Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. All rights and reserves belong to Tite Kubo.
Warnings: Language, Intensely sad scenes (don't worry it get's better later), drug use, slight paranoia.
This story is about Grimmjow and Ichigo, they have a very complicated relationship with each other. Read the damn story for the description. :) Loosely based on the song 'She will be loved by Maroon 5', who isn't a bad singer no matter what people think.
Beauty queen of only eighteen, she had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her,
She always belonged to someone else.
I drove for miles and miles and wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow i want more.
I don't mind spending everyday, out on your corner in the pouring rain.
Look for the girl with the broken smile,
And ask her if she wants to stay awhile.
And she will be loved.
Okay! Enough of the sappy lyrics and onto the drama! Sorry its kinda sad, but uh, yeah, i wanted to do a more emotion filled fic than i'm primarily accostomed to. So without further adou (if thats how you spell it), here is the first chapter of He Will Be Loved.
He turned on his blinkers, and changed lanes, hearing a soft clunk thunk as he did so. It was raining cats and dogs and fish that night, the sky was an ominous shade of orange. Lightning flashed, suddenly and fiercely, and shortly after the thunder boomed, close by, drowning out all other noises. So he didn't hear the honk of the cars behind him, he didn't notice them changing lanes only to get in front and speed off. It was the highway after all, and fifteen miles per hour is simply unacceptable. But the highway patrol and all other city cops were busy attending to other matters.
Karakura Town, once a very small calm suburbian child, had turned into a crime riddled, angst filled teen in recent years. It wasn't surprising to get one or two murders every other night, especially when weather got like this. It made it so easy to hide all evidence. That was what Grimmjow had been thinking anyways, as he relit a cigarette he'd been smoking when his friend had called. He had been right in the middle of banging his gorgeous wife Harribel when the phone rang, of course the answering machine picked up, and then that normally silky smooth voice had begun talking, saying some nonsense like:
"I don't know what to do or who to call. I…I know its late and your probably sleeping but, when you wake up, please…PLEASE COME RESCUE ME!" And then some sobs had ensued followed by an address. Like always, the bluenette had gotten up, gotten dressed, and left his fuming wife alone in the dark of their bedroom to go out and save his best friend. Well, that's what friends are for anyways right? But Ichigo was really beginning to abuse the right.
Or maybe…he had begun to abuse the right the moment they met, before Grimmjow was married, before the kid was even out of high school. He'd been wet around the ears, shivering, thin little thing, ran away from home for only gods knew what and turned to prostitution. That was how Grimmjow had met him, he'd been patrolling the streets, looking for someone anyone to take away the gnawing hunger in his chest and that was when he found him. He'd been talking, begging this man to take him home with him, pestering him, with an undeniable shake of a crack addict. Grimmjow had been there, done that, a long time ago, and had rehabilitated, thanks to the help of no one but himself. So he picked up the kid, took him home, and tried to help him adjust without the stuff.
He'd learned a lot about him, but he wanted to know more, about why sometimes his bright brown eyes got so dark and he began muttering things in a strange distorted voice. And when things got too bad, Grimmjow just fucked him until he slept. Sometimes that was the only way the boy would fall asleep. And after a short two months living together, Ichigo had disappeared, taking only twenty bucks and a change of clothes. He left no note, he left no sign he'd even been there, making Grimmjow think it was some kind of dream, or joke played on him by vengeful gods. But he'd found him again, in the middle of a crack deal out in the slums, begging for dollars and in exchange, he'd give them anything. And he meant anything.
So here they were, three years later, still good friends, only Grimmjow had grown up, moved on, and Ichigo had stayed on the streets. Occasionally he was picked up by some psycho path, or even a cop once or twice. He was never sent to jail, because Harribel was one of the best lawyers in town, but who knew for how long this would last? Who knew when Ichigo would finally break down, and there'd be a big headline in the newspaper saying 'Local Teen Found Shot in Alleyway, Police Investigate'? And underneath it was a picture of a sad broken figure, lying in his own blood, orange hair matted to his forehead, his eyes sunken in and his gorgeous tanned skin a pale mockery of its former glory. Grimmjow wanted to abandon him so his death would be a little less painful, but there was always a small chance that the boy would come back to him. That they could really work through his problems, get him a psychiatrist, and maybe a job after a while.
