Yup. Totally not the fluffy shit I normally write, but it has an important meaning for me. I rated it M just for safety.

BUT! This is a colab, people! YUP! Special, special credits and thanks and love go to Patd06, who agreed to collaborate with me into bringing this baby to the light of the world. *wipes a dramatic tear* Thank you so much dear! I wouldn't have done it without you and your humor! ^_^

Be prepared; its OOC. Obviously. And there is no smut. Sowwy. I don't think that someone who wants to kill themselves want to have sex too... But other than that, enjoy!

Disclaimer; I do not own Bleach or any of the characters.


Ich bin hier irgendwo gelandet,

Kann nicht mehr sagen, wer ich bin...
Hab die Erinnerung verloren...
Die Bilder ergeben keinen Sinn...
Bring mich zurück, bring mich nach Haus.
Ich schäff's nicht allein hier raus!

Komm und hilf mir Fliegen!
Leih mir deine Flügel!
Ich Tausch sie gegen die Welt,
Gegen alles, was mich hält,
Ich tausch sie heute Nacht...

Gegen alles was ich hab.

- "Hilf mir fliegen" (Help me Fly), Tokio Hotel -


It was noisy as hell. Even from this far, the traffic of my city was drum-piercing. But everything looked so small from up there, little, insignificant moving dots and I felt a little comforted.

I was small too. I was tiny. Insignificant too. Brittle, fragile.

No, I wasnt brittle, I wasn't fragile. I was already broken.

Asphalt looked so soft, tempting me to just throw myself over the edge. I wonder if it'll feel like jumping into a bunch of pillows.

I instantly facepalmed at my stupidity. Of course it ain't gonna be soft; it will hurt. It is supposed to hurt.

Everything hurts in this life.

But it will be over after I jump; the pain, the regret, the hatred... Everything will be gone...

Everybody has a fucked up life, right? I wasn't an exception. I grew up in the grey city, under the clouds of pollution, into the filthy, dangerous streets, suffering beatings, robbings, gunshots, bullying on a daily basis... I never understood why, why was I sentenced into this doom, but in the end I figured that it had to happen. Like a routine, you know? Nobody asks the routine, they just do it. And that was how I lived these twenty years of my life, ever since I was born.

But now... Now it was all different. I didn't want to live, I didn't want to go back home, to face my always drunk and high father, didn't want to listen to my sisters fucking men in their rooms just to get extra bucks, or listen to their whining about STDs. And if I didn't go home, where would I go? To my boyfriend's? Why? To take another one of his famous beatings?

No. No more.

Nobody would cry if I died. Nobody cared for me in this world. I had always been the black sheep with that stand-out, orange hair of mine, my father hating me because he thought I wasn't his son. That was why he killed my mother.

I'll never forgive him for that. I hope he rots before he dies, just for the pain to soak deep into his being and follow him in Hell.

My mother... Well, she was the only person that actually cared and she was gone ten years ago. Ever since then I had been thinking about killing myself.

Ten years later, I finally decide to do it.

Yeah.

C'mon, jump. Jump.

Jump!

Something screeched from my left, attracting my attention. It was the door to the terrace I was currently on and I mentally cursed when somebody else appeared behind this door. I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of bright blue hair. Damn, and here I thought I had some weird ass hair. His back was facing me since he was closing the door, but when he finally turned around, a pair of bright blue eyes captivate me almost instantly. His face was gorgeous, absolutely ethereal and his body is built to match. He wasn't too buff but he was slim and defined, the complete opposite of the disgusting skinny me.

An unlit cigarette dangled from between his full lips and he lit it before taking a drag and fixing me with an uninterested look.

Well look at that., his blue eyes said.

"Nice weather we're having, eh?", he commented nonchalantly. I almost laughed, but then I remembered that I was supposed to be offing myself, so I settled for my trademark scowl.

"Yeah, sure," I muttered bitterly. Didn't know what he meant. Was he sarcastic? He had to be; the weather was shitty.

