I'm still here I've been busy but this fic isn't dead. It is, however, nearing its end.

You are all so kind, reviewing and favoriteing and following this story. Seriously, thank you for your support. I was so nervous about starting a new story and you gave me the support I needed.

I am, of course, awake to hear the series of knocks on my window a few days later. They beat to the quick cadence of Fur Elise and my heart pounds in time to the song as I tug on the first set of clothes I can find in the dark. The window sticks when I try to pull it open.

Grimmjow openly stares at me on the roof. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, hoping he doesn't notice. Was there something stuck in my hair? Or did he regret calling me out on these trips?

"What the hell are you wearing?" I look down at my clothes, wrinkled jeans with what could either be a blood or ketchup stain and a t-shirt depicting a band I liked a few years ago, the lettering so worn it was peeling off.

"it was dark and I was rushing. Besides, what's wrong with it? The-" I squint at the letters, trying to decipher what they say. "Adjuchas are chill."

"You look like the unholy child of Goodwill and a Lost and Found box. You need actual clothes."

He reached out, arm hovering over my shoulder but not quite touching me before retracting it and stuffing his hand into his pocket. It's weird, but I don't say anything because this entire situation is pretty strange. We slide down the roof and I'm once again surprised at how he can make almost no noise while having only one arm. I sound like an elephant walking on bubble wrap.

For a heart-stopping second, the car stalls and he curses, slamming his palm against the wheel. With a cloud of smoke and a few "oh shit"s, we burst down the empty road. I'm fuzzy headed with panic. The noise could have woken the dead, much less my dad. If he saw me doing this, he would probably disown me.

We stop in front of a dark storefront. If I squint, I can just make out the outline of the letters "Fine Suits".

"Can you pick the lock, Kurosaki?"

We walk up to the door, which not only has a lock embedded in it but a padlock and chain looped around the handles as well.

"I can, but I don't think they want us to," I say, already taking the bobby pins he hands me and leaning down to grasp the padlock. The chain hits my knee as it rattles to the ground and I flinch backwards, landing on my ass in a rather ungraceful manner. The second lock is easier to pick and I'm opening the door less than a minute after I began cracking it.

Grimmjow chuckles and follows me in. "I'd kill for two arms and skills like those."

He hits a light switch and we're surrounded by headless mannequins donning suits that were more passable than fine. We both choose a suit and I begin to strip behind a couple of mannequins. I don't care about him seeing me shirtless. I've been in the boy's locker room a thousand times, probably more.

I figured Grimmjow had too, so I'm surprised when he slides into a changing room and closes the door firmly. The click of the lock cuts through the silence.

When he comes out, I have to work hard to keep from staring. Even with one limp sleeve, he looks like he's going to prom and is the date that everyone's jealous of. If he wasn't my prom date, I would probably be jealous too. The whole thing just sits right on him, the creases creasing in the correct places and making up for the lack of a tie. His collar's unbuttoned and shuffled in perfect disarray.

My suit's rather plain in comparison, a little loose around the waist but the red tie looks nice. And since I tied it rather than my dad, it isn't slowly strangling me. Grimmjow grins.

"That's better. Now give me your clothes so we can burn them."

He wasn't lying. The smoke smelled terrible. It wasn't like a campfire at all.

We went to a 24 hour ice cream place afterwards. It turns out the suits were either rental or sold by kind people; Grimmjow found $20 in the pocket of his pants. I found a ball of lint. We'd burned that in the fire too.

There's a woman and a girl in the shop, surprisingly enough. We're both picking at chocolate cones when the girl cautiously walks over to us.

"Can I touch your arm sir?" Grimmjow flinches and looks at her in disbelief for a split second, the shock quickly changing to patience. He hands me his cone and holds out his arm.

"I-I mean the other one."

He doesn't try to hide the shock this time. Hand shaking, he unbuttons his jacket as the child's mother tries to pull her away, whispering "sorry" and "I don't know why she's like this". Grimmjow waves it off and pulls off his jacket, sliding down the shirt beneath to expose a lumpy, uneven mass of scar tissue.

Tentatively, she reaches out her hand and places it on the center. Grimmjow looks like he's going to pass out.

Reaching down, she pulls up her right pant leg to expose a tiny prosthetic.

Grimmjow tips the table over bolting out the door. I throw our food away, apologize to the mother and the child, grab his jacket, and chase after him.

I hear him scream and my head buzzes with white-hot panic.

I find him huddled beneath a lamppost, panting and covered in sweat. He's shaking and shaking and I don't know if I should I put my arm over his shoulder or if that would make it worse. I crouch down next to him and move as close as I dare to.

"H-h-how long do you think it's been dead?" He points a trembling finger at a tiny brown lump on the ground. I look closer at it.

It's a bat.

I try to keep my voice even.

"Probably a few hours. It doesn't even smell that bad yet."

He reaches out and grabs my tie, unworking the knot and slipping it off my neck. He wraps it carefully around its body, tucking it into his shirt pocket when he's done.

"We have to give it a funeral."

The park feels like a horror movie and a sad indie movie at the same time. We found a spot between the forest and the farthest bench and buried it. I was seriously hoping we didn't bury it in the sandbox because the ground gave away seriously easy.

Grimmjow's aura is gone. All of the panic pixie dream beingness has evaporated and all that's left is Grimmjow. It's a little scary.

"Wait. It's missing some incense. But we'll have to be quiet. Extremely quiet."

The car inches along the roads of a crap neighborhood, contrary to its usual breakneck speed. He stops the car and we walk the last three blocks to a generic and rather dilapidated house that wouldn't be hard to call a glorified trailer.

"There's a pile of wood on the left side. Duck beneath all windows. If you make any noise, run that way as fast as you can." He speaks in what is barely a whisper, slowly pointing to the left.

"There's a taxi service thing that you can use to get home." He presses the remainder of the $20 into my pants pocket.

Climbing onto the roof feels like defusing a bomb. The shingles are loose and they shift beneath my feet. Grimmjow climbs like he's done this hundreds of times. We wriggle over to a dirty skylight. Inch by inch, he pushes it open.

"Stay here." I mutter an "okay". Grimmjow slides into the house.

The last thing I hear before I almost twist my ankle getting off the roof and running away is the sick sound of a fist connecting with a face and the scream of "RUN".

I'm trying I'm trying. I'm on vacation and I left all my story notes behind, so I'll probably update this chapter when I get back with better words.

Happy 6/15 guys

I promise some mansmut on the grimmichi collection

In the meantime, you should check out Rough Silk

* shamelessly self-advertises *