Notes: Hey guys, here's a new and long update! It's getting to the good parts I swear. I want to make this a longer story so I really appreciate if you guys would join me on this ride! Please post this story around to your fellow GrimmIchi fans, I wanna keep the OTP alliiiiveeee! Enjoy muchachos~~

Review and love 33

Ichigo was nervous. He was currently standing in front of the door of Grimmjow's house. Oh god, this was a huge mistake. He could already imagine the man decking him in the face just because he was there. The man was intimidating, period. Even then, he saved Ichigo's life twice. Sucking up, he steeled himself and ringed the doorbell. And what do you know, it doesn't work. So he knocked. Three times, not too soft and not too loud. Didn't want to annoy his saviour. The door didn't have a peephole so Ichigo expected the man to rip open the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

And he was right. He was facing a tower of tattooed muscles. Ichigo had to pinch himself because he was legitimately standing in front of a GQ model. Like whaaaattttt. The man had a rippling six pack, hard pecs, corded arm muscles and it was all framed by a pair of wide set shoulders. Tattoos were littered all over his arms which mostly consisted of words, quotes and random abstract images. They weren't exactly a sleeve but they were strategically placed, some where everyone can see and some where only when he was exposed they could be seen. Just like what's he doing now. Well not his whole body, only the torso.

"Helloooo... anyone in there?" The man waved a hand in front of Ichigo's unfocused eyes. Thankfully, he snapped out of his reverie. Because it would have been so awkward if he had just stoned there. He was still embarrassed nonetheless. Ichigo looked up into his face and

"Uh… I brought food."

"Didn't I just see you like 2 days ago?"

"Yeahh but, you just, I still feel that one meal can't just cover like 2 life savings. It deserves like, what, 6 at least," Ichigo was grateful that his head was intact enough to actually speak in coherent sentences. Because the sight in front him had actually blew his freaking mind. Even he hadn't seen such good bodies and he was a guy. He hasn't been sexually active. He wasn't even physically active honestly.

"You know what, come in. I was going to order food anyway." Grimmjow headed into his house after beckoning Ichigo to enter. Ichigo was happy that the man didn't beat him up. He followed behind him closely, finally realising that there were many healed scars on the man. The entryway was dark and the hallways had dim lighting so he couldn't really see. But under the lights of the house, he could see them clearer. Some were raggedly long, like knife wounds but mostly there were bullet scars, in different degrees of healing. Most of it rather old. They were headed to the kitchen,

"You got food for yourself? I mean, since you got us food, you should just hang out here for dinner. I'm gonna get a shirt. Just set up the food in front of the TV," Ichigo nodded and began taking out the food. They were placed in those microwaveable plastic things. He grabbed some plates and placed the food on it before setting it in the microwave to reheat it. Grimmjow hadn't come out anyway.

Ichigo's eyes wandered around the kitchen. It was a new angle. He had only been in the living room and the guest room. The kitchen was unexplored but you could kind of see the whole house from where he stood. There was the toilet and the main bedroom other than the other 2 rooms, of course. Grimmjow was on the phone, he looked like he was arguing with someone. Other than that, he was already wearing a white shirt with the same grey sweatpants. Ichigo quickly turned away, he didn't want to meddle too much in the other man's business.

The food been heated up and Ichigo helped himself to the fridge for drinks. And he was pleasantly surprised to find the fridge quite averagely stocked. He was expecting, you know, just beer and bacon. He stared at the cans and quickly avoided the beer section. Grabbing two bottles of mineral water and the food, balancing it all like the pro waiter he was, he headed for the coffee table in front of the TV. It was already on and showing some action movie. Too many explosions and gun fights for his taste but he was okay with it.

The other man still hadn't come out from the room so Ichigo waited for him before eating. He was taught manners and he never once intended to forget them. He checked his phone at the meantime, it was already 7pm. He was pleased to find out that Shinji and Yoruichi had texted him. For a long time, he didn't get any messages from anyone. So when he actually did get messages which weren't ads, it pleased himself a little.

Shindigs: There was a guest from yesterday's art showcase who wants you to contact him for a modelling gig, you up for it?

Kurosaki_Ichigo: I only served there once. How would you know if it was just a scam?

Shindigs: It's a pal of mine apparently. His name is Uryuu Ishida. He wants you to model for some shoots of his designs.

The name actually sounded familiar to Ichigo.

Kurosaki_Ichigo: You said I looked like shit.

