This is a turbulent chapter with many, many mood swings. Prepare yourself.

Blue Collar IV

Purgatory

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Don't doubt yourself, Itsygo! Cayenne pepper and chocolate are a deadly combination...in a good way, that is."

Ichigo was standing over the island of the kitchen in his and Grimmjow's apartment, holding a small bottle full of bright crimson flakes over a bowlful of thick, chocolate cupcake batter. He knew that he had basically perfected the recipe for it ever since he had started baking school two months prior. He had spent many a sleepless night in the kitchen working on it, obsessing over it, not budging even when a voice rough with sleep called from across the apartment to come to bed.

But Ichigo's triple chocolate (white, milk, and dark) cupcakes had earned him a spot in a small baking competition outside of his school and he had won first place and a hundred dollars. That had been the first time he had made money since he had been fired from his job at the steel mill, and it was more than he made in a week there, working full-time.

Grimmjow hadn't been able to make it to the competition as he had had 'work', but Ichigo had been waiting by the door when the blue-haired man had come home that night, nearly tackling his lover to the ground in his excitement and waving the check in his face. The orangette had been so ecstatic that he had let Grimmjow fuck him wildly against the window, which they had only done two or three times since that first day they had moved in. He had even let the blunette watch him as he licked the window clean, not wanting a repeat of their first morning at the apartment.

But! The point really was that Ichigo had finally found something he was relatively good at, talented, even. Or at least that's what Nelliel said, but he thought she was just particularly fond of him because he was one of the few that indulged her split personality; half lively child, half sage adult. Plus he had a feeling she liked calling him 'Itsygo' far too much than any grown person should.

"Go ahead, Itsygo!" the mossy-haired girl cried out impatiently, staring into the mixing bowl with wide eyes. However, the man set the small bottle of cayenne pepper flakes back onto the granite counter top, frowning.

"I don't know, Nel. I know it would taste alright with milk and dark chocolate, but I'm not so sure about the white," he sighed, chewing his lower lip. He looked up to his baking mentor for guidance, finding her gray-green eyes twinkling with both knowledge and amusement as she smiled fondly at him. However, before she said anything she reached to her wrist with one hand to pull a black hair tie off of it, moving towards Ichigo to maneuver behind him. Being that she was the same height as he was, the woman was easily able to run her hands through his sunset colored hair that was now laying on his shoulders. He hadn't bother to cut it because Grimmjow said he liked it longer, though he wasn't so sure. It sort of made him look younger, like he could pass for a teenager, or possibly even a girl (a very masculine girl and you would have to be far away to think he was one, but a girl nonetheless.)

"Now, now, Itsygo. Don't you remember when you were first trying that red velvet recipe with ground orange rinds?" Nel asked, her voice soft and soothing as she worked his hair into a ponytail as she so liked to do whenever she talked to him somewhat seriously. They had gotten very close ever since Ichigo had started attending her baking school, like they were made to be friends, to be in each other's lives. She knew everything that Ichigo had gone through without and then with Grimmjow and he knew about her terrible early childhood as she had been orphaned at the age of one and had been bounced around from abusive foster home to the next until she had been adopted by her two fathers, Pesche and Dondochakka, at the late age of sixteen.

Ichigo winced at the mention of that incident.

"Yeah, everyone hated it," he said, hitting the mixing spoon against the bowl with a little too much force in a petulant action. But he didn't ask Nel why she had mentioned one of his biggest mistakes in baking school so far, he knew she was going somewhere with it.

"And what did you do afterwards?" she asked softly, tightening his hair into the hair tie. A few strands of bright tangerine hair still fell into his face but most of it was out of his way now.

"Now I can see," he murmured in good humor, but immediately went back to Nel's question, answering it with a sour taste in his mouth. "I threw it away and apologized to everyone who tried it."

Nel chuckled and she moved from behind him to stand on the opposite side of the island again, shaking her head.

"No, I mean after that."

"I started on a new red velvet recipe...with cherries instead," Ichigo responded, remembering back to the day he had created that cake, one that had earned him a solid A plus in that particular class. "Are you saying I should add cherries instead?" he asked enthusiastically, turning to go grab said cherries from the refrigerator but Nel grabbed him by the sleeve of his red flannel, button-up shirt, the same one Grimmjow had been wearing the first time they had met.

"No, silly! Itsygo, I mean that after you made that God-awful cake-"

"Hey!"

"After you made it, you moved on, you started on a new recipe. You tried something new, but it didn't work and now you're a better pastry chef because of it, right?" Nel smiled brightly, the dark pink birthmark across her nose wrinkling cutely as she did so. With one delicate hand that bore none of the usual scars any chef bears from wayward knives she picked up the bottle of cayenne pepper flakes and put it into Ichigo's larger one. "Trust your instincts and you won't ever be too far off from where you should be."

