A/N: I'm being naughty. I haven't posted my Pokémon chapter as of yet and I probably have homework I've forgotten about.

Thank you all for your amazingly spectacular reviews! I've got the gears turning…sort of. Insert new character perspective.

Onwards.

Chapter Six

Data Venia

Ichigo escaped back to the dance floor, escaped being used heavily. The kitchen was full of loud, destructive men (and a few women, surely) heartily partaking in the festivities. The term B.Y.O.B was easily dismissed as more and more people found Nnoitra's stash, and a few others'. The smell of alcohol wafted into the dance floor where everything had either gotten far out of control or had turned into the exact thing Ichigo thought it would become. Maybe he expected both. As long as he didn't see any more skin that public decency laws would allow he couldn't get upset. He saw that clone of his slink off into the kitchen like a freakish Albanese snake, slithering along with some sick thought on the mind. Speaking of sick thoughts…

Ichigo felt drunk. Absolutely overcome with a flurry of slurred thoughts and emotions that wouldn't normally come from him. He wouldn't say it was necessary girly to be obsessing over this sort of thing but it bothered the hell out of him. He was drunk with the thoughts of the broad-shouldered junior in the pantry. He was drunk with the feeling of rough hands suddenly on him, then chapped, skilled lips over his own. It was disorientating. He was amazed he'd been able to move as the door opened…or maybe it was Grimmjow throwing him back that really shook him out of the stupor. Or Ulquiorra's dry, continually sour expression.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, going back to the couch he'd previously occupied with his red-haired companion. He was still there, Shuu and the others having gone on towards the better times in the kitchen. Renji looked over at Ichigo as a glass shattered in the next room.

"Hey, what's got you spooked?" Ichigo nearly jumped, rubbing the back of his neck with his clammy hand.

"Spooked? I'm alright. Don't go in the kitchen, it's seriously getting nuts in there." Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow, reading something in his friend but got to his feet.

"Well maybe I should check it out, yeah?"

"Ah…okay, I think I'm gonna head home now. I need to take Karin to her practice tomorrow." Renji turned back to the orange-haired male who gave a convincing smile. He sighed, checking the time. It was nearly one in the morning. Ichigo was usually awake until two or three, and Karin's practice wasn't until noon. He just wanted out of this enormous and suffocating house.

"C'mon Ichi, just for a bit? I don't trust my baby girl walking home all by herself." He put his arm around Ichigo's shoulder and soon got a punch to the abdomen.

"Fine, you can check the kitchen and then we are out of here." Ichigo said with a grain of salt. He didn't want to go in the kitchen. Drunken people were dangerous, or at least that's what he gathered from this group. The kitchen lights were dimmed, that or one of the bulbs had broken earlier and this was the remaining light source. Shinji was reclining on the marble counter top that had empty two-liters and cans, as well as cardboard cases of various booze. Next to him Jiruga was sitting on a stool, half slouched onto the table as his body was too long for the short counter. Ichigo vaguely noticed Grimmjow's presence across the room, having a conversation with the two boys in his gym class that had even more vulgar dispositions than himself. The blond kid—Roy, he remembered—was giggling like a toddler as he had a drink in his hand, surely not old enough for it but what in this house was legal tonight. He wished Ulquiorra's bed sheets well.

Renji maneuvered through the throngs of students to see Shuu and the bald kid, exchanging a few words until the black-haired man with a peculiar tattoo on his cheek (Ichigo just noticed) put his arm around Renji's shoulders. The group laughed, continuing a conversation as Renji had been sucked into the delirious talk. Sighing, Ichigo let them meander around their corner of the room while trying to avoid both them and the other groups that were impeding on the other's territory.

"Yoichi!" Ichigo's ears perked only slightly until a force nearly kicked the breath out of him, someone having nearly leapt onto his back. Not making such a fine jump the other insisted on hanging by Ichigo's shoulders. Giving a disgruntled groan and straightening himself, he pulled albino hands off of him and gave a glare to the black sclera eyed duplicate. It only took a second for Ichigo to realize he hadn't been called Yoichi but instead the other's speech was so fast it was a greeting.

