warning: AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, yet again, quite a lot of angst in this chapter, established relationship, swearing. But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :) If this seems a bit confusing don't worry...all questions will be answered in the long run.
And if it seems boring at the beginning it's all building the atmosphere so keep reading ya.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue...
"Was it alright?"
"What?"
"The tape. Did it go according to plan?"
Ichigo fiddled with the belt loop in his jeans, rubbing his fingers over the fabric slightly as he looked at the man before him. Aizen was perched on his seat, body thrust forward, an eerie smile across his face.
"It was...alright," Ichigo said pausing slightly. It had gone alright. There had been no major setbacks. Well no major setbacks ignoring the fact that it had all come flooding back in painful chunks forcing him to remember each agonising detail, the exact thing he'd happened to overlook when he'd made this 'plan'. Yeah, apart from that it went great. Aizen seemed to notice his hesitation.
"Define alright," the man said. Ichigo grew uncomfotable under his gaze.
"Can I just have the next tape?" he said, trademark scowl sliding into place.
"Now now Ichigo. Patience is a vertue," Ichigo could have kicked him. Instead he sighed. Loudly. Aizen picked up on this (it was rather hard to miss) and obviously decided to continue his interrogating.
"How did Grimmjow react? Was it positive?"
Ichigo didn't really know what to say.
"He...well, he reacted better then I thought," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"How did you think he would react?"
"Well, I dunno. A bit...angry?" he said, almost asking himself.
How had he thought Grimmjow would react? Certainly not with the level on understanding seen the day previous. He'd expected a bit of shouting, followed by some arguing followed by a long agonising talk. He'd expected the man to be less tactful. Even after he'd noticed subtle changes in behavior. Different looks being sent his way then the normal cocky smirk. And to be honest it grated on his nerves. Grimmjow was doing exactly what he'd not wanted him to do albeit in a very subtle hardly noticeable way. But he did notice. He didn't want to say anything though. At least he hadn't walked out on him. Thought he was a - freak.
"Was he not?"
Ichigo focused his gaze on Aizen slightly, being jerked out of his thoughts by the question. He shook his head lightly.
"No. He was really...understanding almost," he said.
"Has he been acting differently around you after what he heard?"
Ichigo could have sworn the man before him was a mind reader. A freaky-probable-closet-paedophile mind reader, but a mind reader none the less. He cocked his head to the side.
"Yeah he has actually. Nothing major but..." Ichigo didn't know how to continue so shrugged slightly.
Aizen gave an understanding nod.
"I see. Do you mind?" Aizen asked. Ichigo looked slightly thoughtful, his eyes drifting to rest on the window.
"Not really. I don't think he knows he's doing it," he said finally.
"Very well. So I take it you want the tape now?"
Ichigo blinked. He'd momentarily forgotten his reason for coming, having slipped into his therapy routine. He nodded, watching as Aizen slipped his hand into his drawer and pulled out a tape. It took much less time then the last tape. Maybe the man had plans and couldn't afford to spend too much time screwing up his patient. Yeah. Like Aizen would actually have 'plans'.
"Could I have the other tape?" Aizen asked, as he handed the tape over.
"Yeah, wait a minute..." Ichigo said, rummaging through his bag until his fingers brushed over something sharp and plastic. He pulled it out and passed it to the man, his eyes falling on the clock on the wall. He couldn't help but watch as the seconds hand travelled ever closer to the 12.
"This tape..." his thought were interrupted yet again by the man before him "is a continuation of where the last tape ended. It is yet again, quite neccessary to listen to should you want your boyfriend to have the whole picture,"
Aizen passed him the tape.
"Yeah, okay then," Ichigo said, fumbling it into his bag and adjusting the strap slightly. A thought struck him.
"Wait. Have you re-listened to all of these then?" he asked, his brows furrowing. Aizen smirked.
"How else would I know what was on them?"
Ichigo could think of several reasons. Ichigo was also fully convinced that Aizen had no social life. That wasn't exactly a shocking revelation though.
"You should get going Ichigo," Aizen said, and Ichigo couldn't help but feel entirely grateful. The room was getting to him, the windows were shut and the walls seemed to be closer together then he remembered.
"Yeah," he said walking towards the door and grabbing the handle. He didn't bother looking back, he knew exactly what he'd see (one smirking Aizen sitting strangely in his seat). Instead he stepped out. Normally he'd walk straight home (and that was a task in itself). But no. He had to stop by the shop to buy some milk. A simple enough task in itself, and Ichigo kept telling himself that. But no matter how calm, cool and collected he looked on the outside, inside he felt like he was walking into an exam, his insides clenching painfully, his chest contracting slightly and he struggled to appear normal.
