Disclaimer: BLEACH belongs to Kubo Tite. The excerpt is taken and modified from an online article on a blog called Le Love.

Authoress' note: This extremely short piece serves a purpose to illustrate what I think of Ichigo's feelings towards Orihime when I think of it while turning my IchiRuki-loving genes off. Yes, Orihime is beautiful almost to a fault, but it doesn't mean she's the one Ichigo wants. I dislike it when people say that IchiHime is more likely to happen because Orihime is more beautiful compared to Rukia. Come on people…beauty is not everything.

The repetitive style is used to emphasise the few key points in this piece.

This story is filed under Ichigo and Orihime because those two are the characters involved in this story. Unless this site's regulations require me to file this under the pairing this story contains, I see no reason why I should file this under Ichigo and Rukia even though the pairing supported by this story is IchiRuki. Hope I make this clear and I do not wish to see any review complaining about why this is filed under so-called IchiHime. As far as I know, there is no 'IchiHime' category on this site, thank you very much. It is 'Ichigo' and 'Orihime', as separate characters, not as one entity.

Also, please be civilised when you leave a review. It will be much appreciated.

It was Me

You're incredibly beautiful, so beautiful it hurts

You're perfect, but you don't have that special something

You're beautiful, but you're not the one I wanted

I really, really like you…but not in that way

You're beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me

Even now, he still cursed that day.

He had no idea what drove her to say those three words to him. Everything had been fine before; he was her friend and she was his. So, when did their relationship take an unnoticed sharp turn of fate?

Perhaps it was his fault for being way too dense and clueless in romance.

She was beautiful. She was gorgeous. In fact, she could have been everything he ever wanted. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't love her.

So when she said those three words to him, he could only stand there befuddled, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

He remembered he had tried to lamely answer to her statement, but there wasn't any word coming out of his mouth. He was speechless. His mind and heart weren't in synchronisation with each other.

The more sensible part of him showed him everything he could see with his eyes. He could see that this person was beautiful, incredibly beautiful almost to a fault. He could see how much she had hoped for an answer which wouldn't break her heart and he could see that he should have given her that answer. He could see that doing otherwise would inflict her pain. He could even see that he didn't want to hurt her. Why would he want to hurt such a beautiful person ever? Even if he tried, he would never find a reason good enough to hurt her.

His heart, though, showed him everything he couldn't see with his eyes. His heart had wished that it was another person who was standing in front of him, staring at him straight in the eyes with a gleam of mischief and mystery on those beautiful violet irises. His heart had wished that those three words were spoken in her voice, which would have been quiet and controlled yet it would have delivered those three words firmly without any hesitation. His heart had wished that it was her…it was her who loved him.

He could see how beautiful the person in front of him was.

And he hated himself for being unable to love her back.

She was perfect. She was everything someone would have wanted from a girl. She was soft, demure and compassionate…she had delicate features which complemented her behaviour flawlessly. She was so beautiful that he believed he would become a terrible person just by inflicting pain upon her.

He didn't deserve to be loved by this beautiful person.

Yet she chose to give him all her heart and her soul.

Something must be very wrong with him. He should have wanted her. He should have responded to her confession ardently and ferociously. He should have accepted her love and returned it ten times more.

He had tried it. He had tried to love her in return, the way she wanted it to be. He had tried so hard to feel strongly for her. He had tried to give his heart and soul to her. He had even tried to lust after her.

And he had failed to do so…miserably.

So was it his fault to protect her from living in lies by telling her the truth?

Was it his fault to tell her that it wasn't her, it was him?

Was it his fault that it was him who was unable to return her love?

She was beautiful, so incredibly beautiful. And it hurt him so to tell her that he didn't feel that way.

It had hurt both of them when he told her that she didn't mean a thing to him. She was beautiful, but she wasn't the one he wanted.

It had hurt him to see how much she was hurt and how much she had tried to hide it underneath her poorly masked expression.

"I understand, Kurosaki-kun," she had said timidly. He couldn't help but hating himself when he saw the raw pain in her eyes.

Here he was again, failing to protect a heart from breaking.

She was special and he would have wanted her but he couldn't.

"I'm truly sorry, Inoue," he had replied almost inaudibly. "It's not you…it's me."

When she flashed him a smile before he walked away, he knew that he had never hated himself that much ever before. He could never hate her, no. It wasn't her fault that she chose to give all her love to him.

It was his fault.

It was his fault and his fault alone. He was the one who should accept all the blame for not being able to return the compassion this beautiful person had showered upon him.

He had tried.

He had tried not to cherish the idea of loving her.

He had tried to devote his love, his affection, his soul or even everything to her.

He had tried not to hurt this beautiful person.

He had tried to wish that she wasn't that beautiful. That she wasn't too beautiful to lie to. That she wasn't so beautiful, so beautiful that it broke his heart when he hurt her.

How could someone be so beautiful and perfect yet so undesirable?

He should be happy that someone as beautiful as her chose him as the object of her affection. He should be having the desire to protect her, to treat her like a man would and should, to kiss her passionately in exuberant moments…

He had tried to want her…in the end he didn't because he couldn't.

The one he wanted…was her.

FIN