Hello again. Guess what? I have a plot now.

Also, I apologize for screwing up which eye is Nnoitora's eye patch in one of the earlier chapters. It's the left.

I think this is a long ass chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter 10: Stare Down Stalemate

Nnoitora pulled out another cigarette, pissed that he was down to his last two. Damn, he'd have to pick up some more later, after the Queen Bitch was done whining about the fucking practice session. Nnoitora swore to all the powers that be that if Halibel didn't shut the fuck up soon, he was going to shove his drumsticks so far up her tight ass her tonsils would get splinters.

It was almost ten at night, and the band had barely stopped for more than twenty minutes since their allotted time at three. Szayel wasn't even running the booth anymore. He had left hours ago, claiming he needed his beauty rest. Fuckin' fruitcake.

But Nnoitora didn't really mind: as long as he got to play, he didn't care about how long. He imagined he could go days, but right now, he wasn't feeling the atmosphere. There was something fuckin' goin' on around here, and he didn't like being out of the loop. He knew the berry bitch was frustrated about something, taking his anger out on his Zanpakuto. Even though Halibel and Stark had been encouraging him about trying different songs, he wasn't into it, not like he had been yesterday.

His voice wasn't bad, but there just wasn't that fire that Nnoitora had seen yesterday. No matter how badass he pretended to be, Nnoitora still recognized talent in others, even if he wanted to always surpass others' talents. It was just in his nature.

But with the berry pissed, Nnoitora had noticed Grimmjow was over the edge too. He wasn't talking, which was fucked up: Nnoitora had never known Grimmjow to be quiet; it was like fuckin' staring at a blue-haired, aggressive Ulquiorra.

And speaking of the fucking emo, Nnoitora thought Ulquiorra was being colder than usual too. What the HELL had happened since the club? Although Stark hadn't changed. Then again, Stark never changed. He was the most fuckin' predictable person on the planet.

So…did this have something to do with that little white-haired cream puff that Ulquiorra had dragged back to the hotel with them? Nnoitora continued to ponder the mystery of the drama as he finally smoked the cigarette down to the filter, flinging it over the edge of the balcony. Halibel had said a twenty minute break, but damn it if he listened to the bitch. She always got her way: she was like a fuckin' mom, and Nnoitora hadn't had a mom in…how many years now? Five?

It was his number, of course, wasn't it? The number he had tattooed on the side of his neck (he had wanted to get it tattooed on his tongue, but that hadn't exactly worked out. Besides, he liked his tongue ring just as much). But thinking about something that happened five years ago made him itch the patch that rested over his left eye, as if the old scar tissue remembered.

Shit, he didn't WANT to remember. The past was dead and buried, along with his mother.

Why the HELL was he getting all sappy? He pulled out his final cigarette, mumbling to himself about "pussy feelings" when he heard the sliding doors open.

"Can I bum one?" Grimmjow asked, making his way over to the railing, his cerulean eyes tired.

"Fuck, it's my last one," Nnoitora whined, debating, "besides, ya quit, didn'cha?"

Grimmjow shrugged, leaning on the railing to stare out at the bright lights of the city night, "Been tryin'."

"Then I'm willin' ta share," Nnoitora said, grinning as he lit it and took a drag before passing it to Grimmjow, "So, ya gonna let me in on the fuckin' issues goin' on around here, or ya gonna wait for me ta go psycho and kill somebody?"

Grimmjow exhaled a stream of smoke through his nostrils, contemplating, "I'm strangely comfortable with the second option."

"Come on…" Nnoitora grumbled, snatching the cigarette back, "Ya know ya wanna tell me. Anybody can feel that fuckin' atmosphere. Cut the tension with a fuckin' butter knife."

"And you were always the dense one," Grimmjow mused.

"Fuck you," Nnoitora replied, blowing smoke in Grimmjow's face (which wasn't hard, considering Nnoitora had a few inches on the blue-haired punk) "I've known ya long enough to know when somethin's fuckin' botherin'ya, and ya know what? I really don't give a fuck, but I don't want 'cher little pussy-ass attitude ruining my music mood, got it?"

