Another old gem sees the light! Aaah, it feels so good to finally give this a proper ending. I hope you enjoy this little piece and that you all have a brilliant day. Take care!

-Theoris

Grimmjow gazed out through the bar as a sudden realization dawned upon him. The door had barely closed behind him and already had a strong feeling engulfed his whole being; it was the feeling of being misplaced.

There was nothing visibly wrong with the bar – hell, he'd come here for months and nothing ever changed. The bartenders were decent guys, the furnishing was inviting and the drinks stayed perfectly balanced between too cheap and too expensive. As for the people, he'd sure seen plenty of them come and go, but the types were the usual ones. This evening though Grimmjow took in the laughter and all the fragments of the scattered conversations and came to the conclusion that nothing was really out of the ordinary, and that could only mean that there was something wrong within himself.

The bluenette hadn't exactly headed out for a peaceful drink in a familiar atmosphere – had he wanted that he wouldn't have left his apartment in the first place. No, tonight he was on the hunt. In fact, it was a habit he had taken up as soon as he'd set his foot in this new town. If you'd be bold enough to ask him what made the pick-up hobby so special to him, the tall and broad shouldered man would respond with a casual shrug and a broad smirk. His verbal answer wouldn't be further away from the bodily either; he enjoyed the sex, it was great meeting so many different people – some to keep in contact with for quite some time too – and the actual prowling was a thrill in itself. There was however more to the rumbling hunger he felt in his itching limbs as there was something lurking so deep in his blue glistening gaze that hardly anyone had ever stumbled upon it at all. The main reason he filled his time with so many sexual encounters was simply and bluntly to keep distracting himself from something much worse.

Not that there was anything strange about that either – he was an human being after all – but it didn't go well with his past and his views of himself as strong to the point of invincibility and incredibly independent. The entirety of his past hadn't always been that way, but it was the independent part that he clung to and would do anything to regain. After all, he had sort of proved it again for everyone as he'd left everything behind when moving here. Since he had cast away anything else to start anew, the pride he'd always been familiar with was his only companion left and his most treasured attribute. But on the other hand, it kept him from admitting to himself that he was lying to himself everyday.

This time it had taken him almost three weeks to return to this bar thanks to the varying work he had. A couple of weeks usually were nothing – hadn't it been for the twitching feeling that filled his gut occasionally - but tonight something would never be the same. He could feel it in the air, smell it even, and that annoyed the shit out of him. He would have to expand his territory and completely throw away this place for a new one. It didn't matter that he without any real effort already could spot several new and interesting faces in the crowd; if the feeling was off, so was the hunt. Grimmjow was a man of instinct after all.

Feeling disappointment sneak up to team with his already hovering annoyance, the bluenette headed for the counter deciding he'd enjoy one last drink before he left these broken hunting grounds behind once and for all.

While waiting for his scotch to be poured up, a group of people to the right called for his attention. It was a noisy crowd gathered around in a small table booth, laughing and cheering at the previously drawn joke by the center of the company. The man was skinny with short, messy white hair and dressed in a smug grin and a light colored shirt with black details. At first glance, Grimmjow had thought the male to be naked, being deceived by the paleness of the stranger's skin. The crowd eagerly rode out their joy and once more sat in utter silence devouring what came next from their favorite entertainer. They sat too far off in the bar for Grimmjow to be able to make out what they said and soon the folks roared out again, doubling over and clutching their knees. The albino smiled with them but suddenly he looked up and caught hold of the bluenette staring at him. As if being abruptly awaking from a slumber, Grimmjow blinked several times and narrowed his eyes before he grabbed his drink and paid the bartender. As he handed Grimmjow back his change, the latter glanced to the right again and found the whitehead not only still facing him, but actually waving him closer. The bluenette took his glass and headed further back to the opposite row of tables, settling down there and not looking back. He let his body language do the rest since he wasn't here to associate – at least not any longer. Tonight was the only aim to take a silent farewell of the safe grounds he'd spent months on. With this in mind, to say his face grasped the expression of scowling when the pale fellow decided to approach him anyway was very much an understatement. It did the stranger no harm however as he nonchalant pulled out one of the two remaining chairs around Grimmjow's table and leaned back in it with a wide smile. The bluenette scanned irritated eyes quickly over the man's body, calculating in silence whether the albino would pose a threat to him or not if he decided to start a brawl right there and then. He soon noted the obvious advantage in size and decided his caution wasn't necessary, but when he reached the stranger's face his train of thought changed entirely.

