[AliCe InChains]

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

[A Little Bit Of What You Fancy]


She could recall, often in startling detail, often in a blurred mix of images and sound- from the way the sun had set, the way the funny little blue caps (they were shaped like cheezits to her) had been thrown- up, up and away! She had never found hers no matter how hard she had searched the battlefield after the stampede- the crowd, the rush, the hugs, the kisses, the promises, from the 'Don't forget me!' to the 'Be sure to call!' and the 'Take care of yourself!' and the ever unforgettable- 'I hope you never change!'

The pats on the back, the kind that made your chest ache and your breath go 'whoosh' like a ballon half blown and suddenly let loose- the sheepish grins, the smiles, the smiles- until her jaw had ached. Throwing off the heavy robe- the boisterous roar of the crowd of suddenly free teenagers- on that amazingly new threshold of power somewhere between 'almost there' and full fledged adults. That night- if she could have likened the feeling to anything it was this- she felt like a god. That night, she was invincible. They didn't want her to change, but change she would- because they didn't know, never had- how much being the same hurt her, staying the same, like stagnant water in a puddle, watching them blossom and grow.

Why couldn't she? Why couldn't she?

The crew in its entirety- the princess, the prince, the lady night, the wizard, the castle guard- decked out in full display- what now? The possibilities! Endless! She could've flown to the moon that night, flew over that crescent moon that night, jumped over it like the cow, run away with the spoon! What to do? Such freedom! It was a night, it was an air that would never come again, never happen again. They'd all gotten accepted into the same university- college freshmen whoo! They were unstoppable! They ruled the city that night-

And then-

In the dark, the two unsuspecting groups accidentally collided- and she remembered that blue hair, that fierce mocking grin- the hard push that sent her sprawling to the ground, and then- Ichigo was up in arms- apologize! What? It had been her fault- she didn't look- she hadn't been paying attention-

And then came the curses- she remembered that oil slick smile and those narrow eyes- unabashedly burning a trail up the length of her legs- a snicker, a lust filled retort- and then came the threats- the crack of knuckles-out of nowhere the mammoth emerged, spitting idiotic promises to back up his comrades- the heated insult the final straw. The battle was on.

She remembered, all too vividly- the sound of flesh compounding on threats- fists thrown, kicks, curses- it was nothing short of an all out brawl- she remembered Tatsuki, dragging her to her feet, pushing her away- stumble stumble- it was getting uglier by the second she had to leave-

-leave?

-And she fell heavily against the alley wall, eyes squeezed shut, hands clamped over her ears to block out the sound of war-

-Because she didn't know how to fight, she didn't know how to curse or glare, to make threats and make good on them- because she was pretty and popular and kind hearted, because she was eye candy and needed to go while the big kids were talking, because-

"I have never seen such a lamentable sight."

-and the words cut her like a knife, to the heart of her- cut her in a place already covered with self inflicted wounds. She jumped, dropped the limps hands to her sides, raised the ever widening eyes, parted the quivering lips.

-And what a lamentable sight she must've been- her mascara running, bruised knees visible from under her skirt, angry and splotching from her contact with the pavement- skinned palms- her carefully done hair that she had slaved over, to feel that for once in her life she had control over something- had fallen into a sloppy mess. She'd dirtied her favorite shirt when she'd fallen, and torn the edge of her skirt- and she was sniveling and crying because she didn't know what to do- they were fighting to the death over something so trivial, and she didn't know what to do- and she looked up at him, imploring him, beseeching him earnestly- the tall green eyed stranger- for guidance for-

She could barely find the words, could barely manage to utter the pathetic words.

"P-P-Please I-"

And he stared at her with such contempt- such contempt in those green eyes! Such contempt, such bridled disgust- that it burned her with something far too humiliating to be shame and the words vanished. She swallowed- it lodged in her throat- as those carefully contained strides brought him closer to her. And the light from the dim streetlamp bathed him in a mix of watery light and shadow, and those green eyes seemed lit from within- and she felt the shiver, felt the prominent aura of something wafting from him- something that made everything within her tremble- the very effort to hold her eyes to his was suddenly momentous.

And those black lips parted again and-

"There is no point in investing even the slightest effort to help such trash."

And he walked by and left her there, her hand still outstretched in the empty air. Like kittens on a doorstep, trash on a curb. Left her there. Like babies in a basket at the church. He had seen her distress, seen her despair- and left her to wallow in it.

The cruelty- the cold, calculated cruelty of the act stunned her. Never- never!- had anyone-

And she listened to those footsteps fade away from her. Listened to the cold echo of them reverberating into the distance-

And she fell to her knees- she could remember the bitter cold of the pavement beneath her- the gravel biting against the torn flesh of her palms and knees. And she recalled a peculiar feeling boiling inside of her- a feeling so foreign, a feeling she had never felt before in a single moment since she had been born.

And if she had ever wished ill of a single human being in the entirety of her life, it was then.

And then she was able to name the feeling.

Hate.


She was scared to open her eyes.

She kept them closed tight, as fiercely as she could- so that she could almost feel her face scrunching with the momentous effort it took to keep her eyelids screwed together. She was lying down- and whatever her hands were resting on, she had clenched with such a tight death grip that she was positive her knuckles were white from the effort.

She was sure of one or two things.

Either all of that had been one mixed up dream from her lack-of-sleep-and-banana-mint-oreos-for-breakfast-induced nightmare- or (the extreme-say-your-prayers-close-your-eyes-and-hope-its-over-soon) kind of reality that led to her awakening to a room full of a strange assortment of characters, blue haired to green eyed, who would then proceed to beat the living snot out of her until she couldn't so much as sneeze without begging for mercy, much less tell anyone much of anything. Or even a third one- she'd seen a movie last night where I guy had woken up in bed and found a horse head under his covers. Although she was certain that for her it would be infinitely more horrifying, like the headless body of her favorite night time snuggle bear from childhood.

