Title: Abused
Author: Hollowshirosaki413\D.R. Ward
Date: 1-19-13

Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki was a teen that was constantly beaten due to the fact that he was gay. He was a nothing; he was something that has been thrown to the side not by just the school population, but his parents also. But when his middle school crush, Grimmjow, swoops in and saves the day, what's going to stop him from pursuing his dream?

A\N: Well, I ended up re-doing this chapter for the first time – the date is 5-18-13. I plan on re-constructing this whole series, so I advise you, before reading the updated chapters, to go back and read these just in case I changed some factors within the story. I hope you like this more than my first story, I hope for a better success! Please, enjoy and review if you guys have time! I would appreciate it and think of you in a lot better light then I would with people who fav and get it over with. X3

Abused
Ichigo Kurosaki POV

~oOo~

I tried to catch my body as I saw the concrete coming closer and closer to my face, as if in slow motion, but my arms were rendered useless and a sickening crack next waved in the air. I hissed, an animalistic sound passing my lips as a jolt of pain disappeared from my outer core to my inner; I desperately wanted to fight back – but I knew that would draw too much attention to my body. So here I lay, like many times before, with a group of gangsters surrounding me with sickening smirks on their face. All of them hated gays – all of them hated me. And as much as I hated them back, I never lifted one finger against them. I knew I shouldn't. So I didn't.

A kick to the side of my ribs caused a howl to escape my bleeding lips, my eyes wide and popping as I try to find an escape from the pain. My thought, even though battered, were clear as day. Previous wounds I had either opened or bruised over again. My head was aching and I was wondering, silently, if there was any Ibprophin that happened to be lying around so I could smuggle it.

The head gangster, or leader, scowled and called me disgusting over and over as they kicked and jabbed and laughed. I fought the need to cry; after so long those words still burned a scalding piece of wool inside of me, making me feel like a useless piece of shit that walked the world even when they should not. They called me evil, a pawn of the devil, a freaky piece of shit that shouldn't even be alive – they called me anything and everything they could possibly think of.

There were around seven of them. Even with the blood invading my eyes, I could see blurred figures, but I could hear them better. Whenever I was beaten my eyesight was torn from me but my hearing was as acute as ever – it was the best aspect I had.

I felt another metal-cased shoe force its way under my hipbone. I cried out, scared for my life, as the others hounded on my ribs, but there was nothing I could do, nothing I can used against them to protect myself. I had nothing; there wasn't anything that could protect me. Money, I didn't have any. Friends, I had none. Allies, no one would even think about it. Strength, I had it, but I didn't use it – and now I'm sure that with all these injures I couldn't use it if I tried. Anger, I had it, but there was nothing I could use to let it go. I was, literally and figuratively, alone.

And it felt horrible.

"Ya piece of shit gay kid…Fucker's like ya ruin the world…" The Leader snarled. Everyone else showed their agreement by wooing or something of the sort, leaving me able to do nothing but groan. It hurt. Really, really bad – it hurt. I wanted to go crawl in a hole and die, never, ever to return. But I knew I couldn't. They wouldn't have me to hound on anymore, and those idiots would go find some other helpless gay man or women to beat up. Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

"God, ya annoy meh…." One of the others growled. The leader let out a hysterical laugh. It showed that he agreed.

I felt another harsh kick and a few more harsh jabs before they got tired of me. One spit on me, then another, and then the remaining six or seven and by the time they were done, my face was covered in their disgusting, sticky saliva. I wanted to throw up, oh, how I did, but I couldn't. It would hurt my stomach. Footsteps then descended away; hopefully far, far away, their voices carrying down and then out of the alley. When their voices faded completely, I waited a few more minutes before I tried to move.

The concrete was cold, anyway. That would help my wounds.

A scowl and a cough escaped the battered lips that I owned, sending my scratchy throat in a whole new whirlwind of pain. A bit of blood splattered on the floor because of it as well, and I had to wonder how in the hell I managed to bite the inside of my mouth so much to get it to bleed as much as it was. Carefully, I drug myself to the wall, making sure I kept my breathing slow and shallow and my stomach off of the ground. My hands were all wobbly as I did so. At lease the alley wall was cool – it felt good on my bruising cheek and my aching mind.

