Chapter I:
Aw!
It felt as though someone cracked his skull with the use of tire-iron, as Ichigo's upper body automatically springs forward, causing his head to hit the steering wheel. His vision blurred, and his whole face stung when another rapid knock from the passenger side nudges his wobbling head.
"Son of a... shit... yeah, yeah, I'm up, I'm up... god!"
He gently massaged his temple and blinked his brown eyes few times. When he thought was clear enough, he shot a glare towards the invader to his right, the one who created the rap. Ichigo saw a middle-aged woman with an average height, looking diligently with her long plaited black hair and large gray eyes, standing outside his car. He instantly softened his gaze as he recognized the non-offending woman was none other than his physics professor. Ah shit. Perplexed and somewhat hazed, Ichigo then lunged sideward, rolled down the window so that he could greet the professor as humane as he could.
The professor beamed her lips, teasing him lightly. "Seems you're early for tomorrow's class, Kurosaki-san." She flicked a glance towards the clock above the Men's dorm building across the parking lot. "Or was I mistaken."
In an impulse, Ichigo pushed the visor out of the way and gazed up through his window. Fuck! Twenty-five! - No! Twenty-four minutes to Nine. "Dammit, I'm late!"
"Guess not." She giggled and started to walk away. "Good day, Kurosaki-san," she said. "I hope you keep your time frame smart." And then she's gone.
Ichigo almost stumbled himself to the ground when he got out of his car and, without any hesitation, run towards the dormitory. The two personnel sitting behind the desk startled when he burst the front door, and then ignored their probing eyes as Ichigo's feet dragged him towards the elevator door. He had at least a few minutes or so to reach his time, peruse his notes to prepare himself for his exam scheduled today at exactly... shit Nine! But he can make it, he can make it! He knew he can make it. He can make it if there's...
Elevator Out of Order.
Oh now what!
There's no time. He had to run upstairs to reach the fourth floor.
Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. Damn it, he should have been awake by five to read his book, run his morning routine. Except the plan didn't favor him, that even brushing of his teeth escaped him. Thanks to me I'm nowhere near my bed, he growled inwardly, has backpain from sleeping in an upright position for six hours in his car, had stomach pains because skipping meal is not advisable for someone who has a peptic ulcer, and probably flunked the exam because his head, aside from aching, was empty.
Oh wait a minute, he seethed, this is not entirely his fault. He didn't choose counting stars in the parking lot last night. That's right - this' Renji's fault! Make that he'll probably endure his fucked-up day by thinking why he didn't put poison in Renji's coffee when he had a chance.
However, and to think it through, he himself was to blame for letting his friend don the tenacious act, let alone evasive ones, and buffering an argument beforehand that he didn't give a shit until now. Behind those famous wolfish grins of Renji's was the only sign he had to imply for a promising probability, but nevertheless if Renji had only reached the deal, Ichigo would never have to jolt his legs all the way up to his room while depicting how a baseball bat and a crowbar would do for his homicidal tendencies.
But Renji is his friend, was after he whacked his head off, and they've been together since they can remember. However, the incident last night made Ichigo a very, very angry guy. While eating their takeout dinner inside their shared room, a favor was put out for him by Renji, a favor that was usually repeated every Sunday night - by bringing a girl to their room. Ichigo, on his part, constantly agrees about the idea because any young man that overcomes puberty, and has a libido the size of their heads, who could refuse such an offer? However, things changed. For six months the Ichigo who used to be a watcher and a partaker, has turned into almost a Saint. Renji had to enjoy his thing alone for the reason the perverting days are over for Ichigo. And to prove a point, he'd seriously dated a girl named Orihime.
At exactly ten in the evening, Renji told Ichigo to leave for the evening and call him back by four in the morning. And since Ichi's home is a long way drive, he might as well stay in the parking lot. Orihime's apartment is a tempting option too - well, if not for her brother on guard, popping when least expected, Ichigo's probably singing happy tunes by now.
Another option is the room of Ikkaku Madarame and Yumichika Aysegawa, two doors down from theirs. But sadly, he can't. The two are lovers, so there's a borderline there. Doing the math, it's either witnessing Renji's ragging breath while boning a girl or two guys fencing fleshy swords, Ichigo settled to sleep in his car just makes things a lot easier for him.
Besides, one night is not that bad...