These were not new theories to Ichigo, they weren't to anyone really, but it was what he needed to hear.

Baking is a silly thing, frivolous and unimportant to most. Ichigo doesn't deny this, but besides his newly found friends in Szayel and Nelliel and, of course, Grimmjow, it's truly all he has. It's the only thing he has that's purely Ichigo's, that he doesn't have to rely on anyone else to do, that he can do for other people.

He added just a pinch of cayenne and poured the batter into the trays before setting them in the oven that was already well-loved despite the fact that he and Grimmjow had only lived in the apartment for a few months now and he knew nothing about cooking actual food in the thing.

After he set the timer, he and Nel stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the counters and drinking glasses of the wine the woman had brought over. She had been trying to educate the orangette in the fine nuances of wine but Ichigo thought it all tasted the same and he wasn't a big fan, though he did really like the nice tingling in his extremities and the warm, heavy feeling everywhere else, especially his head. They had just gone through almost the entire bottle and Ichigo was on the floor laughing at something Nelliel had said, wondering when she had gotten so funny, when the door swung open.

From their position in the kitchen they couldn't see the person whom had entered the apartment until they took a few steps in, but it was no surprise to Ichigo when he saw that it was Grimmjow shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the couch (no matter how many times the orangette had told him not to do so.) He felt like running to the man and giving him a kiss he'd never forget for the rest of his life as it had been far too long since Grimmjow had spent enough quality time with him, but he felt quite comfortable there, sitting on the floor, and he just didn't feel like getting up.

He faintly remembered he had forgotten to tell Grimmjow that Nel was coming over, and had in fact never introduced the two, and that was all too apparent when the blue-haired man stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he took in the busty, mossy-haired woman in his kitchen. Ichigo heard Nel drop her wine glass and as it shattered on the hardwood floor. Frowning, he pushed himself off of the floor to stand up. He was a little unsteady but nothing he couldn't handle.

"Sexta," Nelliel breathed, a hand going to her throat as she looked upon Grimmjow with wide, frightened eyes.

"Tercera," Grimmjow grunted, sharp eyes roving over the female, his upper lips curled upwards. "Wha' tha fuck are ya doin' in my house?" As if that sentence had snapped him out of his apparent shock, he stalked over to the kitchen with long, powerful strides that had him standing in front of Ichigo in a heartbeat, causing the orange-haired man to quirk a brow.

"I don't go by that name anymore," Nel said, her voice a little stronger as her eyes flickered back and forth between Ichigo and Grimmjow. "Oh, I see, you're Grimmjow."

Ichigo was thoroughly confused, which was not in the least bit helped by his slightly tipsy state.

"Um, can someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked. "Do you guys know each other?"

Neither Nel nor Grimmjow answered for a few moments until the latter turned towards him, his sapphire eyes unreadable, not an easy feat considering Ichigo had been with the man for five years and he had thought that he'd seen everything . But there was a mixture of distrust, disbelief, confusion, anger, sadness, concern, and regret and it thoroughly baffled the orange-haired pastry student. He had never even see such a look in Grimmjow's eyes before, not ever.

It was obvious from the way they had reacted to each other, Nel and Grimmjow, that they knew each other, from somewhere. And Ichigo had not had enough wine to not be able to work out that it had something to do with Grimmjow's job. Sexta. Tercera. They had greeted each other with those names and he suspected that they had to be in the same language as the name of the organization the Espada. The vowels, the fluidity of the words, they were too similar not to be derived from the same obviously romance language.

"I should go. I'll see you in class Monday, yes, Ichigo? Don't forget to tell me how those cupcakes turned out!" Nelliel said in a falsely cheerful tone with an equally fake, bright smile, waving her fingers in a sort of goodbye. Before Ichigo could tell her to stay, ask her why she was acting so strangely, she had moved almost faster than the eye could see, gathering her fall jacket before nearly running to the door and disappearing into the hallway.

The young man stood there, shell shocked at his friend and mentor's sudden departure, mouth wide open as if he were going to catch flies. He absentmindedly placed his half-empty wine glass back on the island and shook his head, trying to clear it of the fuzzy feeling inside that made it a tad difficult to think clearly. Placing a hand to his temple, he turned to look at his lover, at Grimmjow, whom was regarding him with an intense stare.

"What the hell was that about?" he nearly snapped, the wine in his system making him a little bit more irritable than usual.