That was exactly what he tried to do as he stepped into the shop. Exactly what he'd done numerous times before, partly because Grimmjow worked there himself and partly because they often ran out of various items on the days Grimmjow wasn't working (coincidence? Ichigo thought not). It was common practice for him to have to make a detour after his classes or sessions to enter the shop. It didn't make it any easier.
The doors slid open and he walked in, the hideous shoppin music piercing his ears. No wonder Grimmjow listened to his ipod hidden under his shirt during his shifts.
The store was empty and Ichigo noticed that they had changed where everything was. Meaning that finding the milk would prove to be even more difficult. Deciding to risk it all he turned to the man stacking to his left and coughed slightly, ignoring the fact his hands seemed to clam up. It was only another person. There was no reason for him to panic. The man turned around and Ichigo realised that it was the guy Grimmjow was constantly talking about. Ulquiorra something.
"Yeah..." he began at the mans blank slightly scary stare "do you know where the milk is?" he asked. It sounded stupid even to his own ears. The man merely pointed to Ichigo's right.
"Aisle four," he said. Ichigo nodded and turned.
"Do you know Grimmjow?" he heard the man's voice, and turned (with a scowl) to face him.
"Yeah," he said knowing perfectly well he was sounding defensive "why?"
"No reason," the man said, staring straight at him. It was starting to creep him out, so he muttered a thanks and headed off to the aisle, picking the milk up and racing to the checkouts. He couldn't wait to get out of there.
As he walked, milk swinging in his hand, hitting against his thigh, he tried to keep his mind blissfully blank. Blank was good. Blank meant nothing vaguely ominous could be thought.
Blank was hard. So he settled for thinking of the blue haired guy he lived with. Yeah, that was always a nice thought. He smiled slightly, then stopped realising where he was. Smiling to youself in the middle of a street was a good way to get a bad reputation.
He looked up at the stairs to his home, the light shining out faintly from under the door and he practically ran to them before awkwardly removing his keys from his bag, one hand on the milk, one hand diving through the various items in his bag.
The door swung open and he walked in shutting it with a flick of his heel. There was no smell of burning (thank god) so Ichigo could only presume his boyfriend had given up on the whole 'Chef Grimmjow' idea.
He felt a presense appear behind him as he placed the milk in the fridge and he turned to see Grimmjow attempting to look nonchalent, leaning against a counter.
"Did you tell Ulquiorra about me?" Ichigo asked, unable to stop the question. Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.
"Why?" he asked, sounding suspicious. Ichigo shrugged.
"He asked if I knew you," he said. His boyfriend walked over.
"He asked you? Is that all he said?" he asked. Ichigo nodded.
"He didn't go all freaky on yer did he?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow.
"Freaky on me?" he asked. Grimmjow nodded slightly.
"Never mind. What did you say?"
"I said yeah," Ichigo said. He scowled at the look on his boyfriend's face.
"What was I supposed to say no? Act like I didn't know you?" he said letting some of the anger he felt show through.
"I didn't say that," Grimmjow said, sounding angry himself.
"Yeah well you implied it," Ichigo said, his hands clenching automatically.
"And where did yer get tha' idea from?" Grimmjow continued. Ichigo noticed he was running his fingers through his hair and sighed.
"The fact that...you know what. Never mind. Let's just act like this didn't just happen," Ichigo said, the sudden anger leaving him. It was always like this. Arguments started and halted before they were really resolved.
"You can't just do that..." Grimmjow said, obviously shocked at the sudden mood change. Ichigo shrugged.
"I just did,"
There was no real argument from that and another awkward silence crept in. Ichigo kept his eyes focused on the floor. He had to change this. He had to say something that would make everything okay again.
"I got another tape,"
The temperature seemed to drop, but for what it was worth, it did put them back on a stable-ish route.
"Oh...from Aizen?" Grimmjow asked. Ichigo knew that the older man already knew the answer. He was just looking for something to say. Ignoring the easy opening of yet another argument, he nodded.
"Yeah," he said.
"So...do you wanna listen to it?" he heard Grimmjow ask. His voice had dropped quieter, was softer at the mention of the tape. Grimmjow didn't notice. Ichigo found it impossible to ignore.
