Ichigo scoffed slightly as he saw your gaze. He claimed not to care, yet there he was, tending to your wound on his living room floor.

Your sprained ankle concerned him. He applied pressure to the ice pack on your ankle, constantly telling you things like ‘Does it hurt?’ or ‘Tell me if this bothers you.’.

After a while of silence, he sighed heavily and spoke in an annoyed tone.

“Why’d you have to go and help decorate the place.. you idiot, I told you i’d do it.”