Go your own way
Chapter 1: First impressions
First impressions are important. They define the starting point of the series of events, of which are later be reflected on and judged, by the being who remembers them. Some call these memories, others call them experiences, but it doesn't matter what they're labeled as. The viewpoint of the being and how it perceives it is what matters.
If two random people were to meet and identified each other as strangers, the first impression would begin. The next moments would effect the entire relationship between the two strangers as they acquainted themselves with each other.
Results may vary from first impression to first impression. These could range from seeking further interaction with the other to despising them with a passion. Having 'KYAAAAAA, PERVERT!' screamed at you rarely happens, but that doesn't mean that it hasn't happened before.
One instance of this occurring happened one summer afternoon to a young man who did not appreciate what he had just seen. The young man in question appreciated little of what he experienced, for he had closed his heart to the world.
"KYAAA, PERVERT! HELP!" A young lady screamed as she attempted to cover herself with a floral pattern shower curtain. "HE'S GONNA RAVAGE ME FOR MY YOUTH AND DO DIRTY THINGS TO ME SO THAT I CANT MARRY!"
"What?" The shocked young man uttered in surprise as he looked up from the toilet he was using.
"KYAAA! HE'S ALREADY GOT HIS PENIS OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE, PERVERT! GET OUT NOW~!" The young lady screamed as she proceeded to throw anything that wasn't nailed down in her vicinity at the young man as he was relieving himself.
"W-ow women stop throwing-ow things at me, it-ouch-hurts."
"GOOD, I WANT YOU TO HURT! YOU WHO CREEPS INTO OTHER PEOPLES HOUSES AND WATCHES THEM SHOWER, YOU-YOU-YOU… CREEP!" The young lady screamed back as she continued her bombardment of restroom products, several of which were full and exploded as they hit or landed near the young man, covering him with various scented hair products and body gels.
"First off." The young man began as he pulled up his pants and attempted to use the previously used toilet as a shield. "I'm not a pervert, I didn't know you were there until you went mach 5 with your voice. Second, my penis was out to piss with, not to 'ravage you'. Thirdly, I didn't creep in, I used my house key on the front door because I LIVE HERE!" He shouted back in frustration at the predicament he had gotten himself into as he wiped himself down with a towel.
"PERVERT! CREEP! POOPY... head… " The young lady trailed on as she blinked confusion at what the young man had said.
After a brief silence the young lady leaned out from behind the shower curtain while still covering herself.
"You live here?"
\(030)/
The young man sat grumpily on a bright cannery yellow couch in a living room as he nursed his sore head after a shampoo bottle tried to occupy the same space of his forehead had. It was matter against matter and mass against mass. His forehead accepted and won the challenge, but had sustained an injury for its efforts. The bruise was throbbing and incredibly annoying to the young man who sported it. He scowled as he looked down at the couch he was recovering on.
"Who in their right mind would have a cannery yellow couch?" The young man muttered to himself. "Its so bright, I cant even see the details."
"Um, I would." came a meek reply from behind the young man, who turned around and looked over his shoulder at the owner off the voice.
"Sorry." The young women said sadly as she peeked from around the corner of a doorway. "I, I thought you were a… a pervert"
"I could tell." He replied as he glared at her, hoping she would leave him alone to lick his wounds.
The young lady flinched at the intensity of his cold eyes as they bore into her. She recognised that look, having experienced from people who promised her trouble if she persisted in the past. She stood in the doorway, uncertain as to what to do as the young man turned away from her and returned his attention to his bruise.
"Dammit." She heard him mutter under his breath, as he bowed his head slightly and gingerly brought his hands up to his face.
Guilt and curiosity overrode her caution as she walked into the living room, around the cannery yellow couch and stopped in front of the mysterious young man. Kneeling down, she attempted to get a better look at the cause of his cursing. Messy black locks of ebony hair blocked her view of his face.
The young lady stared at him for a moment before speaking.
"I can help." She said quietly as she tilted her head to try and get a better look at his face.
The young man remained silent as he ignored her in favor of rubbing the throbbing pain on his forehead.
The young lady licked her lips and swallowed she tried again.
"Please let me help you, I'm trained in first aid since I often manage to hurt myself." She said as she chuckled at her memories of her past clumsiness.
