Bad Romance
Summary: Rukia is a 15 year-old schoolgirl/actress. Ichigo is an 18 year-old high school drop out actor, who won his first Oscar last year. Now they're starring in a movie together. Not good.
A/N: This is just an idea I'm messing with, completely out of my usual boundaries, and I'll see what kind of response I get as to whether to carry on.
If I do carry on, the next chap will be up after Christmas as I have mocks over this next month. I'm also not going to upload any more until it's fully written, as a few of my fics ended up completely wrong because of that, and because I know if I upload them as I write, I'll loose interest as I have with my Twilight crossover, so it's my self control really. XD Enjoy
The drizzle was irritating. It was the really annoying fine kind that soaked you through, ruining your hair and clothes from the first drop, which you'd been expecting since the sky turned the ominous shade of grey signifying its advances. It could have been worse though, she supposed. She could have been on the red carpet at the Hollywood Film Festival, the rain making a perfect paparazzi shot for the most embarrassing photo of her possible.
She hated the papps; they were high in her list of 'worst things about being in movies.' How Britney Spears went out with that guy for months was beyond her. But thankfully, there were none about right now, as she was running to the school gates, conscious the bell had rang ten minutes ago. GCSEs and SATs?? Why would she need them if she was making millions in movies??
She got there with record timing (any timing when she had gotten somewhere without her limo, which had inevitably stopped a few blocks away in traffic, was a record), and slipped through the gates, smiling at the old caretaker, startling him with the brightness of a smile on such a depressing morning.
It got worse though. Form was almost over by the time she had gotten in, meaning a scolding from her sensei and a detention, despite the nervous tittering of her star-stunned classmates and her perfectly valid excuse ("I was tired from all the work yesterday! Justin Timberlake's videos aren't just standing still swaying like Leona Lewis' are you know-"). All in all, by the time lunch had rolled around and she had opened up her super-low-calorie bento at the table with her best friends, her day could have been described as
"Oh my God, today has been shit!"
"Tell me about it," Matsumoto answered, drinking pure orange juice from a carton. "My home tech teacher told me that that my essay on whether or not Angelina Jolie should have done peanut dipping sauce with her spring rolls rather than orange at her birthday party last year was 'irrelevant, inappropriately comical and depressing for my generation'. What the hell?"
"Well Matsumoto, she did ask us to write what our perfect 10 course banquet would be if some royal guy wanted to come to our house..." Momo doubted.
"Hey, if Prince William liked that fry-up I made up the morning after that night, then his dad can have whatever I give him-"
"Oh come on Matusmoto, we all know you didn't really sleep with him..."
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Rukia Kuchiki groaned. The banter was usual for her two best friends, though had become more and more A-List related as they became better friends, and were invited to more parties. Over time, they'd become more and more appreciated by the celebrity culture she had invited them into, and now their pictures frequently appeared in glossies, their names in bold font, with the small caption below firmly set to 'Party-Girl' for the time being, with them usually clad in some perfect dress Rukia had insisted on buying them for the event.
Despite her friends occasionally disagreements, their lives were, all in all, perfect. But inevitably not for long.
The rest of the afternoon ran smoothly. Biology was basically passing notes, and P.E. was currently dance, so they were able to ace it with their annoying, enviable athleticism, which some girls claimed must be magic as it was a wonder Matsumoto could stand up, the size of her-. Even the sun came out.
Eventually the final bell rang, and Rukia ran to the safety and comfort of her ever-present limo, with her bodyguard handing her her usual Starbucks, the driver chuckling to some new fact about the latest wannabe-celeb, her P.A. serenely telling her what they were going to do and where they were going now in dulcet tones that her employer had sent her on a course to learn how to perfect...
"Wait, what?" She hadn't been listening.
"I said, your brother has arranged for us to go and meet the producer of a new movie in one hour. He's actually a friend of mine, so I'll just advise you to wear jeans." Nanao nodded wisely.
Rukia's head snapped to the headrest, beautifully cared for locks glistening. She covered her mouth with a perfectly manicured hand to hide her yawn.
"What's the plot, how much does it pay, and what is its overall budget?"