Another loud honk broke him out of his haze of memories and he thanked whoever was watching over him (if there was someone at all, it was something he always doubted) that he was just one exit away from where Ichigo was. He was hoping that he wouldn't come home with a big bruise like last time, Harribel would never forgive Ichigo for what he put him through. She didn't like how in the middle of intimate love making, the orange head could simply call and Grimmjow would stop what he was doing, drop everything and leave. She said it was like living with a ghost.
Could he make himself care? No…not really. All that mattered was that he got there in time to save him. It wasn't like he was in love with the boy, he just didn't want to see him hurt any more than he already was. It was like the little injured bird in the park, you have to go help it, mend it, and you won't mind when it flies away from you, because that's why you helped it in the first place. So it could be set free, to fly again with its companions. You just felt a little melancholy when you watched it fly away without a backwards glance, or a thank you. But can you really blame it? No, of course not.
He turned on his blinkers again, and cut across three lanes to make the exit, ignoring the horns around him. It was their fault for being out this late anyways, he was quite positive none of them were out to save their prostitute friend, so why the hell were their boxers in a knot? Grimmjow easily wove his way through the streets, searching for the address he had written hastily on the back of his hand. He found it a moment after he passed it and screeched to a shuddering halt, much to the chagrin of the driver behind him, who let him know his anger by two short honks and a turned up middle finger. Which he would've returned along with a few suggestive lines about what he could do with that middle finger, but he wasn't paying attention.
He was out of his car in a flash, rain quickly soaking through his light jacket and thin undershirt he'd thrown on, and pressing his spiky blue hair down to his head. He saw a huddled up figure, crying next to a telephone booth, wearing only a sheet and a pair of white socks. He would've passed right by if he hadn't noticed the shock of orange among the brown and grey. Luckily, he could spot him from a mile away, blindfolded and walking backwards. Without hesitation, he scooped up the light figure and gently laid him in the passenger side, not once making any complaints about his seat being soaked through. Though he would have yelled at Harribel if she'd so much as gotten mud on the floors of the expensive vehical. This car was his baby, he'd bought for himself, by himself, and he loved it like a well-tuned child, of which Grimmjow and Harribel had none, because he didn't want kids. He found them to be too whiny and loud.
Ichigo didn't even acknowledge being picked up, but once he was in the car, he fell promptly asleep, and Grimmjow smiled serenely at him, feeling warmth bubble up inside. He didn't look especially hurt, and besides a slight tremor in his limbs, he didn't see any sign of drug use. In fact, he didn't see anything wrong and he wondered why he'd been called. Maybe he'd just decided to run away again, before things got too personal, before he got better. He pulled back out of the parking space in time to see a big burly man with rippling muscles and long spiked up hair run down the stairs and glare right into the car.
He was yelling something, his eyes getting more wild and desperate as the car got further and further away. The man was shirtless but he still decided running after the car in the pouring rain was a good idea, and Grimmjow was sure he would have kept running after them had they not gotten onto the freeway. The bluenette shook his head sadly, yep, he'd been there, so desperate to get Ichigo back that he would walk or run for miles and miles, just to keep him in sight. But the harder you ran after him, the farther he got away, much like that metaphorical bird. Ichigo chose you, not the other way around. No exceptions, no take backs.
He dialed a number on his phone and jumped when it began ringing directly in his ear, forgetting that he had a Bluetooth in. After the third ring, it picked up, to a very sleepy voice. And amazingly enough, his voice sounded like that all the time, not because it was now three o clock in the morning.
"This is the Starrk residence." The voice said, followed by a long obnoxious yawn.
Grimmjow sighed, he hated asking for favors like this, but Harribel would not have Ichigo in the house, she said she didn't trust crack heads. He had to tell himself over and over that she was his wife- a woman- and he wouldn't lay a hand on her. But if she got one more hair on that chin he was taking her ass down.
"Yo, this is Grimmjow, I got a favor to ask." There was a disgusted sigh, the other man not bothering to cover up his distaste.
"At three in the morning? I can only imagine what that favor is like." And then after a long pause, "If there's bail concerned, forget it, I'm in my boxers and I ain't changing 'cuz your ass got pulled over for driving too slow."
