Remember, things will only get worse before they become better.
Ichigo stared at his reflection in the full length mirror. He knew that no matter how many times he blinked, he would still see the same image, but he kept blinking anyway. There were some marks on his hips - light bruises that he'd found while trying to figure out why he felt sore there. They were barely visible, and he wouldn't have noticed them if he hadn't been searching for them. He didn't know what to think. Did he hit himself against a table? The door frame?
He was still trying to recall what happened two nights ago. This hangover seemed worse than the last one, or at least it seemed that way, because he hadn't been able to get out of bed until a few hours ago. Even now he was still feeling a little groggy, but he had to get up. He had class tomorrow, and he refused to let a hangover get in the way of his studies. If he slept well tonight, he should be fully recovered tomorrow. At least, he hoped he would be.
Ichigo dug out a clean t-shirt from his closet and pulled it over his head, then he slipped on a pair of clean boxers. He had just showered, so he felt relatively fresh. Now, he needed to sit down and go over what happened the other night. He sighed and plopped down on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face. So far, he'd established that the last thing he remembered was sitting in Renji's living room, chatting with him and another man. But beyond that, it was a blank slate. It was as if someone stole a portion of his brain, or like his mind was a skipped tape. He remembered not wanting to drink, but he couldn't be sure if he'd actually drunk or not.
What's for certain was that the last person he saw was Renji. Again. Given the circumstances, that would mean that Renji must've dropped him back to his dorm again. Ichigo wasn't sure how he felt about that - for some reason he felt uneasy about the man. From the interaction he did remember, Renji was a borderline asshole. But on the other hand, the man had been nice enough to bring him back here. That had got to count for something, right?
Ichigo sighed, feeling pissed at himself. He had set out to solve one mystery, only to dive into another one. This time, he didn't care how he was going to do it, but he was going to find the redhead and force the truth out of him. And this time, Ichigo would make sure that no alcohol, not even a single drop, would be involved.
Renji sat at the table across from the Burger King counter in the student union, his food and books spread out in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on either. It had been nearly a week now, and he still hadn't been able to calm down completely. He just knew he would never be able to sit in that couch again, the one where Shuuhei had raped that orange-haired kid.
He didn't know whether to be more freaked out about witnessing his friend have his way with an unconscious man or about how calm Shuuhei had been during the ordeal. Shuuhei had purposely done it slowly, carefully, as though he was making love to a fragile virgin, but Renji knew that he only did it to reduce the signs of trauma and damage on the kid's body. That, and the fact that Shuuhei had come prepared with drugs, made him feel sick.
This was all his fault. If he hadn't brought Ichigo back to his apartment, the kid wouldn't have been violated like this. But he seriously hadn't thought that Shuuhei would resort to force in the end. He thought that they were going to talk to Ichigo, arrange something - something consensual, damn it! It's not like they hadn't done it before. He didn't understand why Shuuhei was so fixated on this boy, so much so that he'd stoop so low. He knew that the first time they had sex with the kid was morally questionable, given that Ichigo was so drunk, but what happened this weekend was a whole other level of wrong.
And more than anything, Renji was afraid. What if Ichigo thought that he was the one who did it? What if he pointed him out to the police? He would get thrown into jail, and he couldn't let that happen. That was the whole reason why he didn't stop Shuuhei in the first place - he couldn't afford to get into trouble with the law, not here, not now.
This train of thought made him nervous and made his mouth go dry. He was just about to reach for his Coke when he felt someone standing in front of him. He looked up and, for a second, thought that he would get a heart attack.
"You," Ichigo said, staring down at Renji with his arms crossed over his chest.
Renji swallowed, silent simply because he was at a loss for words. He was confused; why was Ichigo so calm? He wore a scowl on his face, but he wasn't screaming and calling the cops like Renji would expect him to do.
"Hi," Renji finally replied after a stretch of silence.
