Chapter Nine: Aftermath

In the morning I woke up to, all Ichigo had left were strands of hair whose reason for being there spoke of nothing but scandal. All that had happened on the night prior started to weigh down on me. I was probably altogether exhilarated by the suddenness of it all but perhaps the thrill was dangerous, forbidden even. Before my wits fully descended on me, however, a forestalled figure was in the doorway.

"It's already quarter to seven, mister. I thought I could count on you to wake up in time for school?" Mother said.

"I didn't get enough sleep."

"Your father called me early this morning. He told me you haven't given him your answer. When is he having it?"

I looked up at her, finding in her face neither severity nor mildness of conduct.

"That early? Shouldn't he be adjusting his goddamned Rolex already? And why the hell is he so fucking impatient anyway?"

"He's being good to you. I expect you respect him just as well. Now take your shower and get down to breakfast after."

At lunch time at school, my dreaded score in the latest math exam preserved me from listlessness. While it also was necessary to lodge my stepbrother off my mind, at least temporarily, thoughts of him hardly translated to any form of apprehension. After all, I hadn't screw him all the way, partly because… I didn't know how to. All this was racing in and out of my head when Ulquiorra dumped his food tray on my table.

"Not joining the girls and the jocks?" He gestured at the group of cheerleaders who were lunching with the very popular Hisagi Shuhei and the rest of the team. Just then, our Linebacker Shawlong Koufang and Linemen Di Roy and Nakeem Grindina started to stuff hotdogs in their mouths in close successions as if there was gonna be a worldwide hotdog shortage starting tomorrow. For a reason, the sight was making me recall last night's events. As a matter of fact, I could hardly get past getting offended. But then this was just the same old stupid hotdog-eating contest these morons regularly pulled in order to impress the fucking females. To these doofuses' misfortune, the girls were giggling at Hisagi and Ylfordt Grantz, the other Linebacker, never minding the three's antics.

"They're noisy as fuck. Anyway, your lovely sister did stick her knee in my nutsack, just so you know."

Ulquiorra was about to remark on it when Nnoitora Jiruga showed up and, without meaning to appear courteous, interrupted,

"Grimmjow, I need you to come with me after your training at Number 15 Embankment. We're gonna have lots of fun."

Fun, if it so came from Jiruga's mouth, merely equated to any of the following: shoving crystal meth in your nose, street brawl with good-for-nothing punks, or taking prostitutes home. As I was in no mood for any of these, I made a motion to decline but, to my surprise, Ulquiorra muttered first,

"Filth."

"What was that, faggot?" Jiruga was hissing the words, and the promising look of wrath on his face was hard to overlook. I, on the other hand, winced at the word 'faggot', for some reason.

"Cut it out, Jiruga. I ain't going anywhere with you. And just for you to be informed, I'm talking to Ulquiorra here."

"You're choosing this drag over me? The fuck, Grimmy—"

"—is there a problem here?" A voice that neither belonged to me nor Ulquiorra snipped through.

It was Starrk.

There was something almost fascinating about the silence that followed, what with my teammates craning their necks toward us. As for Starrk, he had just been trooping past, a carton of milk in hand, when he had overheard Jiruga's disagreeable rejoinder. He was, by the way, not very fond of riots and disorder simply because things like that so often got in the way of his attempts at sleeping. But Ulquiorra now had lowered his gaze so that I knew exactly the reason why he was acting like this, but not what he sought to gain by staring blankly at the stupid table.

"Yeah. Obviously. These fucking joy-killing pricks are getting on my nerves." Jiruga explained, his index finger flying at me and the defenseless Ulquiorra.

It then appeared to me that I could not receive this with calmness, as I was with scarcely any means of ignoring shit hurled at me. That was because I was a bastard myself. But before I could give Jiruga a nice jolt in the fucking chest, Starrk grabbed him by the wrist and yanked his arm away from Ulquiorra, with force. He warned,

"Listen here, Jiruga. You conduct stuff like this again and I'll personally take care of you. How's that?"

