Intertwined
Set seven months after Fabric of Life.
I do not own any part of Tite Kubo's Bleach. I do however, own the story idea for two of my favorite Bleach characters, who have made a nice appearance in the most recent arc, Death and the Strawberry 2. As custom, this is a birthday story. Enjoy. Happy Birthday, Renji (31 August).
Just over a year together, and there was a comfort unlike he had ever felt before. He gazed at the portrait on the opposite wall: his birthday gift from the owner of the arm that was currently draped over his chest. He smiled, thinking that two artistic people should never be able to live together without killing each other with their huge egos or oppressive depression. But he and Renji had neither the ego nor the angst in their auras. As Byakuya remembered how Renji had surprised him seven months ago for his birthday, he pondered whether the gift that he had chosen for Renji's birthday would elicit the same awed response from his lover as he still felt when he saw the painting.
The sun peeked in through the sheer curtains of the apartment bedroom. The unusually cool early August morning breeze gently moved the material, altering the light patterns over the sleepy and sleeping bodies. Byakuya would be leaving that evening for a trip to Italy: a business trip for the museum. A wealthy widow had left a collection of some early René Magritte sketches to the Art Institute, and he was to authenticate the artwork and then arrange the insured transport back to the museum. He was also to check on the exhibit of the René Magriette's "Time Transfixed," which was on loan from the Chicago institution for the first of two European tours.
Rukia and Karin were assisting him with the gift he had planned, just as they had been in on the plan seven months earlier when Renji had surprised Byakuya for his birthday. Those two women were forces of nature, and he was quite glad that they were on his side: the powerful litigator and the Pulitzer prize-winning journalist. Their husbands—unique in their love for strong women—knew how and when to get out of their way.
Renji had no idea what was in store for him. The thought made Byakuya smile.
"Should I be worried about that smile?" The voice, rough with sleep and mirth, was partially muffled by the pillow.
"Only if you plan on making it out of bed before noon."
"Ahhh, a pleasure filled morning. Just what I was dreaming of." A leering smile showed through the loose, blood-red hair.
Byakuya and Renji wrestled in a bit of bed-bound, pleasure-filled exercise before lips met in a passion-filled kiss, which led to more intimate activities. Business trips usually inspired long mornings of love making for the partners, it seemed, to make up for anticipated lost time.
Byakuya's one bag, a carry-on, was waiting by the front door as Karin and Rukia entered the apartment with their husbands in tow.
Byakuya hugged and kissed the women as they entered.
"All packed?" asked Rukia as the men shook hands.
"Yes, all packed."
Karin, arched an eyebrow upwards as she gazed down at the single carry-on bag in the foyer.
"Where is your other bag, Byakuya?" inquired Karin.
"I only have one bag."
"For two weeks? You have only a carry-on?" Karin asked incredulously.
Renji appeared from the kitchen. "What more does he need?" Renji asked, then greeted the two couples. "Hey, Toshiro and Kaien! Good to see you again. What can I get you to drink? We have beer and wine."
"Merlot."
"Beer."
Renji looked over at the two women.
"Beer."
"Merlot."
Renji chuckled; the two couples had married their opposites in drink.
"Really, one bag?" Rukia took over the carry-on inquiry when they had all settled down on the terrace with their drinks. "Is that all you would take on a two week trip, Renji?"
"Sure, if you pack it just right. A few shirts, a few pairs of slacks, a pair of shorts, and I'm done."
"Going 'commando', are you?" Karin asked, curious.
The group laughed, but Renji never answered.
"Well?"
"Everything fits, Karin," he chuckled. "And if it doesn't, there's always someplace to buy it where I'm going."
The meal and the afternoon passed by pleasantly with lively conversation. Soon, it was nearly time for Byakuya to depart for the airport.
"Renji, what do you want for your birthday?" asked Rukia.
"The same thing I want every year, a nice dinner and good conversation with the people I love."
"Nothing else? You can get that any time."
"Nope, I have all that I could want, need, or wish for." He smiled at the group, then looked over to his partner.
"Sappy simple one, you are," chuckled Kaien. Rukia tried to elbow her husband, but he had outsmarted her by moving his chair out of reach. They all laughed again, this time at Rukia's expense.
"Renji, I remember you told Ichigo once that you would love to paint in Italy. Is that no longer true?" asked Karin.
