Lost Stars

by healthydrugs

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez has accepted his fate of a sad life that will lead to an eventually sad death. He's a painter who refuses to use the color, orange, and has a bitter distaste of a certain orange haired singer. Ichigo Kurosaki is a mysterious, outgoing singer who basically does whatever he wants regardless of the consequences. Both of them were never supposed to meet...

1. Blue Bird

I suggest listening to Jungkook's cover of Lost Stars by Adam Levine if you really want to get more into depth with this story :) It's based off of that song. This chapter is in Grimmjow's point of view and I hope you enjoy reading it!

-healthydrugs-

Departure

"Yo, this is Ichigo Kurosaki but I'm not at the phone right now so you're goin' to have to leave a messa-"

The distinct sound of bed sheets rustling over naked bodies can be heard in the background.

Thud!

"Haha! Hahahahahahaha! St- Sto- Stop it! Grimm! Y- you're killin' me here, babe, p- pl- please st- stop! Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, for all things holy if you do not stop tickling me right this second I will shove my foot so far up your- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I can still remember the sound of his voice like it was yesterday. His laughter was like the sound of tinkling bells being rung on a snowy winter day. His moans could bring out the darkest sense of lust in the most innocent person. Not that I was any innocent myself, I laugh at the thought. I bet he could've even brought a priest to his knees and commit the dirtiest sins with him. When he berated you, even if you were the most stubborn and rebellious person in the world, you would still feel like you had wronged an angel.

Ichigo was everything, but he was also nothing.

Now as I lay here, I finally understand.

I didn't make him happy enough.

I couldn't protect him.

I didn't catch him.

I wasn't by his side at the most important moment.

He didn't want to stay with me.

I wasn't good enough for the enigmatic, mythical being that was Ichigo Kurosaki.

I laugh. It was hollow, bitter, resentful, and something I could not even recognize anymore.

The bastard didn't even have the heart to say goodbye.

The bed sheets that were long over worn and stained, rustled once again.

"I love you, Ichigo."

I remembered the eskimo kiss I gave him when I said the words that would certainly never come out of my mouth ever again.

"I love you, too, Blue Bird." He grinned up at me mischievously and gave me a kiss filled with fondness that I would certainly never feel ever again.

I see…

I wonder if that was a lie too...

Click.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

6 months before the incident…

Orange. Orange. Orange.

I fucking hated the damn color. I hated the word, the sound, the syllables, the letters, hell I hated the way the word was shaped. Orange didn't even fucking rhyme with anything. Why it existed, I would never fucking understand.

It was too bright.

It shone and illuminated too much.

Out of all of the colors in the color wheel and the spectrum, orange was such an eyesore.

I was an artist. A painter, to be specific, but I swore that as long as the moon kept existing that I would never use orange on any artwork that would have my signature on it. Ha! Over my dead body.

I steered cleared of everything that was that blasted auroral color and anything associated with it. It was kind of childish I know, but I really did hate that color with a burning fire.

I stayed away from the fruit, carrots, pumpkins, candy corn, flowers, you name it. I even stayed away from that one pesky butterfly that was orange.

I shuddered. Disgusted by my orange-filled thoughts, I tried to mentally shoo them away in my mind.

And of course, there was that one giant, pain in the ass, thorn in my side.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet the very bane of my existence and the epitome of the accursed color.

Kurosaki was the perfect fucking kid. He was at the top of the class and even effortlessly beat Ulquiorra at chess. That bastard was probably all butthurt under all of his ' you're very existence is trash' facade. I hate to admit it, but that asshole Kurosaki is probably on par with me when it comes to sports and is not all that bad looking. I even heard that he was scouted by some big shot entertainment company for his vocal skills. Kurosaki has a lot of annoying friends as well, and is exceptionally popular. On top of it, the bastard is very likely to have a loving and caring family.

The kid hung out with a group of annoying cunts like Renji Abarai, Shinji Hirako, and that poor excuse for a midget, Rukia Kuchiki.

In the eyes of everyone who knew him, Ichigo Kurosaki could simply do no wrong. Fuck, if he stabbed some guy in the gut, they would probably cheer him on and some would probably even join in.

Talk about fucking irritating. Seriously, the only reason why Kurosaki's plaguey existence was frustratingly maddening to me was because the guy basically flaunted everything around as if he wasn't just handed everything from a silver fucking platter.

Now I know what you're thinking, " damn you must have some serious beef with this guy".

