A/N: So I know a lot of people aren't fond of stripper stories, which is probably the reason why this is the first time I've dared to write one. I'm looking at this as a bit of a play actually, scoops from the whole story, so maybe in the end I'll add a "Missing Scenes" chapter or something. This is already looking like it's gonna be very long. This chapter alone is like a double chapter, it's consisted of 2 parts. There's just so much to happen, I'm not sure if I'll manage to put it all in a 2-shot like I wanted to. It's probably going to stretch to a 4chapter story the way I see it. With a lot of drama, drama, drama... But don't worry people, NO CHARACTER DEATH. I'm saying this for those who have read "Que Sera Sera" and might get scared due to the 'drama' warning.
Okay, furthermore, the song I used here is "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse. Let her rest in peace. She had a beautiful voice despite the drugs.
For those who are wondering! Since I'm a big fan of both IchiHitsu and GinHitsu, I'm making the promised 'Colour' series a collection of two GinHitsu stories and two IchiHitsu ones. For good balance.
Now, as far as this story goes... I think it's safe to say that once again, I am experimenting. This is quite different from the stuff I've written so far and if you make it till the end, you'll see why. There will be a lemon towards last chapter... do I really even need to say that? Don't leave me any meanie reviews or I'll get upset and who knows what might happen then. The story's very narrative at times, but don't get scared. Support will be appreciated in all forms, okay? Now off you go, crazy bunnies!
Oh, and last, but not least, thanks to SirenShadow for the support, you are the best! :3
P.S. fucked up the summary but now it's all settled ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
The Colour of Water
Act One: "Nocturnal"
1.
…I love you much
It's not enough
You love blow and I love puff
And life is like a pipe
And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside...
The night was young and brave that damned Tuesday in the middle of the month, the full, silver body of the moon barely having had the time to settle down after tumbling across the ink-coloured sky to hang curiously over the heads of the people. The air around the city was yet to acquire its thick, concentrated tinge, the syrupy texture that claimed the beginning of another nocturnal paradise. The clubs were barely coming to life, their soft hum slowly blossoming to a buzz, to a purr, to a roar, like the stages of a wild cat, waking up from its deep slumber to find a lost, careless pray wandering nearby. Powers that could only reign the darkness and fates that could only unfold now, they were rousing now, reaching to claim their territory with scrawny, bodiless hands and fingers.
That's what Gin believed. And Gin believed in so little things nowadays.
"Nocturnal" wasn't a big club. It was actually a narrow rectangle, snuggling closely in the core of another building, its front made of black, non-see-through glass and adorned with a couple of warning signs and posters. Atop of the door there was a curvy, neon version of its name, the elaborate letters glowing faintly whenever the thing was opened to invite whoever was bold enough to cross the threshold and find out what was on the other side. And what was on the other side, was a complete hoax of reality.
Gin had grown used to the difference between what was in and what was out. Three years of working as barman at the place had turned him apathetic, callous, impartial even. He could not feel the plush, velvety embrace of the club, the way it so licentiously stripped every newcomer of their inhibitions, he could not taste the softness of the red and black colours along the walls and the carpet, couldn't be moved by the dull, comforting illumination leaking lazily from the opaque lamps so very comfortingly… all he saw was clients and colleagues and greed, and want, and lust. So much of it, actually, that detachment had turned into a necessity – one that kept him from being sick night after night of spending behind the counter.
When he entered the place that evening, Gin knew something had changed. He couldn't quite put his finger on it yet, the subtle waft of the novelty swirling bodiless around him like a thin stream of transparent smoke, but he let his eyes wander anyway, searching for the source. He wasn't sure if he was imagining things, if maybe the oscillating noises of the streets that he had left behind were playing tricks on him, pulling at his senses even in the plush-strangled silence of the club. Fact was, though, something didn't feel quite the way it usually did and Ichimaru was set on finding out what it was.
Striding quietly to the pith of the building, the man stopped before the wide, smooth bar counter he spent his nights behind and let his palm lay flat on it, re-acquainting himself with the bump-less surface through the touch. The solid construction of his work-spot was soothing, if sometimes quite restricting, and along the strange 'prison cell' air that it held, it also carried a sort of protection to his sanity. Why? Because it drew a line. There he was, joggling liquids and pouring cocktails like a well-designed machine with no feelings and no physical reactions, and over there, across of him, was the isolated island of lewdness and depravity that he was forced to watch every day after sunset. Like an ugly, vicious nest, that circle before him buzzed and shifted, sweaty bodies, slick, naked skin and eyes, so many eyes, riveted on the sight… Pathetic… Ichimaru exhaled slowly through his nose, lips pursing into a tight line as his fingers across the bar-plot curled with a certain trace of cruelty. It was a gesture he had developed over the time, a way to vent out his despise towards this place and towards what was happening between its walls. They were a pretty decent striptease club, he knew that. No funny business when the girls were done for the night, no funny business during their work, and most certainly no funny business between him and them. Ichimaru and the dancers, they were all desperate people, misfortunate, all in need for a job that neither wanted to do if they could choose otherwise. Each of them craved a change, a miracle, a ticket out. And were willing to do pretty much whatever it took to get it.
Gin had done just that - everything. And if he didn't screw things up (which he was so great at doing) then maybe the next few month would be his last ones here.
Wouldn't that be a dream come true?
Right now the place was almost eerie empty, completely and utterly devoid of any human presence. There was no one on the stools behind the bar, no one in any of the curtain-covered "private" nooks and not a soul wandering around the podium with the poles. The only sign that maybe the club wasn't as vacant as it seemed to be, was the faint gleam, coming from underneath the door to the dressing rooms… although (Gin grimaced at the realization) the man was pretty sure it was a bit early for either of the dancers to have arrived. Trying not to think much of it, Ichimaru made a move to check what was going on, but before he had had the chance, the door burst open and his tall, ever-so-'pleasant' boss appeared, smiling his fake, smarmy smile.
"Gin!" the man simpered, arms thrown back in an avuncular invitation as though he wanted a hug. The whole damn world knew that he didn't. "Just the man I needed!"
"Wha' fo', Jay?" the fox inquired flatly, his gaze shifting a little to the smaller figure that had trailed soundlessly behind his boss. He couldn't make out what the person looked like, other than the fact that they were extremely short, but the knowledge that there was someone unfamiliar in the room send a wave of uneasiness to the silver-haired one's back. What he hell?
"Ah!" his boss exclaimed as he caught on his employee's stare and moved swiftly to the side to reveal the person behind him. "That's Hitsugaya Toushiro. He'll be our cleaner boy from now on. Mopping floors, washing the glasses, you know… All the things you're always complaining about." Jay paused, turning to direct a smug smirk at the barman. "For a very decent salary."
Which, translated from Jay's language, meant miniscule payment for drudgery labor.
Gin felt his boss' hand land on his shoulder and he tensed, contemplating for one long moment whether it would be forgivable to swat the offending appendage away. He resented being touched by anyone, his employer more than anything, and having been forced to endure the revolting feeling for no apparent reason was pretty much like being coerced to eat your vegetables when you obviously don't want to. His muscles rippled under the other man's palm, contracting with strain and he found himself breathing more deeply than he usually would just to keep his slipping composure in check. Luckily, just before his quite obnoxious temper had got the best of him, the touch vanished and Jay's broad back turned to him, the taller man already taking off towards one of the side rooms.
"I'm putting you in charge of him, Gin, don't let him laze about." And as though to set a good example, the boss disappeared in his personal, sound-proof room, probably to have a nap or make a few pleasant phone calls to his friends, dogs, mother, whatever.