A wistful expression on his face, Renji replied, "That was just the dream of a college kid who wanted to see the world."
"You make it sound like you're an old geezer, Red," Karin said as she tried to rub his head. "Come on, I'll help your weary, aching, bones clear the table, so we can get Byakuya to the airport."
Karin, Rukia, and Byakuya smiled when Renji's back was turned.
In the week that passed since the afternoon lunch before Byakuya's departure, Renji had difficulty sleeping. He would toss and turn all night, sleeping fitfully for a few hours, but never really getting a good night's sleep. The memories of his dream to paint in Italy flooded back as soon as he fell asleep, only to wake from the very real nightmare he had lived through years before.
It had been his dream, in college. He and Ichigo had promised each other that, when they both had good jobs and enough vacation time, they would spend six weeks in Europe. Renji would paint and Ichigo would take cooking classes. Three weeks in France, followed by three weeks in Italy. They had been looking forward to the trip. They were to stay in friend's places in both countries, and their friends would stay in their Chicago apartment. Simple. They had planned to leave on Ichigo's birthday, and come back on Renji's.
Renji had just gotten out of a two-hour meeting about three o'clock in the afternoon, the day before they were to depart, when his office phone rang. The display read "Ichigo Cell."
"Hey, sunshine," Renji had said into the phone.
"Renji?" The woman in the the other end sounded distraught.
"Isane? What's going on? Why are you calling me from Ichigo's phone?"
"Ichigo had two seizures here at the lab. They've taken him to the Northwestern Hospital ER."
Renji's stomach plummeted.
"I'll be right there."
He hung up his office phone, and he noticed the six missed calls on his cell phone, and three messages. He flipped open the phone, and went to his voicemail. His heart broke when he heard Ichigo struggle to talk in all three. "Help. Renji. Help," had been all that he could make out.
As he was heading for the elevator, he told his admin and his boss what had happened. He then called Isshin, Karin, and Yuzu. He had rubbed his hands over his face just before the elevator stopped and the doors opened on ground level. Before he realized what had happened, he was in a taxi making its way down Michigan Avenue towards the hospital.
Renji arrived in the ER, and was met by Isane. She directed Renji to a private room in the ER. Since Ichigo worked as a lead researcher at the Feinberg School of Medicine at Northwestern, he was given a bit better treatment, as he was one of their own.
"They have taken him for a CAT scan. He had another seizure here in the ER. They're trying to rule out several things—stroke being one of them," she explained. They sat and waited. A half an hour later, Isshin, Masaki, Karin, and Yuzu arrived. Both Isshin and Masaki were doctors, so they were able to get a bit more information from the ER staff.
Renji had been holding Ichigo's hand. Ichigo's one hand was weak, but he had been able to sit up and speak without issue. Renji squeezed Ichigo's hand when an hour later, the prognosis was made: a mass in the brain. The next fifteen months were highs and lows of dealing with an aggressive brain tumor, before Ichigo finally succumbed to the cancer.
They never made it to Europe.
Renji had not thought about the failed trip until the afternoon conversation the week prior. Not even when Byakuya had told him that he was going to Italy did it trigger these memories. Renji sighed, and looked at the clock. Two a.m. He had early morning conference calls with the European offices in three hours, with no hope of getting any sleep between now and then. Renji sighed, got out of bed, put on a pair of pajama pants, pulled out his sketch book, and began to draw.
The next day, he went to lunch with Karin.
"You look like shit, Renji." She paused and asked, "You miss him that much?"
He looked at her and smiled a bit. "I was visited by my past last night, and it stayed way too late."
Karin studied Renji, knowing that haunted, sleepless face—it had been a staple after Ichigo's death. She thought she had seen the last of it when Renji met Byakuya.
"Well, tell it to fuck off next time, and leave you alone," she replied and picked up her menu. Renji chuckled, and some color returned to his face.
After lunch, Renji felt better, and went to the office for the first time that day, having worked from home that morning. The early morning conference calls with the European offices was spent discussing a serious issue with the newest multi-million euro campaign with a large Italian client. It was determined someone from the States should come in and help with the presentation. Renji had suggested a few members of his staff for the mission to the Vice-President. In the end, the higher executive chose Renji to attend to the situation. The five day trip would take Renji to Florence instead of the Milan office; the client was on holiday and wanted to meet in Firenze. Renji would be leaving the day Byakuya would arrive home, meaning, Renji would be traveling on his birthday. "Not the way I wanted to see Italy, but, I know I will be treated well," Renji thought wistfully. No sooner than he got his travel instructions, Byakuya called, and Renji relayed the news to his partner.