But to be perfectly honest, Kurosaki and I had never held a conversation even once. We were both seniors and we knew of each other since freshman year, but we have never really interacted. He was neither in the list of people who I owed favors for but he also really wasn't on my own personal shit list. The only real connection we had were awkward eye contacts. Which honestly, was just me glaring at him from time to time while he looked away gracelessly. He never fucked with me, I never fucked with him. That was how it worked and functioned between us.

But goddamn, if there was a god at all, then he poured too much of fucking everything into this damn specimen.

Ichigo Kurosaki is a constant reminder of life's unfairness.

Not that I envied him or anything. I was fine with what I had. I was perfectly okay living a life alone with my pastels, acrylics, paints, canvas, and easels. It was all I needed to get through. I could die happy with that, I wasn't a choosy person, I was content with my life. Alone. Independent. Relying on no one to carry the heavy load weighed upon my shoulders.

Until Kurosaki, being the biggest piece of shit he was, fucked it all up for me.

x-x-x-x-x-x

It was an everyday average shitty Wednesday, and I was once again skipping class. All of that magnetic electricity bullshit with ions or whatever never tickled my fancy anyway. I rolled my eyes thinking about the lecture I would probably get from my professor once I headed back, oh well, it wasn't like I wanted to be an engineer or something. Saving people's lives, defending someone in court, and fighting for justice against crime were pointless activities of chivalry that seemed more trouble than it was worth. Call me heartless, a monster, or scum but it was honestly how I felt. Besides, society was so fucked up nowadays, stuff like that didn't matter anymore. It was all about the money, the fame, the recognition. I scoff, repulsed at the thought of corruption.

I always spent my time ditching classes in the garden of the college campus. The college that I went to wasn't all that great, it was a community college and it wasn't very famous for anything special. But I didn't mind, it's why I chose it, if I ever went to a top notch college I would probably gain attention, which is the last thing I wanted. I wanted college to drift by as fast as possible. I didn't want to remember any memories from this place at all.

The garden itself was kind of small and insignificant, but it still contained a good number of vibrant herbs and flowers that surrounded the place. If you looked at it from a bird's eye view, the garden would look like a spiral. The outer rims of the spiral would be surrounded by trees, and as it got further in, flowers of different assortments and seeds would appear.

I guess normal people would find it pretty or some shit, but I didn't really find anything special about it. I usually go here to sketch, and on some occasions even paint, especially if the project deadline for my art class was due that particular day. I didn't draw or stroke my brush with pink or yellow colors for the flowers, instead, I used black. One thing, I liked doing with my artwork specifically, was how ugly, dark, and gruesome I could turn something into. Behind the most beautiful faces, there will always be something beastly and hideous on the inside. That's what I truly believed.

In the center of the garden, there was a giant tree, it was the biggest. I sat down under that big ass tree. No, I'm not going to tell you what type of tree it was nor am I going to describe what it looked like. Fuck I look like a damn tree expert? Fuck that, all I can tell you was that it was fucking big, it had a lot of pink shit, and it was my special damn tree.

So imagine my surprise when Kurosaki that fucking nuisance strolled up from behind me and sat on the other side taking out the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear, successfully interrupting my sketch session. I was just getting started too, relishing the feeling of the charcoal gliding on the thick paper.

Oh, but that's not all either…

"Yo, you got a light, man?"

Wow.

The audacity.

The nerve.

And what the fuck? Kurosaki smoked? Ha, whatever, it was none of my business. It kind of ruined my image of him being a goody goody, though.

Now, we may not know each other much, but if Kurosaki couldn't tell my distaste of him from my death glares… well, then he was just plain stupid.

But, behold, I, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez did not take his cigarette, light it and shove it up his piehole like I so desperately wanted to. Instead, I became an adult about it.

I tossed him my blue lighter like I would if I was pitching a baseball.

See? Totally mature.

To my disappointment, Kurosaki caught it with ease and even had a tiny smirk of amusement in his fucking flawless face. Scrub.

I sighed. Maybe if I ignored him, he'll eventually go away.

"What'cha drawing there, Blue Bird?"

A vein popped.

My left eye kept twitching.

"Fuck you, Kurosaki."

"You know my name?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

He shrugged, and took a drag off his cigarette. Kurosaki crawled a little closer and looked over my shoulder to get a better view of what I was drawing. He looked like he was in deep thought. His gaze on the sketchbook that was on my lap unnerved me a bit. It's like he was observing every nook and cranny that my hand was capable of making.

After what felt like forever but was actually a couple of minutes, Kurosaki broke his gaze on the morbid drawing and looked me in the eyes.

"It's beautiful."

