PLEASE READ THIS-
A/N: Chapter 8 was updated, I added the omitted part! It's only like, 2-3 paragraphs, so if you don't read it that's cool. But if you were curious, that was my first real M-rated scene. seems pretty over that DELETE EVERYTHANG RAWR phase, so I'm cool.
I know I'm shit with updating, but I've literally been saving up money from working and doing art for people to pay for this trip. I'm studying abroad in Italy, so there's a major change in things. I just really feel like writing right now. I want to change to an art major, so writing really is a side hobby to me again.
So yeah, I suck, you hate me. Yup D: But here, this is all the stuff I thought up just like, an hour ago. We'll see how long it actually takes for me to write it all down.
Thanks for reading this-
Please enjoy!
Chapter Nine
Ignoratio elenchi
"Calm yer tits, captain. You're blasting off to Butthurt Four in the Asshole galaxy." Grimmjow couldn't stop a roar of a laugh coming from his mouth. This is why he kept Nnoitra around. The black-haired young man's teeth began to show in his grin, taking pride in making his friend laugh. Grimmjow calmed himself shortly, having his glittering canines showing for a moment before his grin turned back upside down.
"Don't tell me to calm my tits."
"Wheooo, we have lift-off." Grimmjow shook his head, tearing open the second mini-milk he'd gotten for lunch. He'd downed the first before even making it through the line he was so distraught. Grimmjow, Distraught! He thought about skipping school this morning, but took to being late instead. He needed that extra hour of sleep, but he sure didn't get it. Kurosaki's bright orange hair and brilliant caramel eyes followed him behind his eyelids all weekend. He couldn't bear to be in his presence in reality so soon. It was embarrassing how deep under his skin the ginger had gotten. How fucking retarded was it that he'd dreamt about him, much less letting his dominant nature take hold on the lithe man in a pantry. He nearly had the urge bubbling inside him in Algebra, watching him bite his lower lip, remembering how red it had become after they— Fuck, he wasn't even that turned on by guys. He didn't have anything against them or anything, but he hadn't gotten hooked on one before.
Shit. Hooked. Like a fish on a line.
"Earth to Dickrocket, krsht, Earth to Dickrocket."
"Dammit Nnoi, I'm tryin' to think."
"Houston, we've lost him." Grimmjow snorted again.
"Eat your lunch, before the mother ship is on your ass."
"Shit, someone seriously pissed in your coffee! What the hell do you want to think about so damn bad?" Nnoitra sat forward in his chair, his sharp elbows taking up his entire half of the square table. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his sub sandwich and chewing, avoiding giving a response. He was doing that a lot today. "Fine, don't tell me…psyche! I'll break into your house with food and make you talk. Guy talk or some girly shit. It's a bromance, that's what Shinji says."
"Huh, you're talkin' to Beans a lot lately," Grimmjow quirked a fierce, blue eyebrow. Nnoitra was suddenly interested in a different topic.
"Was just sayin'. You are free after school yeah? Or didja wanna skip. Cuz I'll stalk ya til ya tell me." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Though he did remember Freshman year when Grimmjow wouldn't tell him that Ichimaru was the one to rat out on the party. Nnoitra followed him for an entire day and a half—meaning he just made himself at home in Grimmjow's space and parent's house. At least they were used to Nnoitra and Grimmjow doing their thing in their home. Now they could just hang in Grimmjow's apartment without having to deal with his parents' working.
"Hm, skippin' probably won't go over too well. I went ta' gym late and Blondie bout ripped me a new one."
"Why'd ya go late, don'tcha got a third period?"
"Yeah." Grimmjow looked into his sandwich. Funny, he didn't know Ham would be a shade of orange. Shit, he hated that color now.
"Yeah? Well, ain't ya talkative." Nnoitra picked his tray up, his long fingers practically able to wrap around the entire thing. "If ya ditch me today, I will tear you a new one. See ya later." Nnoitra huffed, his high-pitched obnoxious tone lower than normal. He was bothered, obviously. Grimmjow told him everything, and now all of a sudden, he just couldn't bring himself to talk about…
"Fuck," he grumbled, crushing the small milk carton and standing from his seat as well. He really didn't want to talk to Nnoitra about whatever-the-hell he was going through. Did kissing Berry make him gay? What the hell had he been thinking?