"Well, I think we'll truly be ships passing in the night, Byakuya. You'll be arriving just as I'm leaving."
"If I had known sooner, I could have extended my stay. As it stands, you will be here by yourself for your birthday." Byakuya sounded frustrated.
"As I remember it, you told me that we are professionals, and that our schedules won't always mesh. We can celebrate when I get back. You know me –birthday week or birthday month—as long as I can celebrate it with you, I'll be fine." Renji tried to cheer up his partner. "I have an idea—why don't all of you still get together for dinner at Francesca's as planned to celebrate my birthday, and give me a call. Then we can still celebrate together."
"Next you will suggest we bring along a laptop, set it up at a place on the table and Skype you."
"Couldn't do that—another ad agency came up with that idea for Coca-Cola."
Both men laughed at the joke, and spoke for a short time before they said their good-byes.
Renji felt the buzz in his hand as soon as he powered on his phone. He flipped the phone open and smiled at the text.
Happy Birthday, Renji.
He texted back that he arrived in Paris and was waiting on his next flight to Firenze, and he would text again when he arrived in Italy. Renji sighed as he put away his phone. He had three hours before boarding the next flight in his trek across Europe.
"Not enough time to do anything but sit and wait. Too bad I can't see the Eiffel Tower from the windows at the airport," Renji thought wryly.
As Renji made himself comfortable in the chair at the airport cafe, he pulled out his sketchbook—something to pass the time—and he began to draw what he saw as a young boy at his grandmother's house: a picture of the l'Arc de Triomphe. Lost in his memories of his grandmother's house, he didn't notice the couple that sat next to him as he sketched.
"That is incredible," the woman whispered to her husband, as they looked at the nearly finished sketch.
"Paris must have left an impression on you," the man said, garnering Renji's attention. "Your artwork is the best I've seen—even from the artists along the Seine."
Renji smiled. "I was able to study it for a while. Would you like this?" he offered. He signed the corner, and removed the picture from the book. Woman and her husband were admiring the work when Renji added, "I might get to see it in person one day. Enjoy."
The shocked couple watched Renji make his way through the last two airport check points to reach his plane.
Renji's plane had landed late afternoon at the small airport in Firenze. A driver waited with a sign outside of baggage claim. The middle-aged man was surprised when Renji approached him with only a carry-on and computer case in hand, ready to go.
"Buon giorno, Senor Abarai. Il bagaglio?"
"Buon giorno. Non. Ho tutto con me."
The ride from the airport in the small but roomy European car was uneventful. He was to meet the head of the advertising campaign and the client for dinner that evening. The driver informed him dinner was at nine, with drinks at eight-thirty. He would be picked up at eight-fifteen. Renji had requested a stay at an Italian rather than an American hotel, and was please to see the small Italian hotel, just refurbished by a young couple. He checked in to the Hotel Ritz, relinquished his passport for the Interpol check, and made his way up to his fourth-floor room.
Opening the doors to the terrace a few minutes later, he was glad for the rooftop view the hotel provided. It was much like what he was used to back in Chicago, and the cityscape made it feel a bit more like home.
His phone buzzed again. He saw Byakuya's name on the display.
"How jet-lagged are you?"
"Jet-lagged enough that I'm tempted to lie down and sleep for a short bit. I got some sleep on the plane to Paris, so I should be good until after dinner. I'm glad the Italians have a later start to their day. The latest presentation is in my mailbox, so I'll take a look at it before the dinner meeting tonight."
"Where are you going to dinner this evening?"
Renji looked at the itinerary on his laptop. "Pandemonio."
"Ah, yes. Mama will take good care of you. The seafood is wonderful."
"You've been there?"
"Yes, a few years ago. A colleague recommended the place while I was looking at a few pieces at the Uffizi for a future exhibition at the Art Institute. Mama is a wonderful woman who will insist you have some of her homemade limoncello."
Renji laughed. "Just what I need to make me pass out for sure—grain alcohol!"
"Remember to get up before dawn tomorrow to watch the sun rise. It will reset your circadian rhythm, and you won't be jet lagged for the whole time."
