"Rukia… I am having the driver drop me off at the front entrance..." Byakuya had to pull the cell phone away from his ear for a moment, "… What is that atrocious noise in the background?"
"Ahh, sorry Nii-sama! I'm watching an ice carving demonstration! It's a chain saw!" Rukia responded, raising her voice to be heard over the ruckus.
Had the wealthy CEO been any less of a control freak in verbal restraint, his comeback would have been along the lines of a 'what the fu--?'… instead, he steered his thoughts into a silent rebuke of 'what classified as art' these days.
Unable to stand the roaring buzz; Byakuya hung up on her. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd be able to find Rukia quite easily.
He strode into the Convention Center; a large, ultra-modern, open air auditorium-like building. The entire ceiling area was made up of large panels of pale blue colored glass, fitted amongst cylindrical metal beams. It allowed the sunlight to play and dance, illuminating the floor and walls with rainbow prisms and bright natural light. It was a state-of-the-art facility that merged technology and aesthetics seamlessly.
Even though the area was packed with thousands of people, it appeared less crowded by its open design; and the detached heir, who despised being crowded, uncharacteristically didn't feel the urge to retreat back into the sanctum that was his quiet office.
The Art Exhibition area was off to the left; and being alone for one of a handful of times since his arrival in America, Byakuya took advantage of his unaccompanied status and opted for a leisurely stroll towards the exposition.
As he indulged his anonymity sans bodyguards or personal assistants; he became vaguely aware of eyes staring at him, which he chose to ignore… he was used to it by now. He thought that perhaps, his dark navy business Armani suit and ivory silk dress shirt with a barely there navy pinstripe, and his soft black leather boots were probably a little out of place in an auditorium full of more casually dressed 'artsy types'. What he didn't realize, was that most stared at him for the blatant fact that his exotic good looks and elegant disposition clearly marked him as someone... different… exceptional.
The main exhibition was actually one floor below this entry level. With the set-up of the open auditorium, he was able to position himself at the railing on the second floor and observe everyone on the base level. Byakuya always found it was fairly easy to find his sister; he simply looked for her bodyguard instead. Kurosaki's shock of orange hair always caught his eye.
But not today.
As astute, intelligent eyes scanned the floor below, a bright flash of crimson captured his practical gaze instead. It was attached to the head of a very tall, very well-built young man. One that was wielding a chain saw.
The fact that it was the man's hair that had caught his attention, made Byakuya take special interest. Although he didn't like to admit it (at least not out loud); the introverted heir and a… thing… for hair. He loved to touch it... run his hands through it… pull it. A furtive smirk lifted one edge of his mouth, as he admired the colorful mane from afar.
The artist had his hair pulled up into a high pony tail; a wrap of sorts covered most of his head, including his forehead. He deftly maneuvered the mechanical device, biting into the solid block of ice in assured strokes; sending plumes of delicate ice shards into the air. The frozen splinters captured the sunlight streaming in from above; and each flake individually shimmered, reflecting all colors and yet none. It was a captivating display, as the after effect of liquid sunlight rained down upon the vibrant redhead; especially for the visually inclined CEO, who seemed more enthralled by the effect on the man than the effect of the sun.
He observed, as he suspected all the other spectators did, the confident caressing of ice with steel; the hard muscles of the upper arms bunching and undulating as they lifted the onerous weight of the mechanical saw easily and assertively. There was no hesitation in movement… it was apparent that the artist already knew what he was shaping from the ice; lines flowing freely…
From where he stood, the buzz of the saw was just a loud purr. Byakuya couldn't perceive the artist's eyes from this distance, shielded and reflected by the plastic safety glasses; but he could see the determined set of the man's jaw, the brows furrowed a bit in concentration. He could definitely make out the jagged lines that moved down his throat and the geometric pattern of tattoos that wrapped around his biceps and snuck in under the short sleeves of his black tee-shirt up towards his broad shoulders.
A nice display indeed.
Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away from the redhead, to scan the onlookers for the other redhead… and soon found him off to the left side in the crowd. Directly in front of him was Rukia, enjoying the demonstration. Byakuya watched as she tipped her head back to say something to Ichigo, and he in turn leaned forward to hear her, putting his ear mere breadths away from Rukia's mouth. He smiled at what she said, and turned to say something back into her ear. The intimacy of the situation would slightly perturb the surveilling CEO if he hadn't already known Ichigo preferred the company of the other sex, off hours. It was a very… gratifying… feeling to know he didn't need to worry about Rukia's bodyguard getting too close and personal to his charge… Byakuya knew she was well protected in both regards.
As if almost by instinct, Byakuya saw Ichigo stiffen and turn towards him, realizing they were being watched. It reinforced Byakuya's estimation of Kurosaki's abilities; that he could feel the weight of the heir's gaze from such a distance. He had to admit, albeit silently to himself; the guy was good.
He watched as Ichigo pointed him out to Rukia, who then turned towards him and smiled and gave him a big wave. Byakuya acknowledged her with a nod. The Kuchiki did not wave to people. Ever. The CEO turned and started to make his way down towards his sister, but did so casually and stopped at a few displays along the way. He could still hear the buzz of the chain saw, and found no reason to get closer to that sound. Needless to say, he took the long way around.
At the far end, opposite to the demonstration, a sculpture caught his eye. It was a large… sakura tree, probably three feet tall, and just as wide. It was wrought faithfully; a large sturdy marled trunk, branching up into a canopy of leaves and blossoms. The entire ceramic piece was glazed in a barely shimmering pale pink, the blossoms were an iridescent white with pink shading. The leaves seemed to have been fastened to the structure, but the blossoms weren't. The mere vibrations of the spectators walking past it allowed the petals to shimmer and sway; almost making the tree appear alive.
Byakuya walked up to the tree, captivated by its refined appearance and delicate beauty. There was talent behind the hands that formed this piece.
He looked around to locate the artist attached to this sculpture. Cool grey eyes landed on a man that seemed to be in charge of the display area; he was talking to another potential client, discussing the aspects of a painting hanging on an adjacent wall. The aloof heir vaguely picked up bits and pieces of the conversation beside him. Although the pair were talking about the materials used in the painting, he did not hear anything regarding the motivation behind the piece being discussed.
Interesting… he mused. And here he thought all artists liked to go off ad nauseum about their 'inspiration'.
The patient CEO waited for their conversation to end; turning back to admire the piece. The blossom petals were thin and delicate; attached to each other individually, then to the branch with a razor thin transparent wire. Each blossom had been affixed independently, so the entire sculpture must have taken quite a bit of time. He reached out to run his slender fingers down the trunk of the tree, appreciating the cold touch of fine ceramic beneath his fingertips.
"Beautiful, ain't it?"
Byakuya looked over to his left, where the man he had seen previously now stood, off to his side, a step behind him. He was a brunette with light scars running down his face. His quiet voice seemed somehow contradictory to the fierceness of his appearance.
"Indeed," the finicky CEO concurred. "Is this your creation?"
Shuhei responded with a friendly smile and a slight shake to his head. "No, this stuff belongs to my roommate. I'm just watching over his display while he's out doing a demo."
"I see. I have never attended one of these functions, previously." Byakuya stated, as he turned toward the curiously tattooed younger man, "Tell me, are these pieces for sale, or only to display?"
"Abarai's pieces are always for sale," Shuhei returned good-naturedly, "You interested in that one?"
"Yes. I would like to purchase it." Byakuya hesitated, considering something for a moment, "…Would you be able to hold if for me? I will arrange to have someone pick it up later."
"Sure… uh, don't you wanna know how much it costs?"
"It does not matter. Thank you for your time."
Byakuya continued along the displays; brightly colored hand blown glass vases, fine ceramic sculpture, paintings of scene scapes, abstracts, portraits… there was virtually every type of artistic creation in the arena.
