Lots of chatting and sharing of feelings today. Dun dun duunnn.

Chapter 14 everyone! :D

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Grimmjow's POV

The drive back home is numb and silent. I close the front door behind us and I can barely feel my legs as they walk one foot in front of the other.

Ichigo is walking ahead of me in a trance, and I follow closely (but not too closely, I don't want to touch him yet) behind him. As he walks his eyes look cold and listless. "Fucckkkk."

His voice doesn't sound like him. He sounds like a robot.

I follow him like a puppy. No, not a puppy…a grown German Shepherd bred and trained solely to protect.

Ichigo's eyes are dead and dull, but he doesn't look at me, he only looks at what's in front of him. He walks through the halls and enters the living room. He flops onto the sofa, and I cautiously join him, leaving a full cushion between us.

This is unprecedented territory for both of us. He looks like a bomb ready to detonate, and I need to figure out how to dismantle him before he explodes. I don't know what Ichigo needs from me, but…I don't think he knows either.

But that's fucking okay, I will fucking figure this out and help him however I need to. I'm trying to read the room, read his feelings. I got this.

"Did he have a family?"

The words come from Ichigo's mouth, but they still lack emotions. He stares at the wall in front of him, yet simultaneously seems to gaze at nothing at all.

I squint and my eyebrows furrow. I don't understand the question. "What?"

Ichigo audibly swallows. "Aizen Sousuke. Did…Did he have a family to go home to?"

Strawberry...wow.

My heart aches deeply. Even knowing Aizen had hurt him so cruelly, Ichigo is still thinking about how he may have hurt someone else by his actions. If Aizen had a wife or kid waiting for him at home.

That simple question shows me how astronomically different Ichigo and I can be. I only cared if people had family so I could use them as collateral damage. But Ichigo...this beautiful, selfless soul...

I shake my head. "No, he didn't have a family. You're good babe."

Another small white lie I let emerge from my lips. In reality, I don't know if he has a family. But right now, in the precarious mental state Ichigo is in right now, my lie feels like the only correct answer.

He's looking down at his hands. "I...appreciate your friend helping us."

I'm so glad he's talking, but he's not talking about what I want us to talk about. But I know this is a lot to take in. He's taking in the individual pieces before committing his brain to the big picture. He's probably in shock, and his coping mechanism is to dissect the small parts first.

I nod. "Yeah, Starrk and I have been colleagues for many years. I officially joined Pantera when I was 15, and Starrk was always there to help me. I trust him with my life."

He nods listlessly. "Are you closer to him than you were with your dad?"

I blink, and I stare at Ichigo's profile. I…was not expecting that kind of question from the kid, especially in his state. Maybe, he's more lucid than I realize? Devastated but not in shock? Or maybe his brain is so used to the trauma that it's well-adapted to thinking in this volatile environment.

And the answer to the question itself…I'm not sure. My father and I were primarily just colleagues, my dad didn't feel like a dad.

I finally answer honestly, "I'm not sure. In some ways probably." I add as an afterthought, "Probably a similar friendship as you and that short girl from the bar. Rukia."

It had taken me a second to remember her name. I recall a few weeks ago at Rukongai Rukia had led Ichigo to the employees' backroom, out of sight. I know their friendship is platonic, I know she's dating that redhead Renji. But…seeing Rukia and Ichigo holding hands when they finally came back to the bar…

I was so jealous I wanted to murder someone.

Ichigo nods, and for the first time since we got home I see an expression on his face that doesn't make me want to cry fat tears. He has the slightest smile on his features as he agrees, "Yeah, Rukia has been my rock for a long time. After what happened to me…I hadn't been planning to tell anyone. I was too embarrassed, t-too ashamed. Was gonna take it to my fucking grave." He swallows again, as though trying to swallow his emotions. "But I had a panic attack in front of her, not long after getting back to the real world. I ended up telling her everything."

