Endure and Survive
Title: Endure and Survive
Author: Desperatembrace
Rating: NC-17 (Overall)
Summary: When Grimmjow is on his way home from overtime at work, he never expects to pick up a bloodied, half-naked, orange haired man off the side of the street. Nor did he expect to fall in love with him. It's funny how life works that way.
Extra Info: AU; Multi-chapter; Romance/Drama
Started March 27th.
Completed March 28th.
Authoress: Desperatembrace
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. If I did, Rukia's zanpakuto power would be shown way more often.
Warning:
Violence
Alternate Universe
Language
Sexual Content
Yaoi
Chapter 3
"Patient"
When Grimmjow and Ichigo walked through the doors of the doctors office, there was one thing that the orange-haired amnesiac noticed that he hadn't noticed before. Every person that they passed, male or female, no matter who they were, would turn and look at Grimmjow. And it wasn't just any kind of look or glance. It was most definitely a look that would scream either 'fuck me', 'look at me' or 'good god, hello sexy'.
At first he found it a little disturbing. But when they stepped up to the check-in desk and the woman behind the desk looked up from her computer only to have her eyes widen and a flirtatious smile cross her face, he found it... annoying.
He wasn't exactly sure why it was annoying. He just knew that it was. Ichigo ruthlessly squashed the urge to roll his eyes as his blue-eyed savior relayed his information and told the lady of their appointment.
Looking elsewhere to take his mind off of things, he glanced around at the rather large waiting room behind himself. It was very open-spaced, but crammed full of chairs, almost each seat taken up by a sick or injured person. He mused that it must be a rather popular or well-off doctor's office. After all, not many other doctors offices are quite so full.
At the quick and simple thought, he paused. He wasn't supposed to remember something like that. He had amnesia.
Why did he know that?
As Grimmjow quickly filled out the sheet handed to him by the desk-lady, Ichigo thought long and hard, delving into his mind as far as he could to pull out the memories that had almost resurfaced. But they kept on dancing out of his reach. He could vaguely feel the nostalgia left behind of the memory, but he was unable to catch the evading memory.
He sighed aloud in frustration, his small light of hope being crushed mercilessly.
Well, it's okay, I suppose. I do have amnesia after all. It's not like it's all just going to randomly come back to me... He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Grimmjow raise his voice, saying his name.
"Yeah?" Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow, his attention not fully on the man as he still half-ass tried to grasp the memory.
"Come on. The doctor is waiting. We almost lost the appointment because we were a few minutes late." At this, Ichigo cringed a bit before stiffly nodding and mumbling a quick agreement.
Grimmjow watched him for a moment before guiding him to the nurse that was waiting at the inner-door to show them to their private room. They headed deeper into the building, weaving through the blank white hallways. The nurse finally stepped up in front of a simple door and opened it, allowing the two men in before stepping in herself.
She closed the door behind herself and turned to where Ichigo and Grimmjow were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She waved her hand to both the chair in the corner and the examination bed. "Go ahead and sit. I'm just going to ask a few questions before I take down the basics-height, weight, blood pressure, and all that other stuff."
She settled herself into the stool next to the small counter and turned toward Ichigo, successfully (and amazingly) ignoring Grimmjow altogether.
"Alright, I noticed on the filled out sheet that you don't have a family name written down... or an age or anything like that. There is actually not very much information on here at all. Just your individual name... and a few injuries that you have." She watched the orange-haired man, curious for his response.
Ichigo nodded slowly. "Yes. I have amnesia." At this the woman leaned back a bit, her eyes widening in surprise as she brushed her brown hair out of her face, motioning for him to continue.
"The only thing I remember is bright lights, an immense relief... and then waking up in his apartment in a lot of pain." He pointed in Grimmjow's direction who was perked up slightly at the interesting new information. The brown-haired nurse turned her head in his direction, looking for affirmation.
The blue-haired man was crossing his arms, his face blank. He finally replied, "Yeah. He was unable to get out of an 18-wheelers path in time and his arm was hit, making him slam his head into the sidewalk. I imagine he already had many injuries before then but..." He shrugged slightly. "I just brought him home and had a friend look at him and then after he started feeling better, decided to bring him here."
The nurse nodded quickly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Almost like some kind of thing you read about in books, or see in movies!" Grimmjow frowned at this comment, thinking it over before replying. "That's usually only for romance stories."
The woman seemed to be surprised by this as she coughed into her hand slightly and frowned. "Oh, yeah. Sorry..." She gave a small sigh before reaching forward to tug on Ichigo's arm to pull him toward the weight scale, only to have jolt backwards out of reach. She gave him a questioning glance as he pinned her with an apologetic expression. He stood up and slowly made his way to the scale that she pointed out.
They quickly took down the basic information. He was rather healthy, actually. His blood pressure was really good (for someone so injured), his eye sight good although a bit fuzzy from the previous accident. He was a little happy when the nurse told him his height was a perfect 5'11", only to have his happiness ripped away from him when Grimmjow mentioned his own 6'1" stature.
They were finished relatively quickly with almost no incident (only Grimmjow having to wrap the blood-pressure pad around his arm and hold the stethoscope in place when the nurse was swatted away). The nurse put away her stethoscope and picked up the clipboard containing all of her notes on Ichigo's condition.
"Alright, I'm just going to go give these to the doctor. He will be with you shortly." She gave a half-moon smile and stepped out of the room, leaving the two men alone.
They sat in a simple silence, not quite awkward, but not quite comfortable. Ichigo began to wander through his head again, searching for the elusive memories. After many minutes a confident knock resounded on the door, opening and revealing a rather average almost-middle-aged man, his long blond hair tied back into a ponytail.
He gave a smile to the room's occupants as he stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He strode over to the previously occupied stool and sat down, flipping through the papers on his clipboard.
Ichigo just stared at the man for a moment. Wasn't this man supposed to like, say hello or something whenever he first walked in? Isn't that the manners that doctors and nurses were taught, to be friendly with their patients? After all, everytime he visited the doctor they would...
The orange-haired man cringed, the flash of a memory flitting through his mind. He shut his eyes, desperately chasing after it, but again, it escaped.
His eyes slid open as he heard Grimmjow calling his name again, turning to the blue-haired man. He had an irritated look on his face, most likely annoyed that Ichigo kept retreating into his mind.