She usually used these questions to decide whether or not to actually take the meeting with the producer seriously, though the analysis was usually not need, as her brother was very capable of setting her up with the best projects. Byakuya Kuchiki, 5 time Oscar and goodness-knows-how-many-Academy-Awards, was now retired with his wife, Rukia's sister Hisana, and Hisana's currently unborn baby, and now covered Rukia's work in the film industry, guiding and advising, the perfect manager. If only he wasn't so grouchy.
But this time, it was different. "Ah Rukia," Nanao answered. "It's not about the movie, but who's in it!"
Her head shot up so fast she cricked her neck, but didn't pay any notice. "Johnny Depp?"
"No."
"Brad Pitt?"
"...No."
"Keanu Reeves?" Her face was hopeful.
Nanao sighed deeply. Such a materialistic girl, she thought, brat.
"No. It's Ichigo Kurosaki!"
Rukia leaned back, deeply unimpressed. "What, that kid who was in the samurai movie last year? Why would I be excited about being in a film with that nobody-strawberry?"
Nanao coughed. "He won an Oscar last year, Rukia."
She was still unmoved. "The only person who can't win Oscars is Kate Winslet. And even she won one a couple years ago."
"You've yet to win one yet either."
"Hello? I aim for MTV Movie Awards, not the Oscars. I'll worry about those when I turn thirty."
Nanao's face wore the signs of tiredness, and deep, deep stress. "Well, your brother wants you there." She never said no to her brother.
Rukia reluctantly gave up. "Fine. I'll see you later." The sleek elongated car pulled up in front of their epic mansion, and it had barely stopped before she opened the door and jumped out, strutting across the granite flooring towards the front door.
"Remember to wear jeans!"
She didn't turn, but waved. "Sure, whatever."
Maids took her coat and schoolbag, helping her out of unfashionable lace ups. Hips waving in the seductive manner that had been practised since she was five and saw Tyra Banks runway-walking down her own hallway, she made her way to her rooms in the western wing of the estate, the part which stayed darker in the mornings than the other side. She wandered through her hotel-esque living room and into her bathroom, studying herself in the mirror.
Rukia Kuchiki, for some obscure reason which was impossible to find, had been born perfect. Her mother had died the same day her presence had deemed to grace the Earth – 2 weeks late. However, she honoured her mother daily by the small shrine, and her eyes. While her sister's were a beautiful chocolate brown (that of her father's, who had died of a broken heart a few months after his beloved wife had passed on), hers were a rather precious violet, the likes of which no one had been able to match since. Rukia's skin, though forever porcelain white unless she spray-tanned, was completely unblemished, a couple moles placed around her body, but nothing that would be seen if strapless, short dresses came on the catwalk. There were no laughter lines, her nose was a perfect shape for her face, and, because she had never really worked a full day in her life, the skin under her eyes did not even have a natural shadow. Her hair was a natural black which never had roots, if she decided to eat a foot-long meatball marinara from Subway every meal for a week she would still be 6 ½ stone...
Her only insecurity (more like the only thing you might be able to find wrong about her) was that she was 4"10 at the age of 15. Despite this, her legs still made up a good 2/3 of her body, though she was slightly depressed for a few weeks when she realised she wouldn't be following Kate Moss down a runway anytime soon.
Instead, she had turned to her next love, acting. Or "being paid to be a drama queen" as her sister affectionately put it. And just like her physical perfectness, Rukia seemed attuned to being the perfect actress, portraying emotions better than if she'd actually been experiencing them.
After her careful check of her face, she decided she looked more professional with her hair up, and tied it up in a bun, with a self-proclaimed, Blair Waldorf style Miu Miu headband. Her new Dolce and Gabbana grey pleated-at-the-bottom silk skirt went perfectly with her vintage cashmere shawl, which wrapped around her torso to make a shirt of sorts. Louboutins were always perfect. So were Tiffany diamond stud earrings.
Many girls at school had said that it was completely unfair that as well as being so beautiful, she was so rich to help it as well. Originally, until she was about 2, her sister and Rukia had lived in a flat in a middle-class area of Tokyo, living off their inheritance, until Rukia's first job, an Armani Children's advert, setting off her career much the same way as Sarah Michelle Gellar. Also there, filming the new Armani Men's advert was Byakuya. Him and Hisana locked eyes, and the rest, as they say, was history. Rukia had a maid and a nanny to herself just six months later, as well as a loving sister and new brother.