Wow, everything? I think about how excruciating it was for me to learn his torture lasted 47,550 minutes. I wonder how inclusive "everything" is. I highly doubt Rukia knows as much as I learned from that fucking USB drive.

47,550…it's literally unthinkable. I want to resurrect Nnoitra and Yammy and Aizen just so I can kill them all over again.

I reorient back to the present, and I have to force the anger out of my voice. My anger is directed at them, not Ichigo. "Opening up to people you trust can be very freeing Ichi."

The way that I said it, I know the implication is there. I want to talk about what happened tonight, I want to help him through this. Discovering Aizen was more than just a creepy stalker, that he was actually one of his rapists..and then getting so angry Ichigo accidentally killed him...that's too damn much to take in all by himself.

More than anything though, I want to give him the opportunity to get out of his own head. Whatever is going on up there right now, I guarantee it's not healthy or safe.

One last nudge, I say sternly but softly, "Internalizing your shit isn't healthy, Ichi. I'm here."

I don't say it demanding. I want him to have the opportunity to say no if he wants to.

Ichigo's hands are resting in his lap, and there is still dried blood crusted along his knuckles and wrists. We will need to get him in the shower soon. It doesn't seem like he even notices the blood.

He's staring at those slim, bloody hands as though they hold the secrets to the afterlife. "I...I can't believe I didn't recognize his voice." He shakes his head. "He was one of the most disgusting. He loved the humiliation tactic. Loved putting me in costumes. I was blindfolded and couldn't see them or myself, but...the way they howled at me, the things they said...I could always figure it out."

He snorts a smirk, and his eyes glisten. "It was just a sick game. Aizen loved those, even more than he loved fucking me." The smirk wavers, he looks down at his hands. "...I almost wish I hadn't killed him, just so I can kill him now."

There is a moment of pause, and I can tell he's not done. I feel nervous as I emotionally steel myself for what he's going to say.

He stares at the wall in front of him, where a large, ornate painting of a forest is hung. He doesn't seem to notice it. "No matter how much they broke me down, no matter how bad they hurt me…for a long time I still had fight left in me. When they offered me food, I bad mouthed them. When they gave me bathroom privileges, I tried to escape. But…" Ichigo shakes his head, his eyes now the saddest, most pained expression I've ever seen. "Aizen was the one who slowly took away my will. He made me realize even if I did escape, there would be nothing worth escaping to. I'd still hear their voices in my head; I'd still have nightmares reliving everything. It…It hadn't even seemed worth escaping anymore. If they hadn't gotten bored of me and released me, I probably would've stayed there until I died…"

As he concludes, I sit there in deep, deep shock. I stare at his ashamed expression, his downturned head. There is a ringing in my ears that's getting louder to the point I'll go deaf, and the beating in my chest is so fast it's about to burst and make a mess on the floor.

My cheeks are wet, and my lungs feel so constricted it's hard to breathe. I have to actively focus on breathing just so I don't pass out.

That fucking…fucking bastard! Humanity is an absolute sin, this existence is a fucking joke. Ichigo's past is a true testament to there being no god. No god or deity would allow this kind of carnage.

One thing is very clear, Aizen was let off too easy. I'm glad Ichigo killed him. But we should have made him suffer more. That horrific, heinous sack of flesh didn't deserve to be called human.

I'm choked up and have to actively work to get the words out. "Ichi...I-I'm so sorry." Fuck. My hands are shaking, and I'm trying to still them so Ichigo doesn't notice how affected I am. I don't want him to know this is tearing me apart too.

This is a burden that has weighed on Ichigo for so long. The fact he had given up. The fact he had allowed Aizen to slowly break his spirit. Oh Ichigo, how can you not see? How can you not see nobody would have survived as long as you did? How can you not see how strong you are?

What I want more than anything is to pull his body against mine and never fucking let go. I want to reach out and touch him, as comfort for both him and me.

But...it's not appropriate right now. Not with how Ichigo is currently curling into his body and trying to disappear.

