Summary- "A flowers true perfume can only be found when it is crushed; and what a pretty flower we have found this time, Gin." ~ AU! Highschool. In a town where perverted or bloodthirsty predators loom around every corner, and the streets are filled with gang warfare, Shiro has one weakness- his brother Ichigo. YAOI, ShiroIchi- Incest, UKE! Ichigo.

Disclaimer- I do not own bleach.

Warnings- Lime & Lemon. Violence. Character death. Coarse language. Disturbing and mature themes. – Possible rape, torture scenes and drug usage in future chapters. Read at your own discretion.

Beta'd by gabstergirl ! Thank you for helping me out. :)

A/N- Turns out I'm failing my English class. -_- Apparently I should focus on the quality of my writing, rather that quantity. Since I only started this as an incentive to practice writing, I should probably do that. Please help me out here, because I don't have anyone else I can ask for feedback. If it weren't for your reviews I would never get the motivation to write ANYTHING.

I'm not sure whether to be angry or sad at the results. I'm halfway between setting fire to the school in rage and committing seppuku in despair~ But not literally.

Shiro hated the cold. It crept up on him too soon every year and proceeded to freeze all his energy along with his blood. So when he awoke the morning after his wild escapade with his beautiful brother to find only blistering cold air waiting to greet him, he was understandably bitter.

An alarm clock was screaming its batteries away as if it was the apocalypse; his ears were ringing like gongs and he felt as if he'd gained 100 pounds overnight. Nevertheless he dragged his heavy, lethargic body out from beneath the covers and immediately shivered at the chill that caressed his spine. Goosebumps jumped up all over his body as he ran to the bathroom, sprinting down the hallway as fast as the albino could. He jumped into the shower, sighing contently and slumping his shoulders as heat thawed his bones.

Winter was here, and if the trip to the bathroom was any indication this winter was shaping up to be an especially cold one. Snow had frosted the window, and was falling in light sheets to cover everything beyond the house.

He could hear Ichigo down in the kitchen, but was reluctant to step out of the shower. Was Ichigo angry at him? Was that why he didn't wake Shiro up before he left his side? Or was he simply being nice and letting him sleep longer? Or perhaps he was making a special breakfast? The latter seemed more likely, and he pictured Ichigo down in the kitchen, humming to himself and wearing an apron.

Only an apron.

From there his thoughts descended into the gutter, and left him a giggling mess before he remembered it was snowing today, thus Ichigo wouldn't be waiting in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron to have the lights fucked out of him over the dining table.

He dressed quickly in the warmest clothes in his wardrobe; Jeans, boots, gloves, scarves and fluffy feather coats- the whole Eskimo deal, before he was bounding down the stairs like a bundle of energy, excited to lay eyes on his orangette.

Once he reached the bottom, a dark chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Nervousness overcame him and he paced across the threshold as the full implications of last night hit him. They'd had sex last night; the best sex he'd ever had. So this was a morning after scenario. Was something expected of him now that he'd fucked his baby brother? Should they just pretend nothing had ever happened, and continue as normal, or should they act like lovers?

He didn't know how lovers acted, and had never participated in a morning after encounter; his fucks either left before he rose, or he did. But he would be seeing Ichigo every day, and the decision he made now might change their relationship forever.

Did he want to be more than a brother to Ichigo? Hell yes. He wanted so much more than that.

With his mind made up it was easy to round the corner and stalk up behind the orangette, slipping his hands around his twins' waist while snuggling into Ichigo's neck.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, running his hands over Ichigo's slim body.

"Sore…" His twin answered, scowling as he shrugged the hands off and turned back to the sink.

"Naw, do you want me to kiss it better?" Shiro snickered, renewing his efforts to slip cold hands down Ichigo's pants. Was it just him, or did Ichigo look and feel extra delectable the morning after? He was even wearing an apron, the cutest scowl Shiro had ever seen, and his sleeves were rolled up as soapsuds covered his hands.