"Maybe you can tell me," Grimmjow snapped right back, folding his strong arms across his chest as if to look intimidating, but Ichigo wasn't the least bit put off.

"What is your problem? You're the one who came in and asked my friend what the fuck she was doing in your house! And you two obviously know each other! From your job, right?" he pressed, walking closer to his lover of five years and scowling up at him fiercely. "Tell me, I have a right to know."

"And I have tha right to know who tha hell yer bringing in here! Fuck, Ichigo, do ya have any idea who ya just brought in tha house? Do ya know what-" Grimmjow stalled, pursing his lips. His cyanic eyes blazed with an anger Ichigo didn't understand. "Do ya even know what she could'a done to ya when I wasn't here?" His voice had grown quiet, soft. He still sounded angry, but it was more of a 'I'm disappointed in you' kind of angry. Ichigo hated it, it made him feel like a child, and Grimmjow wasn't his father. He had no right to reprimand him.

"What the fuck are you on about? Nel is my friend, she owns the pastry school I go to! Are you trying to say she could've taken one of the kitchen knives and stabbed me in the back when I wasn't looking?" Ichigo asked, his tone incredulous.

"Tha's exactly what I'm sayin', Ichigo," the blunette said in a grave tone, his eyes serious. "Ya have ta be more careful 'bout who ya trust! Fuck, I could've come home and she...you..." Grimmjow trailed off, his voice had steadily been getting louder and louder, even louder than it was before. Ichigo wanted to cover his ears but didn't out of pride's sake. Apparently whatever the blue-haired man had been thinking about what could have possibly met him when he'd come home had him in a frothing rage, because he turned and started walking off to the living room, snarls ripping through his throat. If you closed your eyes, you could've sworn you were next to a vicious panther from the sound of them.

Ichigo breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth before following, finding Grimmjow standing by the wall opposite to the windows. His eyes looked wild, unfocused, like a cornered animal.

"Goddamnit!" he roared once before letting his right fist fly into the drywall, shattering the material like a hammer to an eggshell. Ichigo gasped unintentionally and took a step backwards, the sound alerting Grimmjow to his presence. The other man, panting heavily, lifted his gaze to regard him with a furious glare that quickly fell for he must have seen the look on Ichigo's face.

"Ichi, I-" he started, but the orangette cut him off with a motion of his hand.

"I'm going to go take a shower and we can talk about this when I get out," he said simply and turned around before Grimmjow could answer. They both needed to take some time to calm down before they continued into what might be the worst row they'd ever had, a fact that was tearing at Ichigo's heartstrings. After grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser he went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him and it was then that he finally let himself collapse, sliding down the door to fall into a heap on the cold, tiled floor.

He tucked himself into a ball, arms around his curled legs and face buried in his knees. There wasn't much warning before the stinging behind his eyes and the lump in his throat became all too much and tears he was ashamed to cry ran down his face, the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes like small crystals.

Ichigo mentally blamed it on too much wine. He never had been able to handle his alcohol very well, but he knew it was much more than that. It was Grimmjow, the fact that he was gone most of the time and Ichigo hated it. He had become pitifully dependant on the other male in the years they had been together in that small house in Hanging Dog, always used to having him there when he needed him, always able to hold him, kiss him, talk to him whenever he wanted. They were all the other had in the whole world and while it had probably been not ideal, Ichigo had gotten used to that. All of the trials they had been through together had brought them as close as any two separate souls could be, and it wasn't something that could be undone overnight.

And their financial problems, the ones that were his fault for losing his job and sucking up all of the money for those worthless RA treatments, had forced Grimmjow to move back to the city and reinstate himself in a job he hated, one that took him away from Ichigo most of the hours of the day. And the man had done it all for him, to make sure that he could have everything he'd never had before.

Call him trite, cliche, whatever, but Ichigo thought Grimmjow had to be the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out. No one with a bad heart, or even an average one, would do that for anyone else, especially not for him. But Grimmjow's very soul was beautiful and Ichigo knew he had to have been sent from heaven itself, an angel in human form.

His savior.

From the very beginning, Grimmjow had saved him, like the way religious people say their beliefs saved them. It was the very same. They can be damned if they thought him blasphemous, it was the honest to God truth.

And because of his own shortcomings, that angel had been caged back inside Hell out of his own free will.

Ichigo knew that whatever Grimmjow's job was it was highly illegal, and dangerous. He had known that for a long time. Why else wouldn't the man tell him a thing about it? It hurt Ichigo's very soul to not be entrusted with a detail of Grimmjow's life, but he had never pushed for answers about just what his lover had done when he had been with the Espada. He knew Grimmjow had his reasons, no doubt concerned for his welfare should he know too much about things he should have never even known existed.