"Yeah. I'll just go get it," he said. Shouldering the back he walked back into the living room to find his boyfriend sitting, waiting for him, the tape player sitting ominously on the table. Somebody was obviously eager.
Dropping down next to him he opened the back pulling out the tape in it's plastic case. Opening he noticed the faint scribbles on the front. Ichigo Kurosaki. He recognised Aizen's hand writing. Yet again he found himself wondering how such an obviously sadistic man got into the 'helping' profession.
He slotted the tape in and pressed play, leaning back, feeling with surprise at the teal haired man beside him took his hand. He turned his head to face him, but it was as if only his hand had moved, his face was stern and set, giving nothing away.
The tape whirred, a crackling sound causing Ichigo to wince before Aizen's voice filled his ears.
"Are you going to be more co-operative today Ichigo?"
There was no answer. Ichigo could remember it now, the awkward feeling that had become him when he stepped into the office that day.
"Why-are you still fucking taping me?"
Ichigo heard his past self reply. Each syllable sounded hissed, painful like he was forced to be there...oh...wait...he was.
"Do you want to continue from where we were last week Ichigo?" Aizen obviously ignored his question (likely deeming it unworthy to answer).
"Where were we last week,"
"You'd just told me about when you'd been hit,"
Silence. Present day Ichigo felt Grimmjow inadvertently tighten the grip on his hand. He felt himself squeeze back.
"If...if I tell you. Can I go?" Ichigo listened to himself sound so - pathetic. Begging almost to go. Sounding so unsure, so different from the Ichigo on the last tape.
"Today? Yes, you can go after you tell me. But you will need to come back next week until we understand what happened,"
"Understand? I understand exactly what happened. That bitch screwed me up. Good and proper. What's so hard to understand about that?"
He heard himself change, his voice turn angry and the pleading tone vanish from his voice. It was slightly shocking how quickly the change had occurred.
"Ichigo, we need to fully assess what's going on with you...what's going on inside your head, and for that you're going to need to talk to me,"
Ichigo heard himself sigh. Loudly.
"Fine. Fucking fine. I'll talk. You wanna know what happened after that? It all-got-worse,"
Eleven year old Ichigo stood in front of the bathroom mirror. The door was locked, window kept slightly ajar as he stood balancing precariously on the side of the bath, leaning forward near the sink to see his face. He turned it left and right, almost feeling that if he did this enough times the ugly bruise forming across his cheek would vanish and he'd wake up. The aching in his jaw confirmed that this was all too real.
He remembered walking into the kitchen after it happened, still holding his cheek and sitting numbly at the table. God knows how long he'd sat there replaying the words uttered in his head like a sick tape.
I can hurt your sisters.
I can hurt your sisters.
I can hurt your sisters.
He almost had the urge to out pen to paper. Maybe if he wrote it enough times it would stop replaying in his head. His father had walked in loudly, declaring his appearance. Ichigo had turned to see him, his eyes still slightly unfocused as he saw her...her walk in, hand in hand with Yuzu, smiling, laughing. Acting like she hadn't just violently attacked an eleven year old that morning. She turned to look at him pointedly. The words were still whirring round his head. He had to act like nothing had happened. Like everything was okay. He turned to look at Yuzu, her small face beaming and he forced an awkward lopsided smile on his face. He was sure it looked more like a grimace.
"Ahh...Ichigooo!" his father announced, walking towards him, placing his hands on either shoulder. Think normal. What would he normally do? He'd normally shrug him off. That was a relief to be honest. His father stood beaming for a second, watching him, before a frown line appeared.
"Ichigo. Have you been fighting again?" he asked, a small rare moment of seriousness.
Come on Ichigo. He mentally berated himself. If he couldn't act normal...the woman was staring at him. Inside he was secretly screaming. No. I didn't fight. Does every injury I have have to be my fault? It was her. Her. He nodded.
"They attacked me first," he said, scowling. His father's frown immediately turned into a beam.
"Well done my young son! Defending ones self is the key to all..."
Ichigo tuned out of his father's useless rant. He'd just lied to his father. His own flesh and blood (no matter how much he'd like to deny the fact). And he felt guilty. Dirty. He stood up.
"And where are you going my son?" his father asked him. He shrugged.
"I'm having a shower," he said, before turning back and walking up the stairs to the bathroom, each step weighing him down. He nearly tripped when he heard that the woman had picked up his sisters from their club. He'd forgotten. And she could have done anything to them. She hadn't, but she could have.
