CHAPTER 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

Oh, the responses to the last chapter were epic! HA! More, yes?

Onwards...

XOXOXO

Ichigo fell backwards on the porch, his back hitting the top step as he gasped for air. What the hell had just happened? Things had seemed to slow down right before speeding back up, but by then it had been too late. He gripped his shoulder, staring down at the blood spreading over his arm. What the fuck?

The apartment door had been cracked, but burst open at that moment, Shiro and Shinji both spilling from the hall like water from a tipped over glass. Ichigo stared at them, his body frozen and mind in shock. He couldn't move. His shoulder stung like a thousand wasps had gone at it, and his heart pounded forcefully. Shinji was the first one to break the suspended animation as he rushed forward and stooped beside him, his hand shooting to his front pocket.

"What the fuck happened?" he growled, honey brown eyes narrowed.

Ichigo wanted to snap 'What the fuck does it look like, genius?', but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Instead he gasped again, his body going numb. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His body trembled as he glanced away from Shinji and down to the blue-haired man that had shot him. Grimmjow was huddled on the ground, his body quaking, his gun on the grass in front of him. Ichigo still couldn't really believe Grimmjow had gone as far as shooting him. Hadn't Grimmjow been the one to leave him? Hadn't he disappeared without a word of goodbye? So, what the fuck was he so pissed about?

Grimmjow's body shivered, but he slowly eased to his feet, his movements sluggish and out of sorts. Ichigo flinched violently as he watched Grimmjow stoop back down and grab his gun. Was he going to try again? Ichigo involuntarily huddled closer to Shinji, his nerves electric as he was stricken with fear. He didn't want to die because some asshole had a complex. Surprisingly though, Grimmjow didn't even seem to see him anymore because he tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and ambled away, his gait unstable, like he was drunk off his ass. When he disappeared around the bushes, Ichigo still didn't relax. He was too afraid and his mind was still shrouded in shock.

Shinji's voice in his ear brought him back to reality for a while. "Ichigo! What happened?"

Ichigo finally found his voice as he glared at his brother's blond boyfriend. "Your fucking friend shot me! What the fuck does it look like? Ah!" he gasped, his hand tightening around the wound on his shoulder.

Shinji growled under his breath, withdrawing his cell from his pocket. Ichigo frowned as he watched, trying to distract himself from the burning pain in his arm. Was Shinji really about to call the cops? Did he really want that kind of heat on his back? Ichigo was woozy, the loss of blood starting to go to his head, but he was aware enough to know how the game went. Gangsters and cops didn't mix, like oil and water.

"Yo. Need some help." Ichigo saw Shinji's mouth move, but the blond's voice had been distorted, like he was speaking under water. Ichigo squinted and tried to concentrate on what the other man was saying. "Forty-four West Front Lane. Yeah, Brook End. Hurry up!"

That didn't sound like a nine-one-one call to Ichigo. It sounded like Shinji had just called someone he knew to come to the apartment. Ichigo leaned back, searching for a flat surface to rest on, but instead his back ended up resting against a warm body. He closed his eyes, too tired to care who he was leaning on, but the voice made his eyes snap open and stare guiltily into the distance.

"I'm here, King."

Ichigo felt his eyes burning in addition to the pain in his shoulder. Why did Shiro have to be so nice to him right now? It would have been better if his twin had shunned him and laughed in his face, telling him you reap what you sow, or something like that. Not this unconditional kindness.

Shiro's arms came around him and Ichigo rested his head against his brother's shoulder. His heart had slowed down and right now he was just incredibly sleepy. He closed his eyes, but his body was jarred by Shinji shaking him roughly.

"No sleepin', dude."

Ichigo grumbled under his breath as he shivered. He was suddenly cold, even though the evening was a nice one. Damn, he couldn't believe Grimmjow had shot him. The other man's eyes had been scary as hell when he'd pointed his gun at Ichigo's chest. Dull, no longer bright blue and completely far away. Like Grimmjow had been soulless at the time. Ichigo remembered feeling like ice had slid down his back and pooled in his boxers. He'd never encountered a purely unstable person before, but there was always room for improvement as tonight had shown him.