"Shiro, what're you doing?" He grumbled, feeling ridiculous for practically lifting his equal back into a standing position. Shiro gave a near-yellow grin, waving an unopened dewy can in front of Ichigo's face.

"Ya looked bored so I came 'round to save the night!" God Ichigo hoped the one thing they didn't have in common was their voices. His own couldn't be that high-pitched and skin crawling, could it?

"I don't drink, Shiro." Ichigo stated clearly and venomously, still getting the can put in his hand firmly, Shiro giving the back of his hand a pat before scampering away. It was hardly a scamper as a stool nearly took him out on the way back to the counter. He was drunk off his rocker and Ichigo couldn't understand how he could drink so much in that short time he hadn't seen him. The watery sensation in his hand started to tingle with coolness, glancing back at the can as it heated up in his cleanched fist he hadn't realized was so tight.

Ichigo glanced back at where Shiro was currently, as it appeared, trying to pull off Grimmjow's shirt until getting a swift punch in the jaw. Grimmjow was hurriedly pushed out of the kitchen by Jiruga and the hysterically laughing Shiro for some reason or another. He placed the can back on another kitchen countertop, staying away from the roughhousing that would ultimately lead to more spilt beer and broken light bulbs. He sighed, eying the dance floor as a familiar tune ran through his head. He didn't think too much of it. He got out of the way as a hand took another can from a box, a frown on his visage aimed at it but he was off as soon as he entered. Well he sure looked pissed, maybe he'd gotten pranke with that sort of hair color. He looked back at Renji, back to where the trio was disappearing to out in the living room. He averted his eyes quickly, seeing a bit too much—Enough was enough. He walked back to the laughing seniors and promptly tore Renji out from under the arm of the large breasted woman that still looked incredibly familiar.

"Renji, let's go." The red-head sighed, giving a short nod regardless and told his friend he'd see them on Monday. Ichigo herded Renji out through the quickest route and avoided the pair Ichigo had been set off by. Ichigo had a right mind to cover his ears from the noise that was being created, but didn't look back to the dance floor.

"What's bothering you now, Berry?" Renji was dragging his feet, slowing the dragging process for mere satisfaction at how unhinged his friend was getting. Receiving a sharp amber glare made his footsteps turn regular again.

"Well I've seen enough when my duplicate gives me beer and proceeds to strip everyone in the room, and when I see enough freakish people sucking face in a living room," Ichigo shut the door of the house, the smell of alcohol lingering on their clothes and wafting out the windows. It was so much cooler and open outside, allowing Ichigo to take a deep cleansing breath he needed. "That was ridiculous."

"Well, Matsumoto-sensei was having a wonderful time." Renji chuckled at Ichigo's shocked expression as they exited the gold gates of the estate.

"That was the teacher that accuses you of…how'd she get here?"

"I dunno, maybe Ikkaku invited her. Who cares, she likes drinking and won't report Yorra." Ichigo nearly cringed again as his friend was picking up more nicknames for the short Hueco.

"Yeah, right."

"So what's got the stick up yer ass now, just everyone trying to get you to drink?"

"That among other things" Ichigo replied coolly, feeling Renji's stare on him soon enough. "It's nothing; it was just getting too wild for me in there."

"Still it was some party. I hope he has another one. Would ya go? Even for a bit?" Renji prodded, pulling his hoodie back over his shoulders. Ichigo bit the inside of his lip a little in thought, he hadn't thought of that prospect, he was more-so concerned about how he'd survive on Monday when he had class with all these people (except Shiro, of course). He shuddered at the thought of Algebra class and his partner…oh gods that already felt unbearable.

"Yeah, I'd go."

He hoped and prayed the bluenet would simply forget this ever happened. He vaguely wondered if that was what he really wanted.