He made sure his jeans were zipped up once more, for good measure. Rule number one of drinking: Go to the bathroom first. Grimmjow washed up and headed down the dim, hardwood-floor hallway leading back into the kitchen. Ulquiorra's house was massive, but he'd learned the layout after several of his get-togethers.
"Shut up and pick, Berry." Nnoitra's voice carried in the kitchen of Ulquiorra's. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, curious. Sure, Grimmjow only came to see if the freshman could hold their liquor, but he didn't think Nnoitra would get on that bitch Kurosaki's case so quickly. He looked like a lightweight. He was probably courting him around the bar giving him the "specials of the day". Budweiser, Vodka, Tequila, and an assortment of mixed drinks. He'd seen him do it to so many others before.
"C'mon Ichi, all in good fun. I'll make it worth yer while if ya pick me." Was that Shinji? He didn't even know when that pothead decided to be buddying up with Ichigo, but what did he mean by that? He stepped into the better-lit kitchen, spying Shinji, eerily close to a mass of orange hair, arm around his shoulders. Nnoitra was nearly mimicking him from the other side, but he was more looming, not leering. He did that to anybody with his height though. He saw Ichigo shiver. Shinji didn't understand personal space, obviously. He stepped over to them while Ichigo sputtered something under his breath.
"Grimmjow…" Said man's throat got clogged. What kind of voice was that? He sounded like he got caught jacking off in his room or something. His ears turned a little pink. Shit, he had already broken another drinking rule: don't go drinking horny.
"Yo, Grimmy!" Shinji straightened up and gave his best smile. Grimmjow felt warm, his throat starting to hurt. He just nodded, not wanting to risk his voice. He glanced back down at Ichigo, expecting an explanation. However, Ichigo's dark brown eyes moved from his feet back to Grimmjow's eyes, and quickly left the three to talk while he opened the fridge. He looked at Nnoitra.
"The hell were you two fags doin?" Stay calm, Grimmjow. Just act your normal self. His chest was feeling tight and it took every bit of strength not to have his voice laden with his hormones.
"Oh, Nnoi and me talkin' to your newest buddy. I told him ya talk a lot about him. Just havin' a chat, really." Shinji grinned, his eyelids going half-mast. He did that when he was up to something.
"Yeah right, I heard that comment, ya horny fucker," He growled. He wasn't in the mood for Shinji to spread his bullshit around the sophomore Kurosaki. Wasn't he allowed to talk about him? They just joke around in Algebra, and Nnoitra fucks with him plenty to make an interesting story.
"Whatcha mean?" Shinji smiled again, wagging his eyebrows a little. His light brown eyes shifted to the back of the sophomore he'd practically fondled, and back to Grimmjow. Hirako leaned forward on his toes, getting in Grimmjow's face. "I only speak tha' truth, and di'ntcha hear, he wants ya? He sure looks at ya like it too." Grimmjow's body moved faster than he could think, grabbing Shinji by the collar of his tee. Nnoitra jumped, taking a step back from Grimmjow as he clenched his other fist. Blue eyes were heated in anger; he'd teach that beanpole to worm into his business. What business? Was he getting defensive over that? Nnoitra cleared his throat suddenly, but quietly. Grimmjow glanced at his partner in crime, who led him to look across the kitchen to Ichigo, wide-eyed and curous.
Grimmjow set Shinji back on his feet, the boy letting out a loud sigh and fixing his collar. Kurosaki raised an eyebrow, and Grimmjow was just staring at him. Kurosaki locked eyes with him for the first time that night, stopping Grimmjow from moving. Then he looked away at a voice.
"So, I snatched this from the old man before leaving, you drink, Berry?"
Grimmjow moved to the back of the kitchen and kept to himself, but listened to every word. Soon, he'd drank a can of Bud, and Kurosaki fled to the living room. Nnoitra plopped onto the stool by Grimmjow.
"Do you think vodka would be good in Orange soda or is that too obvious." Grimmjow snorted, pulling his can down from his lips and crushing it.
"Leave the guy alone, yeah. He said he didn't drink and got pretty pissed at ya."
"Ya think?"