Ichigo mumbled out a small apology as he turned to the doctor that had apparently been trying to converse with him and discuss his problems. He quickly reviewed all of the injuries listed on the sheet, confirming that there were in fact no other injuries.
"Well," the doctor said as he pushed his glasses further up his crooked nose. "It seems as if that doctor friend of yours did a rather good job with his injured cuts." He glanced at Grimmjow who was holding a squirming Ichigo down as the doctor looked at his marked up back. Every time the doctor would even think about touching his back, he would desperately try to get away from the probing and analyzing hand. Eventually the doctor had given up and just resorted to close visual examination.
"This wound right here," he pointed to the large slash across the expanse of Ichigo's back, "is very well stitched up. It will heal beautifully. Although there will still be scar tissue..." He gave the squirming orange-haired man an apologetic glance even though he was unable to see it.
"Well, I sincerely hope that Szayel doesn't hear that. It's only obvious that he'll go around gloating like the fucking annoying ass he is," Grimmjow murmured darkly under his breath. The doctor finally leaned back, obviously not having heard the blue-haired man. Grimmjow took that as his cue to release Ichigo. The orange-haired man slowly sat up, minding his broken arm. The doctor watched the defensive action before clicking his tongue.
"We're going to have to replace that with a stronger cast. That one will fall apart pretty quickly. Plus, it looks like you bathed with it." Ichigo gave the doctor an incredulous look. "What am I supposed to do? Not bathe until my arm heals?"
The doctor chuckled loudly, uncaring of the scowl that took residence on the man's face. "No, no, silly boy." Ichigo's scowl only deepened at the word boy. "You just have to keep it out of the water. Wrap it in a plastic bag or something." He stepped to the door and poked his head out, calling to a nurse and asking her to bring something.
The blonde doctor turned back around and faced the two, Grimmjow having fallen back into his seat in the corner of the room. "I'm going to have to give you a numbing shot and then break the thin cast that you've got right now." He pointed to the thin layered cast on Ichigo's arm. "Then I'm gonna redo the cast and make a 4 layer cast for you. It should be kept on the arm for..." He glanced at the sheets of information, nodding thoughtfully. "About four and a half weeks. You've already had that simple cast on for about a week and a half, so that should work out just fine."
Ichigo nodded slowly, still not fully understanding the process of casting his arm. Grimmjow let out a low sigh in his corner of the room before standing up and heading over to the amnesiac, sitting beside him. Ichigo tensed slightly, glancing at Grimmjow in a questioning manner.
There was a knock at the door, the young nurse from before stepping in with a small case of needles and the numbing solution in one arm and gauze and plaster in the other. She haphazardly dumped the armload of gauze and plaster onto the counter and situated the case of needles and the solution delicately next to it.
The doctor stared at the young woman for a moment before shaking his head and muttering under his breath as she turned around, scratching her head with an embarassed expression. She pulled one of the larger needles out of the case, quickly sterilizing it and filling it with the numbing solution. She handed the needle to the doctor who had already pulled on his plastic gloves.
Grimmjow, knowing what was going to happen, put his hand over Ichigo's eyes, who immediately began to try and squirm out of his grasp. He had to hold Ichigo down by the upper arm as the doctor leaned forward and poked the needle under the skin of his left arm, right above the elbow.
Ichigo let out a pathetic whimper, his fear escalating to unprecedented heights. He couldn't see what was going on. He had to know what was going on. He had to be able to see. There could be danger. And he would have to run.
Almost immediately after his flight instincts began to surface, Grimmjow pulled his hand away from Ichigo's face, slowly releasing him from his grasp. The amnesiacs eyes shot open, darting back and forth between the nurse and the doctors as he backed up on the examination bed. After a few moments of utter stillness from both the doctor and the nurse, he began to relax, glancing in Grimmjow's direction.
Grimmjow was watching his actions quietly, analyzing his every move. What made him fear being touched by a doctor? By a nurse? By anyone? He had to be physically held down by the blue-haired man himself for anyone to be able to come within a foot of him. The only person who could physically touch him was Grimmjow.
And he had begun to realize that very quickly. Thus why he took up the job of holding the poor frightened man down each time the doctor had to come close. It was interesting, but at the same time...
Frightening.
What in the world could make a man so afraid of people?
Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had to push those thoughts back. Right now, the doctor had to get up very close and very personal to be able to do what he was about to do.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he leaned his torso in Ichigo's direction, a serious look on his face. The orange-haired man stared at him, waiting for what Grimmjow was going to say.
"You're going to need to let him get close to you," he muttered. Ichigo stiffened. "It's the only way that arm of yours is going to heal. I'm not a medical professional-no matter what way I do it, it won't turn out right. You're going to have to let him undo that cast and rewrap your arm."
Ichigo was frozen, staring at Grimmjow. The words rolled around in his head, sending a dreadful, flopping feeling down to his stomach. He stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating before he finally gave a very stiff nod and released a shuddery whoosh of breath.
"Okay." It was said very quietly. So quiet, that the nurse standing behind the doctor only a meter away had to strain to hear the word.
The orange-haired man slowly scooted toward the doctor, to the edge of the examination bed. The crinkling of the layed out paper on the bed was the only sound heard in the room. He slowly held out his arm in the direction of the doctor, muttering to him, "it's already numb."
The doctor nodded his head, his eyes still on Ichigo as he reached back for the small shears. As soon as he leaned forward to cut off the cast, the amnesiac almost immediately began to hyperventilate, his eyes sliding shut. He grasped the fabric of Grimmjow's pants with his uninjured right hand, tightening it into a clenched fist. The doctor noticed the change, quickly doing his work and pulling the plaster material off before unwrapping the cotton padding underneath.
The arm was a little hard to look at. Anyone who saw it could most definitely tell that it was indeed broken. It was swollen quite a bit and was covered in a large, blue-yellow bruise.
Grimmjow put his hand over Ichigo's, awkwardly rubbing the top of his hand to comfort him. He wasn't really sure how to comfort anybody... it was a completely new concept to him. Ichigo's eyes stayed closed but his breathing had begun to lighten up significantly.
