OF DRINKS AND DRUNKS
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach (sadly).
Summary: Modern AU. GrimmIchi. After the death of Misaki, everything went downhill for Ichigo. Guilt took him and the agony consumed him. Drowning out his pains through alcohol, he lost his friends, his family and his life. Ichigo was at his worst. While passed out in an alley somewhere, a blue-haired stranger picks him up. Neither of them knowing that the simple meeting would soon change their lives. M for language and sex in future chapters.
Author's Note (Ramble): This is my first fanfiction like ever… This story was actually written by a previous author a long time ago but for some reason, he/she stopped continuing it. I REALLY REALLY REALLY loved the story and was pretty heartbroken when the story was removed. Soooooo, here I am! Trying desperately to follow on his/her steps.
Hope you enjoy! 333
Un-beta'ed
Chapter One: Lost
Umph. Shit.
Where the fuck am I? He lifted his head off the floor. Fuck, He felt like someone stomped my head into the ground. Damn. My head hurt. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to focus and understand his surroundings. His vision cleared and all he could see was brick walls and garbage bins. He tried to smell, but boy did he regret doing that. It smelled like feces, puke and everything single revolting known to man.
After a few seconds, he realised he was on the tarmac, lying face down next to a dumpster. Well, he'd woken up in worse places than this. He groaned, body numb as hell. His senses gradually regaining the more he tried to make conscious of himself. After a while, he tried to pick himself up off the rocky floor but that didn't go well. He couldn't feel his legs. Using his remaining arm strength, he pushed himself up enough to grab onto the dumpster and use it as leverage to pull himself up. As he tried to stand, his legs fell beneath him. Apparently his legs were still asleep. So, he went for second best.
He sat his ass down, legs spread out, leaning his body weight on the dumpster. He took in his surroundings and saw the view of a typical back alley. Garbage, dumpsters, cardboard boxes, rubbish, etcetera. He let go of his held breath and decided to breathe through his mouth afterwards. He could hear cars passing by and people walking past the alley. I bet no one can see me and if they could, they don't even give a shit. Typical Americans.
He leaned his head on the dumpster. Looking left and right, he tried to focus his eyes on the brick wall in front of him. There was a sticky feeling on his neck as he did that. He righted himself up and tried to reach and touch the stuff on his neck. That's when he noticed he was sitting in a puddle of brown garbage water seeping from the dumpster. He looked down. His whole body was on top of the pool. Great. Wow. He slumped. His hands on the floor in the garbage water. I don't care anymore.
He snorted.
If he were paid a penny for every single time he said that phrase, he would have been as rich as Bill fucking Gates. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the headache. His eyes easily losing focus and body extremely sweaty and sticky. Heh. He recognized this feeling all too well. It was almost second nature to him really. Must have been drinking into oblivion again. As far from what he could comprehend, he must have been drinking at some club until he passed out in an alley somewhere.
His head hurt. He couldn't feel his legs. He's sitting in a puddle of garbage water leaning on a dumpster. His throat dry, begging for more booze. Life is normal, really.
His body started to relax unconsciously. He tried to concentrate on keeping his mind conscious but couldn't. He must be passing out again. As his brain started to blank, he heard thumping of boots nearing him. He looked up but his vision already blurred. All he could make out was a colour.
Blue.
Next thing, Ichigo was out like a light.
Damn, I need a drink.
Ever felt like someone up there was dead-set on making your life miserable? Well, Ichigo did for almost every day for the last eight years of his life. He's just thinking about the events that happened in the last few years. It's a short train of thought he realised. He's accomplished nothing much.
He remembered faintly about smoking weed and drinking booze from countless bottles served in dingy bars. Though, there was the occasional meetings with his little sisters at the local diner. Now, those short memories were the only ones that were crystal clear. All the rest was fuzzy - basically endless drowning of pain in booze and drugs.
As his mind wandered back and forth, he tries to wind up his senses. He was expecting solid rough tar under him but now all Ichigo felt was a hard rubbery texture on his back and legs, and weirdly, a soft fluffy blob under his head. His mind tries to reel back to what he did before he left his consciousness but it came up blank.
Blue. Sky blue. Huh.
He opened his eyes, breaking open the thin crust that formed on the rim of his eyelashes. Man, Ichigo inwardly groaned at his aches. Squinting at the light on the ceiling, he looked over at his surroundings. Grey walls, white ceiling. The paint peeling of certain parts of the house. He wanted to compare with his family house but couldn't pick up any last memory of it.
Maybe it's too long since I went back home. Or thought about home in fact. Wait. Where am I?