Ichigo grabbed the back of one of the plastic chairs across from Renji and pulled it back, then he sat down on it. "I assume you took me home from your apartment that night," he said.
Too surprised to think, Renji blurted, "Yeah."
Ichigo looked at him with narrowed eyes for a little while before he relaxed his brows and said, "Thanks."
Renji's eyes were close to falling out from their sockets by now. Ichigo was thanking him? Did the boy not know what had happened to him? Then, it finally occurred to him - one of the symptoms of the drug that Shuuhei had used was anterograde amnesia. In other words, the person would not remember events that he experienced under the influence of the drug. Renji's eyes widened as he continued to gape at Ichigo. Could it be? Could it be that Ichigo didn't remember anything? At all?
"You're welcome," Renji croaked even as his mind was still processing the implication of this turn of events. This was good news for him. Well, good news for him and Shuuhei, but right now he didn't give a fuck about Shuuhei. The guy could go to hell for all he cared.
Now that Renji had more time to observe the boy, he noticed that Ichigo didn't look completely fine. His skin seemed sallower than Renji remembered, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. It made him look older, slightly haggard, like he hadn't been sleeping well.
Before he could stop himself, Renji asked, "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got run over by a truck," Ichigo said, his voice gruff but sounding a little sheepish. "That was one hell of a hangover."
Renji nodded numbly. A hangover. So that's what Ichigo thought it was. That was perfect. Renji wasn't going to correct him any time soon - it was in everyone's best interest. He spaced out briefly, his mind pre-occupied with the good news, before he realized that Ichigo was talking to him.
"I'm glad I ran into you," Ichigo was saying. "I was worried that I won't be able to find you again. I guess I could stake out at The Academy but I'd rather not go near alcohol for a while, you know?"
Renji nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.
Ichigo ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the food on the table. "I guess I'll have to buy you a meal next time, since you've already got food."
"What? What for?" Renji asked, frowning from confusion.
"I dunno, a token of thanks for taking me home, I guess?" Ichigo said, looking a little embarrassed. "This time, you're gonna have to tell me what happened on both nights, okay?"
Renji didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The kid was just too damn innocent for his own good. He must've stared at Ichigo for too long because the boy suddenly waved his hand in front of Renji's face.
"What?" Renji blinked dumbly.
Ichigo scowled. "I said, I'm going to need your number."
Renji hesitated for a few seconds. Truth be told, he didn't want to have anything to do with Ichigo anymore. This had been a close call - what if Ichigo recalled more after seeing him a few more times? He couldn't have that. But, as he looked at the boy's warm, caramel-hued eyes, his resolve faltered. Cursing at himself inwardly, Renji tore off a small piece of paper from his notebook and scribbled his name and cell phone number on it.
Ichigo pulled out his own cell phone and dialed the number. Renji's phone immediately began to screech in his back pocket.
"Cool," Ichigo said, eyes glued to the screen of his phone while he added Renji as a contact in his address book.
In the meantime, Renji fought the urge to massage his temples. This wasn't how he imagined things would go. He could barely look Ichigo in the eyes right now, much less sit through an actual meal with him. He opened his mouth to politely decline the offer, but at that moment Ichigo's cell phone rang, and he jumped up to answer it. Then, nodding despite the fact that the person on the line would not be able to see him, Ichigo mumbled something into the phone and jogged off, but not before throwing a small wave in Renji's direction.
Renji stared at his phone, where Ichigo's number was displayed clearly as a missed call, and wondered how he'd managed to get himself into this mess. All he could hope for now was that Ichigo's memory remained this way.
"Sorry I'm late," Ichigo huffed as he slid into his seat next to Renji.
Renji shot him a glare and grumbled, "You could at least call me. I felt like an idiot sitting here alone."
They were sitting in one of theaters in the cinema closest to campus, having agreed to catch the Bruce Willis flick that just came out together. As the room began to darken, Ichigo let out a contented sigh and slouched lower in his seat. Renji glanced at the younger man and couldn't help wondering again how things had changed so drastically over the last six months.
