Gin and Izuru approached the gate of the Kyoto cemetery with hesitation. Squinted eyes were trained solemnly on the ground, and shockingly still, spidery, spectral hands gripped a wooden box tightly. His fathers' ashes. Izuru sobered himself and prepared for long silences, letting Gin have space and the lead as they plodded into the eerily sunny cemetery. Gin had Izuru's sympathy, as Izuru was all too familiar with the crestfallen feeling that creeps up your neck as you stand or kneel before a grave, and the heaviness it places on your back as you hang your head in any number of these feelings; regret, sorrow, defeat, shame, pain, mourning, despair... Gin's chin dipped down to touch his collar, and Izuru was almost glad he couldn't see the expression on Gin's face. Not only was this visit tearing up memories of Gin's father, but also of Gin's mother.

Gin sank to his knees before his mother's, and now his father's grave, unceremoniously and deftly setting the wooden box of ashes beside the headstone. Izuru stood many yards away, studying the names on the other headstones, allowing Gin to be alone. A moment or three later, Izuru swiveled his head to gaze with blue eyes at Gin and the gently wafting incense. Gin's lips moved in a silent prayer.

Izuru felt a strange softness towards him. He imagined if this is what Gin had felt when he had watched Izuru pray for his parents at a distance, in the very beginning, before they had ever spoken to each other. To Gin, was Izuru untouchable? Pure as the driven snow? Gin looked innocent, too innocent, kneeling before his parents. Izuru turned slowly on his heel and crept to a bench, sitting down. His skin crawled with uncomfortable heat.

"There's nothin' more I can do, Izuru."

Izuru's head snapped up. Gin sniffled into his sleeve as he drug it across his face. He was facing Izuru, the distance between them still the same. "Are you finished?"

Gin nodded. His mouth was a thin, pallid line. Somehow the corners still twitched into a tiny, frigid smile.

They joined hands as they left the cemetery, Gin sniffling into his sleeve again as he rubbed his misty eyes. "Will you be okay?" Izuru asked.

Gin let himself one last dreadfully heavy sigh. He lifted his head, gulped, and beamed at Izuru. Izuru's breath caught, and he wanted to pull his hand from Gin's. "You bet." Gin remarked.

"How can you always smile like that?" Izuru demanded, then blushed and whipped his head to the side, embarrassed at his sudden outburst. "I mean-"

"Is there something wrong with my smile?" Somehow Gin kept up his grin, but his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"No, no, I- I mean, it's really pretty and I like it, but sometimes it's intimidating."

"Oh, I get it." Gin looked the opposite direction, and there was the long silence that Izuru had been anticipating. "So, do you want me to smile less often?"

"No! Not at all!" Izuru held up his free hand defensively. "I think your smile really adds to your character! But we're at a cemetery, and your dad died, and I..." Izuru trailed off, his blush creeping back onto his cheeks. "I think sometimes it creeps other people out."

"I see."

Izuru carefully inspected the pavers under his feet, and Gin squeezed his hand tightly.

"Would ya like it if I were a little less creepy?"

"I don't know, Gin, you are who you are, I guess, and I-" Gin caught Izuru in a closed-mouthed kiss, his lean arm snaking around Izuru's waist, pulling him closer. Izuru gasped when they pulled apart. "Gin, we're in public."

"Ya think I'd care?" He twined his free fingers with Izuru's."'Sides, it's not like anybody's watching."

Izuru considered it. "True," he said after a while. "I suppose we are alone." Just as he said that, a smallish boy with straight black hair parted down the middle, worried blue eyes and a cowering, hunched posture brushed past them, his shoulder ghosting along Izuru's elbow. He seemed not to mind, but Izuru bristled.

"Lighten up," Gin whispered. "Ya only live once, Izuru. Now, shall we go sight-seeing?"

Gin had suggested they go to a bar after dinner.

Izuru was beginning to wonder why he had consented to it.

Where was he, anyway? The ceiling he was staring at didn't look like the one in the hotel room they were staying in. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, looking with blurred vision to his left. There was the edge of a foreign bed with crisp white sheets, and a socked foot connected to a long leg that came from somewhere down below. Izuru peered over the edge of the bed.

