Lendra-chan – Yeah, so … I updated much faster than some would expect. A though just hit me and I immediately wanted to get it down on…paper? Ah, anyway.

IT'S ME BIRFDAY:D .. Well, JUNE FOURTH IS MEH BIRFDAY. I am 16 at 6:13pm June 4th which now passed! Hoorah:

Okay, so - This little tid bit of writing is AU! Yay for Alternate Universes! Hur Hur

Onward!

Disclaimers – I do not own Ichigo, Rukia, or their amazing awesomeness. Though I do own the idea that Ichigo is now a PIANIST! Like moi :

Warnings – AU and people are older than they were – the horrors! Also, language could get rowdy.

Book Four

Boozy Blues in Chicago

"Gimme a B-52."

Turquoise eyes glared down at the half-sedated man.

"No."

"Please," he added with slurred sarcasm.

"No. You're drunk."

"How 'bout a Black Jack-"

"No, dammnit!" He was really testing the short bartender's patience.

"Smoking Loon Merlot?"

"I said no, you-"

"Martini?" His voice proceeded higher with every plea for a drink.

"Dammnit all, Kurosaki, you're going to drink yourself down the friggin' Mississippi River. You've had enough. NO."

The man leaning against the bar with his palm loosely encircling around an otherwise empty glass of melting ice snorted loudly and glared bloodshot amber eyes to his white haired friend.

"Sheesh; who shoved the icicle up your ass?" He asked mostly to himself as he sloshed the ice cubes around in a circular motion.

The bartender glared as he stuffed his towel covered hand into the hollowed out section of a glass.

"You and your relentless drinking after closing hours."

A snort came from the drunken male as he brought his lips to the rim of the cup – attempting to get the last drops of his remaining drink before clacking it down onto the counter.

"I thought you were open until 3:00am on Weekends."

"2:30am. Half an hour change since Hisagi left the bar in my charge."

Ichigo snorted and propped himself abruptly against his open palm and continued to fiddle with his glass.

"2:30am then—" He muttered something afterwards about enjoying Hisagi's hours better which earned a short lived glare from the boy across from him.

The white haired male sighed and tinkered around restlessly behind the bar counter as he cleaned up the mess his friend and also stubborn customer had made; when everyone else had returned home for the night.

"I am when it's not nearing the holidays, Ichigo. You know the hours are changed to 1:00am."

"Hmph," he grunted indifferently as he brought the cup to his lips again. However, the glass was snatched from his palm. Ichigo glared up at his friend whom he demoted at that moment. For the time being, anyway.

"Ass-hole," he had growled between his teeth as he sunk down into the sanctuary of his folded arms on the counter; not breaking his glare for the vigorously working male. All those who were not Toushiro knew to never get in the way of Ichigo and his Dixie Dew's when he was determined to get a memory obliterating hangover.

"You'll be thanking me for this later." There was confidence in his tenor voice, though little remorse dabbled in with it. He grabbed several glasses between his fingers and carried them over to the sink quickly on the other side of the bar. Ichigo grunted and hid his face in his arms – his forehead pressed comfortably against his forearm as his shocking hair stuck out like an unhinged contrast against the reality hair colors.

"What the hell happened anyway? You just barged in here and ordered the heaviest liquor we had. I mean, screwed up is your function, Ichigo, I know; but something's thrown you out of your loop."

Ichigo gave a grumble through the material of his forearm and shifted his head to rest in the opposite direction. Hitsugaya Toushiro, an old friend of his from high school leaned over the counter and stared at the fiery carrot top – obviously befuddled with the quirk from his lip.

"…Is it Inoue?"

Ichigo shook his head profoundly.

"We broke that off over a month ago . . . we never really had anything past friendship anyway; too awkward."

Hitsugaya's turquoise eyes narrowed as he bowed his head just a little lower.

"It's that dancer, isn't it," he stated; his tenor voice low and heavy.

Ichigo stilled.

Hitsugaya's eyes hazed and his head dropped knowingly in the familiar behavior of his long time friend.

"Ichigo…you've been hung up about this girl since last April."

Ichigo rolled his eyes and glared at his white haired friend. It irritated him when he'd criticize him, but it further annoyed him when Hitsugaya referred to her as though he had only knew of her through tales and vague, distant sightings of her.

"I met her last April, Shiro…" He buried his head into his forearms and scowled as he grumbled in a second response. "-and I am not hung up."

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow at his orange haired friend and grunted

"You drink more hard liquor rounds than I can count on my fingers and toes and then try to tell me you're not hung up. Hungover seems to be your specialty these days."

Hitsugaya snickered at the pun as Ichigo gave him a sneer and turned away from him; falling silent in the haven of his forearms. Hitsugaya watched him a moment before the grin slowly melted away from his face. He sighed and pushed off the bar to saunter over on the other side of his nearly sedated friend where his angry cinnamon glare was directed.