Byakuya's family had been unhappy at first. Theirs was an old, ancestral family, going back hundreds of generations, and their reaction to his announcement was along the lines of, "What, a nobody?" Byakuya had wanted to prove them wrong, but his new wife had not wanted to thrust her new, perfect life into the limelight, so Byakuya had turned to the obvious talent that had lead to the meeting of his new love. And so Rukia Kuchiki had become the greatest project that anyone had ever imagined, netting in around $15 million before she was five with the help of her new older brother, her 'fame maker'.
After a spritz of perfume, a unnecessary nail touch-up, and more checking her image in the mirror, Rukia had managed to be 15 minutes late before she'd even stepped out of the door. Re-entering the limo, her baby pink shawl had almost snagged, but the new doorman stopped her before it ripped, and winked at her as he helped her in. She smiled wickedly, and after the door closed, made a mental note to find out more about him... and to push him into the water fountain. Yummy...
Barely any time had passed before the limo pulled to a stop, she pushed on her Valentino sunglasses, and stepped out into a sea of photographers, hauled unladylike through the vast numbers to the double steel doors, opening for her and closing behind her with a bang that totally didn't need to be there. The interior of her new surroundings was totally modern, black marble everywhere, even a small model water feature in the centre, surrounded by grass. Almost too modern. It was not in her classic taste.
"Miss Kuchiki!"
She turned to see a flamboyantly dressed man, long dark hair tied up in a ponytail. "I'm Shunsui Kyoraku, but you can call me Shunsui if you'd like." His charming smile didn't get through Rukia's defences.
She answered coldly, "Thank you, Mr Kyoraku."
He did not seem disgruntled however. "Nanao! Good to see you! Why, you look better than you did this morning when you woke up!"
Nanao blushed. "Shut up!" she hissed, shoving him.
He laughed. "Ladies, may I introduce you to the director; this is Kisuke Urahara."
He nodded to Rukia's P.A. "Good to see you Nanao", and turned to Rukia, took off his hat respectfully, and bowed. "Kuchiki-Sama."
She ripped the hat from his hands, and shoved it back on his head. "Could we have hurry up, please? I have a movie premiere in three hours. And I have maths homework due tomorrow."
"I'm sure you do." Urahara smiled.
They were led to a small conference room, big enough for twenty, though only the four of them in it. They sat, and Shunsui offered Rukia biscuits. She declined.
"So," He began. "The script. Your brother wasn't too bothered once he found out who else had been cast as a lead-"
"Excuse me?"
For the first time, the feminine man looked put off. "He appears to be trying to get you noticed by a little more than MTV." He smirked slightly.
"Right." Her answer was sharp.
"Well, anyways, here's your script."
She was silent for a few minutes as she read. "Why do the characters have the same names as the actors portraying them?"
"Because the parts were written for you, and the names stuck, I guess."
She nodded and continued.
"So, my brother wants to get me out of teen movies by putting me in a teen movie with a more successful actor in it?"
They didn't have an answer.
"Well whatever. I've read enough. Send a copy to my house and I can go through it at the weekend. You can wait a couple days before we speak again, right? Then we'll have our lawyers go over details, we'll have a more in-depth meeting involving my brother, I'll meet my cast, we'll work out filming times... then we will decide whether this job is suitable ok?" She paused. "Guys, what's this even called?"
"Oh," Shunsui grinned. "Bleach."
"Right, whatever." She grimaced. "We'll be in touch."
Once they were waved off, and in the sanctuary of the limo, Rukia used her perfect teeth, perfect mouth and perfect tongue to pronounce perfectly clearly, "Bastards."
"So, who will my boy be working with on this project?" Isshin Kurosaki's left eyebrow raised.
"Currently we are discussing terms of agreement with Rukia Kuchiki." Shunsui grinned, finally comfortable in the presence of mortals such as himself.
"What, that stuck up bitch? No way!"
"Son, sit down. Anyway, she seems to be a perfectly capable actress, very beautiful, and petite-"
"She's a fucking short-ass." The boy... man sat in the plush chair in the conference room received a kick in the face. "Holy shit, old man!"
"I apologize for my son. On his behalf, as his father, you can send word to Kuchiki that my son, Ichigo Kurosaki, would love to take part in this project!"
"Way to make me sound like a pansy."