Grimmjow shook his head, narrowly missing another car as he turned left at a red light. His eyes were drooping, and he needed to drop Ichi off and get back home before Harribel started suspecting anything. After a short while, he pulled up to Starrks house, one of the nicer ones in the neighborhood. "It's Ichi again." Was all he said, walking around to the passenger's side, the cold seeping into his very skin, waking him up again. When it got too rainy all he wanted to do was go take a nap and wait it out. He was like a cat in that way. The door opened, and Starrk stood there, leaning on the doorframe. The bluenette had known he would say yes, he just wanted to give a little heads up beforehand.
He hefted Ichigo into his arms, noticing vaguely that he was way too light, but he was too tired to be very concerned about that. And plus, Szayel could come over the next day and check on Ichi, and he would, because he loved Ichi just as much as the others. Everyone cared about him, but he didn't seem to reciprocate any of their feelings. It was like trying to flirt with a brick wall. And that wasn't Ichigo's fault, per say, because he'd been broken beyond repair a long time ago. The memory was still fresh in Ichigo's mind though, fresh enough that he woke up screaming on bad nights, usually whimpering in the others. He'd given up trying to keep him around, because someone that broken, could never be the same again, could never be whole again.
Like a glass vase. Once it shattered, into a million tiny pieces, there were very few that would take the time to collect all the pieces and put it together again, knowing that they'd get cut, and knowing there'd still be a spider web of cracks along its outside. All Ichigo needed was that one person who would do that for him, who'd stain that glass rose colored and make it a work of art. A masterpiece, like he was meant to be.
He reluctantly handed him over to Starrk who grumbled something about wet dogs and shut the door in his face, leaving him out standing in the cold, wanting to imprint the last few moment's they'd had, to remember how it felt when their heartbeats were synchronized. But he turned, and pulled up his hood, though now it was just as soaked through as the rest of him, and he trudged back to his car, now his limbs felt heavy as he dragged himself home, to where Harribel would be angrily awaiting his return. There'd be some shouting, some death threats, but after Grimmjow stood staring through her like she didn't even exist, she'd give up and smack him upside the head before heading off to bed, throwing some blankets and a pillow on the couch.
He nodded, it sounded like a good plan to him. He revved his engine and drove off, screeching around corners, the fast pace keeping him awake and alert, at least until he got home. The adrenaline would run out and he'd be so out of it, one could confuse him for a zombie.
Because that was how it always went, when Ichigo came back to him.
Brown eyes opened to a well decorated living room. He felt warm, warmer than he'd felt in a long time, and he sat up slowly, wincing at the throbbing headache that was building with each moment. Ichigo had been lying on a long red couch, covered by what could only be ten blankets and a few sheets. He was wearing some huge boxers with little howling wolves on it, but other than that, he seemed to be in working order.
He didn't remember how he'd gotten here, but he did remember calling Grimmjow, and he assumed that his savior had come and picked him up, saving him from Kenpachi, his newest client. The man had been getting too clingy, too lovey dovey and as Ichigo pulled away, the man held tighter suffocating him to the point where he really felt like he couldn't breathe. So he'd done what he does best, he ran.
He heard a small noise off to the side, and he looked in that direction, his eyes landing on Coyote Starrk, who had fallen asleep before he'd even made it to a chair, or his bedroom for that matter. Ichigo threw off his covers, hating the tremor in his limbs as he stood and walked over to Starrk, trying but failing to at least pull him onto the living room chair. So instead he covered him with a few blankets and made his way into the kitchen.
The man's daughter Lilynette, sat at the island in the kitchen, reading a newspaper, with her legs crossed at the ankles. Her sea foam green hair was pulled back in a tiny pigtail, and her pink eyes flickered to Ichigo and then back at the comics she was reading, obviously not too surprised to see him there. As usual, she was wearing a very revealing outfit which consisted of: pink panties and a bright orange shirt with a picture of a kitten yawning that said 'Not a Morning Person'. He opened all the cabinets and found what he was looking for, pancake mix. Lilynette and Coyote both loved pancakes to the extent of it almost being an addiction. It was probably much more healthy than his. He knew he had to eat too, because he didn't remember the last time he had, the thought had just slipped his mind.