Just what the fuck was happening? All of a sudden Starrk, the king of I-Care-for-Fucking-Nothing, was dipping his nose where it didn't belong. Well, maybe, just maybe, I fucking knew what was happening. Maybe I fucking knew this lazy asshole was trying to impress someone. As soon as he was done threatening, Jiruga marched around and disappeared into the nearest doorway, cursing under his breath. For my part, I was all set up to tell Starrk I could've had handled the prick and that he had no fucking business here. So unless he could grant me that one great thing I had been asking of him for donkey months now, he should better clear the fuck out before I rammed something in his crotch. Instead, he sat down beside Ulquiorra. At that, all went back too normal, except my temper.

"That was unnecessary." Ulquiorra lectured Starrk.

Should one take a closer look, the pale bloke was starting to show traces of uneasiness. But if one was to take a really, really close look, Ulquiorra's heart was thumping away like a bastard inside his fucking ribcage, all the more so because Starrk was studying him in a very calculating manner. Until now, I had had no knowledge that this sleep-obsessed prat was capable of looking somewhat awake.

"Just thought I'd give you a hand. Anyway, mom's cooking lasagna tonight, or so she says. She wants you to come over." Starrk invited Ulquiorra before turning to me, perfunctorily, "Wanna join us, Grimmy?"

"No." Was my flat answer.

"..." Was Starrk's wordless response, but he was looking more awake now aside from appearing thoroughly taken aback, offended even.

Before I could stop myself, my mouth betrayed me and so it motored away,

"I want you to fucking join me, Starrk. Come back to the fucking team, for fuck's sake. We're up against Juujika in two days and you know I'm in desperate need of anyone who at least knows what a fucking pigskin looks like."

Jesus. I had never begged for anything in my life before this. It so happened that this bastard, Starrk, was the fucking football-deserter whom we were desperate to re-recruit. In the middle of our freshman year, he had quit the team under some shitty reason concerning family problems, and since then had never set foot on the field. Talk about lame fucking excuses. Chances were, being the lazy prick that he was, most likely the training sched had gotten to his tits. Nevertheless, taking into account how physically fit and versatile he had been, Starrk would've been captain now instead of me if only he had stayed long enough. That was because he could've played any freaking position except QB and RB. When he and I had shown up at the football try-outs in our freshman year, Kensei-sensei had had his reservations; I had been cocky right from the beginning while Starrk had made it a point to show irritation for the noise coming from the team. But when the time had come for us to sprint the forty-meter dash and to ram the tackle dummies, everyone present that day could not have forgotten the look on coach's eyes. At that moment, coach Muruguma's dreams had come true. As things had been, coach had always been ready to grovel on his knees if only to convince this bastard to come back. To no avail. As of now, he still wouldn't give in.

"See ya later." He rested one palm on Ulquiorra's left shoulder, using it to hoist himself up. And then he went poof, ignoring me just like that. His royal jockness, ignored. Well, that went fucking well. I could almost congratulate myself for being the most insulted dude in the whole fucking universe as of the moment.

"I didn't know you were back on friendly terms." I started angrily at Ulquiorra, feeling betrayed.

"Two weeks ago he asked me to tutor him in Physics. He's been spending two hours at my place on Wednesdays and Thursdays right after school." was his explanation.

So Ulquiorra had no time to fucking watch my training drills, much less walk with me home but he had some to spare for that lazy prick. Wonderful. And just as I was aware of his feelings for that deserter, I was even more so of his hopes. For all I knew, Ulquiorra wanted more than tutoring that asshole. And so I spoke with frustration,

"If you wanted a broken heart you should've told me in the first place. I'd have driven a stake straight into your heart or something. That should save you the fucking trouble. Jesus, why the hell am I still yapping about him?"

It took him a while to answer, by which time he was already back to being some sort of a blunt bastard.

"Are you by any chance jealous, Grimmjow?"

Here we go again with this fucking stupid J-word. Don't get me wrong. I had no feelings for Ulquiorra other than what the longevity of our friendship exacted. But, hell, if he had been chucking my company to spend a few hours with Starrk for some flirting spree, man, I had a right as much as anyone else to fucking feel… something.

"Who the fuck is jealous? Just so you know, I want him back more than having you as company."

"It was a rhetorical question. Anyway, you mentioned some sort of a dilemma some nights ago."

Anxious to change the subject, I let my mind be occupied by Ichigo. Before long, his name went out my mouth,

"Ichigo. There, I said it. Let's quit yapping about Starrk for a change. Really, I want to skewer the bastard."