"Shiro, please stop, I really am sore." Ichigo pleaded, pushing his hands away and squaring his shoulders stubbornly.

"Loosen up Berry, It won't hurt a bit, I'll leave you feeling really nice…" His hands returned to molesting the orangette, turning him around and leaning him over the sink.

"That's what you said last night, but you lied." Ichigo's scowl deepened and his eyes burned with headstrong anger.

"But you liked it." He protested, squeezing Ichigo's ass and earning a wince from his twin.

"That's beside the point. You said it wouldn't hurt and it did. You said you'd stop if I changed my mind but you didn't. You promised to be gentle and you weren't." Ichigo was scowling so fiercely, it must have hurt him; he crossed his arms over his chest and stormed past a stunned Shiro to grab his bag and his coat. That was the first time Shiro noticed the huge limp he walked with, and the bruises and cuts on his hips and neck.

"I'm bleeding and bruised and my ass hurts like hell, so were not doing it again." He grumbled, but added a small "at least until I heal," before storming out of the door and starting the trek to school on his own.

Shiro stood, stunned for a good five minutes before making a mental note not to molest the berry in the morning, grabbing some toast and running out the door after him.

Stark droned on and on all English, and Shiro was practically falling asleep in his seat before a messenger came directly from the principal.

"Shiro Kurosaki is required to follow me." The boy stated, shifting uncomfortably at the door as he waited for Shiro to collect his things.

Stark gave his nod of consent and clasped a hand over the teens shoulder before he left

"See you later, Shiro and good luck." He whispered before shoving him out the door, he vaguely caught Ichigo's concerned gaze before he was following the messenger down the halls.

Shiro was confused. What would the principal want to see him for? It didn't help that he could think of multiple things. Ditching school, fighting, low grades; but nothing that required immediate attention. He wasn't even wearing the proper school uniform- perhaps that was why he was here?

The principal had never bothered himself with his students before, and Shiro had never even met the man, let alone know his name. It would look terrible when he got there and didn't even know his own principals name.

The messenger boy dropped him outside the office, leaving him to contemplate his situation before the large, intimidating doors. He looked around for a nameplate, but there was nothing to indicate who would be waiting on the other side. Should he knock or just go in?

Polished wooden benches lined the hallway, and an icy breeze wafted through a window somewhere. Shiro took a moment to steady himself; why was he freaking out anyway? It's not like he'd never been lectured before, he never gave a fuck what authorities told him to do, and this was no different. He reached out and flung the door open before slipping in and closing it behind him. Immediately, warm air and the radiating heat of a fireplace accosted him. His shoulders slumped in satisfaction as he sighed in bliss, feeling like he was suddenly floating through a sauna.

"Shiro Kurosaki, come in, take a seat. Please make yourself comfortable." Came the deep, smooth voice from behind the high backed chair beyond the desk. The man had his seat turned around so it was facing the window, but Shiro could tell from his voice that he was young, most likely in his twenties with an attractively smooth voice and polite demeanour. If he was going to be stuck in this delightfully warm office listening to a voice as sexy as that then he didn't mind one bit. This was much better than listening to Stark.

"The first snow of the season, lovely isn't it?" The man mused.

Chucking his coat off, Shiro slumped down into the seat, smirking cockily at his good fortune, before the principal swung around in his chair, and a wave of warning washed over him.

The man was young, with gentle but menacing brown eyes, his brunette hair swept back apart from a single strand that hung between his eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet, face to face, Shiro-kun, I've been hearing a lot about you lately." The man gracefully lifted a cup of tea to his smirking lips, and sipped while his fierce brown eyes never left gold.

Shiro gulped. There was nothing scary about brown eyes- Ichigo had brown eyes, yet there was definitely something scary about this man's. His features were plain; boring even, yet he was so handsome. The kind of handsome you would see on billboards or in magazines, but forgot about the next day.