And there was even food... as he turned the corner, there was a large spread of petite hors d'oeuvres-- puffy pastry, chocolate and fruit. Glazed blueberries and strawberries accentuated the creamy deserts, orange segments and peach slices ribboned in milk chocolate decorated elaborately sugared cookies and soft tartlets. An exuberant young woman welcomed the bystanders who sampled the treats.
Her eyes lit up as she saw someone approaching. Following her line of sight, Byakuya was surprised to see the ice carver wheeling up an elegantly icy swan. The bird was carved in an upward sweep; its long neck and head were tipped up to the sky, breast thrust forward, wings angled back… as if the bird were in the midst of taking flight. It was an excellent rendition of frozen motion.
He couldn't hear what was being said, but judging from the giddy response (and the neck breaking hug) that the bosomy girl bestowed upon the redhead, she was thrilled with his gift. She proceeded to thank him profusely… and picked up a tray hiding beneath one of the tablecloths.
It looked like a dumpling of sorts, and Byakuya was sure he saw a flash of fear in the redhead's eyes as the 'treat' was unceremoniously pushed into his mouth. After a couple of chews, however, a wide grin broke out on the charismatic face. For the second time in the span of less than half an hour, the intrigued CEO had to forcibly remove his eyes off the man.
It was impolite to stare.
At a stranger's mouth.
Byakuya turned to peruse the sights further, heading in the general direction his sister would emerge from. More sooner than later, he saw Rukia and Kurosaki approaching.
"Nii-sama!" Rukia smiled as she walked up to him, "I'm so glad you're here!"
Renji chewed enthusiastically on the sweet pastry. It always caught him off guard when Orihime would just stuff food in his mouth...
Early in her culinary endeavors, he remembered the few times it had been really awful pastry filled with leeks and sweet bean paste... that he couldn't bear to swallow, but did, so as not to hurt her feelings. Nowadays though, her talent really excelled and everything was really quite tasty. Unfortunately it was still like a Pavlov's reaction with him; he couldn't help but have those first moments of utter fear whenever she shoved something at him to eat.
Additionally, he hoped she'd eventually stop with the energetic orifice stuffing... it really freaked him out.
"This one's pretty yummy, Orihime!" he complimented. Renji had stopped asking what was in the stuff she fed him. Really, he didn't want to know. "But I gotta get back to my display... I got Shu keeping the place for me, and I don't wanna leave him hanging... ya know?"
"Sure thing, Renji... and thanks for the beautiful swan!" she gushed.
He waved to her and turned... and noticed for the second time that day, a striking brunette in a well tailored suit milling through the crowd.
He was gorgeous... okay, well... let's not go that far, okay, Abarai? He was... cute? No. He was... sexy as all get out? Yeah. That was it. This guy was fucking sex on legs. Pretty 'metro' guys didn't even register a blip on Renji's radar screen… but this one… The redhead had never, ever, noticed another man before. But in this instance, he would have to be blind and stupid to miss this guy.
And then he disappeared into the crowd again.
The platinum Rolex on his wrist clearly showed him that his hour was nearly up. Byakuya wasn't disappointed that he had come to spend time with his sister. It had actually been... pleasant.
"I need to head back to the office, Rukia."
"I understand, Nii-sama." Rukia glanced around, looking for her childhood friend; but was unable to catch any sight of him. "There was someone I wanted you to meet, but I haven't seen him since we left the demo." She started to explain, "we were best friends in grade school when I lived here; and I happened to run into him again a few weeks ago." She didn't feel the need to go into detail that it was in a bar… Frustration furrowed her brow, as she craned her neck to find the redhead, "ohh, I can't believe he's not here!"
The afternoon hour had passed effortlessly, not encumbered by the usual awkwardness that so often accompanied his time with Rukia. He would later blame it on serendipity, that caused his brief flash of guilt for not knowing more of who his adopted sister was. Or why said guilt led him to offer... but the elder Kuchiki did so anyways.