The doctor quickly pulled out a fresh roll of cotton padding from the drawers behind him and wrapped it around the arm. He then began wrapping the gauze and applying the custom plaster, repeating the pattern of gauze and plaster until 4-5 layers were done, the plaster finishing up the process. It was a special quick-dry plaster, to ensure that they wouldn't be waiting for it to dry for a long time.
When the doctor finally leaned back, Grimmjow shook Ichigo's hand lightly, signaling him to open his eyes. Ichigo's eyes slid open, anxiously and cautiously regarding the doctor who had scooted a ways back. After a couple moments, he finally regarded the new cast around his arm. It was a simple white cast, but as he lifted his arm and moved it around, he could tell it was sturdy.
As Ichigo observed the cast, poking and staring at it, the nurse collected the case and disposed of the needle in its special bin, wrapping up the cotton padding and stepping out the door with a smile directed in Grimmjow's direction. The door shut behind her with a click and the doctor cleared his throat.
"Alright, now the nurse has informed me of your amnesia." Ichigo glanced back up at the doctor, a wary expression on his face. The blonde doctor leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees.
"In some cases, the amnesiac's memories are not regained." He held his hand up as he saw the twin expressions of horror cross Grimmjow's and Ichigo's faces. "But in most, the memories come back over time, usually with certain triggers. You might experience something similar to something that has happened in your past, or even see somebody that you once knew and have some memories concerning that person come back. There are many different triggers that could bring back memories. You most likely fall in the latter category, and will regain your memory with time." Grimmjow nodded along with the doctor's words as Ichigo stayed silent.
The doctor specifically turned to Ichigo, speaking only to him. "Chances are that you will begin to have small memories make their way back to you very soon, so I want you to tell him," he pointed at Grimmjow, "each time you remember something. He will keep track of it." He eyed Grimmjow pointedly. "When you come back to have the cast removed, we will go over the progress of your memory recovery and analyze it from there."
Both men nodded in affirmation as the doctor stood up and made his way to the door. He opened the door and waved his hand to the outside. "Now all you have to do is talk to the receptionist, get your written prescription and then you may leave. Set up a new appointment for roughly 4 and a half weeks from today and we will have the cast removed and track the progress of your memory recovery."
Grimmjow and Ichigo walked out of the room, Ichigo wincing at the dull pain making its way up from his cut-covered feet. The doctor guided them back through the weaving hallways to the front desk. Grimmjow stepped up to the desk, beginning the arduous task of filling out more paperwork. Ichigo poked the man's side, gaining his attention.
"I'm going to run to the bathroom," he said as he turned and crossed the hallway with a slight limp and headed into the small bathroom. Grimmjow merely nodded and turned back to the paperwork.
Ichigo quickly took care of business and began washing his hands, lathering his hands up with soap and rinsing them. He glanced up at the mirror as he was washing his hands and paused. There was a flash across his eyes, a memory of long ago dancing through his mind. It was all run together and fuzzy, too-fast played, and yet... clear.
It was back from when he was young, and visited the doctor after getting injured in a fight. It was a small doctor's office that rarely had more than 10 patients in it at one time. He could remember arguing with the doctor about being a phony... and being told that smiles were the common courtesy. He had been about to punch the guy, but... The memory was interrupted when a burning sensation spread through his head, a major headache presenting itself to Ichigo.
He gripped his head tightly with both hands, leaning against the tiled wall of the bathroom and hissing in pain. The memory was trying to disappear, but he couldn't let it. He couldn't lose it.
He wouldn't.
He tried to press further into the memory, desperately grasping at the nostalgia that was wrapping itself around him. Just as he was about to grab the rest of the memory, a hollow, echoing voice pulled him away from it.
Don't. Not yet.
Ichigo let out a desperate gasp, the voice leaving as quickly as it came. He slowly released his head, the burning sensation of the headache slipping away. He stared at the opposite wall for a moment, contemplating what had just happened. Well, at least he had finally regained a memory.
That counted for something, right?
After thinking about it for a minute, his spirits were raised. He had to tell Grimmjow about what had just happened. The doctor had specified it.
He unlatched the lock and stepped out of the bathroom, a small smile on his face. He began to make his way back to Grimmjow only to freeze in his steps. The blue-haired man was standing in front of the nurse from earlier.
The nurse had her hands behind her back, her thumbs twiddling nervously. Her cheeks were flushed in an uncomfortable blush as she spoke to him. She reached into her pocket pulling out a slip of paper and quickly wrote digits on it.
Ichigo's stomach dropped. A phone number. She was flirting with Grimmjow and giving him her phone number. His lips pulled into a scowl.
Just like the rest of the women.
Ichigo turned on his heels and headed back into the bathroom to splash water on his face. When Ichigo did so, he missed Grimmjow shaking his head and pushing the slip of paper back to the nurse. The brown-haired woman frowned and walked away, her gait spelling disappointed.
Ichigo exited the bathroom again and walked up to Grimmjow, stopping beside him. The blue-haired man silently glanced at him before taking the slip of paper that the clerk behind the counter held out to him. With Ichigo's prescription list in hand, Grimmjow lead him out of the doctor's office and to the car.
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When in the car, Grimmjow glanced at his watch before turning to Ichigo. "It's still a little early. Even though it's a little dark out, do you want to go somewhere? The park, maybe?"
The blue-haired man half-expected the amnesiac to harp on him about not being a kid. So he was pleasantly surprised when Ichigo had stared thoughtfully at the street in front of them and nodded slightly.
"The park would be nice." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the statement before starting the car and putting it in drive, heading to the park nearby his house.
By the time they arrived at the park, it was already dark, the streetlights having lit up and illuminating the sidewalk with a yellowish glow. Grimmjow parked next to the sidewalk and got out, Ichigo following suit.
They quietly walked through the simplistic empty park, enjoying the greenery all around them. It was the most greenery in one spot in that particular city. Many of the citizens liked the park.
When Grimmjow had turned and glanced at Ichigo, he gave a large frown. He had forgotten that the man didn't have a jacket on. Ichigo was shivering, goosebumps covering his visible skin. And to go all the way back to the car just to get a jacket...
Grimmjow just shrugged. No harm, right? He pulled off his own jacket and plopped it on Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden weight on his shoulders. He turned and looked at Grimmjow, clutching the fabric closer to him with his uninjured arm. A smile lit across his face, thankful for Grimmjow's thoughtfulness.