"Nothing good I'd imagine." Shiro shrugged off his ominous feeling and attempted an arrogant grin. "Is there something you wanted, Principal-san?"

The man chuckled, replacing his tea on the desk and leaning over it to study the teen, bracing his chin in his hands thoughtfully.

"Call me Kyoka-sama, Kyoka Suigetsu, and it is only natural for a leader to be concerned about his charges, no?" He smiled. "I am the principal of this school, after all, and you are one of my students." He then gestured for Shiro to drink the tea that had appeared before him. "Take a sip; it will warm your bones on such a chilly day." The man leaned back in his chair, chuckling to himself before adding, "I promise it's not poisoned" In a deeply humorous tone.

Shiro chuckled awkwardly, for the sake of politeness, at the man's terrible joke before sipping his tea. The brunette didn't lie; the tea did serve to warm his bones, and he felt rather relaxed after putting it down; like he was floating on a cloud. The principal's menacing aura no longer seemed to affect him, and he even found himself warming up to the man.

"So, pleasantries out of the way, why don't you tell me about yourself, Shiro-kun." The brunette smiled so warmly, and talked so sweetly, that Shiro found it hard to bring his previous wariness back to the surface. Where had the fear gone? It was as if the tea had simply washed it away.

"Uh… I'm seventeen? " He tried to think of something to say, but everything seemed rather inappropriate.

"I hear you and your brother are close?" Kyoka smiled reassuringly, taking another sip of his tea. Shiro involuntarily stiffened up, averting his eyes to the floor.

"Uh, not really." He choked out. How could he tell this man that he was bedding his brother? That he loved him more than a brother ought to? Not to mention the fact that Ichigo was still mad at him, and had outright ignored him all morning. He was getting the silent treatment for being too rough. It was kind of cute, and brought about a silent chuckle, but the principal didn't miss the warmness in his eyes.

"So it's true that you're both rather close then. Perhaps more than average siblings?" Kyoka mused, sipping his tea calmly and reclining in his seat. He didn't sound insulted, or disapproving, simply calm and accepting.

Shiro chocked out a dreaded "How did you know!-?" in response. Was this what the meeting was about? Were they going to get kicked out of school, or lectured about incestuous relations? Or worse yet, would the principal call their father!-? Suddenly Shiro's world came crashing down around him. Ichigo was going to be kicked out of school, simply because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

"I'd imagine going through such a difficult loss together would bring two people closer, ne?" Kyoka mumbled, turning warm, accepting brown eyes his way. It took a moment to register he was talking about the loss of their mother, not incestuous relationships. All was right in the world, once again. Dirty little secrets would stay that way, and Shiro would accept the principal's pity and counselling before getting the hell out of this snug little office and on with his life.

"Ah… yeah." He said awkwardly, still recovering from the false shock of being discovered so soon into his relationship with Ichigo.

"I also hear that you've been going through quite an ordeal recently." The principal stated, leaning further over his desk.

This man's eyes seemed to know everything, and Shiro wasn't stupid enough to miss the intent as the brunette grabbed his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, but placing the pressure directly on his wound. It had been weeks since he'd been shot, but the wound was deep, and it still hurt like a bitch to have it squeezed so firmly; Shiro winced.

The principal chuckled as he reclined in his seat and sipped tea again. Shiro followed suit and took huge gulps of the soothing tea until he was floating on cloud nine, giddy with bliss and relaxed into his seat.

"Why don't you tell me how that happened?" Kyoka suggested, shooting him another sickeningly warm smile. This man seemed so kind and accepting, waiting patiently for Shiro to reply. What harm could it do to spill the beans? Stark had said they would need allies to face a mob boss like Aizen Sosuke, so why not start with the principal of the school?

He finished his tea, and suddenly, thinking about his problem with Aizen, he felt like an overstuffed stocking. He needed to tell someone, talk about it, because if he didn't he was going to explode. Maybe even kill someone. Aizen was driving him insane with all these threats and attacks. Being stalked was not easy.