And he knew that was why the man had been so angry with him when he had come home. He knew Nel through his job, Ichigo was certain of this, and obviously Grimmjow considered her to be dangerous because of that fact even though the orangette could never picture his bubbly and intelligent mentor and friend being involved in big time organized crime. Grimmjow had been upset that Ichigo hadn't known whom exactly Nelliel was and had let her into their home, where anything could have happened.

But Ichigo knew that wasn't it. There was only one reasonable explanation for just how terribly the blunette had snapped.

Something else was going on, something bad, and if he were to guess, something deadly.

Ichigo emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, having only just stopped the tears from falling from his eyes and the shuddering sobs racking his body five minutes beforehand, having to quickly shower in that time lest Grimmjow come looking for him, afraid he had slipped and cracked his head open on the tile.

His hair was dripping wet still, soaking the shoulders of his cotton black t-shirt and a quick glance in the mirror showed him that his eyes were still bright red and puffy from crying, but if Grimmjow asked he would just tell him he got soap in his eyes. Ichigo thought he may have never looked less attractive. The shirt he was wearing was Grimmjow's and was several sizes too big on him, making him look too thin and frail, and with long, wet hair that was now almost a dark red until it dried and lightened to its natural color that washed out his natural, year-long tan to an unhealthily sallow skin tone and his eyes bloodshot and slightly swollen, he looked an absolute mess. He wanted to turn around and barricade himself in the bathroom, not wanting anyone to see him looking like the walking dead, only worse.

But he had to talk to Grimmjow, he couldn't be any more selfish than he already was, had been when he had allowed the love of his life to immerse himself in a world someone as naturally divine as the blue-haired, angel-faced man should never even be exposed to. He deserved to live in a world full of light, somewhere where Ichigo could protect him for once, shelter him from those that wished him harm. Whatever it took to make his love happy, anything anywhere anytime, he would not wait for his heart to beat before doing it.

His still wet feet slightly stuck to the floor as he walked out, past the bedroom area to where Grimmjow was lying on the couch on his stomach, his still shoe clad feet hanging off the edge as the couch didn't accommodate his six foot three frame. The television was off so instead the apartment was filled with the warm glow of the sun setting over the city's horizon and the sound of Grimmjow's deep, even breathing. He had fallen asleep in those twenty minutes Ichigo had been in the bathroom.

Smiling just the smallest bit he tread over to the couch, the serene expression feeling strange on his face after he had spent a quarter of an hour crying like he hadn't since he was a small child clinging to his mother. Before she passed away, that is. Looking over the back to see Grimmjow's storybook beautiful face turned towards him, he ran a hand over the brow that was still creased with grievance even in sleep. It was even more apparent that something dreadful was bothering his love, and he would wager anything it could potentially harm them.

His mother would have liked Grimmjow, he decided before leaving the blunette to sleep some more while he tended to the now beeping oven.

Maybe she was watching from somewhere, smiling down at them, the only family either of them that accepted them for who they were. Ichigo felt his heart grow warm at the fact that he may be blessed enough to have two guardian angels watching over him. One somewhere else that the human eye couldn't see and one there on Earth with him.

The cupcakes were perfectly baked. He could tell with his now expert eye just from looking at them and he licked his lips. If these turned out as delicious as they looked, he potentially had another contest winner on his hands. Setting the tray on top of the stove to allow the cupcakes to cool before he iced them, Ichigo grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to sweep up the broken glass from when Nel had dropped her wine earlier, barely forty-five minutes ago. It felt like it had been hours since then, but time had never treated him well, making his now scarce moments with Grimmjow too short and pass by much too fast.

Once he had cleaned the floor of the broken glass, Ichigo then made his way to the living area wall where pieces of drywall littered the handsome, dark hardwood he loved so much. He had to work a little bit harder to remove the white dust that seemed intent on sticking to the floor like gum, occasionally sneaking glances over his shoulder to make sure Grimmjow was still sleeping. He knew his lover needed as much rest as he could get these days.

Though Ichigo doubted 'these days' would ever end, not for as long as Grimmjow worked for the Espada.

Sighing at the thought, he finished up and walked over to the kitchen, washing his hands before picking up the tubing of Belgian chocolate truffle icing he had made earlier in the day. Not for the first time that day did he thank Szayel for discovering the biologic agent that had effectively restored full mobility to his hands, rendering him finally able to do all of the normal things most take for granted. Like being able to button his own shirt without Grimmjow's help, or being able to fill out his school forms in his own handwriting, instead of dictating to Grimmjow what to write in that chicken scratch he claims spells out words, or being able to use all of the household appliances whereas before the small little knobs and switches had been too painful to adjust.

