so much more.

Him and Rukia, their moment was just a flash in time, a breath of massive oxidation that burned brightly for a mere wrinkle until it exploded. A day that was worth Ichigo whole painful existence was just a mission gone awry for Rukia. Maybe if she didn't have Renji, it would've been more, but none of that mattered now.

He was glad they were arrested in each others hold, because he didn't want them to see the feelings he tried so desperately to suppress. Equally, he didn't want her to look at him and not see. He didn't want the indifference, for them to look at him too love drunk to see through Ichigo. As much as he didn't want them to know, he didn't want the knowledge that his two best friends could look at him and not see something they should be too close to miss. That just added insult to injury, knowing they couldn't, or didn't want to, really see him.

All this time, Ichigo thought he had been made out of glass when it came to Rukia. It seemed he was wrong. He had to look away.

He stood there, blank as a canvas, drinking sake and making frivolous conversation with whoever cared to attempt it. No one noticed his wondering gaze, and if they did, they said nothing.

He was spinning from a mixture of alcohol and self loathing. He should be happy. They're happy. She's happy, and he loved to see her smile. He wanted her happy and full of life, because she was so beautiful that way. Renji too, he deserved it. Really, he deserved her, so why couldn't that be enough? Why was he wishing it was him, that Renji was the voyeur with wistful eyes and alcohol on his breath? He didn't, but he did. He didn't want that for his friend, but he so badly wanted to stand in his shoes. He was full of contradictions.

Honestly, he thought he was better than this, but maybe hiding it away was enough. Maybe those selfish, conflicting feelings didn't matter as long as he choked on them.

Sometimes it felt like he'd choke on them until he died. War might not have been the end of him, but love was a good contender.

He wafted his gaze as a means of distraction. It didn't really work, but it was better than filling his time with coveting stares.

In a corner by himself, he saw Byakuya. As always, he looked sad. In fact, the dysphoria in his eyes seemed to match that of Ichigo's. It seemed heavy set, a permanent fixture in the Kuchiki lord, and though Ichigo often wondered why, he never cared enough to ask. Or maybe he just didn't want to know. He couldn't see that changing, and even if it did, he couldn't imagine Byakuya would be partial to his quandaries.

He knew a little bit of the story behind Byakuya's wife, and a part of him wanted to be more empathetic, especially because he was usually the type to care, but his own turbulent heart seemed to stop him. His misery did not love company.

Besides, Byakuya had been like this for as long as Ichigo had known the man, and if he was at peace with his sadness, who was Ichigo to say it should be otherwise?

He blinked at the man a few times. Sometimes it baffled him that Byakuya and Rukia weren't biological siblings. They looked just alike. They had the same unblemished, ivory skin, the same lustrous raven hair, the same heavy, hooded orbs that dragged you into their briny wallows. Only Rukia held her eyes strong. They couldn't be missed or ignored. They existed in a constant state of lively fire that refused to be caped. When you looked into them, you got caught in a daze.

Byakuya's, on the other hand, stung to the sight. No one looked. No one wanted to see, because they reflected a sorrow that could not rest. They reflected a man who was too human for his cold shell, and the paradox ate at you. You became unsettled by their beautiful agony. They made you want to love him, patch him up, even though you knew you never would. Maybe that's why Byakuya closed his eyes, because he knew no one wanted to see, and just as much, he didn't want to see everyone look away.

And those who did look, like the Shinigami Women's Association, it was so shallowly. It was as if his painful beauty was a novelty to be gawked at but never taken seriously. It's as if they'd prefer him with pain in his eyes, only so he'd maintain that distant and seductively somber disposition they all loved. He was everyone's favorite mourning prince.

Ichigo blinked at the man once more, and like everyone else, he looked away. Those sad heather - hued moons looked too much like Rukia's, and he didn't know how he felt about that.

He poured another cup of sake and tried not to sulk. Since the war, he wasn't able to go back home. Ichigo wasn't one for self pity, but sometimes it seemed like his life was a cosmic joke of epic proportions. He risked everything to protect his world, and as a result, he had to give up his world anyway. Now he was stuck in this perpetual hell, forced to watch the girl he'd fallen in love with love someone else, forced to make a life amongst the dead.

Life was cruel and full of morbid humor. He was sure life was laughing at him.

