Before I start this chapter, can you all assure me that you will keep the incident in the Connecticut schoolroom in your heart and prayers, I know they are in mine.

This is a Christmas special chapter, I have 3-5 other chapters I still need to finish and refine(and those are just the Immediate personal ones I want to write. I also have your requests too ^_^')

This was a nice one to write, I came up with the idea in July and kind of turned it into this.

Warnings: Alcohol, a little bit of an intoxicated Grimmjow, possibly offensive hand gestures, cursing, mentions of molestation, etc. Also, mentions of knives/weapons, though none are used to physically harm anybody. Probably.

I sigh, knocking back yet another glass of wine. Still no buzz. For once, my ridiculous threshold for alcohol works against me. The snow falls silently, gathering at the windows to watch my futile attempts at drinking away my consciousness.

Every detail of my living room stands out in agonizing focus. I want the lines to blur, the room to spin with my mind as I laughed and howled to the moon. Another glass goes down. Another empty bottle. My thoughts: perfectly clear.

Goddamn it.

Can't a guy at least get drunk on Christmas Eve? Especially when he has nobody to get drunk with. Giving up on any formalities, I drink directly from the bottle.

Once it joins its empty friends, I look around at my surroundings. Nope. Nothing. Its snowing harder now, and I'm tempted to go out and down myself in the beautifully formal white color.

It would be easier than carrying around this weight called my heart. A weight I wished to be ripped out of my chest.

I used to be unburdened by this feeling. I walked the earth like I owed every inch of it, rebelling against all forces that tried to stop me. Without the weight of my heart, I was free to fly wherever I wanted. Nothing tied me down. I could have been the wind, for how I moved!

And then I had been caught by the gravity.

Of course, the entire world had to know the government had caught the wind.

'Slice Jaegerjaques', that was my name. I spent 8 of my years in prison, where I was forced to grow a heart and to chain it down with guilt. I wasted my life in that cell, shouting empty threats and taking fights I couldn't win in my emaciated state.

That's where I earned my scars. And oh, did I wear them with pride! The pain I had gone through to wear such a mangled hide is unimaginable.

I put away bottle number 12 and threw this one against the wall, enjoying the sound of shattering glass. The lines were still crystal clear. I gave them the one finger salute.

Fuck you too lines.

Outside, I can hear people laughing. Probably rolling their asses around in the snow and having 'dirt, piss, and a little bit of snow' ball fights. Sentimentality has given up on all hope of ever reaching out to me.

Ding dong

The sound makes me flinch and grab the knife next to me on the end table. Knife, right? Well, where I live, a knife is actually considered below average for end table weaponry.

Being cautious and gripping the knife in my right hand, I slowly open the door with my left and immediately brace myself for whatever hell has thrown at me.

"MPPH! MPPH!"

An orange and silver worm wriggles around on my porch, trying to get down my steps. In the distance, I can hear his friends laughing their chilled asses off. A twinge of sympathy rises up inside of me. I know what it's like to be the butt of a joke, and this kid does not have it easy, showing up on my porch while I am slightly intoxicated and armed.

He can't be more than 140 pounds, because I can heft him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He's wriggling around, but there's no way I'm letting my catch go. Mentally, I plan out how I'm going to play this.

I slam him down on the ground and shove my knife between the outline of his lips, cutting what I now realize is duct tape and stop when I feel the tip poking the back of his mouth. Being very experienced with blades, I know I haven't hurt him but if my knife wasn't there, he could be screaming for help.

"You say or do anything other than what I tell you, I swear to God that I'll string you up naked in my tree out back in 35 degree weather and film you crying for help."

It helps that I shift the knife a little after my threat, so he thinks I'm even more of a knife-wielding maniac. When I remove it, I almost instantly regret it. I'm showered in the next worst thing to acid: Incomprehensible explanations for why he was on my vestibule.

I make out the words 'bet' and 'drunk' and 'bad idea'. Typical stupid college kids who are tipsy on eggnog and one of them is subjected to their games.

"S-So can you let me go?"

God, he's actually kind of cute. Like a kitten. Maybe a sexy kitten in bed. The thought arouses me a little actually. If I played this perfectly, I wasn't going to bed alone this Christmas.

I stabbed the knife down, close to cutting off some of that unique orange hair. Working quickly and somewhat carelessly, I peeled the duct tape away from around his mouth. Sitting back once I had removed all the tape, I admired my work. I had left all the tape on him from the neck down, and removed all of the tape from his hair, neck, and mouth. Now, he kind of looked like a fly trapped by a spider.