Well, except for this very day, that is.
Because, and as Ichigo could recall, Renji promised to call him about four hours ago.
"Fucking dumbass," he muttered as he dashed through the now crowded hall. And what makes his day any better than seeing Ikkaku grinning like a simpleton from one corner of his eye, standing at the threshold of their occupied room, ready to laugh at him once he made an eye contact. To start, common sense is more applicable than humor when someone is raging and about to burst in nanoseconds. But seeing those grin makes it hard to believe Ichigo will earn sympathy from one of the jackass' of their group. How many forewarning glares he produced in a split second Ichigo had lost count. The more he grimaced, the wider the grinning the other made. "Cork it, Cueball" and middle finger in the air to make it accurate were his and only alternative. However, for the likes of Madarame, Cueball would only roar with laughter if he does that.
"Please, not now," Ichigo murmured, or rather prayed. It wasn't his intention to be heard, because that would be humiliating for the likes of him. However, to his surprise Ikkaku was taken aback. It worked. Hmm that's odd, he thought, since when Ikkaku had learned to give mercy towards anything that moves?
He stepped forward, still wondering about the unusual behavior of his friend, and then banged the brown door in front of him, cursing to add more drama to the scene. He knew all eyes now on him, but the silent queries were shut down, since they're aware that when Ichigo Kurosaki look pissed he'll grab any fuckers who tempt to ask him why - only to be slammed into the nearest wall. Or better yet, use the head as a battering ram just to open the goddamned door. Numerous aliases of Renji twined with "open the fucking door" roared from his exasperating throat, while Ikkaku gave wave of a hand, or a shrugged to every flinching student near their proximity. Good thing Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends have a reputation to precede them, within or outside the campus. Brawls with brains - if that was the word, which mostly ends in a fight, or worse, starters, resulting to a short reunion at the Faculty by the end of the day. However, how defiant or brash they are, indeed they have their own popularity to account for.
Like for instance, the mischievous Ikkaku Madarame, aside from being a kendō varsity, is pursuing Law (difficult to believe, but yeah). The short-tempered and impulsive Carrothead - though had a hard time maintaining his scholastic grades because of his uptight demeanor - was an excellent Med student. Yumi, apart from being well-known as an extremely vain, boastful, flamboyant brunette and a mockery of all - Ikkaku's alter-ego when it comes to rudeness, but with style - is an Advertising major. And lastly, the infamous Renji Abarai, the charmer, the six-foot-two-tattooed-marked walking sex with legs is an Architectural student and known as the best friend of Ichigo Kurosaki.
Best friend, huh? Ichigo thought grimly. Let's see about that.
The knock turned into a rapid slam of a palm, seconds later, Ichigo's feet started to kick in. The noise made everyone peak outside their room, shook their heads and turn away. No one dares to stop him, not even the biggy-man standing next to the drinking fountain. And since it was probable that all things must come to an end, and this ridiculous commotion must come to its close, one door suddenly flew open from the opposite wall and out comes Yumi to enlighten Kurosaki's action. In three strides, he reached the scandalous young man and, without a preamble, smacked the fuming boy's head, causing Ikkaku to laugh finally.
Ichigo found his nose kissing the doorknob. He whipped back to express his irritants, but resisted, forcing himself to mute his anger at the brunette man. He could have punched him though, if he wasn't aware of Yumi's capability. Though his flamboyant friend has more feminine features like the rest of the girls in the campus, slim hips and charming face, Yumi's beautiful hands are not. Ichigo should be smarter than to argue with the non-morning person like Feathery-brow.
"I'm having a migraine, you idiot," Yumi snapped at him. "Can't you even knock without destroying the rest of the building?"
"If you're pissed, you do some thrashing too," is all Ichigo could mutter in return. His head spins from the pain burning the back of his skull. "Damn, Yumi. Do you have to do that?"
Ikkaku laughed. "Lucky for you he's already up."
"There's this one invention called keys, and you have one," Yumi said. "Unless you're a moron and dunno what it's for."
Ichigo groaned inwardly, flicked his eyes somewhere but Yumi. The look on his face can be easily read; he can't remember where he put it and shit, he couldn't even remember if he'd left his car keys inside his car.
"Well?" Yumi peered again, breaking the angry glance of Ichigo from the giggling crowds behind them. "Where is it?"