He still got a few shooting shocks of pain every now and then, a highly uncomfortable cramp in his fingers here and there. The stiffness and slight ache he still had to work through in the mornings sometimes, and when it rained, but for the most part he could function almost as if he had never had the arthritis. Though when he woke up alone to rainy mornings, when it nearly felt like he was back in Hanging Dog with near unbearable aches and pains in his hands and wrists, he had no lover with the face and voice of an angel to cradle the hurting extremities and kiss them and whisper softly to him that everything was alright before.

Laying in bed wondering where the blunette was until the early hours of the morning until exhaustion forcefully claimed him was not doing anything for the dark circles under his eyes and the fatigue he felt when he was alone at the apartment. When he wasn't at Nel's school or, on the rare occasion, out with Szayel watching the man buy everything from furniture to ascots for astronomical prices, he mostly laid about the house, too tired and anxious to sleep. He couldn't ever stop thinking about Grimmjow, what the man could be doing at that moment, whether he was hurt or...

Or worse.

And that thought only led to nightmares that plagued his sleep regularly. Sometimes he woke from them to find the warm body belonging to Grimmjow sleeping deeply beside him, calming the orangette instantly, but most times his eyes flew open to nothing but an empty apartment and for a few agonizing seconds, Ichigo believed his visions of his beloved lying face down in a pool of dark scarlet blood to be reality.

So lost in thought was he, Ichigo didn't even register that in the background the sound of Grimmjow's deep, even breathing had ceased, so when a fingertip trailed down his cheek he jumped a foot in the air, yelping and nearly dropping the tubing full of icing in his hands. With wide mocha latte brown eyes, he rounded on the only person it could have been.

"Ya had chocolate on yer face," Grimmjow murmured around the finger in his mouth, the one he had used to collect the chocolate truffle icing that had accidentally gotten onto Ichigo's face. "It's good," he said approvingly, but it was forced, awkward, everything opposite of what their relationship was, of who Grimmjow himself was. It bothered Ichigo immensely. He had to say something to cut through the unfamiliar tension so he figured he would just cut right to the chase.

"I know you have something to tell me about Nel, about how you know her." Ichigo sat down his bag of icing and folded his arms across the front of the far too big black t-shirt. "So start talking."

Grimmjow's expression was both hard and soft. Eyes like warm crystal blue ocean water and hard royal blue sapphires at the same time, as if he was trying to be civilized with Ichigo, but the orangette was making it hard. He didn't answer at first, reaching out a hand to caress Ichigo's cheekbone with the back of his knuckles, the touch incredibly light, like a feather brushing against his skin and the younger male had to refrain from shuddering in delight. It had been too long since they had been together physically for anything longer than a kiss before Grimmjow left and after he came home. That in itself spoke volumes about how the stress of the blunette's employment was having a great effect on the both of them.

But Ichigo pulled away. He knew if he gave into his more base desires at the moment that he would miss his opportunity to hear from Grimmjow just how he knew Nel, and possibly gain some more information on the clandestine group that was the Espada. This could be his chance to finally find out just what his lover did at all hours of the night.

But it seemed Grimmjow wasn't interested in sharing that just yet.

"Ichi, I heard ya in the bathroom," he said in a voice so full of sorrow he didn't sound like himself at all.

Ichigo's lips parted in surprise and he took a step backwards, gaze dropping to the ground. He hated crying in front of Grimmjow (which should be quite obvious by now), or even having the other one know that he had done so. He had been raised with the belief that boys didn't cry and while he had certainly defied many of the other beliefs that had been instilled in him as a child, that was one that stuck. Crying was for the weak, the emotional. Ichigo didn't want to be weak, weeping like a child at every little thing, so the tears would just get bottled up until he couldn't hold them in anymore and episodes like the bathroom earlier happened.

Not to mention he felt absolutely miserable if he cried in front of Grimmjow, or the other man knew he had shed tears. His lover did so much for him, always had, and he felt like he had failed Grimmjow by not being happy. After all, wasn't that the very least he could do?

No, he had to become depressed because he was starved for attention. God, how much more selfish could hebe?

Apparently the blunette had an idea of what was bothering Ichigo, so he cupped the other's face in large, capable hands and tilted Ichigo's head up so that red-rimmed fawn brown met shimmering cobalt. The orange-haired male almost smiled at the familiar and yet still hauntingly beautiful sight of those eyes of deepest blue, he was completely at home in those eyes, his very soul probably lived in them.

"Ichi, you can tell me wha's the matter, yeah?"