The lunch that Ichigo had treated him to had gone surprisingly well. Aside from the fact that Renji had to make up some rather vague stories about getting drunk with Ichigo, it wasn't as awkward as Renji had expected. It turned out that the two of them shared a lot in common - they were fans of the same soccer team, both were in track and field back in high school, shared similar tastes in music. They didn't become instant best friends, but Renji found it easy to get along with Ichigo. In the beginning, he felt really uncomfortable and guilty every time he saw Ichigo, but lately things had gotten better. They'd unconsciously fallen into the habit of meeting up at the student union for lunch, sometimes for dinner, then they started hanging out on weekends.
Like now, for instance. Next to him, Ichigo burst out into laughter at some joke in the dialogue that Renji didn't get. The boy sounded so genuinely happy and carefree that Renji couldn't help but smile and feel sad and angry all at the same time. He was glad that Ichigo didn't know what Shuuhei had done to him, but that didn't make Renji forget what he'd witnessed. He still gritted his teeth every time he thought of his former friend. Shuuhei hadn't contacted him since that night, and Renji hoped that he would never see the man again.
As Bruce Willis let loose another string of macho, overdramatic dialogue on the big screen, Ichigo laughed again. Shaking his head at the younger man's child-like behavior, Renji slowly let his mind return to the movie.
The movie wasn't as great as Renji had expected. It was alright, bloody and violent like your average action movie, but it was too predictable for his taste. Ichigo was ecstatic, though, and he kept repeating how he was going to email his friends in Japan to recommend this movie to them as they walked from the down town area back to campus. Renji lived off campus, but Ichigo's dormitory was kind of on the way to his apartment, so they usually walked there together before parting ways.
Ichigo was tapping furiously on his smart phone when Renji's phone vibrated in his pocket. Noting that he'd forgotten to turn the ringer back on after the movie, Renji automatically flipped the switch on the side of the phone, then his heart skipped a beat when he finally saw the caller ID. By reflex, he declined the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, his stomach twisting with a mixture of anger and disgust. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't realize that he'd spaced out until Ichigo suddenly smacked the back of his head.
"Hey!" Renji yelped in protest, rubbing his head with a scowl.
"What are you, constipated?" Ichigo teased.
Renji rolled his eyes. Before he could retort, his phone went off again, the obnoxiously loud ring tone cutting through the silence of the evening. Cringing, he reached into his pocket and quickly pressed a button to silence the ring tone. It continued to vibrate in his pocket, though, until the call finally went to his voicemail and stopped.
Ichigo shot him a curious look but didn't comment, and Renji was secretly relieved. Then, his phone screeched again. He let out a frustrated grunt and declined the call once more.
"Avoiding somebody?" Ichigo asked cautiously.
"You can say that," Renji muttered.
Immediately after he spoke, his phone rang again. This time, he stared at the phone like he wanted to swallow it whole. He had half the mind to throw his phone across the lawn and watch it shatter on the ground, but the logical part of his brain held him back. Why? Why did this have to happen right when things were getting better?
"I'm sorry, Ichigo, can you walk back yourself? I gotta take this," Renji said, his voice coming out a little stiffer than he liked.
As Ichigo walked away, Renji finally tapped on the Accept button and brought the phone to his ear.
"You're not trying to run away from me, are you?" Shuuhei sounded amused.
"Fuck you," Renji snapped. "I don't want to have anything to do with you anymore. Don't ever call me again."
"Aww," Shuuhei said mockingly. "But I missed ya." The line went quiet for a bit safe for the man's low chuckles, then Shuuhei continued, "I miss that kid too."
Renji sucked in a deep breath. He knew immediately why Shuuhei had called. "No," he said, his fingers tightening unconsciously around the phone.
"Are you sure?" Shuuhei asked, his voice suddenly dropping an octave lower.
Renji bit his lip, then replied in a firmer tone, "Yes."