And this is how Ichigo found himself gingerly rotating his jaw in the mirror, watching as a suspiciously finger shaped bruise formed across his jaw line.
He stepped into the shower and turned up the heat. He never really understood it. When he'd been taught in school about washing away sins he'd never got why people had thought that being splashed by a bit of water removed them of their evil deeds. It was just water after all. But as Ichigo scrubbed his skin in small rotations, as if washing away the events of the day he understood slightly more. But no matter how many circles he etched into his skin with the brush, the fact that he'd lied to his father remained. The fact that he hadn't fought back was still a fact. That he'd forgotten to pick up his sisters. It wasn't suddenly erased by the steaming water. All that happened was that his skin was now bright red.
As he dried himself and changed into his pyjamas he felt no cleaner. The words were still echoing in his head. Images of his sisters followed. Yuzu being hit repeatedly. Karin thrown down the stairs, her limp body cascading down like some sick, bloody water fall. It was safe to say that Ichigo didn't sleep too well that night.
He nearly missed his bowl as he poured the cereal in, some spilling out over the edge and lying dejectedly on the table. He was too tired to care. Every times he'd closed his eyes the images had flashed, each one more bloody and brutal then the last until he'd been tempted to scream.
He'd always had nightmares. About his mother. Her, lying dead. Eyes wide open. Staring into nothing. Those nightmares were tame compared to last night. It seemed that as Ichigo grew older, so had his imagination, and he cursed it's ability to conjure such morbid dreams.
"Ichigo!" the excited voice of his sister filled his head. It sounded like she was underwater, but that may have just been because his head felt like cotton wool. He tried to smile, the action causing his dry lips to rip slightly. He sluggishly dragged his tongue over them.
"Hey Yuzu," he said. He pushed aside his cereal. He wasn't very hungry.
"Ichigo?" she asked again. Ichigo looked down into her concerned eyes.
"I'm fine yuzu," he said, forcing himself to sound confident. Her eyes lit up.
"Okay then," she said chirpily.
"What's for breakfast?" the tired voice of Karin filled his ears and he turned to see the small girl slouch into the kitchen. Her eyes were steeled and not letting any emotion show though, but he was used to that. Ever since their mother died it had been the same.
"Er...cereal," he said, trying to force his brain to work. Lack of sleep equalled a non-coherent Ichigo.
"Where's Aya?" Yuzu asked happily from where she was kneeling, digging through the cupboard to find a suitable bowl.
"I don't know," Ichigo said, unable to make his voice any less clipped then it was. Since when was she Aya? Since when was she anything more then that woman? The mention of her caused Ichigo's brain to begin to work slightly. He had to avoid that crazy woman.
"Found them!" Ichigo turned to see Yuzu holding two multicoloured bowls proudly. He gave a small smile back.
Waiting until both girls had sat down at the table, Ichigo reached over and took their bowls, tipping the cereal until there was sufficient amount. His head kept threatening to drop to the table.
"Can you do without milk today?" he asked, silently begging them to agree. He could do without spilling milk all over the table. His brain was just not co-operating.
"Okay," Yuzu said brightly. Thank god for small children being simple minded.
"Is'at okay Karin?" he asked, stifling a yawn. She just shrugged, crossing her arms. Ichigo slid the bowl back to them anyway, taking it for a yes, and watched as Yuzu happily munched, and Karin would eat the odd flake when she thought no one was looking.
Yuzu swallowed noisily then stopped, looking at Ichigo's bowl.
"Aren't you having breakfast Ichigo?" she said, looking confused.
"I'm not hungry Yuzu," he said. She still looked confused.
"But...why?" she asked. Ichigo was really not in the mood for this.
"Because I had lots to eat yesterday," he said simply. The girl appeared to think about this then nodded happily like it had never happened.
"Okay," she said. Ichigo resited the urge to face palm knowing it would likely hurt allot more the usual thanks to the palm faced bruise across his face.
"Family!" the arrival of his father was announced by the usual scream coming from the man. He bent down hugging his sisters (Karin pretending it wasn't happening and Yuzu higging back witha squeal) before patting Ichigo firmly on the head.
"Ayako will be here any minute to...!" the sound of a doorbell hit Ichigo's ears. His head was already swaying from lack of sleep and his fathers gesture of affection had not helped the growing headache at all. Isshin rushed out to get the doorbell, Ichigo resting his head in his hands. He heard the door swing shut. Footsteps.