They continued to walk in silence as Ichigo snuggled into the jacket. He could smell Grimmjow on it. A spicy, sweet smell-so contradicting, like cinnamon. He recognized it as the scent of the shampoo that he had used earlier that day.
The blue-haired man guided him to an empty bench, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit when he noticed Ichigo's limping becoming more profound. They sat together and enjoyed the quiet night in silence. Ichigo stared straight ahead, across the street at a small group of street-side stores.
The stores were still open, but didn't have customers. Ichigo lazily looked from window to window, glancing at each display item. Finally, his eyes stopped in one particular window, focusing on a particular item.
Grimmjow noticed Ichigo's attention was absorbed on something and glanced in the same direction. Ichigo was staring into an art shop's window, at the small display of art supplies. A small case of pencils, erasers, pastels, and other supplies stood up at an angle. But in the middle of the display, stood a simple leather-bound sketchbook.
Nothing was really special about it. It was just a sketchbook. Ichigo continued to stare at it for a moment before shaking his head and standing up slowly. "Let's go back." He received a nod from Grimmjow and they headed back to the car, buckling up and going back to Grimmjow's apartment.
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They got prepared for bed, Ichigo using some of Grimmjow's clothes for the night. He quickly got on the couch and snuggled up under the covers, hopeful for sleep to claim him.
Just as he began drifting off to sleep, Grimmjow tapped him on the shoulder, telling him he was going out to get a pack of cigarettes and Ichigo's prescriptions and that he'd be right back. Ichigo nodded sleepily and drifted back off, uncaring as he heard the main door shut behind Grimmjow.
When Ichigo woke up to the sound of Grimmjow's bedroom door clicking shut roughly a half hour later, there was a leather-bound sketchbook laying on the coffee table, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.
-Chapter End-
A/N: Review?
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Started April 4th.
Completed April 5th.
Authoress: Desperatembrace
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. If I did, Nel would be shown a whole lot more often. Nel is love.
Warning:
Violence
Alternate Universe
Language
Sexual Content
Yaoi
Chapter 4
"Helper"
When Grimmjow exited his room the next morning, he didn't expect his amnesiac charge to be awake. But the orange haired man was most definitely awake. He was turned around on the couch, his chin resting on the back of it, staring at Grimmjow as he shut the bedroom door.
Ichigo's eyes never left Grimmjow's form. He kept very silent, just staring at him. After a few moments of this, the blue haired man became uncomfortable, and in turn, irritated.
"What?" He snapped, startling Ichigo. The orange haired man glanced off to the side guiltily, quietly murmuring, "thank you." Grimmjow paused, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment. "For what?" He asked.
Ichigo leaned away from the back of the couch, revealing his arms crossed over a leather-bound sketchbook. The same one that he had bought for Ichigo the previous night.
Grimmjow's eyes widened slightly, remembering. He then softened his gaze, regarding the sketchbook and then Ichigo before replying, "yeah, yeah. Whatever."
He walked off into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
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Grimmjow had shown Ichigo where to find pencils and pens, on the shelf full of knick-knacks. He often had to use writing utensils himself for work, so he had plenty. Ichigo's eyes had lit up in excitement, eagerly grabbing some pencils and sharpening them to a sharp point.
It had been a rather lazy day, Ichigo lying around in the living room making random sketches and doodles in the sketchbook. Grimmjow habitually pulled out the prescriptions that he'd gotten the night prior and shoved them Ichigo's way.
They spent the day watching movies, listening to music, just enjoying each others company silently. It had been a rather unproductive day, but it was a good change of pace compared to Ichigo laying in bed unable to move and Grimmjow nursing him to health. It was also better than running around all over the city for mundane things.
Grimmjow found himself liking the unusual calm that the day produced. He was used to running around trying to finish projects for work or staying at work really late.
Lately, he had become accustomed to taking care of the amnesiac and trying to nurse him to health. It was a strange feeling, but most definitely not unwelcome.
He found himself becoming more attached to the orange haired man, becoming unable to imagine a life without him. Yes, they occasionally got into fights and arguments, but days like this, days full of silent compatibility, days of quietly enjoying each others company made it all worth it.
It scared him a bit.
He had never been so attached to anybody. He had always pushed them away and liked it like that. He wasn't a people person. What little friends, acquaintances or companions he had were rather distant. It was the way things had always been.
But this man, this orange-haired brat, was getting underneath his skin at a startling rate. He enjoyed teasing him, enjoyed arguing with him, enjoyed talking with him, enjoyed being around him. He had never found someone so... enjoyable.
He's very interesting, he mused as he watched Ichigo lean closer to the sketchbook, furiously trying to get the perfect shape. I like to be around him. Even if he is a brat. He added the last bit to save what little dignity he had for himself.
He buried his face in his hands, a tired sigh escaping his lips. What the hell is going on with me? He thought as Ichigo glanced up and smiled. I really can't get too attached to him. It'll just end badly.
And so he decided to distance himself from the amnesiac.
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Over the next few weeks, Ichigo had began to become antsy. Grimmjow had started going back to work and he was left at home, with little to do but draw. His sketchbook was almost completely filled. Grimmjow had even taken to leaving his spare laptop out for Ichigo to mess around on, but even that didn't keep his attention for many days. He began to grow worried.
Grimmjow didn't talk to him much anymore. Granted, he never really talked much from the beginning, but he most definitely noticed the change, and there was much less conversation.
He became a bit worried about what he was supposed to do, also. He stayed at home drawing all day while Grimmjow had to go to work and earn money. Ichigo wasn't doing anything productive even though most of his wounds have long healed (save for his broken arm). He wanted to help out. But with what? He didn't have any memories, and therefore no job. As far as he knew, he didn't have any knowledge on how to do household chores. And he did feel rather guilty about the maid quitting because of him...
How could he help Grimmjow out? Each night the man came home later and later, downright exhausted and still had to do things around the house.
One night his concerns were solved when Grimmjow came home and began preparing dinner, throwing a bunch of vegetables and meat into a large pot for a stir fry. Ichigo sat at the island counter, watching him tiredly pour in various spices to bring out the flavor.