Ichigo gripped onto Grimmjow's wrists with his hands. He briefly contemplated that Grimmjow was the only person whom had heard or seen him cry since he had entered junior high, and he was the only person Grimmjow treated so tenderly in his entire life, the blunette had said so himself.

"I...I'm just really stressed out by school, there's another contest coming up and-"

"Stop with the bullshit."

It wasn't that the orangette was a bad liar. It was just that the other could just tell, like he had some sort of lie detector chip implanted in his chip. Giving up, Ichigo let himself fall into Grimmjow's arms, feeling somewhat content for the first time in weeks as he pressed his lips to the blunette's neck, right on the pulse point. A pleased hum was his reward as he contemplated what he would say.

"I'll tell you if you tell me how you knew Nel," Ichigo proposed in an almost drowsy tone. The lack of sleep was catching up with him and he felt like he could just melt right then and there.

Silence. The younger man thought for a moment that his lover would reject the offer.

"Fine, but you go first," Grimmjow said firmly, his tone stern. "Tell me wha' upset ya. Was...was it me?"

Ichigo's heart ripped at the self-loathing, the insecurity, in his beloved's voice that he heard deep underneath the gruff exterior. He knew the other man was referencing when he had punched the wall earlier in his anger and he automatically tightened his hold around Grimmjow's midsection, burying his face in the dress shirt clad shoulder that smelled of autumn woods and apples and a musky, heady scent that was decidedly Grimmjow. If Ichigo thought it possible, he would swear that the blue-haired man exuded pheromones like a jungle cat.

"That was a part of it," the orangette admitted and felt his long-time lover stiffen in his embrace and hastened to explain. "You...you didn't scare me or anything like that, and I wasn't really mad, I just...I was just upset because you were."

Grimmjow made a noncommittal "hn" noise and Ichigo took it as a sign to continue, the blunette knowing that was only the tip of the iceberg.

"And if you must down know, Nel was over here because I couldn't be alone anymore. You're never here, you're always off some place that you never bother to tell me about. And I don't even remember the last time we ate an actual meal together, and let's not even talk about our sex life because that's nonexistent. Not to mention I'm always going to bed by myself, alone, just me, and I know that you're out there, doing whatever it is that you do and I-I..." Ichigo trailed off, panting slightly as he stared with almost panicked eyes into Grimmjow's. He was surprised with himself, really. He hadn't meant to say all of that, and the other man hadn't expected him to as well, obvious from the way his thin, turquoise brows were almost touching his hairline, giving him an incredulous expression.

"I just lay there, wondering if you're...gone, if I would know it if you were, if I would feel it if you...died," Ichigo's voice had grown to be so quiet, it was almost just a soft, sad sigh. And he was caught by surprise when Grimmjow's arms tightened around him, crushing him to the older man's chest with an almost bruising force. It was a desperate action, he could feel that, and he clutched at the fabric of his lover's shirt, just as he had done when they had first met. Nothing had changed much, Grimmjow was still the only thing binding him to the earth.

"I ain't goin' anywhere for a long while, Ichi," Grimmjow's breath fluttered along his still damp hair and the orangette let his eyes close, enjoying the moment of affinity that had become so rare ever since they had moved to Rukongai. He didn't say what he was thinking at that moment, that Grimmjow had better keep true to that promise, that it may just be impossible for Ichigo to carry on if he were to break it, sad as that may be. It didn't need to be said, it hung heavy in the air around them, unspoken but still very much there.

"I know I'm being selfish, complaining about your job, that it's taking you away from me when you've been able to give me everything I ever wanted," Ichigo elaborated. "I appreciate it more than I can tell you, but...I miss you, I can't lose you."

"Ichi, I'm-"

"Don't," the younger male's voice was harsh, even though a small grin quirked his lips as he laid a finger over Grimmjow's mouth, effectively silencing him. "Don't say you're sorry."

The blunette's petal soft lips spread into an amused smirk, his cobalt eyes glazing over for the briefest of seconds as Ichigo surmised he remembered that day that both seemed like just yesterday and so long ago. The orangette had kept him to that silent agreement ever since that day, he would never have Grimmjow apologize to him, not ever. And vice versa.

"Now," Ichigo started, pulling away a little and a more serious expression befalling his now much more radiant face. "Tell me how you know Nel, and...what what it she called you earlier, Se-" but before he could finish his query, Grimmjow's hand was over his mouth in a more aggressive mimic of what Ichigo had done earlier. The somewhat lightened mood was completely gone, those sapphire eyes were hard once again and the amused smirk had vanished into a thin line, blue eyebrows furrowed on a tan forehead.

