(Tia POV)

It burns.

That's the last thing I remember thinking before I blacked out last night. That, and the feeling of something fizzing in the back of my throat. Honestly, I don't know why, but I can't remember anything past the third shot of vodka I slammed back somewhere between ACDC's "Have A Drink On Me," and The Beastie Boys "Fight For Your Right To Party". My head pounds it's own beat as I fight to sit up without heaving. I dry heave once, then cough and bite back the feeling of bile. The room twists as I manage to bring myself to an upright position, and I clutch my head in pain.

When the world stops spinning, I stop and manage to take stock of my surroundings. My clothes, though messy and disheveled, seem to be in order. My school uniform, which consists of a dress shirt, skirt, black socks and tie, are rather messy, as if I put them on in a hurry... or drunkenly... I do a quick breath test; it doesn't smell too bad, but I can smell something else besides vodka on my breath...

I'm in my own bed, which means I was either carried in here or collapsed on my own. And, judging by the condition of my room, with all the empty beer cans and the Thai takeout boxes strewn across my floor, it's painfully obvious that nobody bothered to stick around to clean up.

I sigh. Popularity queen or not, in my own house, my status at Karakura High means nothing. Sliding my legs over the side of my bed, I focus on standing without falling on my face.

Three hours later I knock back three anti-nausea pills and a pair of Advil, then collapse on my now-clean couch. After half an hour puking my guts out into the toilet, my mouth tastes like, well, vomit. I pull my phone out and check the time; 4:19. No texts, no mail. Strange...

I sigh. 'They're probably sleeping off the party,' I tell myself. 'As should I...' Placing my phone on the stand beside me, I pull my knees to my chest, rest my head on the back cushion, and allow myself to drift off into temporary oblivion.

(Ichigo POV)

"We need to do it again."

"What?" I ask. "What the hell do you mean, do it again? That last set was almost perfect!"

"Almost won't cut it in the Band Battle next weekend, Kurosaki." My on and off bassist/best friend, Rukia, says, exasperated. "If we want to win, we need to be perfect." Rukia turns to our drummer, a second year named Toshiro. "Hitsuguya, you need to be on time from now on. I don't care if you have ballet before our band practices, you need to be on time for every performance. Otherwise, don't bother coming. "

Toshiro blushes. "It's not ballet, Rukia. It's figure skating."

"And you!" Rukia turns on me, her eyes orbs of ice. "You, Ichigo Kurosaki, need to be on point with us. We can't keep restarting every time you keep messing up the lyrics!"

"You know what, Kuchiki?" I say. "Nobody is perfect, ok? Just because your older brother is the lead guitarist of Thousand Souls doesn't mean -" I stop abruptly, my phone buzzing in my pocket. "Hold that thought."

I pull my phone from my pocket: ONE NEW TEXT, THREE NEW PICTURE MESSAGES.

I'm about to unlock my phone when Rukia gasps. "No..."

"What?" I ask, pocketing my phone. " 'No' What?"

Rukia laughs at the same time Toshiro sputters and drops his phone on the concrete, cracking the screen through to the hardware. "Nobody's perfect, remember?" She says cryptically.

"What?" I ask again. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Rukia just grins insanely and laughs again. "Don't worry about it Kurosaki," she says. "Just... prepare for all out chaos at school on Monday, okay?" With that, she packs up her music and bass, then exits my garage.

I shake my head, then turn to Toshiro. "You need help packing your drums into your truck?"

Toshiro, still flabbergasted, shakes his head. "I'm good... I think.. " He looks down at his phone, cracked and discarded on the ground. "I need a new one..."

I sigh. "I'll get it fixed for you, okay Toshi?"

He shakes his head, his spiky white hair glinting in the fluorescents in my garage. "No, it's fine. I... I need a new one anyways."

I shrug. "Whatever. I'll see you later Hitsuguya."

"Later, Kurosaki."

With that, Toshiro packs up, his drums going into his truck before he drives away.

I sigh, then close up the garage, but not before checking my phone. It's a text from Sousuke Aizen, the head of the American Football team. I scowl, then hit delete without opening it. Anything from him is trouble.

Satisfied, I lock up and head to bed.

If only it were that easy.

My phone pings incessantly through the night, each five seconds a new text or picture message coming in faster than I can delete them. At six in the morning a call comes in, this time from Neliel Tu, the transfer student living with my friend Orihime. I answer it with a sigh.

"Neliel, please tell me you've got a good reason for calling me... My phone hasn't stopped blowing up since I went to bed at 10 last night."

"Please tell me you haven't seen it?" Nel blurts frantically. "Please please PLEASE tell me you haven't seen it?"

I shake my head. "Um... what? Nel, slow down. See what?"

"Omigosh omigosh omigosh! The video! The pictures! You mean you didn't get them?" Nel is audibly freaking, her normally bubbly words slamming together at a hundred miles an hour, mixed with an air of terror and shock. "Aizen-san sent them to everyone in the school! Even to the transfer students, like me and Cifer-sama."

I sigh, exhausted. "Nel, you aren't making any sense. What pictures, and what video?"

"It's Halibel-senpai! She's been... I don't know! But they... Kami, I don't know!"

My mind rushes back to the picture messages and the nonstop pinging of my phone. "Wait what? Halibel... The Queen of Karakura? Tia Halibel?"

"There's only one Halibel in Karakura, Ichi-chan!" Nel says, her voice shaking. "Just... if someone tries to show you a video or pictures, don't look! Halibel-senpai is... Just dont, okay?"

I yawn, nodding. "Alright, Nel. Now... Can I possibly get some sleep? School starts in two hours, and I haven't slept all night."

"Will do, Ichi-chan. See you at school!" With that Nel ends our call, my phone silencing for the first time in eight hours.

"Finally..." I mutter.

(TWO HOURS LATER)

I open my eyes with difficulty, sleep still tugging at my mind and body. My phone reads 8:03, and I dread what'll come in the door in the next minute.

"Five... four... three... two..."

"GOOD MORNING ICHIGO!"

My father flies through the door feet first, and it's all I can do to just grab and redirect his kick instead of beat the ever living hell out of him.

"Goddamn, dad! Don't you know how to wake somebody up normally?"

(Tia POV)

I wake slowly, my usual wake up call delayed for some reason. Blinking, I rub the sleep from my eyes and check my phone. No messages, again. Strange. Shrugging, I open my text and send a quick message to Mila-Rose.

Hey M-Rose, what happened last night?

No answer.

M-Rose?

Still nothing.

Mila-Rose, I know you're up. We always get up at this time.

Finally, the three dots appear at the bottom of my screen, letting me know she's typing something. Two minutes pass, then the dots stop. They start again, and ten seconds later a single word appears on my screen.

Whore.