I'm in love with a delinquent
Chapter two.
Disclaimers: I don't own Bleach.
Warnings: Language, sexual content.
Ah, first of all, I would like to thank those who reviewed, followed, and favorited this and my other story! It really makes me happy to see because I wasn't sure if this story would sell or not. Also, I want to give a fair warning, this will not necessarily be a happy story. ;u; I'll try and give you a little comedy and fluff relief though~
Ulquiorra sighed, leaning back against a set of lockers nearby the boy's changing room. This area of school was normally secluded around this time of day, as all the other students were running to their lockers and to their buses, which left him without a pest to bother him as he further scolded himself.
He had never let another person get under his skin before. And the fact that he turned so quickly on someone he didn't even know personally shocked him a little.
Grimmjow's words rang in his ears again.
What, Ulquiorra, will daddy give you a stern talking to and maybe a damn spankin' if you don't bow down to the higher fuckin' society?"
Ulquiorra closed his eyes, desperately trying to fight back the sudden rush of emotion that smacked him brutally.
"If only you knew, Jeagerjaques…"
"Well, well, what do we have here?"
Emerald eyes snapped open immediately, turning to find a pink-haired man with a friend that towered over both of them by more than a few inches.
"Szayel… Nnoitra…" Ulquiorra acknowledged their presence cautiously, if not dully so. "What do you want?"
Nnoitra snorted at him, taking a few steps forward in his general direction - for any normal person, he wouldn't be invading his personal space right now. However, Nnoitra had long, lanky limbs, including his legs, and he crossed the space between them with no problem whatsoever.
"This is our territory, dipshit." He spat.
"You can't claim areas of public property, Neanderthal."
Szayel giggled at him, running a hand through his hair, his golden eyes sharp as he scrutinized him.
"Ulquiorra-kun, I would think twice about insulting Nnoi-kun if I were you.. His temper isn't really the best, you see…"
Ulquiorra knew he was right. Nnoitra Gilga had quite the record. He'd been locked up for theft, vandalism, and rape. The only reason he was even out now was because he turned eighteen and was granted the right to finally have an education. The saddest thing of it all, really, was that he was merely a junior. But alas, that was the year before in which he was released, which made him nineteen now.
Nnoitra posed a definite threat, but so did Szayelapporo Grantz. He wasn't one to underestimate as some pansy boy by his pink hair. He was extremely smart - perhaps even smarter than Ulquiorra himself, and he was heading towards a degree in science. The kind that involved cutting people apart into tiny pieces. But if the rumors about the boy were true, he already begun doing that far back when he met Nnoitra last year.
The thought of being in a secluded area like this, with no way out and no one to save him, absolutely terrified Ulquiorra. But he had his pride to maintain, and he wasn't about to let two delinquents scare him so easily.
"I'm not afraid of trash like you." He deadpanned, his gaze unwavering as he stared at Nnoitra's scowling face.
The man grinned at him, forcefully slamming a hand into the lockers behind him, trying to jar a response from him, scare him. However, it didn't have the same effect earlier as it did with Grimmjow. Ulquiorra hadn't flinched, he didn't even bat an eye.
"What do you suppose we should do to this ignorant brat, Szayel?"
"Ah… I'm surprised a brute like you knows such a sophisticated word." Came Ulquiorra's input, which received a volatile response from Nnoitra. A hand gripped his jaw with bruising force, making the petite boy wince and squirm in an attempt to get out of the man's strict grip on him.
"I could find about a thousand better things for your mouth to do than insult me like that, brat. So don't push your luck."
Szayel stepped foreword then, his yellow eyes surveying him closely. "Nee, isn't his daddy the rich one? The one so stacked full of money that it's spilling out of his pockets?" He paused for a split second, though his questions were obviously rhetorical, as he didn't wait for an actual response before he continued talking. "Do you think we'd be on the news for a few days if we beat him up? Gave him a few scars?"
He'd heard these kind of talks a countless amount of times… People had often approached him, took advantage of his petite stature, and tried to use him to their own benefit to gain a upper hand on his diplomatic father.
They were relentless, really… But Ulquiorra had a strong will and refused to buckle under to anyone.
"Or… Would we become famous for being the ones to take his virtue? To scar him so deeply he'd become a frightened doll for the rest of his life?"
That got his attention rather quickly. He tried to jerk to his left, as that was quite literally Nnoitra's blind spot, and get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. But the seven foot man was a lot faster than he had originally anticipated. His thin, but large hands grappled onto his arms and slammed him back against the lockers, forcing a grimace from the pale boy.
"You aren't going anywhere." He sneered.
"Ahh, he is quite the pretty boy, isn't he?" Szayel chipped up. "You could easily be mistaken for a girl, do you know that, Ulquiorra-kun? In fact, as my preferences might be a little questionable, I'm sure even Nnoi-kun wouldn't have a problem with you. Nee, Nnoi-kun?"
"Geez… Cut out that disgusting shit, will ya?"
"You don't think the cameras will see you do this? You'll get expelled and arrested again." Ulquiorra retorted, trying to quell the fear rising in his gut.
"Silly boy," Szayel tsked, "There aren't cameras near the changing rooms. If students saw them, knew about them, this school would be sewed so quickly you'd get whiplash. Besides, I've checked more than a few times. If the faculty found out about what we've been doing here, we'd have been expelled a long time ago."
It was then that he felt fingers working impatiently at the button of his jeans, and he snapped immediately to attention, kicking out and shouting in sudden and extreme panic.
