Loreto W/DramaticChipmunk/x615Butterflyx/azul renge/HazelGrey/OfeliaWolf/ShadowsOfPenAndPaper/luneta-star
Watch Me Remember
By Curiosity Killed Kristy
[Chapter 3: Improvement]
"Oni-chan! I'm so glad you're finally awake!"
"You worried me, my son!"
His family members. They were starting to give me a headache.
I leaned my head on the wall behind me. Blew out a breath of air, my hair lifting.
"Oyaji, seriously, stop. I'm fine!"
I glared at the tiling under my feet.
His voice was still the same, despite everything.
But what the hell was I expecting?
That everything about him would change just 'cause he forgot me?
"Ichi-nii, I thought you'd be taller by now, but you haven't changed at all."
"Shut up, Karin."
He sounded happy.
When were we ever happy?
Was there ever a time?
I sighed.
Found myself doing that more often than not.
Stood to my feet, my electric-blue eyes meeting Isshin's.
I didn't want that. Why the fuck would I?
Hated his fucking guts.
I stuffed my fists in my pockets; walked to get away from his stare.
He probably already knew. About Ichigo's condition.
Even if I didn't want him to find out, he would eventually.
"Ah, Grimmjow-kun. Wait one moment."
I grabbed a paper cup on top of a water dispenser. Poured some. Watched the drops fall.
"Can we talk for a minute?"
No, I don't want to speak with your ugly-as-fuck face.
"You want Ichigo to live with ya, or somethin'?" I grumbled, never breaking eye contact with my disfigured reflection on the water dispenser.
"Look, Grimmjow. You've been taking care of Ichigo all these years, and for that, I thank you. But, he needs his family right now-"
"No, if he had needed his family before, he would've called before all of this happened."
"Grimmjow, he's my son. He deserves at least this much." He eyed me with this stern, fatherly look.
Pissed me off.
Heat. Everywhere. "If Ichigo was the one deciding, I know he'd want what was best for him, and that's with me."
"He doesn't even remember you. What makes you think he'll want to stay?" He shook his head. Like I was a pity.
My fingers recoiled into my palm. A head of a turtle going back into its shell.
"'Cause Ichigo sacrificed his memory for me. What other fucking proof do you need?"
The cup in my hand crumpled. Water spilled from all sides.
He sighed. Ran fingers through his ebony hair.
Even had the nerve to place his filthy hand on my shoulder.
"Grimmjow, I understand how you feel so strongly about this. But Ichigo-"
"That's not for you to decide. You keep forgetting that Ichigo's an adult now. Twenty-three, at that. He can choose for himself without your help."
"I am his father. No matter how old he is, my duty is to protect him."
My chest tightened. Lips pulled back into a snarl.
"Tell me this, then, Isshin. What the hell ya protectin' him from? Last I remembered, you weren't there for him for the past five years," I growled.
"I know I haven't been. That's why I want to choose this time to redeem myself…"
I shrugged his hand off. He barely flinched.
He sighed. Frustration evident. "And don't think Ichigo hid the fact that you two were over."
My heart bounced.
So… He knew about the break-up.
"It was vague, but I could tell he was hurt. This is the kinda stuff I wanted to protect him from. I wanted to protect him from people like you."
Without a second to ponder; without even the slightest breath to rest, I had him pinned by the neck.
I could kill him if I wanted to.
…Then Ichigo would be all mine.
I fought a stare contest with the man. Black to blue.
And I saw it in him.
He purely detested me.
For taking his precious son away from him. Away from the family.
For corrupting him.
For straying him from the right path.
I knew that.
But I wish I hadn't.
My grip loosened around him. Air was finally available.
Isshin situated both palms on my shoulders. Patted them, even.
I stared at the tiling again. Fists shaking; fighting for control.
This was what Isshin was talking about.
My ability to lose against emotions.
"Ichigo will be omitted in the next couple of weeks. You should start distancing yourself. It'll save you the trouble of heartbreak. I don't want to do this, but Ichigo will be safer with me. You can say goodbye to him on the last day, but I don't recommend it."
Last pat. He's walking away. Leaving behind the slippery floor from the water I spilled.
Leaving me behind to wallow in silence.
XXXX
Peace.
To me, it was eerie.
The apartment seemed so gray.
So empty.
Lifeless.
Even the sunshine from outside couldn't even disrupt the dark in here.
December 22.
The hospital was gonna let him go that day.
With his dad.
I felt instant furiousness, remembering that Goat's face.
Jumped up to my feet. Dashed into my room. Pulled on my familiar drawer.
Searched through my boxers, neatly folded by…
And then I saw it.