"Due to re-arranging my schedule to be here today, I will most likely finish up my work early this evening. Why not invite your friend over for dinner... say around 7:30pm? I would very much like to meet your acquaintances Rukia, a childhood friend sounds...nice..."
"That would be wonderful, Nii-sama!"
"You are welcome to join us, Kurosaki."
"I'll pass tonight, Byakuya..." a ghost of a smile hovered over his lips, as his eyes searched the crowd for a lanky brunette, "I think I can come up with plans of my own for the night."
"Very well. Dinner at the penthouse. I will inform the cook to plan for three."
Renji looked down at his watch again. 5:23pm. Was Shuhei pulling his leg? He was going to punch the fuck out of him if he was… telling him some guy came by and wanted to purchase his sakura tree. No name, just a description… 'dark hair, a good looking guy' -- He said to hold it for him, and he'd come back to pick it up…
Well, the exhibition closed a little over 20 minutes ago; and Renji had already packed up what was left of his art and put it in Orihime's van. Now, he was just hanging around… waiting...
His mind wandering back to the dark haired stranger he had seen earlier that afternoon. The guy had an ice-cold, no nonsense, take-control kind of aura about him... and Renji had to admit it, it kinda pushed all sorts of newly unearthed buttons for him. And that hair… and the flawless skin… fuck, I am a fruitcake...
Shaking himself out of reverie, Renji watched as a young man, slender and harried, approached Orihime and seemed to ask for directions. She looked around and spotted him, then smiled at the young man and pointed him in Renji's direction.
Ah, his buyer. Finally.
"Excuse me for being late, Abarai-san," the young man began in apology, walking up to the brawny artist, "the traffic was busier than I had anticipated."
"Don't worry about it." Renji replied standing up, "but, uh... you brought something to carry this with, right?" Abarai compared the size of the crate he boxed up his sculpture with, with the slim build and diminutive size of his buyer. There was no way this guy would be carrying his art anywhere.
"Oh..." the boy looked at the crate and scratched his head, " uh... gee... I didn't realize it would be packed so large. Is that it?"
"Yeah."
"Oh." The guy looked doubtful, "I'll manage somehow." He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, and dialed a number. "Hi.. um, this is Rikichi.. I need someone sent over to the convention center to help me bring back a crate... yes... yes... well, no I didn't bring anything with me to carry it back with..." the young man winced into the phone, pulling it away from his ear for a second, "...well, what about Madarame?... no? ... um, Ayasegawa?... who's going to ask him?... well, can't you?... oh.." his face fell, the poor guy looked a little dejected. "Yes, I guess I can wait here. Forty five minutes?... okay." He hung up the phone and smiled awkwardly at Renji.
"I guess I'll wait for help to arrive. Thanks for waiting for me to get here." Rikichi reached into a breast pocket and pulled out a check. "Do you take checks, Abarai-san?"
"Sure, is it from a local bank?"
"Yes it is." Rikichi pulled out a pen, "What do I make it out for?"
Renji gave the thought a once-over, "How about 12K, and I help you take it to your car... then you won't have to wait for help."
Rikichi looked up at him as if he were the best thing next to sliced bread. "Oh! Thank you so much Abarai-san!"
Renji chuffed; he was already starting to like this guy… in a big brother sort of way. "No sweat, really… and call me Renji."
"It was so nice of you to help me, Renji-san."
"It's the least I could do. No big deal… seriously, stop thanking me." Renji sighed, although he said that last part with a chuckle so Rikichi wouldn't take it the wrong way.
Renji had first offered to carry the crate to the car. After putting it into the trunk of the town car, they both realized that Rikichi probably wouldn't be able to carry it to wherever its final destination was either. So, Renji offered his services. Again. The redhead really was just a nice guy that liked to help anyone out, if he could. He looked rough; probably sounded that way too. But deep down inside, the sculptor was as friendly and loyal as a domesticated mutt.
Needless to say, that left them both here in the elevator, heading up to the penthouse.