"I heard."
"Oh, well, he can get a lil' mad, it's good for 'im. So what'd Beans say to you?" Grimmjow frowned, glancing back at Nnoitra, who seemed to be sincerely curious. He scoffed.
"A load of shit."
"Huh, alright." He got back onto his feet and retrieved the 2-liter of orange soda from the fridge. While Nnoitra tried his best to be sneaky, he just looked stupid hunched over the table pouring delicate amounts of vodka into the bottle. Grimmjow looked around the room— Shiro was guzzling down drinks, Karakura seniors and a teacher laughing loudly in the corner, and more of his classmates were around the room. Strange, he usually made himself the center of party activity, but right now…he just wasn't feeling it.
Soon Ichigo came into the kitchen, picking up the bottle of Orange soda from the counter. Sighing, Grimmjow stood.
"Yo Ichi," Ichigo's eyes shot over to him, the shorter boy seeming to flinch. Why the hell would he jump at that, he'd called him Ichi before, right? "I wouldn't if I were you." Ichigo's gaze went to the bottle, his brow furrowing. Shit he looked good pissed. "Nnoitra spiked it for ya."
"How kind of him," Ichigo set the bottle back down, glaring into its depths. Oh, so Berry is pissed. Maybe he should've stopped his moronic partner from spiking one of the only non-alcoholic drinks that Ulquiorra provided. He went around to the fridge and withdrew a small bottle of Sunkist from the back, the seal wasn't broken. "Here, so what's your problem now," He grinned when Ichigo accepted the bottle and visibly relaxed at hearing the fizz. "bitch." It left him before thinking. He called Ichigo enough girly names for the night.
"Thanks, but I don't have a problem."
"Tsk, yer such a crap liar." He just watched Ichigo throughout their argument of algebra and his lack of doing homework himself. He wasn't as relaxed anymore, and he hadn't drank his soda. "So, spill." He finally returned to the subject. Ichigo looked down at the bottle, spinning the cap a few times.
"…drunk people piss me off."
Well, that got him somewhere. "Why?"
"That is none of your business." Nevermind, back to square one. He sighed, shaking his head as Ichigo drank from the bottle and proceeded no further in their talk. "Hang away from Shinji and Jiruga, then." And himself, for that matter. His stomach was flipping for who-knows-why, but he just wanted to talk to Ichigo more, to not have him upset.
"I'll see how the works out." Ichigo's smart mouth was seriously growing on him, he didn't know what he'd say next.
"Good, Ulquiorra is the only person that should frown at a party." He put his hand on Ichigo's head and ruffled the bleached, spiky hair. It was soft, and went even more directions when he did. He pulled back quickly and allowed Ichigo to leave the kitchen, fixing his hair. Shit, what was he getting into. He got the can of booze Ichigo refused off the table, cracking it open. Nnoitra slid up by him with a pout on his face.
"Ya fucked my plan up!"
"He woulda fucked yer face up if I hadn't. Can't have my baby boy going to the hospital already!" Grimmjow smirked, taking a drink. Nnotira rolled his eyes, leaning on the counter top, a bottle in his long fingers. It was almost empty.
"Sure sure, the party only gets fun when everyone gets drunk, ya know." He finished off the bottle in one gulp.
"Yeah, you and Shiro are usually on top of that." He took another drink of his beer.
"Yeah, where'd that white kid go anyways, didn't ya want him to meet Berry?"
"Doubt he's in the mood," he paused. "and I didn't say that." He played with the pop-top of his can. He'd had a talk with Shiro about the new group of Karakura kids. When he brought up that a certain orange-haired guy looked a lot like him, Shiro demanded all sorts of information from him whenever Grimmjow had a minute. Grimmjow didn't know much, but he knew enough to always keep him informed. In Algebra the last week, he mentioned his dad's profession as a doctor that made him attend this school, and his two younger sisters. It was all miniscule information, but to get some stories out of Ichigo proved difficult.
"Sure, sure,"
The thundering music stopped, being replaced by whistling. Grimmjow inwardly groaned, just feeling the shit-eating grin going onto Nnoitra's face. "Don't even start."
"C'mon Grimm, it's yer jam!"