Looked like Gin had gotten slammed, too. He lay on his back on the floor, the one socked foot propped on the bed, the other kicked aside, and his long arms were thrown helter and skelter. Izuru reached down to poke his face. "Gin?" He mumbled. Gin's foot twitched. "Gin?" Izuru repeated. "Gi-"

"Whaaat." Gin croaked.

"Where are we?"

"Hell if I should know." Gin didn't budge.

"What time is it?"

Gin threw out an arm to point at the alarm clock on the blond wood bedside table. Eleven o'clock. Izuru's head throbbed. He hung one arm over the side of the bed to brush Gin's face. Gin caught his fingers and pressed them to his cheek.

"Hey, fags." A sneering voice remarked. "You awake now?"

Gin mumbled something incoherent.

"That's good to hear." A lean figure cast a shadow over Gin and Izuru. "Get up, ya oaf. We got some catching up to do."

"Shh..." Gin began. "Shinji? Hirako?" Gin barely cracked open one eye. "Well, shit. There's a face I ain't seen in years." A man with facial expressions that showed excessive upper teeth leaned over Gin and Izuru, his unlayered bobbed blond hair falling in a sheet around his head, like a shower curtain.

"Bullshit, Ichimaru, I sawr you just last night. Who d'ya think arranged for you and your boyfriend to have this hotel room anyway, you drunk?"

Gin huffed. "Pfft, I can't remember a thing about last night."

"Me neither." Izuru breathed into the down comforter. Gin still had Izuru's finger's pressed to his cheek.

Shinji kicked Gin in the side. "Ow!" Gin yelped, and jerked Izuru's hand. Izuru came crashing down on Gin with a squeak, their chests slamming together and Gin's foot sliding off the edge of the bed. Izuru placed his hands on either side of Gin's head to push himself up, Gin's chin barely missing Izuru's forehead. Their knees brushed, and Izuru's knee found a place to rest on the floor between Gin's thighs. He blushed heavily. "This isn't what it looks like." Izuru murmured."

"Oh, it's exactly what it looks like." Shinji retorted, his toothy expression growing more sarcastic. He folded his arms.

"Aw, Shinji, be nice to the kid." Gin slid into a sitting position, and Izuru sat back on his haunches. "He's still warmin' up to me." Gin winked a twitching wink.

Shinji's face contorted into a smile similar to Gin's. "He a newbie?" Shinji tossed his chin.

"Yup, I'm his proud first." Gin glowed.

"Lemme guess." Shinji held up a finger. "You top?"

"Eh, we ain't gotten that far yet." Gin looked positively indifferent, and minutely disappointed.

"A-re? Really?"

"He gets embarrassed really easy." The corners of Gin's mouth curled into a teasing sneer.

Izuru's cheeks pinkened.

"See?" Gin giggled.

"Ha ha, that's cute." Shinji folded his legs under himself as he joined them on the floor. "You guys feelin' okay? You were super drunk last night, and mutterin' nefarious things in yer sleep. Especially-" Shinji turned to Izuru. "You. I can't remember your name, even though Ichimaru kept sayin' it all last night."

"I'm Kira Izuru." Izuru said with a weak wave and another blush. His head was still pounding. Nefarious things? What the heck did I say?

"That's it!" Shinji smacked his palm to his forehead. "Thanks, bro. I suck at names."

Someone pounded heavily on the door. "Shinji, you asshat, open up." A harsh, pointed feminine voice.

"Shit, Hiyori." Shinji cursed.

"You still hangin' with that cutie?" Gin slurred, laying back down on the floor.

"Yeah, I can't seem to get rid of her." Shinji stood up.

"Can't be that bad." Gin said.

"It isn't, except when she beats up on me." He crept towards the door. "She's like an abusive girlfriend."

"I don't remember you swingin' that way, Shinji."

Shinji grumbled. "I don't. She's just so clingy." He unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door just a crack. "'Morning, Hiyori." He said cheerily.

"Let me in, idiot."

"Now Hiyori, let's settle down a little bi-"

"You've been missing since last night, jerk!"

"I've been visiting with an old friend, dude. Take a chill pill."

"Oh? You still "visiting" with her?"

"He," Shinji emphasized. "We were friends in high school."

"So why ain't you letting me in?" Hiyori demanded.

"Because I think you're a threat to m- Oof!" Hiyori kicked the door in Shinji's face. "What was that for?" Shinji demanded, reeling backwards from the blow.

"I'm coming in." Hiyori growled.