The room was eerily silent- the calm before the storm. See? This was why teenagers should write wills for real after seeing a particularly horrible tear jerker lifetime movie tragedy that made her realize that upon her untimely death by cancer or what have you, at least her private stuffed animal collections would be taken care of. Now- there was no time to handle it all! She was screwed. All of her most favorite things-would probably be ripped straight from her room and into an open blaze in a ditch-

-and she knew she was letting her mind wander to avoid reality, because daydreaming was the easiest thing to do-

-and she knew he was in the room, instinctively knew by the way she could feel her blood stir to life- and the heat was on her face. And she thought about folding her hands over her chest and pursing her lips like Sleeping Beauty, waiting to be restored to life by the kiss of her one true love, and then he would whisk her away into far, far away land and they would live happily ever after.

But of course she was only kidding herself.

She would feel those fangs pressing persistently against her lips- and her eyes would flutter open- because stupid, she had intentionally told Prince Charming the wrong castle and The Dragon had come- well technically he hadn't because he lived here, this was his almighty castle of doom, and stupid princess that she was, she had screwed the prince, lifted her skirts and run straight into the evil lair. She had fought through the thorns, fought her way blindly through the swamp, choked on the noxious fumes, the smell of sulfur and brimstone- dodged the hell fire- but surprise! Here she was- a tattered mess on the other side.

And there was the beast, beautiful and deadly and furious- because here was a mortal, a foolish mortal- and what else could bring her here? She had surely come to vanquish him! But here she was- sword less, armor less, defenseless and weak- coming forward with her arms open and her smile wide- and maybe he would even eat her. Gobble her up, swallow her whole, eat her alive.

And even that was fine. As long as it was him- she didn't mind being eaten.

She wondered what he thought of her now. Wondered if he even thought of her at all. Wondered if even once before, after, her name had crossed his lips. She wondered, wondered, wondered. She wondered if this was how it was supposed to be- this wasn't exactly a movie perfect magical "first" love. Heck if she was being honest, this probably wasn't even a great one. She didn't know who was stranger- him or her- probably her, since she was the one being the semi-psycho stalker, breaking into his house and everything. Especially since he had never even given her a sign, never even given her so much as a passing glance…

But if she thought like that, it made her uncharacteristically depressed- well, thinking about him, about her, them, always made her uncharacteristically depressed. Or maybe she had always been this way, secretly at the heart of her, and just didn't realize it until she met him. It was like when she lost the first tooth- jiggle jiggle with her tongue until it popped clean out- the surprise, feeling the open wound- the barely contained shudder that she got whenever she found herself prying the suddenly open crevice. It was an unpleasant, awful feeling- prying that single spot- but like she was somehow magnetically drawn to it, she kept doing it. Even though she hated that shudder, that 'well shoot that's just weird' feeling she always got after.

In some weird, strange, nonsensical way that she couldn't exactly put together yet, that was exactly what was going on here. The way her friends had previously made her feel had been the tooth- maybe? Like a foundation kind of? Well yeah that could work-…and then- wait. It would be kind of weird for him to be the tongue in this equation (and it could probably be considered a particularly nasty and uncomfortable one to a lot of people) but maybe that's what he had been without being anything- prying and prying and eventually unearthing everything she'd known to reveal that empty hole (and there was so many ways this thought train could go horribly wrong) but even then, still prying, prying-

She rolled over, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the pit of her belly. Thinking of holes and tongues and him all together in one thinking span was not only hazardous to her health, but her sanity. But the room was dead silent and she idly wondered-

"…and yet you still feign sleep?"

Well that answered her question.

He knew she was up. He had probably known she was up before she had even known she was up. She considered laying there quietly, drawing slow steady breaths, closing her eyes, murmuring under her breath- he would probably leave if she mumbled his name. Or in the worst case scenario, he wouldn't. Stride over and grab her-

-with more effort than she thought the act would require, she stopped her mind from going off on that dangerous and health endangering tangent.

Before she could hesitate or doubt or wonder what the heck she was supposed to do now- she sat up so quickly it made her head spin, feeling her hair whip around her shoulders from the sudden action.

She thought that maybe by the time her anxious eyes had landed on him, standing against the wall in front of her with his hands shoved into his pocket, she would have been able to come up with something witty to say. But her eyes landed on him and they all dried up in her brain- if there had even been any in the first place.

She had been placed in one of the back rooms of the infirmary, a small room with a bed, a counter and cabinet loaded with medical supplies, her, him, and nothing in between. She wondered if her hands were really shaking or if she was only imagining the slight quiver. She wished she had a brown paper bag. Place it to her lips- in and out, in and out- until pop goes the weasel.

Those emerald eyes nearly bore holes into her flesh- if it could burn anymore than this. She tried to keep her breathing normal- but it was getting shallow, tried to not to look so anxious, even though her pulse was pounding away and made her head ache. She tried to keep her eyes on his- but not on his- kind of like reverse looking into the eyes of a wild dog- instead of being the threat if you looked into them, she felt like she would be trash if she looked away. It must have been enough for him. He didn't waste any more time interrogating her.

But she didn't expect the bomb he dropped on her next. Like a good swing, a well aimed shot, a knife thrown with perfect precision, a rock hurled with deadly accuracy-

"Enough of this Onna. Your unhealthy obsession with me is not only an annoyance, but it has incited within you increasingly absurd desires to meddle in my affairs. I warned you to cease this ill-founded nonsense immediately, or I would have to make sure you understood the precarious situation in which you have now found yourself."

-POW! Right on the Kisser! Knock Out! Fatality! The Critical Finish, Mission Failed, do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars.