Grimmjow was still out there, though. Did he want to finish what he'd started? It hadn't seemed like it when the man had climbed to his feet and stumbled off. Ichigo was scared, but more than that, he was confused. He didn't know what to expect from the blue-haired man now.

XOXOXO

Shiro held King against his chest, his heart thumping wildly. All he'd heard was a loud, familiar voice shouting outside before the sound of a gun going off. At first, he'd thought the worst, thinking that maybe Ginjou had finally shown his true colors. Then, he'd registered the voice and realized that it was far worse than he'd thought. Grimmjow walking up on Ginjou and King had to have been the worst case scenario.

When he and Shinji had heard the yelling, they had paused on the couch, staring at each other incredulously, and then the gun had gone off. That had sent them flying into action, falling over each other as they careened down the stairs and out onto the front porch. Shiro had been rooted to the spot when he'd seen King sitting on the steps of the porch, holding his shoulder and bleeding all over the place. His heart had stalled in his chest as he'd stared. He hadn't been able to move, shock and fear running laps around each other in his mind. Then Shinji had gone forward and everything seemed to start up again. Shiro had watched as Shinji took out his phone and called someone that Shiro hoped would come and help his brother. But then his attention had been grabbed by a shock of bright blue hair on the lawn, swaying away from the scene.

Shiro had been tempted to shout or something to get Grimmjow to stop, but what would he have done if the obviously dangerous man had come back? Yell at him? Fuck that. Shiro loved his life just as it was. No one said anything as Grimmjow walked away, rounding the bushes and disappearing into the night. Shiro was grateful that Shinji was more focused on King, but he was also afraid that Grimmjow was still going to be out there on the loose and able to come back anytime he wanted to.

Shaking his head, he banished all thoughts of the blue-haired man and turned his eyes back to his brother. King had his head lolling against Shiro's shoulder, his breathing slowing, getting even and deep as if he were falling asleep. Shiro shook him gently, not wanting to jar his wounded shoulder, but it did nothing to wake him.

"Shin, I think he fell asleep."

"That ain't good. Ya gotta get him up til Szayel can get here an' look at him."

Shiro tried again, this time moving King's head. King groaned, his eyes fluttering, but his lips and face were frightfully pale. "Wake up, King," Shiro mumbled.

"Tired," King said quietly, his voice barely audible.

"I know, but ya gotta get up. Ya can' sleep right now."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know," Shiro agreed.

King's shoulder was still bleeding and the hand that had been guarding his wound had slid to his side. Shiro carefully moved his brother's head and tried to remove his t-shirt, but King was too heavy against his chest and didn't appear to want to move.

"Shin, I need-"

"Yeah, I got it," Shinji responded automatically as he rose to his feet.

He peeled his white tee off and handed it to Shiro, his eyes glittering with rage. The look shocked Shiro and made him wonder if the anger was directed at him. "What's wrong?"

Shinji blew out a breath and ran a hand through his blond bang. "I'm pissed," he grunted.

"Yeah, I kinda got that part already. Why're ya pissed though?"

"I don' unnerstan' Grimm. I mean, why the fuck would he shoot Ichigo? I know he was prob'ly mad as hell when he saw Ginjou, but that doesn' mean he hadda shoot Ichigo. I don' get it."

"Me either. He's the one that left, right?"

"Yeah." Shinji paused, running his hand through his hair again, agitation screaming in the motion. "I wish Szayel would hurry up. I wanna go find Grimm."

Shiro's eyes went wide. "Y-ya sure ya wanna do somethin' like that with him in the state he's in?"

Shinji gave Shiro an amused glance. "I ain' scared a'him. He wouldn' shoot me, anyway."

Shiro wasn't too sure. Grimmjow hadn't looked like he'd been in his right frame of mind when Shiro and Shinji had appeared on the porch. In fact, if Shiro had to describe how Grimmjow had looked, it would be slightly deranged and a lot unhinged. Scary shit. Shiro sighed and wrapped King's wound with Shinji's t-shirt before letting his twin lean against his own shoulder again. King was mumbling under his breath and from what Shiro could hear, he was saying Grimmjow's name.