"You're father told me to tell you goodbye,"
He shot up at the sound of her voice. She wasn't even looking at him, instead smiling at his sisters. Yuzu leaped down from the chair and skipped towards her.
"Aya," she said. A disgustingly happy laugh made it's way out of the woman's mouth as she ruffled her sisters hair. Ichigo felt his hands grip the table.
"Hello Yuzu. Are you ready for school?" she asked. Yuzu nodded her head, and Ichigo watched with deepening dread as she ran to drag her sister out the room, most likely to grab their school bags.
They were alone in the room. Exactly the situation he hadn't wanted. He couldn't stop his heart rate from quickening as the silence became claustrophobic. Then, slowly, she turned to him.
"Hello Ichigo," she said, leaning against the table top examining her nails. Ichigo could see from where he was that each digit had a sufficient amount of dirt under the nail. All in all just another thing about her that disgusted him.
He refused to answer.
"Now now Ichigo, it's not very nice to ignore people," she said patronisingly. Ichigo swallowed. She walked over to the bench, grabbing the loaf of bread and a knife. Ichigo felt more alert at the sight of the flashing utensil as she hacked through the loaf.
"What do you want in your sandwiches?" she asked. Ichigo decided to play along, her having a knife and him being half awake.
"Cheese," he said. He sounded a lot more confident then he felt. There was a silence.
"Alright then. Cheese it is," she said, walking over to the fridge, he shoes making awkward squeaking noises against the tiles. His eyes never left the knife that she kept in he hand. He watched as she cut the cheese sloppily and hastily layed it over the bread. He didn't dare ask for butter. He watched as her grimy nails dug into the bread as she pressed it onto the cheese, leaving four finger prints fresh in the bread.
As she handed him the bag he thanked her. He knew he wasn't going to eat them. He was going to throw them away as soon as he reached school. There was no way he was eating anything she's prepared for him. No way.
As his sisters ran in (well his sister pulling his other sister) he made his excuses and left. No he didn't want to be escorted to school. Yes he was fine. Thank you for the sandwiches.
Had he not been so tired he would have ran to school, just to escape. He felt like he'd ran to school, what with the heavy breathing and beating heart. As soon as he reached the gates he headed for the bin, hastily stuffing the bag in before anyone would notice.
He always went to school early. It wasn't because he was waiting for friends. He didn't need friends...he told himself. No, he was fine with his family. It would be nice to have friends, he thought. Every now and then he'd have a small urge to talk to someone in his class. But then someone would make a comment on his hair, or his clothes, or his mother and he'd lose it. He'd start screaming at them, cursing, swearing. He'd provoke them into a fight. Say things that should never be said, prod their ego's until they threw the first punch. Let them hit him (he deserved that much) before hitting them. Never too hard, but hard enough. But hey. They started it.
No wonder his father thought he'd been in a fight. It wasn't an unusual occurrence.
So Ichigo pulled out a book and began to read. Alone. Sitting at his desk before even the teacher had arrived. The caretaker unlocked the doors before any one showed up, and the teachers knew he did this. Every morning. He barely noticed when the other kids began to file in.
"Hey berry head. You reading?"
You'd think they'd never take a hint. Ichigo looked up. He was not in the mood for this.
"No, I'm just staring at a book," he said, repeating a line he'd heard from somewhere. He always loved using dead pan sarcasm. It pissed them off more.
The stupid kid ripped the book from him.
"You're such a nerd," the kid said. Ichigo clenched his fist.
"Give it back," he said. There was a crowd round them now. Another fight. How amazing.
The kid moved the book back as he went to grab it.
"No," he said smugly. Ichigo clenched his teeth.
"Give my fucking book back," he said. There were a few collective gasps.
"You just swore," the kid said smirking.
"Shut-up," Ichigo said, taking another grab at his book.
"I'm telling" the kid said, the same stupid smug grin on his face. Ichigo saw red.
This time it was a different fight. It was so desperate it was...un-describable. All Ichigo knew was that he was tired, his head hurt and he wanted his book back. All he knew was that he was on top of the kid, punching him repeatedly in the face until his fists were bloody. All he knew was that he was pulled off and led out.
He was suspended for a week. He was under the watch of her while his father was at work. His father was annoyed at him. He knew that by the lack of joking in his direction, by the smile thrown his way being forced and tight. So he'd left him to be looked after by her.
The first day nothing happened. It was almost too quiet and Ichigo spent the entire day checking behind him.