The box of cigarettes. Marlboro, to be exact.
I could feel my blood rushing into my hands. My veins yearned for it.
I shook. Shook uncontrollably.
Just one smoke…
That's all…
And then I'll stop for good…
Just to ease the stress…
I crushed the pack of smokes in my hand. I charged outside. Felt the whoosh of air enter my lungs.
I saw the trash can beside the mailbox. Threw it inside with slight reluctance.
Gone.
My thoughts had begun to bundle together in that same order I always did.
One smoke to relieve me for one day…
Without even knowing it, I had almost relapsed into my old routine.
'Cause one smoke wasn't ever enough.
Never.
My breathing was heavy. The morning atmosphere was tremendously cold.
I rushed back inside. Locked the door as I entered.
Took to my kitchen like it didn't matter. Checked the usual places for booze.
Set them all on a counter. Got a trash bag. Stuffed them all in there like toys for donation.
The glasses clicked and clacked as they landed inside.
But I didn't fucking care.
I hoisted the bottles of beer, and trudged outside to the trash can.
Spotted the crumpled Marlboro.
With a heavy grunt, the trash bag, along with my stress relievers were simply gone.
XXXX
It had been three days.
I'd gone without a single beer and a single cigarette.
It was difficult, kicking an old habit. An addiction.
But I had to.
This was the only way.
I hadn't been in this part of town for nearly three years.
It wasn't as crowded as I had imagined. But still noisy nonetheless.
I opened the door. Bell chimed above my head.
"Welcome, sir." I nodded in reply.
Any minute now, that old man would show up…
"Grimmjow? Is that you?"
I rotated on my heel.
"Hats-and-clogs; knew you'd be in."
"Ah, I knew I recognized that blue head of yours. What brings you here? We haven't seen you in ages!" he exclaimed. Still that same fan from years ago.
I scratched at the back of my head. Swallowed. "I just wanted to ask a favor. I wanna clean the house, but I'm running low on supplies. Since your shop provides all kinds of weird things, I wanted ya to help me out. Recommend some stuff to clean the floor and walls, know what I mean?"
He stared at me for a while.
Was beginning to piss me off, but I knew I had to work on control.
"Sure thing, Grimmjow-kun. I'll even throw in a discount with all the stuff you buy. Anything for my nephew's boyfriend; say, where is he?"
He peered behind me. Above me. Below me.
"Uh, he's…" I glanced at my feet.
Maybe I glanced there for too long, 'cause Urahara began to tap his foot lazily.
"He's gonna be back in a few days' time… I know it."
At least, that was what I wanted to believe.
With a nod of understanding, he began to question what I required.
Brooms, mops, soap, spray, etc.
I was barely able to open the door when I got home.
Jiggled the key into the lock. Noticed my wallet slip out of my pocket.
"Shit," I grumbled. With a push, the door was open. Placed all the plastic bags on the floor.
Picked up my worn wallet. Dared to even peek inside, knowing I didn't even have enough to buy food at the moment.
I spent all my saved money reserved for beer. Now I barely had a nickel in sight.
I guess it was a price I had to pay. Figuratively and literally.
I brushed aside the curtains, making the tiny apartment permeable to sunlight.
Dust flew around like it had nothin' better to do, but laze about. Contaminated the air.
I did everything.
I cleaned. And cleaned like it was a profession I loved.
Every crevice. Every corner. I swept it all of the horrible past it had become.
Splotches of gray, black, and brown. Erased and replaced with white.
Mopped the floor. Swept it. Vacuumed.
Did the laundry. The dishes. Placed the dried ones in the cupboards.
Cleaned out the fridge. Changed the sheets of the bed.
Rearranged the furniture, but leaving them where they were originally placed.
That way, he would recognize where everything was. Where he left it.
Washed the sinks. Scrubbed the tub. Fixed the toilet.
I swept the place of all its grime.
Sprayed the air with new fragrance, eliminating the smell of smoke.
All that was left of this once-dirty place was me.
XXXX
One week.
Two days.
I walked the familiar route. Glass door opening.
Bell chiming.
"You're early today, Grimmjow-kun," the blonde man commented. "You realize that even if you come early, you won't get a raise?"
"Yeah." I lifted a box. Walked over to the candy aisle. Set it down. "I know that, but I'm not here just for the money."
"Oh?"
I smirked at the old man. Fished the candy in the box, placing them where they were supposed to go on the rack.
Tended to customers with a fake smile. Arranged items. Manned the cashier. Carried boxes to wherever.
Right after finishing that job, I looked out the window. Saw the setting sun.
Orange.
"Grimmjow-kun, here's your weekly pay. Nice job."