Shuuhei clucked. "You know," he said, a hint of amusement creeping back into his tone. "I heard from somewhere that the Kuchiki clan had been waiting for a chance to get rid of a certain stray…" He let his sentence trail off, knowing full well what it would do to the redhead.
Renji's blood ran cold at the not-so-thinly veiled threat. "Fuck you," he breathed into the phone. He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. He should've known that Shuuhei would use that against him again. Ichigo's bright, smiling eyes came into his mind, and he balled his free hand into a fist.
Over the line, Shuuhei was chuckling. "You wish," he said. When Renji didn't reply, he asked softly, "So, what will it be, Renji?"
Renji's breath hitched. A pair of sharp grey eyes appeared unbidden in his mind, the gaze holding a generous dose of disdain. Even though it was just his imagination, Renji couldn't stop the shudder that coursed through his body. He bit his lip in frustration, so distracted that he didn't even feel the sting when his skin broke. As Shuuhei began to hum on his end, Renji hung his head.
"Friday. Bricktop. Ten o'clock."
Ichigo looked around the Jazz club, taking in the sights and smells, and not to mention the light, relaxing melody floating around them. This place was so much classier than The Academy. There were no sweaty, writhing bodies here, no offending whiffs of weed, no mind-jarring roar of music that threatened to make his ears bleed.
"I wonder if Starrk knows about this place," Ichigo wondered out loud.
Renji shrugged. He knew that Starrk was Ichigo's roommate, but he had only gotten fleeting glimpses of the older man so far. Most of the time, the man was either not in the room, or, if he was in the room, nestled in his sheets sleeping. Renji was jittery, his heart and brain racing at a hundred miles per hour. To be honest, he was surprised that Ichigo hadn't noticed his odd behavior yet.
Renji glanced at his watch - nine forty.
Twenty minutes. He still had twenty minutes to change his mind. He had never felt so torn in his life. Tonight was a turning point; whether it was be for him or Ichigo depended on what he would do within this twenty minutes. He could still bail, take Ichigo home, but every time he tried to make himself stand up, his heart would seize up, and his resolve would crumble.
In the meantime, Ichigo was oblivious to his friend's inner turmoil. The music was getting really good, the live band had just launched into a new piece, and all his attention was on the middle-aged female vocalist, who sounded like she belonged in a major recording studio instead of a small Jazz bar like Bricktop.
Nine fifty.
Renji was beginning to sweat. His palms were cold and clammy, his mouth dry. He wondered if he would end up passing out before ten o'clock. Maybe that would solve everyone's problem. If he collapsed now, maybe the ambulance and all the fuss would cut the night short and-
A hand landed on his shoulder from behind. Renji froze, then his eyes slid closed. He recognized that touch even through his jacket.
"What a coincidence!" Even if he didn't recognize the hand, Shuuhei's voice was unmistakable.
Renji blew out a shaky breath and opened his eyes.
Ichigo was looking at Shuuhei with a polite smile. Renji thought he caught a slight frown on the boy's face, but he couldn't be sure in this dim, supposedly-romantic lighting.
After taking a few more deep breaths, Renji finally found his voice to say, "Ichigo, this is my friend Shuuhei. Shuuhei, this is Ichigo."
At the mention of Shuuhei's name, Ichigo's eyes widened slightly. "I've met you before!" he said, pointing a finger at Shuuhei.
The dark-haired man grinned and offered his hand to Ichigo. "Hello! Glad to hear that you remember me! How have you been?"
As Renji watched the two of them chat, he closed his eyes again and buried his face in his palms. Here he was, about to betray someone who obviously trusted him. He heard Ichigo laugh at something Shuuhei said, and the laughter tore at his heart. Ichigo always sounded younger when he was happy. Renji breathed through his mouth, making his already-dry throat hurt even more.
He couldn't do this.
Renji looked up to tell Ichigo that they should leave, only to see that Ichigo wasn't at the table.