"So, you really DO care," Grimmjow said, smirking, "didn't know ya had a soft spot in ya, Cinco."

"Shut it," Nnoitora grinned menacingly at the old gang nickname, "the past is past, ain't it, Sexta?"

Grimmjow grinned, his eyes a bit savage, "You ever miss the old days?"

"Fuck, we ain't THAT old," Nnoitora said, finally handing the cigarette back to Grimmjow, "we're only 21. Those 'old days' were only a few years ago."

"Feels like a century ago," Grimmjow mused, the cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth, "and you didn't answer my question."

Nnoitora unconsciously ran his hand over his left arm, which was covered in gang-related tattoos of vicious skulls and Spanish phrases, "We were kings. Of course I fuckin' miss it."

Grimmjow quietly puffed away at the cigarette before answering him, "So who the fuck are we now, Nnoi?"

Nnoitora's shit-eating grin took over his face, "We're still kings, ain't we? Joining that gang, becoming a Hollow: that was to fuckin' survive to see the next day. Then we got strong enough to make it on our own, make our own path as Espada. Wasn't that what we were always plannin' to do from day one?"

Grimmjow remembered as if it were yesterday. They had been so young and stupid back then. Violent vigilantes, exactly what the street gang known as The Hollows had wanted. Grimmjow could still remember when Nnoitora and him had gotten their asses kicked for the first time in their lives; they had never thrown a fight, ever, until that night of initiation. Then they had had to prove their loyalty through other inappropriate and illegal ways, but it had been worth it: a place in a gang was a place of security, especially in the districts they had both been cursed to grow up in. Grimmjow and Nnoitora had rolled together since they were ten years old, had joined The Hollows at thirteen and hadn't managed to get out of the life until almost five years later. Needless to say, the gang had been pissed. You didn't leave The Hollows: The Hollows left you. The Hollows had been brothers, family: all of them had watched each other's backs like blood relatives; stronger somehow. In a sense, Grimmjow still missed that reliability and loyalty, but the life had kept gnawing away at him until he had been desperate to get out. And music had helped him do that. And Nnoitora, always the free-wandering spirit, hadn't had a problem saying goodbye to the people they had spent five years of their lives with.

Then it had been a matter of surviving the un-initiation. Being beaten into a pulp the first time hadn't been fun, and certainly leaving the gang had been much worse. But, eventually, both had crawled away alive, so they could be thankful for that. Both bore the scars from the iron prods The Hollow members had used on the tattoos on the backs of their necks, the ones that had been their tag and marker. Grimmjow had never felt such pain in his life, although Nnoitora had, considering he had lost his eye the same year due to another incident that would never be forgotten.

Grimmjow was just thankful he hadn't gotten the fucking gang tattoos on his arms or his chest for the world to see. As for Nnoitora, he had been a little more aggressive and proud about his status, so he had gotten nearly an entire sleeve done. Grimmjow had only the scarred-over tag on the back of his neck and the relatively-large number 6 on his back, a tattoo that had been a spur-of-the-moment decision while drunk with his gang family. It was appropriate: he had always had a fondness for the number six, had been the sixth strongest fighter, and had grown a reputation and the nickname of Sexta.

Nnoitora, of course, had been ranked fifth, but Grimmjow wondered if they got into a fight right now if he could take him. Of course Nnoitora had height, but Grimmjow had build…

"What the fuck you thinkin' 'bout?" Nnoitora interrupted, snatching the cigarette back before it was useless.

"Thinkin' 'bout if you still got the moves to beat me in a fight."

"Che," Nnoitora stomped on the now-useless cigarette, smashing it under on of his large black boots, "Anytime, Sexta. I'll wipe the fuckin' floor with your useless ass."

Grimmjow laughed and laughed hard: damn, he hadn't laughed all day. It felt good to release some tension. The nicotine from the cigarette was starting to calm him down as well, and he knew Nnoitora wouldn't really fight him unless they were playing around. They had always had each other's backs, and now that they weren't in a gang wasn't going to change anything.

So Grimmjow decided to open his fat mouth, "I'm with Ichigo."

"No SHIT, Sherlock," Nnoitora hissed, smacking Grimmjow on the forehead, "all of fuckin' Japan should know that by now."