"Why the fuck are you wearing contacts?"

At his question the albino's curious-looking eyes went wider in surprise and instead of embracing a more hostile approach that Grimmjow had aimed for with his rude question the man in white let loose a throaty and well-amused laugh. His head was forced back and his light teeth spread apart, showing a tongue that was a shade darker than the usual. Before Grimmjow had time to comment on that too, a lean hand with black painted nails stretched out I front of him.

"You're one funny guy, aren't you? I like you. What's your name?"

The smile that was aimed to be warm and inviting turned into something closer to mischievous and almost deceiving thanks to the golden color of his eyes and the intense glint that could be found just above their surface. Grimmjow took a deep breath to calm his slowly growing rage somewhat and prepared himself to tell the guy to get lost in the most composed way he could manage at the moment.

"Get the fuck out of my face or I'll break yours for you."

The stranger raised one eyebrow in response. He lowered his hand but kept his grin on, to Grimmjow's annoyance.

"Calm down, mate. I only have two questions for you and then I'll be on my way. Just the two, I promise."

This time it was the bluenette's time to frown.

"Why would I answer any of your questions?"

The albino breathed in deeply and slowly as he rested back against the chair.

"For good fun. You'll see what I mean if you give it a try."

Grimmjow eyed him in silence for a moment as he thought things over. He wasn't really in any play mood – hell, he wasn't in the mood for anything at all really since this evening didn't promise anything even remarkably good. But still, even though the man in front of him felt like the last person he wanted to have a conversation with right now (or perhaps the second-last actually, to be honest) there was still something interesting about him. It was swimming just below the surface at first, but the more Grimmjow looked into it, he was slightly surprised by the depth he seemed to find in that trait, that connection. Could he call it that?

"Fine," he said and took a small sip from his glass. "Ask away and then get lost."

The stranger didn't even try to tone down his extremely wide victory expression. He reached out his hand once more.

"My name is Shirosaki. What is yours?"

"Grimmjow", he replied. He didn't take the hand. The albino tilted his light head to the side.

"Nice to meet you, Grimmjow."

"Shirosaki, huh? What a weird-ass name. It suits you."

"Well, it's too bad though that 'Grimmjow' is such an ordinary name that I couldn't possibly say 'likewise', eh?"

Grimmjow's defense crumbled unwillingly to pieces and a small smile fought its way through over his face.

"Fine", he concluded and reached out his own paw to shake Shirosaki's, that needed no more encouragement than the one word to rise to the surface again. As Grimmjow took his hand, he felt that there was some underlying strength in it as well even though it looked perfectly fragile against his broader palm.

The men both relaxed back in their chairs and studied each other momentarily until the more colorful one spoke up again.

"But, I'm still not going for company this evening, so state your business and be gone."

"I only have one more question for you, Grimmjow."

This ought to be good.

"What is the difference between a king and his horse?"

It wasn't anything close to what Grimmjow had been expecting. What was the guy blabbering about? Monarchs and pets? Was it some kind of philosophical bullshit-question that had no true answer? The bluenette wasn't having it.

"One's a man and the other's an animal. There, I'm done. Now get lost, Shirosaki."

The albino smirked at his response as if he had been expecting it all along. That bothered Grimmjow more than he wanted to let out.

"Things aren't so simple, Grim. If they were, our world wouldn't be so hard on everyone. Both of us wouldn't be sitting here tonight if everything around us was easy and simple and boring."

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed as he thought that last one over. Against his better judgment, something about the man in front of him was pulling him in. He was intrigued, but he didn't know why.

Shiro leaned back again and raised his perfect eyebrows higher.

"Guess again."

The bluenette took another sip of his scotch.

"The king and the horse are metaphors."

"That's not a real answer."

"I'm not finished."

Shiro shrugged at him, but the corner of his mouth was tugging upwards.

"They're not really metaphors either, only sort of. But go on."