Shuuhei smiled at him, and Renji shuddered at the coldness in the man's eyes. "Our little friend went to the restroom," Shuuhei said.
Renji began to stand up, but Shuuhei immediately grabbed his wrist. "Where are you going?"
"What, I can't pee now?" Renji asked darkly.
Shuuhei chuckled. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he said, laughing. "It's too late, Ren." He opened his palm and showed the redhead a small, empty plastic baggie, then he raised his eyebrows and gestured to the glass of iced Coke at Ichigo's spot.
Renji groaned. Not again.
Shuuhei leaned forward and whispered in Renji's ear, "I'm sure the Kuchiki clan wouldn't want to know about…"
Renji was so frustrated that he wanted to flip the table over, but all he could do was make a choking sound in his throat and tighten his fists. Then, Shuuhei let go of him abruptly, and Ichigo slid back into his chair. Renji straightened up just in time to see Ichigo bring his glass to his lips and finish his drink.
Renji held Ichigo's hand tightly as the boy lay motionless in his lap, his body swaying occasionally when Shuuhei drove over a bump. Renji felt like crying, but his eyes remained dry. They were on the way to Shuuhei's house. Unlike Renji, he lived in a nice, decent-sized single family home.
This time, it had taken only ten minutes for the drug to hit Ichigo. As soon as his body began to lean towards Renji, Shuuhei had gripped his arm and pulled him to his feet. The only reason Renji stayed with Ichigo was to make sure that he would be safely returned to his dorm. Now, as Renji looked down at Ichigo's closed eyes, he wanted to laugh at the irony. Not too long ago, he had been the one to take advantage of the boy, bringing him home when he was pissed drunk. How the tides had turned.
The car finally stopped, and before Renji knew it, the door was yanked open, and Shuuhei stuck his head in. "Ready to take sleeping beauty upstairs?"
Renji gritted his teeth and stepped out of the car. Between the two of them, they managed to carry the unconscious young man from the car to Shuuhei's bedroom, where he was dumped unceremoniously onto the King sized bed. Ichigo stirred weakly as Shuuhei rolled him onto his back, but his eyes remained closed.
"Why don't you take me instead?" Renji whispered, grabbing hold of Shuuhei's arm. "You can do anything. Anything you want, even the things that I used to refuse."
Shuuhei stared at him for a few seconds, and then slowly peeled his fingers off of his bicep. "But I don't want to fuck you," he said coldly. He went to a cupboard and pulled a drawer open.
Renji clenched his jaw as he recognized the array of items inside. He'd been in this very room before, many times. He knew exactly what was stored in that drawer. He watched numbly as Shuuhei pulled out a pair of handcuffs, followed by a piece of scarf. Renji's stomach sank.
Shuuhei padded over to his bed. He pulled Ichigo's arms above his head and cuffed the wrists together, then he gently nudged Ichigo's lips apart and tied the scarf around the boy's head, tucking part of the cloth inside his mouth to form a light gag. Satisfied with his handiwork, Shuuhei began to undress.
Renji staggered backwards until his back pressed against the wall. He didn't want to watch this, but he couldn't not watch. He had to make sure that Shuuhei didn't hurt Ichigo. Once again, he was struck by the irony of it all. He was the one who handed Ichigo over to Shuuhei in a silver platter, yet here he was, wanting to make sure that the boy would be safe. It didn't make sense at all.
Ichigo's first muffled moan nearly made Renji's knees buckle. Unlike before, Shuuhei didn't seem to care if he left any marks on the boy's body this time.
"Don't hurt him," Renji croaked, feeling bile rise in his throat. "Please."
Shuuhei looked at him and laughed. "You were the one who introduced him to me, remember?" Then, to spite the redhead, he drove himself deeper into the boy and grinned when Renji paled.
"It's going to be a long night, Ren," Shuuhei said almost soothingly. "Make yourself comfortable."
To be continued...