"Grimmjow...why? I...didn't hurt you. Why'd you leave?"

Shiro grimaced and met Shinji's curious stare. What was he supposed to say? Shiro was sure that they were all thinking the same thing, wondering why the hell Grimmjow had leaped out of the window, so to speak, and shot King. There was something they were all missing about this sordid situation and it unnerved Shiro. It felt like Grimmjow didn't think he'd been wrong, since he'd been mad enough to shoot King in the first place and if the blue-haired man felt that way, then what the fuck was going on for real?

Suddenly, a dark-blue car squealed to a stop in front of the house, the engine shutting off and both the passenger and driver's doors opening. Shiro remembered the men that hopped out of the vehicle from the night they had all met and gone to the Ishida Inn. For one, the dark-haired man striding towards them was named Uryuu Ishida and the other was Szayel. That pink hair was a dead give-away. Shiro would never be able to forget the two men after seeing them fucking each other on the couch of the hotel suite right in front of him and Shinji.

The two men strode up the walkway towards the house, their faces serious and amplifying the terrible situation. Shiro felt his heart rate pick up as they reached the porch and stopped in front of him, both studying King's face.

"What happened?" Ishida asked softly.

Shinji sighed. "Grimmjow." Szayel's eyes went wide, but surprisingly, Ishida didn't even react, other than shaking his head and moving closer to inspect King's arm. "Is this the only wound he has?"

Shiro nodded, answering for Shinji, who had sidled to the edge of the porch, his feet poised on the top stair as he stared at his car parked across the street. "Jus' go," Shiro whispered. "I'll take care of things here."

Shinji turned and looked at him, his face torn. He seemed like he didn't want to leave, but he also seemed like he wanted to go find his friend. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, stupid. Go. Jus'...jus' be careful. If he shoots you too, I'll kill 'im myself."

Shinji chuckled and passed a hand through Shiro's hair before hopping off the porch and jogging to his car. The engine roared to life and Shinji peeled away from the curb like the pavement was on fire. Shiro watched the tail lights disappear around the corner before turning back to the two men prodding and talking to King.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Szayel asked seriously.

Shiro glanced down and realized that King had opened his eyes, but they were glazed and groggy. "Five?"

Shiro would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so serious. In all reality, Szayel was only holding up two fingers, so for King to answer five was alarming. Shiro glanced back and forth between the pink-haired man and Ishida, who had both frowned before exchanging their own glances. It was quite obvious that King wasn't doing so well, but Shiro needed some specific answers before his heart decided to jump out of his chest.

"What the hell? C'n ya help 'im? I'm sure tha's why Shin called ya over here," he snapped.

Szayel sighed and ran a hand through his pink bang. "He's going into shock, if he isn't already."

Shiro swallowed nervously as he turned his focus to his sluggish brother. No matter how angry he'd been at King, he hadn't wished this on him. Shiro never wanted anything to happen to his twin. His hand tightened around King's waist as he shifted the other man's heavy body. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew the feeling of panic rising in his chest and stomach would serve no one any good. However, it was becoming increasingly hard to bury it, let alone fight it.

Ishida stepped forward and offered a slim hand in Shiro's direction. "Let's get him upstairs."

Shiro nodded absently, grateful that finally something was being done to help his brother. Then, he realized that King had pretty much become dead weight, meaning that all three of them would more than likely have to drag the orange-haired man's heavy ass up a flight of stairs...on foot. Fucking Grimmjow.

XxxxxxX

Five very annoying minutes later saw King safely tucked in his bed, Szayel and Ishida hovering over him wearing latex gloves and needle and thread on the nightstand beside the bed. There were bottles of antiseptics and antibiotics, cotton balls, swabs and pads, gauze and bandages and it all made Shiro wonder exactly where the hell it had come from. He wasn't complaining, though. Anything to help King feel better. Speaking of King, Shiro glanced around his brother's room, his upper lip slowly curling back in disgust. If they hadn't already lay the man to rest on his bed, Shiro would have suggested they take him back into the living room to the couch. King's room was an utter pigsty. Shiro didn't see how any human being could comfortably live amongst all that filth.