Shindigs: Hey, you want this thing or not? Its easy money. You stand there, look good, pose a little and you get paid.

Kurosaki_Ichigo: Fine but if I get kidnapped, it's your fault.

Shindigs: Don't worry, I'll save you, with that hunky hero of yours ;)

Oh god. I shouldn't have told him about Grimmjow. Ichigo blushed like a damn schoolgirl. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. And he was in the man's place. This was the most cliché thing that has ever happened to him. He groaned and ignored the last text.

He replied to Yoruichi's text by saying that he was fine and he wasn't dead because how could he have replied if he were been dead. Just as he's finished texting, the man finally popped out of the room. There was really no point in reheating the food because it just got cold again.

"Sorry. Had some business to attend to, you waited?"

"Yeah. It's no problem. Come on, let's eat."

The man suavely jumped over the couch and into the seat. Ichigo wad impressed. With a bigger built like his, it was usually loud and clumsy but when he did it, it was smooth and silent. The skill and tact could be from his service years in the navy.

They tuned in to some action movie because it was a classic. They were guys, they loved fighting, guns and crazy stunts. Deciding to break the ice,

"So how long you've been in the navy?"

"3 and a half years." Grimmjow said before shoving a huge piece of tortilla in his mouth. His eyes never leaving the TV.

"So how old were you then?"

"22. Dropped out of college to join."

"Why'd you leave?" Ichigo asked ready knowing the answer but he figured maybe Grimmjow would tell him more like he did now.

"I tore the rotator cuff in my shoulder during my last year of service. Went back to Germany to recuperate then stayed there, I guess. Until last year when I moved here."

"What did you do then? To fill your time." Ichigo asked cautiously. He treaded lightly but he was mildly shocked that the man was actually answering his questions.

Well, until then, because Grimmjow turned to look at him.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"So? I'm just nosey. You could ask me questions if you want to."

Grimmjow just smirked. That was like his default expression. It was either scowling or smirking. Ichigo's heart stuttered a little but he kept his cool.

"Just a bit of boxing here and there. My uncle owns a gym in Germany." The man wasn't looking in his eyes but there was a slight change in his tone.

"Oh cool. So you speak German?"

"Ja. Das ist eine dumme Frage."

Oh god that was so hot.

"Cool. You going to eat that?" Ichigo stared at the bunch of tortillas that was in his plate. He shoved it in his mouth. His tacos were already long gone and he was still hungry.

"Nah. Go ahead. So you were in the Olympics?" Grimmjow absent-mindedly continued the conversation.

"Not really. I was scouted but stuff happened and they took me off the team." Ichigo said bitterly. He had potential but he threw it away. He played with the last tortilla piece, dipping it in the leftover salsa.

"What happened?" Ichigo didn't expect the man to ask the question. He didn't know it was apparently sharing time. He looked to the man and was immediately faced with a whirlpools of blue. The man was just staring at him and it was intense. Ichigo was stumped. Should he tell the man? Without even deliberating too hard,

"My ma passed." He took a deep breath.

"In an accident. I was there. We were out shopping and it was pouring out. She got mugged and then she was stabbed. I tackled him to the ground and I was holding her in my arms. Found out that he had a gun. By then, it was already too late. He wanted to shoot me but she protected me. And then," Ichigo paused. Just for a moment.

"Then she was gone." The truth sank in, again. Ichigo's voice was a little rough. There were no tears this time but it was still difficult to go through the memories again. It was harder to handle when he was drunk but in this sober state, he couldn't cry anymore. He had too much regret to cry about. Grimmjow was listening to him attentively. His arms crossed and his empty plate on the table.

"Wow, that's rough. The culprit in jail?" The man said almost too nonchalantly. But Ichigo didn't hold any hostility towards his tone. The man's been in the army, his sob case must have been a mere tit on the stockpile of deaths he faced every day.

"He got hit by a truck the moment when he tried to run. Heaven's retribution, I hope," He smiled a bittersweet smile. He was glad that the man was in fucking hell because if he were still alive, Ichigo would have given him much worse.

"Good. That ass deserves a spot in hell."

"Amen." Ichigo said. He didn't say anything after that. Both of them sharing the moment together and tuned themselves towards the movie in front of them.

