A/N I'll be working to upload sooner for anyone who wants to read. I'm thinking maybe once a week. Flames are accepted and appreciated, complements will be noted, and contributions or ideas are greatly accepted. Questions will be answered.
Disclaimer: No characters in this are mine (yet!)
Warnings: Yaoi. Don't like don't read. OOC, some randomness, some (fucktons of) bad language, rated T currently.
Chapter One: INTERRUPTION! MECHANICAL BITCH'S MAGIC!
It's funny when you realize how a day can start acceptably and end terribly. Like when you get a night's perfect sleep but totally fucking forgot to study for one of your end of course tests, or when you're gay and are told to go watch a game for the varsity baseball team of your school because your best friend who is also gay wants to figure out what you like in a man's looks.
Yupp. Starts well and fucks itself in the end.
Just like any other day, I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock at about five. And again, just like any other day, I have to stop myself from beating the piss out of that stupid piece of machinery. It interrupted my beautiful dream that I can't fucking remember now-I swear, that shit was GORGEOUS-with that fucking irritating as hell BAMM BAMM BAMM BAMM, as if screaming "hey you! Yes you! Fucking dumbass! It's time to wake up you stupid shithead! Fuck your dream let's go to SCHOOL!" So after repeatedly banging my fist against the cool plastic top of that piece of mechanical fucking idiocy, I hopped in the shower and got ready for school, managing to walk into three walls and a door along the way.
I found myself on the bus next to the creepiest fucker I've ever met. Nnoitora Gilga. Seriously. He's like 7'4" and he's got this really gnarly black hair and a bloodred bandana that is probably dyed with the blood of the innocent. There's always this shit eating grin on his face that definitely reminds anyone who sees it of piano keys. Of course, I can't escape, and the weird fucker starts talking to me.
"Hey Ichi, baby," he says, flopping his greasy hair out of his face, "how's it going?"
"Do not. Call me. Baby. Ever again." I reply, hoping to god the pain and torment that comes from talking to him can end quickly.
He widens his grin. "That's not what your mother said last night!"
"Nice. Enjoying yourself? Me neither." At this point I just want the fucktard to shut the Christ up.
The bus stops and everyone disperses, and by everyone I mean the kids that don't smoke in the bathrooms or skip class. So all-say, about ten-of us filed our way into the building, up to our period 0 class. As I'm walking, the occasional person decides to try to trip me or call me names. What the fuck ever. No one fucking cares, honestly.
I manage to get up to room 401, Mr. Glouski's room. Being the asswipe that he is, Glouski's passed out on his desk in a puddle of saliva and cigarette butts, snoring and mumbling about the bitches everyone knows he's never gotten. The only other kid in class this early is Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and I'll go in depth with him in a sec.
He's the dude that, singlehandedly, with no help whatsoever, managed to contain all of the yaoi fangirls' hormones into one room, and yes I do understand the irony in said room being number sixty-nine. The girls and one or two boys formed a yaoi club, and dedicated themselves to finding the perfect boyfriend for Grimmjow. He knows I'm gay, and I know he's gay, but he doesn't like me, and in fact, I do believe that he likes to piss the living fuck out of me. Every class we have together, which is actually 5/8 periods, he intentionally sits directly next to me and cracks jokes or comments about me the whole motherfucking time.
It's like being stuck with a person who wants to make your daily everyday existence hell.
That's all fine and dandy, but to make it worse, he's admittedly very attractive. Very VERY attractive. Deep blue letterman jacket, white wife beater, grey torn jeans, and his tattoos and piercings make the whole thing click together. I'm fairly certain I don't have a crush on him or anything, but really, he is definitely attractive. When he moves you can see his muscles roll under his shirts, like waves in the ocean. Stop now Ichigo-break yourself from the demon's hold-the dickhole's trying to talk to you!
"Sup Berry." He says nonchalantly, because you know, not a single fucking thing on this planet could ever bother a 'god' such as he.
"Fuck yourself." I reply. Forgetting to hold my tongue is not the best of ideas, he's got a very sharp wit, and when he talks he leaves a sting.
"Already did this morning. But if you really want to watch, I suppose I could make it happen..." He trails off, punk-ass bitch smirk widening by the second.
I pointedly pull out a notebook and fumble through it, waiting for him to ask what I'm doing. I tear out a blank piece of paper and hand it to him.
"Have that. It's a page filled with the fucks I do not give."
He laughs, tossing his head back. "That's actually a halfway decent comeback. Mind if I use it? No? Okay, good."
The bell rings, and I just now notice that the rest of the class is already here. Oh well. Wouldn't care anyway.
Glouski apparently woke up, because when I look to the front of the room all I see is this wasted-looking, shitty excuse for a science teacher.
"Class. Today we begin our new unit, the reproductive system. Partner yourself with the person at your table and get out your notes." The dumbshit up front says.
After a bit of rummaging, I manage to find my science journal, and upon glancing at Grimmjow, find that he's forgotten his. Glouski begins talking.
"More specifically, we're learning about male anatomy." He says, literally turning and smirking at me and Grimmjow, apparently enjoying the pain I get from being this shithead's partner while learning about fucking erections.
I manage to blur out most of the day except for a few key incidents, for instance, when Grimmjow asks me for the answer to number seven and I tell him to fuck off, to which he asks me if I want to join, or when Renji reminded me in gym that I have to watch the baseball game today. That fucked my day even more, that little tidbit of information.
Another few class periods roll by, and I find myself at home, with a mere few minutes until I've got to head back to school for the game. I re-clothe myself-after all it's fucking 102 degrees-in shorts and a wife beater, plus my legit-as-fuck aviators that I can go nowhere without. In no time, my doorbell rings and Renji's here to pick me up.
I hop in his red Shelby and hope to god the awkward conversation doesn't start. Of course, with my luck, it does.
"So. Ichi. How much ya likin' Grimmjow?" He questions, playful smirk on his face.
"He don't like me, Renj. He talks shit about me way too much to come even close to liking me." I reply, slipping back into my normal speech pattern involving namely curses and slang.
"Actually, I heard tha girls gossipin', and apparently sometimes guys do that ta people they like cuz it helps keep the other person from knowing," he says, then hastily adds "but whatever hikes yer skirt, Ichi, if you don't like him I won't prod...much."
Okay. So maybe I do like him. A little. Or a lot. And maybe that dream I had this morning was about him and that's why it was so damn perfect until the mechanical bitch worked her magic and stole my happiness like she does daily. And maybe I like our conversations, maybe I like it when he calls me nicknames or comments on my hair. Maybe. Just maybe.
Too many emotions, and mine are currently trying to piss me off. "You know damn fucking well that I like him, so don't pretend you don't, Renji."
Renji just laughed. "You're going to love this baseball game, Ichi, I promise."