When he reached for a certain spice however, Ichigo shot up from the counter and snatched it out of his hands. He ignored Grimmjow's befuddled expression and untwisted the cap as he leaned over and smelled the stir fry before sniffing at the spice. His own expression twisted into a grimace, quickly twisting the cap back on and putting it back on the spice rack.
"Don't put that in there." Grimmjow just continued to stare at him. Ichigo stepped back with a blush when he realized how close he was to the blue haired man. "Sorry..." He looked up, the blush slowly disappearing from his cheeks. "You can't put that spice in there." He pointed to the one that he had just deposited back in the spice rack. "It'll make it taste too sweet."
Grimmjow finally snapped out of his confusion, pinning him with a questioning look. "And how the hell would you know that?" Ichigo paused at the question, thinking it over.
He didn't really know himself. He just... knew. He thought a bit harder, the nostalgic feeling trying to make its way back. Ichigo focused even harder, vaguely remembering doing the same thing in the past, leaning over the meal to get the scent and then smelling the spice to see if it matched.
His eyes were hazy, absorbed in the small flash of a memory. Grimmjow snapped his fingers twice, gaining the orange haired man's attention again. "Hello? Did you hear me? How did you know that?"
Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows a bit, slightly annoyed that Grimmjow had cut off his memory. "I think... I used to do that in the past. Use the smell to decide on the spices..." He trailed off a bit, trying to grab hold of the memory again.
Grimmjow's eyes widened in recognition. "You're starting to remember? How much?" Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh when the memory danced out of his reach again. "Not much. Just a vague memory of cooking..."
The blue haired man stared at him for a moment, torn between the feeling of excitement and irritation. He was finally remembering something..! But... it was only a vague, hazy memory. It didn't have much use in bringing back the amnesiac's memories altogether.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating. Maybe he wasn't going to regain his memories. Maybe he was going to continue on in his life without remembering who his parents were, who his friends were, all of the experiences that he had. How would it be to live such a life? To continue on without knowing anything about your childhood? Without knowing anything about--
Grimmjow was pulled out of his thoughts when Ichigo loudly yelled. "Ahh!!" Grimmjow turned to Ichigo with a questioning look on his face, pulling out of his thinking pose. "What the hell is it now?" He growled.
Ichigo was startled for a moment before smiling excitedly. "I know how to cook! I can help out around here now!" Grimmjow stared at him, blinking his eyes in confusion.
Is that what...? The blue haired man let out a quick exhale of breath, his mouth twitching upwards in amusement. "Why are you so adamant on helping out around here...?" He questioned aloud, more to himself.
Ichigo didn't answer and just kept on staring at Grimmjow happily, willing him to accept the proposal. He stubbornly stayed silent, staring at Ichigo without any expression.
After a few moments, his will finally crumbled as he let out a sigh. "Alright, fine. You can cook for the both of us from now on. But it had better be good. You can start cooking tomorrow," he said as he eyed the stir fry. He snatched up a large wooden spoon and stirred before nodding, turning off the stove-top. "We've got a meal to eat."
They sat down to eat dinner, Ichigo happily shoving food in his mouth. He took a large gulp of water when an un-chewed portion of food got lodged in his throat. It didn't dampen his mood, though. He could finally help out!
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Over the course of the next few days, Grimmjow had taken Ichigo to nearby convenience stores and shown him around them, so that he could go shopping himself. They were all within walking distance and Grimmjow had begun to trust that Ichigo could take care of himself. He found that out the hard way when they had gotten into a fight over whether Ichigo could really fight or not. He had finally admitted to the small memory from the doctor's office a few weeks back and had another memory of another fight in his childhood.
Upon relaying these memories, Grimmjow had snorted, saying that Ichigo couldn't hurt a fly. Ichigo had flared, insisting that he could take anyone on at any time.
That had ended with Ichigo getting a rather large bruise on his not-broken arm.
And with Grimmjow receiving a busted lip.
Needless to say, Grimmjow began to realise interesting things about Ichigo. The primary being how predominant his personality was becoming. When Ichigo had first woken up a couple of days after the incident that he was found, he was a blushing, shy boy who wanted nothing but to go back into an eternal sleep. Now, he was a fiery, defensive fighter who had no qualms about punching his savior for insulting him.
Not that Grimmjow held any grudges against him.
One quirk about Ichigo that he noticed was his use of hats. Ever since he had bought a hat for Ichigo all those weeks ago, Ichigo had kept it atop his head. He especially insisted upon wearing a hat when he went to the store for grocery shopping. He had eventually gone out and bought a few more hats for variety, getting tired of seeing the same hat on top of the man's head. It was interesting to say the least.
A week or so passed and Ichigo went back to the doctor with Grimmjow to get his cast removed and to relay his memory recovery. About the same thing happened again, with Ichigo not allowing the doctor to touch him and Grimmjow holding him down. Except, instead of holding him down so that he wouldn't run away, Grimmjow had to hold him down so that he wouldn't punch the poor doctor. The doctor had stayed far away from the orange haired amnesiac when talking to Grimmjow about what needed to be done from then on. He no longer needed prescriptions--his arm was healed, so all that was left was his memory recovery.
It was going just fine, although a bit slower than the average rate. It was a bit alarming that each memory he regained wasn't specific, though. It was always vague. He couldn't remember any words being spoken, he could never see the setting all too well, and the faces of the people involved were blurred. It scared him a bit, made him feel empty. As if the emptiness was inching itself up his skin and absorbing him slowly, continuing each time that he couldn't properly someones face. The doctor had assured him that it didn't require much worry, the fact that he was getting memories back was already a very positive thing. It showed that he was indeed going to regain his memories-it just might take a bit longer than predicted.
Another thing about Ichigo was that he was a fast learner. While Grimmjow was at work, Ichigo still felt sort of useless. So he began to look up housework. He popped out the laptop and began searching, quickly learning how to do basic household chores. Cleaning, folding, washing and drying dishes, doing the laundry, how to use a vacuum cleaner, the best solution to use to mop the floors, just... everything. He read small articles one day and was a pro the next.
Grimmjow honestly wondered how the hell he did it. He himself might fold some clothes messily one day, and the next he would be absolutely clueless on how the hell he did it. The best he knew was to read the instructions on the laundry detergent and he could work the washer and dryer. That was it. Ichigo on the other hand, became useful around the household, basically becoming a live-in maid.