Received the lent envelope into my hands. Bowed in earnest thanks. Door opened. Bell chimed.
The usual.
I walked the usual direction. Stopped near the usual building.
I looked at the envelope. Stared at it. Felt the cash inside.
But it wouldn't be enough to pay for what I wanted.
Knowing that, I still stood there. Watched people enter and exit.
Now that I was sitting here, eating an ice cream sandwich to quell my hunger, I realized that this had become a pastime of mine.
Only about a week was left for Ichigo…
Only one week for me…
But the money I had now; it would never be able to pay for everything.
Rent. Electricity. Water. Food.
I considered giving up on this building.
But then, if I did that, I would still be the same.
Giving up easily over something without ever finding a solution.
I needed this to get better.
I needed this for us.
"Excuse me?" I felt taps on my shoulder.
Peeked behind me, and there standing was a woman with a dark complexion, purple, flowing hair, and golden irises.
"I couldn't help but notice you standing here all the time. Do you need something?"
"No," my immediate reply came.
"Wait! You work at the Urahara Shoten, correct?"
I stopped then. Nodded my head without turning back.
"I recognize you from there. I come there often to visit Kisuke, and he seems close to you." I turned around.
"Who are you?" I asked without preamble.
"I'm Kisuke's ex-wife, Shihoin Yoruichi. I work at this anger management building as a receptionist."
She stuck out a hand. I looked at it skeptically.
Shook it firmly. "Name's Grimmjow."
"Well, nice to meet you, Grimmjow." She smiled.
I remained indifferent.
"I see you busting your ass every morning in that shop, and from what I can tell, you're a diligent worker. Are you working so hard because you want to attend anger management classes?" She raised an eyebrow.
It wasn't out of suspicion.
Wasn't out to ridicule me.
Just an inquiry.
I figured she was a safe enough person.
"Well, yeah. But I don't have enough money for that stuff."
I didn't need her input on this.
So I spun. Headed for home.
"Grimmjow!"
Halted. Waited for her to voice out whatever she wanted.
Then I'd be off.
"My sister's husband works here as one of the teachers. I can help you out, if you'll let me."
I stared at her with a keen eye.
She didn't look like she pitied me.
"What do you want from me?"
"I don't want anything, Grimmjow. But my sister does need help at the bar she runs. You can pay off the classes if you just work there every now and then."
It wouldn't be a bright idea to be around so much alcohol.
"Sorry, but I already have a job at Urahara's."
"Don't worry about it. I can negotiate with Kisuke on this. We can arrange the schedule together, if you'd like."
My eyebrows rose, sky-high.
Why was this woman helping me?
I didn't know her. Nor did I want to.
But this was what I wanted.
I could finally work on myself.
This was my chance.
My only chance.
XXXX
Two weeks, exact.
December 20.
5 P.M.
The day is near. He's about to released from the hospital.
Breathe.
You'll have to see his father.
Pause.
Control it.
Pause.
Control your temper.
Pause.
Just breathe.
"All right, that's it for today. Now go home and sleep."
Starrk Coyote.
The guy was a lethargic bastard. But he was likeable, to say the least.
He was also the guy who ran this class.
"Grimmjow, need a ride?" He jingled the keys in his hand.
"Ya mind?"
"Nah, we're going to the same place anyway."
I dropped the notebook on his desk. Filled with all my thoughts. Filled with Starrk's many advices.
The car ride to Hueco Mundo always took less than ten minutes, I took note of.
Buildings were a blur, cars whizzing by.
The bar pulsed with rhythm. Heated bodies here and there. Lights scattered. Conversations slurred or clear.
"Hey, Hal."
I tied my apron around me. Heard the kisses they exchanged in their usual greeting.
Halibel Tia Coyote. Starrk's wife, who also happened to be Yoruichi's sister.
The only difference 'bout 'em was their hair color and eyes, and that Halibel was the older one.
"How'd the class go?" she asked, wiping a glass cup.
Starrk poured himself the usual. Whiskey. Trudged over to the lounge room for employees; probably to take his usual nap. "What else? Boring."
Same as usual.
XXXX
December 22.
Breathe.
The hospital was the same. Never-faltering.
Ushering the near-death. Trying to resuscitate the near-death. Caring to those who were wounded.
Releasing those who were able.
When I looked back on it, I always thought doctors could help me.
High school years were tough, and I was only getting into fights more often.
But, hospitals only fixed those with physical wounds.
Not emotional ones.
That's why they couldn't help Ichigo.
They couldn't help me.
They've fixed his broken bones.
Not his ability to remember me.
That's why he needed to stay here.
He needed to stay with me.
Because if I let him go now, there was no telling he would ever return.