"We got in a fight, I guess," Grimmjow said, ignoring Nnoitora's physical attack, "Schiff's involved 'cuz of that white-haired baby, so that's what's up. That's all you're missing."

Nnoitora couldn't help but cackle: shit, he should have fuckin' been a detective, "Figured that much out. So why don't'cha go kiss and make up?"

"I wanna give him some space. He's fuckin' pissed."

"Pissed is good," Nnoitora said, sidling over to the sliding doors, "angry sex is the fuckin' best. No, I take that back: makeup sex is the fuckin' best. Either way, you win."

Grimmjow grinned viciously, not able to help his oldest friend's crude take on his emotional issues, "you're a fuckin' whore."

"Better a fuckin' one than an ugly one," Nnoitora shot back, bending over so he could fit under the smaller door frame, "Come on, Hal's probably havin' a heart attack by now."

Grimmjow shook his head, clearing it as best he could before following Nnoitora back to the studio room.

XXX

"I think that's enough for one night," Stark said, hiding a yawn, "If we're going to practice tomorrow, we have got to get some rest."

"Fine," Halibel said, seeming pleased that they had gotten nearly 9 hours of practice in, "let's meet up here tomorrow at two to go over the line-up for Zaraki's."

Everybody mumbled consent before switching amps off and clattering around to get their things. All the lights and switches were eventually turned off before everybody took separate ways down the hallways, splitting to get to their modes of transportation. Ichigo had asked Stark for a ride home, which he didn't feel the least bit guilty about, even if he did feel Grimmjow's eyes boring into his back the entire time.

He had mumbled goodnight to everybody, but he still hadn't said more than a handful of words to Grimmjow.

It wasn't that long later when Stark had dropped Ichigo off at his apartment and he was lying in his futon, too tired to shower or change. Shit, today had been intense. He had never minded practices, but this was grueling. Then again, they only had two more days until Zaraki's, and Ichigo was nervous enough.

He rolled over, rummaging for his vibrating phone, annoyed at the caller i.d.

"What now?" he said, not bothering to sound nice.

"Hey," Rukia said, her voice flighty. Maybe she was nervous. That was good.

"What do you want?" he asked again, getting extremely agitated. Enough shit had gone down today without adding his cheating ex-girlfriend.

"Have you talked to Renji?"

"I'm hanging up."

"Don't!" Rukia cried, sighing, "Look, I was a bitch. I can understand that you're pissed and angry, but you and Renji have been friends for FOREVER. He's really depressed, even Byakuya is worried…"

"And that's my problem how?" At this point, Ichigo didn't care how he sounded. He just wanted to sleep, "Look, I AM pissed about what happened, but if Renji needs you to pull a sob story for him so that I'll feel bad and go running back to him, he needs to get his fucking head examined."

"Can you just TALK to him?"

"What is there to talk about?" Ichigo seethed, slamming his head into the mattress, "You guys make no fuckin' sense. Why don't YOU be his new best friend? Maybe he'll fuck your next boyfriend and you'll know how I feel."

"That's not fair," Rukia murmured, and for a second Ichigo actually did feel bad.

But only for a second, "Life's a bitch, Rukia. But, you can tell him something for me."

"What is that?"

"That I've been invited into a new band," Ichigo replied, not ready to give away full details yet. He hadn't even told Byakuya and Tosh yet: they had been told a little white lie that Ichigo had met Grimmjow randomly in the street and had struck up a friendship. Far fetched, but neither had questioned it, "if Renji's really ready to make amends, tell him to find a fucking way to get into Zaraki's Monday night."

"Zaraki's?" Rukia sounded incredulous, "How'd you…! That's incredible, Ichi."

Ichigo cringed: he didn't like her calling him by his nickname. It rubbed him the wrong way now, "As far as I'm concerned, you can go with him."

"I don't get it. Why?"

Ichigo sighed, "Isn't that what dates usually consist of? Don't tell me you're not going out with him now after all of this."

"I'm not," Rukia defended, sounding extremely pissed, "we slept together months ago, Ichigo. We tried to explain that to you. We were drunk, that was it. End of story. We don't want to date. Not ever."