In that moment, she could have sworn she heard a car crash, a window break, a baby cry, a tea kettle blow, the hallelujah chorus, the ching ching of a cash register, a cat meow- all in one mix of nonsensical noise that did nothing to explain how she felt. She couldn't have been more dumbfounded than if he had stripped and tried to rape her right there. Her mouth hung open, and she could only imagine how she must look- the blood draining from her face, her hands suddenly tight on the sheet, eyes wide, slack jawed. Her pounding heart shuddered to a halt and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. Her vision faded and she thought she'd mercifully passed out- until she found herself blinking, bringing the spinning world of white and green eyes back into focus. And then reality caught up with her.

Her face burned, and she leapt from the bed, violently throwing back the covers and springing to the floor, running full speed towards the door before her brain could even find the time to process- and she must've missed him- must have missed him because she pulled back on her heels and pumped the brakes so hard and so suddenly she stumbled backwards, blinking owlishly at how quick he had managed to cross the room, she hadn't even seen him move- but there he was, his tall imposing frame blocking the door- her only means of escape.

For one frantic, absurd moment she considered leaping from the window, spreading her newfound wings and flying away. His face was cold and empty, uninviting and unyielding- it hadn't changed even then, even after he'd so easily acknowledged what she had carefully concealed from everyone she'd ever known for months on end. But she'd forgotten it was him- to him, maybe this was a passing fact, like noting on the weather. Not to be seriously considered or even acknowledged- just- just another printed line in the latest newsflash: ( 'Orihime Inoue was killed today jumping from the window of two story building in an attempt to flee from her long time crush, who merely questioned her motives after she was caught stalking him around the campus. The student in question, Ulquiorra Schiffer, only had this to say-'

-and cue camera running a live feed of reporters staked out in front of his apartment. They jump eagerly as he opens his door. He pauses briefly- to stare or glare is uncertain, before the door is slammed in their faces.

'-that is all. And now, the weather!')

"Why did you run? Because my assessment was correct?"

She turned her head- snapped back to the bitter reality she so desperately wanted to escape. There was no doubt- he would have ripped her wings to shreds. She backed up a step, stumbled backwards, a hand blindly reaching behind her until it once again made contact with the bed. She ran her tongue hastily over her dry lips. She opened her mouth, tried to answer him- an indefinable gurgle of sound came out, a funny mix of words and nonsense.

He stepped towards her.

"Answer me Onna."

And all in one breath, it left her. She whipped her head back to face him, and she didn't need a mirror to know how her expression must have been- the desperate edge in her voice, the haggard look in her eyes. She tried to hold in, tried to hold it back- it had long since become painfully obvious to her that he was disgusted by weakness- but that didn't stop her hands from balling into fists, and she had to blink harshly to keep the water out of her eyes. She prayed for hope, for mercy- although for her, surely there would be neither.

"But how did you know! I- I never so much as spoke two words to you since! I don't have any classes with you, I never see you, I had never fully looked you in the face until yesterday, and you've been here for months-and you never- to me I mean, you've never…" her voice trailed off into a whisper, eaten alive by the brooding silence that always seemed to occupy him. She dared a glance at him through her lashes, her lips tight. He was still together, still calm and collected- it seemed almost impossible to think they were having a conversation like this, that she was unwinding to him like this- but he was so unaffected. How could he be unaffected? Did he not think enough of her to even care?

"…You're a witch." She murmured half halfheartedly, half seriously as she stared into the dark abyss of those eyes. She knew she had used the improper term, but she could not have been bothered to recall the specifics she'd learned from her history classes now.

"…Onna, you simply are remarkably easy to read."

For one moment, she considered running forward and slapping him square across the face. Smack him square across, that cold, empty face. Because he had known how she felt all this time- all this time! He had known to some degree, how fiercely she had fallen for him for reasons she couldn't exactly explain, and all he'd done- was nothing.

She stumbled back onto the bed at that thought, feeling oddly enough like a deflated balloon. Through a fog she listened to him, his voice a passionless monotone, mechanical, detached as he explained it to her. Or, as she found herself fondly labeling it in her mind as she drifted in a daze, the 'reason you suck at this' speech.

"Recently, I have been observing you. Your obvious attempts at avoidance were what first aroused my suspicions of your motives. Your pathetic attempts at stealth are lamentable. It was further confirmed when I found you in my living quarters. The fact that you did not even question the purpose of the equipment in which you found yourself previously entangled alone was enough- if your rapidly increasing body temperature, darkening facial coloring, and shallow breathing was not. I assure you, underestimating my powers of perception was your downfall."

She wondered if this was the part where she was supposed to laugh- or jump out the window anyway. It was a funny bizarre, what-the-deuce-is-going-on kind of feeling. Like her mind was stuck, repeating it over and over again, like a broken record-after all this time, he had known- and then again, it was him and it was stupid of her to think he hadn't of known. Her downfall?

Woah. Hold on a tic. And then the oddest, strangest, most impossible of thoughts hit her. And she roused from her daze, with some mad emotion that could have almost been hope. She perked up, the wheels in her mind twirling-her downfall?

No. And she smiled blissfully to herself, a love sick smile, one of those sugary Disney princesses smile- when they looked from the window of the tower and saw their saviors riding towards them on a shining white horse. The first glimmer of hope roused to life in her eyes, her heart a burst of love and peace and- satisfaction. She had sense to know that maybe she was only pulling at straws, that maybe she was misinterpreting everything he was saying to her, that maybe she was just playing the fool completely missing the point.

But her downfall? It was his. If they'd been playing, she would have yelled to the heavens that she had just won the game. And her smile widened- her smile- she tried to hold in, tried to smother it in her palm. She didn't let him see her face, not now, when her eyes were to bright with a joy to insane to be real, not when something inside of her was soaring and doing the fist pump.

Because he'd practically just openly admitted he'd been stalking her just as much as she had been stalking him. He had just been better at it. She wondered if this was the part where she laughed diabolically and admitted that this had been her plan all along, pull the plug, flip the switch, the walls go boom and then she would hop on the dangling rope ladder and climb up into her get-away helicopter. 'Bingo! Give the boy a cookie! He has won the Grand Prize! Now for the Finale-!'

