WARNINGS: Slow development, alternate universe, possible OOC, sexual themes, graphic sex, yaoi, violence, drug abuse, and swearing.

A/N: I'm so grateful that I was able to indulge my self into this story with such passion, this work is as good as I can do at this point in my life. So despite that I'm no quixotomy or Mistress Penelopye or whatever I hope that whoever may read this can still enjoy it. I would very much appreciate it if readers out there who come across this and do read it give me feedback. I want to know how I can make this better for you guys. Maybe I can also to impress a few souls out there; hit a few soft spots or make you feel what the character is feeling. Also, if it weren't for my beta, I don't think I could even provide this story; Thank you so, so much Kajima. Even though Kajima has just started out in editing my work, she has really helped me. Her beta touch doesn't take place until chapter two. JoanIncarnate was my beta for chapter one and I appreciate her help immensely! Thank you so, so much JoanIncarnate!

This story was inspired by all the wonderful stories out there that I've come to read, each and every one helped me decide on this and as I continue to read I become further inspired, so thank you. And as long as I know that there's at least one person out there reading it-even if it's just my beta editing my work-then I know I can keep writing.

Thankyouthankyouthankyou... etc.

OK, I'm done.


Writers end up writing about their obsessions. Things that haunt them; things they can't forget; stories they carry in their bodies waiting to be released. -Natalie Goldberg


preamble

I

I couldn't pinpoint exactly how I got here in this damnable, sterile room. Everything was white. My clothes, my bed sheets, the curtains, walls. Even beyond the pristine window was a city blanketed in fresh snow, sprinkling down like meaningless fluff and shrouding anything that wasn't covered in this pasty shit.

I hate the color white. It's so boring, so clean. Meaningless. It reminds me of a blank slate, a person full of nothingness. Someone who doesn't know happiness or sadness, friendship or enemies. A person with no scars or memories.

Heh, I probably needed that, but I wouldn't change anything that ever transpired in my life. If I never did the things I did then I wouldn't have known him. It sounds fucked up, but I'm glad I started using. If I had been an empty shell and followed the rules, got good grades, never fought, then I wouldn't have stuck out. (OK, maybe I stuck out by default with my hair, but that's beside the point). Kurosaki wouldn't have noticed a struggling introvert.

Now that I think of it, sitting here, unable to move or speak but just think I've come to an epiphany: Kurosaki Ichigo being the most persistent asshole on the planet helped me immeasurably.

I know, its confusing shit. Like I said, I don't know how it happened really. I mean I know how I got here in this hospital—that was too clear for comfort, full of copious amounts of anguish—but I don't know how Kurosaki and I came to be what we are. I can't even tell you what we are because I don't have the slightest fucking clue.

So here it is. Here I am, ready to explain what happened in my life that managed to get me here: stuck in this hospital, wondering if Kurosaki was coming with flowers. He knew I really liked orange orchids. I bet he would be showing up soon with some. He would be looking tired but happy to see me conscious, even if just barely, before punching me on my good arm and setting off on an hour long lecture and-

What was I saying?

Oh. My life affairs that brought me here.

Shit, here goes nothing.


January

Karakura Elementary

3rd Grade

The first time my eyes saw him I was, in a nutshell, hopeful. His crazy hair—shouting its existence out to every living, breathing soul—matched up to mine. Again, hopeful was what I was, even though I knew not one person or thing could compensate for my characteristics. Dwelling in Japan only supplied more credibility towards my exaggeration about Kurosaki's hair.

And that face. So full and round. Chubby pink cheeks that were always pushed aside to make room for his blinding grin. He didn't care about anything. He wasn't one to cry over spilled milk, but instead laugh at his clumsiness.

I had no idea what it was that made him so happy until the day I saw him getting picked up from school.

It would be easier to picture it as a scene from a movie. A woman with brightly colored hair and tranquil beauty waited outside, smiling just as her son was. The sun shone bright above their heads as she joined her hand in his and got down on one knee, pushing his loud hair from his forehead to make room for a kiss. Accompanying her were two girls. They looked like they just bypassed the diaper phase, obviously much younger than Kurosaki. They were clinging onto the woman's pant legs, smiles growing as they greeted Kurosaki.

I wasn't jealous, I had a mother. Soft spoken and fragile. Kurosaki's mom reminded me of her, actually. The only significant difference was that my mother couldn't come to my school to walk me home, couldn't move blue strands from my face to give me little kisses. She couldn't even get out of bed and check the mail, let alone pick me up from elementary school.

