Thanks for your patience, lovelies! =) I'm happy to see that all of you are worried for our favorite redhead!

Here goes...

The first thing Ichigo heard was soft rustling of cloth. He turned his head slightly, instinctively, towards the sound. Then came a voice, deep but hushed, joined soon by another. He could hear snippets, the words disjointed and unclear.

"-his vitals-"

"Blood wo-"

"-police-"

Ichigo pulled his brows together, then decided that he was too tired to try to understand what was being said. He snuggled a little deeper into the soft, warm bed, enjoying the softness and warmth of the bedding against his skin. It was comfortable here, wherever here was. If only there weren't those irritating beeping noises around him. Oh, and that smell - it stung his nose and seemed to spread into his throat, so bitter that he could almost taste it in his mouth.

"He should be awake by now."

This one he heard clearly. The voice was familiar, but he was too lazy to match it to a name in his memory bank. He just wanted to sleep, and then sleep some more. But it seemed like that was not to be. He felt a presence by his side, the warmth of a body, then whoever it was took the liberty of running his fingers through Ichigo's hair. It felt nice; it reminded him of how his late mother used to pet his head when he did well in school. Before he knew it, he was sighing, enjoying the feeling of the long digits still stroking his hair.

"Ichigo?" The hand pulled away.

Finally admitting that he could no longer pretend that he was asleep, Ichigo cracked an eye open reluctantly.

The shoulders of the man who was hovering above him relaxed visibly as the familiar face broke into a wide grin.

"Starrk," Ichigo said, recognizing his roommate even though the man looked haggard. He had never seen Starrk so worried, not even that one time when the man found him sleeping outside their dormitory.

"Ah, so good to see you awake, Kurosaki-kun," a light-hearted, singsong voice piped up behind Starrk, then Ichigo spied a shock of blond hair above Starrk's shoulder.

Ichigo didn't know the newcomer. The man had days-old stubble on the sides of his cheeks as well as his chin, giving him a grubby appearance, but the twinkle and intelligence shining in the man's grey-green eyes told Ichigo that he didn't always look like that.

"Ichigo, this is Captain Urahara," Starrk moved aside and introduced the blonde, who stuck out his hand.

Blinking in confusion, Ichigo pulled his right hand from underneath the comfortable covers and shook the police captain's hand. The only reason he knew that the man was on the police force was because of the badge that Urahara was holding up to show him, because the man was in plain clothes at the moment. Now, finally able to take in his surroundings clearer, Ichigo finally realized where he was.

"Why am I in a hospital?" he asked. He hated to admit it, but he could feel the familiar sense of panic rising in his gut. This must be it - another one those blackouts that he had been having, except this time he'd ended up in a hospital.

Starrk exchanged a look with Urahara, then they pulled up two chairs next to the bed and sat down. Ichigo didn't like the look on their faces - they looked so grim, it reminded Ichigo of how his father looked when he had to deliver bad news to his patients. What was it now? Had he finally lost his liver thanks to the obscene amount of alcohol he seemed to have consumed within the past year?

"Ichigo," Starrk began, leaning forward in his seat. Then he paused and bit his lip. There was no good way to give someone such news no matter which way he looked at it, so in the end, he said simply, "You're here because you were drugged and raped by a man called Hisagi Shuuhei."

Ichigo felt his jaw fall slack. Clearly he wasn't the only one shocked, because he saw the blond police captain turn and gape at Starrk as well, though he suspected Urahara's reaction was more because of Starrk's bluntness than the news itself.

"What?" Ichigo said reflexively. He had heard Starrk clearly, but just because he understood the words didn't mean he comprehended the situation. He shook his head and tried again. "What?"

Urahara pulled his chair closer to Ichigo's bed and quietly relayed the story, starting from the first night Ichigo met Renji to how the police arrested Shuuhei in his home. Ichigo felt himself turning cold, hot, then cold, then hot again as he finally learned the truth about what had happened to him. Never had he felt so violated and angry and helpless at the same time, and he didn't know what to do with the emotions that were welling in his chest. He bit his lip and willed himself to be strong; he wasn't going to sit there and weep like a child.

It was only at the end, when Urahara finally straightened up and stopped speaking, that Ichigo realize that he was holding Starrk's hand in his own. Crushing would probably be a better term, because by the time Ichigo let go, Starrk's palm and fingers were bright red. Starrk never made a sound, though, instead he just grasped Ichigo's hand in return and held it just tight enough to show his support.

When Ichigo finally calmed down enough to speak, he said softly, "R-renji lied."

Urahara sat back in his chair and looked at Starrk. Nodding, Starrk gave his younger roommate's hand a brief squeeze. "Yes," he said.

That was it - the final threads of control that Ichigo had been clinging on slipped. His lower lip quivered, and he bit down on it in anger, hard enough to draw blood. Anger filled his chest, both at Renji and at himself. The betrayal stung, but he knew too that it would never have happened if he had just used a little common sense. There had been so many danger signs along the way, yet he had blatantly ignored them, convincing himself that he knew what he was doing. He had been so stupid, so, so stupid.