"Touching, really," Ichigo said, taking a look at his glowing alarm clock, "but I'm fuckin' exhausted, and I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You're never going to grow up," Rukia countered.

"And you're never going to stop being a cheating whore that has a few drinks and spreads her legs for the first Neanderthal to wander her way," Ichigo said, unable to help his biting reprieve, "goodnight, princess. Sleep tight."

He hung up, not interested in whatever Rukia had been about to call him. All he knew was that it had been something nasty.

But he didn't care. He was over all this bullshit. And what exactly was he thinking? Telling Rukia something like that? Why the hell did he want Renji to show up at the premiere?

Oh, that's right: to rub it in his fucking face.

But something in the pit of Ichigo's stomach told him that wouldn't make him feel the least bit better. In fact, Ichigo was sure it would only make things worse.

Then again, he knew he couldn't move on from this problem with Renji and Rukia until he was accomplishing something, doing something he had promised he would do. If Renji saw that Ichigo was capable of making it on his own…

He didn't need Renji's bullshit, or Grimmjow's jealousy, or Ulquiorra's stubbornness.

Right now, all he needed was sleep.

XXX

Sunday flew by, and the practice had been another long one, but no one had the energy to complain. Halibel and Grimmjow had done most of the deciding for the song line-up, Stark and Ulquiorra in their own little worlds as Ichigo struggled not to strangle someone.

Damn, he WANTED to talk to Grimmjow, but a part of him was just too damn stubborn.

It was Grimm's fault, why wasn't he trying to fix it? Those deep galaxy blue eyes looked his way every once in a while, but Ichigo could never keep the stare. When Ichigo caught himself staring at Grimmjow, he would immediately look away.

What the FUCK was going on? Why did he even CARE about a stupid little misunderstanding or jealousy? If he was honest with himself, Ichigo had to admit it felt kind of good to know Grimmjow was that loyal.

But Ichigo's stubbornness was on par with a mule, and he didn't know how to fix it.

Halibel had actually been in a relatively good mood, telling Ichigo that he was doing really well considering the time constraints. Everybody was glad to head out around seven, leaving the rest of the evening for Ichigo to go back to his apartment and busy his hands.

Ichigo was generally a neat person, but his apartment had become a bit rough over the past few weeks. Sometimes he got into funks of laziness and didn't want to clean, but right now, he needed to keep himself busy. It was lame, he'd admit it, but there was something calming and therapeutic about cleaning and organizing his apartment, almost as if he could organize the thoughts in his mind.

After scrubbing the bathroom until it sparkled, mopping the floors and dusting every available surface, he crashed on the couch, contemplating ordering pizza. His stomach was starting to grumble, but he didn't want to spring the cash.

Which had become a bit of a problem lately. The apartment was actually extremely cheap, as the complex was owned by an old colleague of his dad's and had managed to get it for a steal by association. It didn't hurt to have friends in high places, but between school and band time, Ichigo didn't work more than fifteen hours a week at his part time job. Urahara understood though, and tended to be flexible for Ichigo's constantly changing schedule.

He gave Urahara a call then to make sure he wasn't scheduled to work after school the next day as Halibel had stressed how important it was that they be at Zaraki's no later than six p.m.

"Helloooo~, Urahara Shoten Sugar Shop, how can I help you?" Kisuke Urahara sing-songed, making Ichigo snort.

"Heyya, boss. Just checkin' on my schedule."

"Well well, let me see…" Ichigo heard him shuffle around on the other side of the line, moving a few papers around. Ichigo rolled his eyes: he genuinely loved the guy, but he was so messy Ichigo didn't know how he functioned. He had heard that true geniuses tended to be messy: if that was true, then Urahara was the most brilliant person in Japan.

"I have you on for Wednesday and Thursday after school," Urahara announced, his voice becoming serious, "So why the quick cancellation for tomorrow, hmmmm?"

Ichigo had never lied to his boss, so he didn't see a reason to start now, "I'm, um, actually performing at Zaraki's."

There was dead silence for several seconds, then an explosion of "Congratulations!"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You GUESS? Ichigo, that's incredible. I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks," Ichigo's face was heated: he was always embarrassed when he received praise.