Apparently, he was on some old, lumpy couch and all around he saw was some random home furniture. It was a blur as he couldn't fathom whose house he was in. He stood up immediately and regretting instantly when his back froze up and calves tightened painfully. He could feel his legs give up on him but he didn't feel himself touching the ground. He closed his eyes expecting the pain that was about to come but it didn't.
Opening his eyes and felt someone's solid hands grab his waist and back, holding him up and preventing his descent. The person was most probably a dude, Ichigo figured because of the hard and large grip he had on his body. Ichigo opened his eyes and felt the person slowly push him back to sit on the shit-brown couch. As Ichigo turned back around to sit on the couch comfortably he saw blue. Blue hair. Beryl blue eyes. All on an extremely handsome, Greek-like face. His eyes widened after seeing all the, well, blueness.
"Blue." the words left his mouth unconsciously. The said person scowled, well, even more since he was scowling before. The man's perfect lips looked so good even when doing so.
"What? Never seen blue hair before? You have no right to say anything weird about my colour since yours is fucking orange," the person said with a gruff voice.
His natural voice most probably is husky. In like a manly, rough, and low sort of way. And kind of sexy, lady-killer kind of way. His voice was pure unadulterated sin.
Ichigo realised he was just plain attracted to the man. Even after just meeting him for merely 3 minutes. Ichigo stood there, momentarily contemplating his sexuality but I mean, come on. Every single being would be attracted to this being. Male, female, cat, cow. All of it.
Just at that moment Ichigo felt something in his stomach bubbling up towards his throat. The man must have been psychic because he reached out his long hand for the trashcan next to the sofa and shoved Ichigo's head into it, effectively saving his house floor from projectile vomit. Ichigo didn't appreciate having his head thrusted in a trash can but even he didn't like barf on the floor.
Ichigo grabbed the trashcan from the man's grip and began hurling out the contents of his stomach. It was all liquid most probably the hard liquor and beers he had last night and the one before that. He saw the man walk away from his peripheral, and heard some cabinets open nearby. After spewing out the last bits of his stomach, he wiped his mouth with his arm. Not really caring if the remains stained the sleeve of his dark brown leather jacket. He sat back down and leaned back on the couch, putting the trashcan on the floor.
Ichigo frowned at the bad taste left in his mouth. He let his mind rest a little and tried to stand up. Keyword was 'tried'. Ignoring the insistent pain of his muscles; he forced his body up, grinning a little when he realised he managed to do so without falling. He turned to see the house fully. It was quite a decent sized living room with a hallway, leading to the bedroom and the toilet, and a kitchen at the other end. It was a small apartment so atypical of a bachelor. It was pretty banged up and most probably a few years old but it had the basic outline of a functional house. And there was the main door.
Ichigo walked to the main door nearby quietly trying to make his escape quite but failed miserably.
"You're leaving, huh? Don't let the door beat your ass on the way out." Ichigo saw the man lean on the entrance to the kitchen with a cigarette in his mouth.
Ichigo stared at the man for a while trying to comprehend what he had just said when his eyes started to wander down the man's body. Damn, he liked what he saw as he was appreciating the view but stopped halfway abruptly. No, snap out of it. You are not gay, at least I don't think so. This is not a good time to think about it!
He turned quickly to open the door awkwardly. Not wanting to stay in the presence of the attractive man too long, he neared the door.
As we walked down the hallway, passing by the other apartments. His mind wandered and was reminded of a scene almost 14 years ago.
14 years ago.
"Mama, mama, look, look! The man over there gave me a balloon!"
Ichigo waved the floating fluorescent bubble as he ran towards his mother.
His small hands gripped around the string attached to the balloon. He pulled the blue blob back and forth continuously. Laughing at how weirdly the balloon moved. Saying goodbye to her friends, Masaki turned to look down at him and patted him on his head. Her soft slender hand combing through his burnt-orange hair.
"Did you say thank you to the kind man?" she questioned him while trying to tame his unruly orange locks.
"Not really... I was scared so I just took the balloon and came here," he replied his eyes innocently staring at his mother.
"Ichigo, What did I say about courtesy? Always-"
"- Thank people even for the small things." He continued, repeating what his mother said.
Ichigo had always been a smart boy. He always took his mother's lessons, knowing how important they are in the future. He loved his mum.
"Okay, okay! I'll go thank the nice man. Will you follow me mama?" he replied.
She nodded and held his small palm in her hand. Her larger hand still so soft and tender even after those years. They both walked to the man hand- in-hand, Ichigo's other hand holding and tugging on the blue balloon.
Ichigo felt tears stream down his face. He missed her. So much it hurt. He stopped walking and rubbed his face with his palms and headed to the opposite direction.
Apartment 06.