Ichigo let go of Starrk's hand and covered his own face with both hands. Perhaps it should've bothered him that he was more upset about Renji's betrayal than what Shuuhei had done to him. Perhaps it was unhealthy, abnormal, or perhaps it just hadn't sunk in far enough for him to feel it yet. He hadn't been conscious through the ordeals after all, he had no memory of them, he didn't see it, didn't feel it.

But Renji was different - he had trusted his so-called friend so blindly, so willingly. What made him feel sicker and dumber was that, even now, he still hoped that this was all a mistake. Even after Starrk had just confirmed it, he still hoped that it was a misunderstanding.

"Can I talk to him?" Ichigo asked, his voice a little muffled behind his palms. He heard a soft exhalation of breath, then he looked up to see Urahara stand up.

"I need to go back to the station," the police captain said. He patted Starrk's shoulder a few times, gave Ichigo a smile and a nod, and walked out of the room.

As the door slowly swung closed, Ichigo was suddenly struck with a sense of foreboding. Urahara had looked uncomfortable. Something was wrong, something was wrong with Renji. Despite the disappointment and anger at his friend, Ichigo felt a rising sense of fear and worry.

"I want to see him," he said, throwing the covers off and scrambling to get down from the bed.

"Ichigo, listen to me," Starrk immediately grabbed him and forced him back.

Something in Starrk's voice made Ichigo stop wriggling, so he froze, one of his legs dangling over the side of the bed while the other still remained stretched out in front of him.

"He's dead." Starrk's voice was sorrowful but steady. "I'm sorry."

It took Ichigo a few seconds to react, and when he did, Starrk had to hold him back while he thrashed, screaming Renji's name and wailing words in Japanese that Starrk didn't understand. The tears and sobs that he'd been holding back for the past hour finally broke through his control, and they spilled into his cries, breaking his voice until he went hoarse. Everyone who walked by the room automatically covered their mouths, one or two even teared up, inevitably affected by the heartbreaking sounds coming from Ichigo.

Starrk held his younger roommate as the boy rode through his grief, only letting go when Ichigo's shoulders finally stilled.

"H-how?" Ichigo croaked, his voice reduced to a scratchy whisper.

Starrk took a deep breath and said softly, "He was shot."

"By the p-police?" Ichigo immediately asked, becoming agitated again.

"Of course not!" Starrk looked horrified. "By Shuuhei and his accomplice."

Ichigo fell back on the bed, emotionally drained all of a sudden. His head was beginning to throb, making him light-headed and dizzy. His throat hurt whenever he swallowed. He couldn't believe this was how this was going to end. He was safe now, free from Shuuhei's clutches, but at what price? Even though Renji had betrayed him, he couldn't deny that he would never be able to hate the man. He was extremely mad and disappointed, but he could never hate him.

He knew he was being irrational; the man had tossed him to the wolf after all. He should hate Renji, he should tear into him and make him pay for what he had done, he should be wishing that Renji would rot in prison and hopefully also rot in hell. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Ichigo knew exactly why - he had come to terms with his feelings ever since he realized it. He had never expressed it, and now he was left to regret his decision for the rest of his life.

Starrk could sense that Ichigo had drifted into his own world, so he stood up. The boy needed to deal with this alone; grief wasn't something he could share with Ichigo. Not when he didn't feel the same way about the person Ichigo was grieving over. He gave Ichigo's arm a brief squeeze to let him know that he was leaving, and when the boy didn't acknowledge him, Starrk turned around and walked slowly out of the room, leaving his young friend to mourn by himself.

Starrk didn't know what Ichigo saw in the redhead, but ever since the two became friends, Starrk could tell that Ichigo felt something stronger than friendship for Renji. But it wasn't his place to comment or judge, so he'd never said anything even though he had thought there was something off about the redhead all along. He'd always thought it was one-sided anyway, until that moment when he held Renji's limp hand in his own. He didn't think the redhead knew it himself either.

Renji could barely breathe on his own at the time, his mouth gradually filling with blood due to the gunshot wound that had punctured his lung. Yet the only thing he said was Ichigo's name. Even when his eyes became glassy with pain and drowsiness, all he repeated was the boy's name, and he didn't stop mumbling until Starrk told him that Ichigo was safe. He had smiled then, and then his heart stopped.

It wasn't until two months into their friendship that Ichigo began to discover the signs. At first, it was just a simple sense of excitement whenever he knew he was going to spend time with Renji. He had brushed it off as part of building a friendship - it was normal to feel happy in the company of friends, was it not? But when his heart began to beat quicker, and his cheeks started to heat up whenever Renji was physically close, even if it was a brief touch, an accidental bumping of elbows, Ichigo knew it wasn't that simple anymore.

That was when he built up the courage to ask Renji out on weekends. The idiot never indicated that he knew Ichigo's purpose, and Ichigo had been content with that for the moment. He knew they needed to move slowly anyway, get to know each other better. In retrospect, perhaps it was his subconscious telling him that he should hold back, that something was wrong.

