Chapter 2

Ichigo sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time tonight. The stars were out, and the moon was shining so brightly it reflected in Ichigo's chocolate colored eyes. The orangette couldn't concentrate on the beautiful outside world simply because he was extreamly worried about Shiro, who was currently out on a job with his gang somewhere in the city. What they were doing, Ichigo didn't know. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to know in the first place. Shiro's secret life was private, and Ichigo only got to witness a part of it. The medical part that is.

It was almost midnight when Ichigo noticed Shiro's car pull into the driveway. Most of the other maid's and servants were gone by now, so Ichigo was here all by himself. Ichigo's heart was pounding faster as he heard the faint sound of the fount steps being climbed slowly. Shiro was alive! Maybe he was hurt, but he was defiantly alive! Ichigo wanted to scream with joy, but he stood and bowed as deeply as he could when the door opened and Shiro's body stepped inside.

Shiro was covered in sweat, and his shirt was torn in a few places. Some blood had started to seep through the white material of his tee shirt, and Ichigo's mind automatically kicked into medical overdrive. This adrenalin is what he lived for.

"Hey fag."

Ichigo's heart clenched painfully at the name, but he didn't show his hurt. Instead he came over to his master quickly with a large first aid kit in hand, and bowed once again.

"Yes, Master?" His voice wavered a bit, but Ichigo didn't think Shiro would hear the slip up. He didn't.

"You're so disgusting. Why are you even alive, you fag." Ichigo opened his mouth, but closed it. There was nothing he could say to Shiro, and even if he did say something, Shiro would just fire him and kick Ichigo out. The orangette didn't want to leave, no matter what, so he stayed quiet and took the abuse.

Ichigo's fingers were shaking slightly as he opened the clasps on the plastic medical kit. He unbuckled the plastic clasps as quickly as he could, and took out some rubbing alcohol and ointment to clean the fresh cuts that were now littering Shiro's perfect body. Ichigo had only just started to pour some of the alcohol onto a rag when Shiro started to get furious at nothing in particular.

Shiro reached down and slapped the alcohol bottle out of Ichigo's hands, sending the once full bottle flying through the air, and spilling its contents all over the wooden flooring. Ichigo gasped and looked at his master while the bottle continued to empty out, a large puddle starting to form where the bottle laid.

"M-Maste-" Ichigo started to say, but was cut off as Shiro's fist connected roughly with his face. Ichigo whimpered at the rough blow, but he stayed in the same position he was previously in. Even though Ichigo was submissive to Shiro, he wasn't going to start crying or some shit like that. Ichigo could take a punch, even though sometimes he acted like he couldn't.

"Look at tha' mess ya made. Clean it up."

Ichigo looked up at his master through his bangs to see what kind of expression his master could possibly be making at a time like this. Shiro was smirking.

Ichigo shook a little as he stood up and walked quickly to the large spill with a medium-sized rag in his hands. Shiro laughed as Ichigo picked the bottle up and soaked up the strong smelling liquid, his lithe body still shaking in fear and nervousness. By now Ichigo's normally perfect face was showing signs of the punch, his left cheek swollen and starting to bruise painfully. Ichigo was so frustrated with himself, why did he have to be such a horrible servant? He wasn't asked to do much, but still he displeased his master so much.

"I'm sorry for all the distress I have caused you, Master." Ichigo spoke as clearly as he could after cleaning up with alcohol mess. Ichigo was bowing at the pale man's feet, trying to apologize for being so wrong. Apologizing for messing everything up, and most of all, he apologized for not being able to be what Shiro wanted him to be. Shiro just laughed some more.

"Hey Ichi." Shiro called out to the man at his feet. Ichigo's head lifted and their eyes connected, but Shiro couldn't take it. Ichigo looked so innocent and soft, and Shiro couldn't stand to look at it. Ichigo himself disgusted Shiro. It was really rather sad.

Ichigo waited for Shiro to say something, and his gut was telling him that this wasn't going to end up well. It didn't.

Shiro grabbed Ichigo up by his short orange hair and held him so that they were face to face. Ichigo's face twisted in agony, and Shiro was just blank. His feelings were really messed up at the moment, and the only thing he could think to do was..well, take it out on his gay servant.

The room seemed to get darker as Shiro finally noticed the large tears rolling quickly down Ichigo's tan face. It was a horrible sight to see; Ichigo's swollen tear streaked face. It would probably be stuck in his mind forever, no matter how hand he tried to erase it. Shiro painfully released Ichigo's soft hair, his body crumbeled to the floor painfully.

"Ow..." Ichigo whimpered as his head cracked against the floor. His vision seemed to blur for a moment, before focusing back in on the person in front of him.

"Shiro..." Ichigo whispered to the figure.

"Don't you dare say my name! Don't you dare!"

Shiro walked over to the poor downed man on the ground, and kicked him in the stomach before turning to walk off. Ichigo gasped as the foot connected with the tender muscles in his abdomen, and more tears leaked out because of the pain. Everything on his body hurt, and everything in his mind hurt just as much. Shiro probably didn't even know what kind of harm he was causing Ichigo... but it was too late.

Ichigo fell asleep on the floor where he had fallen at, still covered in his tears and blood until morning.