"Soul Society is doing really well then, huh?"

Ichigo felt a lump grow in his throat, "Actually, Urahara, I…quit…Soul Society."

"I don't understand," Urahara said, his voice incredibly serious.

"It's complicated," Ichigo said, his eyes now closed as he concentrated, "but I'm with a new band now, and I'd appreciate it if you kept the information to yourself. I'm not ready for people to know about my decisions just yet."

"Of course, Ichigo," Urahara said matter-of-factly, "Anything for my favorite employee."

Ichigo snorted, "Sure sure. Tell Ururu and Jinta hi for me."

"Will do. 'Night, Ichi," Urahara said, his voice gentle before hanging up.

Ichigo, his apartment now clean and his responsibilities cleared, declared himself worthy of friend time. He texted Tosh about meeting up for dinner, which had always been code for "help I'm hungry and you're an amazing cook." Tosh immediately texted back, telling Ichigo he'd be over in an hour to make hot pot.

Ichigo laid back, sighing, content that his buddy was on his way to rescue Ichigo from instant ramen (again). He flipped idly through the channels, his eyes never really focusing on what was playing. He passed the Hogyoku Channel, his face burning at the memory of the match and Grimmjow's challenge.

Which only made Ichigo think about their first kiss, which led to Ichigo's first experience with a boy, which had led to Ichigo opening his eyes to the possibility of being gay. Which, for some reason, wasn't so hard to accept now. It made him not feel too upset about Rukia, especially since she had hurt him so bad he didn't know how he would react if he had actually craved her physically and emotionally. The more Ichigo thought about it, the more he realized he had treated her more like a friend with benefits than a girlfriend. Ichigo had only had two relationships prior to Rukia, and neither had lasted more than a month. Ichigo didn't particularly have an attraction to women's breasts, hips, or butts: yeah, they were there and he didn't have a problem staring at them, but did he feel a jolt of lust whenever he saw a smokin' hot girl? Nah, not really. And how many times had he actually pulled out of Rukia and had to finish himself off because he couldn't cum inside her?

Shit, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to click together.

Soon there was a knock on the door and Ichigo rushed over, his mouth salivating at the thought of Tosh's food. Tosh was four years older, thus in Ichigo's mind, a much more experienced cook. Although Tosh lived in the dorms for Karakura's only college, he still managed to cook and survive in his small dwelling place as good as anybody in an apartment or house. He had a plastic bag in one hand, full of ingredients.

"What's up?" Ichigo asked.

Tosh shrugged, immediately starting to chop up vegetables as soon as he was in the kitchen, "Soul Society met up yesterday for practice and to, you know, talk about…replacing you."

"Oh," Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head, "How'd that go?"

"Byakuya wants to start auditions as soon as possible; we've already committed and paid the entrance fee for the festival. We want to be there," Tosh said, the knife flying over a carrot, "and we want to win."

Ichigo nodded, "You guys will. I know it."

"Ha," Tosh snickered, "Yeah, well, won't really matter when your best friend is the opening act."

Ichigo's jaw dropped, "H-how did you know?"

"Oh please, you really think Byakuya and I are that dense? You just happened to run into one of Japan's hottest musicians and conveniently get invited to a night partying?" Tosh smiled devilishly at Ichigo, turning away from the cutting board a moment, "And the way you were looking at Grimmjow, I thought you might drown in your own drool."

Ichigo's face instantly flamed, "It's only been a few days. I mean, nothing's final. I mean…shit…how did you know I was…?"

"I'm not mad, Ichigo. Actually, I'm the exact opposite. I'm stoked for you," Hitsugaya's face held a smirk, "and as for you being gay, your closet has always been cracked open."

"Really?"

"Really," Hitsugaya shook his head reassuringly, "besides, you seem really happy when you're with them. You deserve to be happy."

Ichigo had thought coming out to his friends would have been more dramatic, but then again, this was Toshiro: he was hard to get worked up about anything, "And what about you? Are you happy?"

Hitsugaya was rummaging in Ichigo's refrigerator, "Tell me you have butter, Ichi. I didn't bring any."