I blinked. Was he ridiculing me?

No, he looked absolutely serious, saying it with a sincere and straight face. The idiot was actually complimenting on my work of garbage.

I looked back at my work. There was a bouquet of carnations in the middle, all varying in shades of black, white, gray, and brown. There were petals falling from the bouquet, the petals were wrinkled, bruised, and turning into something darker; having an ombré kind of effect. The border of the page was created to make it look like as if the paper was actually burning and the petals were it's ashes. Not only that, but the lines were sloppy and a lot of things overlapped with each other.

"Yer a blind little shit, aren't ya?"

He laughed. And not the little tiny annoying giggle shit that girls would do because they thought it was cute, it was full blown out laughter. And goddamn if it wasn't infectious, I couldn't help but crack a barely there smile. Why did it feel so fulfilling making him laugh like that?

Once he recovered from his laughter attack, he placed back his cigarette between his lips and responded seriously.

"You don't see stuff like that often, you know? Actually, very rarely. I'm not really fond of flowers anyway. They're kind of meaningless. Flowers for confessions, weddings, funerals, I don't think it really matters, because in the end they die and wither away. Just like people, so what's the point? You didn't do anything wrong, really, you just brought out their true nature. Nothing stays beautiful and nothing lives on forever…"

I stare at him almost shell shocked. I wasn't really expecting something like that out of someone like Kurosaki. What shocked me the most however, was the way he spoke about the topic. It was so nonchalant and unconcerned, as if we were talking about the weather instead of something pretty damn deep. If I didn't know better, it seemed like he was talking from personal experience…

Could someone like Kurosaki even have something like that? I can't imagine it.

Kurosaki in pain, in tears, yelling in anguish…

Was surprisingly something I never wanted to see. I should've taken joy into seeing him in pure sorrow, but it had the opposite effect. I stopped, imagining it was beginning to make my head hurt. Not to mention your heart, a little part of me said. Shut the fuck up.

"I ain't gon' apologize if I said something that offended you or whatever, so don't even think about it. I was just bein' real." Kurosaki's voice huffed, reminding me that I was probably silent for a while.

I laughed. It was something I wasn't used to so it felt a bit foreign but I couldn't help the bursts of laughter welling up from my chest.

"You're not too bad, Kurosaki."

He scowled. "Just call me Ichigo, and I don't need your approval, jackass!"

I should've been pissed at the name calling, but it just made me more entertained.

I smirked. "Okay, I-chi-go." I stretched out the syllables almost lazily. I basked in pleasure as I saw his face, neck, and ears heat up. I laughed once again. What has this brat got me doing?

x-x-x-x-x

The next day, and the next, and next, and the next…

Kurosa- Ahem. Ichigo kept coming.

At first I was thoroughly pissed. I didn't like company whenever I was working on something, it was distracting and not to mention it disrupted the peace that I so desperately craved.

Having said that, I decided that K- Ichigo was alright. Ichigo didn't breathe down my neck the whole time neither did he ask useless questions like a pesky curious brat. He just sat there on the other side of that big ass tree. Most of the time he was smoking but I did catch him drink from a bottle of water of what suspiciously smelled like disguised vodka.

He was also frequently bringing his acoustic guitar with a worn out notebook he always seemed to write in. He explained it to me that he used it for songwriting whenever he had an idea or thought of a ballad. Ichigo's guitar was black, shiny, smooth and was tattooed with all kinds of decals and stickers I'm guessing he collected over the years. Just by looking at the condition of the guitar, you can tell that it's been used regularly if not everyday, judging by the faint scratches on the smooth wood that I'm guessing was from the strumming. The stickers that seemed to revolve around rebelling society have long since faded and that was probably how you could tell that he's had it for quite some time. Ichigo cherished that guitar, you could tell right away by how he took great care of it and how he held it. I know the strumming and music should bother me but it honestly didn't, I found it quite soothing. It was peaceful, I guess you could say it broke the silence in a good way.

Often times, Ichigo would observe me and what I was working on. I didn't mind because he always gave me satisfying criticism about it afterwards. I found out that he liked my paintings the best. In turn, I would give my opinion to what I thought about his music. Surprisingly enough, I actually enjoyed some of his songs. He appreciated it and I felt an odd sense of achievement from that.

He was just always there. At first, I asked him about his other friends but he just always shrugged about it and told me that they would have to deal. Kurosaki better not blame me when he's officially forgotten from society to hang out with some mute nobody. Sometimes, when I was so focused on the canvas that I was working on, I forgot to eat or take a break. When that happened, Ichigo would come back from the vending machine and hand me a can of soda or even share some of his little sister's famous home cooked bento. They were pretty fuckin' bomb.