The world around me was quiet and I was glad for it. Sounds would just bring an ache to my mind. I would not like that in the least. My head was already aching and my bones were already shaking – I was broken in the middle of the night. I had no clue as to how I was going to get home – or even if I would. Sitting here, the blood would just continue flowing and it wouldn't stop….Would I bleed to death out here, in the cold? Will they have finally done it?

It's never been this bad before. Usually I was able to get up and walk away – truthfully with a limp, but I was still able to do so. This scared me. Was I going to die here? Would I finally fall into the hands of eternal sleep? Maybe I would escape this world….But would I go to hell? Everything thought so; everyone thought every homosexual would eventually be consumed in flames. Maybe I would too. But it couldn't hurt as much as I was hurting now.

I took a deep breath and leaned further into the cool, soothing brick. Just as I groaned, I felt whatever vision I owned blurring, and the next thing I knew, my frame was collapsing….

The last thing I heard was a deranged growl.

~oOo~

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques POV

When I walked past the alleyway I didn't expect what I saw.

Ichigo Kurosaki, a gay kid at my school was sitting on a wall, groaning and muttering to himself about how much it hurt. At first I didn't understand what the kid was talking about, but as I stopped and took a few steps into the alley, my cobalt blue eyes widened dramatically.

The kid looked horrible.

There were innumerable splotches of blood and continuous scratches and bruises that aligned his once bright skin, and his shirt was ripped in so many places that I couldn't even really tell there was a shirt. His pants were dirty and old-looking. I frowned and stepped in a bit further. This kid looked like he had a number done on him. It was probably because of that stupid gang – what was it – MK5 or something like that? What a fucking stupid name if you ask me.

I shook my head. I shouldn't be thinking about whatever happened to this kid, I should be calling Szayel right away. Oh fuck me. I was too tired for this shit. Oh well, the guy was going to die and hey, I don't want this sweet ass to die on my account. So….

Five minutes later that pink-haired prick arrived.

"Get him in the car. We'll fix him up – he's in a terrible state right now." Szayel gave me a look that said 'what the fuck are you doing' but I only shrugged and put my hands in my light grey, worn out jeans. I followed his instructions. Carefully, I lifted Kurosaki into my arms, making sure his limp body wasn't in any way harmed. Seconds later I was putting him in the backseat of his car that I brought him for emergencies – making sure the body was comfortable, of course. Can't have the strawberry bleeding out on me, can I?

After placing him in the car, I moved to the passenger's seat while the pink-haired scientist\doctor got in the drivers. He started the car and pulled away from the curb with flickering lights on the side – what was Ichigo doing in a place like this, anyway? – And settled in for the right. Me – why I was here – was because I just had a meeting with my own gang, and we ended up having to come here because of some stupid ass fuck up. But that wasn't the point.

"Mind telling me, Grimmjow, why we picked up some random kid because he was beat up?" The drive, Szayel, scowled and raised an eyebrow in my direction. I could only scoff.

"Because, fucker, I wanted ta. Besides, I kno' him." A scowl appeared in my features. "A little." I added at the end, because just because he was in my classes didn't mean I actually knew him.

Szayel gave me another look. I ignored it.

It was silent the rest of the way home.

~oOo~

Ichigo Kurosaki POV

When I awoke from my sleep, the first thing I noticed was pure, solid flickers of white. My eyes were blurred and my head was aching, but I ignored that as I slowly blinked. Where was I? Surely I was not in my own home – my own home was a lot smaller and dirtier. Maybe I was in an insane asylum. It wouldn't be put past me that I was considered insane, because plenty of people seemed to think so. But this also didn't look that scary. Maybe….Hell, I had no clue where I was.

There weren't many things stationed around the room. My aching neck swiveled around the pillow because I was too sore to lift myself up – not to mention my midsection felt like a pile of shit – and I noticed there were miscellaneous paintings all over the place. Some were dark and dreary and some were light on the walls; it was really beautiful. A mahogany dresser was stationed on the wall to the right of the door, with a bouquet of flowers proudly sitting atop of the mass of wood. Then, as I glance to the right, there was a mass of medical supplies sitting on a metal table. I knew, though, that I wasn't in a hospital because….Because it really didn't look one.

And I knew, I knew for sure, where I was the second I turned towards the dresser on my left.