He's been in soft beds recently but this one was not as comfortable. Ichigo groaned in his sleep, rubbing his face on the lumpy surface beneath him. It was so hard yet soft at the same time. And the surface was freaking moving. He slumped back on whatever he was lying on, trying to get a comfortable spot. Fuck this shit. He sluggishly opened his eyes and was faced with white. And peered down to see grey limbs, which weren't his. Wait, Shinji's couch is black. Okay, hold on.

Oh my god. I, Kurosaki Ichigo, am currently lying down on top of a man who beats up people for a living. God, help me. He chanted in his head. And he lifted himself off the man. He was lying atop said man's stomach, the man's crotch was next to his shoulder. He slowly pushed himself up with his hands on the couch where the man wasn't occupying. He got up and just stood there. For a good thirty seconds, he slowly reeled back what happened.

They were eating dinner, they had bonding time and then the movie marathon. So they must have slept during one of the last two movies. It was just to lighten the mood yesterday, Grimmjow had offered to watch the Bourne trilogy. And, Ichigo kindly agreed.

After the sharing they had, an action movie marathon would serve as a good buffer.

They continued sharing about themselves but not so seriously. These moments shared in the middle of the movie where the parts were long and boring.

Both of them hadn't bothered to stand up at any time of the movie so the empty packaging were still left on the table. Albeit neatly stacked by Ichigo, because he was secretly a clean freak. Lol. Booze just dulled that part of him a little. Which was actually a lot, considering there were times he didn't bathe for days even after being thrown in the dumpster.

Somehow they winded up lying atop the couch together, squeezing their two man bodies on it. Ichigo vaguely remembered that Grimmjow had put his feet up then he put his feet up. Then, there was Matt Damon kissing some chick which was followed by, blank so he figured maybe by then he was in dream wonderland.

Grimmjow was still on the couch, dead to the world. Ichigo decided not to disturb him. The man had looked exhausted the moment he opened the door. Ichigo quietly picked up the empty packages and trotted to the kitchen to throw them out.

He helped himself to the toilet and checked his phone. It was three in the morning which was a good time to leave. He deliberated on whether to stay but he shouldn't impose on the man. He practically stayed the night.

Then, there was some grumbling and the other man groaned from the couch. Ichigo stilled and just stayed at where he was. The man didn't wake. Thank god. He had just turned in his sleep.

Taking a random receipt from his wallet, he wrote a note on it and placed it on the fridge. He tiptoed to the door. Before that, he glanced at the man, the man was fine, period. He looked damn good. The blue hair was a little odd but the man made it work with his strong jawline and sharp nose. His bone structure was immaculate and those eyes were just another shade of amazing. He peered down and snorted because there were food stains on the man's stomach. Most probably from where Ichigo had rubbed his face on.

He pasted the note and left the house. Things were finally going fine for him. And he was glad for it.

Grimmjow

It was a long day and he was pissed off. He was on the way back from the boxing gym where he found out that Nnoitora has stolen his packed lunch again. Grimmjow, despite his looks, was a man that came prepared. He always had fights coming up and he didn't want to skip any meals especially with the gruelling training. He had visited his sister's café where Neliel had cooked and packed him some food.

She came to visit some times and cooked in his house occasionally. His sister was an angel, she was someone whom he would protect with his life. She was all he had left.

Grimmjow's life was a mess. He tore his rotator cuff in a brawl on the ship. It was an acute tear but it still rendered him useless. He was discharged for medical reasons where suddenly he was 26 and jobless.

One thing led to another, penniless and desperate, he become in debt to one of the largest mafia group in the continent. They had connections running deep in governments and societies throughout the world. Grimmjow, a man forced into this world, became a conduit in the underground fighting scene. He worked brawls, caged fights and even hits, if they needed an extra arm. He was bound to Aizen like a slave to his master.

Aizen was a cruel, heartless despot who would use anything to get his way. It would have been easier if Grimmjow was alone but he had Neliel. And he was afraid of losing the last thing he held close. He had to protect her from Aizen even if it was the last thing he could do.

A year he worked under the man and he met people like him. Mobsters and fighters, they became his comrades. They bonded through a similar past, the typical being-screwed-over by Aizen, secretly despising him behind the scenes. Friends like Nnoitora, Hallibel, Starkk, were like him. The Espada were a pack of underground gangsters and with the same name, the group represented in the fight scene.

The last fight had been his win. An easy one. He came out practically unhurt. His opponent was just for show. All those threats and flips were a nihility the moment battle started. After two minutes and a shoulder lock 'Kimura', and the man tapped out immediately to Grimmjow's surprise.