"Are you going to take the rest off?"

"Why should I?"

"Moral obligation as a human being?"

"I'd rather make a deal. You give me something, I give you something."

He blushed a little. There was no doubt in my mind that there were some horribly dirty things going through his brain.

"What are you looking for? I don't have money, they took my wallet. And my shoes."

I picked up the knife and poked his silver chest with it, almost lazily dangling it over his solar plexus.

"I suppose I could sell you to my neighbor. He favors young innocent kids like you."

"What makes you think I haven't gotten laid yet?"

He's looking at me with this fierce defiance in his eyes, like he would fight me to free himself. I'm surprised at how much of a contrast there is to when he first got here. Looking closer, I see a slight blush on his cheeks. This kid may not sound like it, but he's dead drunk.

Since I'm a little tipsy as well, this won't be going down nicely for him if he pisses me off.

Slowly tracing the blade in little circles on his metallic-colored abdomen, I yawned and propped my head up with my elbow on his chest.

"Hey! What am I, a counter?!"

"What you are doesn't really make much of a difference to me. I'm using you as an elbow rest and that's not going to change because of what you are."

"Can you at least put down the knife?"

"I'm pretty experienced with these things, if getting cut's what you're worried about."

"So should I be assured or even more afraid that you know your blades?"

"Probably both. You see, we're both drunk. And the only way to solve that-" I quickly sliced free his arms and midsection, leaving his torso taped but enabling him to sit up.

"Is by getting even more drunk."

….

The kid is on bottle number 7 and is still conscious, even with everything he drank before. Of course, I'm on bottle 18 or so and by now, the room is tilting slightly.

"H-Hey Misterrrr. Got any more of thisssssSs?"

I can't hold back my smile. We don't even know each other's names, and he's got his arm around my shoulder like he's known me forever. The duct tape is still all over him, but he doesn't seem to care. His orange hair is even more rumpled than before.

"Hold on there Orange. Ya've got quite a bit o' alcohol running through yer veins already. I don't want ta ruin ya with this stuff."

What the hell am I saying? Do I actually care about this kid? Why does it matter to me if I get him sloshed as fuck?

"Psssst, Mister. I've got a secret for yo~u."

He grabs my shirt and pulls his taped up legs onto my lap. Normally, I would have grabbed someone who did this and fucked them into the nearest surface at this level of drunkenness. But something compels me to push him away.

"C'mon, yer goin' ta bed."

I sling him over my shoulder and settle him down into my own bed. As soon as he's no longer upright, I've got him in such a deep sleep you would have thought that I drugged his drink. There's nowhere else for me to sleep, so I climb in next to him.

Working slowly, I peel away the tape from his body. I don't want to use this kid for my amusement anymore. I feel an emotion rise up within me: empathy. It curls around my guilt and resonances with it. I feel something I thought I would never get the chance to feel.

The chance of redemption.

I realize that I crave it. I want to redeem myself so goddamn badly. I want to lift these chains off my heart, to let it see the light of a new life. And that's going to start with this poor sauced teenager.

I wad up the tape into a ball and toss it into the corner of the room. Underneath all the tape, he's actually pretty toned. Not bad, I must admit.

"Like what you see?"

"Pretending to be asleep now? I actually thought you had conked out."

"Nah, it takes the amount you drank to get me down. But I'm feeling this in the morning."

"I've gotta say, yer not that bad for a kid."

"And you're not that bad for a sexy drunk pedophile."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Take it however you want to."

"I'm taking it as an acceptance for a second date."

"If this is what you think is a date, then you're crazy. But I'm fine with doing this again."

"Whatever floats your boat Orange."

"My boat would float beautifully if you told me your name and called me Ichigo instead of Orange."

"Call me Grimmjow, Fifteen."

Ichigo smiled.

"Merry Christmas to you too you goddamn bastard."

Yup. Ending it there. Or else it'll get weird, considering I've had almost no sleep this week. Wow, this is pretty chancey. But I like the thought of it. Just two guys, meeting by chance, and having a drink.

It happens.

I hope all of you guys have a wonderful holiday, and I'll try to update faster than this. I have no excuse other than reading Black Adventures.

If you leave a review, it's greatly appreciated! If you leave a flame, well, I'd rather you didn't.