Grimmjow paused and took a more thorough look at the albino instead. He'd proud himself often that he was very good at reading people and since the answer to the question could really be anything, he needed all the hints he could get. Sure, he could just give up and leave it at that, no one was forcing him to do anything – especially not a weird-looking stranger that busted into his personal space without apologizing – but then again, he could not just walk away. Grimmjow hated to lose almost more than anything.

Shiro wasn't giving that much away when it came to micro-expressions, but there were plenty of other pieces of information that the bluenette could use just from going back on what he had already seen. He already knew that the man was at the center of attention amongst his crowd – and he was used to it and he reveled in it. Shirosaki wasn't afraid to walk up to him and invite himself to his table and he handled Grimmjow's hostility excellently. So he was schooled well in social situations and good at defusing threats. He was inviting and open and yet mysterious and drew you in since you'd want more. He was also strong, his small façade aside and he had a large taste for the world. There were plenty of things that he wanted and he was used to getting them in the end. Not because people simply gave everything to him on a silver platter, but because he was relentless and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. In conclusion, this was not a man you could play around with.

And he'd know all this, because of one small hunch in the back of his head. One small feeling that told him something that Shirosaki was going to prove him right in the next reaction.

"They're not in the same place. The horse is elsewhere but the king… is here."

Shirosaki's gleaming eyes lit up at the suggestion.

"Very good!" he exclaimed. "Now we're talking."

"But why is the horse not here with you…?" Grimmjow thought out loud.

"Why indeed."

And Grimmjow went for the kill.

"You abandoned him. Because, as it were, in the beginning you were the horse and he was the king."

Shiro's gaze darkened.

"Careful what you're saying", he drawled, both a threat and an invite. Grimmjow's lips pulled into a grin. The question was unfolding itself. From the start, the bluenette had already guessed that it would have to be about something personal or else the stranger wouldn't have bothered. Anything but something personal was also doomed to fail to pick up Grimmjow's attention. So, he'd calculated everything he could possibly find out about Shiro just from tonight and had concurred on something vital, something that made all the difference; Shiro and he were very much alike. He'd seen it and therefore he knew what kind of man he was dealing with. It also meant that the Shiro of today was the king in question and that in the past, he had been something less – just like Grimmjow had been somebody else before he'd shrugged of everything and left for a new start. All of Shirosaki's responses confirmed had confirmed that hypothesis.

"The difference", Shiro reminded him. "What is it?"

And Grimmjow thought some more. If the albino had been a horse to a king, then switched, it meant that the horse and the king must have been quite alike from the start or it wouldn't have been possible. So there was a difference, but maybe not a big one or at least not a visual one. But not everyone could become a king – all of Shirosaki's crew by the other table spoke of that. What made you a king instead of a horse was something that only Shiro and he had and something that the others lacked. The one thing they instantly had in common. Grimmjow thought a while longer, but in the end there was only one attribute he could come up with. It was the reason Shiro had walked over to him. The reason Grimmjow hadn't made a bigger effort to drive him off already and the reason he put up with this little game. It was the notion of something behind what you first saw, some important slice of information you couldn't possibly know about and yet already did. And his eyes… contacts or not, Grimmjow had seen such eyes before... in his own mirror. Shirosaki was a hunter, just like him. He had huge cravings for sex, violence and dominance, just like him. It was the primal core that they didn't share with just anyone.

The bluenette leaned forward towards the whitehead and gripped his glass harder – the only indicator of his excitement. Shiro mirrored him with growing eyes. They were only inches apart and Grimmjow could see his answer dance in those big, dangerous orbs.

"The difference between a king and his horse… is instinct."

Shiro exhaled a shuddering breath and his eyes glazed over for a moment. Then he burst out into his throaty laugh and broke the spell somewhat. Grimmjow snorted as he drank from his glass.

"Correct! You… you are the first to guess it right! When I first saw you, I just knew…" his tongue flickered past his lips to wet them.

"I knew you were one fine king", the albino breathed and winked as he relaxed back into his chair.

"Same can be said about you."

With the biggest smirk so far, Shiro pulled up his right sleeve all the way over the elbow to sport a crown tattoo.

"That's why it's only sort of a metaphor."