Nnoitra cackled at him, glee alighting his rusty eyes. "Look at this, Szayel, we've got a fighter here." Hands tugged his jeans away, despite his own franticness that desperately tried so vainly to keep them on his person.
Szayel kneeled down beside him and smirked, flicking a switchblade absently in his hands, dangerously close to his now bare thighs. "Are you really sure that you want to fight it, Ulquiorra-kun? You'll only get banged up a bit more you know…"
"I'd gladly get a few cuts and bruises if it meant that I could get out of here." He retorted bitingly, kicking out again, and this time, managing to catch Nnoitra in the gut.
"Fuck!" He cursed, wheeling backwards. "Cut the bitch, Szayel!"
Szayel was quick, his spindly arms trapping his shoulders within their hold and shoving him down onto the concrete floor. Then one of his hands moved to tug ruthlessly on the roots of his hair, the other welded the blade across the inside of his thigh.
Ulquiorra winced, gasping in pain. The wound itself wasn't all that deep, as it barely bleed at all, but that didn't mean it stung any less.
Two pairs of hands held him down. They tore away his clothes, his dignity. Ran down his body. Touched where ever and whatever they wanted.
Tears blurred his vision, but he refused to let them fall, even through the mirth he could distinguish on their expressions. The sick bastards were enjoying themselves while Ulquiorra was so terrified that he couldn't even think straight. He could only register the fear, the anxiety that wracked his senses. It stunned him, paralyzed him to the point where he couldn't manage to make his appendages cooperate with him anymore. His mind screamed at him to fight, to at least do something, but his body refused to obey his wishes. It didn't budge.
It was just like home.
"Stop… Please, stop…" His voice croaked. He was barely able to get the words out past his sudden sobbing. The mere fact that he was reduced to such a pitiful state disgusted him. Crying was absolutely not allowed in his house hold. If you cried, you were weak. You deserved what was handed to you, and the next time it happened, you deserved it tenfold.
They weren't even listening to him. They conversed amongst themselves, saying things like, "Which one of us should get him first?" and "How badly should we mess him up?"
"What else should we do to him?"
"How many times do we rape him is the important question, hahaha!"
"I don't know. Personally, I'm getting a little bothered with the tears streaming down his face."
"I know! Who would've thought that the emotionless little brat was capable of crying?"
The rest of their words were vulgar, insulting, and shattering to whatever remaining dignity the boy had left.
Those invasive hands went south, probing at his ass and spreading his legs apart.
It was at this point that Ulquiorra's panic intensified; his nails clawed at his assaulters, he writhed, he screamed out, he cried until his throat was raw and sore, but they were relentless. They merely laughed jovially at him, and those comments returned. The ones that picked and pressed at his will, targeted his weak points.
As the realization smacked him so brutally, he went limp, blinded by the fear that choked him, his sobs slipping out in simple whimpers now.
One thing continuously happened to Ulquiorra Schiffer.
He was abused.
He fought.
His efforts were nullified and ignored as the abuse continued.
So he gave up trying to fight against it.
And he hated himself for it.
When he regained consciousness, he was still in the hallway, lying on his side. He was sluggish in regaining his senses, as he normally was. Nnoitra and Szayel were gone. He was fully clothed. Sore. And there was a hand running through his hair.
Ulquiorra jerked upright, shoving the stranger away immediately, barely managing to stifle the scream he felt building up within his core. He turned sharply to find Grimmjow Jeagerjaques staring blankly back at him. He could practically read the sympathy smothered all over his expression. It disgusted him to points where he felt he could physically vomit.
"They won't touch you again…" He muttered. "I made sure of it… I… I barely got here in time to stop them. I'm sorry, Ulquiorra. I should have gotten here sooner… They never should have even laid a finger on you."
A moment of silence flew by as the petite male stared at the floor, seeming as if he was unable to register even that much after his bout of trauma.
"…Why did you save me?" His voice was still hoarse, but that much was to be expected. "Don't you hate me?"
"Even if I did hate you, no one deserves that." Grimmjow told him. "I told the faculty. They escorted those thugs out of school, and your parents should be here soon." When Ulquiorra stiffened, he quickly corrected himself, "I just told them that they bullied you, not that they tried to rape you. I didn't want to sully your reputation with your family."
Ulquiorra nodded, and Grimmjow nodded back at him lamely, unaware of what else to do in a situation like this. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, he was interrupted.
"Ulquiorra!"
At the mention of his name, the raven-haired boy glanced up to practically see a copy of himself running towards him.
Despite long raven locks that came to a halt at his waist, and the fact that he was a good few inches taller than his junior, Murcielago might as well have been his twin. But there was also the factor that he was four years older to consider.
His older brother scooped him up in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest, further ignoring his winces as he buried his face into his shoulder. "I was so worried when they told me what happened… Thank God, you're alright…"
"I'm cut up a bit. Got a few bruises. Barely escaped rape. I don't know if 'alright' is the right word to use." The boy deadpanned.
Murcielago pulled away enough to look his brother in the eye, his green eyes intense as he said, "But they didn't rape you, Ulquiorra… That's all that matters right now. Now… Now you're okay."
Ulquiorra didn't say anything after that. He didn't reply to his beloved brother merely because he almost couldn't. After his terrifying experience, he was left numb, and he was afraid that if he did speak about the incident again, he might relapse into another panic attack. That was the last thing he wanted right now.
"Let's just get you home…"
Ah… Yet another thing he didn't want…