I settle for words. Words I'm not good at and have had no practice in.

But, this feels like I'm at the baseball championship game, I'm up to fucking bat, and I better hit a goddamn fucking home run.

I lick my too dry lips. "Ichigo…" I begin. He does not meet my gaze, but he does blink as he notices his full name being used. "Where are you at in life right now? What's your life like?"

I'm going to fucking make him realize. I'm going to make him realize just how uniquely amazing he is.

He offers a look of confusion, and I continue. "You are a bartender. You're a hard worker and work way more hours a week than most anybody. You're responsible, and you have a good head on your shoulders. You have friends. You have a home." I attempt a joke. "A dingy ass home, but a home nonetheless."

That earns a small chuckle. It's short-lived and sounds a little weird, but it's as genuine as I'm expecting given the situation. I count it as a win.

Though, talking about his living arrangements makes me think of how I used to joke how his bed was too small to fuck. Looking back, now that I know so much more about him…I bet he despised that…

I grit my teeth and push through, leaving the self-deprecation for another date. "Look at the great life you've built yourself, in spite of what you've been through. Think of all the ordinary, boring bitches who have been through so much less, yet accomplished nothing." I can tell it's sinking into Ichigo's brain. His back is getting straighter, and he's visibly attentive. "You are truly an anomaly Ichi. You are by far the strongest, most resilient person I know."

My heart aches as I continue. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever forgive myself knowing you were suffering under my roof, and I did nothing to save you." And the fact I hadn't even known...it's shameful. Yammy said the lieutenants didn't know, but part of me wonders if my father knew about it.

And...and if he ever participated in these wretched festivities.

Ichigo finally, finally looks at me, and it instantly renews my energy and fervor. I feel exhilarated as I proclaim, "I want to be everything you need, Ichi. I care for you...deeply. On a level I have never, ever felt before."

Again, I want so badly to reach out and touch him. But, for now, just gazing into his big doe eyes is enough.

"I hate every fucker who flirts with you or tries to touch you. But, at the same damn time I can't even blame them. Everything about you is absolutely beautiful. I want to kiss you again; I've been looking forward to that more than I want to admit. But more than that, I just fuckin' want you to be safe and feel safe. I want you to feel safe with me."

A lone tear trails down Ichigo's cheek. Once listless and emotionless, he now looks so full of emotion he's about to burst.

His voice is hoarse. "Grimm..." He takes a deep breath, another. He's trying to contain himself. "Why...Why do you care for me so deeply? Why do you make me feel so amazing?"

My heart beats loud in my ears as I yearn for him to keep talking. Ichigo shakes his head in awe. "It makes no sense. It's honestly infuriating. Every time I convince myself I'm better off on my own, you show me how much better and happier I am with you in it."

My heart swells to thrice its size, and I feel like I'm about to explode. Ichigo...these are the words I have longed to hear for so long.

I swallow hard, swallowing down the sob that is threatening to escape. These emotions are so potent, so encompassing. No one has ever, ever, made me feel this deeply before, and I'm drowning in it.

Ichigo is both the tempestuous water drowning me, and the lifeline tossed into the water to save me. He suddenly scoots closer to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug.

Fuck. My true lifeline. The one person who can resurrect the humanity in me I lost so long ago. The one person who I will, now and forever, spend the rest of my life fighting to protect as long as he allows it.

I'm so glad he's able to tolerate my touch. I've been too terrified to touch him in case he has PTSD. But I just needed to give him time, let him sift through his feelings, and then he'd come to me.

Our hug may be lasting minutes, it may be lasting hours. Right here, in Ichigo's contoured muscles and warm body and sweet scent, I don't give a damn what the rest of the world does. Time has become warped and distorted as I remain intertwined in Ichigo's arms, to the point of my body becoming numb. But it's a good numb, euphoric. Maybe this is what people experience before they die of hypothermia. If so, I understand the appeal.