Splendid.
Ichimaru let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back with his elbows against the counter, gaze now directing to the boy before him as he let himself take in the other one's appearance fully and unreservedly this time.
"The hell?" he murmured lowly, his grin that had disappeared momentarily during his boss' presence, now returning full power as he absorbed the sight before him with a mix of surprise and genuine merriment, both of those emotions so very rare in their advents nowadays, that Gin had forgotten they even existed. Whatever it was that he had expected to see from and in the child who had obviously managed to bargain his way to one of the most abhorred positions imaginable, it wasn't this. In fact, it had been anything but this, the view that spread before him so absurd that for one long moment Ichimaru was deeply tempted to laugh out loud and point the poor kid the front door - because surely, a boy like that could not be serious about working at a striptease club. "Toushiro, right?"
"Hitsugaya." The boy corrected very seriously and Gin's fingers thrummed against some invisible surface as he tilted his head to the side with a hint of curiosity and chewed on the inside of his lower lip for a minute. The most striking features about the new employee were probably consisted of the fact that he looked incredibly young and incredibly thin, his low stature rather noticeable even as he stood uneasily with body stretched to its full length. His eyes, underneath a tuft of shocking white locks, were gazing right back at Ichimaru, emerald orbs searching with quite endearing vehemence for the color that was hidden so very stubbornly beneath the two slyly thinned slits. This Hitsugaya, Gin mulled staidly, looked a little too persistent, a little too eager, and way too impatient, the mix of all those three things seeping from the kid's pores into the air around them along with that hidden sort of alacrity that that always accompanied the youngest of men. Toushiro was going to be quite an interesting colleague if he decided to stick around for longer than one night, and for Gin there was nothing wrong about that, especially if along with some entertainment he got a bit of help on his workplace. The only problem was…
…Those clothes!
"Wha're ya? Some rocker, punk, what? Gimme a hint, I dun get ta stumble upon people like ya in the atmosphere 'm currently livin' in." Ichimaru teased, examining with a tinge of amusement the armament of metal that clung to just about everything the boy was dressed in. A long silver chain hung from the loops of the kid's black jeans, reaching to his mid-thigh and dangling there freely in a way that the man just couldn't pinpoint as comfortable, the whole thing probably meant to match with the thick, hefty string of hoops that connected into a loose sort of bracelet around Toushiro's left wrist. He was wearing a pair of fingerless leather gloves with small iron studs on his hands and yet another (but thinner and slightly longer) chain around his neck, the accessories somehow managing to accent even more on the shorter male's extremely pale complexion. A classical leather jacket was resting peacefully in the curve of his elbow, leaving a stark white button-up shirt as the only obstacle between his body and Ichimaru's eyes, while his feet, from what Gin could tell, were shuffling along the floor in a pair of almost knee-high boots.
"I don't like labels." Hitsugaya stated dryly, but a bit of an embarrassment was clear in his voice as he crossed his arms over his chest. "And I certainly don't care if you like how I dress."
"Good. 'Cuz I dun." He didn't mind it, actually, but he most definitely wasn't going to tell the kid that. "How old are ya, pet?"
"It's Hitsugaya." Toushiro bristled, mouth curving with a certain implication of childishness to the side. "And twenty-four."
Oh, this is hilarious! Ichimaru found himself biting back a chuckle as he rested more of his weight on the edge of the counter and crossed his legs at the ankles.
"Try again." He offered smoothly and the stony expression on the shorter male's face faltered a little, smudging around the edges into one of uncertainty.
"Twenty-two." Hitsugaya corrected himself, but the almost imperceptible quiver in his voice gave him away instantly.
"An' yer third try?"
"Twen-" Toushiro began, but his voice trailed off, eyes losing their striking fire to make place to a sparkle of resignation. "-tish."
"Now le's be completely precise. How old are ya?"
"Nineteen." Hitsugaya admitted lowly and Ichimaru hummed a short tune under his breath thoughtfully, contemplating the information that he had already guessed pretty easily.
"An' how much did ya tell Jay?" when Toushiro showed genuine reluctance in answering that question, the fox-face just waved his hand dismissively. "Ya kno' what? Dun care. 'm not one ta judge, so as long as ya do yer job, I dun mind."
The boy perked up at that statement, a bit of suspicion still coloring his features as he eyed the man before him with a small scowl.
"You don't?"
"No." Ichimaru confirmed before straightening up and shedding his jacket with one fluid movement. "Now come ova 'ere, 'm gonna show ya how things work."
Toushiro was a hard-working boy, that much was clear. His schedule was even worse than Gin's, more working hours and much less money, but he wasn't complaining the way everybody else at 'Nocturnal' always felt the need to. He did what he had to do, no skipping and no lazing around, and he never rushed things, unlike what Ichimaru had been expecting from a teenage boy. He came to the bar an hour or so before everybody else, mostly cleaning up the floors with the old mop he had been provided with, and left when the rest of them did – early in the morning. During the time when the club was actually opened, he mostly wiped tables and washed glasses, ignoring the weird looks the clients often gave him upon spotting the out-of-place clothes he was still persistent on wearing. With his sleeves rolled back, chains daily changing their hanging positions and gloves covering his hands almost all the time (the only exception being when he was doing the dishes), Hitsugaya was like a black sheep, wandering around a flock of white ones. And most astoundingly, he didn't seem to care.
During the first few days, Gin limited himself to merely giving his little subordinate instructions on how to do this and that. Sure, he didn't pride himself to be the embodiment of amiability, but something in the pit of his stomach urged him to be even more reserved when it came to Hitsugaya… He wasn't entirely certain what the reason for that was but he deemed it had something to do with the fact that Toushiro looked like something that had just been freshly plucked from a vacuumed package. His whole body seemed to be screaming 'unblemished' and 'pure', the two adjectives clashing too viciously, too explicitly with the whole environment the boy was trying to fit in. It just wasn't right for someone like that to be exposed to views as the ones that were so vividly manifested at 'Nocturnal' on a daily basis. Everybody could see it, everybody could fuckin' feel how unnatural this situation was and that was probably a further reason why elderly men kept staring dumbly when they walked through the door and saw this fleck of innocence wandering about in the night world, picking the dirt that was left from everybody else surrounding him. It was a downright desecration. So much so, actually, that Ichimaru almost had the feeling that his eyes, conceived so well under those guileful lids, ached from just looking. Surveying the way this child moved, humming a unfamiliar tune under his breath as he rubbed the mud footprints off the tiled wooden floor and wiped the spilled alcohol from the cracks.
Hitsugaya was like garnish light, permeating illicitly in a pitch-dark room, he was marring everything with how perfect he was, and while this benignancy that he was radiating seemed to wash over the bar like a waft of cool breeze in a scalding summer day, it was also quite disturbing. Incidentally, Ichimaru didn't want the white-haired teen to stay, he wanted him gone just as much, as he soon realized, he need his presence in order to stay sane. The bar was no place for children and the sooner the boy realized that, the better - that was what Gin was trying to tell himself as he did his best to act hostile towards Toushiro. If a little pushing around and lack of kindness from the authority was going to do the trick, the fox was willing to do just that. No one needed another martyr case, especially a 'twentish'-year old one, they already had enough.
Surprisingly, Toushiro didn't seem to mind the treatment, accepting every harsher behest with a shrug and an almost non-existent smirk, and something in the way he acted whenever Ichimaru snapped at him, gave the impression that the boy knew fairly well what the man was trying to do. Whenever Hitsugaya felt that his 'superior' needed assistant, he just quietly slipped by the taller male's side to provide some help, his nimble fingers working alongside with Ichimaru's large hands, ministration harmonized with the older male rather than getting in the way. Gin usually met those displays with silence and absolutely no hint of gratitude, choosing instead to voice some half-hearted teasing whenever the two of them were done with the work.