The young man's mind was thrown into turmoil as he decided whether or not he should accept her help. The idea of accepting help from anyone was repulsive to him, especially help from a women. But the fact that it would be foolish to turn down free treatment was weighing him down. Growling quietly in frustration at his misfortune, he placed his hands in the pockets of his pants as he looked up.
The young lady gasped as the mysterious grumpy young man's face was finally revealed to her.
The young man looked as though he was in his late teens, some where between eighteen to nineteen she would have guessed. He had dark ebony locks of hair that messily covered the majority of the left side of his face, just short of covering his left eye.
His eyes. She though as she lost herself in them.
After a few minutes of silence the injured teen impatiently cleared his throat as he glared at her, annoyed that she seemed to do what most women did when they looked into his eyes, become brain dead.
If she has one. The annoyed teen thought, mentally smirking.
The young woman started at the noise of the teen clearing his throat and blushed at the fact that she had acted like a love sick school girl.
But I am a love sick school girl. She thought sadly to herself as she remembered a boy she liked at her school.
Sighing, the young lady regained herself and continued her inspection of the teen before her.
She looked at his eyes again, this time not losing herself. They were a brilliant deep emerald that drew you in the moment you looked at them. A shattered glass effect seemed to be etched into the gems that were his eyes, giving the feel that they were the doorway into another world.
Probably his world. She thought to herself as she looked at his expressionless face.
His face showed nothing of what he felt, but his eyes, his eyes show a buried pain and fear hidden behind cold calculating eyes.
"The bruise is on my forehead, not my cheek, woman." The bruised teen said, face expressionless yet still somehow pulling off a look of displeasure.
The young lady nodded as she mental hit herself on the head for spacing out again and for not helping him with the injury she had caused. She pulled the hand that she hadn't realised she had extended out away from his cheek and moved it up to his forehead, where the bruise was.
She quickly glanced down at the symmetrical twin scars he had going from the bottom of his eyes down to his jaw line, curious as to how he got such a scar but realised that it would be better if she didn't ask questions and stayed on track.
She looked at the bruise, located just above his right eyebrow, studying it before speaking out loud about her analysis.
"It's just your basic bruising, give it a day or two without bothering it and it should go away." She confidently, happy that she hadn't broken anything.
The teen grunted as he shuffled across the couch, uncomfortable with how close the woman had gotten and stood up to leave the room. The young lady stood up and watched as he left the room without a word.
"If you feel any pain or discomfort, there's ice in the freezer." She called out, continuing to watch the doorway he had used to leave. "The freezer's in the kitchen. I could show you were it is, if you want."
She heard another grunt as he walked past the doorway towards the kitchen.
\(030)/
"I'm not an idiot." The young man muttered as he walked into the kitchen, stopping to glare at the various happy duckling plushies, knick knacks and ornaments that adorned the room.
Its like a petting zoo. He thought as he went to the freezer to get some ice for his throbbing bruise and soon to be headache.
Sitting on a rotating stool in the kitchen, he leaned on the bench and sighed as relief washed over him.
Damn, that feels good. He thought as he rested his head on the hand that held the icepack. Nothing like going numb to stop the pain.
The young lady walked into the room and stared at the relaxing teen before her, unsure as to what to do.
"Um… I'm Orihime, by the way. Orihime Inoue. And I, well, I live here." She said as she motioned to the house around them. "But I was told that I was getting a new flatmate since my old one moved out."
When the ebony haired teen didn't confirm that he was the new tenant, she began to worry. Fearing that he really was a pervert, and that this was all a game to him, she took a step back.
"Ah … I don't now you're name, Mr… ?" She trailed off, unsure if he would supply his name
The young teen remained silent for a few moments before sighing. He removed the icepack from his hand and placed it on the counter in front of him. Staring at the glitter imbedded in the counter, he brought his hands up to his face and began to massage his temples.
"Ulquiorra... "
Orihime processed the new information she had received on the teen in front off her for a moment before speaking up.
"Ulquiorra... that's a funny name. Sounds weird." She commented absent mindedly.
"It's german." He growled as he looked at her, finally acknowledging the fact that she was there and that he would have to put up with her.
He looked her over, taking in her physical features so he would know who to avoid if he were to have the misfortune of meeting her again.