So he spilled his guts to the kind principal. The whole story just came tumbling out like he'd been waiting his entire life to tell it, mixing attempts at phrasing his feelings in between the events, and even including his night with Ichigo and Stark. It was like a waterfall, once he started he just couldn't stop, and it felt so good to get it off his chest that he wasn't sure if he wanted too.

When he was finished, the brunette sat thoughtfully on the other side of the desk, eyeing him appreciatively, before he stood up and walked around to face the teen.

Kyoka pulled him out of his seat and embraced him in a firm hug.

Shiro sighed and leaned into the man's chest, inhaling his musky scent and gripping the silk shirt he wore, while the brunette ran fingers through his silky, white locks.

Kyoka Suigetsu was nearly a head taller than him, with firm muscles beneath his thin shirt, and he smelt like freshly cut wood, cypress to be exact. It was so soothing that Shiro barely registered the words he muttered, in that smooth, silky voice, before everything went black.

"You've been such a good boy, Shiro-kun, so beautiful too, I'm sure we'll be able to work something out with this 'Aizen' as you called him."

Aizen's smirk grew wider as the teen finally collapsed in his arms.

"Oh dear, it appears you wore yourself out, Shiro-kun." He chimed to the empty room, lifting the teens face to his and running his fingers down the smooth, porcelain skin. He placed the teen down in the chair next to the hearth, taking another moment to admire the teens beautiful, unconscious complexion. It had taken longer than calculated for the effects of the drugged tea to kick in, yet the results had been surprisingly promising. It was a new concoction of his; a simple drug to induce a state of euphoria and encourage loose lips before the victim passes out; simple yet effective. Shiro's lips had loosened quite nicely too. For example, Aizen was sure Stark would never give up, even under the effects of the worst substances Aizen could muster, that he had been intimate with the Kurosaki twins, for good reason too.

The Kurosaki child was even more beautiful in person than he was in the pictures, and even more so than he had been as a child. An albino was a rare occurrence among human's, so rare they were almost like mythical creatures. Yet Aizen had managed to find one; a beautiful one at that, with golden eyes and long silky hair. What a fitting name 'Shiro' was for such a creature, not very creative, but fitting nonetheless.

White was a beautiful colour, in Aizen's opinion; White as the snow that fell outside, bright and willing to be crafted into anything he deemed fit. A young mind just waiting to be shaped into his perfect toy, an empty canvas ready to be painted with blood and corruption, a clean slate for him to start on. At least that was what he was supposed to be, yet Aizen found himself enraged with his subordinate's incompetence. The first three underlings had been sent to deliver his kind regards and invitation, not mortally wound the boy and instil fear. The plan had been to entice the lad with promises and kindness, to begin work under him. Aizen knew it would take more than a simple invitation to catch the albino's interest, but he was persistent, and would undoubtedly get his prize. From there he would shape the boy, under the guise of a fatherly figure, into the perfect soldier and sexual partner all in one. Shiro had so much potential as a fighter, and with proper training could amount to be one of his best. The charm required to manipulate such a young boy into his bed would be difficult, but Aizen had no doubts he could do it. The lad had shown an immediate attraction to him upon entering the room, who wouldn't? But Aizen hadn't counted on him already being intimate with his brother, of all people. The albino was his flower to taint! His innocence belonged to Aizen Sosuke, it was his to crush and destroy, and after he had destroyed that last shred of childish purity, the boy would bloom anew.

After the first attempt had been such a failure, Aizen had retreated to give the albino more time to think over his offer, yet his second run in with Nnoitra was rather unfortunate. The fifth espada would have to be punished for his recklessness and incompetence. Allowing an old grudge to get in the way of Aizen's desires. If the first encounter hadn't painted him as a villain, then the second encounter with Nnoitra most certainly did, and Gin and Tousen's tormenting was the icing on the cake.

