Greetings again! At last I am back with another fanfic. I meant to post this long ago but for one reason or another got incredibly distracted.
Regardless! Hope you all enjoy.:)
WARNINGS: references to rape and abuse.
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School is shit. Every kid knows that, and as I sat in my boring-as-fuck English class I thought I knew that better than anyone. If anything I deserved a fucking medal for sitting in this class with sanity intact.
My name is Grimmjow Jaegerjaques (you make a snarky comment about my name and you'll quickly find your ass inside a trash can and your head somewhere floating in the nearby lake). I'm sixteen years old, a junior in high school, and co-captain of the football team. I didn't care much for the sport itself, but I did like being active. I liked moving, strategizing, I liked beating the shit out of people at their own game. Most of all though, the real reason I played football…it was a distraction.
Some thoughts were better left unthought, and football allowed me that wimpy, sorry-ass excuse to not acknowledge it.
Currently I was sitting at my desk having long ago stopped listening to my teacher lecture about an author Ezra Pound. Apparently he was a Nazi or something…? Hell if I knew.
Hell if I cared.
I had ripped up several sheets of paper from my folder and was now rolling them into little balls to throw at Ichigo. Ichigo, the asshole currently sleeping in his desk beside me, the asshole that should be entertaining me and not allowing me to suffer through this god-forsaken class alone.
I said all that, but once I finished creating all my balls I couldn't bring myself to fling them. What if Ichigo was sleeping because he'd had a bad night? What kind of asshole would I be if I ruined the few minutes of reprieve he was getting now?
So I refrained. Instead I bounced a single ball between my fingers as I looked out the window. It was our first class of the day, and the sun was still bright and high in the sky. Sometimes I felt begrudged when the sky's mood didn't mirror my own. I was in a shitty mood, so why should the outside world be allowed to be so damn happy?
Ichigo was situated between me and the sun, and the bright rays radiated through Ichigo's just as bright hair. It was almost blinding (beautiful). Maybe my mood wasn't so sullen, after all.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Ichigo jolted into an upright position. His eyes were wide with confusion and his forehead had a red blotched spot I was much-too-tempted to poke.
I ultimately fell into the temptation, and he grunted at my hard poke. "You fell asleep, dumbass. You left me to fend for myself in the worst class."
I now noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and I stopped talking. He grumbled. "Sorry, Grimm," he said as he stood and gathered his belongings up. I did the same, and we walked to our next class together. It was Calculus, a class Ichigo was recommended to join because of his potential, and a class I was in merely because Ichigo'd be there.
We walked into the classroom and, as usual, we settled into the corner of the back row. He rested his head on his folded arms, and I sensed if I didn't intervene soon he'd be taking another nap.
I yanked a sheet of paper out of my folder. I scribbled onto it then passed it to Ichigo.
He read it carefully, and I could tell he took the time to contemplate his answer before pulling out his pen (he hates pencil and refuses to write with it for anything other than Calculus exams).
He passed it back.
How was your day after I left last night? He come home?
Lonely, wish you'd stayed. He called and said he wouldn't be back til Wednesday. You have practice today?
That first sentence alone boosted my ego until I felt nearly unstoppable. How could one person make me feel so strong, so useful? I would never, ever take Ichigo's trust for granted.
I wrote my response then passed it back.
Sorry, my parents were being assholes. Practice till 5:30. Wait for me?
Ichigo read it with the smallest twitch of a smile on his face before crumbling the paper into a ball, and I knew the answer was yes.
Neither of us paid attention in class, and it wasn't until lunchtime that we actually came to life a bit.
We sat at our usual table. Technically, neither of us had many friends (but we had each other and that's all I needed), but somehow a few people have flocked to us anyway. Rukia and Orihime sat with us, Orihime intentionally sitting beside Ichigo (I wanted to punch her in the throat). Ulquiorra and Nnoitra also sat with us.
Ichigo has never demonstrated a dislike to any of the people that sat with us, but I knew he didn't connect with them. They didn't know him (never would), so he didn't always see the point in making an effort. Don't get me wrong, he was always kind, but he didn't see them the way everyone else did.
It was a cynical perspective, but I didn't begrudge him of it. I'd be chatty enough for the both of us.
I snatched back the piece of bread that was "sneakily" stolen from me. "Nnoitra you motherfucker, keep your hands on your own food!"