Ichigo wasn't stupid. He knew there must be more to his "blackouts". He had never forgotten about that mysterious teeth mark on his neck, and he had an idea what could lead to soreness between his legs. Bruises on his hips, the slight burn when he walked, stiffness in his back - he had an idea what could cause them all. He didn't understand, and probably never would, why he wasn't more cautious or why he never confronted Renji about his suspicion. Perhaps he was waiting to see if Renji would one day tell him himself. Yet, what did he really want to hear? That they had slept together when they were both drunk? Would he feel better if Renji confirmed that? He didn't know, so he had shoved it to the back of his mind, again and again. Then, it seemed to have gone away; nothing happened for a long time, until now.

And even now, after finding out the truth, he could not deny it - he loved Renji.

Perhaps love was a strong word, but that was how he thought about it in his mind. Crush was too juvenile, like was too mild, so he'd always thought of it as love. He knew that it was a short time for one to develop such feelings for another; they had only known each other for a little over six months after all, but Ichigo had never been more certain about something in his life. He had thought that they had plenty of time, plenty of chances for him to tell Renji how he felt about him.

But now it was too late.

Ichigo had only grieved like this once in his life, and that was when his mother passed away when he was nine years old. He had promised himself then, that he would never be weak and never cry again, yet now he was unable to stop the silent tears that were still slowly sliding down his cheeks. He wiped them away angrily, rubbing his face until it hurt. He was glad that Starrk had the sensitivity to leave him alone, because he would die before letting anyone see him like this.

It was with Renji's smiling face in his mind that Ichigo finally drifted off into fitful slumber, mumbling and shedding unbidden tears through the night, alone in the darkness of the hospital room.

Starrk sat patiently in the plastic chair, silently surveying the uniformed guards in the sterile visiting room as he waited. He had been doing this for a while now; it was never pleasant, having to sign in, go through metal detectors, then wait for his turn in a room full of anxious friends and family members. He felt uncomfortable being surrounded by people with their emotions written so clearly on their faces, but he did this dutifully every month like clockwork until it had become almost a habit now.

The door finally swung open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in, clad in the generic neon-orange jumpsuit issued to all prisoners here. Starrk noticed and tried to ignore the expectant faces that fell at the other tables in the visiting room as the other visitors saw that it wasn't their loved one. The man was led to Starrk's table by a guard, never meeting Starrk's eyes until he was fully seated across from him.

He had lost some weight, Starrk noted. Even after seeing him so many times, Starrk still hadn't gotten used to seeing the man without his trademark ponytail, which he had chosen to cut in favor of a more practical cropped cut that was easier to maintain.

"Spring break has just started," Starrk said in his usual casual, easygoing manner. "He's going on a road trip with a couple of friends, they're leaving in two days."

The man nodded, a ghost of a smile brightening his auburn eyes.

Starrk sighed, like he'd always done during every visit. "Why do you do this to yourself, Abarai?"

Renji let out a sigh of his own and hung his head. "He needs to move on," he said softly. He had lost his loudmouthed, cocky attitude ever since they managed to resuscitate him at the scene.

He had been very lucky that day. Had Shuuhei not been distracted by the sudden appearance of Urahara's men, that third shot would've gotten him in the chest instead of simply grazing his bicep. If Starrk hadn't been there, and if Starrk hadn't insisted on having paramedics on standby at the scene despite Urahara's opinion that it was not necessary, Renji would not be sitting here right now.

"Ugh," Starrk muttered.

"This is the least I can do for him," Renji replied, as he always had whenever Starrk asked him this question. He didn't care if he sounded like a coward. Perhaps he was, hiding behind a lie, but he told himself that it was for the best. Ichigo didn't need any reminders of his traumatic experience.

When Starrk told him how Ichigo had mourned for him, Renji thought his heart would break. He certainly didn't deserve it. Despite Starrk's stance on not meddling in other people's problems, he had - more out of frustration than anything else - told Renji why Ichigo had always believed Renji even when he suspected that something was wrong. Renji never commented on it verbally, but Starrk recognized regret and affection when he saw it. He didn't know if it had been a good idea, but after that, he gave Renji a small photo of Ichigo as keepsake. The redhead had hesitated, but had accepted it in the end.

After the brief update about Ichigo, Starrk went on to chat about random things, from college football to his research, while Renji listened quietly, chuckling occasionally when Starrk said something funny with that dry sense of humor of his. Over the months, the two of them had developed a bond, connected only by the one person that they both cared deeply for, albeit in different ways.

When the allotted visiting time was over, Starrk left, knowing that the redhead would be looking forward to his next visit, if only for a small sliver of information about the boy. He didn't agree with Renji's decision, but he had already meddled enough. With a sigh, Starrk slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Perhaps Renji was right; Ichigo was still young after all, perhaps he did deserve this opportunity to move on.

To be continued...

I was actually tempted to end the chapter where Ichigo fell asleep, but then I figured that I'm not in a real hurry to go to hell. XP