She knew she was being stupid, being absolutely ridiculous for being so ecstatic about something so trivial- but she couldn't stop the smile, couldn't contain the grin from sweeping across her face and warming her cheeks. There was a strange tingle in her chest- like finding a kitten in her flower pot, or helping a lost child find his way home. She knew she was taking too much liberty with this, enjoying this too much- he probably hadn't meant to admit it, he probably had no idea about the turn her mind had taken.

She stared down into her lap, playing with her fingers as she enjoyed the warm tingle running through her chest. It was the smallest thing but- it was something. It was something and- she looked up at him. And for the first time, for the very first time- he blinked at her- blinked – as if for one startling moment he had to refocus his vision, had to assure himself that what he was seeing was real. Because she didn't hide it.

She looked up and stared straight at him- unabashedly, even though her heart was pounding- and let him see. The blush blooming in her cheeks, the warmth in her eyes as she stared up at him through dark lashes, the steady, peaceful smile on her face.

She didn't move her eyes from his- and what she saw in the depths of those emerald eyes was a flicker of something- he didn't back away or blink again- but she could tell, she didn't need to be a mind reader to know- there was a different air about him now, the longer he stared into her face. Still imposing, still cold but- hesitant somehow- and she wondered if for one moment, she was making him feel as anxious as he made her feel.

He stood stock still, immovable. Even though something was changing, some invisible metamorphism happening to both of them- or maybe just to her?- right in front of them, he refused to imply in any way, shape, or form that he was rattled. But something told her he was rattling all the same. Stupid woman's intuition? She didn't know how she knew. But they were both waiting, waiting for something to happen and instinctively she knew, that if she never had another opportunity then her time was now because-

This was her Finale.

She sucked in a deep breath, stood up straight so suddenly her knees knocked together. She stomped forward towards him aggressively, slowly, and then so quickly she heard the pitpat of her shoes on the floor run together as if she had been sprinting. He didn't back away from her, he didn't move- her eyes stayed locked on his- and she could see it again, roaring to the surface, he hadn't expected this, his carefully calculated responses were next to nothing to this. He couldn't peg her, he couldn't understand her- how could she still even consider-? Because she walked right up on him, right up on him, she didn't think to reach for his shoulders- she grabbed the front of his shirt- she didn't jerk his head down so much as jerked herself upwards-closed her eyes shut- and before she could think, before she could regret, before she could anything else- she smashed her lips against his.

And her face was aflame and burning because she couldn't believe she was doing this, and her mind was stuck on stupid because she couldn't believe she was doing this, and her body was alive because she was doing this, and the frigid cold of his lips against her fevered ones was a sensation so bizarre, so weird, and yet somehow so pleasantly chilling a shudder ran through her whole body, a shudder that she could feel to the core of her, and for one blissful moment, her body melted wholly against his.

She'd never kissed before, and after one like this she probably never would again- because it was surely a sin to have a first one like this- even if he was immovable stone beneath her hands, even if he didn't kiss her back, because to hell with it she couldn't stop now, she didn't know how else to reach him when he knew but couldn't understand the fire he could light in her- she wanted him to feel it, he had to feel this, he had to, when she was burning up, when she was on fire, when her heart was pounding and she felt alive, and-

Her hand, the one not entangled desperately in the fabric of his shirt, had splayed against his chest over where his heart should've been and it was funny, and maybe the kiss rape she was literally forcing on him had made her too foggy to be able to determine what else was happening- but it was funny because she could've sworn that in there, under that cold flesh, there was…and then she realized something so startling, so bizarre-

The moment in which she realized it, he was gone. He had not ripped himself out of her arms, he had not disentangled himself from her- he had melted, vanished. One minute her lips had been pressed against his, her body against his, her hands touching him, feeling the cold of him- and the next there was nothing but air and she was kissing the wind. And she stumbled forward, realizing how heavily her body had been leaning against his, literally toppling to the floor once her support had vanished. And she looked up quickly, frantically, her eyes finally finding him- he was standing by the door, with his back to her. That ramrod straight back to her.

She tried to remember how to breathe- the cold of tiled floor was bliss to the heated flesh of her palms, her legs bared beneath her skirt. She raised herself up on her side, running a burning palm up the length of her bare arm. She could feel the goose bumps. She raised her hand to her face, fingertips brushing against her lips- the chill was still there.

She would have given her life to know what kind of expression he wore now. She would have given her soul to know what he was thinking, what had he thought of it, what did he think of her now or- what? She wondered if the act had disgusted him, if her touch had disgusted him, if after all of that, she had further solidified herself as trash to him.

She wondered if, even for a moment, if even for a second, she had made him feel. If only a little.

There was a long moment of intense silence- a pregnant pause that made her gnaw ferociously at her bottom lip. She savored the feel of the cold of his lips against hers.

She hadn't expected him to speak- like a ghost- surely any moment now he would vanish, evaporate into ash. She could feel him begin- and he stopped- it was the one and only time she could recall him being at a loss for words.

"…Someone will be here shortly to inquire as to the state of your health. I…trust your curiosity has finally been appeased, and that you will finally cease all of this nonsense."

She paused, raising her eyes to his back again, feeling a violent upheaval within her at his words. Is that what he thought this was to her? Just…a game? Something silly girls did to pass the time? Something that would just…go away with time? Nonsense? She had never been one to show defiance- but that was surely what was burning in her eyes as she narrowed her eyes at his back. She couldn't ever recall, not even once, feeling this spirited, feeling this passionate about anything or anyone. It was not the type of monotonous every day spirit that she applied to friends suddenly dumped by jerk boyfriends, nor the type of family friendly rage that filled her at sporting events, yelling aptly named cheers at the enemy team.