Yet as the days rolled on, night after busy night spent side by side with the shorter male, Ichimaru found himself getting increasingly more comfortable with the boy's presence and those unusual jade eyes, meeting his saucily, knowingly, unlike the way most people were always tempted to look away from the fox. One dry word a day turned to two, then to sentences, then to short chats and until Gin knew it, he was telling the petite boy how he wanted to open a bar one day – a real one, with no dancers and no horny, chubby man trying to sneak their hands where they didn't belong. He didn't tell the boy how he was planning to do that – something stopped him every time the words pressed against his tongue – but he wasn't uncomfortable describing the picture in his head to the teen, not at all. Toushiro, he noticed, really liked visual descriptions. When he told a story, he always got very deep into the details of how things had looked, smelled, felt, sometimes chattering about that even more passionately than about the gist of the tale itself. What surprised Gin was that for some reason all those long relations didn't sound tedious in the slightest bit. It could be the way Hitsugaya launched into his very peculiar sea of adjectives and metaphors, it could be the distant, dreamy expression that settled on his face when he did, Ichimaru didn't know.
All he knew was that when he listened to the things the boy had to say, he felt strangely at peace with himself, comfortably freed from the tacit anxieties that seemed to haunt him constantly and endlessly nowadays. He was no longer caged in a steamy, sex-reeking bar, with his hands busied with the next lemon slice he had to cut, he was wherever Toushiro wanted them to be, and it felt good. Better than it should be, considering Gin was engaged and to be married in just a few months.
In contrast to what it might've looked like though, Hitsugaya was no stranger to teasing and irony. He had a way to have fun, this boy, springing sarcastic remarks about the audacity of some of the clients, the low quality of the music and more often then not about how ludicrous of a boss Jay really was. When he wasn't deep into something, he had the peculiar habit of jumping from topic to topic like a schizophrenic, his odd views on life (Is there any actual proof, that I am, in fact going to grow old and die? I mean, really? Who can tell me right now and prove to me that I won't live forever?) and psychological theories about the human mind (Everything we do is out of pure egoism, you know? Even when you buy something for your lover, you do that because you feel the absolutely selfish need to get them a present. When someone dies, you cry because you are sad for that fact that you won't be able to use that person anymore for you own reasons. Simple.) always entertaining Ichimaru beyond belief.
He didn't agree with half the shit Toushiro rambled about, but that wasn't important at all. What mattered was that even as the teen absently produced yet another story, yet another thought from the depths of his bottomless imagination, those were not the ear-splitting, exaggerated grumblings and pouts that the girls had the habit to pour on the barman. Hitsugaya was sensible, even when he was talking crazy, and the conviction with which he spoke was so deep, so strong, that if he truly wanted to, he could probably alter the outlooks of a king.
At times, Gin would slump tiredly at one of the stools during the more empty hours and just watch silently as his little companion finished off the last few glasses, his soft, strangely alluring voice matting the world around them like a giant, wet paintbrush. Ichimaru was growing addicted to the sound of it, and far more often than not his gaze would sweep brazenly along the exposed white forearms, the heavy, exhaustion-drooping lashes, the mildly etched jaw-line as he took in what he soon realized was his only true pleasure at the end of his day. Toushiro was a survivor, the fox fathomed with a certain amount of irony, a survivor who was doing what he could to keep existing and who wasn't wasting his breath to grouse, simply because he knew there were much more pleasant things to waste your breath on. Yet, despite the initial belief that everybody at the bar had shared upon meeting Hitsugaya for the first time, he was certainly not the type to endured whatever was dropped on his shoulder without a word of protest. No. Toushiro definitely had a tongue – a rather sharp one for that matter, especially when someone was trying to make fun of him – and everybody learned that mere days after the boy took up the job…
The first time that Toushiro actually showed that side of himself had been when one of the clients had, through his inebriated, scotch-induced haze, called him a fag who 'wants my dick shoved up that scrawny ass'. The boy had then lifted his eyes from where he had been wiping a table clean and said that even if he was homosexual, which he definitely wasn't, having said dick shoved up his ass wouldn't be a very impressive experience, since, from what he gathered from the girls, the client didn't have much to boast about.
That comment had actually shut the man up quite easily, effectively chasing him out of the bar for good.
Looking back at the event, Gin had to admit that had it not been for Aiko, maybe the story would've been forgotten even faster than the way the man had stormed out of the club. No one liked that client – not even the girls, who frequently benefited from his thick wallet on Saturday nights – but he was one of Aiko's regulars, and Aiko did not lose regulars to 'stuck-up midgets'. She didn't really complain about the incident to Jay - probably because she knew well enough it would be a waste of her nerves to even try engaging him in such mind-troubling conversation – but took it upon herself to make the boy's life as hard as she could after that night.
She shoved her nose in everything he did, fishing out information about him that would put him at the tip of her fingers, and in the meantime, engaged herself in impressive verbal spars with the kid. The scenes the two of them were making were definitely something to behold, even if they never really reached to a result of any sort. They usually happened before Aiko's shift began, right after she had dressed up and put some make up on, and the only reason Ichimaru didn't interfere to shut the blond chick's mouth, was because Toushiro did such an good job at ridiculing her himself, half the time without her even realizing what he sure knew how to have an argument with someone – he always made it seem as though he wasn't paying the slightest attention to what the other person was saying, usually distractedly cleaning something while the stripper blurted badly thought-over mockery after badly thought-over mockery onto his head – and that habit of his just seemed to frustrate the girl further. So much so, actually, that after just two weeks of going through the same pointless scenario of trying to humiliate Hitsugaya by 'outsmarting' him, she just moved on to viciously seeking dirt on him once again.
Gin had to resist groaning out load every time he thought about that one. Of course, all of them had their unpleasant stories, their rather oppressing relations about how they had ended up working in the night club, scrambling for every coin and paper bill they could find, just to tuck it away safely in the depths of their clothes for a Future that would never come. Some of the girls had run off from abusive family, others from possessive boyfriends, a couple had even had affairs with married men of too great of importance and that had ended up ruining them for life. Ichimaru himself didn't have much to tell, it had just been lots and lots of bad luck for him. And an alcohol and gambling addicted father who had deceased not so long ago. No higher education, and no friends, in combination with lots of debts left after the parent's death – those were the factors that had got him here and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. Hitsugaya, he fathomed, had probably gone through a similar scenario.
He was wrong.
"I love Mondays." Aiko announced dramatically as she slumped on one of the stools along with a few other girls, humming a little song under her breath. Before her Ichimaru lifted his gaze from where he was drying up a glass and glanced up at the clock above his head. It was barely 1.30am but like it usually happened at this time of the week, 'Nocturnal' was as empty as it could get. "Gin, sweetheart, do you think you could make me a Margarita?"
"Sure, as long as ya pay fo' it." the man said airily, repeating the same line he always used on Aiko since he knew well enough that otherwise she'd pretend that she hadn't known that cocktails didn't come free. Letting a small pout form on her lips, she slowly turned her head to the side, her green, cat-like eyes falling on the small figure that had curled behind one of the columns, head between his knees and posture slack in a way that obviously hinted that the person was sleeping.
"Hey, kid! Kid!" she shouted and before her Ichimaru couldn't help the small frown that formed on his forehead. Placing the already dry glass to the side, he leaned his forearm against the counter and hissed right in the stripper's face.