There was a picture. It had beautiful lining of the most wonderful of wood, but as I notice and gather what the hell it was, I realized that none other than Grimmjow Jeagerjaques was in there. He was young, maybe elementary school years, as I notice his facial features. They weren't grown in like they were now. And he was also short – possibly the shortest out of the group of friends he was surrounded with. I could easily pick out Nnoitra – that stick of a man – and Grimmjow's sister, Nel. I didn't know the long haired, brown eyed man who looked a little bit older – I think he was in highschool at the time. Or at least he appeared to be, sort of. Ulquiorra, Grimmjow's lackey and gang-manager-type-thing was staring emotionlessly as the picture, as if he was staring into my very soul.

I shiver. The picture was happy, but he made it kind of creepy.

I bit my lip and glanced around again. So this was Grimmjow's home? Why the hell was I here? Did he pick me up? Why would he? So many questions spurred around inside of my head, so many cogwheels spinning and turning as I try to figure out the reason I was here. But, trying, I still couldn't figure out why.

I groaned. My head was beginning to hurt again.

"Pain relievers are on the nightstand."

I jumped at the high-pitched voice that swallowed the silence. Shocked, I whipped my head towards the door, immediately regretting it as I become dizzy from the quick turn. However I blink it away. At the doorway, resting on the side was a pink-haired man who, I might add, had an arrogant aroma surrounding him. I frowned and nodded, wondering who this guy was. Was he a friend of Grimmjow's? I've never seen him before. And trust me – I should know. There is a reason I know the name Jeagerjaques, after all.

"Thank you…." I drift and I bite my lip. Instead of reaching for the pills, I stiffen and do nothing, still too scared and sore to sit up.

The man in front of me sighed. "My name is Szayel. I was the guy Grimmjow called to patch you up." The pink-haired man with glasses smiled slightly and stepped forward, closing the door. I flinched as it shut. "You have a fractured rib and a nasty fit of bruises that are scattered along your body, as well as a fractured wrist. Nothing's broken." I sighed in relief. It could have been much worse, I guessed, so I was glad with the report that this man – Szayel, had given me.

"T-Thank you. I'm Ichi –…" the man cut me off before I could reply.

"Ichigo Kurosaki. Grimmjow told me about you." Szayel looked sympathic. "Such a sad story – I do envy you. There is nothing wrong with liking men, I think, either." I bit my lips and wondered how Grimmjow knew anything about me, but then, everyone did. No one like this disgusting disease I had. Homosexuality – yeah, it's totally a disease. Though, I was overjoyed to hear that at least this pink-haired man didn't care about my preferences, even if he was a little weird. I smiled slightly.

"Thank you very much, Szayel. For everything. Not many people are willing to look after me."

Szayel scoffed but smiled all the same. "Thank Grimmjow. He was the one who called me. Speaking of….He should want to talk to you. I will call him." At the news about calling Grimmjow was given to me, I scowled and glanced in the other direction, now, once again, uncomfortable. I took a deep breath. It's alright, Ichigo, you can do this. It's only the crush that you have been addicted to ever since you found out you were gay. No, nothings up, you should be able to handle this all right.

Yeah, right, totally.

"A-All right. Thanks again."

Szayel left without another word.

When the door closed, I panicked. I couldn't believe that Grimmjow was coming into this room – even if he owned it – to see me. I was freaking out. Was I good enough for me to see him? Did I deserve to see him? I had already been such a disturbance in his life; I should get out of it as soon as I can. Damn it, what was I going to say? Thank you for saving me from a near death experience and I'll get out of your way as soon as I can – as a matter of fact, right now? That shit wouldn't go down well, I just knew it.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

So I did something I knew I was going to do. Take the pain-killers. Szayel was also nice enough to set a glass of water down, but I didn't want to choke so I just swallowed them dry. And then I waited.

I stared at the ceiling long and hard, wondering what the hell Grimmjow was going to say or do. Was he going to hit me? I wouldn't put it past him fixing me up only so he could fight me. But would he really do that? I wasn't sure. I shivered. It was pretty cold in here. Even with the drapes from the window on the left side of the room pulled over the glass, it was still chilly for it to be March. Most would blame it on global warming, but I blame it on us humans. I mean, we're stupid enough to fuck up the environment like it was.

Idiots.