"I don't wanna dance, ya pile." Dancing in a crowded makeshift dance floor with alcohol and a libido like his wasn't a great idea in Ulquiorra's house. The last thing he wanted was to wake up in his old man's bed.
"Ah c'mon!" He drowned out Nnoitra's excited pleas with more sips of his beer. "Oi, Shiro!" Great, now his other partner in crime was getting involved. The albino must have replied. "I'm tryin' ta tell Grimm to show his Moves like Jagger!" He faintly heard Shiro, but just shook his head.
"Shut the hell up," He handed Jiruga a new bottle of booze. Szayel slipped in behind them, retrieving an assortment of drinks and mixing them into the red solo cups. It was seriously freaking him out how precise the guy could be about his liquor. "Sup Pinks?"
"Nothing at all, Jagger." He didn't even remove that creepy smirk off his face from his response, leaving the kitchen. And almost bumping into Ichigo. Why'd he come back so fast? Time seemed to be going quickly tonight, as was his heartbeat. He heard Ichigo comment on all the members of the room, fully indulging in the drinks provided, buzzes all around.
"Told ya you shoulda stayed out." Ichigo shrugged in response, staying by the entrance of the kitchen, near a wooden door. Probably a closet. "So who else do you talk to about me, huh?"
The fuck did that come from?
"The fuck did that come from?" Grimmjow's thoughts were about as elegant as his speech.
"Well, Shinji, Shiro…" Oh, that's where the albino was. What else did Shinji say to him? They were together when he and Nnoitra arrived, come to think of it. Did he say the same thing to Ichigo as he did to himself? He was going to wring his neck.
"Whatever." Grimmjow didn't have much else to say. He didn't talk to anyone else about him, and what the fuck did it matter? They had class together, why can't he tell some stories to his friends.
"You're a crap liar!" Ichigo was already following him away from the entrance. He stopped in his tracks by the pantry, glaring over at the orange-haired student. No one called Grimmjow motherfucking Jeagerjaquez a liar.
"Why can't I talk about people, huh? Nnoirta talks about ya, your friend does, why can't I? There a law against it?" His tone grew harsher every beat. He felt like a wildcat just getting released into a field of prey, wanting to tear apart everything. Right now that was the occupants of the room, now staring. His blood was pumping, he just replied automatically to Ichigo, not even taking in account what he said.
"Whatever, then." Ichigo turned his back to Grimmjow, who hadn't even noticed they'd gotten closer. The tension was thick, though Grimmjow was just bristling. He felt a tap on his shoulder, and growled over his shoulder. His electric-blue eyes met grinning beige, and his arms were tugged out of his pockets and were used to throw him off balance and clatter back into the pantry. Who the fuck opened the door? His back hit a shelf and dropped a few boxes onto his head, though they tumbled onto the floor shortly. Then something much heavier dropped onto him, nearly knocking his lungs out. When he finally opened his eyes, Shinji was just waving from the doorway, and shut it.
"Shinji, I'm gonna tear you a new asshole!" That motherfucker was seriously gonna get it for all the shit he pulled tonight. He tried sitting up, but the position was way too awkward, and it didn't help that the weight was also trying to adjust.
"Sorry…" Grimmjow stopped. Forget tearing Shinji a new asshole, he was gonna shove his head up there and throw him into the river. Kurosaki was now seated on his lap, and it wasn't sitting well in his stomach. It was burning, the proximity of them both. Ichigo had fixed his bright-colored hair and now it was getting static, hanging right by Grimmjow's nose. At least he showered before the party, he smelled damn good. Fuck, he really should follow his drinking rules more often. Being horny in a closet with someone on your lap isn't a good situation. He grumbled under his breath, trying to suppress how cramped and hot he was feeling in this tiny-ass closet with Campbell's scattered on the dark shelves. "Well, get off." Please, he was gonna get dizzy sitting like this for much longer. Kurosaki nodded and gripped the shelves, trying to lift himself up, in the process stepping onto his foot. "Alright, quit it!"