Szayel was nearly drumming his fingers to the beat of his own mind concocting his plan of action. Oh, things were just going swimmingly. That was only half-sarcastic; he made a mental note, as he was already in the company of his chemistry partner Ishida Uryuu. Honestly, this guy was as resilient as a cockroach was to nuclear explosions. Sure he'd told a little white lie but he was human, even if his ideas were brilliant. Szayel Aporro was never one to give up easily, though he must say he had a habit of pouting a while before continuing his plans—which was why he was seated in the kitchen listening to such drunken drivel.

The Hueco students were a part of his old circle back in the single high school. He wouldn't call it friendship (Szayel was more one to keep his enemies close and friends out of his mindset completely) considering all of the boys were younger than he. The well-built bluenet served as a wonderful conversation piece with his animalistic tendencies and ruthlessness when provoked. The short Ulquiorra who had invited him to his event was probably the closest he'd have to an actual friend. He showed absolutely no external emotion or expression on his pallid features and his tone followed the same. He was a fascinating find indeed. The lanky snake was much less the case. Szayel despised that skinny freak—yes, Szayel calling him a freak! He'd had the unfortunate run-in as Nnoitra teamed himself up with Szayel: brains with the brawn, as it could be classified, and then stabbed him in the back. Nnoitra got what he wanted and was relentless to his now ex-partner.

A little bit inside Szayel missed Nnoitra. The little bit that was being murdered with various medical appliances at a flick of his wrist.

There were, of course, many other acquaintances he knew just from these three. Shinji, for example, though he had the habit of getting too close and being a bother to Szayel's internal monologues. Shiro, for another, had been quite interesting until Szayel had documented all of his medical conditions in a simple white folder. His friends got dull, though useful. That's why he needed Ishida. He was younger, indeed, but not as savage as these other young men. He was smart—nearly matching Szayel's own intellect, a rare find indeed. But he had a great many flaws, such as: being as antisocial as he sometimes thought of himself as, an easily provoked personality, and an unconditional love of sewing over science. He would need to document a lot on that last one to even fathom how it could be so entertaining.

Oh, yes, a bit off topic. If Szayel was being halfway sarcastic, then what was the bright side? He had a plan, of course. And it was already in the making. Upon his arrival he'd been displeased with the fact Nnoitra was not present. The one time he needed that stupid traitor he was absent. Now his experiment had grape soda and that was upsetting him already with his sour disposition of not wanting to be there. Szayel glanced into the living room, bemused to see him still on that chair in the corner. He'd been lucky enough to witness Cirucci try and interact with him and had inner glee with the stupid girl's failure. She was dropping her standards, or perhaps trying to get Szayel's own attention.

Yes, Cirucci had a thing for Szayel. Unacceptable. The flouncy, double helix haired girl sickened the scientist at a single thought. It interested him enough where he'd make his own experiment to figure out what was wrong with her head for constantly bothering him. He was smart enough to avoid her.

Right right the plan. So now that revolting Jiruga was present with his goods Szayel was concocting a mixed drink like some sick chemistry experiment. It made him bubbly in amusement. He could hardly tell how socially awkward people could react to a party scene for the first time with him sitting in the corner like that! Honestly, did all men from Karakura reject women practically falling into their laps? He wouldn't wish that upon the innocent bespectacled sophomore, anyhow. The current experiment: see how fast you can get someone drunk out of their mind.

It would be a challenge, surely. Szayel was ready though, and he knew for sure it was a good idea when the occupants of the room started getting a distance from him. That usually meant the sadistic grin on his face was at its peak. Sadistic…what a wondrous word to use for the senior-leveled student scientist.

"Hey Pinky, did you use the last of my fuckin' tequila?" Nnoitra approached on his personal space, and he looked even more crazed, even if he'd only been buzzed. Szayel's amber eyes slid over in his direction, having to shift the narrowed gaze upwards, his sadistic smirk sinking. Nnoitra's dark eyes looked violet in the dim lighting; his lips pursed shut for the first time in a while. Szayel said nothing for a good 2 seconds, long enough to see the prominent Adam's apple bob, swallowing the bit of fear. Szayel's eyes hid behind his glasses again, peering into his concoction as if it were a Petri dish.