There was another quirk that Grimmjow had noticed about Ichigo. This was the weirdest one about the boy yet. Ever since Ichigo had taken up the job of preparing meals for the both of them, there would be one constant difference about the kitchen. Every time Grimmjow would walk into the kitchen, he would notice the knife block turned around, where the handles were unreachable.
After noticing this a few times, he decided to experiment. What would happen if he were to turn it around again? So he turned it back to its former position, where the knife handles were protruding from the wooden block to allow access to the small blades.
The next day when he checked, it was turned back around. Grimmjow's brows furrowed. What did this mean? Why would he keep on turning it around? Deciding to experiment further, he turned the block around again, and stayed somewhere close to the kitchen to watch Ichigo's reaction.
After a few hours of loitering around, dinner time finally came, and Ichigo stepped into the kitchen. Grimmjow stood next to the kitchen doorway, watching how Ichigo reacted. At first, Ichigo didn't notice it and immediately began pulling out pots and pans and taking food items out of the fridge. When he looked up for scissors to cut open packages, however, his gaze landed on the handle-out knife block.
The effect was instantaneous. He froze from behind the island, his gaze locked onto the block. His hands began to shake and the package that he held fell to the floor. His jaw clenched and his eyes dilated as he took a couple of steps back.
Fear.
Fear was coursing through Ichigo. Outright, body-mangling, paralyzing fear. Grimmjow nearly stepped into the kitchen to ask him what was wrong, why he was shaking. He was too shocked at Ichigo's actions to connect the dots between the reaction and the knife block. Just as he had thought about stepping inside, Ichigo slowly began to make his way around the island counter, his steps, slow and unsteady. He wobbled ever so slightly, getting closer and closer to the block.
When he finally stood in front of it, he reached out a shaking hand, pausing an inch or so in front of the block. All of a sudden, his hands snapped to the sides of the block and he spun it around, snatching his hands back to his chest as though they were burned. He stepped back a couple of steps, staring at the back-turned knife block for a few moments before he shut his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes and then turned around.
And he just walked back to the island counter and began preparing dinner. As though absolutely nothing had just happened.
Grimmjow felt goosebumps run up his skin; dread, fear and paranoia eating away at his consciousness. He stayed still and silent next to the doorway, stepping back further into the living room. He was startled, but he quickly connected the dots. Ichigo had a specific case of Aichmophobia. A massive fear of the pointed object called a 'knife'.
He kept silent about the whole ordeal, never telling Ichigo that he knew about what had happened. He just let things go about the way the were supposed to.
And it was just fine that way.
XXXXXXXXX
One day, as Grimmjow was stretched out on the couch, the topic of the past had come up between him and Ichigo. The orange haired man had caught sight of the rather large scar on his abdomen as his shirt had ridden up and questioned about it.
After being asked about it, Grimmjow had merely looked up and replied, "I will tell you everything you want to know about my past, including this scar, if you can tell me about yours." The comment had kind of hurt Ichigo, and he had grimaced, looking off at anything other than Grimmjow.
He murmured a small, "never mind then." He began to walk away, clutching the bottom of his shirt as a frown began to spread across his face. Seeing how upset Ichigo was, Grimmjow released a sigh and called him back.
Ichigo came back and plopped himself down in the leather chair, leaning back nonchalantly as if he didn't even care if Grimmjow was opening up to him. He watched the blue haired man expectantly, waiting for him to talk.
Grimmjow sat up and leaned against the back of the couch, frowning a bit as he watched Pantera jump into Ichigo's lap (something that she had not done willingly for him) and eagerly rub her head against his hand. Ichigo began to rub her head, massaging around the ears as she began to purr.
The blue haired man watched the cat with an irritated expression for a moment before lifting his gaze up to Ichigo's, only to have a scowl spread across his face. Ichigo was smirking victoriously.
The bastard.
"Long story short; my early life was a major piece of shit. I ended up getting pushed down stairs and had a huge chunk a broken artistic vase embedded in my abdomen. The end."
Ichigo felt a shiver run up his spine. Grimmjow was with-holding information. A great deal of it. He watched the teal-haired man for a moment, finally deciding that it was none of his business but still sympathetic nonetheless. "I'm... I'm sorry."
Grimmjow shrugged slightly. "It's fine. Everybody goes through shit sometimes. Some just more so than others." Ichigo merely shook his head and repeated himself. "I'm sorry."
The blue haired man let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back into the leather couch as Ichigo began to calm down a bit. They sat in silence before Ichigo spoke, eager to get rid of the quiet.
"I'm... I'm a bit scared to remember my past."
Grimmjow looked up, slightly startled and curious. "What?"
"I'm scared of my memories returning. Every time something invokes nostalgia, I hear a voice in my head telling me that I can't remember yet, urging me to move along."
Grimmjow's eyes furrowed. "A voice?"
"Yeah." Ichigo fidgeted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "It's like a conscience or something, I guess. It has a really hollow voice and always pops up whenever I feel like im going to remember something."
Grimmjow brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Sounds strange. Kinda freaky, if ya ask me."
Ichigo scowled, a little upset at how insignificantly useful Grimmjow was. He mentioned it for two reasons. Number one, to get Grimmjow's mind off of his no-doubt horrible past, and number two, to get a second opinion on the matter to make sure he wasn't going crazy.
Number one, accomplished.
Number two, failed.
Ichigo gave an annoyed sigh. "I'm... I'm just going to go make dinner." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, thankful to any and every god out there that his arm was no longer broken when he accidentally slammed it into the doorway. He let out a loud curse, turning around and flipping Grimmjow off when he gave a loud, barking laugh.
XXXXXXXXX
Later that night, when Ichigo sat on the couch, fixing to go to bed, he was absorbed deep into his thoughts. He was starting to become rather frightened. He knew that people weren't supposed to hear voices in their heads. It was abnormal. So why did he have a voice? Why did he have a voice in his head that didn't belong to him?
When his mind began to become fuzzy, he decided that it was time to sleep. He fell into a deep sleep and was drawn into a dream.
A dream of the past.