It was something else. In that brief thought where she'd half way considered slapping him, was from whence this spirit had been born. It was not the hot flame of a woman scorned, but the dull blaze of a woman angered. It was foreign- but welcoming. Bold but necessary. She didn't know she even knew how to be like this, how to be the type of woman that chased the man and gave him what for when he showed his back to her. But he was changing her little by little.

"That's not what it is! You might not be able to acknowledge them, but I know these feelings- are from the heart. Why can't you just admit that?"

Her passionate words were met with silence- she didn't need to see his face to know, she could feel it- the gap between them. The increasingly widening divide that for one brief moment- she had jumped, had landed against the odds on the other side. But she could feel it- the reality of their differences dragging her back to that often hollow world she had previously lived. She felt the spirit, that spirit- leaving her as she realized that it was almost as if- he couldn't understand her. It was a brief, confused silence- and she could feel the strain between them- she pressed her lips together into a thin line, almost not wanting to hear what he had to say. So before he could, tentatively she continued, staring anxiously at his back. For all the honesty in the impassioned words- had she honestly believed that kind of fire would touch such a cold being?

She felt drained- to think that for a moment, she'd thrown away those inhibitions, had for one moment felt like anyone but herself. She'd felt like some dazzling new being, that hadn't been afraid and now…her voice was quieter now, heartfelt. The last thing she wanted, had ever wanted, was to drive him away…not when in this moment she felt closer to him than she had ever been.

"-Why can't you believe them? I mean…this is not something that is just going to…go away. Something this strong, that I can feel inside- the heart just knows. You might not understand exactly what I mean- it's kind of hard to explain- but my heart does. And…I won't allow you to mock my feelings."

Again that silence- that strange brooding silence. The bridge- seemed wider than ever. She didn't know how she knew he didn't understand, how she knew that somehow he couldn't understand- but she did. And she didn't know why that made her feel so sad. Just right now, in this moment- that proud, straight back- seemed almost lonely.

If there had been anything in him, if there had been any doubt, any compassion, anything- when he spoke again, she knew he had killed it. That strange something vanished almost as suddenly as if it had never been there- she could imagine him shaking it off- that slight weakness her confession had given him, if only for a brief moment. And then she could feel the wall close up between them, the ice back in his voice.

"…I am incapable of passion, nor can I reciprocate the feelings you believe yourself to possess for me. You will cease your enquiries. You will cease your attempts at trying to discern what manner of person I might be. And you will cease these foolish ideals of romantic complications ever occurring between us. You and I are incompatible."

She wondered if he was trying to convince her- or himself.

She could still feel the cold beneath her hands, still vividly replay in her mind that one blissful moment of complete surrender, complete abandon, when she had been against him, melting like hot chocolate over frozen yogurt. It was still too strong- the feel of him, the crisp scent of him- still too strong- she had enough sense left to realize that he was rejecting her in so many words- that he had felt her fire, her heart- for one brief moment. But he was denying it- but the pain only went down to a certain point, and she knew as sure as her name was Orihime Inoue she was going to follow him again in secret at the next given opportunity.

She looked up, her eyes trailing the length of his back with a longing she knew he couldn't feel. Maybe he was right. He probably was. Her eyes drifted to her hands, fisting against the cold tile of the floor. Maybe he was incapable of passion. Maybe he would never return her feelings. It would probably be better for her to give up- they were as opposite as opposites could be. Her ideas of princesses and dragons and mutant half human/dragon hybrids was pretty stupid after all.

"Onna, this is where it ends. I will not see you again."

Nu uh, she wanted to tell him, yell at him, stick out her tongue and waggle her fingers in her ears like a petulant child as he quietly left the room, the door shutting silently behind him, leaving her alone. Something had to begin before it could end. And this was where it began- because she would see him again.

Because now that she'd gone through with it, now that she'd done it, now that she'd felt him, touched him, felt the wonderful sensation of her against him- her dreams were going to be like fake jewelry compared to diamonds. She'd gotten a taste of something, of this feeling, and she didn't want to just let it go- not now or ever. And as sure as her name was Orihime and her panties were soaked through, (combined with a strange urge for a shot and a cigarette- even though she had never drunk or smoked nor wanted too)- she knew that no matter what he said now, it didn't matter because it was all said too late.

She loved him now, and she would get him to feel the same way (if only a little) or die trying.


"Hey how do you get a boy to like you?"

Tatsuki choked on her juice box, shooting a projectile stream of grape flavored saliva right into Rukia's face, who had gotten a bite of cupcake lodged in her throat, and was clawing at her windpipe violently as her body wracked with coughs, and there was five minutes of pure chaos as they heaved and gasped, while she helped them gather themselves together, her face appropriately worried.

Tatsuki wiped her face with a napkin, the expression on her face a funny mix of surprise and pure 'wtf'ness.

"Um…come again?"

She smiled innocently, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

"Well um…I was wondering how do you get a boy to like you back? I mean- sure he kind of sort of knows that I like him the same way I like cookie and carrot cake, but I think he feels like I'm- um…not exactly the same type of person that he is…kind of." Boy explaining this while they were staring at her with such wide eyed expressions was hard.

Tatsuki blinked, staring at her as if she had just grown a second head.

"Oh um…wow…um…yeeaaah…"-And let the awkward silence commence!

She knew that Tatsuki thought she was thinking about Ichigo- by the way her eyes darted quickly between her and Rukia- since the whole point was that Rukia no doubt liked Ichigo too. Why else had they been suddenly spending so much time together-? Speculation here and there- they both disappeared at the oddest times, they had been seen running through town, Rukia had been reportedly seen hanging from his window. Tatsuki gulped, staring holes in her half empty carton of juice as if she were hoping it would randomly combust instead of having to resort to answering the question.

Rukia on the other hand, got herself together quickly, and leaned on her elbows curiously- she was clueless about everything of course. Bonus Points.