OK, maybe I was a little jealous, or rather, envious.

Kurosaki had the pleasure of greeting his mother after school, going home to eat her home cooking, and perhaps even getting tucked in at night to accept another kiss. I got to go home, check on my own mother, make her a meal, tuck her in and get on the tips of my toes to touch my forehead to hers. Kurosaki didn't get that. Then again, his mother's death wasn't looming over his head, which is where my envy was probably rooted at.

Still, we aren't talking about my withering mother. We were talking about Kurosaki.

I can recall our first meeting with the same clarity as the image of the back of my hand. Or Kurosaki's hand.

It was winter, and it was cold as shit. I wanted to wear my big blue sweater my mom bought for me when she was in the States, but I left it behind by accident. Saying goodbye to mom took longer than expected that day and I breathlessly tried to make it to school before everyone took their seats. Before they took my seat and sabotaged it. Again.

Yeah, I was a real pussy back then. A big cry baby, a momma's boy. I was exactly what I'm not now.

Anyway, right as I sat down in my little red seat various paper balls and spit balls pelted the back of my head until recess. I didn't have to turn around to see who it was. Aside from hearing that slick, creepy voice laughing, I needed no more evidence to know that Ichimaru was at it again for the fourth time this week (and it was only Wednesday). He was a bully and his friends were too. There was some kid with pinkish hair and golden eyes whose name was so foreign I could never remember it, much less pronounce. There was one more, named Nnoitra. I couldn't tell you who was creepier: Gin Ichimaru or Nnoitra Jiruga—they were both so unnatural looking, it was unnerving.

I never understood why they picked on me when they clearly had some of their own issues to sort out. I guess me being a complete loner with a permanent scowl etched onto my face helped with their ambition.

It was quite annoying, let me tell you, being a little kid. Everything was a soft spot for me. Everything they did or said pushed my buttons, made my eyes well up and made me want to tell my mom. I always wondered how people could get pleasure from other people's displeasure; Mom told me that that was what made me a good person. Of course, I didn't believe her.

After our class time was spent, we lined up and made way for recess. Crisp, cold air singed my skin as I stepped out onto the half frozen playground. People all around me did not have the time of day to notice my dwindling comfort level, they were all too absorbed in the race for the set of vacant swings.

Well, it wasn't like no one noticed. There was still Gin.

"Whadda we got here? Ya cold, Grimm?"

That was what my mom called me. I hated it coming from them. It made my stomach churn and my face lighten two shades.

"Go away." I managed to assert two skittish words beyond my teeth, sounding light years away from the intimidation level I had in mind.

I watched timidly as Gin fisted the silvery snow and shaped it into a ball. He looked back and snickered to his friends. As he prepared to hurl the ball of snow at my face, I turned away ran towards the bare cherry blossom tree.

I felt the light pounding of snow smack my back, melting on my shirt. Another one was flung into the side of my head, hitting my ear and making it go cold and turn red. All I could do was muster up an irritated, tear filled grunt and walk away. I willed myself with every ounce of power to not cry. My frigid fists were balled up and I felt like my fingernails would draw blood from my palms.

I kept walking. The tree became bigger in my view as I stomped towards it, but I didn't make it there safely in time. Gin was at my heels, stepping on them until the backs of my shoes revealed my ankles. I turned around in his face and caught a quick glance of his ice cold eyes. He could never look me in the eye, but I never cared (and still don't) to find out why.

"Yer shoes are untied."

Don't look down, Grimmjow. He's lying, he wants you to fall for it. Don't do it.

"Tch. I thought I said go away." This was the first occasion I became brash. Looking back, I'm fairly certain I chose the wrong person.

"Oh, right." Gin's voice lowered too many octaves to count. I swallowed a golf ball of fear, my body went static.

However, thanks to Ichimaru, my body was in motion once again. My face was lobbed into the snow. I don't remember him pushing me, all I can recall now is his satisfied cackle.

"I'll go away now." I could hear a smile on his face before he walked away.

I laid there for a while, feeling the snow melting into my clothes and hair. I turned myself over to look at the sky and wait for recess to be over. My mind buzzed with my situation at hand, I mulled over Gin and his schoolmates.