Balls of paper littered the floor near the trashcan, defeating its purpose, while dust and suspicious liquids covered the surfaces of his nightstand and dresser. The air was stale with the scent of old marijuana and dirty clothes and Shiro almost gagged when he spied a half-eaten cheeseburger that had to be days – or maybe even weeks old – on the dresser near King's stereo. Foregoing his previous thoughts of letting King remain on his bed, he massaged his temples as he addressed Ishida and Szayel.

"Look, I'm sorry ta interrupt ya, but ya can't do this in here."

Szayel sighed in relief and Ishida wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Thank you. I was beginning to worry about the safety of this environment," Ishida stated dryly, his dark-blue eyes glittering with amusement.

Shiro chuckled, but prepared himself to remove his brother from the bio-hazard he called his bedroom. They hefted King by the torso and legs and trudged into the living room, where they deposited their burden onto the couch. Szayel and Ishida went back to grab their tools, while Shiro went into the kitchen. He opened the pantry door and stepped all the way to the back, where he retrieved a pale blue bucket that contained all the heavy duty cleaning supplies, like bleach, ammonia and multi-surface cleaner. He grabbed the broom, vacuum and slowly went back to King's room, thoroughly disgruntled. He stood on front of the door, staring incredulously. How could a grown-ass man have allowed his own living space to become so...shamefully hazardous?

Shiro sighed, grabbed one of Shinji's blue bandanas from the back of the couch and tied it over the lower half of his face. After that, he went to the bathroom and filled the bucket with scalding hot water. Then he pulled on a pair of blue, latex gloves and dumped about two caps of bleach into the bucket. He grabbed a sponge from the cabinet under the bathroom sink and prepared for warfare.

He passed through the living room again, avoiding the amused glances from Szayel and Ishida as he made his way back into King's room. Shiro was determined to rid it of the present filth before single-celled organisms began breeding under King's bed. Shiro set the bucket in the doorway and started gathering clothes from the floor and around the orange-haired man's closet. Once he tossed the clothing items into King's hamper, he started on the miscellaneous trash surrounding the room. Shiro shook his head in disgust. King hadn't been much of a clean freak before he'd started being reckless, but then again, he'd never been an outright slob, either. This was just ridiculous.

Debris finally cleared from the carpet, Shiro went to the bucket resting in the doorway and dropped a sponge into it. He attacked the dressers and nightstand next, scrubbing away all the gross shit that had accumulated on the surfaces, then he moved on to the windows. He dusted the curtains, cleaned the glass and wiped down the blinds. After that, Shiro swept the carpet and vacuumed, the dust rising from the floor absolutely appalling. The carpet once more resembling a carpet, Shiro moved on to replacing the linen on King's bed. There were bloodstains from his twin's shoulder as well as numerous holes and other stains from only God knows what. Shiro wrinkled his nose and shook a clean comforter on top of the fresh sheets he'd placed on the soft mattress. The air in the room already smelled considerably better as he went around the room with a bottle of Febreeze. He needed to be sure. He was positive King would thank him for cleaning the room once he was conscious. No one should live in those conditions, no matter how depressed or angry they were.

Shiro gathered the cleaning supplies and started to leave when he realized upon spying a balled up piece of paper that he'd totally neglected the space underneath King's bed. Grumbling, he went over to the side of the bed and stooped to his knees, reaching for the balled up paper. What seemed like years worth of dust greeted Shiro and made his eyes water, his nose beginning to run. Annoyance made him suck his teeth as he grabbed the paper. He tossed it into the trash can and sighed. He'd had enough of cleaning and really...who would be looking underneath King's bed anyway? Certainly not the man himself considering he hadn't even given a shit about the whole room. Shiro started to stand when another slip of paper caught his attention.