"Well I suppose such a thing would depend on what type of man he is."

This made her pause- and she pursued her lips, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to think what words could possibly be used to describe someone like him- who was indescribable.

"Well he's…um…really…different. I've never met anyone else like him in the history of ever. And I don't think there ever has been. He's just…different. He's kind of hard to explain…"

Rukia raised an eyebrow at her lame explanation, rolling her eyes in response as she took the opportunity to nab another bite of the cupcake that had almost killed her. "And you said he knows that you like him?"

She briefly flashbacked to a moonlit confession and bright orange hair- and then the cold, mechanical refusal in the infirmary. That strange, confused silence as he listened to her words. She nibbled on a French fry dipped in chocolate icing and syrup to keep her mind on track, nodding in the affirmative.

"Well in that case- the first thing you should have to do is openly confess. Yes, he may be aware of your feelings, but these things are different when it comes straight from the source, that alone could be enough to change his mind. I've been told that 'Bold' women are in style these days. So you should let him know exactly what you think about him."

She nearly choked herself, struggling to stop herself from heaving chewed fry all over the table at Rukia's subtle comment- she hurried to turn her head and cough into her napkin, giving her burning face time to wheedle back down to a normal temperature. Bold women? She blushed, for the first time the entire incident settling in her mind. Oh wow…she'd instigated kiss rape.

She fumbled with the thought in her mind, suddenly wondering if the campus police wouldn't roll up in here at any moment, swinging night sticks and taser guns. Handcuffs, finger printing- a criminal line up against the wall, between a Chinese hooker and a female midget, imagining those cold green eyes on the other side of one of those long windows, his long finger pointing right at her. She could almost hear him say it-! 'There's the Onna who attacked me.'

She could feel the imaginary sweat form on her brow at the thought of balls and chains and cell mates with questionable back grounds. She didn't think there was a charge for that exactly, but contrary to Rukia's belief, he hadn't seemed to particularly enjoy her "boldness." And…she'd still been rejected.

She sighed audibly, before remembering that their eyes were still dissecting her- and at the first sign of her being unhappy or distressed, they would jump on her like wild animals, and all but tear her apart until they could get the truth out of her. She made sure to keep the smile glued to her face when she turned back to them.

"Wow that's some really great advice Rukia- but he's not the type to enjoy things like that I think- I kind of think he may be really awkward when it comes to girls and feelings so…do you have any other suggestions?"

Rukia paused, thinking hard as she rubbed her fingertips against her temples. After a moment she put her hands down, a sly smile on her face.

"Well…it might not be the best idea, but this one is fool proof, especially for someone like you..you could always just use the …aesthetics, if you know what I mean." She waggled her eyebrows. Tatsuki stood up forcefully, making the table rattle.

"Rukia quit giving Orihime weird ideas!"

Rukia raised her hands in surrender, waving off Tatsuki's rage. "Don't worry- where I come from, I've seen my fair share of women get men this way. I can even think of one in particular…"-and for a moment, Rukia seemed to shudder in horror at the thought. "-but she was well…rather loose by society's standards. But hey, she did always get the man."

Rukai sighed, staring at Orihime for a moment, then looked down at herself. "Must be nice…" She took a hard swig from her soda can, throwing her head back as if she were sipping hard on a container of beer, forgetting the woes of being a small chested woman in today's world in drink. Orihime smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed at the comment- but she had gotten used to it by now.

In fact, she was more curious about something else Rukia had mentioned- where she came from. She rarely, if any time at all, ever mentioned the place she had lived before moving to Karakura. And coupled with this was a mysterious intensity that always seemed to surround Rukia- she was a friendly enough girl, a little strange every now and then, she could vanish without a moment's notice, and could ask some pretty odd questions.

But when it came to Rukia, there were always so many questions on the tip of her tongue. What kind of place had it been? What kind of people had she known? Why had she come here?

Rukia had shown up at the beginning of the year- and most notably of all, Ichigo had already known her and had seemed surprised to be seeing her again. Rumor had it- rumors that were slyly whispered between classes, and quieted when she had drawn near- that Rukia had been a summer fling. Rumor had it that Rukia had fallen in love with him to such an extent that she had decided to follow him to University. Before, the thought had pained her- and had led to many an awkward silence between them.

Now, she could bear it- because rumor also had it that she worked after hours at a circus as a trapeze artist. Although it was an awesome job, and a pretty awesome rumor over all- as far as rumors went- she knew better then to believe them now. Although the whole trapeze artist thing had merit.

Tatsuki was staring at Rukia curiously too- as if their thoughts were mirroring each other- but like always, neither of them would ask Rukia anything. They had silently agreed that they wouldn't press her. Who knew? Maybe she was an outlaw vigilante on the run from the police. An AWOL agent being hunted down by the government. A secret spy undercover at their University in an attempt to try and unearth a cock-fighting ring. Or maybe that prostitution ring Nnoitra supposedly had going for him…or maybe too much Lifetime was really starting to be bad for her health.

Realizing that her mind had wandered off again, she came back to reality just in time, as Tatsuki turned to her curiously, a question on her lips.

"So Orihime let's talk some more about this mysterious guy- what do you think he thinks about you?"

She paused, instantly feeling her gaze drop to her hands in her lap. "I think he might consider me… an annoyance. I mean…he kind of made that one clear…but-"

Tatsuki perked up, her eyes vicious as she mentally checked off all the ways she was going to make Ichigo's life hell today for making Orihime sad. And before she could further explain, the girl's voice was in her ears, laced with a venomous rage that made her temples throb. "He must be a fucking pig! What kind of asshole tells a girl she's an annoyance? I say to hell with him!"

She hurriedly gnawed on another French fry in a pathetic attempt to pretend the words hadn't left her. She gulped audibly at the fire in Tatsuki's eyes, knowing well the rage the pint sized girl could unleash whenever she felt threatened. Anxiously, she raised her hands, hurriedly to soothe the older girl.