I closed my eyes and took yet another deep breath. I still couldn't move, my body felt horrible and cramped and – how long does it take for a fracture to heal? I wasn't entirely sure. A month? Three months? It was sure to be quite a while. And the bruises, oh, I've dealt with those. They won't heal for a good month or so, and the scratches and the stiches, eh, about two months on average. God, this really was the worst beat-down I've had in a while.

I heard the door creak open for the second time of the night. I knew that right away it was Grimmjow, and, instead of looking at him, I decided to direct my gaze to the purple bed-sheets. They were quite shiny and silky, now that I thought about it. And the black under-draperies, they were pretty nice against his skin….It was kind of like royalty. I inwardly snorted. Yeah, Grimmjow was dirt-ass rich. If I didn't wish that I could be with him so much, I probably would wish that I was him. Grimmjow's footsteps echoed in the big room. The sheets kept looking more appealing at the moment went by. More footsteps ensued. The sheets were even more beautiful. The footsteps stopped and from my peripheral vision, I could see his light-jean-clad legs. I gulped.

"How ya feelin'?" I jumped when Grimmjow suddenly spoke. This made me flustered and not a second later I found myself sputtering into the sheets that were covering me. His voice, like a damned heaven, sent welcoming shivers down the base of my spine, and I found that I had to keep myself in check just so Grimmjow wasn't in grave danger of being harassed.

"I-I'm fine, thank you s-so much, I mean, yeah, uh, I'm Ichi-Ichigo, if you don't a-already know and –…." Grimmjow cut me off with a sigh. Good, at least he saved me from my own embarrassment.

"Ichigo Kurosaki. Yeah. I kno' of ya. They really did a number on ya, huh?" The awkwardness was over nine-thousand, as people would say. I gulped.

"W-Worse than usual, yeah…." I found myself responding. Oh shit, did that sound like I was bragging? Damn it, Ichigo, hold yourself together!

"Damn straight, those fuckers." Grimmjow sounded a little bit man. I shook my head. I was probably reading too much into it.

"I appreciate the help, I really do. Not many people have the guts to do so." I sigh contently as I, quite reluctantly, glance into the eyes of my savior. Grimmjow seemed surprised by the actions I had done, but instead of calling me out for it, he simply shut his mouth and shook his head.

"Nah, it's all good."

He really didn't seem like he understood the circumstances from helping me – at least no one, or a very tiny amount, of people saw him walk into the alley. So instead of trying to communicate with looks, I spoke. "You're lucky no one saw you, Jeagerjaq–…."

"Grimmjow."

I coughed. My body still ached. But at least, I think, the pain medication was working – hopefully. "G-Grimmjow." It felt a tiny bit weird using his name. "If they did, or, at least the Guys, you would have trouble." My fingers clenched in the sheets once more. He wouldn't have trouble with them, as much, but he would have trouble with the rumors and the blatant disgust towards him having….Having saved someone of my caliber.

"Keh. Like I care." Grimmjow answered me, his hands coming up his thighs as I watch the seductive motion until they disappeared in his pockets, the dry-washed light blue jeaned crinkling in the manner. I shivered and remembered that I couldn't get my hopes or thoughts anywhere near wanting Grimmjow – I've done that for years and it's gotten me nowhere. Well, I mean, I know that he didn't exactly know either and still probably doesn't, but if I keep on looking at him like I was he was for sure going to know.

I frowned but decided not to argue with him. My head hurt a little bit and as hard headed as Grimmjow was I was sure our argument could go one forever. In place of talking I nodded and smiled slightly at him, my lips twisting in a foreign type of action that I was un-used to. The bluenette seemed to notice this too because not a second later he commented on it.

"Ya don't seem like yer used ta smilin'."

I brought my – Grimmjow's – covers up to my face as a blush overwhelming my features. With a cough and a petulant glance to the side, I replied. "N-Not really." I wanted to kick myself in the ass for agreeing with him. Alas, I couldn't, especially with how much my body hurt. And I was really tired, as well….It was quiet.

Grimmjow sighed. His feet shuffled on the expensive carpeted floor that his dad or mother or whatever owned. The bluenette's aura cast off plenty of annoyed vibes, and feeling those seep into my skin, I pull the covers up past my nose to conceal my embarrassment. Seconds later Grimmjow ruffled his hair as he shifted feet, causing me to glance back him and the movement he made.

