[Bleach] Unrequited

He hasn’t seen the Quincy since their disastrous fight against the eighth Espada. Not since they both went their separate ways – Ishida to help Ichigo and Renji to face off against the tenth Espada with Rukia and Chad. And Renji knows that in all likelihood, with the war over, he’ll never see Ishida again.

He can’t put into words how much that thought depresses him.

Being around Ichigo had forced him into Ishida’s presence, had forced Renji to be around the Quincy. At first, Renji remembers hating the arrogant bastard. He always though he was so smart, so much better than the Shinigami he claimed to hate. And while Renji wanted to respect Ishida for his Quincy abilities, it was hard to do so when the prissy bastard insisted on insulting Renji at every opportunity.

He never would have thought they’d end up fighting together against the eighth Espada. And losing together as well, though that’s not the point. Renji knows Ishida hates having to get helped by Kurotsuchi-taichou as much as Renji does. They’d worked well together, better than Renji would have expected.

And how he can’t get the Quincy out of his mind. Not the teen’s pale skin or blue eyes, or the annoying way he’s always pushing up his glasses with one finger to make himself look superior or something stupid like that. Renji can’t forget the chilly bite of Ishida’s reiatsu, the flash of power from Ginrei Kujaku.

Renji thinks to himself that he’ll just push Ishida from his mind. If he throws himself into training, into celebrating the end of Aizen’s war, into the proceedings for possible promotion into the fifth division captaincy, he can slowly let Ishida fade from his thoughts.

He tries, but saying is a lot different than doing, and Renji still finds himself laying in his futon, eyes closed and imagining, as his hands works over his cock, releasing his frustrations. It’s strange and random, this obsession with a Quincy brat, and Renji can’t seem to fight it.

Renji’s sure, one day, it’s going to drive him mad. But until then, he bites his lip on a groan that’s dangerously close to the Quincy’s name, and spills over his fingers, resolved to having to wash his bedding yet again.


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