He was standing in the kitchen, alongside a tall woman. He was only about 9 or 10 at the time, so his eyesight only barely made it over the kitchen counter. He was affectionately talking to the woman about something--the words were unheard. As Ichigo relived the memory, he could also feel things around him, all of his senses other than his hearing seemed clear, as if it were happening in real life--but the feeling of nostalgia bumped that theory.
As the scene continued on in the dream, the sounds began to become clearer, breaking through the silence and growing in volume.
"What are you cooking..?" He could hear his younger voice ask the question as a smile spread across his younger-self's cheeks. The brown haired woman turned to him with a kind smile on her face.
"Just a simple casserole. Enchilada-style!" Her eyes squeezed shut as her smile widened when Ichigo licked his lips excitedly.
"Would you teach me how to make this? No. Teach me how to cook!" Ichigo felt his face crease into a pleading expression, his hands clasped together pleadingly. The woman laughed.
"Of course, my dear Ichigo." She pulled a stool to the counter and instructed him to step on it, handing him a wooden spoon. She guided him in how to stir it and then pulled out a large variety of spices, setting them all over the counter.
"Now look, dear. I'm going to teach you a magic trick that my mother taught me. The best way to make a dish turn out delicious is to use your nose and your tongue." She poked the tip of his nose and his lower lip, making Ichigo scrunch his face comically. The woman just laughed.
"First you have to taste it." She poured the sauce into a small bowl and pushed it his way, watching as he tipped it up to taste the sauce. He pulled the bowl away and frowned.
"It doesn't taste right." She laughed her melodic laugh again. "Exactly. Now, we have to add spices to make the magic. Smell it and then smell the spices." She did a small demonstration. "Then, put in the spices that match the smell the best." Ichigo eyed her warily, unsure of how such a thing would work. Deciding to put faith in her, he did as he was instructed.
She wouldn't let him continually taste it when he felt the need to add more spices. When they finally mixed it all together, she poured it into the bowl again, pushing it to the orange haired boy with a smile on her face. "Taste it."
He swallowed the sauce and then widened his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "It tastes really good!" The brown haired woman smiled. "See? Magic." She hugged Ichigo close, the young boy wrapping his arms as far around her as he could.
"Yeah. Magic. Thanks, mom."
"Now remember," she murmured in his ear. "Just because you know this trick, it doesn't mean you will be a master cook." She giggled lightly, her breath tickling his ear and causing goosebumps to raise on his neck. "You have to practice from now on. Okay?" He nodded, burying his head deeper into the folds of her shirt.
Ichigo, trapped in the small body of his past, could feel happiness swell, spreading all around him and engulfing him. His mom. His mother. He knew his mother, now. He knew her face and could remember one of his most precious moments with her.
Pulling away from Ichigo and brushing a loving hand against his cheek, she leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Now watch the food, okay? I have to go check on your sisters." She smiled and turned around at Ichigo's replied nod. She walked away a few steps, Ichigo still smiling whole-heartedly. When she got even further, however, he could feel dread clawing at his sides. Something was wrong.
He could feel the dream starting to continue into another scene, things beginning to pull to a different location. All of a sudden, everything froze.
His mother, the timer that had been counting down the minutes until the sauce was to finish, even the clock. Everything just stopped moving. Ichigo looked around anxiously, still trapped within his 9-year-old self's body. Everything that he could remember... was fading.
Not fading, exactly. More like... burning away. Ichigo could feel fear spread through his limbs. Black was crawling into the kitchen, eating away at all surfaces. The black began to turn everything to ashes, crawling closer and closer to where he and his mother stood.
His mother.
Panic seized Ichigo. He had to save his mother. He couldn't let her suffer. He had to get her away from this. It was dangerous. She had to get away.
Now.
He ran to his mother and began tugging on his mother's arm frantically to pull her away from the oncoming blackness. But she wouldn't budge. Time had frozen her and she couldn't move.
The blackness inched forward until it was only a few inches away from consuming his mother. And then....
Nothing.
Everything disappeared. The memory was gone. The image of his mother, the kitchen, of the oncoming danger was gone. Everything had turned to a blank white, and Ichigo found that he was in his normal, older body now. He was confused. He was about to call back on the memory when the voice from before interrupted and stopped him.
I'm sorry, King. But I can't let you do that. You cannot see that particular thing just yet.
Ichigo froze, focusing intensely on the voice. He could hear an echo--a water drop splashing into an even larger body of liquid. The air seemed to vibrate, ripples spreading out around his feet. He glanced down into the water that had taken up residence on the ground without his knowing, not noticing that there wasn't a reflection in the water. He crouched down, pressing his hand into the water.
"Wh..." He swallowed, pressing an urgent and wondrous question forward. "Why... who are you? Why do you exist within my mind?" He continued to stare into the water.
I'm here...
There was a pause, as though the entity were thinking of a suitable answer. All of a sudden, on the other side of the water a hand reached forward, pale in contrast and mirroring his own. A perfect reflection. He was finally gifted with an answer from the mysterious voice.
To protect you.
XXXXXXXXX
As he sat alone in the dark living room, Grimmjow's expression darkened. He listened into the receiver of his cell phone, waiting for the police to pick up so that he could finally report Ichigo as "found". The man was healed and gaining his memory back. He had no need for Grimmjow any longer.
A voice, huh? He let out a sigh for what seemed the millionth time that day, sucking in a breath as a click sounded from over the line and a female voice calmly spoke.
"This is 911 services. What is the problem?" He began to rattle off the story to the woman on the other line as a thought reverberated through his mind.
This could be a pain in the ass.
-Chapter End-
A/N: Review?
Author: Desperatembrace
Rating: NC-17 (Overall)
Summary: When Grimmjow is on his way home from overtime at work, he never expects to pick up a bloodied, half-naked, orange haired man off the side of the street. Nor did he expect to fall in love with him. It's funny how life works that way.
Extra Info: AU; Multi-chapter; Romance/Drama
Started March 27th.
Completed March 28th.
Authoress: Desperatembrace
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. If I did, Rukia's zanpakuto power would be shown way more often.