"Fuckin' let 'im sleep, the hell ya want with 'im now?"
"You are encouraging sleeping on the workplace, now, Gin?" she spat back, undisturbed, heavy lashes trembling prettily as she withheld his gaze with surprising ease. There was a smile on her face that seemed a bit different that the usual, cold-hearted purse that her pink, glossy lips formed. Instead, her smirk was smug, knowing, and even if Aiko wasn't too bright when it came to most things, she made it up by being incredibly bitchy, and for once Ichimaru wasn't completely sure if he should try and put her in her place or just wait to see what she had up her sleeve.
"Toushiro!" she yelled, this time making the boy lift his gaze to glare at her from underneath drooping pale eyelids. "Ah, there you are, sleepy head, I need you to get one of those menus and tell me the price of a Margarita." With that she nodded towards the small table just a few feet away from the white-haired teen, on top of which a stack of said menus could be seen. Before the girl, Ichimaru let out a tiny growl, disbelief simultaneously twisting both his and Toushiro's features.
"Get your fuckin' price yourself." Hitsugaya snapped gruffly the same moment Gin told her he knew how the stupid cocktail cost anyway. Aiko, however, just lifted her hand up regally to accomplish silence, the smile on her face stretching further as he crossed one long, milky leg over the other.
"Calm down, Ichimaru, I'm just checking something." She said, eyes still glued knowingly on the boy that was now looking up at her with cold, electric hatred in the pit of his teal orbs. "I want to see if he can do it."
At this point Ichimaru was honestly on the brink of his patience, his grin completely gone from his face as he withdrew from the bar counter, lest she did something else and tipped him over the edge of his composure. Twisting his mouth with distaste, he was just about to go back to his work and let Toushiro handle the absurd situation, when he noticed that the boy wasn't really saying anything. Pausing with his hand outstretched to take yet another wet glass and wipe the excessive moisture off it, the man turned around and threw the smaller male an expectant look.
"What is it, smarty pants, nothing good to say this time?" Aiko cooed slyly, feline eyes widening just a bit a she continued staring at the teen on the floor. With a certain level of incredulousness, Ichimaru watched Hitsugaya's face adopt an unfamiliar, restless expression, palms sliding to his knees as he took in a couple of deep breaths.
"Can't you just not bother me with your wonderful persona at least for one day?" he inquired bitterly, but the sarcasm he had tried so hard to pour into his retort was weak, wilting away under the force of the apprehension that had suddenly landed on his chest. Behind the counter Gin stood still, brows furrowed in a bewildered scowl as he tried to fathom what was happening. He could see Toushiro's teal irises shifting a little back and forth between him and Aiko, and he could literally feel the deep, corroding sort of uneasiness that had combined horrendously with something that painfully resembled shame, and the sight startled him far more than what he had expected.
"Ah." Aiko nodded, delight illuminating her face the way only somebody else's misery could and she leaned back in the stool, just barely keeping the thing from loosing its balance "I thought maybe I was wrong to assume it, but after watching you stare at a box label for five minutes and mouthing the letters, it just hit me…"
At this point Toushiro was pushing himself on his feet, a strange sort of shine glowing in his eyes, and he shook his head, arms wrapping around his middle as he watched the woman before him intently. Imploringly.
"Don't do this." He said quietly, barely uttering the words at all and the grin on Aiko's face just grew wider, triumph visible in her whole posture as she straightened her back and glanced at Ichimaru benevolently. For one very tempting moment the man felt the need to hit her, inflict some sort of damage to her body, but he knew he'd never do it. Instead, he was drawn once again to the desperation that had settled visibly on the boy's face, Hitsugaya's whole body now virtually shrinking as he tried again, mouth his Don't. to the woman that seemed to draw her greatest satisfaction from exactly these sort of displays. Licking her plump lips attractively, Aiko adopted a concocted sort of hesitant expression, before shrugging carelessly and announcing as loud as she could without actually shouting.
"He can't read."
Toushiro visibly flinched as the words were let out in the open and under the spiky noise that was the stripper' gloating chuckle, he screwed his eyes shut, a strange, chocking sound of his own escaping his lips as something crumbled almost palpably around him. A wall of defense, a mask maybe, a fortress that had kept him safe and sound away from the devastating jeers that the revelations of such presumably minor issues brought. Opening his eyes and letting his lips part as if he was about to say something, Hitsugaya halted, catching Gin's look, and his shoulders slumped. Pressing his mouth in a thin line as if he was trying to bear something physically painful, he shook his head yet again and ducked through the nearest door.
Which just so happened to be the back entrance.
Toushiro was pressing his palm against his mouth so hard, he could hardly breathe as he exited the club from the back. Stumbling his way down the few steps, he barely had the strength to round the corner of the building before he was slumping against the brick wall, back pressed into the cold stone as he tried to get some sort of control over the breathless sobs that were clenching his lungs in painful spasms. Placing his other hand over the first one, he tried to strangle the sounds, eyes watering pathetically as the humiliation burned a veritable hell down his body. God, he was so stupid! Thinking that for once he could get away without people ending up thinking that he was a retard. He wasn't retarded! Fuck, sometimes he wished he was, because maybe if that had been the case, he wouldn't have been able to understand how degrading, how laughable it was to read with the speed of an eight-year old. Knowing that it wasn't his fault didn't make it more bearable, it just aggravated the acid feeling of helplessness that was always resting in the pit of his stomach.
He sank to his knees, shoulders shaking uncontrollably and tried to think, think about what he was going to do now. His mind had gone completely blank, problems, rather than their solutions swarming behind his eyes along with the image of Ichimaru's expression when Aiko had blurted that one single sentence. Damn it…
"Pet?" the word sounded so strange, like a whisper underwater, and maybe if it hadn't been for the hand that reached to touch his shoulder, Hitsugaya never would've noticed. Flinching away from the approaching fingers like they might, in some way, burn holes through his skin, the boy turned to look though bleary eyes at the man who had crouched curiously beside him. The question in the fox's voice, the hint of disbelief, it was all Toushiro really needed to know what Gin now thought about him… and the idea hurt more than he had imagined.
Swallowing a small tiny whimper, the boy tried to scramble away from the bartender some more, but Ichimaru's hands had wrapped around his wrists before he could even make a move to pull back, those long slender fingers tugging Toushiro's palms away from his mouth. There was no trace of the usual smile on Gin's face, no amusement or irony and through his veil of uncertainty, the boy felt miles away from this person.
"Fuck you, okay? I don't care what you think, it's not my fault!" Hitsugaya spat, not sure exactly who he was directing those insults at. "You think I wouldn't try doing something about it if I could? You think that if I didn't have a case of dyslexia this bad, I would work in a place like this, cleaning floors and enduring the mockery of a fuckin stripper?. They-" he paused, a strangled sob escaping his lips as his features twisted painfully. His hands, above the thin wrists that Gin held so tightly, curled into weak fists and he trembled violently all over. "They move. The letters. They move around, changing places, and I can't- can't do it. I'm not retarded, I just-, I try so hard, but I-..." he shook his head desperately, the need for understanding saturating like a thunder cloud around him and he wished, he wished so much that Ichimaru would just say something.
Instead, he felt the man shift a little, the larger body adjusting itself against the wall in a similar position to Toushiro's and then a long spindly arm draped across the boy's thin shoulders.
"'s okay. Let it all out." Gin whispered comfortingly, pulling the other male against his chest as Hitsugaya struggled with the violent sobs that quaked his body. "Let it out."