"Nononono it's not like that Tatsuki! He was right to think so, since I have kind of been stalking him and following him when I thought he wasn't looking and I did kind of sneak into his house-" She felt her face drop. Oops.

"You- WHAT?"

Tatsuki voice roared across the cafeteria, and everyone within a five table radius paused and perked their ears- when Tatsuki got like this, there was usually no stopping her- and although it was hell for whoever was on the receiving end of her rage, it was pure entertainment for everyone else. Her grey eyes darted hastily around the room, wishing she could burrow underground and live with the mole people, as she listened to the harsh echo in Tatsuki's screech. She struggled to explain, and in her hurry to make this all go away, she effectively managed to dig herself into an even deeper hole.

"I-I- I mean I didn't do it to smell his underwear or steal his toothbrush or anything, like those crazy psycho stalker women do on tv- I just found out he lives near me and my crazy landlord found his key and I was just being nice and taking it back to him, and then I accidentally got hand cuffed to his ceiling-"

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HANDCUFFED TO HIS CEILING?"

She banged her head against the table. This was going to be a long lunch period.


He didn't see him again until the evening.

He was pissed as all fucking hell by then, pissed because that bastard hadn't known he had been waiting for him, and pissed because he had been waiting for him. He had stalked the halls with a renewed vigor all afternoon, his hair trigger temper on the verge of a nuclear meltdown, a rage that he could barely control, hell- much less contain. All he wanted to do was break something, break someone, tear something to shreds, pound someone's face in, the rhythmic smack of his fist against flesh the only comfort he wanted. And then he couldn't really explain why he was pissed, which pissed him off even more.

So when that bastard finally turned the corner, all he wanted to do was break his fucking neck. It wasn't like he'd never seriously considered it- they hated each other in a way he couldn't even begin to describe. And if he had been able to kill the bastard tomorrow, he'd be the happiest mother fucker on the planet.

He leaned against the railing, arms crossed and scowling fiercely as his "oh so wonderful brother dear" –the hell with that!- casually walked up to his apartment door as if he weren't even fucking standing right fucking here less than five fucking feet away from him.

That alone was enough to make him start shit right there, and it took a lot of shit he didn't know he had to hold back the violent tremble in his fingers from going through that fucking skull. He got straight to the point- the quicker this got handled, the quicker he could go back to doing other equally important shit.

"Did you fucking kill her?"

The bastard didn't say anything, just silently pulled his key from the depth of his pocket and placed it in the lock- and turned until an audible click could be heard.

"I do not believe that is any of your concern. Grimmjow."

Grimmjow fist was up and ready to be thrown before he could stop it- and It took a momentous amount of effort to remind himself of all the shitty people in this stupid place, and exactly why he couldn't afford to do shit like this- not just for his ass, but for everyone else's- not that he fucking cared about that. He might not be able to handle things the way he had always handled them, and if it was one thing he was not, it was diplomatic. And nothing got under his skin more, than those half assed answers. Like he was worth less than a fucking response. Worth less than a hell yeah or a fuck no, worth less than something so fucking simple. He ground his hand into a fist, feeling the muscles, the tendons, the bones, crack and pulse, fighting to resist the powerful urge to just- go completely ape shit.

"Ulquiorra you fucking bastard don't you dare spout that bullshit at me. I asked you a fucking question. Did you. Fucking. Kill her."

Aw hell- he didn't know why he even cared. If she hadn't been so fucking stupid maybe he wouldn't be asking. It would serve the bitch right- no one else gave a flying fuck about them, it was her own damn fault for poking her nose where it didn't belong. It was just sense, especially to him, to them. Quick solution- eliminate the fucking problem. And he hated that he was even asking, and only asking because princess or not, she had balls. And if it was one thing he could begrudgingly respect, it was just that. Had it been anyone else, then fuck 'em. He felt like a chick like that deserved something, compared to all those other stupid bitches that wasted his breath every day.

Ulquiorra opened his door. And if he even took one fucking step without answering his fucking question then fuck the rules, fuck the code, fuck survival, right here, right now, he was going to pay the fucking piper.

"Are you implying that I am a fool? I know well the complications of such a hasty action. I am not like you Grimmjow. I can evaluate a situation and choose the most logical course of action."

Ugh. What pissed Grimmjow off more, without exception, was a couple of things- aggravating bitches, Ichibitches, and listening to Ulquiorra talk. It was rare for the bastard to instigate conversation when he wasn't telling them what the hell they were supposed to be doing, and he was better off because of it. What with that stick shoved so far up his ass and everything. All things considered Ulquiorra might have been the last one to adjust to this, but Grimmjow didn't really care about that. He scowled, flipping the middle finger at Ulquiorra so hard he could have pulled a damn muscle.

"Fuck you Ulquiorra. I was just making sure you didn't do anything stupid. You're the one who fucking said we couldn't afford to do shit like this. What the hell was she doing out there anyway?"- and then, now that he thought about-"Is she one of them?"

And the scowl was fierce on his face, his upper lip rolling back to reveal the elongated fangs, a snarl of displeasure-because god help her if it turned out she was, because he would fucking kill her himself!

"Calm yourself. Certain fallacies are to be expected. The Onna is nothing but a human."

Well-no-fucking-duh. Even he could have figured that out- he supposed some chick babbling shit about ice cream and Wednesdays could barely throw a fucking punch, much less be after their asses. But hell, these days it was hard to tell- they could do this shit pretty easily after all, and those bastards were pretty damn good at this themselves.

Grimmjow had hated Ulquiorra from the time both of them had been born. And after all these years of doing this shit, he still did. But what made him stop and pause as Ulquiorra vanished into the depths of his room was something else- Grimmjow knew his habits like the back of hand by now- and it was the first time Ulquiorra had called a human anything but trash.