"Uh-uh, you're not avoiding this one," Ichigo said, his arms folded over his chest, "What about Ulquiorra? Did he make you unhappy?"

"No, he didn't," Tosh said, closing the door to the fridge and leaning against the counter, "he's actually…really sweet."

Sweet? Was Ichigo hearing correctly? The stone cold vampire lord of Espada was SWEET? "Really."

Toshiro's face was bright red, "I – I'm the one who made a fool of themselves. He didn't do anything. In fact, he made me feel so…comfortable. Even though I had been a complete idiot, he said…he had said he wanted more time with me."

Ichigo was dumbfounded: so the green-eyed albino hadn't been a jackass.

…Which meant Ichigo had been the jackass, "Oh."

Hitsugaya looked at him, his ice blue eyes piercing, "I like him, I like him a lot, a lot more than I've ever liked anybody, and I'm scared. I was a complete idiot getting drunk like that, and then, and then waking up next to him, I just panicked. I…I'm such an IDIOT, I should have said something, I was just so…God, Ichi, I'm so embarrassed."

"I'll talk to him," Ichigo said, mentally slapping himself for being an overbearing jerk, "He does seem…pretty serious, Tosh."

"Really? He talks about me?" Tosh asked, his face suddenly full of hope.

"Uh, actually, I threatened him," Ichigo said, looking sheepish, "I told him to leave you alone and if you got hurt…I didn't specify the form of death, but I'm sure he has a vivid imagination."

"Yeah, he does…" Tosh said, his face even more inflamed.

Ichigo cleared his throat, fighting images of his white-haired friend panting and moaning as a silent Ulquiorra rhythmically moved against him…

Jesus, where had THAT come from?

"Uh, I'll fix it," Ichigo said, trying to clear his mental porn show, "You know what, come to Zaraki's tomorrow."

"Zaraki's?" Hitsugaya's eyes widened, "Renji texted me earlier today about that, asking me to go with him. He wants the whole band to go, to check it out. Why would you do that, Ichi?"

"I wasn't thinking," Ichigo said, slapping his forehead, "Shit, I was on the phone with Rukia and things got heated and…it just slipped out of my mouth. I wanted to see his face when he saw me on stage, make him suffer a little…"

"You're fucking evil," Hitsugaya said, pulling out pots and pans and clanking them on the counter, "but I like your twisted little mind. You think we'll be able to get tickets?"

Ichigo grinned and disappeared into his room, returning with four glossy cards, "Courtesy of Yoruichi Entertainment."

"No shit!" Tosh said, grabbing them out of Ichigo's outstretched hand.

Ichigo shrugged, "Aizen gave them to us this morning." Ichigo didn't mention that his (hopefully) new boss had also been extremely agitated at the boys for going out and partying Friday night, "doing god knows what" as he had said. He had been extremely pissed, although he had never yelled. It was the tone of his voice that got Ichigo on edge: the man had power, incredible power, and he could be fierce when he was angered. Ichigo didn't think he had started off this new relationship very well. But Aizen wasn't completely unforgiving, and Yoruichi Entertainment sponsored Zaraki's and had given him extra passes for private friends.

"This is perfect," Tosh said, sliding them into his back jeans pocket, "although, how am I going to explain having four VIP passes to one of the hottest music houses in the city?"

"I don't know: raffle? Radio? Ebay? Whatever, Renji's a dumbass: he won't question it," Ichigo said, popping a piece of raw carrot in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully, "now that the revenge is within reach, it feels kinda immature."

Toshiro smiled, punching Ichigo playfully on the shoulder, "You're in high school: maturity doesn't exist. Now come on, if you want to eat before midnight, you'd better start chopping."

Ichigo grinned and complied, chopping away as Toshiro chattered away about what he would say when he saw Ulquiorra again.

XXX

Ichigo had barely lifted a pencil at school the next morning and was so nervous about the impending performance that several of his friends had commented about his "skittishness." Shit, he really WAS afraid.

As soon as he got home he threw his backpack on the floor of his bedroom and plopped down on the bed, annoyed with himself. It wasn't like this was his first performance, but it was a performance that would decide if he had a future with Espada.