Until he saw his host lying face down on the floor, drooling all over his expensive imported carpet, he hadn't thought of health at all. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he showered, or brushed his teeth, or even comb the rats nest that was his hair. In fact, he hadn't cut his hair in so long, it trailed down his back in knots and tangles that would be almost fun trying to figure out. The top was still cropped short though, probably someone's attempt at making it at least look fashionable.
Lilynette set her newspaper down as soon as she smelled the pancakes, and she drifted over hesitantly, peeking over his shoulder at the light gold fluffy disks. Starrk even woke up to come and sit at the island, crossing his arms on the surface and lying his head down on top of them. He piled up the pancakes, and watched them disappear one by one or two by two in Lilynette's case. He even ate half of one himself, leaving the rest to them.
Then he took his leave to go and take a shower, though, it wasn't much of a shower. He kinda just washed his hair and stood under the hot water until he had built up the courage to step back out and look at himself in the mirror. And when he did, he gasped, dropping the towel to the floor. He stared at the pale person in front of him, white hair cut short and slightly spiky, and the rest down. The man looked exactly like him, but totally wrong and different. Gold on black eyes stared back at him, with a very pitying look, the lower half of the man's face was covered by a black mask. He would've thought the image was cool, if it weren't for the fact that the image moved when he didn't, and walked up to the very edge of the mirror, and rested his hand on the glass.
"King…look at ya. You're all skin and bones. What happened to all that muscle huh? Why have you been shutting me out? I just wanna help you…let me help you. I'm not gonna let you kill us, Ichi. I won't, I'll take over if this gets much worse." Ichigo then watched as those fingers broke through the glass of the mirror, the cold surface rippling like water as he stepped through, directly in front of him. The pity died in those strange inverted eyes as he stepped so close to Ichigo he could feel the cold radiating out of him like a refrigerator. "And cut your fuckin hair, your starting to look like Zangetsu." And then, just like that, he was gone, and Ichigo felt weak, like the energy had been drained from his body. He gripped the edge of the sink, but he still slid to the floor, the cold tiles against his bare skin felt good.
He remembered when Zangetsu and Shirosaki had first appeared to him, he was only fifteen years old, and they'd told him to leave home before things got much worse. And they'd guided him to a halfway home, but he'd left, and shut them out of his head with the only thing he knew that worked. And that was drugs, lots and lots of drugs, whether he had to smoke it, inject it, inhale it, or take it like a pill, he constantly had something running through his system. But he couldn't keep that up for very long.
He needed cash, and no one was willing to hire some gangly orange haired druggie, excusing the fact that he was at this time seventeen and didn't have a high school degree. So he did something he'd been doing since he was thirteen, he'd started having sex for money. And that had worked out really well, until the blue haired man had come by.
He'd fed him well, and kept him warm and safe, but he wouldn't let him have any drugs, and the two came back with a vengeance. He found himself battling off visions of them every waking moment of everyday. And though he really liked being with the man, he simply couldn't stay there any longer. So he'd left and now, three years later, he was still seeing the two apparitions, and now they were feeling bad for him. And if that wasn't enough, he felt that headache take over and his body burn up, and some cuts he didn't even know he'd had started hurting as they reopened, leaving a bloody mess on Starrks bathroom floor. The floor seemed to come up to meet him as his vision went black, and he fell into a dream about Zangetsu and Shirosaki having a little tea party on the side of a tall skyscraper. Or what was once a tall skyscraper the tops were disintegrating, and the accumulated rain water swallowed up the lower half of the building.
He smiled as he walked up to them, and they sat and chatted with him, pretending like they didn't see what was before them. If things continued in this way, they knew that Ichigo would die, or go insane, and their world would be lost forever, as well as their 'King'.
Grimmjow had dropped off Harribel at the courthouse, and she'd yelled at him about the seat being wet and getting her expensive suit stained. He'd argued back that you can't stain anything with water and she'd stormed out, knowing that she was wrong, and that she'd lost the argument. The rain had continued, and now the news was telling them there'd be a monsoon, though it was unusual for this time of year, that they should expect the worse, and have a flood kit prepared. With that in mind, he'd headed over to Starrks house, ignoring the calls from Ulquiorra that he knew would be to tell him he was late and should be at work. And he was probably getting aggravated about Szayel, Coyote, Neliel, Grimmjow, and Nnoitora not showing up for work. But they were all going to be watching over Ichigo for as long as he hung around.
