{Between Her And Indiana} A GrimmHime Fanfic {Chapter One}
You cannot bring back what is not there, save what cannot be saved, find what is beyond lost. If only this time… She could.
It was a smoky day in Indiana, the sun had just begun to set on the horizon and Grimmjow Jaggerjaques was raising a cigarette to pursed lips. Occasionally, when the sun sat so high in the sky like this, he'd sit out on the veranda to smoke, but for some reason, he couldn't bear to. The sofa seeming so much more appealing.
Beside him, a slinky, white, cross breed cat leapt up and onto his chest. Along the side of it's jaw ran a dark black patch, finishing just at the back of the jaw. "Heya, Pantera." He pet the slim creatures head and it meowed at him, great big gold and green eyes staring at him unflinchingly. "Come on, I'll go feed ya." He sat up, cigarette hanging out from between his lips.
The cat leapt off of his chest and trotted merrily into the kitchen. "Stupid bloody cat." He muttered under his breath, removing the cigarette and stubbing it out in the electric blue ash tray on the wooden counter beside the sofa. There was a loud impatient meow.
"'m coming ya bloody bastard! Stop being so freaking whiny!" he shouted at the animal and there was the loud banging of a metal pot hitting expensive stone tiles. "Shit!" He raced into the kitchen to see satan cat in all his glory sitting the spot where a formally normal shaped pot used to sit. "Fuckin' Satan cat." he muttered, walking to the fridge and opening it.
The cat gave a triumphant meow and leapt down with an almost inaudible thud. "Here." He cracked open a can of ridiculously expensive tuna and dumped it into a silver bowl on the floor. The cat looked up and mewed. "Oh, for gods sake!" he grabbed a sprig of mint off the plant sitting on the window and delicately placed it on the tuna.
The cat began to eat and Grimmjow muttered something about his cat being stupid and fat. The little animal spun around and clawed the back of his ankles. "You little bitch!" he snapped in surprise and leapt forward. "God, someone should have run you over by now."
The cat looked a little smug before resuming his eating. "Yeah, hate you too you little prissy bitch." He went out into the hall, picking up his mobile phone. Only one text, from a certain weirdo he referred to as the emocar.
He wasn't sure why he called him an emocar, or what an emocar was but Ulquiorra didn't like it, so it stuck. The message read rather tiredly. 'Hey, goin out 2 club liquid 2nite, wnt 2 cme?'
Grimmjow stared at the text, bewildered for a moment. His language skills stopped at English and some partial Japanese. '…Sure?' he responded, still a little confused. 'kool, c u at 6.' He responded and he stared at it again.
The unemotional, possibly the most volatile, sarcastic man to ever grace the earth used chatspeak, that not even Grimmjow could understand. The only person worse was Yami, and that was because he practically smashed the keyboard on his mobile with his fist.
Oh, what was the world coming to now a days?
"Insane." He muttered and flipped the phone closed, casually throwing it across the room and into a small basket sitting on the counter about six meters away. He flopped back onto the sofa and grabbed a the packet of American Spirit cigarettes. He pulled one out, put it to his lips and lit up with a lighter that he found in his pocket.
And there she was again.
An image of a beautiful woman, with big silvery eyes and lovely long orange-brown hair and skin like porcelain. "What are you doing in my brain, woman?" he murmured, his eyes still closed. "Why do you haunt me?" He could see the tears pouring down her face and the dirt smudged across her face. "Why can't you just stop crying!?" he demanded, eyes fluttering open, heart pounding in his chest.
She was always there, especially when he smoked, like it invoked some kind of memory in him. She was always crying and dirty. Her sleeves had been ripped off and for some reason; he wanted to dry her eyes. He wanted to do some kind of human act, to fix her.
But never would he meet her. He doubted she even existed. He probably saw her in some movie whose name he'd never remember or some billboard for an ad against something. But he was sure of one thing. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, even if, so it seemed, she was just a figment of his imagination.
Even if she'd never be his to touch.