The second day she grabbed his wrist. It was so unexpected he didn't know how to react. Lulled into a false sense of security from the day before he walked into the kitchen, barely a second thought when she lashed out. She merely held his wrist, squeezing it slightly, increasing the pressure until it was a painful pinch. Then releasing him. Like it was no big deal. This happened a lot. Her just grabbing him. His arm. His wrist. Each time holding not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to hurt. That was until the forth day.
He'd not been sleeping well since that day. His dreams were plagued with nightmares and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Ichigo wasn't stupid though. He knew what adults used when they were tired. They drank that coffee stuff. So he'd boiled himself a kettle and carefully poured some into the mug. He'd tried to take a sip, but it was too hot, so he'd waited until the steam had stopped pouring off it. It was disgusting. It made him want to gag at how rich the god awful stuff was. But he'd drank it all. Just to see if it was work. That was how Ichigo Kurosaki became addicted to caffeine.
On the fourth day he was coming down from the coffee he'd had that morning. He was tempted to make another one, but the woman was in the kitchen so that was a definite no. He'd gone in any way just to check, and saw her standing by the bench. He turned round fast, about to walk out...
"Berry head,"
He'd stopped to look at the woman. He grabbed his arm out of reflex and held it to him.
"I like that name. Berry head. Do you like it?" she asked. He did nothing, said nothing merely watched her as she stood by the chopping board, knife poised dangerously above the carrots she was about to cut. She turned, knife glinting slightly.
"No? How about strawberry?," she said. Ichigo remained silent, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from shouting. She was holding a knife and he wanted no risks.
"Come here strawberry," he wanted nothing more then to turn and run, but his body seemed to move on it's own and soon he was standing directly in front of her as she brought the knife down. He flinched, feeling his teeth dig sharply into his tongue.
"Your sisters are pretty you know strawberry," she said softly, still slicing the carrot. Ichigo said nothing.
"It's so strange to think that you're their brother," she said, the words brother spat out like venom. Ichigo could taste copper oozing out from where he bit his tongue. He ignored it.
"You look nothing like them you know," she continued, her hair covering her face. Ichigo's eyes never once left the knife.
"It's almost like...you're not their brother...like maybe you're not Isshin's son,"
"Shut-up," he barked.
Ichigo couldn't help it. The words flew from his mouth before he could think. What she was implying, that his mother had - had done that. It was insulting. It was wrong.
Safe to say he was fully expecting to be grabbed and shaken. He wasn't fully expecting to be shoved against the counter, his head coming into contact with the hard linoleum flooring. His ears rang as he twisted round painfuly to look at the woman who was watching her own hands. Ichigo could feel the blood run from his head, knew that he'd cut it on the fall down, likely from the sharp side of the counter. He watched, as it dribbled onto the floor, as the woman walked over to the chopping board and grabbed a carrot. Unwanted, uncalled for tears filled his eyes as his blurred vision took in the fact that she was ignoring him. Leaving him. He closed his eyes, the song she was humming echoing through his head.
He woke in his bed. His head was bandaged. It still hurt, ached, throbbed in fact, but he ignored it and attempted to sit up. The room span, and he had to resist the urge to grab his head. The door slamming open did nothin for his head ache, and he looked up with blurry eyes into the face of his father.
"Ichigo? Look at me Ichigo...Ayako told me how you slipped in the kitchen,"
His heart dropped. He could do nothing but nod and try to open his mouth. He felt himself enveloped in a hug and in his bleary state did nothing. He didn't hug back, but he didn't push away.
"Ichigo. Take these,"
Ichigo felt some tablets thrust into his hand. He opened his mouth.
"What are they?" he asked. His voice was croaky, and he felt like it hadn't been used in years. He felt his father ruffle his hair.
"They'll help with the pain," he said. Ichigo nodded and placed them in his mouth, downing the water he was given. He heard a chuckle.
"Really Ichigo though...running on wet floor. I thought you'd be more sensible,"
The sinking feeling returned.
I can hurt your sisters.
He shrugged, wincing at the jarring which occurred in his neck. He felt his father help him lie down, guiding him to his pillow.
"You need to thank her when your feeling better. She found you and bandaged you," he said softly. Ichigo bit his tongue (a habit which was being used more and more). He nodded.
He thanked god that his father kept serious until he'd shut the door. As soon as the door was closed 'Daughters!' filled his ears as his father was once more, an idiot. It was his coping method though so who was he to knock it. Since his mother died he'd started acting the clown, the idiot, mostly to cheer his daughters up. Ichigo knew that he was doing it to mask his real feelings, and he knew it wasn't healthy, but what else could his father do?