When the first month came by as quickly as it came, Ichigo stood up from his spot from the other side of that damn tree and walked around to my side. He sat down next to me and leaned his head onto my shoulder. Ichigo was warm and I caught a whiff of a pleasant vanilla and cinnamon scent that I was sure was just naturally Ichigo . I simply accommodated more space for him and went back to the forgotten sketchbook.

As time flew and seasons passed, I guess you could say that we developed a somewhat sort of connection. Okay, I guess… we were friends. At first, I liked to think that I only tolerated Ichigo's existence but when he didn't come to the garden one day, I flipped my shit. I couldn't concentrate at all, there was no beautiful music coming from his skillful hands, no stupid hums that urged me to hum along with him, no weight on my left side, and just no Ichigo. It bothered me to no end and when he came back the next day saying that he had to babysit his younger siblings, I finally understood.

I liked having him around. During the time that I've known him, I found out so many things. Ichigo was hilariously funny, he was daring, thoughtful, open minded, adventurous, caring, kind, serious when he wanted to, determined, humble, strong headed, fearless, I could go on for days.

But the biggest thing was that Ichigo Kurosaki was a fucking riot. In every way possible. He was the only person that had no qualms about being drunk in the middle of the day, saving a fat ass cat from a tall ass tree only to fall on said ass, and had no shame in about literally anything and everything. But despite that, just a few hidden sexual innuendos was enough to get the kid red as a fire truck. It was amusing to say the least.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Scratch. Scribble. Scribble. Scratch. Erase.

It was another shitty evening in the garden with my orange haired companion and I. Except, that Ichigo was the one holding the pencil this time around. I laughed my ass off and thought I was going to bust a gut when he said that he wanted to draw me like "one of his french girls".

So, I handed him what was my eighth filled notebook and my fading charcoal pencil.

I didn't know it back then, but that was probably when I handed him my damn heart.

Nobody, and I mean NOBODY touched my stuff, let alone my beloved art supplies. They were like my lifeline. And the fact that I handed it all over to Ichigo so easily, definitely fuckin' said something about how close we became.

"Quit fidgeting."

I rolled my eyes.

"Then, hurry up." I was currently in a lying position where I had my right elbow propped up on the ground and my left knee bent.

He playfully scowled at me.

"Masterpieces like these take time, ya know?"

I scoff.

"What are you talking about? Stick figures don't take that long."

Ichigo glared at me and I gave him an innocent grin.

"Ha ha. Just wait, yer gonna eat your fucking words, asshat. "

"Fine, fine, if ya say so, Michelangelo."

"Why are you calling me a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?"

I laughed which was something I was awfully used to when I was around Ichigo.

"Dumbass."

He gave me a soft smile from behind the canvas that showed off his cavernous dimples. My heart accelerated a little.

I always wondered if Ichigo said stupid shit around me just to make me laugh.

He really is a dumbass.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"What are you doing?"

"You have eyes, sherlock."

"Okay, then what are you carving on that stupid ass tree?"

"It's a surprise."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You know, only couples do this, right?"

"Yep."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"Why do you think I did?"

"..."

x-x-x-x-x-x

I sighed. My landlord was being a pain in the ass that morning and I didn't get enough sleep last night. Oh well, at least I'll see the little bastard that got orange paint all over me yesterday later this morning. The annoying brat actually got me to use that godforsaken color, who knew? At first he pissed me off by trying to persuade me to use the color which in turn made me mad and snap at him. Ichigo, being the cuntwaffle he was, put up a fit and stomped away. The only way he would forgive me is if I used the damn thing… It was worth it in the end.

As I walked into the cafeteria with happy thoughts, I saw something that made my blood run cold and my eyesight basically flooding with red.

I growled.

What the fuck?

He was leaning against a wall with some skanky whore's legs around his waist, sucking his fucking face off. His hands were grasping her ass under a skimpy skirt that rode up.

Whore. Whore. Whore.

Why are you touching that filthy bitch?

Fucking stop it.

You are mine. No one else's.

I stomped to over where he was and pushed the bitch away. She was screeching and yelling some stupid shit like a banshee that wasn't worth my time. My focus was solely on the orange haired vixen that dared to anger me.

Ichigo lazily looked up undeterred and smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking up and down with the balls of his feet.

"You wanna join, Blue Bird?"

I grabbed his wrist with a harsh and bruising grip and dragged him away.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ichigo was currently against our tree, caged between my arms.

