"Admit it," he said with this feral grin that never seemed to disappear from his face, "you're just afraid. You're a loser, a coward, and a fucking crybaby. That's all what this shit's about."
I was too focused on calming myself down to give him a reply right away. I wasn't breathing steadily; I'm sure I was even panting. I spat on the ground for the third time now, trying to get rid of the taste of blood in my mouth. Grimmjow always punched me in my face. Unless other people I got to fight with he never made a difference between my face and other parts of my body. No matter how hard I was trying to ignore his reason for this, the words always came back into my mind to mess everything up. Just like now. It made me angry and mad and whenever I thought about these pathetic and unbelievable disgusting words they made me want to vomit and I wanted to punch someone until they were unconscious. Preferably Grimmjow, that is.
Grimmjow has always been like that. The day I had entered middle school he began picking on me. Everyday, and I mean every fucking day we had school he would always find a reason to come to my seat, sit on my table, play with my utensils or even with my hair. He grabbed my wrists, pinned me on walls in the school floors when no one was looking and pulled on my clothes.
Our classmates thought we were good buddies, some of them even thought we were friends. What a ridiculous thought. I hated Grimmjow with every vein in me and each day I saw him the hatred got a redder shape. When Grimmjow was around me I always felt a funny tension between us. It was not only because of our daily fights or the hatred; there was something else I just couldn't seem to figure out. It was something I was actually scared of, because I was sure that one day this tension would snap. And more than that, I would get to see what was behind this tension.
The reason I wanted to avoid Grimmjow was this very fact. It was not the fights, it was not his mocking, and it even was not his cocky and toothy grin or his cerulean eyes and the combative glances he gave me all the fucking time with them. Maybe it was just me; maybe he didn't feel something like this at all and my hatred toward him just made me think stupid things like that. Maybe there wasn't such a tension at all. Somehow I hoped it was this way, but an always quiet and small part of me longed for this tension. More than that, this part has always wanted this tension to snap. What I didn't know back then was, that the reason for this tension to snap wouldn't be me, but him, Grimmjow how could I ever know that it would change my whole life.
"So no one but me will look at your face."