"Well, foods ready. Do ya need some help gettin' up? And no one's home – probably won't be fer awhile."

I took the information in gradually. G-Grimmjow? A-And me? Alone? In his house? Eating food? I must have done something right in my past life or something because this was my made up dream for….For as long as I can remember. I mean, grade school, middle, and now high….

Elementary

Journal Entry 1: August 30, 2007

I watched Grimmjow walk by for the third time today. He was a transfer from Germany and had a heavy accent. I liked him. I didn't know why – but I did. Maybe it was his attitude or something, I don't know….But I liked him. Journal, why is that? Why does my heart pound for him and my brain long for him? I really….I really want to….To talk to him, but Journal, I'm so scared. What if he beats me like all the others? What if he becomes a regular bully?

It's better if he didn't know who I was.

Middle

Journal Entry 1: December 29, 2010

Renji and them just don't know when to stop. They beat me again today and it hurt really, really bad, and now my body won't function right. I can't stand up, I can't feel my legs, and I'm sitting in the middle of an alley with nothing to do but drag myself into a box of a home. School is getting harder with them here. They will find me at random times and beat me up and I'm getting scared for my life. Journal, what am I going to do? I don't understand them. What's wrong with liking men? Why was it a social evil? God must hate us.

Maybe, Journal, maybe I should've given up long ago. Maybe I should have ended my misery when I was born, a year old, two, or so on and so on. Because it's hard to live like this – even the school hates me even though they pay for my schooling….Maybe I should've died. Maybe I should still kill myself. I should, shouldn't I? It's not like anyone would miss me.

Journal Entry 2: January 5, 2010

When I came back to school, everyone ignored me, like always. But I could feel a stare on my back – unlike all the ones of hatred. It was that of curiosity. I couldn't figure out who it was. When I glanced around, albeit very, very, very carefully, with my head down and my bangs covering my face, no one was staring or anything. But I could still feel it. Journal, what is this tingly feeling? It's kind of scary, but it's welcoming in all the same.

When I got out of class I turned just in time to see electric blue eyes out of the corner of my eyes.

I shivered, Journal.

It was probably my imagination.

High

First Year – Journal Entry 1: My Last. September 16, 2013

I don't have any more pages, Journal. My pencil is only a nub and I've used the fronts and backs and every little piece of white paper I could find….But this is the last page. I'm sorry, Journal, I will have to stop writing in you. Even if you stayed with me all this time, I'm afraid I have to abandon my pages. I thought, Journal, about trying to find a place to burn you so no one will ever find my words, like they would care, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Instead, you're staying with me. Maybe I'll look after you from time to time….

Goodbye.

I gulped at the memory and closed my eyes. I knew exactly where my journal was and as I usually carry it around me, I knew I didn't feel that familiar little twinge in the inside pocket of my sweater. I didn't even have my sweater on.

Oh, no. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.

Food be damned.

He couldn't have seen it, could he?

"G-G-G-Grimmjow!" I stutter quite loudly as I suddenly sit up, ignoring the jolting cry of pain I let out from my ribs. Instead I lifted my frail arm and pounded against where my journal should be and where it would rest in my jacket, but it was not there. My breath pounded and my eyes widened dramatically as I stared at nothing in particular, still trying to find it. "W-Where is it?! Shit, no, where?!" I yelled in a whisper to myself rather than the bluenette who rushed to my side a few seconds ago. I didn't even notice.

"Hey, hey, hey! Stop movin'!" Grimmjow shouted as he grasped onto my wrists. I froze at the contact as my face snapped up to meet his calming gaze. My breathing slowed ever so slowly.

"W-Where is it…?" I whisper to him.

For a few seconds, Grimmjow didn't respond. The air was silent, and with the soundless aroma I felt my breath kicking up again. My eyes widened some more. They felt dry. "Hey, relax. Relax. Are you talking about this?" Our gazes met. I watched, perplexed and extremely worried, as Grimmjow pulled out an object from his pocket, which was later brought up to my face. Instantly I snatched the object out of his hands and grasped it against my chest, ignoring the flaming pain more and more. "I didn't read anythin', alrigh'? It's okay."

For some ungodly reason, I believed him. Ever so slightly, I nodded, and as I drop the book next to the nightstand, Grimmjow regains full height and sighs.

"Well come on, before the food gets cold."