"What?" Seriously, this kid is hopeless. Not that he could blame him, not every day you end up sitting on someone else in the smallest pantry in existence. He rolled his eyes, slipping his arm around Ichigo's waist and pulled them both up, awkward as it was. For a small guy, Ichigo was pretty fit. When he finally got his balance and some room, he released him. Ichigo didn't say anything for a moment, then a few more moments. Fuck, he didn't know, did he? Grimmjow fixed his shirt and his pants, though he did the latter a bit more subtly. He looked over at hearing the rattling of the handle. "He locked it." Ichigo said without looking over at him. Grimmjow nodded, playing with a string on the end of his shirt.
Grimmjow, fidgeting. Plenty of weird shit happening today.
"Sorry for talking about you." He broke the silence suddenly. They wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for that. Maybe if Shinji heard that he'd unlock the door and invite them to drinks. "Guess not everybody likes that." The door was unceasing, though. Ichigo finally turned and met his eyes for an instant, his blood pumping, then looked back to the side.
"…It's not a big deal." Well, if it wasn't, why'd you freak out so much? No, Grimmjow bit that thought back. He didn't want to make an enemy, oddly enough.
"If it helps, it wasn't anything bad."
"…I guess it does." After a minute, Grimmjow heard the smaller male chuckle lightly under his breath…he swallowed a lump in his throat.
"What?" his tone went to angry, to apologetic, to worried in a matter of minutes. What was this kid doing to him?
"This kinda reminds me of that game kids did at slumber parties, whatever it's called." Ichigo's voice was quiet, even more-so at the end. Grimmjow licked his lips as they became dry.
"Seven minutes of heaven."
"Yeah, that one." Still in that quiet voice. It made Ichigo seem way smaller than he was, though already smaller than Grimmjow. The space was quiet again, seconds ticking by like hours. Was that some kind of hint? Seven minutes of heaven his ass, this was a lot longer. What was he supposed to do? Shinji wasn't letting them out, and the space was just getting hotter, and both who occupied it. Ichigo's breathing in front of him was becoming more audible as the seconds passed. It really wasn't helping Grimmjow's situation. His orange-haired classmate was getting too far under his skin today, no, all the time. He hated his smartass comments. He hated how he called him a moron in class. He hated trying to outrun him in gym class when he participated. He hated how his hair was a beautiful red and smelled like strawberries. And he hated how fond he was of the sophomore.
That was when it happened. He grabbed the underclassman, delighted in finding he tasted as good as he smelled. Grimmjow's skin prickled, remembering the heat that surrounded them in that pantry, how he wanted his hands everywhere. This was fucked up. He wasn't gay, not a chance. He hadn't even drank that much, just a couple of beers! Grimmjow ran a large hand through his bright blue hair as the bell rang. Now he was late for class. Maybe if Nnoitra couldn't help him, he could let off some steam on the skinny fucker.
Uryuu rapidly skirted his pencil across the notebook page, taking down the final notes of Psychology class just before the bell. He finished his bullet point and put his notebook into his bag as swiftly as he could. He felt…odd. After talking to Nova that morning all he could think about was the upperclassman that had mysteriously gone missing. The bell rang, releasing all the students from school as 7th period had finally passed. He got up from his desk, waiting for the wild animals to shove through the door to salvation. The secretive red-haired young man's words were echoing in his head at any moment he wasn't transcribing his notes: "Text him".
Truth be told, Ishida wasn't a fan of technology. He had a simple phone with limited texting and unlimited calling, but he never called anyone. His father made him take it with him constantly anyways, not that Uryuu ever went out someplace where he'd need to call. Or out at all. He shook his head free of the thought again, pushing his glasses up his nose. Text him. Not here. He wandered down the busy halls. The Psychology room was on the first floor towards the back of the school with many doors. One lead out into the fields used for football, baseball, and other recreations, like horseshoes. Another door went straight into the center of the teacher's parking lot. The last one Ishida personally preferred— A twisting, clean-and-empty hallway dedicated to music classes. Several rooms were left empty for practices, a couple with a piano inside them to cancel out the sound. Back towards the exit door was the smallest of these rooms: white walls, blue carpet, and 56 square feet of space. This was Ishida's haven.
He shut the door behind him quietly, flicked on the light switch. It blinked a few times, the bulb nearing the end of its days, but persisted in illuminating the small space. Uryuu went to the back wall, lowering himself against it and retrieving the notebooks from his bag. He'd never be able to focus on his homework at home, and his father wasn't even there until late at night. He wouldn't be missed.