And what miffed him most of all, was that none of his subordinates had given him accurate reports. Aizen had no idea his plans had been going so askew. Yet it could also be attributed to his own miss-communication; the subordinates in question had absolutely no idea what his plans where, and had they known, might not have thwarted them so thoroughly. Nevertheless, punishment was definitely in order.

Yet good could still come from this failure; the plan to break the boy in over the course of years would be discarded, but Aizen would not give up on owning and breaking him with his own two hands. The albino would warm his bed, very soon, and know that he belonged to Aizen Sosuke, body and soul.

As Shiro reluctantly came back to the world of the living, warmth and heat radiated around him. He blinked groggily and snuggled deeper into the seat, curling his toes and smiling to himself. He was roused again by firm knocking on the door. When it didn't stop his smile turned into a scowl, and he opened his eyes to find he was still in the principal's office. Alone.

Someone was banging on the door, so hesitantly he got to his feet to open it. Stark swung himself at the albino once again, wrapping him in his arms and mumbling to himself.

Shiro's scowl deepened. "What do you want?" He grumbled and shrugged the man's hands away.

"So cold, can't I be a little worried when you once again vanish from classes all day?" Stark replied.

"All day? I haven't been gone that long." Shiro grumbled, rubbing his arms against the cool air outside.

"You never returned after you were called away. Its 3:45 now and I only just found the time to look for you, tell me what happened."

Shiro sighed and rubbed the back of his head, retreating back to the fireplace with Stark on his heels.

"Well I was called here, and this nice man was waiting for me, drinking tea and stuff, we talked, then I don't know what happened, I must have fallen asleep." Shiro tugged his coat over his shoulders and begun putting on his gloves.

"Drinking tea you say, what kind of tea?" Rubbing his goatee between his thumb and forefinger, Stark inspected the empty cups on the desk, sniffing and tasting them thoroughly.

"Russian caravan." He stated. "Aizen used to make us drink it during every meeting, he loves the stuff."

"What?" Shiro froze, halfway through one glove.

"Who was it that you talked too?" Stark turned to face him, hands in his pockets and muscles tense.

"Um…He was young; brown hair and eyes. A smooth way of talking and really… warm." Shiro tried to remember, but the face of the man wasn't coming back to him. He knew Kyoka had been handsome, with ordinary but forgettable features yet it seemed a bit suspicious, even to him, that he'd forget the man so soon after meeting him.

"Did you tell him anything? Anything about Ichigo?" Stark voice hardened like steel, cutting into his calmness.

"I might have said a thing or two, why?" Shiro could feel the dread creeping up his spine, suspicion and fear gnawing at his insides.

"He was called away a little after you were, he never came back either." Stark turned on his heel. "The man you met was Sosuke Aizen himself." Then he stormed down the halls.

Shiro was too shocked to move, even after several seconds. That kind man had been Aizen the whole time, and he'd told him everything. Bile rose up in his throat, he felt sick to his stomach, dirty, vile, worthless, stupid. The whole thing had been another one of that man's mind games; the attacks, the teasing, the taunts, and now this?

Aizen had played him like a pack of cards, and worse yet, he'd known what to expect, but still fell for it. For a second there he had thought he could trust someone, but his trust had been betrayed. He'd betrayed Stark and Ichigo; the only people that had helped him, or even cared.

Ichigo was missing and it was his fault; Stark had implied Aizen had taken him, but what would that man want with Ichigo? What would he do to him?

He felt the bile in his throat, the tears tugging his eyes, the trembling in his hands. Just thinking about all the possibilities caused him to throw up. He ran to the fireplace and wrenched the entire contents of his stomach into the flames. When the painful dry heaving finally quietened, he observed the flickering flames for several minutes, resting his eyes on the steel prodder at the forefront of the hearth. Heated steel with a snake tongued tip, sharpened to perfection. With fire and tears gleaming in his eyes he warmed the metal in the deepest recesses of flames before bringing the two-tongued rod to his skin, dragging the hot metal across his wrists. Blood gurgled and boiled as it hit the rod, congesting in his open wounds and spreading burning scars of lava down his arm.