He turned to pour another glass, only to find a full one being held out in offering. First he looked at that lithe yet strong hand, then his gaze moved upwards.

Looking at him was Rukia eyes, only not. They were just as expressive but in a way that made him want to tear his own away.

"Byakuya," he rasped, tentatively grasping the glass. "Thanks…"

The man nodded in acknowledgment, and Ichigo forced himself to look, and god, he looked so much like Rukia.

He almost wanted to light those eyes up. Not because Ichigo wanted him to look more like his sister, but because he couldn't stand how they made him want to know the man's pain as his own.

"I would be careful with your alcohol intake, Kurosaki Ichigo," he warned. "It will only make you more obvious."

Ichigo fretted his eyes in confusion until realization dawned on him. How did Byakuya know? How did he see what his own two friends didn't?

Seeing the unspoken question in Ichigo's eyes, Byakuya said, "Most people only see what they want to, but I prefer to see things as is."

Ichigo scowled a little deeper. "Oh yeah, and what do you see?"

"A hurt heart."

Something about the words seemed deliberate in their phrasing.

"Why don't you say broken?"

"Because," he rationalized, "nothing about you is breakable."

Why that made him angry, he didn't know. For some reason, every dryly delivered, compassionate word coming from Byakuya's mouth only fueled his anger. He didn't want to be understood, not by Byakuya. He didn't want to be understood at all, because his sadness was all he had these days, and when it was prodded, it hissed with anger.

Why did healing hurt? Maybe Byakuya would know, but he wouldn't ask.

"You don't even know me," Ichigo tutted. "We barely even talk."

Byakuya sighed, and there was a sadness in it that pierced Ichigo's ears.

"I do not speak unless there is something worth saying."

"And what makes this worth your precious time?" Ichigo ridiculed.

Devoid of any verbal emotion, Byakuya said, "You are here experiencing a great pain, and you feel as if not a person in the whole world, the world you saved, sees you. I could see nothing more worthy."

Ichigo's breath became humid and his chest swelled with something he could only define as hostility. He wished the man would stop. He wished he'd go back to his respective corner so they could sulk in solitude. He didn't care to bond over their pain. He did want to be looked at with such vibrant despair that seemed to reflect his own, and he especially didn't want it to make him feel things.

He didn't want Byakuya to be the one who saw him. This man who looked so much like Rukia, but wasn't. A man who he'd only shared a hand full of vague conversation with and nothing else. A man who held himself so callously. It shouldn't be him. He knew nothing of Ichigo, but Rukia did. So why this man? Why Byakuya?

"Do not worry, it is not obvious to the others, but you'd be surprised how liquor can bring out a person's most unfavorable parts."

Ichigo looked over to a blitz Kyoraku swaying to the music with his longtime companion. "Kyoraku looks fine."

"If you call that horrible dancing fine," Byakuya remarked.

Ichigo snorted. "Well at least he's having fun."

After a moment, Byakuya offered offhandedly, "If you'd like a distraction, I would be willing to dance with you."

If Ichigo hadn't broken out into hysterics, he may have noticed the way a more visible pain washed over the Kuchiki lord's usually stoic face. Then again, that pain wouldn't have surfaced in the first place if he had of contained himself a little better.

"Ahh," Ichigo wheezed, patting away tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes, "good one, Byakuya. What next, a date?"

"If you would like," Byakuya said matter of factly.

Ichigo threw him a questioning glare before sputtering laughter besieged him again. He was roaring, and he knew he shouldn't have been laughing so hard, but the alcohol in his blood didn't give much credence to should haves.

Finally, he said, "Who knew you had a sense of humor, Byakuya. Thanks for the joke, I needed a laugh."

The noble dipped his head marginally, and somehow his voice became both stiffer and sadder, both more pained and more apathetic. It was undefinable and existed in the in-between. "Yes. A joke," was all he said before he turned to walk away, and if Ichigo wasn't still cracking up, maybe he would've noticed.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, it may seem as if your heart is unfixable, or that you will never connect with another in such a way, but trust that this isn't true. I know this first hand," Byakuya said, his back taunting to the young man.

This change seemed to catch Ichigo off guard, and he spun around as a result.