Annoying woman. He thought as she squirmed under his cold gaze, a nervous smile working its way onto her face.
She looked about seventeen or eighteen and had long auburn hair that reached the middle of her back, kept out of her face by matching flower hairpins. She had a pair of brown eyes and, he grudgingly admitted to himself, a pretty face.
He looked further down and was surprised to see that she was well endowed.
Very well endowed, they're like tumors. He thought to himself. No wonder she hates perverts. She's probably has had to put up with perverts and jerks since she developed those.
Slim build. He noted. Pretty face, large quantities of strategically placed fat, childish attitude... dear shinigami...
"I'm in hell" he said out loud.
The smile that Orihime had fell from her face when she heard that. Hurt clear in her eyes, she excused herself from her present company with a hushed voice and rushed up to her room, where comfort chocolate and understanding tissues awaited.
Ulquiorra remained where he was, surprised that the woman had left, but pleased that she had none the less.
He sighed as he heard a door slam up stairs, shaking his head as he stood up and placed the ice-pack back in the freezer.
Women. He thought as he walked back into the hallway, hands comfortably in pockets, as he approached his bags that he had left when nature had called.
Why didn't I use the down stairs toilet? Stairs are closer I guess, and the fact that the up stairs toilet is right in front of the stairs as opposed to the downstairs toilet which is at the other end of the house probably was a playing factor.
Ulquiorra picked up his bags and headed up the stairs, towards his room. He ignored the sobs coming from the room that was once hi parents bedroom as he passed it.
Claimed the biggest room for yourself, huh? Logical, I guess. So long as she left my room alone, she can have it.
He paused in front of his old room. As he reached for the door handle, a sense of returning to where it all began washed over him, driving shivers down his spine.
Nostalgic. Well, it is my room... my old room. I wonder if it's still the same. Granted I haven't been here, in this house, for over two years. But still...
Ulquiorra was pleasantly surprised when he found that his room was exactly as he had left it.
The bare single bed was in the far corner, bedside table next to it. A bare study desk capable of holding a computer stood sturdily at the other end of the room, draws empty. The wall closet was empty as well, no boxes or spare clothing stored in there.
"Well, I guess she not that bad." He said to the room he grew up in.
Glancing at the walls, he remembered that they were thin and that the woman had probably heard him.
If she had her ear pressed up against the wall, that is. He thought as he noticed that the heavy muffled sobs from next door became quiet once he had approved of her.
At least she finally shut up. Made of glass that one. Maybe I should tread more carefully around her in the future.
He dropped his bags next to the door as he closed it, noting that there were marks of the previous tenants doings on it.
"Hm." He grunted disapprovingly before he moved towards the window.
He opened it and stared out at the scenery that was so familiar, yet so strange to him
He sighed as he went to his sheetless bed and laid down on it, staring at the ceiling for a moment before placing his forearm over his eyes.
"I cant believe that I'm back here. After all I've been through, this is not where I expected to end up." He muttered to himself as he reflected on the memories he had of his childhood.
He flinched and rolled over on his stomach when he came across a memory that he would rather have forgotten, or even better, never had experienced.
Curling into a ball in vain attempt to protect himself, he tried to think of nothing and sent his mind blank, hoping that the empty numbness of the void known as sleep would claim him before long.
\(030)/
Orihime sat on her bed, ear against the wall she new connected to Ulquiorra's room, trying to hear the rest of what was going on on the other side. She used to chat Tatsuki way into the dead night when they were still flatmates, so she new that if she was quiet enough and patient enough, that she would be able to see, or in this case hear, a little bit of Ulquiorra's world..
But fortune was not on her side. She couldn't hear anything at all. Something about someone leaving and taking something and not returning it. Then dead silence.
Strange.
Orihime sighed and looked out of her window, only to realise that it was night time.
He's probably sleeping. Oh well, I hope he's in a better mood tomorrow morning. And since tomorrow's a Saturday, maybe we came get better acquainted. Orihime thought happily as she pushed the chocolate wrappers off her bed and onto the floor to make room for herself.
She happily snuggled under the covers of her bed and childishly dreamed she was a giant robot in the future. Completely unaware that the boy next door to her was reliving his worst nightmare.