The blue-haired male didn't respond as I looked back down at the street below, just thinking that in a few moments I'll be decorating the sidewalk with my internal organs.

"Ya know, if yer gonna jump, you should probably do it sooner rather than later. You'll lose yer nerve if ya keep waitin'." I looked at him over my shoulder once more before rolling my eyes.

"Thanks," I quipped crassly. What the fuck is wrong with him? Is he really going there, teasing me and shit?

He continued to watch me, puffing on his cigarette idly. It's so irritating, yet so intriguing.

"What's yer name, kid?" he suddenly asked.

"Does it really matter?" I replied, nastily. He threw his hands up defensively.

"Hey now, I'm only askin' so I'll know what to tell the cops before they start cleaning ya up off the street." I snorted a bit, but relent nonetheless.

"I'm just another pedestrian who happened to slip on the cement. Tell them that."

"Damn, really? What a nice pair of two left feel you got there," he chuckled sarcastically, taking a seat right next to where I was standing, throwing his feet over the edge so that they were hanging aimlessly in the empty space. He had a strange allure, an unidentifiable aura which really intrigued but he was an asshole, so I rolled my eyes once more and clenched my jaw.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Not until four."

I think I felt a small smile pull at my lips before I turned away from him again, but I wasn't quite sure if I was actually smiling or not.

"What's your name?"

"Does it really matter?", he repeated and a cocky smile formed on his lips. "Not like yer gonna remember it."

Ugh, how irritating. I wanted to smack him at the back of his ridiculously blue head.

"Whatever, forget I asked," I clipped and we went silent again.

As I looked down at the street below again, visions of all of my problems danced in my head. My father attacking me with a broken beer bottle; watching my mother die by my father's hands; walking in on my sister shooting up heroin; my boyfriend knocking me unconscious for coming home fifteen minutes late; my shitty job, equally shitty living conditions, and monumentally shitty health. Yeah, there was no need for me to exist anymore. Bracing myself to finally take that plunge, I paused in my actions when the sole member of my unsolicited audience speaks again.

"I can push you if you wanna."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I need no help from someone who wears cotton candy on his head," I retort acidly. How dare that asshole? Was he for real? Didn't he have any emotion in that soul of his? I mean, c'mom, okay, I was going to kill myself, but no pep talk? Nothing? What a strange mofo.

He glares at me, pointing at me with his cigarette when he speaks. "Touché, ginger. Anyways, nice to meet ya, even though I'm guessing our time to get to know each other is a bit limited, ne?"

I almost laughed, despite my previous anger. How could this guy be so blasé about something as serious as someone committing suicide in front of him?

"You aren't going to ask why?"

"Why what?"

"Why I'm trying to kill myself."

"Nah, I just wanted a cigarette. What yer doin' ain't got nothin' to do with me. If that's what ya feel is the best option for ya, then who am I to question it?"

I have to admit that I was a bit shocked at his answer. Again. It seemed a lot more eloquent than I initially took him to be. I nodded my agreement to what he's said.

"You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you," I said quietly. Didn't know what else to say, you know.

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "Yeah, well I hear jumpin' off'a buildings ain't too good for ya either," he retorted, "Plus, my grandmother lived to be a hundred and three years old."

"She smoked?"

"Nah, she minded her own damned business."

I couldn't help it; I busted out laughing this time, though I had to be careful to keep from losing my balance on the ledge. This guy is too ridiculous.

"Your grandma was a wise person," I said in the end.

He shrugged, flipping the white ash off his cigarette. "Not really. She was a grouchy old hag. But at least she was better than my shitty parents."

He had shitty parents too? Well, it wasn't surprising.

"I had a mother," I slowly opened up, staring intensely down at the gray asphalt. It was so pretty... "But my dad killed her."

"Sucks fer ya."

"I hope he dies in the most painful way possible." I was hissing by now, the supressed rage from all these years surfacing. I was trembling too. Yet, the blue-haired man next to me didn't seem to give a shit about it. He only cocked one of his blue eyebrows at me.

"So you want him to die...", he repeated, "But yer here tryin'a kill yerself?" He looked puzzled but amused. "I don't get'cha ginger."