"I did, now get out of my sight, you bent spoon."

Szayel completed his mixed drink (he made sure it had the same scent and look as grape soda, whether the taste was close enough or not was a bargain) while he took another drink for himself, non-tampered. Nnoitra glided away, keeping his eyes on the scientist as he seethed like a cobra that got outshined by the mongoose. Szayel recalled their previous years, when a white sweater pulled over Jiruga's long face made him look like a glistening spoon and it riled him every time. He ignored the stares in his back, striding out into the living room he grinned down at his newest disciple.

"Well, that was interesting to see, yes? Cirucci isn't that much of a witch, is she?" Yes, she was, he idly thought even if it was a joke about her last name. Ishida's eyes snapped back to attention to the looming, pink-haired man.

"I'm not interested if that's what you're getting at."

"Oh, surely not! She just likes to make friends, I suppose," he took a seat in a chair near the other that had already been moved out of his wide personal bubble. Szayel casually offered the second drink to Ishida as he turned up his nose.

"What, now you're saying you're not interested in any more soda?" Szayel took a drink of his own, even if he particularly didn't enjoy the carbonation. His lips split into a grin over the lip of the red cup as Ishida took the second drink, a scowl on his face. Szayel quickly rid his successful visage as he took another drink, gagging down the heavily sugar-concentrated drink and watched the floor. This wasn't his first party, and this one was definitely heating up. Cirucci's skirt was fluttering on the floor while she…"danced" with a few potential mates as well as a few younger girls he'd heard no good about. Menoly, Loli, that girl Orihime being dragged into their heathen-like dance. Women, honestly; how unreliable. This sort of "dance music" was about as sickening as the creatures enjoying it. Photo frames rattled from the reverberating bass, but it didn't have any lyrical value in his opinion. It was like a periodic table without atomic weight.

His honey colored eyes danced across the floor, observing another sort of dance when the song changed. Oh, how typical of Shinji to slide his wiry body into the fray and careening himself towards the stereo system. Ulquiorra's parents must really appreciate music for such an immense sound system, perhaps they were compensating for something. Regardless, Hirako let a slimy grin cover his features as upbeat whistling filled the room, and loud whoops came from the kitchen. Szayel chuckled, his instinctual urge to join in with his comrades, he knew exactly what was happening, as it wasn't the first time.

Shiro was pushing Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez into the living room, a scowl ever present while Shiro's visage was red with pure glee. Szayel Aporro joined in the group that whistled along with the recognizable tune, the music being turned so high that others' were practically drowned out. The pair had done this before, always to Grimmjow's disfavor. Just as Nnoitra had been called a colorful amount of names, the young troupe's favorite for Grimmjow was Jagger, and it suited him, because he could dance damn well. Shiro was his accompaniment, also singing along to the words in that chalky voice hoarse with drink and laughter. Shiro was good at dancing as well, well, from what Szayel had seen when he wasn't intoxicated. Normally he was off doing another sort of dance with another.

Szayel tapped his fingers against the plastic cup, hearing the clicks it made in his head whether it was audible over the decibel levels in the room. Grimmjow didn't quite seem himself; last he'd been seen at a dance he was owning the show with "I'm sexy and I know it" before "Moves like Jagger" impeded his escape. Now…oh now, Szayel would need to see how this unfolded. Aquamarine eyes were searching the room, not focusing as much on what he was doing. He was looking for something. Perhaps…

Szayel's thoughts were interrupted as a plastic cup tapped the side of his arm, jolting him from his slouched, concentrated position. Looking to his right, Ishida was handing him an empty red cup, glossy navy eyes going from Szayel to the flashing figures from the lights on the dance floor. Granz tried his best to keep a grin under wraps, taking the cup from him and stacked it under his own, nearly empty cup.