"Why? "

"What do you mean, why? I wanted to have sex that's why." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the word.

"Yeah, but why her ?"

"Grimmjow, you didn't even glance at her, and who else would you rather I have sex with?"

"No one! Okay! Don't have sex with anybody who isn't-

"Who isn't what? " Ichigo smirked and raised a thin orange eyebrow.

He knew.

He fucking knew!

This asshole was playing me the entire time.

I slammed my hands against the tree in exasperation and frustration. Ichigo didn't even fucking blink. I indistinctly noticed a flutter of sakura petals slowly falling down in the background from the strength of the slam. But I didn't care, all I cared about was the maddeningly beautiful creature in front of me.

I groaned in aggravation, gripping tufts of my blue hair tightly and crouching down.

"Why do you do this to me? It's like you enjoy giving me a taste of heaven and then dragging me back down to hell, you sadistic bastard." I whispered solemnly not thinking that he'd be able to hear what I said.

Ichigo laughed and crouched down to my level. He tsked as if he were reprimanding a child and ruffled my hair.

"Nuh-uh, Mr. Jaegerjaquez. I will not accept such a half assed confession from you."

I looked up and saw him smiling at me devilishly. That smile. That fucking smile. I know for a fact that no matter how many pictures or portraits are based off of him smiling, it will never capture the beauty it has up close and personal.

"Fucking hell, Ichigo! If you just wanted me to do that, you didn't have to touch that… thing. "

"Where would the fun in that be?" Ichigo snickered like a snot nosed brat that just got away with tripping someone. I sighed heavily.

"If I do this, you can't reject me. If you do, I am hunting your ass down for the next millennium."

He just grinned wider and nodded in approval. I grabbed both sides of his face with my hands, rubbing the smooth tan skin and looked up into those expressive honey colored eyes.

"I fucking like you, okay? So, just be mine already…" I huffed out looking down feeling mortified at the small blush that positively danced around my cheekbones.

Ichigo tilted my head up a little and kissed me. It was like nothing I've ever imagined. His lips were impossibly soft and I couldn't get enough. His taste, his tongue, his scent, everything was driving me insane.

He pulled away and smirked.

"Took ya long enough, Blue Bird."

"Shut up, Tiger."

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Would you rather… have dicks for fingers or pussies as ears?"

I hummed thoughtfully and continued to push Ichigo on the swing.

"Pussies for ears. I can't draw with dicks."

Ichigo chuckled.

"Good point."

It had been four months since we started dating, and I can honestly say that I've never been happier. As someone who was born an orphan and taught how to survive the hard way, words like 'joy' or 'glee' were very unfamiliar to me. It was like using a hard word I didn't know the definition to, to seem smart. But now, now that Ichigo's by my side, I think I understand how those stupid romantic novelists feel. I feel lightless, carefree, blissful, content. There's no knots, stress, tension, and there isn't any overbearing weight on my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I actually care about what someone thinks and the enthusiasm to live that was never there before, is there. I never thought that one person could change someone so much… But I don't find myself caring.

Our relationship was a little rocky in the beginning, mostly due to my awkwardness about everything, but Ichigo seemed to take it in stride. I'm not gonna lie, we've had fights where I thought it was going to be the last straw, but we fought through it together. There were a lot of things that changed between us. We were closer, mentally and physically.

Ichigo loved to have fun. He was outgoing like that, but I didn't like that he was so oblivious and careless about the things he was doing. If there's one thing I learned about Ichigo, it was that he loved to break rules. He loved to trespass abandoned places, violate plain white walls with chaotic graffiti, and sing to homeless people in the subway station and give them the tips.

If there was a word to describe him, it would be loud . Both in personality and appearance. But I guess that's what drew me in like a moth to a flame. I was enamored, entranced, and completely in love with this piece of shit.

That meant that I was thoroughly fucked . There was no way out if this, I was in too damn deep. I learned things about him, and I kept wanting to learn even more, down to his very core. Even if I wanted to leave and say to hell with all of these weird emotions, I don't think I could ever walk away from him.

It was like the more time I spent with Ichigo, the more I noticed things about him that I absolutely adored. Often times when he slept on my lap, he favored sleeping on his side more and scrunches up his nose when he's irritated. It's like everything he did was kept safely locked in my brain and noted. I snort, was I always such a cheesy sap?

"Thinkin' bout me, Sweetheart?"

I smirked.