"I don't wanna hear ya say tha' ever again, ya hear me?" Grimmjow said in a way much like a strict father would to a child whom had uttered a swear word. Usually it bothered Ichigo when the other acted in such a way as he was only six years younger, but he saw that his lover was utterly serious, so he just nodded. Grimmjow removed his hand, only to pinch the bridge of his nose as he walked a few paces away. The very last ray of sunlight was disappearing over the skyline of the city and none of the lights in the apartment were on, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

It was a few long moments before the blue-haired man spoke again.

"I'm not goin' to tell ya everything."

"I know."

Grimmjow turned his head to look at Ichigo, a scowl marring his ethereal face. The latter knew the other had never wanted to tell him even just the bare bones of what it was that he did in the midnight hours, what he had been so desperate to get away from. Sure Ichigo had been able to figure out a few things, the fact that it was highly illegal, dangerous, but also extremely organized, rivaling a Fortune 500 company. That, and it was called Espada. But it was about damn time that some of the real truth came out, he was so tired of not knowing.

Not knowing was always the worst.

"Listen ta me, Ichi," Grimmjow started even as his gaze strayed from Ichigo to look out of one of the massive windows, the blue light from the city's lights falling over his face to highlight the contours of his cheekbones, nose, chin. Ichigo wanted to go to him, hold him again, but he stayed his distance. He knew it would be better if the other man could just forget he was there while he told the twisted tale of his past in the very city they were in at that moment.

"I was young and dumb as shit, I didn' know any better, jus' tha' I wanted ta get out of tha hellhole that was supposed to be my home. Ya know 'bout my dad, the bastard that he was," Grimmjow said, still looking through the window as if he was looking into the past.

Ichigo remembered the blunette talking about his father once the entire time they had been together. It had made him grateful for his own, no matter how bigoted the man was, especially when Grimmjow had told him about the steel-toed boots that were his father's favorite. His stomach still rolled in discomfort at the thought of a young turquoise-haired boy with wide cobalt eyes trying to defend himself against a grown man that would don those horrific boots and kick him until he was too sore to even go to school the next day. But he said nothing.

"So fuckin' typical, right? Kid with a mother that abandoned 'im and a father that only kept 'im 'round for tha welfare check and to test out tha baseball bats he stole from tha other neighborhood kids. Kid decides he's had enough of tha' bull so he packs his shit and leaves, only ta find out tha' he doesn't know jack shit 'bout survivin' on his own an' no one gives a fuck about a scrawny thirteen year-old kid and he's left ta sleep in tha gutters, steal food from trashcans. So when tha first person to come 'long and offers him help, he takes it, right? Because he's an idiot and can't see wha' he's gettin' himself into."

Ten seconds passed. Maybe fifteen. Ichigo was too busy biting into his lower lip so hard his teeth broke the skin, trying not to sob aloud for the second time that evening to count. He'd heard this story once before but Grimmjow had downplayed...well, everything. He had known that his beloved had led a rough childhood, but it was just so much more...real at that moment. The man in front of him that he loved so much it physically hurt had been abused by his father from the since he was old enough to start remembering to when he decided to run away and had become homeless at the age of thirteen.

"He was in a white suit, I remember tha', and thinkin' it was weird tha' anyone on that side a' town would wear a white suit. I thought the way he acted was even weirder, no one had ever been so pleasant ta me my entire life, but he offered me a place ta stay and food and water and I was so hungry and fuckin' tired that I followed 'im without a second thought, back ta his house, or mansion, actually. I was surprised when I actually got my firs' decent meal in weeks an' a room all ta myself. I was sure tha' I would wake up with a gun in my face or a blade ta my throat, or...other things."

Ichigo shuddered at the thought of a teenage Grimmjow being subjected to those 'other things', but he still said nothing. He hoped that the story took a turn for the better as it seemed it was about to, for he was still fighting back the tears he refused to let fall.

"But none 'a that happened, and I stayed with him for a week after tha', still sure that the catch was comin'. And it did, but it wasn't wha' I expected," Grimmjow's voice was rougher than usual, his eyes distant as he was still thoroughly caught up in the past, seeing something other than their view of the city street. Ichigo was still speechless, too afraid to even say anything anyway for fear of breaking his long-time lover out of his thoughts. He was scared to hear more, but he had to. All this time they had been together, never leaving the other's side for more than a few hours until they had moved to Rukongai, and he had never known. He had never been privy one of the most crucial parts of Grimmjow's past and to say it hurt would be quite the understatement. Yes, he understood the blue-haired man's reasons, but it still made him feel so...unimportant.