"Huh?" he questioned, that anger rekindled once more. "I doubt I'll find someone who I connect with like Rukia. She gave me my powers for kami sake."

"True," Byakuya agreed, "you'll never find someone like Rukia, however, one day, you'll find someone who subtly, yet daily, will consciously choose to do whatever they can to make your life better just because they yearn to be apart of your life even on a small level. They'll desire to make you happy the way you make them by just existing, and if you think about it, that is a much more beautiful, stronger connection than a random one that was thrusted upon both parties, neither of whom had little choice but to accept it, in a heat filled moment."

Ichigo was baffled into silence. So Byakuya said one last thing. "Is that not the connection that has led Renji and Rukia here today? This is not to undermine your connection with Rukia. For what it is, it is beautiful, but the connection that creeps upon you, that is built with patience and thoughtfulness, is much more potent in the end." A pause. " Then again, you are probably to dense to see something like that even if it glared you in the face." Byakuya thought, 'Just like that human girl,' but kept that to himself, and before Ichigo could say one word, Byakuya was gone, vanished into the sea of people.

It wasn't Byakuya's words that angered Ichigo, because he had already realized that himself, at least to some extent. He realized why Rukia and Renji's bond was more solid than Rukia's and his own, or at the very least, more inclined to lead to a lifetime of partnership. It was the questions Byakuya's words made him ask himself. Like, if it had been anyone else that night, anyone else who had given him their powers, would he had fallen in love with them too? If he had went to save someone else from execution, and had met Rukia latter down the line, would he have even looked at her twice?

There were things about Rukia that he really liked, like her unwavering confidence, her tenacity, her empathy, but were any of those aspects of her the reason he had fallen for the girl, or was it simply all over shadowed by the bond they created on that dimly litted, debris riddled street? Were all those likable parts of the girl just benefits that wouldn't stand up on their own? Was that really a good reason to be in love with someone, for what they gave you, but not who they were, and if not, then why did he feel as if this love was his strongest enemy yet? Should love even feel like an enemy?

Ichigo couldn't be sure. Even more so, he couldn't be sure of why he wanted to follow Byakuya. Maybe it was to yell at him. Maybe it was just to talk, but something imperative pulled on him.

Sick of questions filling him, he decided to drown them with more sake. After three more back to back shots, Ichigo went off in the direction Byakuya had disappeared to.

From across the hall, Ichigo could see Byakuya exist the building. Fighting against sake - fueled, clumsy motions, Ichigo maneuvered himself through the crowd. With each step, he bolstered himself with irrational anger. He thought about Byakuya, that eye thief. The way he stole Rukia's eyes and mutilated them with a sadness that made Ichigo feel things, bizarre things that made him want to know Byakuya. Things that had Ichigo wanting to both look away from those eyes and swim to their absolute depths in search for something he was unsure of.

He was drunk, of that he was certain. He felt such an anger that he thought he might just punch Byakuya on sight, but when he finally saw him, standing against the railing of a gazebo, taking conservative sips of sake with such graceful movements that they looked like those of a practiced dancer, surrounded by a backdrop of star scattered tenebrosity, he couldn't help but marvel.

Ichigo had never thought of a man as beautiful, but when he stood there, all moon bath and proactively silent, Ichigo couldn't help but to notice what a gorgeous creature the Kuchiki lord really was.

Maybe it was for the ways he looked like Rukia, but in so many ways, he looked nothing like her, and Ichigo wasn't sure which he appreciated more, their similarities or their distinguishable qualities.

He walked up the gazebo steps and over to the man. "You're not much of a party person, huh?"

The noble cocked an eyebrow at him before returning his gaze to the moon.

"And you are?"

"No. It may come as a surprise, but I actually prefer calm and solitude more than I don't."

"Perhaps you're an introvert," Byakuya speculated, "That's not to say you don't enjoy the company of people, but that they drain you. People are often a lot of effort."

Ichig0o looked out into the dark environs thoughtfully.

"I think you're right. Half the time I rather be saving people than spending time with them. Don't get me wrong, I care about my friends, but..." He looked over to Byakuya, and his eyes softened. "You don't drain me."

The noble shrugged a shoulder elegantly and sipped his sake. Ichigo watched the way Byakuya's lips pressed against the porcelain rim with an odd fascination.