Text him. Uryuu shook his head again, scanning his notes. He didn't even comprehend what his eyes were looking through as Nova's voice persisted in his head. It was strange hearing Nova talk that much, even in his head. His phone felt like a brick in his back pocket, purposefully making itself known. He hesitantly pulled it out of his back pocket, flipping it open and holding his breath.
One new message.
Holy shit, that's the only message ever. That's what his phone should have said, the smartass piece of electronics. The screen dulled in disappointment. Ishida hit the center button, blinking as the screen was brought back to life and opened the message.
FROM: Szayel A. Grantz
Send me the assignment from Kurotsuchi's class today.
S.G.
Holy crap, it's him. And all he wanted was his homework! Ishida grumbled, taking his notebook and retrieving the problem numbers from the book due Wednesday. He looked at the screen, pressing New message. Now to figure out how to use T9.
It took a while to understand how to switch between numbers and letters, but he'd finally gotten something.
TO: Szayel A. Grantz
Chapters 4 and 5. All the questions at the end of them.
He stared at the screen. Should he say anything else? Is it prying to ask where he was, or worse yet, ask about the party. He quickly tapped out an additional sentence so he wouldn't have to dwell on it too much.
Were you sick?
He hit send and leaned further against the wall, smacking his head on it. He grumbled a little but kept the phone in his hand as he stated working on the same assignment. It was easy, since he'd written pretty much everything Kurotsuchi had said to keep his mind off of who wasn't at his side. His phone went off at the third section of chapter four.
FROM: Szayel A. Grantz
Thank you. No.
S.G.
Well, pink and cryptic is sure into his technology too. Ishida shook his head. He was already typing a response without a second thought.
TO: Szayel A. Grantz
Okay.
He began his reading. He hadn't even made it to the middle of section four before he received another reply.
FROM: Szayel A. Grantz
I do not appreciate one-word texts, Ishida-kun.
S.G.
TO: Szayel A. Grantz
I do not appreciate being left in the dark.
Oh fudge. He'd replied so quickly. Maybe that's why people liked T9, type first, think later. He set the phone down across from him, just staring at it in horror. He was texting him, and it wasn't about homework anymore. He fumbled for his book and put his nose into the pages, reading it thoroughly. Don't think about the phone. Don't think about the phone. He felt like a texting addict and he'd only sent three texts. He started to answer the six questions at the end of the chapter when the floor rumbled. Oh no. He glanced over at his phone, the backlight lit up as it indicated a response. He didn't even want to pick it up, but he couldn't take his eyes off the screen, even when it dimmed. He carefully flipped the screen open quietly, as if someone could hear it.
FROM: Szayel A. Grantz
Ishida-kun,
If you dislike it so much, turn on the light.
You have my address.
S.G.
Oh…fuck. If that wasn't an invitation he wasn't sure what was. What was he going to do now?
Ichigo stretched over the back of his large-wooden chair in front of the flat countertops in the art room. He'd always enjoyed doodling in class, so why not use his elective on Art? Sixth period was his relaxing time, and on normal circumstances, he'd want to do his homework and get it over with. But he had seriously taken a liking to the class and its teacher, Starrk.
Starrk Coyote made it clear that he didn't care for formalities, especially since Coyote-sensei just sounded weird. He studied in America as a freelancing artist and Ichigo had no idea how he'd gotten a degree. He was chill and got along with all the students, but slept like the dead at any possible moment. He kind of reminded him of Zangetsu-sensei: Stoic, level-headed, and pretty attractive. Ichigo sighed and looked to the clock: 2:35. Class would be over in 7 minutes. He got up from his seat and put his art project back into its folder. He'd started it last week: a graphite pencil drawing of a scene from the movie "500 Days of Summer", the part where she holds her arm up to see the drawings of the cityscape. The buildings were really proving difficult to get right, but otherwise it was obviously a work in progress. Something about movies really made Ichigo imagine dramatic scenes that would be good as a still image.