I made a sound in my throat that sounded like a grunt trying to be a chuckle. Nobody ever gets me.

He wasn't an exception.

"I have nothing," I said, my throat slowly closing up on me. Shit, it was hard to breath again; where had the oxygen gone? "I've failed at everything."

"So dyin' is the best solution?", he questioned absently. I glanced at him but he wasn't looking at me. His blue eyes were staring blankly at the gray horizon, his mind obviously not here. It sounded like... Like he was asking that question to himself.

Had he... Had he thought about dying too?

"For now, it is...", I mumbled after a while of silence. Then questions, doubts started filling my mind; was it indeed the best solution? Was it wise to just... end it?

He was right; standing and thinking about it for too long drops your confidence. I chuckled nastily at my cowrdness. I wanted to die, there was no mistake in it, but I was still hesitating.

"I wish I had wings," I sighed, looking up at the dull sky, "So I could fly away, leave back everybody and everything."

We are quiet once these words left my mouth. He didn't say anything. I didn't want him to say anything. I was just still waiting for that last bit of will to live to disappear.

The blue-haired man finished his cigarette, tossing the useless butt off the side of the building, probably forgotten before it hit the ground. Just like me."Won't you regret it?", he asked, shifting on the grey cement, "Leaving shit behind ain't gon'be easy, no matter how shitty yer life is."

I shook my head negatively, chuckling to myself. I wouldn't miss anything from my life; not my alcoholic father, not the whores I call my sisters, not my absusive boyfriend, nothing. Nothing.

"No, I definitely won't."

"Well then," he grunted and rose to his feet, dusting his behind off of the lingering dust. He walked up to me, his face expressionless, and I could see clearly his beautiful blue eyes hiding sadness.

I guess all of us has a fucked up life, right?

Suddenly, he tent his hand and a gray feather was in front of my face. I frowned at him but I didn't speak; I waited for him to explain himself.

We stayed in silence for a while before he rolled his eyes and snorted. "Take it, stupid," he said, shoving it against my chest.

"Why?", I asked. I was honestly lost.

He quirked his finely trimmed, blue eyebrow at me, looking at me incredulously. "Didn't you say you wanted wings?", he asked, "Here." He pushed the feather further into me, "Take this. It's not enough for wings, but you gotta start from somewhere."

I took the delicate feather in my hand, staring at it as if it held the cure to my desease, the analgetic to my pain. I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, what to think but... But suddenly, there was a small light, a tiny, innocent little light ray that warmed up my ice-cold soul.

For the first time in ten years I smiled.

"Make your own wings if you want them so bad," he said again, turning on his heel and walking away from me. He reached for the door, lazily opened it but before he went back in, he looked over his shoulder at me, his blue eyes somehow... sparkling.

"When you finish, come here again. Maybe we'll fly away together." And then he was gone.

I didn't say goodbye, didn't manage to. He disappeared fast, just like all the good things in my life... But no. Now I had a purpose. I looked at the feather in my hands, tears sliding down my eyes, silent, unnoticed.

I have hope.

XXXX

I was at the rooftop again, smoking another one of my cigarettes, hating the whole world like I always did. Life was boring, a nuisance but it would be too troublesome to just end it you know? Besides, they'd had to clean my guts from the pavement and the street. Troublesome, no matter how you see it. I had attempted suicide so many times but I never had the guts to actually end it. Very few people ever do.

It had always been like this; living in filth, pain, tears, mother screaming because her current boyfriend was beating and raping her. I had always been the bastard with no father, the faggot, the whore. I was immune to all these insults. I had no more tears to shed, dried them out before I hit sixteen. Didn't give a shit anymore.

"I wish I had wings."

I wonder if you made those wings.

It has been a year after all.

I was still thinking about that guy. He was handsome and he had nice hair. Orange. Bright, you know, like the sun I never see. It made me wonder; was it real?

Next time I see him, maybe I'll ask him.

Will I see him again?

"Where do you get your strength from?" My best friend had asked me before he shot up his heroin, then died from overdose.