Renji closed his eyes as a breeze came across the terrace, remembering a sun rise last year in his apartment with the man on the phone. Renji imagined Byakuya's soft breath was next to him rather than a continent away.
"I miss you Renji. Happy Birthday."
"I miss you too, Byakuya."
A knock at the door awakened Renji from his reverie. "I have to go. I'll text or email you tomorrow."
"'Till then."
Renji ended the call and answered the door. A petite, dark haired woman with dark brown expressive eyes stood there, carrying a vase of flowers and a basket of local fruit, cheese, olives, nuts, and wine.
"Signor Abarai, Tanti Auguri."
"Grazie mille, signora."
The hotel owner smiled as she entered the room and placed the items on the table, along with his passport, then left, still smiling. It was official: the Italian smile was not only contagious, it made him feel less tired. Renji walked over to the items of the birthday basket and inspected them. He had not noticed, at first glance, that the basket contained two wine glasses and plates to enjoy the contents. Renji, knowing that dinner was at least four hours away, started to eat some of the items in the basket to help tide him over until then.
After a bit of nourishment, a shower, and perusal over the presentation, Renji dressed for the evening.
The warm summer night air and the gentle rhythm of thump-thump-thump of the tires over the old cobblestones nearly lulled Renji to sleep as the driver made his way through the streets of Florence. He forced himself to look out the small car's window to keep his brain stimulated. A few Italians were taking a leisurely walk along the narrow sidewalks. Renji looked out to the shop windows as the car drove by. Old world tradition florists, garden markets, butchers, bakeries, cheese stores, confectionaries, lined the streets. Most of the shops were closed for evening; the wares of the sellers were lit by the soft yellow glow of the streets lamps.
"Too bad my schedule is so packed that I can't go exploring. Maybe next time," Renji thought wistfully.
Renji struck up a conversation with the driver, a further effort to keep himself from falling under the spell of the car's street rhythm. The driver told him the broghi of San Frediano is in the Oltarno (the other side of the Arno). It was named after the Porta San Frediano, one of the doors to the city when it was walled-in. At the porta, a marble marker shows the height the Arno reached during the 1966 flood. He told Renji a popular game is to go find those watermarks around the neighborhood. The driver also pointed out the scars from World War II can be seen as well along some of the facades. Renji was still looking for the marks on the buildings as he arrived at the small restaurant. The driver, Massimo, informed Renji that he would pick him up about eleven-thirty that evening, and to enjoy his dinner.
Renji was greeted at the door by a small Italian-looking woman. She greeted him as if he were family, and led him into the back of the restaurant. Mama guided him through the busy kitchen to the patio for an al fresco dinner meeting. As the door to the kitchen opened into the rear dining area, Renji realized that there were many people there to dine with him. All smiling. Most, familiar. There stood Byakuya, with Karin, Toshiro, Rukia, Kaien, Renji's parents, Ichigo's parents, friends, Italian and American colleagues from his advertising firm, and the supposed client.
"Sopresa! Tanti Auguri!"
After his initial shock, Renji, smiled, shook his head, and laughed. This had to be a dream. All his family and friends were here to see him, to dine—in Italy—on his birthday.
The party lasted well into the early hours of the morning, with Mama and her staff joining into help celebrate his birthday.
During the evening, Renji learned from family and co-workers that Byakuya had planned this for months—since just after his own birthday. Rukia told him they all had all taken direct flights overseas—while Renji had been stuck with layovers—just so that they could all arrive before he did. Toshiro and Kaien joked that it would be hard to top this as a birthday gift. Renji realized just how much planning had gone into this little party. His wish for a nice dinner with family and friends had been granted.
Surprisingly, they were all staying at the same hotel, and the group decided to walk back instead of taking taxis or cars. It was a beautiful summer night for walking along the Arno. Karin and Rukia came along side Renji and linked arms with him, as Byakuya dropped back to continue a conversation with Ichigo's parents.
"Better than Francesca's?" asked Karin.
"Surprised?" asked Rukia.
"Yes, and Yes," Renji laughed. "Though Francesca's would've been fine."
"You know," Rukia began, "when Byakuya found out about your ruined trip to Europe from Ichigo's parents at Thanksgiving..."
"...And found out from your colleagues that, even though you are the world-wide creative director..." interrupted Karin.
"...You never made it to Europe in your travels..." Rukia continued.