"No one else, Peaches."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

A week before…

"Haaaaaappy Biiiiiiirthdaaaaaaaay, tooooooooo yoooooooooou. Haaappy Biiirthdaaay, deaaaar Blueee Biiiiird, Haaaappy Birthdaaaay to youuuuuuuuuu."

I cringed at his off-key singing. He was doing this shit intentionally. I sigh, it was like taking care of a baby baboon regularly. I guess I didn't mind though, on the inside, I'm kind of glad. I usually spent my birthday at home eating chinese takeout and binge watching Breaking Bad on Netflix. Spending this day with Ichigo, was more than I could've ever asked for. He even canceled his live performance to celebrate the shitty day that I was born even though I told him he didn't have to.

"What are you doing, moron? Blow out your candles or I'm gonna do it for you!" I laugh, I wouldn't be surprised if he blew it out anyway. In front of my face, was a royal blue velvet cake with poorly drawn letters that spelled out, 'Happy Birthday Grimm!', in white cream cheese frosting. There were concoctions of marshmallows, gummy bears, whip cream, pretzels, oreos and- Is that fucking silly string I see?

While I was analyzing the cake that I have no doubt in my mind, Ichigo, so kindly put together, I didn't see him sneaking up behind me and blowing out the candles himself. I frowned, turning around to tell him off, when I see him closing his eyes and clasping his hands together. I was completely confused. After a moment or two of silence, he opened his eyes and smiled. I didn't find myself caring anymore.

"What were you doin'?"

"I made a wish for you."

My eyebrows raised.

"What's the wish?"

He snickered.

"It's a secret."

Out of nowhere, Ichigo slams a platter of pie on my face. The impact from being hit with a pie head on causing me to fall on my ass. I didn't even have to open my eyes or unclog my ears to hear his boisterous laughter. I wiped my eyes. Ichigo stopped laughing, he even looked a little nervous. I laugh internally, I must've appeared too calm. I stood up and took a step forward. He, of course, took a step back.

"Where you goin', Tiger? I just want a hug."

Ichigo's radiant brown eyes opened wide and he turned to run, not knowing it was too late.

I laugh evilly and maniacally, almost reminding myself of that dick of a professor, Aizen, that loves to give out homework over the weekend.

With ginormous steps, I crept closer, grabbed his hips and shoved my face in the crook of his neck. His shrieks of disgust mixing with mines of laughter.

Best birthday ever.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Ya got me somethin'?" I asked a little stunned. I can count on one hand, how many people have given me gifts. All of them I can't even remember or dead.

He grinned from ear to ear, looking so proud of himself.

"That's right."

We were in the back of my pick-up truck, that was currently filled with blankets and pillows. Our only light source were a bunch of shitty scented candles. It was Ichigo's idea of a "romantic way to end my birthday". I was lying next to him looking at the moon and talking about stuff that didn't even matter or make sense. Something I could only do with Ichigo. We can talk about nothing and anything, and I don't think I'd find a way to be bored. I wish I could've stayed in this one moment forever.

"Where is it?"

He sat up, so I did too. Ichigo grabbed his guitar from inside of the vehicle and came back, tuning the strings.

"Awww, yer gonna serenade me?" I teased.

"Shut it, sweet cheeks. And ya got a problem with it? It took me like a month to write this song, you better be damn appreciative of it, shit stain." Ichigo muttered under his breath, blushing.

I laughed. "I wanna hear it."

He glared at me before setting the guitar on top of his lap and getting comfortable. He took a deep breath and began to strum. Ichigo's smooth rich baritone voice filled the air, rendering me speechless.

Please don't see

Just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies

Please see me

Reaching out for someone I can't see

I've always known Ichigo was talented, but I don't think that I could ever get used to listening to that angelic voice. It was so calming that it could probably put a fussing baby to sleep.

Take my hand, let's see where we wake up tomorrow

Best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand

I'll be damned, Cupid's demanding back his arrow

So let's get drunk on our tears

I began to listen more closely to the lyrics. I exhaled a silent laugh, this song was so Ichigo. I continued listening, trying to remember each word being sang to me, and only me.

And God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young

It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run

Searching for meaning

But are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?

Who are we?

Just a speck of dust within the galaxy?

Woe is me

If we're not careful turns into reality

But don't you dare let our best memories bring you sorrow

Yesterday I saw a lion kiss a deer

Turn the page, maybe we'll find a brand new ending

Where we're dancing in our tears

And God, tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young

It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run

Searching for meaning

But are we all lost stars trying to light up the dark?