Aw hell…he didn't even want to know. Especially not when it came to that mellow bastard. There was really no telling what the hell he'd done. As long as she wasn't fucking dead then it was fine. He turned his head to the side and spit black viciously over the edge, storming back down the walk as he ran a calloused hand through his ragged hair. Fuck this. He was getting hungry anyway.


The advice she'd gotten was horrible. Rukia told her she should sneak back in to his house, and be waiting for him when he got home, to confront him. But then again, Rukia hadn't been there the first time. Tatsuki told her she should 'forget about that bastard' and then had proceeded to storm off, murmuring under her breath that she had 'business to handle'.

She'd asked her other friends- but they had all giggled underneath their palms and suggested she follow Rukia's suggestion. Then others said she should confess personally, even if he already knew about her feelings, these things were different when it came to a girl's perspective. She was lucky she had done that at least. But getting herself emotionally prepared for a full on confession was harder now then it had been then. Well she had been younger then…not that being older had changed her that much.

…Okay maybe she had fibbed a little on that. Being older had changed her taste in men considerably. Monstrously even.

She's asked Chad- all he'd done was blink his lone eye at her ardent questioning, since when it came to Chad she could sometimes get a little over enthusiastic about explaining things since he was so good at listening, never mind how outrageous she got about telling the story. He of course, mumbled something about rainbows and weather, and had by the time she'd left him she'd forgotten what it was she had to ask him. Uryuu had merely forced his glasses up further on his nose, mumbled some nonsense about having dresses to mend, had grabbed his bag, and hauled fanny out of the room. So much for that idea.

She didn't ask Ichigo.

Cheerleading practice had been uneventful. None of them had been there.

By the time she had finished putting up the equipment, it was dusk before she made her trek across town. It probably would have been smarter, not to mention easier, if she had just chosen to live on campus instead of making this journey every day. But even in high school, she had enjoyed the feeling of living and providing for herself- and now more than ever, she needed it. She loved Tatsuki to death but constantly living with her…was…well…yeah. She could only imagine.

It was getting dark quickly, and the sunlight had faded to an early night by the time she managed to get to her bus stop- and as soon as she rounded the corner, she caught a glimpse of the tail end of the bus riding off down the street. She felt her face crumple with disappointment- that was the last bus at this stop, and now she would have to walk two blocks over before she would be able to catch another one home.

She sighed at the thought of walking any further when she was already physically weary from practice, emotionally drained from trying to woo a heartless robot, not to mention fending off Tatsuki when she was on a roaring rampage of revenge. She tentatively moved a strand of hair from her fair, tucking it back behind one of her hair pins, glad of the high pony tail that allowed the breeze to blow against the back of her bare neck as she stared down the imposing street.

If she went through down town, she'd have to be Speedy Gonzales if she even wanted to have a chance of making it to the other bus stop in time. And since she was not a little brown mouse with a sombrero, nor was she a long legged road runner being hounded by a coyote, she resigned herself to plan B. She turned, and stared down the dark of the empty to the right of the bus stop.

Plan B- crossing through a couple of imposing alleys, fighting her way through hobos and drunkards, filth and slime, all in order to make it across town in half the time, just in time to burst heroically from the gloom through the sliding doors just in time before they slammed shut, hurl her quarters into the 'Pay here' container, and sit down to a cacophony of applause and wonder. She couldn't make the idea glamorous no matter how much she tried.

She stared down into the gloom of the alley, the rapidly approaching dark, already casting an ominous shadow over the shrouded area. She wrinkled her nose, already smelling the nauseating perfume of week old trash, dog poo, and unwashed grandma. She looked down at her feet, glad the shoes she'd worn today were just high enough to hopefully protect her ankles from touching the filth. She took a step into the alley, nearly vomiting from the smell. She leaned against the alley wall in order to give herself time to adjust, nearly screaming as her palm came in contact with slimy goo she couldn't see in the dim. She shook her hand fiercely, making a face and sticking out her tongue, gagging.

She gulped again, staring back down into the alley. She wondered if it weren't too late to make it across town…

And suddenly, randomly, she thought of something Grimmjow said –of all people- in what seemed to her now to have been years ago.

[-Because that's what bitches do. They bitch out when it comes to shit like this.]

She didn't know why she thought of that, but the thought unsettled her. Was It because she was feeling so anxious about this? Who wouldn't she? She was all by herself, faced with a back alley with who knows what in there- anyone would be afraid of that right?

No…Rukia wouldn't have been. Not Chad, Uryuu, Ichigo- and especially not Tatsuki. They wouldn't think twice about walking through a couple of back alleys to get home. Not twice. And here she was, slightly afraid, already back pedaling, already second guessing. Just like- how trash would act. She scrunched her nose, and set her fists, her face determined. Then she could do this, no problem. Even if her knees were wobbling and her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat trickling down the back of her neck. She could do this, no problem.

And before she could think twice, she closed her eyes and sprinted down the alley.


AN: Sleepy D:

All apologies to be made for the lack of typos/spelling errors/ etc I'm actually pretty astounded by all the reviews I got for this and 3 times as many alerts (It's cool I still love you guys long time anyway!) I was going to reply to all of them, but a surprising number of them were from unregistered members- and partly cause I ran out of stuff to say so sorry I suck so much gais. But really, thanks I was really motivated to continue so keep em coming! I tried with this chapter, even tho it might not be as sexy as chapters past xD

I also got a surprising number of requests for an Ulqui centric chapter- but I dunno, I kind of like the fact that nobody knows what he's thinking, not even me, the author! And partly b/c quite honestly, I'm not sure my damn self how he would feel about a girl in his basement...not to mention kiss rape. D:

...I've kiss raped someone before myself. Fun stuff. But enough about me, tell me what you think guys :,D

And of course the saying 'you'll get raped in a back alley' is 999999% true. Orihime must not know this.