We hadn't moved for the longest time. But soon, eventually, I feel Ichigo's fingers lightly tap me back to reality. "Grimm. I-I need a shower soon."

Ah. He must be coming back to his own reality. He's starting to realize the blood on his knuckles.

Now that he's conscious of it that has to be uncomfortable, and I slowly uncurl my body from his. "Yeah babe, let's get you cleaned up." I already miss his body heat as I stand, and I lead him upstairs. The spiral staircase is wide, and we both walk side-by-side. His shoulder rubs against my bicep, and I fight the urge to turn and pull him into another hug. I want him, need him. But I can't smother him. We have to complete our needs before our wants.

And getting rid of that fucker Aizen's blood that is tainting Ichigo's skin…is an absolute need.

Ichigo seems cognizant and okay, and I feel comfortable briefly parting from him. I speak, still with a gentle voice my body isn't used to, "I'll grab some towels and spare clothes."

Ichigo nods in response. He walks to the bathroom while I walk toward an oversized closet in search of supplies.

As I gather the supplies, I contemplate the events of the day. The last 24 hours have been …overwhelming. I discovered the USB drive that held all of Ichigo's horrors, I killed Nnoitra and Yammy, Ichigo killed Aizen. And of course, Ichigo knows about the USB, we still haven't fully discussed that…

Fuck. One step at a time Grimmjow, one step at a time.

I obtain my supplies for Ichigo, not even realizing I grabbed an orange towel and blue pajama shirt and pants. But it doesn't seem like a big deal; I just liked the way the two colors looked together, so I grabbed them aimlessly.

I head back to the bathroom. I'm walking in a daze, and without much thought I open the door to see Ichigo shirtless and with his fingers on his jeans zipper.

He blinks at me in surprise, and I mentally flashback to the one time I caught Ichigo stepping out of the shower. How his hair had clung to his forehead and chiseled jaws. How the water droplets had dribbled down his tight abs and pert nipples. How the angles and contours of his body had looked absolutely delectable.

"F-Fuck, s-sorry Ichi!" I frantically stammer out. I feel like a cartoon character, moving so fast I leave a trail of dust behind me. I don't give Ichigo a chance to respond as I throw the linens on the bathroom counter then fly out the door, slamming it behind me.

I run into the adjacent room, clutching my chest as though to prevent any vital organs from spilling out. Jesus fuck. If I had walked in 10 seconds later I would've risked seeing something, something...sexual.

I put more distance between me and that fated bathroom. My brain is scattered all over the floor now. I feel like a cat who has lost his whiskers, completely confused and spatially challenged as I roam the hallway. I try to ignore the fact my dick is still hard enough to cut glass, and that I need a goddamn cold shower.

In my extravagant hallway I pass a large mirror hanging on the wall. It's frame is a dark mahogany. It had been an expensive gift from an artisan shop years ago, and it was passed on from my great-grandparents.

I admire the mirror. I also oddly stop to admire my own features in it. The blue hair, blue eyes, sculpted jaw and hidden muscles.

I slowly envision a hypothetical scenario where a slightly shorter, orange-haired man stands beside me. With his gorgeous brown eyes and lean but muscular physique. I think of how he'd stand just to the left of me, and me with an arm wrapped wide around his shoulders. We'd be laughing. It'd be a silly-ass picture of us just being happy and free. He'd be wearing a short-sleeve shirt and it would reveal a few of his scars, but he'd be too carefree to notice, or even goddamn care.

It's a beautiful sight, something I now eternally long for. My chest hurts just thinking about it.

But, gradually I begin to envision other, more malicious men standing behind us. In the mirror I see Yammy. Nnoitra. Aizen. Peter Gollifield. I see the men of Ichigo's past. Their eyes are red, and their hands have morphed into deadly claws.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and I force the images in the mirror to shatter. I escape the hallway as though it has come to life and is trying to eat me alive. Am I being cowardice toward an inanimate object? Sure. But no one's here to see me who gives a fuck.

