A/N; I don't own Bleach (because if I did then Gin and Kira would be getting it on night and day…)
This takes place in the real world.
Chapter 1
Recurring Dream
Kira was having the dream again. That dream. He lay pinned to his bed, unable to move even if he had wanted to. But no, he did not want to move and he most certainly did not want the man on top of him to break their kiss.
Kira could never quite make out the man's face, but he was tall and thin with short, fine hair of palest lavender. His voice was soft like bells in winter, muffled as if through snow and darkness and icy air. Whenever the man said Kira's name it gave him the strangest feeling, a freefall plunge in the pit of his stomach and this weird familiarity, he swore he knew this man in waking life too, but he couldn't remember from where.
They lay locked in a passionate embrace, kissing as if they had but a few moments left before the nooses were knotted about their throats.
They fucked, hard. But it wasn't just sex; Kira could feel this man's soul, could feel the love radiating from within him, enveloping Kira, shielding him from doubt and fear and sadness, wrapping him in a warm glow he wished would never disappear. Kira wished, as always, that this time he wouldn't wake up.
Love was not something Kira experienced much in his waking life. He had a particular knack for letting himself be abandoned. Which was sad, since being abandoned and alone was his greatest fear. But he couldn't seem to help it. Maybe he attracted the wrong kind of people. Maybe he gave out the impression that he wasn't worth it. Whatever it was, he was sick of it. Sick of it all, the long and friendless days, the lonely nights spent crying himself to sleep, tears tracking down his pale face and neck, getting caught in his hair, his pillow perpetually damp.
The dreams had started about a year ago. At first only once a month or so, but then recurring more and more frequently until this mysterious man made love to Kira, comforted him, kissed away his tears and caressed his body and made him come every night.
Kira needed this man, needed him the way someone who's drowning needs air.
These dreams were the only thing keeping Kira from ending his life.
Tonight the dream seemed to last even longer than usual, the lilac-haired man drawing our their pleasure for hours, slow, deep and gentle. He kept pushing Kira closer and closer to the edge until he ached for completion, silently begging the man to let him come, the intensity of it consuming them. And when they finally reached climax, simultaneously as was so often the case, Kira cried out in his sleep, clutching the man even tighter, feeling himself filled, injected with the hot greasy-slick essence of his dream-lover.
Moments later Kira fell asleep (ironically still dreaming, and lucidly at that) while his dream-lover held him tight, warmly comforting him.
When Kira woke the next morning, still quite spent, there was a mess of come all over the sheets…
But he was used to that by now.
His as-yet-unknown lover always made him come. And though Kira had never had sex with anyone in his waking life, he seemed to know instinctively what to do, even from the first night when it had still been somewhat of a shock. This man knew exactly how to kiss him, how to touch him, everything he wanted without Kira ever having to ask for it. This man just knew. And Kira was glad to have at least one good thing to look forward to all day.
He had one good thing to cling to. Because the rest of his life was a mess.
God, it's my fault they fired me. he thought to himself as he got up to get ready for yet another grueling, disheartening day of job-hunting.
Kira had just been let go from his job at a coffee shop when the owner noticed the cuts on his wrists, too many and too straight for them to be 'accidental'.
"We can't have employees that might end up dead before their next shift, Kira. That's just not dependable. I'm sure you can understand that."
I should've remembered to wear a shirt with long sleeves.
He studied the cuts while he was in the shower. There were several on both wrists, all the way up the inside of his arms almost to his elbows.
He hadn't meant for it to get so out of control like this. He started cutting himself in 9th grade. It was something small, something he could hang on to, a way to punish himself that made him feel surprisingly, unexpectedly good. Really good. He'd always been able to hide it from his parents and teachers.
That was almost five years ago. Now he was 20, living on his own, barely speaking to any family more than once or twice a year. Not quite estranged, but close enough. Kira had never been that close to his family, so he didn't really care. It was the same loneliness that he'd felt ever since he could remember. He never let anyone get close to him, because he assumed every relationship was fated to end badly, so why bother?
As he stepped out of the shower he noticed the post-it note hanging crookedly from the lower left corner of the mirror.
"Kira- sorry this is such short notice, but I'm moving out at the end of the week. A gig came up back home, I can't pass it up, and they want me there as soon as possible. I'm sure you'll find another roommate soon though, just put a few ads in the paper. Good luck" and a smiley-face with x-ed out eyes simpered at the end of the sentence like an out-sized period.
Fuck me. People must think I like being abandoned or something.
He stood there still naked, dripping all over the floor, dumbfounded, the wind knocked right out of him.
What am I going to do? I could barely afford my half of the rent before, there's no way I could get it all covered now, even if I hadn't been fired.
He looked in the mirror, seeming to search his own eyes for the answer. But it eluded him.
And I seriously doubt I'll find a roommate in the next 3 days…
He sank to his knees, sobbing. He shivered and shook, trembling, hugging his arms tight about himself, spasming involuntarily.
He stayed like that a long time, his mind completely blank, tears seeming to spill from newfound, limitless depths.
Think.
If worst came to worst, he could stay in his car. It sure beat the hell out of sleeping outside.
That thought calmed him incrementally as he dried off the rest of the way, wiping tears from his now swollen eyes.
He finished getting dressed, brushed his teeth and went back to his bedroom to pack a few things, not all his stuff but then again he didn't have too much in the first place, mostly necessities. He packed enough clothes for about a week, then went in the bathroom and gathered all his toiletries. Then he locked the apartment as he left, tossed the backpack into the passenger seat of his beat-up teal 2-door sedan, and started driving. He didn't have any particular destination in mind, he just needed to get out of that damn apartment. He felt a little better as he turned the stereo up loud, relishing the angry, desperate Slipknot song which seemed to fit his mood to the letter.
Well maybe it's for the best. I hated that apartment anyway. John never cleaned up after himself. I sure as hell won't miss washing all the dishes and cleaning the bathroom and mowing the lawn.
He drove aimlessly through the next 2 songs, Avenged Sevenfold and Alice in Chains. Then a weird shop caught his eye. He was in a part of town he didn't usually pass through that often and the buildings weren't familiar. This particular building stood out from the other shops nearby because it was an almost neon shade of lavender-pink with a large painting of a grinning Cheshire cat covering most of the front window. The sign read 'The Mad Tea Party' in marigold glitter gothic script against black. Kira slowed to get a better look and then he noticed the black and white 'Help Wanted' sign taped to the door.
Why not? he thought, driving around back to find a parking space.