Every single time he won a match, a portion of the debt is paid. And the size of each portion depends on whether the audience likes it. Especially the Upper Panels. Rich people, who were willing to throw money around usually came over for entertainment. Betting thousands of dollars on the potential winner, throwing a couple more grand for extra action. This was the true UFC, a fight club, nothing of that televised bullshit.

Opponents there fought with their bodies, here they could bring weapons if they want. Except guns. If a fighter were caught with anything that shoots, someone will shoot them. Fighters rarely come out dead but there were still case, usually from too much blood loss or even poisoning.

Grimmjow was one of those fighters. His life on the line in every fight. When he wasn't fighting, he was training. And Grimmjow was grateful that whenever he was not fighting or training, they would leave him alone.

Grimmjow was pissed and annoyed as fuck. The man just won the fight like a week ago and he was already scheduled for another, this weekend. The duration between two fights consecutively for a fighter usually spanned a month, three weeks tops. Fighters need to be in tip top condition, they need recovery time, training, the works.

Worst thing of all, his opponent was a newbie. He won't even know what style the other uses. He's going in blind. All he knows is that the dude was fucking psycho. He has a bad rep among the other gangs for being the one who always has extra something with him, a concealed weapon somewhere.

The good mood he had a few days ago was completely thrown out of the window. The orange-haired kid came over and brought him out for dinner. At Ramo's, his favourite diner of all time. He practically gave the kid a golden ticket to Wonka's chocolate factory because that place was bomb. And only customers who knew about it could enter. The exterior always looks closed but the kitchen is running full time. They make a mean chili, they make other great food too but the chili was his favourite.

And not forgetting to mention, the company he brought was pretty entertaining. He liked the kid. At first he thought the kid was just an alcoholic who made bad life decisions but as they started to talk, the kid had depth. And a great ass.

Though that remains to be seen. He seemed to have a relationship with that big boobed waitress at the diner, so Grimmjow figured that the kid was straight. Hopefully, bi.

So back to this moment, Grimmjow was angry and hungry because he was out of food and he was in no mood to get out to search. For a skilled fighter, he was pretty lazy. Like the cat which was sleeping on his couch. He has a love-hate relationship with the feline but he tolerates it. He had just came back from the gym, where he was quickly trying to catch up with his training for the next match. Afterwards he went back, tired as fuck and watched TV, half naked from the shower.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

What the fuck? That had better not be Nnoitora.

And fortunately it wasn't. And to his pleasure, it was Ichigo. He did say that he hated being called a 'kid'. He was wearing a grey hoodie, with some jeans and boots. He looked like a college student. And he definitely looked better than the last time Grimmjow saw him. The dark eye circles weren't as opaque, and his skin looked clearer. Though his eyes and hair were still as bright, almost glowing.

Well, this is a surprise. The kid could have read his mind because he was hungry as fuck. And it's free. Seriously, he must have had done something way too good in the past to have deserved this. There was actually a long moment of silence. The kid was staring at his bare chest. He hadn't bothered to wear a shirt in his own house. There was a blush creeping on the kids cheeks. Even girls don't stare at his body that long. And now I think the kids most definitely bi.

"Helloooo... anyone in there?" Grimmjow just smirked and waved the man in the face, to see if the kid was going to keep staring at him the whole day.

"Uh… I brought food." Well, duh, he could see that.

"Didn't I just see you like 2 days ago?"

"But, you know, I still feel that one meal can't just cover like 2 life savings. It deserves like, what, 6 at least," Ichigo replied. Grimmjow did save his life twice but he didn't think much of it. It wasn't even too much of a hassle.

"You know what, come in. I was going to order food anyway," which was obviously a lie. He was going to call delivery because he was in no way getting out of his house again.

The kid followed behind him, obviously familiar with the format of the house. Grimmjow looked over to the couch to see if the darn cat was still there. It seemed to have run away when there was a sound at the door. The cat hated strangers which was a perk because he didn't want the cat to be a topic of conversation. I mean, he didn't want people to believe that he liked to take care of the cat and shit like that.

Suddenly his phone was vibrating. "You got food for yourself? I mean, since you got us food, you should just hang out here for dinner. I'm gonna get a shirt. Just set up the food in front of the TV," he entered the room and picked up the first shirt he saw.

He took out the phone from his pocket. It was Neliel.

"Hey," he grunted.

