Author's Note: Okay, new chapter! Ha hah, victory is mine! First off, I'd like to say a huge thank you to Folkenstar for sending me a copy of the writing I'd lost. I don't know how long it would have taken for my inspiration to have returned without that boost. Also, all of this post is new, but for the second scene, which is Grimmjow's dream chapter that I'd lost. Enjoy. :)
- Chapter 19 -
"What do you want?" Ichigo stood warily, muscles tensed and shoulders squared, facing his white-haired look alike, who usually kept his distance. The weight of his zanpakuto noticeably missing. "Where's Zangetsu?"
The white-haired demon shrugged one shoulder casually, his lips curling up on the same side to reveal sharp teeth, and he began to trail towards the shinigami lazily. "Busy. Anyway, he didn't call you here, I did."
Ichigo glanced around, his eyes narrowing as he took in bright azure skies, not a cloud in sight, and he thought he heard birds chirping away happily. "What the...-"
"Isn't it wonderful?" was asked sharply, snapping back Ichigo's attention. The pale man sneered at him when he said nothing, orange bows lifting his only response. He raised his arms out wide and waved at the cheerful scenery surrounding them. "What the fuck is this, Kurosaki? You think you can just change everything? You think you can just be happy, and Zangetsu and I will just pick fucking flowers and sing songs together all day?"
"Uh..." Ichigo furrowed his brows, opening his mouth only to close it back, but then he scowled and opened it again. "What the hell are you talking about? If I want to be happy, I can be happy, you get no say over that." He scoffed. "You should be thanking me, this place was depressing as shit before."
The yellow-eyed man snarled, and he brought himself nose-to-nose with the defiant shinigami. "You're in denial, thinking that pretty blue-haired Espada gives a flying fuck about you, he's just playing you. And when he decides to try and kill us, because he will, I'm the one who's going to have to save us, because you're not even training anymore!" Then he shoved Ichigo in the chest hard, causing the shinigami to stumble precariously a few steps back over glass windows, and he let out a string of laughter, the sound unhinged as yellow irises shrunk, black pupils bleeding out, taking over almost completely. "Maybe I'll just do it now, fuck him and then get rid of him, like you should've done the moment you met him. I'll even let you watch if you promise to behave."
Ichigo clenched teeth together with a low growl as he righted himself, his jaw muscles flexing as he glowered at his pale counterpart at the thought of the ex-Espada going up against him. He reached back over his shoulder when he felt an absent weight suddenly return. "No. No, you're not going to touch him."
Grimmjow stalked forward slowly, turning in a small circle, fog surrounded him, the tall blue-haired man not able to see more than a few inches in front of him. "What the fuck?"
"What have I said about using that language in this house, Grimmjow?"
Grimmjow jerked around at the unexpected voice, and he found himself suddenly standing in a kitchen that felt oddly familiar. It was small and mostly white or off white with just enough room to fit standard appliances and a few feet of counter space. An old wooden table with two matching chairs sat, against a short wall with an open doorway, and there was a single uncovered lightbulb hanging from the ceiling in the center of it all, on, the pitch-dark sky outside not offering it any help.
A tall slender woman, with long, wavy hair the same shade as his pulled up in a loose bun, stood leaned back in front of a single sink, wearing a white night dress, a mug, with what appeared to be steaming tea in it, cupped in her hands.
She arched one icy blue brow and then blew over the top of her cup, sending Grimmjow an expectant look.
Grimmjow took in a slow breath. "Sorry, Mom," he said, his voice not sounding quite as low as he'd expected. He frowned, looking down at himself to find his outfit to be a pair of blue basketball sneakers, black gym shorts and a plain white undershirt. "What the hell?"
"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez " was said with exasperation, and cobalt eyes shot up again to find the woman who was his mother walking towards him, "I swear, you could at least pretend that you're afraid of me."
Grimmjow started to apologize again when a hand lifted to his face, and the woman looked like she was attempting a scowl as she gently brushed the pad of her thumb across the highest point of the bridge of his left cheekbone just stopping shy of his eye, and he felt a twinge in his chest even as he relaxed under the soothing touch. "I still can't believe you did this," was said quietly, "I'd think they were pretty... if I didn't know why you got them," and then the hand fell away.
The woman took a seat at the small table, a tired sounding sigh escaping her lips as she looked down at the cup resting in front of her, suddenly appearing considerably older than her thirty-four years. "Have you eaten? I can warm you up some lasagna before I leave for work. I made it for you as a surprise," she said, and then her voice grew noticeably strained as she continued, "but you didn't come home... I was worried..."
Grimmjow took the seat across from his mother quickly. "Mom, I've told you I'm fine, you don't have to worry about me, nothing bad is gonna happen," he said, and then reached across, setting his hand gently over his mother's slender wrist—and a mental image of it covered in blood just hours before flashed in his mind unbidden.
He flexed his jaw, forcing it away but carefully removed his hand, clenching his fingers as he pulled back, a panic trying to settle in, but he ignored it as his mother studied him with a look of concern. "I'm doing this for us, for you," he said, hoping she wouldn't notice the sudden roughness in his words, "I'm gonna take care of you, so you don't have to work all the time anymore, so you can have everything you want."
"Grimm," was said, expressive blue eyes meeting his, the sentiment behind them making him wish he could take the entire last six months back, erase it all, but he couldn't. It was too late. "I don't want anything, I just want you to be happy and safe. Nothing else matters to me."