"I feel so p-pathetic, you know…" Toushiro gasped, the flood of anguish suddenly too much to handle now that the dam had cracked. "It doesn't matter what else I can do, if you can't read… That's it. That's it for you." he swallowed with difficulty and closed his eyes for a moment, weariness seeping from every cell of his body as he did so "After finishing school I got into this university- To study for an actor. I got accepted and everything, and it was all okay at first. They said I had a great talent, that I could make it through and everything…" a tiny, dry laughter chocked its way out of his lungs as he slumped further against the man's chest. "And then the assignment started to come and I was always taking forever, for everything. I couldn't read and memorize the scripts in time, handed in papers with absolutely horrible spelling, and even though the professors were supposed to be understanding, after awhile- "even the bitter smile dropped off Toushiro's face now as he shrugged forlornly "After awhile you could just see they didn't want to care anymore. They started giving me hell, telling me that I should just do something about it. Like I didn't try… Like I didn't spend hours every night, trying-…Fuck! It doesn't matter. I dropped out. Couldn't take it anymore."
A moment of silence hung between them, the sudden viciousness that had flashed in the boy's last words still vibrating angrily in the air. Ichimaru's gaze lifted up as he leaned his head back against the brick wall, processing the information.
"Ya shouldn' have done tha'." Gin whispered finally, a hint of rueful reproach flickering in his voice, and beside him Toushiro just shrugged again, resignedly. He didn't think the lump in his throat could possibly grow any bigger even if the disappointment in the man's tone did hurt him just a little further.
"Doesn't matter anymore." He repeated softly, the few tears that he had shed now drying on his face. "I have more important things to worry about now. That part of my life is over."
Beside him Ichimaru let out a low chuckle, his hand raising from the boy's shoulder to play with a few strands of white hair.
"Ya really are a child, aren't ya?"
Toushiro's whole body stiffened at the comment and he drew in a sharp breath, a deep, overwhelming feeling freezing his insides as his next words rolled off his tongue before he could help himself.
"You think I'm really stupid, don't you?" it was so soft, so, so quiet, that the rustle of a leaf could've swallowed the sound. The night was surprisingly silent, however, and Gin did hear, his brows arching with slight disbelief as he looked down at the boy beside him. Toushiro's face had scrunched up in a pained grimace again, one that showed without a doubt how hard he was trying to stifle down the new, painful wave of sobs that was threatening to spill from his chest. Exhaling slowly through his nose, Ichimaru pushed himself off the wall, surprised how eagerly Hitsugaya tried to pull away the moment he felt a change in their positions. No you don't. Grabbing a firm hold of the younger one's chin, the fox forced the pale face up, a hint of annoyance marring his own expression when the pair of jade orbs refused to meet his gaze.
"Look at me." Gin ordered quietly, yet with undeniable firmness, and when the boy reluctantly obeyed, the fox chose to just watch him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he let his eyes open and the piercing red underneath shone brilliantly even in the dimmed street light. The gasp that tore from Toushiro's lips at the change didn't bother the man, and neither did the slender hand that lifted to wrap around the man's wrist where Ichimaru held the boy's chin. Instead, he leaned a little and enunciated very clearly, making sure that not a single word remained unheard for the teen. "I don't think you are stupid. I know you well enough to be absolutely positive that you are anything but. So never, ever, let anyone else tell you and make you believe otherwise. You hear me? You did a foolish, childish thing by dropping out, but nothing is over. Okay? Don't give up on yourself." He paused before adding a little bit more quietly. "It doesn't suit you."
And that was that.
Act Two: Made of Water
2.
"Sooo, it's gonna be a boring night?" Hitsugaya asked, hoisting himself on one of the stools deftly and spinning in it so he was propelling back against the counter on his elbows. On the other side of the flat marble barrier, Ichimaru let out a small chuckle and mimicked the boy's posture - only in the opposite direction - forearms resting on the smooth surface before him as he leaned his face next to the teen's ear.
"Restless?"
"A little." Toushiro admitted, pulling a face. "At least when I'm working, I don't get to think about stuff."
"Wha' stuff?"
Hitsugaya twisted his head a little, catching Gin's gaze with the corner of his eye. The closeness was a bit too much, a bit too palpable to remain unnoticed, but neither of them made a move to pull away. These sorts of situations had been becoming increasingly more frequent, especially after that night at the back of the club. It would be stupid to make a big deal out of them now.
"Stuff." He repeated vaguely and with a sense of finality before turning back to the scene in the center of the bar. He took in a deep, calming breath and slackened further against the counter, a drolly hum buzzing between his lips in a sort of mockery to the wonted provocative music that blasted around the whole bar. Toushiro had the awkward habit of crooning something when he was thoughtful - the bartender had noticed that quite some time ago – it was a fact that had amused the man for quite awhile until Hitsugaya had told him that it all went back to the time when he had only been able to memorized things by learning a song. Dyslexia, as the teen had explained briefly and very, very reluctantly, could hinder different things to a different extent. In the boy's case, it had stricken his reading abilities pretty hard. So hard actually, that despite everything that Gin had said that night at the back of the club, despite all the reassurances he had given to the kid, he wasn't sure... wasn't entirely certain if he could come up with a loophole for someone with issues this severe in that particular aspect. He couldn't possibly find a decent job for a person like that, no matter what other talents this person might have. Being able to read fast and efficiently was vital everywhere.
Hitsugaya shifted a little, the sliver of exposed skin on his collarbone widening just a bit, and instantly, Ichimaru's hands moved forward against the cold counter beneath him, itching to touch, craving to feel, as the memory of the white softness that was the boy's hair and the smoothness of the pale skin tingled on his tips of his fingers. Swiping his gaze across the smaller one's posture, the mindless curve of the slender neck and the overall sense of relaxation oozing from the teen, Gin found himself both unhealthily enticed by the view and growing once again progressively irritated with Toushiro's abundant amount of accessories and the layers of random clothes that he wore without any particular reason. True, today the boy had much less metal attached to him, but that didn't make the whole view less unfitting with the background of half-naked girls and the fact that Hitsugaya was actually cleaning floors.
Once again, Toushiro was wearing his favourite fingerless leather gloves, with the difference that today there were no chains around either of his wrists and no iron hanging from his black, slightly baggy trousers, either. He had a white button-up shirt on, one that had a couple of dark motives swirling around the lower rim and a black casual tie thrown very loosely around his neck. All that finished with a simple black vest with no buttons and no zipper that hung freely past his hips to the mid-thighs and presumably a pair of boots, even if Gin couldn't exactly see those from this angle.
"Your rich guy doesn't see too impressed." Toushiro stated and there certainly was a wicked smile in his voice, even if Ichimaru couldn't quite catch a glimpse of it. Redirecting his gaze to the center of the hall, Gin had to admit that the boy was right. Their 'special guest' didn't seem half into the show as Jay (who was hovering uneasily a few meters to the side) would have like him to be.
It was an 'exceptional' day today. Unlike most of the other Friday nights, 'Nocturnal' wasn't exactly… opened. The only people allowed to enter were the aforementioned 'rich guy' – a tall man over his 50s with a few thick grey wisps in his otherwise auburn hair – and his slightly younger blond friend. The first one was obviously some famous and pretty well-off person, because he had paid quite the sum to ensure confidentiality from Jay, eventually introducing himself as Mr. T to the rest of them. His wallet had been enough to close the front and back door, the windows and the eyes of everybody in the club for one whole night and truthfully, nobody minded in the slightest. Jay, the pathetic creep, had been more full of energy than Gin had ever seen the guy before - exulted beyond belief, while explaining to his employees how things were going to work out today. No one had protested to the sudden change of plans – not really - after all, less sweaty, greedy hands to deal with was always a plus and if the man was pleased after his experience at the bar, then there was a good chance that more wealthy people were going to pick the place for their… night escapades.