"Did you want another drink, Ishida-kun?" Szayel was almost giddy, Ishida being jolted form the pretty flashy-lights. He nodded, a bit dramatically at that. Giving another chuckle, Szayel stood and retreated back into the kitchen, pulling Nnoitra's hood off of his head on the walk by. Slinky bastard. The things he did for excitement, being a bartender at a high school party for an under-aged kid. But no science could be done with the law in question. He saw some kid with a deer-in-headlights look about him; he was probably from Ishida's class anyways. He brushed past him, slinking further into the kitchen to find something, anything, that would work faster.

Uryuu was definitely getting drunk, except Shiro had probably swigged the whole bottle of tequila and Szayel was unable to replicate his concoction. What could he find that would act as a substitute? He slunk to the back of the kitchen and perused the table. Most of the bottles were empty, or broken in the trash, while a few cans remained in the cardboard cases of various brewers. He shook his head, grabbing a simple can of Bud off the countertop, for the lack of anything else. He'd never get Ishida to drink separated purple vodka soda. Well, he might as well be frank; hoping that in this haze the young boy was in would have him believe there was nothing else left. Maybe Szayel should become a bartender when he was of age…

He exited the room and fluidly moved amongst the crowd back to his party-goers hiding corner. He stopped, shifting his eyes around as Ishida had gotten up and wandered over to the stereo, feeling like he had to change the song away from the music that also made Szayel's head pound. He shook his hair out of his eyes, Ishida slowly making his way around the room to find his corner. He looked like a lost kid, honestly. He took his seat and barely took notice of Szayel until he sat by him, dangling the can in front of him.

"They ran out of your soda." Szayel said, just enough to be heard over the music. Ishida looked it over, turning his nose away again, much more snottily. Definitely acting like a kid.

"I dun't drink, Granz.." Szayel bit back another chuckle, but pulled the can away from him, still hanging onto it.

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to." Szayel, you filthy genius. Speaking of filth, he felt air brush by his side as slender arms wrapped over his shoulders and a bouncy, silk texture brushed his cheek.

"Hey, Szayel-senpai."

"Cirucci." He resisted shaking his head, the hairspray already making his mind swirl, and he hated that feeling. This young woman was always overly decorated with makeup and product, the scent of spray trying to be masked by another body spray entitled "Sexy" by some company. Revolting was probably second on the list but it was too advanced a word to fit on the bottle. This woman baffled the daylights out of Szayel and he didn't have the nerve to risk asking her why.

"Can we have a dance, please?" She plucked the can of beer out of his hand with her painted fingers, noting it was unopened. "You don't drink, do you? Ishida-kun must, though." She looked at the black haired young man who was staring at her curiously. For all Szayel knew he could be seeing Cirucci on fire from swirling chemicals. What a wonderful prospect.

"I don't drink, lady…git off 'im." Ishida waved his hand, thoroughly dismissing the girl as her wide eyes narrowed.

"Ishida-kun, don't be rude! We can share…" Szayel couldn't resist a swallow as her hands squeezed his shoulders tighter. Ishida didn't look approving.

"He called you a witch, too. Go 'way." Szayel got a small smile as her decorated fingers pulled away from him, moving to her hips instead.

"Rude! Fine, I'll see you later, senpai." She waved her fingers, a disgusting gesture as she tromped back into the rough. Szayel shook his head, running his fingers through his cotton candy colored locks and brushing it away from his face.

"I'm surprised you took action like that, Ishida-ku—" Szayel stopped, opening his eyes again as he heard Uryuu's glasses click against his own, white plastic frames. "—n…?" Ishida smelled of grapes and fresh laundry. The entire room reeked of alcohol but the only exception was Uryuu, having repelled himself from the scent in every way. His eyes were still glossy, obviously the only part of him that had been affected by the drinking. They were faded navy and deep, like the darkest pool of water that lead to some unknown chasm.