He was so worthless.

He screamed, groaning in pain and ecstasy as the scars boiled and bubbled, hot lava crawling up his veins and burning his cells like a cancer.

He was such an idiot.

He dragged the snake-tongued rod down his chest, cutting a burning scar along the way before stopping at his abdomen.

He didn't deserve do be Ichigo's brother.

The steel was hard and hot, with a single thrust he could impale himself, commit seppuku, like ancient samurai. He chuckled at the thought; if they could do it why couldn't he? He'd failed everyone, and he'd failed himself, there was no way to atone for this sin, apart from dying in the most painful way possible, in fact he was looking forward to it.

It would be fun. A huge grin split his face at the thought. Maybe he'd even make the national headlines. 'Seventeen year old boy commits seppuku in principal's office after school.' Or hopefully they'd think of something more romantic or creative.

Just as he was steeling himself to do the deed, his hand and the rod were grasped away from him, crashing into the hearth to rest beyond the flames. Entranced, he reached out to breach the angry flames but his hand was snatched away. His assaulter dragged him violently to his feet, smashing his limp body into the wall before punching him straight in the jaw. Blood gurgled up his throat and dripped to the floor as he was flattened against the wall under the force behind the fist. He felt like road kill under the weight of a twenty tonne road train.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!-?" Blue hair and eyes filled his vision as an enraged Grimmjow held him by the scruff of his shirt, feet dangling beneath him. Ulquiorra was livid as he put the fire out, his lips curling in a troubled frown, as his emerald eyes burned as brightly as the flames. Green flames licked his irises as he turned to glare at the albino.

"H-He got him." Shiro chocked out. "Ichigo's gone." He hung his head in shame.

"So what are you gonna do? Just die!-?" Grimmjow punched him again, knocking his train of thought to the wind. "What the hell's Ichigo gonna do if you die!-? Who's gonna save him?" Then he swung Shiro around and chucked him to his feet.

"The Shiro I know would never let a guy like Aizen walk all over him. I remember an arrogant, headstrong, cocky little troublemaker who was just a little different. I remember a guy who spits on the shoes of the president, or walks on the moon just cuz someone said he couldn't. The guy I know wouldn't take such an easy way out, he'd fight, right down to the last breath in his body and he'd never give up."

Since when had Grimmjow been so deep? Shiro suddenly felt like laughing; So he did, But blood and bile came up with the laughter and he was soon coughing violently again.

"I never knew I was such an inspirational figure for you, Grimmy." He chuckled, stumbling to his feet. "Why are you here anyway? I haven't seen either of you for weeks."

"Stark-sensei said you would be in need of us. I must admit he was right. An idiot like you cannot be left alone for such long periods of time." Ulquiorra spat at him, obviously angry at what he'd walked into.

"I missed you too, Ulqui-chan." Shiro wheezed, grinning again. "Perhaps your right. I haven't been myself lately. Thanks Grimm, for knocking some sense into me. Literally."

"So what's the plan?" Grimmjow grinned back, crossing his arms.

"Why would I need a plan? I'm going to get Ichigo back; it's as simple as that." Shiro stumbled to the door.

"Count us in. We haven't been honing our skills these past weeks for nothing." Grimmjow smirked, moving to aid the albino down the halls.

"Do what you want." Shiro grumbled.

Stark was sitting in his desk, drinking coffee and making phone calls like an overworked secretary when the three boys ambled into the room. They each stood, expectantly in front of his desk like trained soldiers, waiting for his attention.

Shiro's patience was running low though, and he couldn't stand politely for more than several seconds, especially when Stark didn't bother to spare them as much as a glance.

Angrily, he slammed the phone down and snarled at the brunette, who was unnervingly calm.

"Where can I find Aizen!?" He pulled the big guns out straight off the bat.

"If you don't mind, I was trying to find out." Stark levelled him with a calm stare.