"He took me to tha gardens in his mansion, even though it was in the middle of tha city the wall around it were built too high for anyone to be able ta see in from tha outside. There was a man tied to a chair, blindfolded and beggin' for his life, talkin' about his wife, his children, jus' like in tha fuckin' movies. The one who took me in walked right up to tha man and pulled out a Winchester pistol, somethin' that belonged in a museum for fuck's sake. He pointed it right between tha' poor sucker's eyes and pulled the trigger. He never stopped lookin' at me. I didn't even flinch."

Grimmjow shook his head slightly, scrubbing a hand over his face. Ichigo noticed that the man had neglected shaving for the past few days and the cotton candy blue, nearly invisible hairs that were on his face and neck would have looked unnatural on anyone else but him.

"I guess tha decided it fer 'im. He asked me right then and there if I wanted ta become a part of his new project, somethin' called the Espada."

Ichigo's breath hitched.

"I said yes, because, fuck, what else was I gonna do? He said tha' my name wouldn' be Grimmjow anymore. I didn' care, because at that age that was tha name my whore of a mother had given ta me. Then he told me tha' I would be named after 'is favorite number."

It didn't need to be said, Ichigo already knew it.

Sexta.

"I was tha first member to join, but over tha next few months, more kids 'round my age started showin' up. Tha's where I met yer friend, tha one wit' the green hair. I knew her by her Espada name; Tercera. She was good, really good, but she wasn't cut out fer tha lifestyle, so she left. Never saw 'er again until today, when I walked through tha door to find ya in the kitchen with her." Grimmjow shook his head, a humorless smirk appearing on his visage. "Only you would attend a fuckin' pastry school owned by a former Espada and make them yer drinkin' buddy." He said this all without even glancing Ichigo's way.

The orangette was leaning on the counter top now, his brain trying to process the new information. He still wasn't quite sure as to what the Espada did, but he had a couple of ideas from what Grimmjow had just shared with him. Most particularly from the part when the man that had taken him in, the founder of the Espada, had shot a man in the face with a then thirteen year-old Grimmjow watching. It was obvious to him that that had been some sort of test to surmise the blunette's reaction to carnage and death. Ichigo felt a chill rip through his body and he shivered violently, wrapping his arms around himself.

Grimmjow's gaze finally left the view from the window and he looked back to the younger man, a shocking look of something like disgust on his face. It almost made Ichigo take a step backwards.

"Come on then, I know ya want to ask me, so jus' do it already," the blue-haired male said defensively, his body squaring off against the other man's as if preparing himself for a physical blow.

"What?" Ichigo croaked, his voice somewhat hoarse from holding back his tears. He was honestly confused as to what his lover was talking about.

Grimmjow's eyes softened, but his lips were still pursed in a tight line.

"You want ta ask me...if I've ever killed anyone." At the end of his sentence, his deep voice almost completely disappeared it was so soft, but Ichigo heard him and automatically frowned heavily. He dropped his arms to his sides and stalked forward, bringing himself so that he was head to chest with Grimmjow, staring fiercely up at the other man who, for what was possibly the first time Ichigo had ever seen, looked...afraid. Not nervous or anxious, but very afraid. The smaller man didn't have to ask why; he knew that the other was afraid of what his reaction would be to the answer to that question, which told him all he needed to know.

"I don't care," Ichigo said adamantly, placing a hand on his chest as if making a pledge. "And I don't care if that makes me a horrible person, for not caring. I really don't...the only thing I care about is you, and you're the best person I've ever known. You've done so much for me that it doesn't matter, and it never will."

As Grimmjow's lips sealed over his in a kiss that transcended him to an entirely new dimension, Ichigo would have never imagined that later that night when he would be half-naked in an alley with a gun pointed to his face that it actually mattered quite a lot.

A/N: The mood swings in this chapter are giving me whiplash! :3 Oh and yes, this chapter conflicts with a paragraph I had in the first chapter, when it was written that Grimmjow joined a gang and rose in the ranks. Apologies, that was typed up when this was still a one-shot.

Also, this story is not supposed to be particular to any religion, and it isn't. I myself do not have a strict set of beliefs, having left the religion I was raised in. You can believe in angels without being Catholic /Christian and I just didn't want to upset anyone, considering they are the general motif of the story and I portray them mostly as how they appear in Judeo-Christian texts, and make references to the aforementioned as well, but it's all for the sake of imagery! Again, there is no religion in this story!

Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews and favorites! You guys and gals are my little angels, lol! :3

Hmm, perhaps this will be eight chapters now...honestly, I can't tell at this point because words won't stop coming out of fingers when I sit down to write chapters for this story!

I want cupcakes now... :(