Damn, King was a messy bastard. Where the hell had all that paper come from anyway?

He grabbed that paper too, but paused. This one hadn't been balled up like all the others and he was able to make out a scratchy handwriting that didn't look anything like King's. Shiro turned the paper right side up and read.

Ichigo,

I'll be back. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you. You're mine now.

Grimm

"Oh shit," Shiro muttered.

XOXOXO

Shinji pulled in front of the apartment he'd shared with Grimmjow and stared up at the building. He knew Grimmjow was there because he'd spotted the man's Acura parked haphazardly in the parking lot. It was crooked and taking up both of their spaces, forcing Shinji to park on the street. He didn't mind. He knew there had to be some serious shit going on in Grimm's head for him to up and shoot Ichigo as if he didn't even know the guy. Hadn't Grimmjow been the one to leave in the first place? So why shoot the orange-haired man?

Well, that's what Shinji was here for. He was going to get some answers, Grimmjow's attitude be damned. He hopped out of his car and stalked to the entrance of the building, his temples throbbing as he thought about and dreaded the upcoming confrontation. He knew Grimmjow would be pissed, maybe even a bit unstable, but Shinji had dealt with Grimmjow in that state before after the episode with Aaroniero. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he could handle it.

Keigo had his feet up on his desk as usual, but this time he was wide awake, and when he spotted Shinji, his feet dropped to the floor as he shot into a correct sitting position. Shinji couldn't hide his frown.

"Er, Hirako...yer friend...he, uh..."

"Is he still upstairs? Or did he leave again on foot?"

Keigo shook his head and pointed up at the ceiling, his eyes wide with apprehension. "Nah, he's still up there. Fuckin' scary," he whispered.

Shinji nodded and made his way to the elevators, his heart pounding. Grimmjow was known for his notorious control and calm demeanor, so for Keigo – of all the oblivious idiots – to notice something was wrong, Grimmjow had to have been in a right state. Shinji stabbed the call button and was grateful when the silver doors immediately opened. He wasted no time stepping inside and punching the button for their floor. He was beginning to get nervous. After changing into a fresh shirt in his car, he hadn't even had time to feel any trepidation about going after his best friend, but now, all that was changing the closer he got to Grimmjow.

The elevator opened and Shinji slowly exited, his stride hesitant and unsure. What was he going to say to Grimm? He knew what he wanted to ask, but what would he say to whatever Grimmjow said to him? What if Grimmjow had indeed shot Ichigo in cold blood, never mind whatever they had shared between them? Shinji felt a chill creep over him as he reached into his back pocket for his key. Fuck.

He stuck it into the lock and twisted, the door swinging open almost ominously. Shinji entered the entirely too quiet apartment and looked around for any signs of his best friend. The first sign of the blue-haired man's presence was the overwhelmingly thick scent of Purple hanging in the air. The second sign was the closed bedroom door and the third sign was the loud music pouring from behind said door. Instead of the guitar Shinji had been expecting, slow R&B rumbled the walls and a female singer crooned over a mellow beat. Shinji's head listed to the side in shock. Normally, Grimmjow either played gritty rap or his father's guitar.

What was with the slow shit?

Shinji crept to his best friend's door and pressed his ear to it, listening for any other signs of life. Nothing but more music floated from the other side. He took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob, knowing he was breaking all kinds of unspoken rules between him and Grimmjow, but Shinji figured the situation was kind of urgent. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and slowly opened, thankfully not squeaking and alerting Grimmjow to Shinji's presence. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Shinji paused in the doorway at the sight that greeted him, his eyes widening.

Grimmjow lay across his bed on his back, his long legs hanging over the side and hands resting on his stomach. There was a slight sheen of sweat covering the man's naked chest and strong, muscular legs. Grimmjow only had on a pair of black, knit boxers, his hair was standing on end and his blue eyes were focused on the ceiling. He wasn't moving and there were tear streaks on his face. Shinji glanced at the nightstand beside the bed and saw several marijuana roaches smoldering away, as if Grimmjow had been chain smoking. Considering what had just occurred, Shinji wouldn't at all be surprised if that was exactly what the man had done. Now that Shinji had time to take in the other man's appearance, he realized that Grimmjow's eyes weren't exactly "focused" on the ceiling at all. They were glazed and glassy, his lips parted and chest rising and falling slowly. Shinji stepped into the room and quietly shut the door, garnering no reaction from Grimmjow whatsoever. The man didn't even twitch.