Grimmjow shook his head in amazement and Shiro snickered.

"Who is the horse then?"

"An old friend of mine. I haven't seen him in a long time though. He took a habit of treating me as the horse for way too long. But I put up with it since I thought it was for the best."

"Influential guy?"

"Very."

Grimmjow found that he didn't want to sit here alone anymore – he wanted to stay in this weird, self-centered stranger's company. Not just for the usual reason, no; he was interested in more for the first time in forever. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez wanted to know more, wanted to add more to his experience with this said person. And by the looks of it, the feeling was mutual.

He downed the last of his whiskey before he spoke up again.

"So, those over there, are they your subjects?"

"You could say that. But I have plenty of more elsewhere." He winked again at the larger man.

"But you're new to this place? I haven't seen you before…"

"I am."

"So you're trying to put me together with your followers now?"

Shiro snorted, clearly amused.

"Not really. You can't rule over a king."

"I don't know about that", Grimmjow said and leaned forward ever so slightly. "When the situation demands it… even kings have to eat too," he said and flexed a big hand over the table as if grabbing something invisible. To his amusement the smaller male's grin faded slightly in exchange for a more dreamily expression.

"Yes. Yes they do," he answered thoughtfully.

The albino never went back to his subjects that evening. Instead, when the bluenette eventually got up to put an end to the night out, Shiro stood up with him and they left together for Grimmjow's apartment.

He awoke to the rustle of covers next to him. The bluenette slowly opened his eyes before the memories fell into place and a knowing grin made room over his face. He reached a hand out for his companion's bare neck and reveled in the jerk that followed as Shirosaki came awake. Grimmjow immediately pulled him slightly closer to him. Two rows of white teeth were thrown Grimmjow's way over the albino's shoulder.

"Don't you dare", he snorted as Grimmjow buried his fingers in the soft skin ever so slowly.

"You're not the only sore one."

"Who said I was sore anywhere?" the bluenette retorted as he let his hand travel down Shirosaki's back.

"I did!" With that, the younger man whirled about and jabbed two accurate fingers around his host and into Grimmjow's smaller back.

He was still snickering when he made his way out to the kitchen, fully dressed and leaving a grumbling and aching Grimmjow behind. The bluenette huffed and rolled over, almost regretting it.

Last night had been quite fun indeed – he had known beforehand that Shiro had strength in his limbs, but he hadn't anticipated the guy's never-ending stamina. They had kept at it for hours, exploring each others' bodies (and limits), putting the passion to the test. Few had been able to keep up so well with him in the past and even fewer still had met his every need like the white-haired man had done. And he had grinned his way through everything – no matter if he was succumbing to torturous teasing or a rock-hard Grimmjow threatening to break his spine in half – the pale guy would let out a throaty noise in between a gasp and a snicker and beg him for more. Grimmjow… simply hadn't been able resist on any plane. So he gave him more. And then he gave him more.

The memory faded as the objects in front of the bluenette's still sleepy eyes turned sharper and he spotted the empty glass on his nightstand. Shiro had taken advantage of a short pause in the middle of the night and had gone fetching them both a glass of water to rehydrate. ("You will need your strength for what comes next..!")

Grimmjow snorted. How very thoughtful of the king. His smile faded though as he stared longer at the glass, blinking. Something cold and hard took form in his stomach as he reached for the glass and held it up in the light that shone from the window. There was something sticky at the bottom of it, something agonizingly close to some kind of white substance…

Grimmjow dropped it. He didn't hear the sound of it hitting the thick rug he kept on the cool floor. He sat up and rubbed his face as panic contracted his chest and limited his breaths. What had he given him? What was flowing in his veins at this very second? All his struggles, all the pain and the promises… had it all been in vain now, lost to him because of an outer cause? He closed his eyes hard but he knew he couldn't escape reality, he couldn't escape the pit of darkness that would swallow him up again. All these years of loneliness, brought on by himself to shield all the others from the monster he had become - this was the end of all that. His sacrifice and the only way he had left; if he drowned himself in one addiction, then he wouldn't need the other one. Or so he had thought. But Shirosaki had ruined everything. All he had asked for was one adventures night and instead he had been consuming the one thing he had sworn he would never taste on his tongue again. The one thing…

Light footsteps echoed closer and the white-haired man entered again carrying two cups of steaming coffee in his hands. He opened his mouth to say something but restrained himself in time as the posture of Grimmjow hit him.