"...And you have not taken..." Toshiro cut off his wife and placed his arms around her waist.
"Romantic Italy, and you are walking arm-in-arm with your brother-in-law instead of your husband? How scandalous, Ms. Kurosaki-Hitsugaya! What would your readers say?"
Catching on, she unlinked herself from Renji and said, "They would say it's shameful and shocking! It flies in the face of love at its very core!"
"So be quiet and let me erase all that gossip." Toshiro scooped up his wife bridal style and walked the last block to the hotel with Karin in his arms.
Rukia was laughing at the antics of the pair, when, with no warning, Kaien picked his wife up the same way, and ran her to the hotel. The rest of the crowd laughed, not rushing at all to the hotel.
With each floor, the group of partygoers diminished, as they left to go to their rooms after hugging Renji and wishing him Happy Birthday. Karin hugged Renji, she whispered in his ear, "Renji, you make sure birthdays are special. You deserve all of this and more."
A short while later, Byakuya and Renji found themselves alone in their room, lying in bed. Renji looked over to Byakuya and smiled. "This is the best part—having you naked in bed."
"Nothing else? We could have stayed at home for that."
"Having you naked in bed, in Italy, that's the best." Renji corrected while he moved to kiss Byakuya sweetly on the lips, then started to progress down to his jaw and neck.
"I hope you still feel the same way in three weeks, when we leave for Paris."
Renji stopped kissing and looked up at Byakuya, unsure if he had heard correctly. "What did you say?"
"I know that you originally planned for three weeks in Paris first, then three weeks in Italy."
"I think I can deal with that minor change," Renji whispered.
Byakuya brushed a lock of hair from Renji's face. "It had been easy to convince everyone, including the people at your firm of the idea. They were the ones that told me you have a great deal of vacation time—as you have not taken much of it the last few years."
Renji just stared at Byakuya. Everyone had played their parts quite well—knowing for months about the surprise—and not let on.
"You can explore and draw to your heart's content."
"You'll be here, with me?"
"Of course! I wouldn't miss seeing either place without you."
Renji, speechless, pulled Byakuya closer into a fierce embrace. Renji's voice, cracking with emotion, whispered in Byakuya's ear, "Thank you. For everything. For loving me. For giving me my life back. For helping me live my dream."
Renji felt Byakuya squeeze him a bit, knowing that the sentiments expressed were returned.
"Are you still jet-lagged?" Byakuya inquired, as Renji began to kiss him again.
Byakuya's felt the vibration of Renji's mirth against his chest. "I think the limoncello breathed new life into me."
"Good, because there is more to your birthday gift."
"Does it have anything to do with being naked, in bed, in Italy?"
"Why, yes it does."
Later, as the sun began to rise, the tired and sated men watched the horizon from their terrace.
"Are you sure this will work?"
"It has not failed me yet. You just need to watch the sun appear over the horizon. Renji, look!"
Just then, the outer golden edge of the sun appeared in the pink, orange, and deep gold of dawn over the line of the earth, and slowly began to creep up from the edge of night, beginning the day. They watched in silence as the disc continued its rise across the early morning sky.
As the two men stood on the terrace facing the east, Byakuya's back to Renji's chest, it reminded Renji of their very first night together just over a year ago. Renji's thoughts drifted to the the twists and turns of fate that lead him to this time, this place. The planning and love that Byakuya had put into a gift of a long forgotten dream. He smiled as he felt humbled and fortunate that their families and friends had meshed together so well. They were a living testament to bonds created over both love lost and love found, and their lives had now become lovingly and deeply intertwined.
Renji whispered into Byakuya's ear, "Let's go to bed."
"To sleep this time?" Byakuya smiled and turned away from the growing light to face Renji.
"We'll see how we feel when we get to the bed," Renji smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "I love you, Baykuya. You've made this the most memorable and best birthday, ever."
"I love you, Renji. I am glad you had a good start on your birthday celebration."
"Come on, let's get a few hours sleep before the masses pound on our door for breakfast and sight-seeing."
They joined hands, interlacing their fingers as they made their way back to the room from the terrace, to dream of what was to come, and leaving the shadows of the past behind.
Once again, thanks goes out to my beta, fellow writer, published authoress, and good friend, Rukilex (aka Shira Anthony), who was grateful that I finally put some angst in this story. Grazie mille e Tanti Auguri, il mio buon amico.