"I... I lost it."
"What?"
"I said I lost it!"
"Again?" Ikkaku said. "That's your third."
"I don't fucking care. I want to go to my room, and I want to go now!"
"Then why don't you use your fumbling head to knock it down?"
"Good idea, but can I use yours? Mine is little throbbing right now."
"Enough!" Yumi said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Least that's more reasonable than allowing humpy - boy here have all the fun... nevermind," he jerked his head towards the brown door when Ichigo mouthed the 'huh?' gesture. "Ikkaku, dear..."
"Yeah?"
Yumi stepped aside. "Would you do the honor? My nails are done."
Ikkaku grinned. He gets the picture. "Thought you never asked," he said, and after few stretches and some enchanting whatsoever, he lunged swiftly and kicked the door in full force, leaving only the hinges intact at the threshold. "There...that should do the trick."
"Whatta..." Ichigo gasped. "The fuck you did to my door!"
"Hey," Ikkaku pointed. "That, or your face, man."
Ichigo was about to smack his friend's head, but caught up with something, and all of them turned their heads at once when a faint voice sounded inside the room.
"Oh look," Yumi smiled. "Behold. Dickhead's awakening."
Ikkaku was the first one to move inside the room... and came out quickly right before Ichigo could. Scratching the back of his head, he said, "Are you sure this is your room?"
Ichigo blinked. "Huh?"
"Well...I think you better come inside."
Seconds later they did so, and all of them felt their jaw dropped.
The room was not that big, yet not that small. Ichigo's bed was on the left side, near the window, while Renji's near the bookshelf to his right. Aside from tumbled used clothes hanging here and there, all things much the same since he left last night, except...
Well, except the brunette girl sleeping on Renji's bed.
Yumi tugged Ichigo's sleeves. "Was she drugged?"
"I don't know."
"Was she dead?"
Ichigo raised a brow at Ikkaku. Although that was a joke, it wasn't near funny at all.
"You're the doctor, man, you tell me," Ikkaku objected.
"Are you sure we're in the right room?" Yumi asked, looking around. "Because I don't wanna see you guys at the faculty later on."
Ichigo thought a bit. Yes of course this is his room!
He roamed around, check the bathroom, check the closet, checked everything that needs to be checked, but found nothing.
"Where's Renji?"
Sprawling naked at the bed, Renji averted his gaze from the ceiling when he realized he was looking at it far too long, as if he was creating a diversion how to get rid of that stupid stain in the middle. The soft light from the morning sun peaking through the blinds was the next option his eyes landed upon, thinking how romantic it was to wake up in a room after that intimacy last night.
In between smiles and sighs, he watched the dancing daylight for a while before his left hand voluntarily rose by itself to hold his throbbing temple, and frowned instead as he saw the time on his wristwatch. Ichigo's hunting him right about... now.
He sat up, winced, and damn he felt like his skull cracking. The tequila last night kicked all the way up to his brain there's no way he could lift himself from the bed without making a sound. Hangover is a fucker. Which is why sleep was better. He rather stay here than listen to Carrot-head shouting around the corridor.
But he had enough resting, laziness combined with pleasurable memoirs kept him awake, and shortly after five minutes, he opened his eyes again and smiled once more. Last night was blast, he thought... well, hardly. If not for his intake of too much liquor he might as well be damned not to call his previous engagement a momentum of unfortunate events. Wow. Good thing his companion was compassionate enough not to slam the door to his face, leaving him flustered outside. Surprisingly, he was rewarded by an embrace instead of a push, followed by a passionate kiss that turned into wild till Renji felt his groin literally begs for more. And before either one of them could destroy the only remnants of the room, Renji proudly exposed his flaws over and over up to the pinnacle of his limits, proving there's no man in his grateful nature should be offended by the use of hands and mouth - and among other things - while exploring each and every contour of their bodies. Both of them knew the chances, the consequence, because when the sun rises, it had to end. The aftermath of sex will be the only thing they could rely on, and for claiming it again would take both of them more than deceiving.
The clock strikes nine. Renji switch into destructive mode.
Great. Had a wild sexapade last night, and yet he's so damn pissed about it.