And did he have a future? Even if he stayed with Espada, what about Grimmjow?

"Dammit," Ichigo huffed, pulling out his cell phone and staring at it as if he were studying a specimen in a laboratory. He scrolled through the numbers, pausing on Grimmjow.

"Fuck it," Ichigo decided, clicking it and holding it up to his ear.

It rang several times, Ichigo fighting the lump in his throat when the line finally cleared.

"Yo, it's me. Leave a message if it's important. If it's not, then fuck off," came Grimmjow's crude messaging system.

Ichigo couldn't help but smirk, but the smirk disappeared when the line beeped, a sign that Ichigo could begin recording.

"Um," Ichigo began, mentally slapping himself, "Hey, uh, it's me. Just, um…wanted to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blown up at you like that. Anyways, I'll see you in a few hours, so…see ya."

Ichigo hung up, cussing up a storm. He was so STUPID. That was the most pussy, ridiculous message he had ever left anybody.

Gah, he was annoyed. Ichigo picked up his acoustic and began strumming, trying to release some of his tension. He couldn't go perform tonight feeling this much anxiety. He couldn't screw tonight up no matter what.

XXX

Grimmjow snarled, flinging his cell across the suite room. Fuck! He had missed Ichigo's call! He had just finished taking a shower and was toweling off when he had noticed his phone's backlight, the light that only turned on when he had a text or message waiting for him. He sighed, taking a deep breath before walking over and retrieving the poor abused communicator and pressing the button, holding it up to his ear.

Shit, how could Ichigo be so fucking CUTE even over the fucking phone? It wasn't fair. It was just plain DIRTY.

But then again, wasn't Grimmjow the one who had felt like an ass for getting the berry angry? And the berry was calling HIM back to apologize? Shit, why hadn't he just done that in the first place?

Oh yeah, pride.

But damn pride if it hurt Ichigo. Grimmjow groaned, running his hands through his thick blue hair, completely annoyed he had missed the call. Grimmjow had already forgiven him, but Grimmjow was terrible with words. He didn't have a filtering system like most people; it's what had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

Maybe there was another way to tell the berry…

Grimmjow dialed Halibel, his voice hurried, "I want to add something to the list."

"NOW?" Halibel said, sounding surprised, "We have to be there in an hour, Grimm."

"Then consider it an encore performance," Grimmjow kept his voice from begging. Barely, "Listen, I know you don't give two fucks about me and Ichigo, but I gotta do this. I think it'll make things better."

Halibel chuckled, "You're going to serenade him on stage? Oh Grimm, that's just too romantic."

"Go to hell," Grimmjow growled, pulling papers out of one of his various notebooks he carried with him constantly, "I wanted to tell you so you'd have some kind of head's up. It's a surprise for Ichi."

"What song?" Halibel asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"Something I've been working on," Grimmjow found the pages, smiling to himself, "since I've met him."

"Aw, shit," Halibel sighed dreamily before continuing, "you know I can't stand it when you're fucking cute like that. Alright, Grimm, but you had better promise me that this tension bullshit during practice disappears."

"Swear on my heart and hope to die," Grimmjow quoted, grinning, "now I gotta go. I'm not done with it yet."

"You must be confident this will work if you're not even finished. This will be interesting."

"Yah, guess so. See ya," Grimmjow said before unceremoniously cutting off the connection. After all, he only had an hour to finish this. He grabbed a pen and set to work.

Author's Note:

Haha, I should have called this chapter Telephone. xD

I don't know why phone conversations are fun to write, but they are xD

And okay, yes, it is extremely far-fetched that Ichigo and Grimmjow are that into each other after only a couple of days, but I couldn't wait any longer to use the song I want to use and I thought it was PERFECT for GrimmIchi :D

So I had to speed up the forgiveness process, but don't worry, I have more drama planned! And what will happen at Zaraki's? Renji and Ichigo facedown! And will Grimm's performance be a hit? Will Ichigo pass the test to become a member of Espada? Tune in next time! xD (I've always wanted to say that).

Anyways kiddies, please REVIEW because you love me and want me to be happy ;P