"Fuck!" he howled, cackling at getting caught as he continued his discussion with Ulquiorra.
I gave the bread to Ichigo. "Eat this." Ichigo, who was the only one who didn't have a tray of food or lunchbox in front of him.
He took the bread not because he wanted it but because he knew I'd shove it into his mouth if he didn't.
When we were younger he'd been the fucking scrawniest kid in our grade. You could tell he wasn't fed, and he never ate at school like the rest of us did. His bones were sticking out and his face was thin and haunted.
When I got a little older I took matters into my own hands. I'd bring extra food every day and often sneak into his house to bring him snacks. In ninth grade, even after the hell he had lived through was over, he was still too small for my liking. So I began a vigorous self-defense regiment to toughen him up a bit more. Make him bigger, more muscular. Most importantly, make him not look so easy to take advantage of…
I shook my head of the thoughts, and I was back in the cafeteria. Ichigo was mechanically eating the bread, and when he was done with that I planned on giving him half my sandwich.
Orihime addressed Ichigo with her usual high-pitched (stupid stupid stupid) voice. "Kurosaki-kun, are you doing anything after school today? I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park."
That bitch. If a typical guy had to pick between hanging out with a guy friend or a girl friend with huge tits, the decision wouldn't be hard. In fact, it'd be the easiest fucking decision that guy'd make the rest of his life.
Thankfully, Ichigo was different. "Sorry Inoue, I already have plans today. Maybe some other time."
I fought the smirk that threatened to arise at the look of Orihime's rejection. That dejected look on her ugly face was perfect.
Ichigo didn't talk the rest of lunch, and he had eaten half of half of my sandwich before giving it back to me. I wanted him to eat, but I didn't push him. He couldn't stomach large amounts of food (any amount of food), so I was okay with feeding him in small doses.
Lunch ended and Ichigo and I departed to our next class together.
Ichigo and I shared every single one of our classes together. I had thoroughly convinced my parents (wealthy donators to the school) to get Ichi and I together, and the administration was hard-pressed to disobey.
The next class passed in a blur, and actually so did the rest of them. I just wasn't in the mood to think today. I'd listen better tomorrow.
Not.
The last class of the day was Chemistry, and the teacher gave me the evil eye as I strolled to the back of the class and sat down. I was almost tempted to prop my feet up on the desk in front of me just to piss him off.
We weren't on good terms.
Not long into the lecture and I noticed Ichigo spacing out from the corner of my eye. He did that a lot and, while I did the same, I was certain his thoughts strayed into much darker territory.
I threw a pencil at him. He jerks and turns to face me, and his face softens as his eyes land on mine. He knew just as well as I the reason behind my utensil launching.
He throws me the peace sign then puts his head down on his desk. His head rests snuggly between his arms, and within minutes he's asleep. I don't have anyone to fuck around with anymore, so I let my own thoughts stray.
Ichigo has had a horrible, horrible life. I wouldn't be surprised if he never truly recovered. He'd never be a normal, innocent, "I love the world" kind of guy. He lived through hell for years, and it wasn't even until 3 years ago that he was rescued from his abusers.
I thought back through our history together. We've gone to the same school since first grade. We'd always been almost-friends, but never true friends. Maybe "pleasant strangers" was the more accurate term.
I used to be a real bully, a thousand times worse than I am now (I changed for you Ichi), but Ichigo was the one kid I never touched. I hadn't known back then the extent of what he went through, but even as a young brat I could tell he needed something, someone.
So while I was beating up kids and stealing packed lunches, I was also sitting by Ichigo every day during recess. His body was too weak to play or run around, so we'd just sit and draw on the sidewalks with chalk. I still remember the day he accidentally drew a big stick-man on top of a small stick-boy. It wasn't until years later that I understood its meaning.
During that time we had been distant acquaintances, or "pleasant strangers". Outside of recess we never interacted, but I still watched him from afar. I'd go out of my way to observe him, because he'd been a puzzle I wanted to solve. He was sad, quiet, scared of people. Nobody touched him because he flinched at the slightest graze. He'd walk home with a trepidation rivaling a rabbit willingly walking into the mouth of an eagle. One day, when I was twelve, I decided to follow him home.
That was the first turning point in our friendship.
