Only struggling at the first insistent touch on his shoulders - and then, out of surprise more than anything - Ichigo allows himself to be settled back into the cradle of Rukia's lap. He gives a soft groan when she starts to work at the growing lines on his forehead. The touch is nice, beyond pleasant, but he still feels strangely as if he doesn't deserve it for all the whining he's been doing.

"I know," he says. Not dismissive, though it would be easy for someone who didn't know him well to assume he hadn't been listening, and well, to Rukia's words. "I know. It's just. Not as easy to do as it is to say. And I ... "

No longer bothering with stumbling over words, he reaches a hand up to Rukia's face, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips, small and pink and petal-soft. He remembers kissing them, just once, and wonders if he could do it again, right here, right now.