He didn't get to look at them long as eyelids hid them and his lips brushed the others, initiating a timid kiss. Szayel's eyes were still wide behind his glasses, his hand finally dropping the beer can onto the floor as Ishida's fisted into his polo. Granz was flabbergasted…could this be part of what he was trying to witness? Experiment on? Hell with it. Throwing caution to the wind he pulled Ishida back into the kiss as he'd started to fold. He let his eyelids slide shut with Uryuu's as his hand slid onto Ishida's thigh. Ishida had no idea what he was doing, and Szayel was more than okay with taking the reins.

He kissed the younger man deeper, winning his dominance in it easily as he cupped Ishida's jaw with his other hand, it sliding around back to his neck to grip his hair. Uryuu gave a small whimper, being moved into the senior's lap as his hair was given a tug, opening his mouth further. Szayel's fingers twirled around in black hair, he wasn't used to feeling it so short…Szayel flinched a little uncomfortably, his eyes twitching open as he pulled off of the younger boy, now left without breath. Damn it, he still couldn't forget the past even if his new experiment played into his lap, literally.

Uryuu seemed just as confused, though he was continually confused with the venom through his system. Szayel cleared his throat, wiping away a blush and eying the kitchen and dance posse, hoping no one had seen the scarlet blush and loss of control. He was relieved to see everyone distracted, including a pair making a quick run for the exit. "Ishida-kun, allow me to walk you back home."

Szayel didn't let Uryuu's protests impede his movements. He pulled the dark haired sophomore to his feet and tugged him towards the door, ignoring the stares. He was practically holding the alcoholic virgin's hand down a straight path, and it certainly looked bad for him. Szayel was infamous for leaving drunks to fend for themselves—case in point, Nnoitra. They could probably manage themselves, however. Ishida: not so much. Szayel pulled the short boy outside into the fresh air, finding himself biting the inside of his lip. What had come over him? Uryuu was drunk, not in control of his actions. Szayel wasn't drunk, he was always in control!

That's what he thought, anyways.

He also thought he knew what the hell he was doing, until getting three blocks away from the enormous state he realized he didn't know where Uryuu lived, and he had a suspicion that the younger couldn't remember either. "Ishida-kun, where do you live?" He asked again, looking to his side. He was still holding his hand like a lost child, and Ishida appeared about ready to sit down for a nap. What, a sleepy drunk? He seemed pretty straight-forward when he—gah! Repeating his question got a shake of Uryuu's head as he pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Szayel had seen him do it while he was personally trying to bother him, so maybe it was a natural behavior.

"Ishida, I'm not taking you home with me. Where do you live." Szayel's voice lowered, and his voice was already pretty low. The black haired boy shook his head again, his eyes blinking becoming more infrequent and fluttery. A growl bubbled in Szayel's throat, of course he hadn't given Ishida much chance; after detention he let Ishida out of his sight and met with him back at school to walk there. He must live close-by the school, as he hadn't been dropped off in a car. That was a start, at least. He could of course save all the trouble and just take him home…but that wasn't sounding safe at all. Though, Ishida was only sixteen, if he returned home and lived with his family it wouldn't go over well in the morning. Watching the streetlamps he shook his head, taking the next turn. Perhaps this could be an excuse for studying the first hangover.

Saturday

This was the worst day of Ishida Uryuu's life.

He woke up in his disheveled school uniform, and it reeked. The smell wasn't the only thing that made his head throb. It was pounding in pain, and his eyes felt sore and sleeping longer sounded like a good plan. He finally managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see clean white sheets around him, like he was under a canopy. He pulled the blankets down, groping around until he finally felt the cool metallic of his glasses on a side table. His eyes adjusted slower than usual, making him see double for a few moments before he was able to focus his vision. The room had white walls, few decorations around it. White sheets, a desk across from the queen bed. A closet was at the foot of the bed with classic wooden doors. On the other side was another women door left slightly ajar.

This was not Ishida Uryuu's room.