When neither of the boys turned to leave, Stark sighed and pulled out a notepad, jotting down some notes before handing it to the irate teen.

"Meet me there at seven and I'll have you an address." He sighed, before herding the teens from his office and shutting the door.

Dejected, worried, restless and angry, the three boys wandered the streets, hoping in vain to encounter some trouble to distract their torturous minds and restless limbs from the impending battles. But it was as if all the gang activity had ceased, not a single rough looking punk or noise-making civilian prowled the streets.

After a while they had agreed to split, go their own ways and visit their respectable families and friends before seven pm rolled around.

Shiro couldn't keep his limbs in check; he couldn't stop his fists from shaking, or his teeth from clenching. His chest ached, like a part of him had been torn away, and his gut stung like he'd swallowed a razor sharp steel ball. Pangs of strong emotions would overcome him periodically, during which either a face splitting, insane grin would cut across his lips, or a teeth-baring snarl ripping through his features.

He was incredibly enraged, so much so that he felt as if he could destroy the entire town if he stopped suppressing it. With his own two hands he could tear into thousands of civilians, drag their hearts from their bodies, one after the other until his wrath had been satiated. But not a single person dared show their face on the streets he walked. It was frustrating; he wanted to kill something.

The gall of that man, to trick him, and steal Ichigo right out from under his nose! Ichigo belonged to him; his life was more precious than anything else in the entire world, and if so much as a hair on his head were out of place, there would be hell to pay.

Shiro swore he would kill the man that dared mess with his mind; Aizen Sosuke would take his last breath beneath Shiro's wrath. The last thing he would see would be Shiro's hateful eyes, and his cold, steel grasp around that pretty neck.

Aizen Sosuke was going to die, even if Shiro went down to save Ichigo, he would drag Aizen to the grave with him, no matter what.

Echoing footsteps broke him from his hateful reverie, and the albino whirled around to find Stark, hand in his pockets and frown on his face, strutting across the cemented clearing he found himself in.

Shiro was sitting on a railing that overlooked the majority of the town, aware that this was the place Stark had said they would meet, but I wasn't anywhere near seven yet.

Perhaps the man had discovered the address sooner than expected, and knew Shiro would be waiting here? It seemed likely.

The man strolled up next to him casually and looked out over the town; his eyes were dark and troubled as he lit a cigarette with shaking hands. Their breaths came out like steam in the cold, crisp air, and light snow began to fall around them.

"You know, I never really thanked you properly for all this." Shiro said suddenly, still looking over the town and into the setting sun across from them. "You're the only one who came to our aid when we really needed it, and you've done a lot to help." Surprisingly, he didn't sound awkward or indifferent while he spurted such heartfelt things. "Our dad works across the sea somewhere, and it's been nice having you around, even if you are a pervert."

Turning suddenly, he caught Stark off guard with a sincere smile, causing the man to drop his cigarette, before turning back to the sunset. There was peaceful silence for a while longer, before Stark approached his back to stand directly behind him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, his voice as cold as the snow that fell at their feet, and then he wrapped his other arms around Shiro's face and pressed a wet cloth to his mouth.

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, his hands flailing up to grasp Stark's firm forearms as he fell backwards, off the railing and into Starks chest.

He tried kicking out, but his muscles suddenly felt like gloop, as his eyes grew droopy.

The last thing he registered was red-hot rage, deep in his soul, before darkness crept over his vision for the second time that day.

A/N- So Is that fail-worthy to you? Sorry it took so long, and that it's so short, but I hope my effort makes some kind of difference. :/ I feel like I'm struggling in vain here; fighting a loosing battle; doomed for failure. *Faints dramatically* Oh the woes and hardships of highschool!

Anyway how do you like the dark direction this is going? Is there some kind of limit on how dark I can go? Like a line I shouldn't cross or something, because I never notice lines like those until I'm ten feet under.

Please give some feedback; I'm begging you!

Thanks for your time.