A short, freckled girl with spikey honey blond hair pulled into pony tails stomped into the room with sandaled feet, her menacing scowl showing one scraggly tooth. Her hands were clenched into fists.

"Ichimaru." She growled, her eyes narrowing to slits when she spied Gin.

"Long time, no see, Hiyori." Gin purred from the floor. Izuru swayed, and rested his head on the edge of the white bed. He really didn't want to bother with the impending showdown.

"You- Shinji, you weren't friends with this guy!"

"Yes I was. Don't kill him, he's here with his partner!" Shinji attempted to step in front of Hiyori. She deflected him with a punch, and he crumpled to the floor. "Ow."

"Partner. You mean blondie over here? The drunk one?" Hiyori pointed rudely at Izuru.

Izuru pushed aside his bangs to give her a fuzzy once-over in acknowledgement. Gin sat up, and leaned his back on the bed. "He doesn't handle alcohol well." Gin explained, patting Izuru on the shoulder.

Hiyori's upper lip twitched. Shinji stood up, and wiped his bleeding nose on the back of his hand. "Hiyori, let's step outside and I'll explain."

"You damnwell better." Hiyori turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Shinji shrugged and followed her.

"I suppose you deserve an explaination too, ne?" Gin said, turning his head to look at Izuru.

"Say whatever you feel fit." Izuru mumbled.

Gin sighed, pushing his sterling hair back from his face with a skinny hand. "Shinji used ta sneak to the Gay Straight Alliance meetings."

"Gay Straight Alliance?" Izuru sat up, rubbing his eyes, his headache a dull pain now.

"I was the president. But I guess that's beside the point. The thing is Shinji's group was pretty anti-gay, so Shinji couldn't tell them that he was going to GSA meetings. Sousuke, Kaname and I were all his biggest supporters."

Izuru wasn't sure all this information was going in. "That's cool. But wasn't he in the fight you and Hisagi had?"

"Yeah. Shinji was in Kensei's group. And just before the fight Kensei had found out that Shinji was going to meetings, and of course he told Shuuhei, who got mad at me. But the worst part was Kensei told Shuuhei right in the middle of the fight. That's when Shuuhei snagged me on the arm."

"But that doesn't explain why Shinji was fighting." Izuru let his arms flop to his sides, and Gin traced butterfly-light circles on his palm with an ivory pinky.

"He was fightin' in self-defense. Wrong place at the wrong time, ya know? Grimmjow got mad at Shinji for spillin' the beans about GSA."

"I see." Izuru quivered at Gin's feathery touch.

"But it looks like Hiyori hadn't heard. She's an intense fighter." Gin sighed. "Shinji's a cool guy, ain't he? Plays some mean jazz guitar."

Izuru nodded faintly. "He looks to be really easy-going."

The door creaked open. "She's pissed." Shinji slunk through the door, a sandal-shaped red mark that read "Teva" backwards blossoming on his left cheek, and the blood that leaked from his nose was beginning to crust.

"Ouch!" Gin exclaimed, studying Shinji's face with scrutinizing squinted eyes. "Man, she really is the abusive girlfriend type."

"Holy crap." Izuru breathed, leaning forward. "Are you okay?" Slowly but surely his hangover was dissipating, much to his relief, his vision finding its focus again.

"I'll be fine." Shinji huffed, rubbing his smarting cheek. "Hiyori's gonna hate me now, though. I think she liked me."

"She liked you?" Gin stood up, and pulled Izuru to his feet. Izuru brushed off his shirt.

"Probably. Hey, do you guys want a ride back to your hotel? We're on the opposite side of town right now."

"We are? In that case, that'd be great. Thanks, Shinji." Gin glanced around the room, and spied his shoes and jacket near the door. He threw his jacket on and stuffed his feet in his shoes.

Izuru looked for his own shoes and socks. "Where are my shoes and socks?" He asked, not seeing them.

"You gave them to some guy with cherry red hair and tribal tattoos at the bar last night." Shinji sighed. "He put them in his pants, then you guys danced together. It was really rather awkward to watch."

Izuru hid behind his hands. "I really did that?"

"Yup," Shinji said, chipper. "I'm gonna wash my face, then I suppose we'll check out and skedaddle to uptown."

"I can't believe I danced with a guy who had my shoes down his pants." Izuru squeaked, his voice cracking.

"Ya get used to it." Gin said, elbowing Izuru playfully.