(Whack)
"Holy Hell, how are you still able to kick that hard?!"
"Of course, Kurosaki-san! I'm delighted to have you as part of our new project!"
Ichigo grunted from his chair, scowl firmly set in place. "Yeah. Whatever."
Urahara chuckled behind his customary fan. "That's what she said." He and Shunsui left the room, and continued walking down the whitewash hallway.
"That was amazing, Urahara-san! I didn't expect your plan to actually work!" Shunsui's hushed words of awe made it through over the arguing that could be heard from the room they had just left.
"Well, we had to find some way to break into the business." He answered smugly. "It was simple really. You'd have thought they'd check to see if the other actor had fully agreed to be part of it first, but they were just drawn by big names..."
"Who cares?! It worked! By the way, congratulate Yoruichi on her script! Her warped mind appears to be brilliant about writing insane plots."
"Except she worked us into it."
"Small price to pay, my friend."
"Dad, what the hell?!"
Isshin's eyebrows went up, and he leaned back in his leather chair, safely back in his office at home. "What? I got you your next acting job, like we agreed. I have no idea why you seem to dislike this beautiful woman before you've even met her-"
"Because she's obviously a stuck up snob!"
"Oh, don't be so prejudiced! And sit down; you're wearing out my carpet." Ichigo flopped into the seat in front of his father's plain wood desk.
"You don't even give me a choice."
"Because I knew you'd say no! Besides, you haven't had a job since last year."
Ichigo growled softly, irritancy obvious on his face. "Which I got an Oscar for, so who cares anymore? The debts are paid off; I've done what I needed to to keep us in this house until we die. What more do you want?"
Isshin sighed. "I want you to do something with your life. I want you to be somewhere good when you die; having achieved everything you could. I want your sisters to be showing you off as much as they can when they bring their silly friends home with them from school. I want your mom to look down at you from wherever she is now and be proud. I want what you want."
Ichigo looked thoughtful for a moment, and then resumed scowling again. "...Fine."
Isshin grinned like a kid with candy, leaned forward and pushed his reading glasses up. "Good. Now go get ready for your date with Orihime! Can't keep a girl like her waiting."
"It's only a movie premiere."
"Pirates of the Caribbean 4 is not just any movie premiere. Johnny Depp is there."
Rukia, Momo and Matsumoto were stood in a line in front of Rukia's wall of mirror. Each girl's face was low, dark and angry.
"What the hell am I gonna do!? It's only one hour away and I look like shit!"
"Don't worry Rangiku, you look beautiful. I look like a mess."
"Trust me Momo, you are perfect. I just look like a sack of potatoes-"
Rukia threw her sequinned box clutch against the wall, shrieked, and tantrumed like a four-year-old, whose parents had taken her through the drive-thru of McDonald's only to turn around and not buy them anything. She screamed and slammed into the bathroom, pulling off jewellery and ripping out hair pins on her way. When she'd locked the door, she slammed her back against it and groaned.
The problem was her dress. Victoria Beckham's dress would have been gorgeous on a girl with curves to fill it out (surprising as the woman herself was a stick), but Rukia didn't have any. So it sucked really.
She heard her friends rifling through the hangars in her dressing room, searching for other dresses, and racked her brains trying to think. She leant her head on her hand, propped up on her knee, turning her gaze to the left, where she saw it.
She'd completely forgotten about it. And there it was. The dress that had made Rukia applaud Donatella for when she had seen it on the catwalk, and she had promptly paid for one to be sent to the house in her size...
Where it had inevitably been taken by her maid this morning, and put in her bathroom to steam. It was a gold, floor length, and figure hugging dress, silk underneath, with a layer of lace with gems, diamonds and sequins over the top layer. The neck line was a v-neck... to her navel. It was the same at the back. And with her hair freshly pulled out of the curled bun, tousled sexily, even she had to admit – Johnny Depp's jaw would be dropping. Unless Orlando looked incredibly amazing tonight also...
The suit was tight, and uncomfortably so, but when Ichigo had complained to his father, he had laughed, shoving him out of the door, telling him that he would thank him later.
Orihime's dress also appeared to be uncomfortably tight, but the 18-year old, well endowed girl didn't seem to notice, the way she was all over him, which he would have welcomed if they were at home and she wasn't getting lipstick on his face and his collar-
"Oh shit!"