I shook my head, exhaling the gray smoke. Why was everybody so wrong? It's not strength. It's acceptance. I have accepted that my life will always be shitty. I have accepted that I will never change who I am or what I am.

"I wish I had wings."

I wish I had wings too.

"So I could fly away, leave back everybody and everything."

I want to fly away too. I want to leave everything behind me too.

But I am not strong enough to do it alone.

There was a soft click from somewhere behind me, but I didn't bother looking over my shoulder. I didn't care who it was. I stopped caring long time ago. If somebody wanted to get down and dirty, I could easily take anybody on.

Footsteps approaching me, soft rustling sounds, the breeze was softly blowing and ruffling my hair. Comforting. But not enough.

Suddenly, there was something landing next to me. Something big, soft... Feathers?

"Sorry it took me a while," a familiar voice said. I lifted his head and his eyes instantly locked with familiar chocolate brown. There was only one difference;

The ginger was smiling.

I looked down at the pile of feathers and quirked one eyebrow. "What's this?"

Ginger rolled his eyes and lifted the feathers up, opened the folding and oh-

"I made our wings," ginger said proudly.

I was starlted. Speechless. I had never thought that the guy would actually do it. Fuck that, I had thought the guy had already offed himself for all it was worth.

Shocked, my eyes locked with brown and Ginger snickered. "Ready to go?"

I looked at the wings, trying to convince myself that this wasn't a joke, something stirring in my chest. Something I counted as dead since years ago.

My heart.

Then, I glanced at Ginger and a genuine smile formed on my face. When was the last time I actually smiled? Who knew.

Now it was different. Now it was somehow refreshing. Some fresh air breathing through me and I finally let out the stench I had been holding all these years in a shuddering breath.

I had hope.

Now I had hope.

I had my wings.

I had someone by my side. A stranger, but still. He was someone suffering as much as I did.

I could fly away with him. Leave this dump behind us together.

"Hell yeah."

Ginger grinned brightly and montioned at me to sit up. I obeyed. He gave me one of the two wings while he held the other. Then took my hand into his.

It was warm. A little clammy too, but I wasn't in the correct state of mind to care.

What was happening to me?

Why was I so relieved? So happy?

Why did I have hope? I had always thought my hope had died long time ago.

And all it took was a ginger with crazy art skills and pretty brown eyes to lighten up the fire into me?

Then we ran. We ran far, far away, hand-in-hand, pulling each other in turns when fatigue was taking over us.

"What's your name?", I asked the ginger again, just like the first time we had met. We had stopped running to catch our ran away breaths. He was panting, he was sweaty and red from the effort yet he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

"I'm Ichigo," he said, briefly pushing his hands through his messy hair, "You?"

"Grimmjow."

He grinned again. I grinned too. Hell, I've been grinning like an idiot, haven't I?

"Well Grimmjow," Ichigo said, "Were do we fly to?"

I thought about it. Where did I always want to go? Where did I always want to do with my freedom?

Freedom.

Freedom.

Yeah... I liked the sound of that.

I smiled at my partner and grasped his hand, inching closer and planting a chaste kiss on those full, pink lips.

"Where the wind takes us."

Ichigo looked at me, his eyes big, doe and flooding with emotion. "Then let's go," he whispered and then we were running again.

I could hear the shackles of my and his life, those heavy, grey chains around my feet and heart disintigrating into thin air. I felt light, ready to fly.

I was free.

We were free.

"Where the wind takes us."

Yup. That was the plan.


I've landed here somwhere...

I don't know who I am anymore...
I've lost the memories...
The pictures produce no sense...
Bring me back, back home.
I can't make it out of here alone!

Come and help me fly!
Lend me your wings!
I exchange them for the world,
and for all that keeps me back,
I exchange them tonight.

For everything that I have.

- Hilf mir fliegen, Tokio Hotel (Translation) -


XXXX

Lemme know what you think, please! Again, HUGE thanks to Patd06! :) *huggles*

Thanks for reading.

Queen.