Why they picked on me wasn't really a mystery, they bluntly ranted it in my face whenever they got the chance. It had started with my hair, people other than my tormentors called me unnatural and picked fights with me over that. It was either that or they ignored me completely like I didn't exist. My face turned blank over time and my efforts to socialize vanished along with my self-confidence.

But that day, my mundane routine hit a bump and soon enough, that provoked a domino effect. Kurosaki was evidently that bump.

My sight became vague and my ears went keen as sneakers in the snow came closer to me. I braced myself out of paranoia, fearing it to be Gin again, clenching my fists and squeezing my eyes shut.

"Hey." Kurosaki poked my head with the toe of his shoe and my eyes cracked open. His head blocked the sun from my face and all I could selectively see was his eyes. Brown orbs looked me up and down. They were so full, seemingly too big for his face but warm and fitting. I lost myself for a second in them before they came back to meet mine. I imagined he did the same thing to me, although not nearly as impressed.

I didn't move or respond, instead I chose to stare at him from the ground until he broke the silence. "Your shoes. They're untied." I sat up, looking at my disheveled shoes. I stayed silent and fixed the backs of my shoes then tied them up before collapsing back onto the snow. I closed my eyes again, hoping Kurosaki would take the hint and leave me be, but he was persistent. A few minutes passed us and I could tell that he was not absent.

Snow crunching and compacting next to me filled my ears and Kurosaki's warmth radiated onto me. "I'm Ichigo."

I ignored him.

"What's your name?"

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"Go away," I finally said.

"That's a weird name."

Oh, come on.

Kurosaki remained next to me for some time. Recess had to have been coming to an end soon, I wondered what had this kid so entwined in my personal bubble.

"Grimmjow?" My name. He knows my name. What the hell.

I breathed out my nose and opened my eyes. "What?"

"Why are Gin and his friends mean to you?"

It was a good question. I gave him that. But I didn't really have a good answer. "My hair, I guess."

"Are they jealous?"

"What? No. They think I look funny."

"It's not funny to me."

"Good for you."

"I think it looks cool."

That was the first time I ever received a compliment from anyone other than my own family. I wasn't really sure how to act. Do I say thank you? Am I supposed to return the admiration?

OK, remember how I said everything was a soft spot for me? Well, Kurosaki saying something generous to me turned my insides to pudding, I realized then that I didn't care if he meant it. It was just nice to hear it. Yet hearing the way his voice declared it told me that he did indeed mean it.

My cheeks flushed and my speech altered. I boldly went for returning the compliment. "I like your... hair too."

"Thanks."

More silence crept in between us, this time much more pregnant. We both laid there until recess was dismissed. When the whistle blew and kids organized themselves back into line, I was helped up to my feet by Kurosaki.

"Hey, uh," Kurosaki fidgeted and I watched, hopeful in his next words. "Do you wanna play tomorrow?"

He must have seen the light ignite in my eyes, because before I could relay an answer, his face lit up with its signature smile.

"Y-Yeah."

"Cool. See you tomorrow, Grimmjow."

I gazed in place at Kurosaki's diminishing figure before being shuffled into place by my teacher.

I learned something for the first time about Kurosaki that day.

I liked hearing him say my name, almost like how I liked my mother saying it. It made me warm all the way down to my fingertips when my mother spoke my name, but when he said it, butterflies crowded my stomach and made me on all fidgety, anxious, and curious.


Inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are. -Anthony Marra


This was the time in my life when I learned that I didn't like waiting. However, looking back at this moment, I like to believe that I had every right to be impatient.

It had been five minutes since recess began. It didn't seem like much, but I was on a tight schedule. Kurosaki hadn't shown like he said he would and I was getting antsy. I replayed his words from the day before over and over, verifying our rendezvous.

"By the cherry tree when recess starts, kay? I'll beatcha' there!"

For the record, I won that race.

If he remembered that he was supposed to play with me that day and actually showed up, then he probably should have been prepared for an earful. I was beyond impatient, but at least there was reasoning behind my rudeness: Gin, Nnoi and Szayel. Their occurrence was an everyday thing, and I was kind of hoping Kurosaki would be my savior, giving me a day off.

Time was passing and I knew that my hopes would be flushed down the toilet. I could tell this by the looks I was receiving from my bullies. When they caught my glance, their attention was peaked. I shivered and watched as they approached me. My arms crossed over my heaving chest and I stared down at the ground submissively.

It sure would be a nice time for Kurosaki to show up. Too bad Lady Luck wasn't siding with me—big surprise there.