Grimmjow swallowed hard as his gaze turned down to the beat up table he'd eaten at ever since he could remember. A faint 'G' was carved in the woodwork just below the inside of his right wrist, looking like it belonged there after so long, its edges soft and the same darkened shade as the other scratches littering it. He could still remember his mother catching him in the act and being disappointed in him more than actually angry. He seemed to be getting that response from her a lot lately.
He clenched eyes shut, his forehead dropping to rest on the palms of his hands as elbows rested on the table that felt infuriatingly too small as of late, a sick feeling rushed up the back of his throat. If only she knew—
"You look tired, I'll heat up some food and then you should get some rest, Birthday Boy," was said softly, a hand smoothing over his messed hair gently a few times before lips pressed to it, making the newly initiated gang member wish he was a kid again when anything bothering him could be made better by his mother's presence, his favorite meal and some sleep.
He looked up to see his mother pulling out a small covered dish from the refrigerator, the light in it not working. He watched on silently as she set to work to make his dinner at four in the morning, humming softly under her breath, her ten hour shift at the nearby convenience store starting in just an hour. "Thanks Mom... I love you."
She stopped at that, looking over at him - and she smiled, the expression reaching her tired eyes and crinkling the skin around it. "I love you too Grimmjow, I don't know what I'd do without you."
The just turned seventeen-year-old spoke up immediately. "You don't have to worry about that."
Blue eyes shot open, and Grimmjow was sitting up, his wide gaze immediately sweeping the dark space around him, his lungs heaving for air. He was in bed, in the apartment he'd leased. He looked down, finding himself dressed in just black boxers, nothing out of the ordinary.. Kurosaki asleep by his side.
He let out a jagged breath and ran a hand down over his eyes, covering them and the teal tattoos bordering them, his entire body tensed, refusing to relax, as emotion after emotion rushed through his chest, filling it and rising, like it wanted to choke him, and he leaned over, dropping his swimming head between his knees when he felt an odd sensation in his throat.
It had all felt so real, like it was actually all happening all over again. His life.
He remembered it now.
"Fuck." Grimmjow shoved himself off the bed, ignoring the sleeping shinigami's mumbles as he rolled onto his stomach, taking the spot where he had just been lying. The blue-haired man stalked around the bed and over to the long dresser that held his clothes, and he began to pull open all the drawers, emptying them one-by-one.
Ichigo woke slowly with half of his face smashed into a pillow and to what sounded oddly like angry packing, the sound of rustling clothes and curses keeping him from falling back asleep after an exhausting night. His entire body felt like it had been slammed into a brick wall.
He groaned and rolled onto his back and stared up at a white ceiling for a few seconds, blinking a few times to clear his vision, and then he turned his throbbing head with a tired exhale to find Grimmjow packing.
"Going somewhere?" was asked casually enough.
Grimmjow paused for a second, his hands holding a pile of clothes. Blue eyes narrowed, and the ex-Espada stuffed the two shirts and two pairs of pants into an open black leather bag on top of his dresser. "Yep," he said, not turning around.
"Where're you going?"
Grimmjow's jaw clenched, and the tall man shoved a few more clothing pieces into the piece of luggage before jerking the zipper around, closing it loudly. "Away from here," he muttered, grabbing up the bag, and turned around to find Ichigo in only his boxers, standing in his way, arms crossed. "Move, Kurosaki," he said lowly, the organ in his chest —his heart, fuck— thumping angrily at the sight of the orange-haired shinigami.
Ichigo didn't move, his tired expression slowly shifting as he studied him closely. "...Are you coming back?"
Grimmjow laughed. "Not if I can help it," he said, shoving around the shinigami, and a hand grabbed his arm before he could make it out the door, the grip surprisingly strong. He stopped in the doorway, refusing to turn around.
"Wait..."
Grimmjow said nothing, his chest rising and dropping too fast as he took in short breaths, the hand wrapped around his bicep making him want to scream or laugh, or both. He needed to get away from the shinigami before he did something he'd regret.
"I'll go with you," was said finally.
Grimmjow turned at that, he took in the barely clad shinigami, and he lifted both icy blue brows as he said, "No you won't." The hand tightened.
"You need me."
Grimmjow raised his chin slowly, eyelids drooping slightly as he looked down over his nose at the worried orange-head. "You think so?"
Ichigo nodded, and he glanced around the room as if he were searching for something before saying, "Yeah, you don't know how to drive."
"I can figure it out, it looked easy enough."
"What if an Espada finds you? Or a Soul Reaper?" was asked quickly.
"What about it? What about your school? What about your fucking part-time job, Substitute Soul Reaper and all that shit?" Grimmjow bit out heatedly. "What about your family and friends - you don't even know me, Ichigo - what're you thinking?"
Ichigo's hand loosened on the ex-Espada's arm, Grimmjow's expression and tone much different than he was used to. "Did, did something happen to you?"
Grimmjow took a step closer, his shadow falling completely over the shinigami, blue eyes intense as they met unsure but stubborn copper ones up close. "Listen Kurosaki, you don't actually like me. I've been lying to you this whole time."
Ichigo's hand dropped from Grimmjow's arm, orange brows pinching. "Wha-"
"I'm not like you, and I never will be," the tall blue-haired man said, "I'm a killer. Always have been, always will be. I never wanted to start over, I only came here to take your soul. That's it."