The elevator chimed softly and gave a soft bump as it reached its destination. Rearranging the crate on his right shoulder, Renji ducked down a bit to get out and waited for Rikichi to lead the way. The young man quickly walked up to one of two available doors in the short hallway and swiped his electronic key through the lock. A soft click and swish later, and Renji was led into the grand foyer of the penthouse apartments.
His long arms and well corded muscles flexed as he hoisted the crate off his shoulder and placed it gently on the marbled floor.
Rikichi bowed and gratefully reached out to shake his hand again, "Thank you so much, Renji-san! You really helped me out!" The grin on the young man's face was wide enough to break something.
The redhead took a quick look at the fabulous accommodations from the limited view he had in the foyer. The penthouse was in an upper echelon of lavishness Renji had never seen before. It spoke of wealth and luxury… an affluence and opulence almost unbelievable to the layman.
"Wow, Rikichi… you live here?" after the words came out of his mouth Renji felt a little guilty; he hadn't meant for it to sound so disbelieving.
Don't judge a book by it's cover, Abarai.
"Uh… hey um… let me unpack this for you," the redhead offered, trying to make up for his faux pas. Renji reached into his back pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. He flipped open the four inch blade and went to work prying loose the staples he used to close the crate.
Rikichi continued to talk, filling the quiet space with the sounds of energetic apologies... again... for all the trouble Renji had put himself through to help him out… again… and oh!... that the car would take him home whenever he was ready... and finally, "Oh no! I don't live here. My employer does." Rikichi laughed, "Although I'm flattered you think I can afford all this!"
The quiet clip of footsteps echoed around the corner...
Employer?…
"Rikichi," a deep velvety voice intoned, "is someone here with you?"
Renji froze.
He knew that voice. He had just spoken with that voice... last night...
He turned around slowly, and straightened. It felt like he was in one of those weird moments, when people say time slows down to a crawl... waiting… for the body attached to that voice to appear. Rounding the corner, that man from the exhibition came into view.
A waterfall of silky black hair, deep silver eyes, pristine flawless skin... holy fuck... was this the one and same person?! Renji's heart thumped heavily in his chest. For a brief moment, the only sound he heard was the rush of blood pounding in his ears.
"Kuchiki-sama," Rikichi bowed low to his employer, "I had some trouble at the exhibition, and Abarai-san was nice enough to help me."
The billionaire CEO instantly recognized the other man in the foyer. It was the ice carver from earlier in the day. Was he the same artist who sculpted this sakura tree?
Up close and personal, the man was stunning. Tall, broad and muscular... red hair ablaze under the soft lighting... Now that the discerning heir was much closer, he noted that the sculptor's eyes were a mesmerizing amber… the worldly heir had never seen a man as strikingly masculine as the one standing before him.
No matter how caught off guard he was internally, however, Byakuya's facial expression never wavered externally... a cool air of haughty calm greeted the surprised artist. The aloof heir was always a stickler for polite manners and proper etiquette; and without breaking stride he walked up to the redhead, hand out in a no-nonsense introduction, "Kuchiki Byakuya."
And there it was.
Byakuya...
It took Renji a moment to compose himself... half shocked at not only finding out who the man from the exhibition was; but the fact that this very same man was Byakuya. If the redhead had not been a man of great fortitude, he'd have guessed he would have swooned by now.
Instead, he graced his new patron with a devastatingly handsome smile; Renji felt like the cat that just got told his owner bought the cream factory… next door.
He reached out to finally touch the man attached to the amazingly sensual voice he had been conversing with for the last several weeks; discussing intimate details of where exactly he wanted to place his hands... his teeth... his tongue. Grasping the other's hand in a warm, sure grip, it was as if electricity arced between their palms as they touched.
He introduced himself in the man's own custom, registering the surprise in the other's eyes as the words began to flow from his mouth-- "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Byakuya. My name is Abarai. Abarai Renji."
...and then, the phone in his pants pocket began to vibrate....