All in all, those conversations had been going on an hour ago. Now the men were here, the lights were dimmed and yeah, most of the bar crew now had nothing to do other than watch Aiko and a couple of more women go out of their ways to impress the millionaire… who, very unfortunately, just seemed to become more and more irritated by the performance.
Ichimaru's grin widened just a little.
He could already see Toushiro rubbing the failure in the blond stripper's nose next time she tried to bring up his dyslexia to the table.
"Gin?" the informal address immediately caught the man's attention and he looked back at the boy who was now spinning half way in the stool to face him, one hand finding its way to the back of his neck as he scratched the nape in the now quite familiar gesture of nervousness. The bartender couldn't see the teen's face very well as most of the illumination came from behind Toushiro's back, but a strange tingle in the pit of his stomach told him that he wasn't imagining the fine dust of pink that had spilled across the smaller one's pale cheekbones. "I was thinking-… Wondering, actually. If you would maybe- If you would like to sometime, ugh…" at this point Hitsugaya paused, chuckling awkwardly as he shot the other one a meaningful glance. The expression was so endearing, so innocent in its essence, that Gin suddenly felt queasy and unstable, like somebody was forcing him to swallow a pile of rocks. He could recognize the thrill this eventual invitation was already causing, and he hated himself for letting this affect him so strongly. Shaking his head frantically before the boy could continue, he lifted a frustrated hand to his face and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He could literally feel Toushiro shrinking before him at the reaction.
"Are you okay?" Hitsugaya inquired very softly, every bit of the gentle, nervous smile now gone from his face. Ichimaru took a deep breath, trying very hard not to grit his teeth in annoyance.
"'m engaged." The man enunciated firmly, the words feeling heavy and unpleasant against his tongue, much like the aftertaste of bile that always stuck to his mouth after he had been sick. He removed his hand from his face and met Toushiro's eyes, not surprised in the slightest to see them wide and shocked, a flicker of betrayal flashing in their depths.
"Wh- y-you are? You never said-" he breathed shakily and Gin just had to cut him off. Had to. He couldn't stand the sound of Hitsugaya's voice right now, he could even stand his present, he just wanted the boy gone.
"'s no big deal." Ichimaru cooed, surprising even himself by how easily he fit his mask of light irony slip back on. "Has ta be done."
"It has to be done?" Hitsugaya repeated, genuinely disbelieving, and Gin had to admit that he was a little taken aback by the burning look of disgust that had twisted the teen's features. There was real anger now, cold and hot, and hard, and thick, clouding with dark fog the usually serene surface of the two jade pools. Frowning slightly as he realized how not right it felt to know that such annoyance was directed at him, of all people, the fox decided to remain silent. He didn't really have anything to say - not this time he didn't. Toushiro was deservedly furious, probably deservedly disappointed, but that wasn't really the man's fault. Was it? "What the fuck?"
"'s how things are, pet." Ichimaru pulled back, hands resting against the inner edge of the plot as he tried to keep his tone light. "No gettin' outta 'ere otherwise."
That, apparently, was the wrong argument to point out.
Hitsugaya's eyes immediately narrowed, emerald flames flashing beneath the pale lids as he tried to comprehend, tried to swallow the fact that those words had truly just left the bartender's mouth.
"I thought you were the one who told me not to give up on myself. I thought you said nothing was over yet? You can't shove that shit in other people's faces if you don't fucking believe it yourself! "Toushiro gritted out icily and the man tried not to growl. Fantastic. The boy just had to go there.
"Wha' did ya expect?" Ichimaru asked glumly, hands darting across the empty lower part of the counter in search for something to engaged themselves in. He didn't want to have this conversation and he most definitely didn't want to look at Hitsugaya right now, the boy was pushing him. And so help him god, Gin did not have much patience. "How do ya plan ta leave this place? Find a betta' life? Ya are so fuckin' naïve sometimes, this ain't no fairy tale an' things won' jus' magically turn out right if ya find yer price charming, don't ya get it?"
"Ah, that's right." Toushiro spat acidly, voice barely above a whisper as a tinge of understanding bubbled from his voice, mixed with way too much anger to be anywhere near bearable. "She's rich then, real rich, is that it?"
"Gotta do wha' I gotta do. If a few compliments and good looks promise to do the trick, why the fuck not?"
"Wow, Gin." The boy breathed bitterly, lips pursing together for a moment as he nodded to himself a few times like one might to persuade himself that something unfathomable was the way it was. His eyes lifted upwards, meeting Ichimaru's firmly and he added lowly, the accusation in the whisper so strong, so deep it almost felt like a punch in the gut: "I didn't take you for someone who's willing to sell himself for a few bucks."
And that, Gin decided, was it.
Slamming his hand down flat against the counter, the man leaned over it, very closely to the teen's face. The purpose of the gesture was marginally different from the one from earlier on, but he couldn't give a fuck about it. Right now he felt like someone had just stepped repeatedly on his toes and the detail that that someone just so happened to be a mere kid only added up to the desire to give the boy a piece of his mind. Once and for all.
"Look, pet, this ain't no game, okay? 's real life. An' ya kno' wha's in real life? Winners and losers, tha's what. I'm a loser and ya, my dear, are most definitely a loser, so we need one o' those blessed-by-god people from the otha' side ta pull us up. Ya might not be able ta find yerself one, but, fortunately, I did, an' 'm not planning ta let tha' chance slip jus' when it's in mah reach, all jus' fo'-"
"Fine, gods, okay, just stop!"
Ichimaru paused suddenly in his tirade, a foreign feeling of cold dread seeping into his system as he realized what he had just said. Before him Toushiro's eyes flashed with something he had never see in the boy before – thick, glass-like hatred, and hurt so strong, so intense, the man found himself pulling back, pulling away as far as he could from the teen. The boy was shaking a little – just a little – whether from misery or wrath, it was hard to tell – but the sight was incredibly hard to bear and the man had to take a couple of deep breaths in to quench the urge to take the things he had said back. He wanted to, he really did, with everything that he was he wished he could make things right, turn the other way around and take the road his everything was telling him to. But he couldn't. And better settle things properly sooner rather than later. The two had somehow already managed to sink in way too deep as it was.
"For someone this unworthy, right?" Hitsugaya choked out then, finishing the man's speech for him. "For the perspective of being with such a 'most definite loser'?"
"Pet-" he began, but managed to stop himself before he had said anything that could make things worse. He could see the expectation still flickering underneath the many, many layers of defeat, the dying, fey crust of hope… but he couldn't go there. No.
"Right." Toushiro whispered, more to himself than to anybody else. Gin gritted his teeth and let his hand drop on the counter between them. "Right… My bad. I was wrong about you."
Ichimaru forced himself to shrug nonchalantly - show the infamous indifference that he thought he had mastered so perfectly by now. It was probably quite a poor performance – one that made him cringe on the inside - but judging by the half-aware state in which the boy had suddenly found himself, Toushiro was just bound not to notice.
"Oh, no, please don't leave!" Jay's desperate cry cut through the club like the pained shriek of a dying baby animal and everybody's eyes were suddenly directed at their boss. Mr. T, looking quite disgruntled and dissatisfied, was standing on his feet, obviously preparing to leave. Gin's employer wouldn't have it that way. "There must be something that we can do to make you stay!"