"Did you put something in my water last night?" His voice was almost a whisper, but he knew it carried. When he received no answer he glanced over at the albino and could read the truth in his wide, golden eyes. Of course he was still wearing those damned lenses – a true junkie wouldn't want the world to see his dilating eyes!

"You drugged me?!" he hissed. Shirosaki made a motion to step forward but Grimmjow flew up to his feet and the paler man abruptly stopped in his track. He held his hands up in an awkward disarming way since he was still carrying the two cups.

"Listen Grim, I didn't drug you, I just gave you~"

"Get the FUCK out!"

Shirosaki's eyes grew bigger and shock and uncertainty painted his once so self-confident features. When he broke out of it, he placed the mugs in the bookshelf next to him.

"Grimmjow, just listen to me…"

But the bluenette had had enough. He was back on square one because of the asshole in front of him and his fury and despair knew no bounds. A thousand thoughts swirled inside his head and he thought his chest would explode from all the wounds reopening. It took all his remaining self-control not to leap for Shirosaki and bash his head against the floor. That demon he would never let loose again. He fixed his raging blue eyes on the culprit and roared for all he was worth.

"GET OUT, or I'll make you!"

But Shirosaki didn't miss a beat.

"Here, look." He stuck his hand into the pocket of his dark pants and threw a small, half-crushed paper package to Grimmjow.

"Read it."

And he did, god damn him. And his mouth turned dry.

"…but these are… Persamels. Why?" he added, not yet daring to look up.

Shirosaki smiled carefully as he gestured with his open hands in his explanation.

"Because you might look like a pretty big guy but I was still afraid I'd wear you out. And by the looks of it, I almost did."

"…so you handed me mass-produced, world wide-known energy pills?"

"Yeah. I took some myself even. It's perfectly harmless – I'd know since I'm the CEO of the company that made it actually."

Grimmjow's face changed into that of an expression that alone gave voice to his silent 'Wait, what?' out aloud, but before Shiro had time to speak up again, he roughly shook his head.

"I still need you to leave."

"Grimmjow…"

"No. I… I just can't deal with this. I can't. Just go."

Tears burned in his eyes and he turned away to hide them from the concerned lover. He had been wrong about Shiro. And yet, he had come so close to the familiar steps of his own, personal hell. He had been too close, too reckless. Never in all his years had he anticipated that the one he took to bed could be a possible addict – he thought he'd always been so careful of whom he hunted down and claimed. He was only lucky that Shirosaki hadn't turned out to be a lesser man than he was. But Grimmjow realized that he would never take such a chance again. His days filled with blood pumping, thrilling sexual encounters with strangers were now definitely over. He would have to find something else to distract himself with. He just couldn't risk losing himself again.

"Here."

Grimmjow looked up from his hands and found Shiro much closer, holding out one small piece of paper with a hand scribbled number on it. The bluenette couldn't believe his eyes. The man in front of him was not only still in his apartment, but he also had the nerve to leave him his number? But when he looked up he realized that there was more to the gesture than he'd first thought. The determined gaze of Shiro told him more than he'd first thought he'd needed to know - it spoke volumes more than that wide mouth had spilled during the entirety of the night. It was the gaze of deep, underlying understanding and it shocked Grimmjow so badly that he only continued to work subconsciously as his hand reached forward to grab the small piece of paper from its giver. He gripped it so tightly that it crumpled slightly from the pressure, but it didn't break.

Shirosaki didn't say anything more, but he didn't need to. Grimmjow could read the rest in those strange, flaming ember eyes. He could read right then and there just how similar they truly were in both who they had been and who they were now. And Grimmjow knew - he just knew he could call at any time from this point onward and the albino would always pick up.

After his friend left, the bluenette sat on his bed for a very long time, just staring on the small piece of paper as he thought about the past and the future. But when he thought about the present, some small piece of his heavy burden melted from his shoulders. He gripped his phone and dialed the number with no hesitation. Shirosaki answered on the first signal.