He sat up suddenly, the world spinning just as suddenly and nearly made him gag. Where was he? What was going on? Why did it feel like he hadn't showered in a week? He got to his feet (he'd slept in his socks, apparently) and got his balance on the sleek carpet floor. What time was it? He looked around the bleak room and did manage to find a clock on the wall, 2:30? How could he sleep in this…wait…the big hand is the…Okay, it was 6:10. Ishida was more a morning person than a night person at regular days, so this wasn't an unusual waking time for him but why the hell did it have to be so difficult!

He ran his figners through tangled hair, licking his dry lips. What was the last thing he remembered…music, dancing, that witch girl…

Szayel Aporro.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a clattering on the other side of the half-open door, his eyes darting over to it. Curiosity getting the better of him, he went to the door that must've lead out of the bedroom of wherever he was, but he had a sneaking suspicion of where he was. He smelled bacon, much better than the stagnant smell that was deep in his olfactory center. Whatever that scent and taste was he wanted it out, something like rotten fruit at the roof of his mouth. He nearly gagged again at focusing on said taste, still heading down the hallway.

The hall was short, passing another door until it opened up to a room with a couch on matching carpet to the room, then split into laminate tiles in a kitchenette. A pan on the stove sizzled and crackled from the fat being rendered inside it, and Ishida noticed a flattop on the counter that was also preparing what appeared to be pancakes. More importantly, a tall familiar man came out from behind a cupboard door, swirling a spatula on his fingers and glanced over.

"Good morning, Ishida," his eyes were cold with no depth. Ishida swallowed slightly at the lack of end phrase that Szayel usually used on him. He opened his mouth to reply when the pink-haired man shut the cabinet with a slight, wooden clatter. "You fell asleep after the party. I had to bring you here." Curse that man for always knowing what he was about to say.

"You didn't…have to," Ishida was hoping his voice would have a bit more ungratefulness in it but it was more the opposite. "I need...to get home. Thank you." He swallowed, looking at the time while it said 6:14 instead. His father would be awake for work around 8, plenty of time to shower and do laundry and take way to many aspirin. He didn't really see Szayel nod but assumed he did, making sure he had his things, and realizing he didn't bring any with to the party. Gods his head hurt, how did he fall asleep during that mess and get such a headache?

He thought about giving Szayel another goodbye, but the other seemed more distracted than normal. Ishida hoped he liked his bacon extra crispy. That man was such a strange character. He got outside, finding the street corner of the apartment and recognizing the address. It was within decent distance of school, so he knew the general direction he had to go to reach the building, and then home from there. The walk hardly went fast while he was stuck thinking. He couldn't have gotten drunk; he didn't even go into the kitchen. That girl Cirucci was harassing him, but she couldn't really incapacitate him like that (he ventured, at least). The loud music could explain his headache, but he'd never fall asleep with that going.

His only other option was that Szayel was lying to him. He passed the school bulletin board, taking a left down the residential street. He dug in his pocket as was thankful to find his phone still there, but he'd likely have strange sleeping marks from it. He paged through it, finding Szayel's name his finger stopped short of the green calling icon. His memory wasn't serving his well at the moment, but he did remember things before midnight. He never entered his partner's phone number into his contacts. He opened the contact information, the name reading quietly stately "Szayel Aporro Granz" and the phone number. There was no picture, but his address was listed along with the apartment number. Everything in the contacts was filled out, detailed, though the business section was left blank. Ishida wouldn't be able to enter all of this in the state he must've been under the night before, until the last line on the contacts list entitle "Notes" was also filled.

Ishida swallowed, running a hand through his hair before it slid down over his face and lips. His walking faltered, reading the note aloud in a whisper. "Thanks, but no thanks."

How could he have forgotten that?

A/N: Alright, 3-4 day project right here. This may not be the most fascinating chapter, but Szayel and Ishida are among the important pairings in the story. The lesser important ones won't really be as detailed as this. I may up it to four or five. There's one pairing I'm not sure I can pull off writing as, but two I'd be willing to try.

Sorry for anyone waiting for the Pokémon chapter, I'm going to start fresh on it. I want it perfect for you all :3