Ichigo was deemed healthy enough to venture from his bed two days after the 'accident'. His father had the day off and had decided it would be an amazing idea to invite that woman round so Ichigo could 'formally thank her'. Ichigo would much rather formally scratch her. Hit her. Kick her. Hurt her.
So that was how he found himself, head bowed, hands clenched, his fathers hand on his shoulder.
"Thankyou," he said, praying that it sounded slightly sincere. He heard a tinkling laugh from above him and flinched as stubby fingers ruffled his hair. No one seemed to noticed though. To make matters worse she leaned down, actually leaned down so her face was looming inches away from his. He looked everywhere but at her eyes, his eyes darting to the floor, the walls, anything but her face.
"That's alright. Just be more careful next time Ichi" she said cheerfully. Ichigo ignored her, even as she stepped back and stood upright. Ichi. Since when did she have any right to call him 'Ichi'. Only one person had ever called him that, and that was how he'd like it to remain.
"Well done son," Ichigo felt his hair ruffled yet again by his father this time. It was a habit he was beginning to detest. His father began to laugh slightly, and that woman joined in. Was there some joke that Ichigo had missed? The bonding moment between the two made him sick.
"Ayako, now that you're here, why don't you stay for tea? I'm sure the girls will love you to join us," Ichigo was glad that he wasn't mentioned in that last sentence. But at the same time he felt sick at the thoughts of her eating in his home with his sisters. And the fact that his sisters loved her made it all that much worse. Well Yuzu definitely did, but Karin hadn't openly objected which was a sign she didn't really mind the person. He edged towards the door.
"I'm going to bed," he announced, looking at his father and only his father. As far as he was concerned there was no one else in the room (so he kept trying to convince himself).
"Are you okay?" his father had his serious face on and had immediately stepped forward, his hand on Ichigos forehead. Ichigo slapped it off.
"I'm fine! I'm just tired," he said. The goofy face was back on and Ichigo took it as his cue to leave.
He slammed his bedroom door closed wishing it had a lock, praying that if he slammed it enough times, a lock would appear. At the same time he hated locks. They locked people in. But right now he wanted to lock people out. He wanted to be sure no one would enter his room. But at the same time he wanted to be able to leave it.
His hands fisted in his bright hair, his eyes screwed shut, small sounds of despair escaping from his tightly closed lips in small hiccups. He hated it. He didn't know what 'it' was, only that he hated it.
He looked up, inadvertently catching sight of his reflection in the mirror of his wardrobe. The door was open, the mirror angled in such a way that Ichigo could see everything about him. His eyes that were red. His dry lips. His arms. His pathetic weak arms. He lifted one up experimentally tensing it. There was no change. It was weak, thin, disgusting.
He couldn't help it. He lifted his shirt, eyeing his ribs poking thought skin. His weak stomach. Pathetic. He poked it. It was soft. He dropped his shirt angrily and slammed his wardrobe shut relishing in the sharp thud in produced.
This was why this was happening. He was too weak. If he wasn't so fucking weak he could have shoved her back. Done something. It was because he was weak. He needed to become stronger. Strong so he could say what had really happened. Strong enough to protect his sisters. And he needed to start now.
That was the day Ichigo Kurosaki became addicted to exercise. He'd lie on the carpet of his bedroom, pushing his body off the ground until it hurt. Until it ached. Until he wanted to cry. And even then he'd carry on. He gave up on counting. No number was high enough. Each number was weak. So he did it until he physically couldn't do it anymore. Until he could barely make it back to bed. Sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he'd just lie, unable to move his protesting muscles. And he'd relish in the feeling.
The feeling of getting stronger.
"Did you Ichigo?"
Ichigo of the present closed his eyes. He could almost feel his muscles aching as he thought back to the grueling torture he'd forced himself though.
"Did I what?"
"Get stronger?"
Silence.
"Well that's a matter of opinion. I'd say no,"
"And why is that?"
"Because I still couldn't stop her,"
The only sound heard was the sound of pen scribbling hurriedly on paper.
"How long did she hurt you,"
There was no answer.
"What changed?"
Aizen continued to question, ignoring the lack of answer from the last. The silence lingered for a few seconds before Ichigo heard himself answer.
"I met Hichigo,"
That name. That name. He hadn't heard it in years.
"Ichigo, you do know..."