"Why are you so obsessed with Starrk? Can't you bully a freshman or a sophomore into joining the team?"

"Know what, let's change the fucking subject."

"Right. So Ichigo is your stepbrother, right? Nel told me he has a charming girlfriend. What about him?"

"That's not his girlfriend."

"Sis would be delighted."

"Whatever."

"So what is it? Have you gotten our math teacher pregnant?"

"Keep your fucking voice down." I warned.

"Is she preggy?"

"I've stopped screwing her." I muttered. His head tilted slightly to express approval.

"Good."

"I told you my problem is about my fucking stepbrother."

On one pretext or another, he tried to maintain an air of interest, perhaps just so to demonstrate he was sick of my digressions. But it was on the intellectual and perceptive side of him, and there alone, that no failure could be found. As his shrewdness was unlike any other, he managed to guess,

"Are you in love with your new brother, Grimmjow?"

"Keep your fucking voice down!" I cried aloud before I could contain myself. Naturally, dozens of eyes were steering in our direction. In fact, Hisagi gave me an inquiring thumbs-up as if to ask 'Everything okay?' from across two tables.

"Why so upset? But…are you?" Ulquiorra pressed, his interest growing earnest this time.

"I don't think I am. But I bedded him last night."

"…" If his face could get any blanker, I probably didn't know him all that well.

"I didn't go all the way, though."

"…" Another blank face for a fucking answer.

"I know you're incapable of laughing, you bastard, but I'm sure as hell something inside yourself is snickering all over the place now."

"On the contrary, I'm impressed."

"By what?"

"Your honesty. I'm honestly not laughing."

As if he could fucking laugh. I was surprised he even knew what the word meant. But I remembered having sniggered like a fucking hyena when I had finally gotten around to make him admit his feelings for Starrk, who I so wanted to strangle at the moment. At that time, I had merely been finding it hard to associate Ulquiorra's emotional capacity with something as heavy as infatuation, and nothing more.

"Pffft. You can start right about now."

"Well, it's rather odd that you're looking at it as a problem."

"He's my stepbrother, for crying out loud."

"So?"

"So, you ask? How about fucking incest?"

"You're not blood related."

"Sheesh. You and your fucking morality."

"It's my logic that's talking."

Just then I remembered something. I remembered the choices my father had laid out before me. But slowly I was seeing the abruptness of my feelings for my stepbrother as something which neither time nor great opportunities would make me forget. In fact, the more I dwelled on the matter, the more confused I became.

"Dude, I was supposed to tell you that my biological father suddenly popped up out of nowhere, like fucking daisies. He wants me to continue my studies abroad, in Europe or even in America, of all fucking places."

"That's great news."

"Great? Are you cocksure?"

"Yes. If it were me, I'd do anything to make it to Cambridge or Oxford." He said, but, of course, he was speaking for his genius self alone.

"Fuck that. As if my two brain cells would qualify for that shit."

"You're right. Universities like that would give your two brain cells some serious frying." He agreed, never realizing what his callous remark could earn for him.

"Fuck you."

"I suggest you grab the chance. You may stay there for a year or two, and if you happen to end up displeased by the Western lands you can, I believe, persuade your father to do as you please, to return here."

"Two fucking years? Who has that much time to spare?"

"You, and every teenager for that matter."

"Now you don't understand—"

"—I think I understand perfectly well, Grimmjow." He interjected with emphasis. At the same time the school bell rang. As he was the most punctual bastard in school, I was disposed to think he wouldn't complete his remark and would skip toward his next class like some deranged secretary running late for a meeting. But he ignored the bell and looked at me square in the face to say, "One month ago, you would have flown off with your father with only football to have you thinking twice. But your charming stepbrother came into the picture, thwarting all at once your father's plans for you."

It was my turn to stare blankly. In time, a couple of urges came over me; to strangle Ulquiorra, if not to demand that he expound on his statement. But then neither of the two could be entirely attributed to some lapse in judgment on his part, simply because he was never wrong.

I realized he was, in more ways than one, right. Still, I went on to mutter,

"I live for football; make no mistake about that. NFL, man. If I go to America for college..."

"Grimmjow, dreams change over time—for some of us anyway."

He might have a point. Whatever the case, Ichigo and I would find ourselves beneath my sheets tonight.

TBC