"Ichigo, I know… she…Rukia was very, very talented; she is very talented. And everyone seemed to have her charm grow over them like a weed on Miracle Grow – she became more a part of us here than anyone I think I've ever known." Ichigo sniffed and rotated his head to glare in the other direction – half wanting to hear what Hitsugaya had to say, and half wanting to gag him until he choked on his own tongue.

The former decision presided. Hitsugaya was rarely in the mood to talk, let alone admire someone.

Hitsugaya growled and switched over to the other side of Ichigo once again to gain his full attention the best he could.

"But Chicago, Ichigo? What do we have to offer? Chicago's roots can only run so deep – and she was still growing. She came here to get discovered…and even though it took over a year to do so, it happened," he took in a deep breath and paused before he slapped his palm against the bar on each syllable of his next words.

"San Francisco, Ichigo. Talent Scouts from San Francisco found her here. Do you know the possibility of that happening?"

That was nearly a slap in the face. Ichigo knew, probably better than anyone, the torrent against the odds. Hitsugaya had silenced himself at his last statement, knowing the true impact of his words and wishing, only for a moment, that he could take them back. He shook his head, however, and continued.

"She had to cut ties, Ichigo. We were the reason she hesitated…if she didn't get out as quickly as she did…I don't think she could have left."

"She left without saying a goddamn word, Shiro! One doesn't up and leave like that! Not after all that happened…"

Ichigo shook his head and pounded a fist onto the bar countertop and lifted his head a bit higher than it was to stare up at the ceiling with a look of disdain. He resembled a man who had caught up in a mudslide of continuous degrading. His life had taken dramatic dips like that before, though the hazy cloud of depression never clung to him as fervently as it had then.

Ichigo was really liking the backing of the barstools; gave him something to lean on.

"Four fucking months…"

Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What does four months have to do with anything? I know she left four months ago…but why four months to come booze yourself sick?"

Ichigo sighed and jerked his head down from the ceiling and pushed off the supportive backing to the stool he was perched upon. He groaned and threaded a hand through his orange locks; roving over the short spikes at the base of his neck. Ichigo desperately wanted a drink to fidget with.

"She was supposed to be back today. Just to confirm her final arrangements to move out of Chicago permanently… she never showed."

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and shook his head. He sighed as he dropped his elbows against the countertop and rubbed his temples.

"Ichigo, you need to move. On. We all loved Rukia, but Californian celebrities and past Chicago acquaintances don't mix. Get back with Inoue! She's good to you; and god knows, she may be good for you!"

Ichigo growled and slapped a hand onto the counter.

"I told you! It was way too awkward! Orihime is only a friend now and that's the way it should stay!"

"The only reason it was awkward was because she knew you were sleeping with Rukia when you were dating," Hitsugaya scoffed, growing rather bitter at his good friend's stubborn persistency to avoid any subject and suggestion that involved his possible progression. Otherwise known as 'forgetting Rukia completely.'

"Dammnit all, Toushiro, that only happened once! We were hysterical from the hit night performance and completely wasted to boot! Now gimme another fucking drink!" Ichigo had stood from his stool at that point; sizing his rather short friend up rather easily.

However, Hitsugaya didn't stand down. Ever since Hisagi had entrusted the bar in Hitsugaya's possession three months prior, he had been used to many a beating both verbally and occasionally, physically.

"Shit, Kurosaki, we are not coming full circle with this! I told you no before and my answer remains the same!"

Ichigo hissed and glared at the boy.

"Don't make me go violent drunk on you!"

Fists had been imbedded themselves into the fabric of each others shirts. However, they were distracted from their spout when the bell of the front door jingled and a little wrapped up bundle scurried in from the cold; turning their back to them to shut the door quickly to prevent the November snow from intruding the warm bar.

The bundled up being panted slightly and slowly started to remove the beanie hat and scarf; speaking gently as they did so.

"I'm sorry, Hisagi! I know your sign says you're closed, but your lights were on and I noticed your door was unlocked so I came in. I hope you don't mind, the snow storm's gotten wicked all of the sudden!"

She turned around mid sentence, "I had forgotten just how bad the weather—"

Lips froze and words ceased from collecting. Hat hair was an issue she never fussed over with such dark ebony locks that framed her familiar face. And pale cheeks were painted a rosey pink.

And from there, sapphire eyes reconnected with the cinnamons for the first time in four months.

There had never been, Ichigo decided, four months that had felt like an eternity.

TBC

Lendra-chan: omg, can't talk, it's late, gonna get grounded if I'm caught AH! Zomg, I've had this idea for so long! I love it!

PLEASE REVIEW TO GET THE NEXT CHAPTER!

THANKS!