Ichimaru had to admit, with all his meat-headed-ness, Jay had some idea about what was bad for this place and what wasn't. Even if he was obviously quite unaware how unattractive making a scene was going to look.
"I am a patient man, Mr. Jacobs." Mr T. stated with an even voice while Jay was frantically waving to someone to turn down the music. "But being here is like watching plastic mannequins from the other side of shop window."
"M-maybe Aiko wasn't to you liking, but some of the others-"
"I've seen all of your dancers." Mr. T cut him off sharply, gaze sliding across the bar irritably as he folded his coat over his forearm. "And let me tell you: they are trying so hard to stay indifferent to what they are doing, that I have the feeling tha-" the man paused, oblivious to the fact that Jay was still rambling nonsense, and stepped forward instead, gimlet eyes glued on the bar at the back. "What is this?"
Pausing abruptly mid-sentence, the boss quickly caught on what his client was staring at and his eyes widened.
"Who? Hitsugaya?" he choked out in disbelieve, eyes shifting between the auburn-haired man and the teen. "He cleans floors."
"Hitsugaya?" Mr. T repeated, catching the boy's confused gaze for a moment and smiling encouragingly at the smaller male. "Would you like to come closer, dear?"
"He ain't a dancer!" Ichimaru snapped from his place behind the bar, his gaze catching on the significant stiffening of Toushiro's muscles at the invitation. He quickly opened his mouth to continue, but Jay lifted his hand, abruptly cutting him off before gesturing to the white-haired lad to oblige.
Sliding off the stool quietly, Hitsugaya tried not to display too much reluctance as he slowly made his way to his boss, Mr. T already sitting down in his chair as he surveyed the boy with interest. Toushiro felt like he was on some sort of display, not only from this stranger, but from the whole bar crew overall, and he wasn't enjoying the attention one bit.
"It's okay, don't be shy." The client said, his tone soft and gentle as he offered his hand to the teen. There was warmth in his brown eyes, and surprising sincere tenderness, both of those emotions strong enough to pierce through Hitsugaya's hesitation even with the dozens of gazes now directed at the two of them. He was pretty sure had it been somebody else, the boy would've resisted pretty heavily, but there was something very mesmerizing about Mr. T.'s chocolate orbs, intellect maybe, wisdom… he wasn't sure. Fact was, before he knew what he was doing, Toushiro was swallowing his uneasiness and taking the man's hand, allowing to be pulled forward very, very gently.
"That's it…" Mr. T. mumbled softly, guiding the boy to stand before his chair. "This is completely different now, this truly is… beautiful."
Aiko's snort from somewhere far to their left was pretty loud, attracting almost everybody's attention. The client seemed completely disinterested by her reaction, though, choosing instead to slide a curious finger under Toushiro's chin and propel it up so he could take a closer look. The boy held his breath for a minute under the careful scrutiny, suddenly feeling completely exposed as the man let his eyes roamed all over his face before releasing an appreciative 'hmm'.
"Mr. Jacobs, may I ask you to dismiss the rest of the dancers, I have no interest in them," Mr. T. requested loudly, never once dropping his gaze off the teen before him. "Maybe the bartender, too."
"No." Hitsugaya said suddenly, surprising himself by how firm his voice sounded as he riveted his eyes on Gin coldly, almost challengingly, and added through clenched teeth. "He stays." And he's going to fucking watch.
"Very well." Mr. T. agreed with a small smile, not even sparing the strippers a glance as Jay ushered them out. "How old are you, sweetheart?"
"Old enough." Toushiro replied. He wasn't entirely sure where all the boldness was coming from, even if the burning gaze of the silver-haired barman gave him some idea, but he added without a second to hesitate: "I'm no dancer, sir. I don't know what you're expecting from me."
"I know that you're not a dancer." Mr. T agreed benevolently, placing his right hand on top of the left which still held Toushiro's small palm. "You don't look like one. But what are you then?"
"A cleaner boy."
"Oh, that's not right!" the man protested, his voice like liquid velvet as he tapped Hitsugaya's knuckles with a few clicks of his tongue. "Humour an old man, here, my child, I'm not planning to harm you. At my age people learn to admire true beauty, and you, my dear, are truly beautiful." He smiled, and once again, Toushiro found himself believing those words against everything else he had set his mind on. Lowering his eyelids for a moment, the boy nodded his head through a shaky exhale and replied.
"An actor, I guess. Used to… um, study to become one."
"Ah, that's lovely then." Mr. T uttered softly. "You are perfect."
"I don't understand."
"You do understand." The man objected with a small smile, staring right into Hitsugaya's eyes. "You know exactly what I need. Question is: can I persuade you to do it?"
"I can't dance."
"Yes, you can. Everybody can dance, and I'm sure you can make it even better if you really want to… You're an artist, are you not?" the way this man spoke, so very carefully, putting all the real decisions in Hitsugaya's hands, made the boy feel strangely peaceful. Pliable almost. It was a rather different kind of sensation, one that he had been missing since forever, and the fact let him faltering as he tried to formulate exactly what he could and couldn't do.
"I, um," Toushiro bit his lower lip and closed his eyes for a moment, refusing to have neither Jay's persistent, impatient expression, nor Gin's incinerating glare mess with his head right now. "I can't- I won't take off as much as they did." There was no point in setting up false hopes right now, because he definitely wasn't going to go as far as Aiko and the rest of the girls did. He wasn't ashamed of his body, far from it, but he wasn't comfortable displaying it to strangers, no matter how charming and understanding those strangers might be.
"That's fine." Mr. T immediately agreed, patting the small hand one last time before letting it drop. "I suppose you want some other type of music?"
Nodding a little, Toushiro turned to look at an annoyingly hopeful Jay:
"Play me something slow."
As his boss disappeared from sight, Toushiro briefly met Gin's gaze; he saw the slight, nearly unnoticeable shake of his head and almost smiled. Ichimaru didn't want him to do this. Good. Hitsugaya didn't want the man to be marrying for money as well, but he was a 'loser', was he not? And as such, he had no saying in any important matter. The umbrage, the inclination about how useless the boy really was, had hurt bad, worse than he had imagined it would, coming from the bartender… and it hurt even deeper, because it matched the boy's worst and most arcane fears with startling precision… It wasn't fair that Toushiro could not say it back, that he couldn't spat something equally painful in return to the one man who he thought cared. This whole argument, empty as it had been in its gist, had just made him feel even more helpless, more-… less than everybody else. A step below the world, miles away from normality.
Like it hadn't be horrible enough as it was.
Hitsugaya tried to keep himself from grimacing at the thought and made an effort to collect himself. The same way it was none of his business why Gin had got engaged, it was none of Gin's business what Toushiro decided to do and what he decided not to. Ichimaru could glare all he wanted now, thinking probably that he was oh so right to mess with the boy's decisions, tell him good from bad and correct from wrong, but it didn't fuckin work that way. Since Hitsugaya was apparently incapable enough to do any decent job, than maybe it was time to get over his so-called pride and try things that nobody else would. Perhaps that would finally feel like a deserving occupation. Perhaps then he would really know he had earned the dirt people threw at him all the time…
Grabbing a chair from the side, the boy quickly hoisted it on the podium, climbing easily after it. He could tell that Mr. T. wouldn't mind if he took his time with what he was doing, he needed to click into the mood and he wasn't even sure he could that. It's like a play, okay? Acting. Acting… Yes, acting the right role. Playing the needed face and the best possible character, that was the key factor here… At least the man had been right when he had said that Toushiro knew what he had to do. He did know. Mr. T. needed to feel like he was truly wanted, he needed to feel special, as if the dancer was performing solely and especially for him…
If he could just imagine that he wasn't doing it for a complete stranger, if he could just pretend that it was someone else watching him this intently…
He glanced briefly at the bartender as he stood to his full height on the narrow podium.