Starrk was wiggling a pencil in front of his face, doing the rubber pencil trick. He sighed, dropping it to his disorderly desk as he looked up to the clock, then at Ichigo and the class. "Close enough, head on out before Nanao sees ya." The kids silently uttered "yes" under their breaths and got out of their seats, exiting class early. Ichigo smiled; Nanao was the secretary that hated when teachers let their students out early. The school didn't like people lingering in the hallways.
"See you tomorrow, Starrk."
"Later, Kurosaki." Starrk waved and stood from his chair, pulling his hat on over waving brown hair. The temperature was already starting to drop. Ichigo headed out the door, walking down the Government and Economics hall towards the back doors. He only went out those doors when Starrk let them go early, as he'd have to face Nanao's wrath if he went to the front. The way to his house was in between the two means of escape anyways. He stopped as someone else exited a classroom—government, he thought, and nearly ran into him.
"Oh, excuse me." Ichigo stepped aside.
"Ah, Kurosaki-kun! Starrk let you go again?" Ichigo looked up at his blonde teacher and nodded. Urahara had classes on the third floor, but he was everywhere in this school at any given time.
"Not too early, Urahara-sensei."
"Of course not, Nanao-chan would have him strung up by his balls. Anyways, I was actually itching to talk to you." Ichigo's eyebrows rose. Urahara, wanting an impromptu talk? His thoughts could only drift to Algebra and his more-than-irritable partner. When Ichigo didn't reply, Kisuke Urahara slung an arm over his shoulder and walked down the hall, past the smallest of the school gyms, Junrinan, and into the music hall. It was eerily silent; band was during 5th period, and thus the rooms were unused. "Hope this ain't too awkward for ya."
"Uh, no, that's fine." Ichigo was still a bit confused over his teacher's behavior—hell, the entire day's events. He entered the band room, greeted by the empty cubby-shelves meant to hold instruments, now sparsely filled. Urahara let the sound-proof doors shut with a click, and whipped out his paper fan.
"This place needs some circulation…anyways, what happened in class today?" Urahara got relatively straight to the point. Ichigo wasn't sure how to reply, tossing his eyes side-to-side and running a hand through his hair.
"What about class?"
"Well, you and Jeager were gettin' along so well, and then you about went UFC in my classroom."
"Oh…I'm not really sure, Urahara-sensei."
"Urahara is fine enough, Kurosaki. Did something happen over the weekend?" Damn Urahara and his inquisitiveness. How could he read through him like that? "You both went to that party, didn't you?"
"How did—"
"Oh, Kurosaki, Matsumoto was invited and she never stops talking. Not only that but it was Aizen's house." Aizen's house? Does that mean…?
"But—"
"So, you need to talk it out with him, or something. Because if you start fighting or making up in class, I'll have to report that."
"…what's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo felt his cheeks turning red. Making up…how? He hoped it wasn't what Urahara was implying.
"Oh, you know!" He patted Ichigo on the shoulder, grinning ear-to-ear with eyes hooded by his hat. "But, he has a seventh period, so you could wait around for him outside."
"Urahara—"
"I got a class to teach, have fun! Off campus anyways." He slapped Ichigo on the back once more before leaving the music room, trotting off late to his seventh period students. Ichigo stared, bewildered at where he exited, and shook his head. Did Urahara know? How could he—by all normal standards Grimmjow and Ichigo were friends having some kind of disagreement. Though Ichigo never stayed mad at someone for long…no one else questioned him! Except maybe Renji and Nnoitra…god dammit, was it that obvious?
There was only one way to find out. He shifted his bag over his shoulder and left the music room, the halls still devoid of any people. He heard footsteps of students going to class late or exiting out the side, but it didn't matter to him. He went down to the lunchroom commons area and sat at a bench. The detention counselors were walking around making sure no one was goofing around during school hours. He caught the eyes of Komamura, the large mysterious man that previously served at Karakura. He wore dark glasses and had shaggy brown hair that covered his head and broad shoulders. He was intimidating at six-foot-six-inches tall, but he had that furry bodyguard look. Ichigo broke eye contact and withdrew his Algebra notebook, appeasing the bodyguard's scrutiny.