Ichigo kicked the door, not expecting it to be unlocked. It slammed on the wall with a bang and he stepped in. The man had changed into a grey short sleeve V-neck, navy denim jeans and black boots. He looked so fine. He was standing in the middle of the living room, holding up Ichigo's wallet. The man raised his eyebrows as he looked at Ichigo. The cigarette hanging from his lips twitched as he smirked.
"Hey." Ichigo awkwardly said, avoiding eye contact. He decided to stare at the wallet in the man's hands.
"You left your wallet. I was going to throw it in the trash."
Ichigo was taken aback. Thoughts of thanking the man was thrown out of the window.
What? "Asshole. You could have called me back and returned it to me." Why the hell would anyone just randomly want to throw someone's stuff out? Rude, bro.
Ichigo was livid. His temper quickly getting the best of him. Everyone who knew Ichigo, knew that his temper was as short as Keigo's dick and everyone knew that it was really short.
He saw the man's thick eyebrows furrow in anger and his scowl deepened. The man's sky blue eyes darkened and he tightened his grip on the wallet. The man walked up to Ichigo. Talking light steps like a predator backing up his prey. It took every single sense of dignity for Ichigo not to bolt off or take a step back.
Next thing Ichigo realised, both of them were standing face to face at the door. Ichigo was just a step away from entering the house. He noticed how tall the man was as he stood in front of him. Most probably 6'3, compared to his 5'11 stature. This man must be quite oppressive when he goes out since Ichigo was a little over the average height. He could be a model. His attention snapped back to the situation in front of him as he heard the man speak.
"Look here, I was nice enough to haul your ass off the street to my place instead of leaving you out there for rapists to have a quick easy lay. You leave without even muttering thanks and now you come back here, busting my door open and calling me an asshole. Who the hell do ya think ya are?"
The last words were said slowly, laced with so much venom he could feel it poisoning his ears. There was a hint of an accent but only hint.
Ichigo was pretty much intimidated by this man. He looked up to the man noticing how threatening his whole being was. This man was built solid like a fighter. And it wasn't helping that Ichigo hadn't been keeping up with his health. Not to mention the tattoos and scars scattered all over the man's arm. He looked as if he had a dark past with all those markings. It made him look ominous and utterly badass at the same time. Maybe he's been in the military.
Ichigo swallowed the lump in his throat and hardened himself for what he had to say. He took in a breath and frowned as he inhaled a little of the smoke from the man's cigarette. He hated second-hand smoke, in fact, any kind of smoke. His mother could never tolerate those cancer sticks and so did he.
He opened his mouth to speak, trying not to let out a shaky voice. He didn't want to end up punching the man just because of his short temper. He leaned closer to man so that they were almost nose to nose. With a hardened glare,
"First of all, I came back to say thanks contrary to your prior thought of thinking I was an ungrateful piece of shit. Secondly, I didn't notice my wallet was gone until I came back here and thirdly, sorry for calling you an asshole but you are a fucking asshole." His fingers counting his points, in both their faces.
The man was unfazed but the expression in his eyes changed, not expecting the seemingly some cowardly boy to say those crude words. Taking advantage of that moment, Ichigo quickly grabbed his wallet from the man's grip, tucked it into his back pockets and turned to walk away.
"Wait. Before that-", with fast and slight movements Ichigo grabbed the cigarette from the man's mouth, the piece of cancer held between his thumb and fore finger.
"this" Ichigo motioned the stick nearer to the man's face.
"- this will kill you." He threw the cigarette on floor and stubbed it out with his own foot. Then he grabbed the door knob from outside to slam it into the man's face.
He sprinted to the lift expecting the man to break open the door and beat the shit out of him but it never came. Expecting that beast of a man to chase him, he slowed down to a walk when it didn't happen. Maybe the man thought that it wasn't worth the time. Ichigo mentally sighed; he can't physically sigh, in reality, as he was still panting his lungs out from the sprint.
Noticing that the distance he ran was just a few hundred feet, he mentally sighed again.
He entered the lift panting, regretting being so paranoid. Ichigo realised how unhealthy he was seeing that he was breathing so hard just by that short sprint. He caught his breath soon enough as the lift reached the lobby. Walking out, he headed for the local bar after leaving the apartment block.
As he walked out of the building, he felt the cold air seep into his jacket. He relished the coldness and just noticed how the experience had left him heated.
He felt calm. This was a first for him in many months. His mind was either usually muddled because of the booze and weed, or unclear due to exhaustion from the hangovers.
He blinked his eyes continuously and glanced up while walking. The sun was just beginning to rise; the sky was turning light. He could only see blue. He could only see the man's face. How the blue eyes darkened with anger. How those perfect lips sucked on the cancer stick and scowled at the same time. How the angular features was complemented with high cheekbones.
Ichigo sighed.
He only met the man once and he was already like this…
And I didn't even manage to get his name.