"Sorry, honey!" except she wasn't sorry at all, as went to re-smear the offending gloss on her lips, as unclassy as they came. "You can barely see it. Besides, don't you want everyone to know that we're still together...?"
"Whatever." He lolled his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. I have to finish this woman; he thought grumpily, she's a bigger slut than Jordan. (Note: Katie Price, aka 'Jordan', is a British glamour model, who has had more breast implants than I have fingers, and is mainly seen as a slut. To me, in my Orihime bashing head, this is how I see Orihime.)
The car pulled to a stop, and though the cameras could not see through the windows to them, they were still blinded by numerous flashes. Well, Ichigo was. He wasn't sure how far ahead Orihime could see with her false eyelashes.
The sleek limo pulled up directly beside the red carpet, amid squeals from Rukia's two friends, who has both already spotted Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Rukia slipped her hand down the side of her seat, reaching for her Lola by Marc Jacobs bottle, and spritzing it liberally over the part of her chest which was exposed. She scrunched her hair to her head one last time, before grabbing her clutch and gracefully stepping out onto the walk of fame.
She and her friends worked their way down through flashes, stopping every few feet to pose, and pout her red lips towards a camera. She met Johnny Depp, smiling graciously; putting on her air of awe, and even – to Matsumoto and Momo's squeals – got a kiss on her cheek from him as he left her to attend to a girlfriend. She was talking to Keira Knightly, in her usual Chanel brilliance, when she spotted something orange...
She was hugging Johnny Depp. He wouldn't be surprised if his girlfriend was smothering him, with the force of which she held him. It was so embarrassing, he'd tried to tactfully get Orihime away from him so he could breathe, but she'd just held him harder.
It would have been funny is the paps hadn't been taking pictures of them while Ichigo looked on, standing with his long-time friend Abarai Renji, who was in hysterics.
"Renji, shut up."
"But look at his face, dude!"
He would have found it funny if it hadn't been his girlfriend. True he was almost certain he was going to break up with her, but still. He had a reputation.
He finally had enough.
"Orihime..." the 'strawberry' leaned forward, tapping her on her shoulder. "Sweetie," his tone showed how he hated calling her these 'cute couple terms', "honey, maybe it's time to give him some air."
"Oh yeah, of course, sorry..."
The legendary actor accepted her apology, and turned to Ichigo, mouthing 'thank you', before hurrying away back to his girlfriend.
"Poor guy." Renji had come to stand next to Ichigo, whose girlfriend had now wrapped her arms around his waist, and was waving to the cameras in another desperate attempt to gain some attention. "How 'bout us guys go in and get some seats?"
"Sure, whatever." Ichigo turned, and as he began walking to the building, hauling his limpet with him, he turned at the exact, perfectly timed moment to catch violet eyes staring intensely at him, before turning away, to walk with her friends into the theatre.
Oh yes. There was no doubt. That flat-chested midget was Kuchiki Rukia. He just hadn't expected her to be so cute. Oh yeah, he thought, this is gonna be fun...
Several hours later, an exhausted Rukia, pulled the door to her own limo open by herself, bags in one hand, shoes in other, and stumbled bare-footed across the patio, immediately soaked by the violent rain. The fountain had flooded, and was now soaking her feet, but she didn't care. Her make-up had run, and she couldn't be bothered. The lace on her new dress had snagged on a decorative stone as she had walked past it, but she wasn't conscious enough to give it another thought.
She pushed open the door, annoyed that the staff hadn't waited up (another day she wouldn't have blamed them – she stayed out drinking a lot past 4 in the morning, despite being underage), and dragged herself across the other courtyard to her wing, not even aware she was walking mud onto her meticulous carpet. She finally reached her bed, and closed her eyes.
Even though she'd spent the night flirting and drinking with various people, the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was a pair of intense amber eyes... which she wouldn't even remember the next morning.
Ichigo kicked off his shoes, and pushed Orihime against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her passionately. The amount of alcohol in his system didn't make him drowsy; he was as energetic as ever.
He and his girlfriend discarded the clothing as they made their way to his bedroom, not noticing the debris they left. They eventually got there, too intent on their need to fuck. The night was still young after all... he could break up with Orihime tomorrow.
Hope you enjoyed. R+R please!! Beth x
5/12/09 00:45