"You have to seriously get those gang members friends of yours to get away from me. They won't leave me alone." Now that was a serious conversation, he expected her to call for something menial like get some cheese. This made him instantly furious.

"What? I already spoke to them last week." What he meant was he threatened the whole group with a bat, in his hand at their hangout spot. If they were this persistent, it meant that someone sent them and they aren't out to mess with his sister.

"Well, they are back Grimmjow and they are scaring away the customers." Neliel owned a café down some blocks.

"Just chase them out or something." Neliel could actually chase them out, she was a beast but they could easily outnumber him and that was what that got him worried.

"I know it's my cafe but I can't do that. It'll look bad to the customers." The café was in a quaint neighbourhood. Company like that usually scared the people away.

"Okay, okay. I'll get them to stop following you." He tried to appease his sister.

"Please, Grimm."

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Be safe, okay." They only had each other left. Both of them always trying to keep the other safe.

"Yeah, bye."

Mother-effing fuck. This was just a damn prank. That persistent bastard is a pain in his ass. Aizen was a heartless asshole who won't stop at anything to get what he wants exactly the way he wants it. The fucker sends his goons on his sister and Grimmjow is forced to obey "obediently" with whatever that was the man's new plan.

Immediately dialling Ulqiorra, he was livid. He was practically out of this realm pissed.

The call went through.

"Get your bitches away from my sister."

"Language, Grimmjow." He hated Aizen's assistant. The emotionless asshole was always around the man, obeying his orders like a needy bitch. Hearing his voice made his blood pressure through the roof.

"Look, you aren't Aizen. I don't have to listen to you. Why the fuck are they around her? I didn't do anything wrong." Aizen always had a problem with him. But he can't exactly blame him, he wasn't the best example of a good minion. He often messed things up, either taking it too far and not bothering to do it properly. His theory was 'If you want me to do it, fine but don't expect it to be a good job'.

"Aizen wants you to win the next fight." That's stupid. When will he ever lose? The man had a record to hold up. The Sexta wasn't the sixth in ranking because of his looks. He worked hard for that spot and he ain't going to stop.

"Of course, I'll fucking win. What the hell do you mean?"

"Aizen wants you to win, which means he wants your opponent dead. The upper panels pay higher for cruelty."

Those sick fucks.

"He knows I don't kill in the ring. We agreed."

"An agreement that wasn't set in stone. Kill him in the ring or your sister will be ours."

"Don't you dare fucking touch my sister!" He growled in the earpiece. Anytime they even mentioned her name, he knew he was at a loss.

"Sexta."

"Fine, I'll do it." He could only exasperatingly answer.

"Aizen wants you to do it with your fists." That usually meant they want a merciless, torturous show. Fights like that had the winner taunt the crowd, asking them for more. That usually got them riled up, betting even more money for more blood. It was inhumane. It was business.

"Fine."

"But I will only do it when you get those asswipes off my sister's back." Quickly trying to set up his condition, in case they weren't going to leave her alone.

"I shall see to it." The words of affirmation calmed him a little but the resignation was too great.

He ended the call and threw the phone on the bed. He sat on the bed a moment, his head shoved in his hands. The problem wasn't the killing. He's killed plenty in his time. But it was the process. That savagery that will awaken, he abhorred that part of him. That primal instinct that grows every time he kills. It was a sick part of him, he didn't want to be the same as those people. He joined Aizen thinking that he could bury that part of him. It was just a hopeless dream, the man made it worse. The hatred that built made the animal angrier, vengeful. He had no choice. He had to become everything that he hated to save the one he loves.

He stared at the window and it was already dark. Shit, the kids still there.

He quickly ran out, hoping the kid could understand. "Sorry. Had some business to attend to, you waited?"

Putting those stressing thought behind, he jumped over the couch. Ichigo had bought his chili and even a side of tortillas, which was coincidentally his favourite. It was the same as what he ordered. The fact that the kid knew what he wanted left him a little warm. Stop it Grimmjow, you're acting like a damn chick. He shoved a spoonful in his mouth. And it was heaven. He felt the Ichigo's knee bump into his. Having someone next to him in his place was new, but he didn't dislike it. It was nice.

The dinner went from nice to serious way too fast. They talked about topics that were considered uncharted territory. Grimmjow always kept that part of him locked but something about the kid made him just want to let it all out. He answered the kid truthfully and he once never doubted the kid. Ichigo was a complete stranger to him but he felt comfortable with him. And it wasn't one-way to his luck. Even Ichigo opened up to him and the kid seriously had it rough.