Maybe he needn't pretend after all.
Ichimaru was clenching his hands into fists so hard, his knuckles had turned chalky white. He wanted to go right there and pull that foolish kid off of that podium right this moment, and it was killing him to know he had no right to. If this was some sort of twisted revenge, if this was Toushiro's way to get back at him for what had just happened, it was working pretty damn well.
His eyes followed carefully as the boy walked idly down the narrow platform, his boots echoing gently around the club as he did so. The music was quite soft, soothing almost, a nearly lazy, sensual melody that was barely blossoming, barely developing at all with the time. Toushiro lifted his hands and twined his fingers through the short locks at the place where his hair bordered with the skin of his neck. He was looking upwards as he strode, staring up at something in the distance, through the roof and beyond, until his eyes drifted shut and he stopped, exhaling carefully through his nose. Then slowly, ever so slowly his hands moved downwards and trailed over the skin of his collarbone, exposed demurely where the first two buttons were left undone, before stopping at the third to linger there. Almost like through the veil of a dream, Hitsugaya's head fell forward and a few stray wisps landed messily around his forehead, ivory eyelids lifting idly to reveal blazing emerald the way it had never been shown before…
…Ichimaru's breathe hitched, a bone-wrecking shudder traveling down his spine as he saw the absolutely foreign look on the boy's face. It wasn't directed at him, no, and he wasn't sure if he was grateful or rather envious of that fact, because those innocent jade pools, usually so limpid, so clear, like a freshly shed teardrop, were now a dark, overwhelming colour, narrowed ever so slightly as they gazed right at the auburn-haired man. Toushiro's mouth twisted a little, forming a small inviting smirk and he stepped forward, popping one single button open. It's all for you, just for you, those eyes were saying, screaming, uttering, whispering, weeping, gasping, everything all at once… Suddenly, Hitsugaya was no longer the barely literate cleaner boy who worked like a slave for another paper bill at a second-quality stripper club, he wasn't an uncertain, full of doubts teenager with no future, he was a lover, a dream come true, he was the perfection in its purest embodiment and he could be anyone you wanted. Any name. Any voice. Any desire. His lower lip, caught erotically between his teeth now, spoke of submission and devotion as his fingers moved down, down, down, exposing more, more, more… When his shirt finally flew unbuttoned, that person, because that could not… it couldn't be Toushiro… took a few steps back until his back hit one of the poles, and he lifted his glove-clad hand then, wrapping his fingers around the metal right above his head. Blinking almost painfully slowly, he let his smile grow a bit, another invitation, another voiceless surrender, intense like a smouldering coal. He turned his head to the side and slid down, arching his back sinfully as he did so and the material of the shirt fell completely open by his sides. Gin felt like he might forget how to breathe some time soon, because, fuck it, this boy was ungodly gorgeous. Under the disguise of being small and skinny, and boyish, and-and scrawny, he was, in fact, extremely well-toned. Each muscle was softly defined, each curved dipping just enough, but not too much, eliminating every doubt that he might, in some way, be esthetically maimed because of his stature. A glimpse of something black caught the man's attention and he frowned, trying to make out what it was, but then Hitsugaya hoisted himself up and turned around, his back now facing the men behind him. Pulling at his tie with what appeared to be a hint of impatience, he slid it off his neck with one smooth movement and peaked over his shoulder at Mr. T. as if to seek confirmation that the man was still watching.
The poor man seemed to be clutching at his fucking chair, he wasn't going anywhere any time soon, what the fuck was Toushiro looking at?
Obviously satisfied, the boy went back to his work and pushed the shirt along with vest off his shoulder, letting them drop to the floor in a messy pile. His body went a little slack for a moment, nicely-shaped muscles rippling a bit under the skin of his back before he grasped the pole before him again, pressing his forehead against the thing for one single moment. Ichimaru wasn't sure if the pause was meant to be yet another tease or if it was some sort of way for the teen to take a brief break, to collect himself, but he didn't really have time to think about it as Hitsugaya moved down again, this time twisting his body backwards and forming a sharp, graceful arch that would've allowed him to look back at the people watching him had he not kept his eyes closed the whole time. The hint of black flashed again and for some reason Gin felt the insurmountable need to find what the hell that was, the desire just intensifying as Toushiro pulled himself away from the pole and walked to the chair he had left standing in the beginning of his stripping. With deliberate slowness, he lifted his foot on the innocent piece of furniture and let his fingers wander down the boot, pulling his conveniently baggy pants up enough to expose the whole shoe. Apparently, whatever it was that Ichimaru had seen, was on the boy's right side – the one that was now impossible to see – so he momentarily forgot about it, watching instead as Hitsugaya glanced at Mr. T., brows jolting up just a little before he was pulling the zipper of the boot down, pushing the sock underneath along with the help of his thumb. The usually so gravity-defying tuft of spikes seemed strangely limp today, as though intentionally left to hang that way, to drape around his face like an almost see-through curtain that he needed to push away from his eyes – a gesture that seemed stolen from a fuckin' wet dream.
"That's it… Exactly what I wanted." Mr. T. uttered breathlessly and Hitsugaya smiled brilliantly at him, shedding the other boot as well and walking to the edge of the podium – bare-footed, bare-chested and with only his trousers and gloves still on. Right across his ribcage, from the right side, written with elaborated, thick letters were tattooed three words:
Made of Water
"Help me down?" the boy purred, a tone, voice, sound that Gin didn't recognize. With his lashes lowered, lips curved in undeniable suggestion and hands resting on the now bare hipbones, the teen was temptation in its purest, most disastrous from.
Ichimaru almost flinched when the man got on his feet and put his hands on the boy's waist, lifting him up shortly, before placing him on the ground. Within seconds, Toushiro was pushing the client back in the chair, straddling him and placing his arms around his neck for what was probably going to be a private lap-dance. For one split second the strange, foreign look was gone from the teen's face and he looked straight at the bartender, no smile covering up for the hurt that oozed beneath. Then he turned back towards the man before him and leaned down, whispering something in his ear. Mr. T. immediately nodded, gesturing something to Jay.
Five minutes later Ichimaru was ushered out of the room.
"'can't believe ya did that." The fox hissed, watching from a distance the still half-naked, but now boot-clad Toushiro, sprawled in one of the couches in the 'private nooks', flipping through a thick-looking pile of dollars.
"I didn't even take my trousers off." Hitsugaya replied coldly, not even looking at the man. "I bet you do when you fuck her, no?"
"Tha's irrelevant goddamit!"
Hitsugaya turned to look at the man, expression stony and just a tad bit annoyed as his brows shot up with something like confusion. For the second time that night, Ichimaru realized just how good of an actor the boy could really be.
"Why are you so angry?" the teen asked softly. "I thought I was a 'most definite loser'?"
Gritting his teeth for a moment, Ichimaru turned around and was about to walk away when he heard the boy's voice again, still as flat as ever.
"Mr. T. said he'll be coming again. Jay told me if I want to keep this job, I'm gonna have to dance, too. Whenever someone, you know, shows interest."
"Say no."
"I already said yes." Toushiro argued with a tiny chuckle. "You set a good example, Gin. Everything to get out, right?"
Ichimaru decided that he could steal a bottle of whiskey from the bar's stock before heading home.
A/N: Leave me now nicey reviews!