He couldn't work on homework. He glanced up at the clock ten minutes later to see that only four had gone by. This patience was killing him. How did people wait for busses here every day like this? He turned the page of his notebook and began his doodles. Unlike his art projects, these were freely cartoonish and representative of his sister's favorite manga artist. He could never remember the name, but Karin always wanted to see Ichigo draw her favorite characters. He'd started to pick up a few techniques in the process, but he was no artist. He drew Renji—broad, grinning, and decked out in his favorite style of basketball shorts, a screen tee with a donkey on it, and a trucker hat he had in middle school with the words RED on it. His brother apparently owned it before him, so it was torn up and dirty, but fit Renji perfectly. He'd have to show him this later. The donkey was an inside joke neither of them could really remember starting.
He started drawing all the Hueco companions he'd made; Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Shiro, he even put Shinji in with them. He saved Grimmjow for last. It took every inch of his being not to make him look like he was mentally damaged. He got his broad shoulders and firm jaw to a T. His hair on the other hand wasn't cooperating with his pencil. He left it as-is, moving instead to drawing him in the same outfit he had at the party, including those ridiculously nice jeans that fit him too well.
The bell chimed and the halls were a clamor of students. Ichigo eyed the clock sourly, going fast when he was in the middle of something, of course. He stowed away his notebooks and slung the bag over his head, heading a "thunk" next to him: Someone's foot stomping on the wooden rickety bench beside him.
"Hey Berry!"
"Jiruga…" Nnoitra leaned back and put his hands up in front of him.
"Whoa, first Grimm and now you, huh…don't sound too happy ta see me." Grimmjow? What had he done to Nnoitra. He was acting civilized, for one, and maybe offended.
"…Sorry. It's been a long day."
"Right, maybe you should've had a drink at that party. Really loosens you up for Mondays…as long as you don't do it Sunday night, anyways." Nnoitra slunk after Ichigo every step her tried to take.
"Personal experience seems to be talking."
"Ah, shut up. So what's got ya in the dumps? Or better yet, Grimm said he skipped third period. Don't he have that class with'ya?" Ichigo swallowed but shook his head, keeping his eyes forward.
"No, second period I have Algebra with him though. He came in late."
"Did Urahara chew his ass out or somethin' then?"
"You'd have to ask him I guess." Ichigo shrugged, but he knew that Urahara hadn't said a word to them after class.
"Well now that ya mention it, I'm goin' ta meet up with him right now. Cheer him up a bit, then do some interrogatin'. Wanna help?" Nnoitra grabbed him by under the arm, nearly lifting Ichigo five inches from the ground and pulled him outside.
"N-noitra-senpai that's really not a—"
"What's with the senpai shit all of a sudden? Don't be a girl, I won't make ya drink if ya really don't wanna, shit."
"Who said anything about drinking?"
"How else do you get rid of Blue's blues?" He grinned, looking carefree as ever while dragging Ichigo through the parking lot. "We can take my beater, or we'd be nuts ta' butts on Grimm's bike." Ichigo tried not to dwell on that statement.
"Maybe…talking?"
"Well it didn't work this mornin'. With a lil' Jack in him he'll be flappin' his gums in no time." He finally released Ichigo of his vice. This drew no one's attention, as apparently within the first month of school this had become a common sight. Ichigo looked slightly over his shoulder, seeing the familiar bright blue motorbike. Nnoitra was practically holding a stakeout at his co-hort's parking spot. It was slightly endearing if not completely stubborn. Kurosaki let out a breath he'd been holding. Maybe this wouldn't be so impossible, he thought. Talking is what he wanted, and with Nnoitra there it would be…no, impossible. He tried stepping away from him silently when he spotted his worst fear. Broad shoulders and a tight, square jaw, glowing blue eyes ready to incinerate his clothes off (in one way or another), and that mess of Blue hair that looked perfect in reality and impossible in art. He chewed on his bottom lip, for once feeling completely powerless in this instance, and Nnoitra was dumbly unaware that they were each other's problem.
A/N: So, not too excited about this chapter as it's all re-cap for you guys. I hope it is still good for you though W I really want to write more, and it's just hard to get this moving properly while keeping times in mind. I'd love to catch up with Hitsugaya, but it's not that day yet :P so, maybe next time. I'm in a park in Rome and it's beautiful and asdfgh, I'm gonna start chapter 10 now. Please R&R!