Believe it or not, my twelve-year old self was the one that rescued Ichigo from his abusers. Nobody else had fucking cared. The neighbors ignored his screams, the mailman acted like it was the wind, the teachers "never noticed anything strange" (fuck them and their lies). Every fucker in Ichigo's entire life has let him down in every single way imaginable.
A dark memory danced around the edges of my thoughts, and I remembered I was one of those fuckers too. Probably in the worst way.
But…that was for another time.
The bell rang and Ichigo's head flew off the desk. He looked confused as people packed up. It was amusing to watch the comprehension finally filter through his expression.
"Come on, Ichi," I said as I gathered my stuff.
The teacher yelled above the loud chatter of classmates. "Mr. Jaegerjaques! A moment, please?"
I rolled my eyes and groaned. Ichigo packed up his stuff, patting me on the back as he walked away. "I'll wait in the hall. Just get out alive."
The teacher had nothing important to say. Evidently I had a D in his class, and he chatted up a fucking storm about how disappointed my parents would be and how I may have to repeat if I continued in the current trajectory.
None of it was news, and none of it concerned me either. Even if I did get a D my parents would hurl enough money at the school they'd never fail me. Hell, money was the only reason I passed Geometry and Biology.
I finally walked out of the classroom to immediately search out Ichi's bright hair. He wasn't outside the room, and I turned the corner to find him at the end of the hall, leaning against a set of lockers as Shuuhei talked to him.
My hands tightened to fists. I suddenly wanted to kill someone.
I didn't like Shuuhei.
He was currently talking animatedly to Ichigo, his hands moving in sync with his words. His body was situated close (too close too close too close) to Ichigo's, and Ichigo's facial expression screamed uncomfortable.
But maybe it was only "screaming" to someone like me, who's long since memorized his every facial expression. He rarely displayed his emotions. His past had taught him that emotions weren't safe.
And now I was angry for a whole other reason.
As I got closer Shuuhei continued chatting him up, and even continued doing so when I was standing side-by-side with him.
My hand landed dauntingly on his shoulder. Shuuhei's mouth closed. That got him to shut the fuck up.
Both Ichigo and Shuuhei's gazes struck me simultaneously, one relieved and one perturbed. Shuuhei looked at me like I was a nuisance that was getting in the way, an unwanted third party, a fucking third wheel.
He was displeased at my arrival but said nothing of it. He created distance between Ichigo and himself (I felt my heart lift with relief, like an anchor being released from a sinking ship). He ignored my presence entirely, offering Ichigo a "Goodbye, Ichigo. I'll talk to you later" before strutting off.
I waited for him to turn the corner before I began my grilling.
My blue eyes were murderous and angrier than ever as I looked at Ichi. "What the fuck did that bastard want from you, Ichi? Why the fuck was he talking to you?"
I was so stupid, so ignorant. After all the years Ichigo's had to deal with this I still missed the signs sometimes. I still fucked up. It was only after I spoke that I noticed the tight fists his hands were morphed into. His pupils were constricted and eyes unblinking, and his head had slight tremors. I understood the telltale signs, and I burst into action with a level of adrenaline that I'd never get used to and hoped I never did.
I shushed him gently even though he made no noises, hoping it somehow comforted him as much as it oddly comforted me. I ushered him into the nearby men's bathroom, ecstatic to find it empty.
Ichigo wasted no time. He unclenched his fists and wrapped his thin arms around my waist, his hands slipping beneath my shirt and resting on my lower back. He burrowed his nose into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply as his body shook.
I wrapped my arms around his body with just as much fervor, just as much intensity. I could feel my heart beating insanely out of my chest and I absently wondered if Ichigo could feel it.
It's been like this ever since the very day I saved him from his hell. I'd been the first person, the one person to make him feel safe, and ever since then I've been his anchor, his constant. I was honored beyond words, because he was the same to me as I was to him.
I squeezed my arms tighter around him. This? This was something I'd never get bored of. I didn't care that my best friend (the one I loved more than anyone) was straight. If he didn't know my feelings then metaphorical shit would never hit the metaphorical fan, and he could continue seeking comfort in me like he's done every time for the past four years.
I needed him to need me. I needed it more than I needed to breathe.
The minutes past by both fast and slow, and too soon (too fucking soon) Ichigo had relaxed into my touch before pulling away.