He was so young to have all that happen to him. Grimmjow could finally understand why the kid was an alcoholic when he first met him. Even he would have done the same. But he didn't. He made worse decisions than Ichigo but he left that out. Some things are never meant to be shared.

Both of them were stuffed and the atmosphere was way too serious. Grimmjow looked for something to distract them. And conveniently there was the TV. They chose to watch the action movie marathon thing that was going on. With their stomachs full and it getting late, they were soon knocked out.

There was a comfortable weight on his chest

Then it moved away but he didn't care. He just kept on sleeping. Sleeping is life. Life is sleeping.

After a few hours, he finally woke. Ugh my back. The piece of garbage couch was comfortable for sitting down but it was too soft for a bed. He opened his eyes to see that it was already bright out. He peered around him to find the table clean, and the kid gone.

He must have already left.

He stood up to realise that the cat had been sleeping on his stomach. The cat hissed at him and jumped off to the other chair. The cat must have been the thing that was sleeping on him. He grabbed the hem of his shirt to take it off to realise there were food stains on it. Whatever, he was a messy eater anyways. He threw it on the couch and headed for the kitchen for a pick me up.

Hey, thanks for eating with me yesterday. It was nice. We should do it again. Definitely.

- Ichigo

P.S It was raining. Borrowed your only umbrella.

The kid wrote it in the back of some receipt and put it on the fridge like a damn girlfriend. He smirked. The kid definitely interested him. Then his phone rang and whatever good feelings he had was flushed down the drain. He sighed again. A long one this time

ICHIGO

When he went back, he found a couple of men leaving Yoruichi's place. They were wearing suits and drove Lincoln Navigators. There were moments like this which were rare but wasn't too much of a surprise after the first time.

The woman owned an apartment building and a couple more from what he heard from her so he was already expecting the type of company she was with. He always ignored that part of her because what was in front of him was the reality. The kind-hearted woman who gave him a home and who kind of is his best friend. He passed her floor to wash up and meet the contact that Shinji had told him. He couldn't turn down the extra cash. His rent was coming up and he had to eat somehow.

He ended up in Roppongi district again, this time taking the express route which was only ten minutes. This time he was at the shop-house lane in the district. It was still as fancy as where Shinji lived but not as rich or tall. It seems a little more humble and more colourful. Though it was still modern and 'hipster'.

No matter what, the area reeked of rich people. So he ended up in front of one of the shop-houses, which was a boutique. I.D, the name that was stamped on the top of the entrance. It was sleek modern, a mix of wood and glass. The elegant design gave the clothes a great background, allowing them to stand out.

Ichigo this time more prepared, wore the same brown leather jacket that Shinji gave with a white V-neck underneath. Paired with his usual jeans and boots. He hid the hole in his jacket from where the thug stabbed him with a grey scarf. He made sure to put on some cologne when he left. Bitterly remembering that Shinji said he smelled like a dead rat.

"Hi, I'm looking for Uryuu Ishida. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo, the waiter from the art gallery." He asked the cashier. She had short grey hair (obviously died because she looked way too young), bobbed and was wearing a black dress. She looked youthful and hip, certainly suiting the environment around her. She put down the magazine, looking him from head to toe.

"Oh, you must be the new model?"

"I guess?" It was weird to hear someone call him a model. He didn't look particularly handsome in his opinion. He was tall though not blindingly tall like Chad or maybe Grimmjow. He had ginger hair and he wasn't as bulky and muscular like how he imagined models would be.

He followed her up the stairs to an office. Politely knocking,

"Kurosaki Ichigo is here."

"Thanks, you may go." He heard a voice say from behind the door. He could hear a sowing machine work, he waited calmly.

"You may enter." Ichigo entered the room. It was a sowing kind of a work room, as he expected, though it was extremely clean and organised. It was all white in contrast with the colours of the deluge amount of cloths and varying threads mounted and displayed on the walls. The mystery man had his back faced to Ichigo, he was busy doing something on the machine.

The man swirled from his chair and there was another familiar face. It was no wonder the name sounded familiar.

"Uryuu Ishida, at your service."

"I know you. From high school, right?" The man rolled his eyes, the man annoyed Ichigo already.

"We were in the same class for like three years."

"Oh yeah. I remember." He didn't. It was only a vague memory. He wasn't good at remembering names or faces, which in reality was a rude habit. It got him into a lot of trouble in school. His hair already attracted the wrong kind of people, with his bad memory that certainly got him the best kind of response.