Ichigo sang the last sentence very softly, but the raw emotion behind the words were so passionate. During the whole song, I don't think I could ever take my eyes off of him, and I don't think he stopped looking at me either.

"How was it?" Ichigo looked uncertain, it was a look that was rare and nine times out of ten, only I got to witness it. Ichigo rarely felt hesitant, he was straight forward, confident, and he always knew what he wanted to do.

"I love you." I blurted out without thinking. Ichigo leaned his head back and laughed.

"I wasn't asking about me, you idiot. I was asking about the song!"

"I love it. But honestly if you want my honest opinion, you could've clanged cymbals all night long and I still would've loved it." I said reaching out to pull him to my lap. I kissed the back of his neck softly and snuggled in closer. Ichigo chuckled, reaching out to grasp my uncooperative blue strands from behind.

"Didn't know ya were a smooth operator, Blue Bird."

"Whatever. Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?" Ichigo urged as he pulled the comforter over both of us and blowing the candles out.

"What did you wish for?" A deafening silence came over us for a while, all we could hear was each other's breathing.

"I… I made a wish- I wished that you would remember me no matter what." He whispered so low that I almost didn't catch it. I furrowed my brows and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Ichigo-

"Grimmjow." I stopped. Ichigo rarely called me by my full first name seriously.

"What?" He stared into my eyes. Even though the moon was the only thing that illuminated the dark, I could still see his glossy eyes with unshed tears reflecting pain and sorrow.

Before I could ask him what was wrong, he pulled me into a deep kiss.

"I love you."

Ichigo looked at me right then and there as if my response was going to make or break him. Like he was hanging on to what I was going to say.

"I love you, too." He sagged in relief, shoulder slackening.

"Let's go to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah…"

Halfway through the night, I thought I felt tears land on my cheeks…

x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, Ichigo was gone. At first, I thought he went home before his family got worried, but he didn't leave a note or text me the way he usually did. He just up and left without any notice. I thought I would see him later at school, but he didn't attend class. Ichigo didn't come to the garden either.

At this point I was completely worried and paranoid. Was he okay? Was he safe? Was he injured?

I was so distressed that I decided to ask his professors if they knew where he was.

"Professor Ukitake, have you seen Ichigo today?"

"...Who?"

"Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki."

"..."

"Neon orange hair, brown eyes, scowls a lot…?"

"I don't believe someone like that is registered into my class."

"What are you talking about? Of course he is, you just talked to him like two days ago!"

He gave me a sympathetic smile. I wanted to punch him.

"I'm sorry, you must've gotten the wrong person…"

"Like hell I did! HE'S MY ICHIGO MOTHERFUCKIN' KUROSAKI AND IF YOU DON'T TELL ME WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW, I'M GOING TO KICK YER ASS SO HARD YER DICK WILL CONVERT INTO A VAG-

I sighed deeply as I sat down on the bench. I called him so many times I lost count, I swung by his place to find no one there, and I even checked the places he would wander often. I closed my eyes in exhaustion. Where the fuck was he?

I heard a group of people pass by me laughing and talking amongst themselves, their voices becoming a jumbled mess but I did recognize one voice.

I stood up abruptly and came up to the red haired man with tribal tattoos.

"Do you know where Ichigo is?"

Abarai looked at me strangely. I didn't bother looking into it, though, he was probably a little peeved that Ichigo spent more time with me than him now-

"Who?"

"..."

"Jaegerjaquez, quit looking at me like an idiot!"

"Did he do this? Is he playing some sort of prank on me to have fun?"

"What are you talking about?! Who's he?"

I grabbed the lapels of his coat and rammed him into the brick wall.

"Ichigo! Where. Is. He?" He gripped my wrists that was pinning him down, trying to release himself but becoming unsuccessful.

"I don't know who you're talking about! Let go of me, damn it!"

I looked into his eyes trying to search up with any hints of a lie or fib. There wasn't any. There was only confusion, anger, and curiosity.

I shrugged him off and ran. I ran and I ran and I ran so much that I found myself in an abandoned construction site, puking my guts out.

Calm down.

Breathe.

He's okay. He has to be.

Yeah? Then, where is he? He just disappeared without telling you where he went.

Shut up! He must've had a good reason for it.

Okay, let's say that he did. It still doesn't change the fact that no one remembers him or knows him…

SHUT UP!

He'll come back…

He promised me…

Right?

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I grab another bottle of beer and lit up another cigarette. I was sitting on the ledge of the balcony of my apartment that was six floors up. Not that I gave a shit about how high up I was. In fact, the ground looked very promising to me right now. I pushed the ashtray that was filled with mountains of cigarette butts aside and I knocked off a few empty bottles as well. I lie down looking at the sky. The stars were non apparent, but the moon was as clear as it could be in front of a vast background of black.