"Can I go now. I told you about it. Can I go,"
"Of course Ichigo. I'll just turn off the tape,"
The tape ended and Ichigo reached over to press the stop button. It was around this time that he realised that he could no longer feel his hand, the hold that Grimmjow had on it reaching a painful stage. He reached over and placed his hand over Grimmjow's offending one. It seemed to jolt him out of whatever trance he was in and he released his hold.
"Shit," he said, looking at his hand like it didn't belong to him. Ichigo got a sense of De ja vu, the situation seeming similar to the last time (minus the throbbing hand).
"Sorry," Grimmjow muttered gruffly, so quiet Ichigo had to strain to hear it.
"It's okay," he said flexing his hand. Some of the feeling was now returning. Grimmjow grabbed it and began to awkwardly rub it, helping in his own unhelpful way. Ichigo would have smiled had the memories not been fresh in his mind.
"Ichigo," he heard his boyfriend ask, still not releasing his hand, how just holding it almost tenderly (although he'd never admit it).
"Yeah?" he replied quietly. It didn't seem right to speak at normal level just yet.
"Is she dead?" Grimmjow asked. Ichigo raised his eyebrow.
"Yeah. He said on the first tape," Ichigo said, referring to Aizen. Grimmjow nodded.
"Wanted to make sure," he said. Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows.
"Why?" he asked. Grimmjow turned to look at him, his eyes steely and hard. Had the anger been directed at Ichigo he would have panicked. He'd never seen such an intense look of hatred on the other man's face.
"Because...," he started as if wondering how to phrase it "is she did so 'appen to be alive, I would kill her,"
Ichigo swallowed. The way Grimmjow said the last sentence made it fully clear that he would actually kill her. There was no exaggeration, the look on his boyfriend's face told him that he would actually go out and kill the woman (in a horribly violent way judging from the slightly homicidal facial expression).
"Well she's dead," he said with finality. He could have sworn he heard Grimmjow mutter 'lucky for her', before he found himself pulled back and held albeit rather stiffly by his boyfriend. He noticed that Grimmjow was hastily running his fingers through his hair with one hand, the other hand wrapped tightly around Ichigo's slim torso.
"You...er...ya don't mind me callin' ye Ichi do ya?" Ichigo noticed his boyfriend's speech drop the grammar even more so then usual, another sign he was particularly pissed of or upset. Ichigo thought about the question.
"No...I like it" he said truthfully, trying to fight down the small blush that had decided to appear. He saw the cogs turning in his boyfriends head as he thought how to phrase the next question.
"Yer not weak..ya know that don't ya?" Grimmjow asked, looking intently at him. Ichigo avoided eye contact out of habit rather then anything. He shrugged.
"Yeah, I guess," he said. He could always be stronger but he wasn't as weak as he had been. He knew Grimmjow was unhappy with the vague answer, and was grateful when he dropped it.
"Do you wanna watch the game?"
Ichigo was relieved and even more grateful. He knew his boyfriend was wound tighter then a coiled spring, knew he must have been aching to ask questions, to scream, to do something. He wasn't a very patient man that Grimmjow. And yet he was acting like everything was normal. Just for him. For Ichigo.
Even though he was still reeling slightly from the tape (it was past, but that didn't change the fact it had all been real, it had all happened past or not...you can't just walk away from that) Ichigo couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face and in a surprisingly womanly gesture he leaned up, pressing his lips softly to his boyfriends neck. It was worth it just for the look on the other man's face, but he knew it was the best way to convey it. To convey his thanks...
tbc.
Please review. Was it okay? Just a simple 'yes' or 'no' will suffice...[although I'd love you if you told me why...? ¬.¬ ]
OhmiLord that took me ages ^^ Okay Important notices here (well important to me...maybe you too?)
Firstly, this chapter WOULD have been betad by 'The Holyest Of Crap' [great name btw]...but I have no clue how to use the betaing system or how to send this chapter across to be edited....so if anyone would kindly point out to the technophobe here how it's done...and if The Holyest Of Crap wouldn't mind being my beta? Thanks again for offering ^^ It's okay if you're too busy though, I won't be offended XD
Okay...this may not be updated for a while because my finals are coming up and I will be spending my life revising stuff I will never use once I step out of the exam hall [seriously, we're not being taught to learn we're being taught to pass exams...it pisses me off to be frank]. Just giving you heads up.
woot, Hichigo next chapter :) (though it may not be up in a while...)