"Obviously not enough. You didn't even recognise me at the art gallery."

"Oh come on, there were hundreds of people and I was the only waiter. Faces isn't my biggest priority." Ichigo tried to defend himself, but of course to no avail.

"Whatever." Wow, if only he weren't paying him, Ichigo would've sent a fist flying to that snobbish face.

"So, what am I doing here?"

"I'm offering you to be my main model for my spread in a magazine."

Oh wow.

"But I haven't even modelled before. And I don't even know your designs."

"Thankfully, Ichigo I am willing to look over your ignorance because of the way you look," the man was saying that as if he was a gift to the world. There was no end to this man's arrogance.

"Excuse me?" He tried to make sense of what the man just said because he couldn't believe it the first time.

"To be simple, you have an image that would immensely suit my fall designs. And with your colourings," the man gestured at his hair and around his eyes,

"It would be a great canvas for me to display my work."

"So you're saying I look good," Ichigo blatantly said with some degree of confidence.

The man rolled his eyes again even further this time, if it were even possible.

"Yes, Kurosaki."

Immediately, Ichigo agreed to be the man's sole model. He wasn't going to let a friend down. They hadn't been close in school but a friend is still a friend. And he could use the extra cash. The man had promised him a down payment of two grand and a contract with Ishida Designs. He could stand to earn more if the magazine made huge sales. And he was the only model. They settled the administrative parts first and they shook on it.

Then, he was properly introduced to the 2 only employees, Kotetsu Isane and Mizuiro Shojima. Kotetsu was the cashier and the manager of the store while Mizuiro helped Ishida with sowing etcetera. The company was established like a month ago and Ishida already scored a spread on a magazine. Ichigo was impressed with the man, who was the new upcoming designer for the modern body.

"Strip."

Ichigo was a little unnerved. But, he did as he was told. Pulling the scarf, he had forgotten that there was a gaping hole on the jacket.

"What on earth is that?" Ishida's shocked voice sounded, it was as if something died and fell from the ceiling into his lap. He pointed to Ichigo's chest.

"It's a leather jacket." As if the man was stupid, the man was a fashion designer. He had to know at least what he was wearing.

"No, I'm talking about the hole in it."

"It's just a tear! It got caught on a rusty nail somewhere." Ichigo quickly lied but he knew he couldn't fool the man. It's not possible for a hole to be torn by a nail at that area of the body.

Ishida studied his expression but didn't say anything.

"You're wearing one of my first designs." Ishida said, quickly changing the conversation.

"Are you serious? Shinji gave it to me." The man arrogantly snorted at Ichigo. Honestly, his blood pressure ticked every time he did that.

"Shinji is a jewellery designer and I am a clothes designer. Besides, I made that for him in high school. He paid me and asked me to make it a little bigger than his size."

Ichigo was stumped. Shinji, even then, had bought him a leather jacket. Fuck, he was such an idiot. He felt bad again.

"Give me that. I'll give you a new one, throw this one away."

"No! I'll keep it." He immediately reached for the leather piece that the man held in his arms. The jacket did save him once, without it, there would have been much worse wounds. It had sentimental value.

"But no way are you going to wear that out. As my new model, you are not going to be a fashion disaster with my name stamped on your head."

Calmness, Ichigo. Calm is key. Calm is good, great even. Breathe in. Breathe out.

This man tested the ever-loving shit out of him.

The next few minutes was an utter nightmare. The man pinched and prodded him. Criticising occasionally but studiously measuring every detail of his body with the tape measure.

Then he was immediately shooed out of the room and downstairs. He didn't even manage to put on his shirt properly when Isane shoved him in the changing room with some more clothes.

The next two hours were spent him taking off and putting on different combinations of clothes. The other worker snapped a picture of every single outfit precisely. He couldn't even get a word in as the woman and the man kept babbling on what colour suited him best blah blah blah. Ichigo just tuned them out and thought about what he's going to have for dinner etcetera.

Then his phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the caller id.

"Hello, is this Kurosaki Ichigo? I am Unohana Retsu from Kurosaki clinic. You have an appointment today. Will you be coming in?"

Ichigo was quiet. It was the 16th already. Ichigo didn't realise that a month had already passed. Just a few days ago, he had sworn to sobriety. He had changed. He had learned of things he was too immature to understand then. He had repented.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He snapped from his thoughts.