"Used to it?" Izuru gasped, whipping his head up from his hands. "You mean we're going to do that again?"

Izuru sank into a tackily upholstered chair in their hotel room, and Gin flopped on the flowery bed. Izuru's headache was almost completely gone, but now his limbs felt like lead from the workout he'd gotten dancing and running from the authorities and dragging passed out bodies off the dance floor so he wouldn't trip on them while he danced more. He sighed.

"Gin, don't you miss your parents?" He asked.

"Uh-huh. All the time."

"Why don't you ever show it, then?"

Gin sat up. "I do!"

Izuru slouched lower. "Then how come I never really see it? All you ever do is smile. It makes it really hard for me to read into you."

"Read into me?" Gin echoed.

"Yes!" Izuru huffed, exasperated, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with both hands. "It's starting to bug me."

Gin was silent. Izuru peeped open one eye.

"Do you hate me?" Gin's voice was childish, and the question was innocent. Izuru studied Gin's face. His lips were pressed into a curling, closed-mouth smile, and his eyes were narrowed to arching slits, the bright aqua of his irises a miniscule glint of smoldering ocean. He was curled in on himself, his knees pulled up under his chin.

Izuru let his hands fall away from his face, and he looked at Gin with puppy dog eyes. "No. It's quite the opposite. Regrettably the opposite." He looked at the ceiling.

"Come on a walk with me."

"Huh?" He returned his gaze to Gin.

"Come on. It's midday. We have hours." Gin stood up, stretching his long legs.

"O-okay." Izuru rose from the chair, and went to retrieve shoes from his bag, since his other ones were down some guy's pants. He slipped his feet into leather flip-flops, and followed Gin out the door. "Where are we going?"

"Just down the street," Gin said, shutting the door to their one-bed room. "To the Gion district." He started out of the hotel, and made a right. Izuru followed quickly, ducking his head and shoving his hands in his pockets.

They entered the old-fashioned looking Gion district, with the machiya and ochaya houses, and their wooden exteriors. A small stream was directly to their right, and Izuru caught a glimpse of a blue heron, standing majestically on the railing of a bridge. Gin seemed to know the area well.

"Gin, did you live in the Gion district?" He asked, dashing a little to catch up to Gin, who was ten steps ahead.

"No," Gin answered plainly, shrugging. "But I lived close. We lived in a Western-style house, kinda like yours. I used ta come mess 'round here in the Gion district with friends after school, ya know?"
"Sounds like fun." Izuru bobbed his head. "A... Are we going any place in particular?"

"No."

Izuru gulped. Did he make Gin mad? Oh, he hoped not. He'd never seen Gin angry before. They walked together in silence for maybe half an hour. Gin veered off into the backlanes of the Gion district, and Izuru followed unquestioningly as they passed a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront. Gin stopped, and Izuru almost ran into his back.

"Gi-" Izuru began.

"'Zuru, do ya not like that I'm not good at showin' emotion?" Gin was staring at the concrete beneath his shoes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Izuru asked, taking a step to stand beside Gin.

"I've never been good at showin' emotion or explaining myself."

"Gin, that's fine."

"No, it isn't!" Gin shouted huskily, swiveling his head to face Izuru. "Not when I'm with someone like you. Your face is always changin', always gettin' some new expression and mine ain't. I don't know how. It ever occur to ya that I might get jealous a that?"

Izuru sighed heavily. "No, it di-"

"You're beautiful, Izuru, and I'm not. My parents always told me that my hair was silver for a reason, or that I was blessed to have such distinct features, but I always hated it. I always got weird stares, or got teased, or treated different. Sure, ya don't look like a normal Japanese person either, but at least your hair is an actual hair color." Gin's hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Gin, stop it." Izuru scolded, taking hold of his elbow. "Stop putting yourself down like this." He gripped Gin's chin and forced him to look Izuru in the eyes. "You do too have facial expressions. Like right now. You're pouting, you big softie. And you have the prettiest eyes and hair I've ever seen in my life."

"They're too bright." Gin mumbled, his speech garbled by Izuru's pressing fingertips.

"They're perfect." Izuru laced his skinny arms around Gin's midsection. "And quit pouting."

Slowly, Gin followed Izuru's lead and wrapped his own arms around Izuru's shoulders and buried his face in Izuru's hair. I really like this guy, they both thought.