"Certain people's personalities will bring out different parts of your own, react differently with your own than others."

Their glares locked, and everything felt hazy.

"Do you moon gaze often?"

Byakuya nodded.

"I enjoy how small it makes me feel. It puts much in perspective about myself and this world."

Ichigo's lips vibrated humorously.

"Who knew the great Lord Kuchiki could be so humble?"

A scintilla of a smirk surfaced on the man's face.

"Perish the thought," he remarked dryly. "The moon is probably the only thing I'd openly admit my inferiority to, so there's no need to be too shocked."

"And he has a sense of humor! You're just full of surprises."

"You only say this because I'm often silent."

Ichigo gave a breathy chuckle.

"You do lend yourself to being mysterious. A guy can't help but to wonder about you."

At the statement, Byakuya turned an intrigued glare towards Ichigo.

"Do you often wonder about me, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Without the filter that his sober mind typically blessed him with, Ichigo confessed, "Probably more than I should." He turned his gaze back onto Byakuya, and once again, their eyes seemed to lock in some wordless trance, a force of attraction weighing down on them. Neither pulled away, as if they were challenging each other to speak first, but for what seemed like forever, neither did.

Since he stepped onto the gazebo, thoughts of Rukia subsided. Even staring into eyes that looked so much like hers, he could see only how they differed, and he found the curiosity he had always held towards Byakuya driving their conversation. Only, for whatever reason, her memory once again assaulted him, breaking the glass that encapsulated them in their spell, and oh god, did Ichigo feel conflicted. Her face was shining through Byakuya's, sullying his uniqueness, and he both hated and loved their similarities. He was still full of contradictions. Mostly, he needed to look away.

Raking a hand through his hair, Ichigo noticed, for the first time, the soft thrum of music rolling out of the reception hall. Unsure of why, he asked teasingly, "Do you still want to dance?" Only it wasn't really a joke, and Byakuya knew that. Ichigo blamed it on the liquor mixing up his good senses.

Byakuya hesitated, but then he nodded.

"Yes," he said, as if it was the most important yet obvious answer he'd ever give.

Ichigo thought they'd do something stiff and regal, so he was taken by surprise when two strong yet gentle hands claimed his hips and pulled him close, and even more surprised when he fell into place so naturally, winding his arms around Byakuya's neck.

Ichigo dipped his head against the man's collarbone as he let out a sigh, and he felt utterly creamy in Byakuya's hold. Only the two couldn't meet eyes, because there was too much vulnerability in them, too many unspoken questions, festered pain, and incomprehensible feelings. It was as if they knew to look each other in the eyes meant they'd have to face the surrealism of their reality, and it would complicate an otherwise euphoric simplicity.

Just for a moment, they wanted to enjoy this. They wanted to enjoy each other without the complexities of what they were feeling. That could come later. For now, they just danced.

Their bodies intermingled and swayed together gently like tree limbs in a summer breeze. Ichigo was pressed against the steadying heartbeat of the man, and he could feel it reverberating through him until it matched with his own and created a drumming much more rhythmic than the music surrounding them.

The noble's arms looped around him, and his palm pressed against the dip in Ichigo's back in an encouraging yet not oppressive way. His hands told of a great desire to hold Ichigo, but an even greater respect that would never allow the nobleman to keep him against his will.

He did not admire Ichigo in the way a trophy hunter admired a lion's pelt, but as a gardener admired a plot he tended to, without possession, but with a thrill for the feral beauty that was meant to be spectated by everyone, and because of this, Ichigo felt strangely at peace in the man's arms. He felt like himself, completely un-plucked and cherished for all that he was.

As their breathing started to synchronize and their bodies demolished any existing space, Ichigo became overwhelmed with all the things that made Kuchiki Byakuya so much more than a reflection of Rukia's features. Like his sweet aroma and the way his lips were fuller and pinker than his sisters, or how he was much warmer to the touch, but not in a scorching way. He noticed how he didn't have to look down, but straight ahead to see the man, how his hair was longer and feathery, slightly wavy in a way Ichigo had never noticed before. He observed how strong his arms and jaw line were, and for unknown reasons, he enjoyed that. His breath smelled like ginger, and like his touches, they were tranquil, careful yet confident in their purpose.