"Yeah. Sorry. Um, when is that last slot before closing?"

"It will be 6.30pm."

"Great, give me that slot."

"Okay Mr Kurosaki. Thank you for finally coming in." The calm voice was welcoming and a tone tad similar to his mother's. A very kind and trustworthy woman. It's no wonder his dad would hire her for the clinic.

"Yeah. Could you do a favour for me and leave my name as anonymous? I want to hand in my file personally when I'm there."

"Oh, I understand." It sounded like the woman understood more than that. Woman had the scary sense of knowing and Ichigo trusted that.

"Thanks." It was the only reply he could give.

"You're welcome."

The call ended. Ichigo was laying on one of the couches in the boutique when he answered the call and he had remained there. He spent another few minutes there just thinking. The other two had buzzed off somewhere to get more clothes or something.

Was he ready to face his dad? Was he ready to meet the family he left six years ago?

The nervousness made his stomach clench. He knew the time would come but he didn't expect to be so fast. He looked at his palms, studying the veins beneath the skin. He usually did that to calm his thoughts. It was already 3pm. He didn't know what to do when he saw his dad and his sisters but he knew he had to apologise. Those years they spent alone, from what he heard from Shinji and Orihime, they still held strong although shaky.

I'm going to go get daffodils. Mom loved daffodils.

It was 4pm when he left the shop. He was given three huge bags of clothes that was to be his new wardrobe. As the new face of the brand, although the public has not yet known, he had to portray Ishida's designs on point. He was so ready to disagree but they conveniently pulled out the contract he just signed.

"According to the clause in Section 4 part iii," Ichigo rolled his eyes wayyy back, trying to emphasise to the man that he honestly couldn't care less. The man who was too into reading the contract purposely ignored Ichigo's expression.

"The model must wear the designs at all times when in public, acceptable in differing combinations that must be accepted beforehand."

It was already signed so what the heck. Free clothes, his luck was just getting better. He went back to his home in a knee length coat, made of a navy, woollen material with black buttons, paired with a grey turtleneck and the same jeans and boots he was given. He received a good amount of stares but he played it off as confidence. He had looked into the mirror when he left and he could say he looked really good. The clothes really did suit him well and it hid the fact that he was still weak under the material.

Before heading to the clinic, he stopped by the florist to get a bouquet of yellow daffodils. His dad secretly loved flowers as he remembered. He loved to garden with his mum and he could remember as a kid that his mum and dad would flirt while gardening. It was a sweet memory that he would never forget.

His stomach was full of butterflies the whole time. He fretted over everything, what would he say? How would his dad react? Will his dad even forgive him? He was a mess but he couldn't break down. Not now. Ichigo decided that no matter what, he was going to apologise to the man even if he were to be disowned.

His father was the man who raised him. The man who provided for his family and at the same time, could even heal the people around him. And Ichigo took a part of that man on July 17. Ichigo knew he could never return it so at least he wanted to try to make up for it.

Slowly but surely, he walked through the same neighbourhood. The same path he once took to school every single day. The exterior of the house not even a little changed. The paint was still clear, the windows always strewn open. The same garden, still flourishing with small vegetables and flowers. Instead of small bicycles, he saw larger ones. A transition in size, signalling that his baby sisters was all grown up.

He walked past his house entrance to take the one at the clinic. His heart was pounding with every step. The glass door pushed open and he saw the same wooden counter that he had once worked at during one summer, serving customers. The smell of the clinic all too familiar, every single furniture the same. A little old but all in the same location, even the paintings of flowers that his mom once painted. He honestly teared up a little but he held it in. He hugged the bouquet close to his chest.

"Uh, I'm here for the 6:30?" He told the lady behind the desk.

He was pleased when he saw the voice matched her appearance. She was a woman, not too old but still was a few years ahead of him. She looked the same age with his mother and he figured that his mother would have been like her if she were still alive. She wore a simple cardigan and had a long braid on her shoulder,

"Oh yes. Head to the main office. You are a little late so you should expect Dr Kurosaki to be packing. I believe you know the way."

He just nodded. His voice stuck in his throat. Every single step he took he counted. He waited in front of the door. You can do this Ichigo. Help me ma.

He steeled himself up and knocked on the door.

Dun, Dun, DUUUUUNNNNNN~~~~ Hope to see more viewers on this guys! THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! I'm going to post this story on AO3 as well, so keep a look out!

Please enjoy and review!