"Hey, Grimmjow!" Nnoitra started this time, his fake smile and hand wave was laughable. I wanted to beat the crap out of them so badly, but more than that I just wanted them to leave me alone.

Sticking to my usual cowardice, I replied in silence. It always provoked them more than talking would have.

"Grimmjow! Hey!" Nnoitra was in my space now, bending down with his head craned to see my downed face. I could smell his breath and feel his warmth. It was gross.

More silence initiated the first smack to my shoulder making me flinch harder than natural. Gin edged closer to me along with Szayel, creating a half circle around me against the tree.

I grabbed my shoulder where Nnoitra slapped me. My eyes began to well up but it wasn't because of the fresh stinging pain—Kurosaki had failed to show up and I was more disappointed than anything at that point. I just wanted to have a savior to rescue me from these punks.

Finally, I snapped, at the wrong time.

"Leave me alone!"

The entire playground went quiet for a few seconds, birds flew, the works. I was sobbing furiously.

No words were exchanged then, but only because they didn't have to be. All four of us knew what was coming next. I braced myself, but not quickly enough to block the hard punch to my teeth that caused the back of my head to slam against the tree. I saw stars before getting a kick to my shin and two more punches to my gut. All three of them were at it and not one soul seemed to notice. Not even Kurosaki. I didn't even fight back, it would only make my fresh cuts and bruises more abundant.

Eventually, I fell down to the ground and laid in the fetal position, accepting only kicks at that point. My sobs were so strong that I could hardly breathe right, and all I could taste was salt and that weird metallic taste of blood.

It was times like this when I would shut my mind off, almost like a self-destruct system. I just laid there limply and silent, my eyebrows relaxed and my tears stopped.

"Get away from him!" My eyes opened to the sight of Kurosaki finally avenging me by picking off my tormentors. He didn't hurt them, he just grabbed them and jerked them away from me. I scurried to my feet as it all went down, my chest heaving.

"Finally made a friend eh?" Gin said, backing away from me slowly. I watched intently as Kurosaki and he passed mean scowls at each other. "Ain't that neat." He winked at me and smiled before slowly turning around and making his way elsewhere. Thankfully.

"Grimmjow..." Kurosaki looked me up and down. I did the same, noticing the expected welts covering my legs. "Your lip is bleeding too!" he cried, hovering his fingers in front of my lips.

I touched the back of my hand to my mouth, and sure enough, blood was there. "Tch." My tough act may had been deceiving then, but by now Kurosaki could always see through it.

"A-Are you okay?!"

I stared at my shoes kicking the snow, trying to ignore my burning face and throbbing legs. "I'm used to it."

"No," Kurosaki looked more upset by it than me. Frankly, I was taken aback. "It wasn't like this before."

I knew what he meant, but I refused to play along. The last thing I wanted was pity but I couldn't bring myself to argue with him. He was completely right.

"What happened?" Like a caring mother was the only thing running through my brain in that moment—how cheesy.

"I, uh," my voice creaked and cracked from all my sobbing. I picked through my head for an answer to his question. I needed to answer that for myself before telling him. "I yelled at them."

"Oh. That was you?"

A pang of anger ripped through me then. Knowing that Kurosaki was in earshot of my voice and remained unresponsive irked me. "Yeah. Where were you at?" My irritation leaked out into my words, Kurosaki noticed it; and when he did I felt regret seep its way into me.

"I was telling my friends where I would be..."

"Oh."

"You were waiting for me?"

"Duh."

"I'm sorry."

Okay, yeah. I'd gone through a beating that left me crying like a pansy with my face in the snow, but seeing Kurosaki apologizing the way he did put a bullet through my heart, made me feel like he was the victim and not the other way around. I don't know how, but he's always been good at that sort of thing and it kills me.

"Shut up." I didn't want his pity. I hate it when he feels sorry for me. It's like I'm a helpless little girl. So, of course, I put on my tough face. "Are we gonna go play or what?"

Like a light switch, Kurosaki went from feeling sorry for me to grinning from ear to ear and pulling me along to the playground. It had always been better when he's like this.

From then on, I didn't have to worry about Gin and the others as much. Kurosaki had later declared that, apparently, he would beat any of them up if they tried to do anything to me again. I held him to that promise. I still don't regret it.

I'll admit that he was a bit tardy in my life, but I'm not complaining. I can't, not when my world had been painted three shades lighter.