He slowly pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor while restraining his own brain not to tell himself "Time's up". He glanced at the calendar hanging behind the door, though he was aware it was Monday today. He hate Mondays, the matter of fact. The day for another so-called masquerade of his. If Monday was a form of beginning for other people, a refreshing start from their fucked up weekend, for Renji, as a man living with bullshits and parody, was a deadline. He breathes the air with the same people who blindly see his true nature.
However, and though his head spins like a roulette wheel, plus the coming prediction of the day adds up to his irritated state, his brain cell began to cope on something. The sudden fraction of consequence made his lips grin into wide. No matter what cost this mess might done to him, he doesn't care about it anymore. All he cared for now was the sleeping form beside him, the owner of the beautiful body that poisoned his inner core last night.
Strange. It's not love he's enduring, but why he's so extremely excited about it, despite the fact that the liaison itself was forbidden to begin with.
What was the name of the person sleeping soundlessly on the other side of the bed, Renji has no plans of exposing it. To think of it, the name wasn't the problem at all. In fact the big dilemma Renji has to deal with would be the description.
He shook his head and chuckled softly, noting the peculiarity of his situation. Six weeks ago he'd finally decided to throw his falsehood and started seeing someone seriously. It's not that he doesn't want to tell Ichigo, Yumi, and Ikkaku what was going on inside his formidable mind, but the fact his crucial disposition and his new found liberty might create confusion among his friends, and now he wondered how can he explain this to them once his skeleton broke loose from the closet, that the change of his preference was too sudden, that his sleepwalking-thing he used to reason a week ago is not an illness he must favour to cure after Ichigo saw him sleeping on the other room, possessing a man's bed, wearing nothing but a small towel wrapped around his waist... and that picking up girls every week was just a hoax, a form of deceit just to hide his new agenda.
For a guy who hides his true identity, a person who can't find happiness - though he's killing himself trying, is running out of excuses. Heck, even his previous excuses were all lame and he can't understand why they all fall for that.
But then again...
"Yup. They're going to crucify me."
He carefully slipped out from the snaking arms of his lover who caught him a while ago. If his calculations were correct, Ichigo is probably asking the girl some stupid question right now.
"Hey," he whispered, urging his partner to wake up by kissing the smooth shoulder. "I have to go."
A soft chuckle answered him back, eyes still closed.
"Ichigo's going to kill me."
"What idiocy you have in mind right now?" said in a husky voice while face burying on the crook of Renji's neck.
Renji smiled and kissed the shoulder second time. "Sleepwalking?"
"Again?"
"They'll believe me. Besides..." he chuckled. "I'm not that cured yet."
"Riiiight."
The other stood up after giving Renji a chaste kiss to the forehead, and then walked across the room to grab something to wear.
While fighting his inner desire not to pound that ass again as he watched the other dressed, Renji said, "I have a great time last night."
A sincerest smile flew back. "Same here," and then pulled the hem of the shirt through his head. Renji did the same after finding his own rested against the headboard. They decided, too, to eat breakfast before one of them could slip out the room without someone noticing.
"Shuu?"
Joy-tinted eyes of Shuuhei Hisagi glanced up from the book he's been reading, spoon halfway across his mouth. "Hm?"
"I think..." Renji wanted to say something...something that involves the two of them. "I think..."
Then he saw a flicker of hesitation on the other side. Renji waved it off and smiled slightly. He understood. They're not ready yet.
Nevermind.
Few minutes later at the fire exit, Renji found himself hanging ridiculously like a monkey when Shuuhei's senior buddies knocked at the front door.
Wearing nothing but his sleek underpants Renji concealed, docked and crawled towards his own room, praying no one would see him like a thief escaping from the scene in daylight—or ask him if someone did, let alone one of his friends.
He finally reached his room, slid the window up and carefully squeezed his long body from the gap.
No one did notice him, and that was the first triumph of his day.
Yet.
"I never knew someone would be sane enough to polish your knob after soiling in somebody's peephole."
Oh shit. Renji turned slowly and saw Ichigo glaring back at him, sitting in the chair, fronting the window.
"What are you doing here?"
"I live here."
Renji winced. Stupid question. "I thought you had an exam..." he glanced at his watch "... which started half an hour ago... and what happened to the door?"
Ichigo ignored the last note. "I send the girl to the clinic. She's okay, if you must know." He grabbed his bag and walked towards the door.
"Hey man, I'm sorry."
"Just shut up, Renji," Ichigo snapped back and left the room.