It had been three weeks since Ichigo walked out of my life, but I find myself wondering when he walked in in the first place…

Was he even there?

I really am going insane… But even though I have second thoughts about practically everything that's happened to my life ever since I met him , a part of me, a big part of me is telling me that everything about him is real. What I felt, what I touched, what I heard… Everything is still so clear.

After my encounter with Abarai, I checked up with his family. I laugh bitterly at the thought of the memory…

"I'm sorry, but I don't know who this Ichigo is and I certainly don't have a son."

Out of all people, it was fucking Goat Face. I was one step into beating his face in but not with the twins watching. I was so enraged and furious. Though Ichigo always acted like he hated the guy, it was actually quite the opposite. Isshin was like a pillar of strength to him, someone he could always depend on. Through the death of his mother which I could tell still greatly affected him, Isshin was always there with open arms and a goofy grin. I saw through him, and I saw how he secretly smiled when Goat Face called asking about his day. And now, it's like there isn't even a fragment of Ichigo left. It was like one of the people he put his utmost trust in turned his back on him.

I tried everything. I tried looking through files, asking people who were associated with him, and looking for any place he might've went to.

Ichigo Kurosaki just fucking vanished. Like he never existed in the first place.

Was I drifting towards insanity? Maybe.

Was he a figment of my imagination? Hell no.

I walk into the living room stepping over broken easels and torn canvases. Years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, all flushed down the drain. Aha, I wish I could say I still cared…

I look at the pile of polaroid pictures on the countertop. These were evidence that he was here at one point, that he really did exist. There were pictures of us all in different angles, faces, and places. I look away. I felt like if I looked at it for any longer, I would find myself wanting to destroy them as well.

I leaned against a barren white wall with paint splatters and slowly slid down. I pulled my knees up and hugged them to my chest. I laid my head down and silently cried.

You fucking liar…

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Currently…

I grabbed the black chalk and sat up to drag another line down.

Day 63

In other words, it was another fucking day without him.

I walked to bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I looked up, not even surprised at my own haggard reflection anymore. Dull blue eyes nearing on grey stared back at me, dark eyebags adorning the skin underneath. My skin has become more sallow, pale and extremely unhealthy looking. My hair was floppy, longer and it lost it's shiny sky blue gleam. I was wearing faded ripped, black skinny jeans and a plain loose white v neck.

All in all, I looked like shit. He would probably say the same thing as well.

I go back to my bedroom and lie down.

I reach under my bed and blindly clutch for another bottle. I pull one up and uncap it.

Jack Daniel's today, huh?

I didn't care. The stronger it was, the better it was for the pain.

This was basically an average day for me now. Wake up, clean up, eat, lay down, drink, smoke, go to sleep. I felt numb, lifeless, void, and hollow. This kind of life wasn't far fetched for me before I met Ichigo, but why do I feel like I'm slowly dying everyday? I was so used to it this before him. It's just like him to disrupt and fuck things up. I was born of a sad life and I was going to die a sad death. I accepted that, so you know what? Kurosaki can go fuck himself. Fuck him. He was my entire life's downfall.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck. You.

Why did you change things? Why did you make me happy? Why did you make me fall in love with you? Why did you give me hope? Why did you make me want to try?

I WAS PERFECTLY FINE DAMN IT.

You're dragging me back down to hell, but this time, I'm thinking you're not coming to pull me back up.

I throw the glass bottle against the wall. Minuscule pieces of glass shattering like crystals.

I want to cry. But I can't. I've run out of tears.

I turn to my side and curl up in a ball.

If my past self would see me right now, they would sneer in disgust and call me pathetic. I don't care. I keep thinking that a lot. But I really don't, not anymore. I'd give up anything, anything, just to see him again. My pride, my stubbornness, I don't give a shit, because I would gladly lay all of that down just for him.

I shut my eyes close and clutch my phone to my chest.

I dial his number, remembering it by heart at this point.

His voice comes on, and suddenly I'm okay…

I repeat it. Again. Again. And again.

I don't know how much time has passed but that doesn't matter. All that matters was that moment in time where I actually wanted to pursue a future… Hell, he was my future.

Hours have gone by at this point because the sun has long since gone down.

I dial his number, pressing the buttons like my fingers were on repeat.

"We're sorry but the number you have reached is not in service at this time. Please check or try your call again later. Thank you. Good bye."