When their collided bodies moved against each others, he could feel that Byakuya was so much more than sad eyes and Rukia's brother, and Ichigo was staggered by it all. His sent, his hold, his fluidity, it sent him reeling. He became drunk on the man's differences.

Maybe that's what caused him to lean his head up just enough to look at the man's pretty mouth and lick his lips at the sight of the Byakuya's slightly parted ones. He became suddenly parched, and it was as if his lips just knew there was only one thing that would satisfy him.

Tenderly, he pressed his lips against Byakuya's, and he could feel them twitch against his own, but they quickly pressed back. Like two kids sharing their first kiss, they pecked each other's lips in exploration, separating minutely in between each innocent joining of lips as if they were uncertain and scared, but each tingling brush of their mouths created more courage. Each kiss lingered longer until they became strong and bold, and they kissed each other as if they swapped affection everyday, as if it was just an obvious truth they shared in.

One of Byakuya's hands trailed up to cup Ichigo's neck, and the other edged them even closer together while Ichigo's hands slid from the man's shoulders and grasped both sides of Byakuya's nape underneath his hair. Ichigo had never kissed anyone, and if you had've asked him before, he would've thought he'd be sloppy, an awkward novice, but his mouth seemed born to kiss Byakuya's, and it was as if he just knew how without thought. He knew when to plunge his tongue in and the way to move and massage it against Byakuya's own, and oh god, did Byakuya know just how to kiss him back. Their kiss was penetrating, needy and steady without being bumbling and careless, and by the second, it grew more and more possessive and bruising.

A heat consumed all thought as Byakuya nipped and sucked at Ichigo's bottom lip, and Ichigo moved them against the railing, running one of his hands down Byakuya's back in a need to know the man's body with more accuracy. When his hand caressed the noble's supple bottom and a moan breached the confines of those perfectly blushed lips, they broke apart just a bit and rested their foreheads against each others in an attempt to catch the breaths they had fed to one another.

During the whole endeavor, neither looked in each other's eyes, as if they shared a silent agreement that it would complicate and break whatever bonded the two in that moment. It would make the world around them come back into perspective and give breath to all the reasons that they shouldn't be doing this.

During this moment, Ichigo had not once thought of Rukia. It was as if they existed in a vacuum, and none of their baggage could get in, but when Ichigo opened his eyes and saw the way Byakuya's fluttered, saw the way they were drowned in something so unusual and beautiful, something so different than what he was use to seeing in the man, reality came crashing down on him. His gray swirls pierced the air with something so earnest and real, and damn it if Rukia's memory and his feelings for her didn't have to ruin it all, because all those emotions surging in the air around them became too much. He looked too much like her, yet not like her at all, and maybe it was just because that look reminded him of the way Rukia would never look at him, but he couldn't take it.

Even though Byakuya was latched, perhaps filled with the same fear but just as much hope to overcome it, when Ichigo jolted from their touch as if they had been engaging in something dirty and wrong, he did not attempt to hold the man back. He let him free, and Ichigo noticed something both naked and guarded in the man's expression.

Ichigo pulled at his hair and created distance, stepping back so the whole length of the gazebo separated them. It might as well have been an ocean.

"What the hell?" he baffled, "That was rash, even for me. I- I mean, what the hell were we just doing? What were you doing? It's not too off for me to do stupid, rash things, but you?" He shook his hand in confusion. "Why?"

Despite how many times Ichigo had only wished to not look at Byakuya that evening, despite his own frothing shock and anger, when the noble closed his eyes, Ichigo felt so frigid and wrong at how those eyes blazed for him, only to hide themselves away at Ichigo's thoughtlessness. Like a meteor flashing across the sky for a transient moment, just like that, that rare and raw instant had passed, and he craved nothing more than to have it back. At the same time, he didn't. Like always, he was full of contradictions.

"Perhaps for you this was a rashly made choice, but the same can not be said for me."

Ichigo didn't understand.

"What?"

Byakuya opened his eyes, and they looked at him with the full weight and protection of a glacier. Ichigo, despite how burning up he felt, shivered at the sight.

"I believe there is little left up to interpretation in my words."

And with that, Byakuya walked slowly passed an enduringly confused Ichigo and down the steps. There was plenty of time for Ichigo to stop the noble if he so desired, but they both knew he wouldn't.