I quickly keep walking through the maze that is my home, and I enter the kitchen in search of decaf coffee. I absently eye the stove, just curious what time it is. 2:24am. Yep, definitely decaf.

As I prepare my pot I ponder more thoughts. I recognize, I don't mind that Ichigo comes with baggage. In fact, I am glad I met him when I did. I may not have respected him when we met, but goddamn I certainly respect and care for him and love him now.

I'm pouring water, but at that thought I suddenly stop in my tracks. I laugh. I speak aloud, partly to myself, and partly to my beautiful, long deceased sister, "Hehe...Nel, if only you heard the thoughts I just had. You'd be amazed." And proud, I think to myself.

Wow. I fucking love this kid, huh? Who woulda thought.

A text goes off in my pocket. I tell myself I'm annoyed because of the late hour, and not because I was confessing to Nel that I'm some lovesick homo.

I assume it's Starrk, and I put the pot down and don't hesitate to read it.

Done. How's the kid?

Fuck. At 2:30am and I am absolutely getting him that baby blue Lamborghini. He has earned it and then some. May put a big fat bow on it for shits and giggles.

I text back, Thanks man, sorry I left you there. He's doing good all things considered.

And that's impressive of Starrk to even care. Like me he never fakes sincerity, because he doesn't care enough to. He has very few interests in life, and very few people he deems worthy of his time or energy.

Good. I think he's done when Starrk texts again: What's your next plan with Gollifield? I know he's on our hit list too.

Fuck…our "hit list." I almost want to laugh at the bitter irony. For Starrk and I, it's so easy to jump from one prey to the next. Starrk has helped me every step of the way, he truly fucking has. But, it also occurs to me Starrk is still yakuza. He believes in methods as vengeful as my own.

The reality is, I'm tired of doing it my way. I'm tired of tying people up and killing them. More than anything, I'm tired of lying to Ichigo, or dragging him along because he got caught in the middle.

I am doing this for him goddamn it. I want what's best for him. I don't want to lie and scheme. I want to be upfront and honest. It shouldn't be me and Starrk figuring this out.

It should be me and Ichigo.

I'm annoyed it took me this long to have that realization. Little by little I am getting my humanity back, and the answer is clear. I text back: Nah, leave him be. I'll think of something. Thanks again for all your help. I rarely text anyone gratitude, but Starrk is a long-term colleague. A friend. He deserves it.

He responds, Love you too, and I roll my eyes and pocket my phone.

Regardless, I feel stern conviction that I'm going to handle this last opponent differently. Peter Gollifield is an obstacle I will not underestimate, but will also not unnecessarily overpower. Peter Gollifield is not yakuza. On the contrary, he was desperate enough to seek out the yakuza, and became indebted to them. Simple, boring, obsessed-with-my-Ichigo Peter Gollifield.

I won't take his life. But I will make damn sure he knows Ichigo is not someone to be messed with. And I understand Gollifield has memory retention issues due to a brain injury.

That's fine. But make no mistake, one way or the other, Ichigo is going to be goddamn safe. Ichigo and I will figure out the right move so that he feels morally in control, and it's fucking happening sooner rather than later. I think of those intricate paintings Gollifield painted (Starrk sent me a few photos of them). I think of how obsessed this man is with Ichigo and how much he has sexualized him.

I finally finish brewing my coffee and chug its contents before heading back upstairs. I didn't want to make Ichigo feel like I was smothering him. But goddamn I can't help but admit to myself I'm already ready to see him again.

I absently talk to myself again, lightly chuckling, "Damn Nel, you would've believe how whipped I am. I love him literally more than anyone. And I don't even know if he loves me back."

God...God I hope so.

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These last few chapters I really got into Grimmjow's POV haha. I just enjoy him, I can't help it. His emotions are so much more conflicting and fascinating.

We're nearing the end at lassttt. Thank you to everyone who has made it 14 chapters. That's quite a bit and I appreciate the support ^_^ 2 more chapters I think?

Until next time! :)