Chapter Twenty
He stayed mostly silent for the rest of the really, really long and freakishly exhausting walk back to Las Noches through the desert. By the time we were only half of the way there, my feet felt like they were going to fall off—or I was going to cut them off because they felt so heavy. I didn't care; either way would work in my opinion.
Although he wasn't talkative, he didn't wander off again and leave me alone to my own devices. I was glad, though, because I was not actively searching for a repeat of earlier, with the large black monster thing. I would ask Usagi what it was later, I decided.
When we finally reached the gates—and I mean finally, because that was a really, really long walk and my legs and feet were killing me. My lungs felt as though they were going to collapse at any given moment. I wasn't made to walk for so long or so far.
Toughen up, Ka-chan. The voice was clear as a bell in the confines of my mind. It was the first he had decided to talk to me since I had fallen on my face. You're going to have to if you want to survive what is coming.
I didn't question him, because I knew it wouldn't work. I wouldn't get any answers from him; I would never get any answers from him, and it frustrated me to no end. There was one man, however, whomI could probably get some answers out of, and fast.
Then again, I didn't quite feel like telling any form of the truth to Aizen. I would only do so if I was under a lot of pressure, I was sure.
I can do without answers for now, I thought as we entered Las Noches. I can get them eventually.
Inside, it was blessedly cool. I sighed in relief and nearly sagged against one of the nearest walls, removing my hood and shaking out my hair. It had effectively plastered itself to my head in an unflattering manner, and I had actually managed to get it into a reasonable style before our trek into the desert.
"I'm exhausted," I mumbled, running my hands through my hair in an attempt to remove it from being plastered to my head. It felt gross, all slicked and stiff with sweat. It was finally, clean, too!
"Maybe if you hadn't insisted on walking the whole way back, you wouldn't be." And then there was Grimmjow, who was still indignant after calling me a nagging woman.
I do not nag.
"Yeah, like you could have carried me all the way back here."
"We would have been here a lot fucking sooner if I had, but someone insisted on walking away and through the rest of the desert!"
"It would have taken longer! You couldn't have managed to carry me all the way back through the desert with only one arm! It isn't physically possible—you would have collapsed, and then I would have left you there to die, because there is no way that I could have possibly dragged you back here!" We were standing a few feet apart, glaring at each other.
"It would have only taken a couple of seconds! And I wouldn't have had to carry you, I just would have had to grab you by the fucking hood—and maybe twist it around your neck while I'm at it because of nagging—and then we would have been here without wasting a whole lot of time!"
"If you're going to insist on coming up with ways to kill me, at least make them interesting and original! Strangling by hood is not an original concept, and neither is smothering me with a pillow or couch cushion in my sleep, so don't you even think about it." I had taken a step forward, pointing my finger at him in what I could only hope was a threatening action. In the semi-rational part of my mind, I knew it wasn't, but I kept doing it anyways. "If you're going to kill me, you have to have some originality! Some flair! Like, like setting me on fire and feeding me to lions! Or, or, or giving me a whole lot of paper cuts and sticking me in a vat of snake venom! Or, better yet, giving me snake venom filled cupcakes that coincidentally have razor blades in them, because you can drink snake venom and it won't kill you unless you have a cut somewhere in your digestive system!
"Or, you know, you could just make something up as you go along and think of some other creative, non-deceitful way to-"
HOLY MOTHER OF GOD.
His lips were rough against mine; I froze, completely confused because what the hell was going on. Things like getting kissed didn't happen to paranoid schizophrenic, help-I-might-have-accidentally-killed-my-sister-during-a-psychotic-break people. We were to be avoided, to be shunned, to be locked up in little white rooms wearing white clothes and eating slop with slow, unsteady movements with blank looks on our faces from the drugs pumped through our veins.
The hummingbird-like rhythm found its way back into my heart, the organ beating against my chest in a frenzy, like it was trying to burst out and escape from its confinement within the cage of muscle and bone it was trapped in.
This was—this was weird. This was ew. This was no.
This was not good, not needed, not right.
A hand on either shoulder, I shoved him away from me. He stumbled back, hurt look on his face, confusion flashing across his features.
Kaori, that's not how kissing works.
"First of all," I started, breathing heavily, both of my hands still up in the air as a barrier between us. "Your lips should be no where near mine. Like, no where within six inches of mine. Ever. Second, if I ever do want your lips near mine, you'll be the first to know—and that's likely not going to happen in a good long time. Third, you're acting, like, super erratic. And you just lost an arm, what, less than twenty four hours ago? And your, um, position, whatever that was. You lost that, too."
You're kind of rubbing salt in the wound here, Ka-chan.
Grimmjow was staring at me as if I had turned into something he didn't know—which was mostly true, because he didn't really know me. I was just someone he had kidnapped and had been ordered to care for. Sure, we had spent a good amount of time together, but I was certain all he gleaned from that much is that I was definitely not sane.
Please tell me you're not going to keep going.
My breathing was nearing it's normal tempo once again, but my heart rate was still abnormally high, the organ pumping faster in my chest than how it normally did. I felt violated, a little confused, and somewhat happy at how well my mouth had decided to start forming words at that moment.
Oh no. You're going to keep going. I can feel it.
"Oh, look at me, my name is Grimmjow, I lost an arm, I want to make bad decisions involving other people and completely ignore the consequences of my actions, as well as the feelings of others!" I mocked, finally placing a hand on my hip and leaning toward him just enough to make my messenger bag swing forward and settle itself in front of my hips.
That is a terrible impression, Kaori. Never do it again.
"I don't. What. Kaori, that's not-"
"Then what, Grimmjow?" I snapped, straightening and pushing my bag back to where it was supposed to be. "You're not in a condition to be making decisions, and I am barely in a condition to be making decisions for myself."
He stared at me for a moment before his shoulders stooped. With his only hand on the back of his head he said, "I was just going to say I don't sound like that at all."
I stopped, jaw hanging, one hand partially raised in the air and the other still resting on my bag.
Of all of the things I had just said, the fact that I did a poor impression of him was what had stuck out the most?
Closing my mouth, I tilted my head to the side, narrowing my eyes at him, to see if he was just joking about the bad impression. From what I could tell, he wasn't.
I turned on my heel and stalked down the hall.
urhm. oops? I'm back after more than a year whoospie doodle.
I am so, so, so, so sorry for being gone for so long. Like. I don't even have a good (believable) explanation, so I'll just leave it alone. But I will say that if I had my way, this whole chapter would have been nothing but memes. But, hey, it is a Wednesday. So there's always that.
I would also like to thank every single one of you who actually clicked on this after more than a year-it means a lot, even if it doesn't look like it does. But I swear, I'm going to finish this even if it kills me.