People were just attracted to him like moths to a flame, like bees to honey. He was sure that if his old friends were to hear about his reappearance they'd be over in a flash. But with the way things were, Ichigo always said he didn't want them to see him. Not how he was, and he refused to get better, so he would never see them again. By now, his old friends and his family had probably given up on him, if they could, the boy was just too addicting. He was all the fix that Grimmjow needed, but now he was starting to sound like a psychopath.
"Get it together, Grimmjow." He growled, making a sharp left and screeching to a halt at the end of the block. As expected, everyone was there, the long string of cars on the street spoke of the mayhem going on inside. And soon he'd be adding to it, and after a few hours, Harribel would be too, very reluctantly. She hated Ichigo and tried to convince the others to let go of him before it was too late. Of course, none of them listened to her, and that only made the busty blonde even more unhappy. Today, he'd been expecting the rain, and he was wearing a thin but warm leather jacket, mercifully with a dry, fur lined hood.
He pulled it up, and fairly ran to the door, pushing it open when he realized it was slightly ajar. The bluenette closed the door after him, locking it with a decided click and stared slightly shocked at the quiet group gathered in the living room.
Starrk was awake and alert for once, breathing down Szayel's neck as he examined Ichigo with a very sad expression in his amber eyes. Neliel had her head bowed, her bright green trusses falling in her face as she tried to stifle the growing sobs. Nnoitora threw his dislike for her to the wind and had her hugged close to his chest, grimacing at no one in particular. Even little Lilynette was in the living room, sitting in the middle of the carpeted floor, hugging her knees close to her chest. Grimmjow wondered momentarily what the fuck was going on, but he didn't say anything, instead he grabbed Coyote's shoulder and pulled him back, so he could get a closer look at Ichigo.
Now he saw that his bright orange hair was a lot longer, and his normally gorgeous polished skin was a pale dusty color. His muscles, normally just barely rippling below the surface of his skin seemed nonexistent. And he just saw the multitude of cuts all along his arms, and the burn marks on the lower part of his stomach, stretching around to his back. There was a new clean bandage wrapped around his left arm, and a new chain like tattoo wrapping up his right arm. Szayel checked his pulse one last time before sitting down with a sigh next to Neliel and Nnoitora.
Grimmjow moved a strand of orange hair out of his face, and he gingerly took the small cold hand in his own, kissing it tenderly. If he hadn't seen the slight rise and fall of his chest, he would think Ichigo was dead. Right now, he could count his rib bones, so thin was he. How had he not noticed this the day before? He swallowed down the lump in his throat. Somehow, he'd thought they'd have a bit more time with him, through all of the warnings his wife had given him, he still felt some kind of black hole opening up in the pit of his stomach. Looking in the sad eyes off all those gathered there told him that they were feeling it too. There was an empty spot in each of them now, a spot that Ichigo had always taken up, filled. They felt hollow, and empty, like strange tired versions of their former selves. Ichigo made them have some emotion, made them feel human, unlike Harribel and Ulquiorra, who didn't hang out with him much.
He brought them back down to earth, made them smile, made them laugh, made them angry enough to smash things, and times like this, made them want to cry a river and drown the whole world. Grimmjow sat back on his heels, trying to cover up the shaking of his own limbs. Some part of him couldn't stand Ichigo going so soon.
What the hell was he going to do without him?
Woah! This is the longest chapter i've ever done for any story! A whopping 5,000 words for one chapt? You gotta be fuckin kidding me, i shoulda spaced that out more.
They felt 'hollow' without him. -elbows you in the ribs- get it? Hollow! Cuz their arrancar! Ahaha, leave it to old sadistic me to find something funny in all that misery. Anyways, drop me a review if you liked it, cuz i may just leave it at this. I'm just delaying updating Naughty Strawberry Maid and Your Eyes Your Voice, and inevitably the second chapter of Owe You My Life, cuz some of my readers want it to be continued.
If you want more, tell me so, cuz i can and will leave it at this. Trust me, i've abandoned more stories than a publishing company! Oh yeah, and if my proverbs and weird rants seem kinda off, it's because their often transalted from Japanese, and we have sayings like 'Knowledge without wisdom is a load of books on the back of an ass.' Doesn't make much sense in English does it? No? Didn't think so.