He took a heavy drag on the cigarette, and tapped off a rather long end of ashes. Today was going to slow, he turned his head to look at the sun as it disappeared behind the skylines of boring coloured buildings, which at night, would light up and be the most beautiful things on the horizon. Incomparable to the stars and the moon.
He sat up. What time was it now? His cigarette hung out of his mouth and he made a ho-hum noise, stubbing out the remains, hardly having smoked it. Something seemed to be more off with him today then normal. Smoking wasn't appealing, only focusing on the disappearing sun. He stood up slowly and turned his attention to the cat walking out of the kitchen.
The animals sat up his feet and together, they walked onto the veranda and sat there, watching the sun as it dipped behind the tallest buildings, painting everything vermillion and slowly, melting to give way to the blackness of the night.
He wasn't sure how long he spent sitting out on that deck, but it was long enough for Pantera and him to fall asleep in the fading sun and cuddle up to each other. Such security between these two rarely happened, and he supposed he would appreciate it later.
There was a loud thud on the door that made Grimmjow jump about forty feet and made Pantera leap up, hissing and freaking out. "C-Coming!" he called. His blue haired was knotted and tangled, his dark grey shirt crumpled and his jeans were creased into oblivion. "Open the door!" cried a very familiar voice. "Coming! Jesus!" he raced to the door and it flung open, slamming into his face.
"Jesus Christ, if you'd just waited one god damn minute, I woulda opened the fucking door Nnoitora!" he barked at him, clutching a now bleeding nose. Nnoitora glanced down at him, Ulquiorra, Halilbel, Stark, who was trying to feel up the darling Halilbel, and Nel. Nnoitora scratched his chest boredly. "What the fuck were ya doin? Sleepin'!?" he growled grabbing his collar.
"Would you just shut the hell up!?" Grimmjow snapped and pulled his hands off. "Ya a fuckin' whiny little bitch." Nnoitora muttered. "Couldja hurry and dress!?" Grimmjow shot him a dirty look and walked off into his room.
His bed was still unmade, the sheets crumpled and screwed up into a ball, more signs of his bad nights sleep. He grabbed another pair of jeans and the first shirt he found. It was a dull blue grey colour and held to his slim body beautifully. "Quit yer bloody preenin'!" Nnoitora called from the lounge.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and grabbed a comb, running it through his hair, trying to remove some of the knots. He slid his feet into a pair of low top converse and headed for the door. "M' comin!" he snapped out. Quickly, Grimmjow hurried into the lounge room and began to usher them out before they drank all of his booze. "Yer, yer." Nnoitora muttered as he was pushed from the room.
After some difficulty, Grimmjow managed to get Nel to allow him to lock the door. Nel had seemed rather insistent on staying at his place and drinking all his beer, which he didn't want happening seeing as drunk Nel had a rather…. Pleasant habit of stripping when drunk.
Though, a drunken naked girl running around his house seemed sort of appealing, the club sounded better, a more colourful option for this evening.
He quickly closed his mouth and wiped away the drool. Nel poked his cheek. "Hey, I think Grimmy's having a heart attack." She giggled and he smacked her hand away. "Quiet." He muttered darkly, a little embarrassed about being caught mid-fantasy. Nelilel giggled and bounced off up the hall. He rolled his eyes and slowly, began to fall behind.
About half an hour of walking later and Nel's loud singing and skipping, Grimmjow was glad they'd reached the club. The walk had almost been tear jerking. If she'd have been throwing flowers, which he was sure she would have been if there were any around, he might have gone nuts and killed her, and everyone in a four mile vicinity.
Actually, they seemed like a pretty good idea. But he dismissed it immediately upon turning around, because, behind him stood, about two hundred meters back , stood everything he knew he'd ever want.
There stood the girl who had been haunting his night mares. The girl with orange hair and the most pure silver eyes.
A/N: Not a particularly long chapter, but it's the most I've pumped out in months. xDDD well, leave a review. This story is probably going to be about four chapters long, maybe a couple more or a couple less, depends on how far I decide to take it next chapter.
Okay, question, did that last line sound overtly sexual to you too, or was it just me? ;D
Also, I was inspired by Indiana by Meg & Dia.