"Thanks Grimm."
You are so fucking welcome.
I grinned like an asshole. "Don't let it happen again, Berry."
Why did I say that?
Thankfully he wasn't offended (had probably gotten used to my abhorrent personality) and he led us out of the bathroom. "What time is it?" Ichigo asked. I hated he was completely ignoring what just happened.
I allowed it this once, and I checked my watch. "3:17."
Ichigo's head jerked to face me and he punched my shoulder. "You have fucking football practice at 3:30."
I'd completely forgotten. "Shit."
I grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, and we flew down the halls toward the boys' locker room. By the time we got there the last teammate was leaving, the locker room now empty save for us two. I immediately started stripping, and when I was unbuttoning my jeans I surreptitiously glanced at Ichigo. He wasn't looking at me. His back was to me, and instead he eyed the line of trophies sitting on a tall table.
I honestly wish he'd look.
I ignored the pang.
Dressing for a sport like football was tedious as a motherfucker, but at 3:24 I was done and we jogged to the miniature arena. Ichi sat on a nearby bench while I took the field and joined the crowd of football players that were huddled together.
The coach had us begin with the usual running drills and it got a good sweat working. After our warm-ups we gathered back up and coach spat out orders.
"Shuuhei, Jaegerjaques, split the team."
I ignored the irrational spasm of wrath at Shuuhei's name. Shuuhei was the other co-captain, and the coach wanted us to scrimmage.
We did as we were told, splitting the group down the middle, fourteen on each team.
We were getting into position when I glanced at Shuuhei as Shuuhei looked to the left. My nostrils flared as I observed the exact moment that Shuuhei noticed Ichigo sitting on the bench. His eyes suddenly held a spark of excitement, and I bit my teeth into my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
I have never liked you, I have never respected you, but you triggered Ichi, and that's something I'll never forgive.
I explicitly ignored the sharp spasm of jealousy and fierce "he's not yours he's mine!".
…I was so fucked up.
The scrimmage was grueling and I was covered in sweat by the time we finally wrapped up practice. My team only won by 3 points, not nearly enough for me to feel satisfied with crushing Shuuhei to a pulp. I wanted him on his knees, covered in blood, missing limbs, fucking dead.
"—Jaegerjaques!"
My attention flew back to the coach. "Sorry Coach."
He continued speaking to the team, not missing a beat, and I zoned out again. He wasn't even directly addressing me, he was just giving the usual pep talk since we had a home game next Friday. Next Friday, this shit was way too soon for pep talks.
Ten minutes later and I was crossing the field to meet up with Ichigo. From the corner of my eye I saw Shuuhei watch me, and I got the feeling any attempt he was going to make on Ichigo was postponed. Good.
Ichigo nodded his greetings, noticing only me as he gathered his backpack then walked beside me. We left the field, and I punted changing back into my other clothes. I'd change at Ichigo's place.
We trekked home (his home is my home), and I asked, "How did I do?"
He contemplated. "You missed an open pass to Renji and should've went for the Hail Mary in the last play. Defensively you seemed too focused on Shuuhei and failed to notice Ichimaru run the ball." He turned to look at me. "Those were the only parts that required improvement, though. You honestly did very well."
My eyes stared into his, and my heart thumped in ache. He was the only friend that provided constructive criticism so thoroughly. I was truly, truly honored.
I quickly played it off, punching him in the shoulder. "Whatever." I didn't care it was me who asked him, that it was me who initiated it. I was done talking about it. "You said Chuck would be back Wednesday right?"
Ichi nodded. "Yeah."
"You think he'll be drunk?"
"Probably."
I pondered that. Of all the things I wanted in life, of all the things I prioritized most, Ichigo's safety was #1.
"Want me to stay over Wednesday?"
We were nearing Ichigo's place now, and I pushed a hanging tree branch out of the way for him. His neighborhood was poorer, not as well-kept as most.
He shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine. He's harmless."
"Let me rephrase." Ichi raised an eyebrow at me. We reached his house and I unlocked the door with the copied key Ichigo had long before given me. I stepped past the threshold. "I'll be staying over Wednesday."
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And that completes Chapter 1! Hope you all enjoyed enough to stay around for Chapter 2.:) For new readers, I update weekly. If I'm not punctual please assume I'm dead. XD
Until next time!
