He groaned, rolling over and pressing his face against the cool tile of his bathroom floor. His head pounded, the feeling thudding straight through his bones as his eyes ached and he felt so violently sick that he couldn't even move if he were to up-heave.
Moaning in pain, Ichigo struggled to push himself up on his wobbly arms, elbows popping as they straighten out. His head throbbed and his throat felt raw, the memories from the previous night trying to infiltrate his mind once more. His fingers wrapped around the edge of the tub, steadying himself as he held down whatever could possibly be in his stomach.
His eyes ran over the room slowly, the slight movement making his migraine worse. His limbs were freezing, the chill of the tile not helping at all. The light above him was shattered, the remains of the light bulb littering the spot in front of him. The rays that peak in through the small window above him tell him one piece of good news, it's morning...no more darkness for now.
Ichigo sighed, pressing a hand against his forehead as he stood, albeit shakily and stood in front of the sink. He gazed into the mirror, taking note of the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and the two slices against his cheek; probably from the broken light bulb.
He leaned down, turning the sink on and splashing some luke-warm water against his face.
"It's over, Ichigo." He told himself, feeling like a pansy. Now for some breakfast and off to the club for a sound check. He nodded, promising to keep his mind off last nights.. events.
"Holy hell! You look like shit!"
"Holy shit! You look like hell!"
Ichigo rolled his eyes, pushing some hair away from his forehead. "Thanks for the compliments you fucking nitwits, let's go. I'm on a short fuse today."
Uryu placed his, now cleaned-, glasses back against his nose, smacking Shinji and Renji upside their heads. "Idiots."
Shinji and Renji shot Uryu a look of confusion, although they knew exactly why they'd gotten smacked. Slightly concerned for the orange-haired lead, Uryu glances over at him, "What happened?"
Ichigo continued over to the mic, slinging his guitar over his shoulder, the weight feeling heavier than normal, probably from no sleep. "Nothing. I just didn't get any sleep." he said, glaring down at the floor as the memories drifted through his sleep-clouded mind.
The redhead grinned as he plopped down onto his seat, drumsticks resting in his hands, "Pick up someone on the way home?"
Ichigo didn't even respond, the grip on the neck of his guitar making his knuckles turn white, threatening to snap the instrument in half. "Would you just shut the hell up?"
The stage silenced.
"Woah, Ichigo, just calm down a'ight? Sheesh.." Renji adjusted his drums, his eyes revealing lust as he gazed at the dancing bodies thumping to the music on the dance club below them.
Shinji glared, playing an off key on his instrument, causing the amp next to Renji's ear to let out an eerily ear-splitting noise.
"OW! What the fuck Shinji?" He smirked, shaking his head.
"Nothing, Re~"
Ichigo opened his mouth to holler at the blonde haired idiot as the bass thumped through his shoes and shook his already disheveled brain before a low, sultry voice called out from above them.
"Yo! Strawberry! Get yer' ass up here."
He let out a groan as a guitar chord ripped through the speakers, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair before sliding his guitar off his shoulders and placing it on it's stand. "Be right back.." He mumbled, his voice covered over the deep, flowing music from the speakers as he headed up the stairs backstage.
"Yes, Aizen?"
"There is someone I would like you to meet."
Ichigo raises an eyebrow, looking at the elder man in complete and utter confusion. Yet, Aizen said nothing, just turned toward the door and opened it, ushering Ichigo in. Without hesitation, Ichigo walks inside of the room decorated in whites, greys, and blacks. The door shuts behind them and Aizen strides over to one of the leather chairs near his desk, the back of another man to him.
His heart instantly was in his throat and his heartbeat in his ears, as said man stands up, turning around and flashing his eyes at him. Taking a solid step back, he opens his mouth slightly, familiarity coming off of this man in waves. Ichigo glances at Aizen, "Who's this?"
"Ichigo, this is Ulquiorra." Aizen spoke lowly, a polite yet cautious air to his husky voice as he motioned for Ichigo to take a seat next to the pale guest as Aizen moved to sit behind his mahogany desk. Aizen's office was above the stage, shrouded in black, inside and out. The only thing of colour in Aizen's office was his pristine white suit; the rest was all black or dark brown; a mahogany desk, black chairs, black plush floors and black walls with steel windows showing the dance floor and the flashing lights.
"Pleasure," Ichigo nodded curtly, refusing the seat that Aizen offered with a shake of his head.
Ulquiorra placed his hand back down against his side, dropping it before he even held it out. He tucked his suit jacket back against his sides and sat down on the black leather chair. "Ichigo, may I call you Ichigo?" Ulquiorra was a pale man, his green eyes like poison acid as scars ran straight down from his eyes to his chin; as if he was in eternal sorrow. Ulquiorra was dressed to the nines, a dark black suit, with a green-turquoise shirt that matched his eyes, accompanied by a plain white tie. His slacks were a dark black as well as his shoes; he blended in with the decorum, Ichigo thought ironically.
"Well, Ichigo," he turned, his eyes boring into the others, almost as if it was a doorway to his darkest secrets. "My master requires you at our Château."
A slim orange eyebrow rises, suspicion and disbelief clearly spread out on his countenance. "You're serious?" Not so much as a shake of the head or a brief laugh answers him...just silence. Ichigo chuckles darkly, spitefully at Ulquiorra. "You're crazy!"
He pivots on his heel, reaching for the door to leave. Giving a quick glance over the shoulder, he gives a last shake of the head, storming out and down the stairs, the door clicking shut. Ichigo's boots thud heavily on each step with defiance and a slight tint of anger. Thoughts shot through his skull, slamming into each other and splintering off curses that slipped from his lips in murmurs.
"This is ridiculous." he mumbled, the only coherent sentence out of it all. As he got to the end of the stairs, he glanced back up at the office and scoffs before he takes that final step onto the stage.
Ichigo let out a small, gruff sigh as his eyes gazed around the stage at the gyrating bodies, and sequin dresses that reflected the strobe lights up over head. Music pounded against the floor, the bass being felt against peoples feet and up their spine. Drink after drink was passed around, the bartenders filling and mixing odd coloured concoctions to have people hanging over head and smashing their lips against the person closest to them; which, at this point in the night, that person would practically have to be in your lap to be considered "close."
He sighed, closing his eyes, grateful for being behind the pitch black curtain at the edge of the stage. He knew he had a few minutes before the rest of the band would get on stage with him, so he allowed his thoughts to wander to the strange guest viewing him from Aizen's window, unknowingly.
With a shake of his head, Ichigo roused himself from his thoughts, moving to take a step onto the stage, grabbing a hand to pull the curtain back.
A hand slid over his mouth, and with a jolt, Ichigo was pulled back against a broad, muscular chest. A deep, sensuous voice rumbled against his ear, hairs sticking up on the back of Ichigo's neck as fear shot through his heart and his throat ran dry; his emotions conflicting as they bashed against his skull with the pounding of his heart.
Who was this person? What did they want?
"Ichigo.." the voice purred, black starting to crawl against the edges of the orange haired adult's vision. "You're mine now." With a sharp nip to his ear, Ichigo fell limp to the darkness of his mind, his vision going completely back as he sagged against his captures arms, his arms and legs stilling before could even put up a fight; his body having gone tense and stock-still with fear.
"Hmh."
"That was such a rash thing to do." A voice spoke calmly, with a harsh undertone as voices began to seep into his consciousness.
~!Haveyouseenthemyet?Theyarethere..Ipromise!~
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