Shinji stood for a few seconds more, then cleared his throat. Again, Grimmjow didn't move. He didn't even blink. What the hell? Shinji went over to the blue-haired man and slapped his sweaty leg, glaring down at him. When Grimmjow didn't move again, Shinji sucked his teeth and started to do something more drastic.

"Know wha's funny?" Grimmjow's gravelly voice croaked over the music.

Shinji jerked like he'd been hit. "N-no," he stuttered in response, completely taken off guard. He hadn't been expecting Grimmjow to talk after behaving like a vegetable for the past few minutes.

Grimmjow's face finally moved as it twisted into a grimace. He licked his lips and spoke again. "Still can' hate 'im." Grimmjow turned to look Shinji in the eye and smirked painfully, the expression tugging at Shinji's heart. "S'fucked up, ain' it?"

Shinji was unsure where to start. He'd meant to light into Grimmjow and curse him out and ask him what the fuck he'd been thinking coming there and shooting Ichigo that way, but now...he just felt bad for the man for some reason. He'd never seen Grimmjow look this bad, not even after the thing with Aaroniero. Still, Shinji thought as he shifted his weight and ran a hand through his hair, I need some answers.

"Uh, Grimm, where the fuck were ya?" he asked, deciding that was a good place to start.

Grimmjow turned back to the ceiling, but not before Shinji spotted the small frown creasing his forehead. "I toldja I was leavin'."

Grimmjow's words were slurred, but Shinji was able to decipher the words the man had spoken and at that moment, it felt like ice water was dumped down his back. What? Grimmjow hadn't told him anything. Hell, it was the reason Shinji was so pissed with the man in the first place.

"What're ya talkin' 'bout? Ya didn' tell me anythin'."

Grimmjow's frown deepened as he turned back to Shinji. "I did. Sentcha a tex'."

The ice water froze and turned Shinji's back into a sculpture. "I didn' get it."

Grimmjow stared at him blankly for a beat, his deep blue eyes cloudy and entirely too bright. "Wha' 'bout tha note?"

It was Shinji's turn to frown. "What note?"

"Lef' a note fer Ichigo. Little shit," Grimmjow grumbled, his eyes going back to the ceiling.

Shinji felt his heart running around wildly in his chest as he tried to put everything together. If what he was hearing was correct, then there had been an immense miscommunication. Grimmjow claimed to have left a note for Ichigo and a text for Shinji. Apparently, neither of them had gotten either. Shinji's mouth went dry and his hands clammy. If that was the case, then what Grimmjow had walked in on with Ichigo and Ginjou had in fact been the other way around in his eyes. Ichigo had betrayed him.

"Aw, fuck," Shinji whispered.

What was he supposed to do now? He didn't think just telling Grimmjow that Ichigo hadn't gotten his note would suffice. Not in the blue-haired man's current condition. And for that matter, what Ichigo had done had been too much. Even if Grimmjow could understand Ichigo's reasoning, fucking with a Blood was completely taboo. How was he supposed to salvage this situation?

His cell ringing in his back pocket distracted him and made Grimmjow glance at him. "Did I kill 'im?" he asked quietly, his deep voice raspy and thick.

Shinji shuddered, but shook his head. "N-nah. Ya got his shoulder."

"Hn," Grimmjow grunted. "Good."

Shinji jerked in surprise again. He'd been expecting Grimmjow to be upset about missing his mark, not happy or relieved. The ringing persisted and made Shinji answer it with an annoyed, "Yo."

Shiro's voice on the other end immediately gave him pause. What his boyfriend said, however, made his heart rate pick up as he glanced over at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow hadn't been lying about the note.

Next time then...