Warning:
Violence
Alternate Universe
Language
Sexual Content
Yaoi
Chapter 3
"Patient"
When Grimmjow and Ichigo walked through the doors of the doctors office, there was one thing that the orange-haired amnesiac noticed that he hadn't noticed before. Every person that they passed, male or female, no matter who they were, would turn and look at Grimmjow. And it wasn't just any kind of look or glance. It was most definitely a look that would scream either 'fuck me', 'look at me' or 'good god, hello sexy'.
At first he found it a little disturbing. But when they stepped up to the check-in desk and the woman behind the desk looked up from her computer only to have her eyes widen and a flirtatious smile cross her face, he found it... annoying.
He wasn't exactly sure why it was annoying. He just knew that it was. Ichigo ruthlessly squashed the urge to roll his eyes as his blue-eyed savior relayed his information and told the lady of their appointment.
Looking elsewhere to take his mind off of things, he glanced around at the rather large waiting room behind himself. It was very open-spaced, but crammed full of chairs, almost each seat taken up by a sick or injured person. He mused that it must be a rather popular or well-off doctor's office. After all, not many other doctors offices are quite so full.
At the quick and simple thought, he paused. He wasn't supposed to remember something like that. He had amnesia.
Why did he know that?
As Grimmjow quickly filled out the sheet handed to him by the desk-lady, Ichigo thought long and hard, delving into his mind as far as he could to pull out the memories that had almost resurfaced. But they kept on dancing out of his reach. He could vaguely feel the nostalgia left behind of the memory, but he was unable to catch the evading memory.
He sighed aloud in frustration, his small light of hope being crushed mercilessly.
Well, it's okay, I suppose. I do have amnesia after all. It's not like it's all just going to randomly come back to me... He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Grimmjow raise his voice, saying his name.
"Yeah?" Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow, his attention not fully on the man as he still half-ass tried to grasp the memory.
"Come on. The doctor is waiting. We almost lost the appointment because we were a few minutes late." At this, Ichigo cringed a bit before stiffly nodding and mumbling a quick agreement.
Grimmjow watched him for a moment before guiding him to the nurse that was waiting at the inner-door to show them to their private room. They headed deeper into the building, weaving through the blank white hallways. The nurse finally stepped up in front of a simple door and opened it, allowing the two men in before stepping in herself.
She closed the door behind herself and turned to where Ichigo and Grimmjow were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She waved her hand to both the chair in the corner and the examination bed. "Go ahead and sit. I'm just going to ask a few questions before I take down the basics-height, weight, blood pressure, and all that other stuff."
She settled herself into the stool next to the small counter and turned toward Ichigo, successfully (and amazingly) ignoring Grimmjow altogether.
"Alright, I noticed on the filled out sheet that you don't have a family name written down... or an age or anything like that. There is actually not very much information on here at all. Just your individual name... and a few injuries that you have." She watched the orange-haired man, curious for his response.
Ichigo nodded slowly. "Yes. I have amnesia." At this the woman leaned back a bit, her eyes widening in surprise as she brushed her brown hair out of her face, motioning for him to continue.
"The only thing I remember is bright lights, an immense relief... and then waking up in his apartment in a lot of pain." He pointed in Grimmjow's direction who was perked up slightly at the interesting new information. The brown-haired nurse turned her head in his direction, looking for affirmation.
The blue-haired man was crossing his arms, his face blank. He finally replied, "Yeah. He was unable to get out of an 18-wheelers path in time and his arm was hit, making him slam his head into the sidewalk. I imagine he already had many injuries before then but..." He shrugged slightly. "I just brought him home and had a friend look at him and then after he started feeling better, decided to bring him here."
The nurse nodded quickly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Almost like some kind of thing you read about in books, or see in movies!" Grimmjow frowned at this comment, thinking it over before replying. "That's usually only for romance stories."
The woman seemed to be surprised by this as she coughed into her hand slightly and frowned. "Oh, yeah. Sorry..." She gave a small sigh before reaching forward to tug on Ichigo's arm to pull him toward the weight scale, only to have jolt backwards out of reach. She gave him a questioning glance as he pinned her with an apologetic expression. He stood up and slowly made his way to the scale that she pointed out.
They quickly took down the basic information. He was rather healthy, actually. His blood pressure was really good (for someone so injured), his eye sight good although a bit fuzzy from the previous accident. He was a little happy when the nurse told him his height was a perfect 5'11", only to have his happiness ripped away from him when Grimmjow mentioned his own 6'1" stature.
They were finished relatively quickly with almost no incident (only Grimmjow having to wrap the blood-pressure pad around his arm and hold the stethoscope in place when the nurse was swatted away). The nurse put away her stethoscope and picked up the clipboard containing all of her notes on Ichigo's condition.
"Alright, I'm just going to go give these to the doctor. He will be with you shortly." She gave a half-moon smile and stepped out of the room, leaving the two men alone.
They sat in a simple silence, not quite awkward, but not quite comfortable. Ichigo began to wander through his head again, searching for the elusive memories. After many minutes a confident knock resounded on the door, opening and revealing a rather average almost-middle-aged man, his long blond hair tied back into a ponytail.
He gave a smile to the room's occupants as he stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He strode over to the previously occupied stool and sat down, flipping through the papers on his clipboard.
Ichigo just stared at the man for a moment. Wasn't this man supposed to like, say hello or something whenever he first walked in? Isn't that the manners that doctors and nurses were taught, to be friendly with their patients? After all, everytime he visited the doctor they would...
The orange-haired man cringed, the flash of a memory flitting through his mind. He shut his eyes, desperately chasing after it, but again, it escaped.
His eyes slid open as he heard Grimmjow calling his name again, turning to the blue-haired man. He had an irritated look on his face, most likely annoyed that Ichigo kept retreating into his mind.
Ichigo mumbled out a small apology as he turned to the doctor that had apparently been trying to converse with him and discuss his problems. He quickly reviewed all of the injuries listed on the sheet, confirming that there were in fact no other injuries.
"Well," the doctor said as he pushed his glasses further up his crooked nose. "It seems as if that doctor friend of yours did a rather good job with his injured cuts." He glanced at Grimmjow who was holding a squirming Ichigo down as the doctor looked at his marked up back. Every time the doctor would even think about touching his back, he would desperately try to get away from the probing and analyzing hand. Eventually the doctor had given up and just resorted to close visual examination.
"This wound right here," he pointed to the large slash across the expanse of Ichigo's back, "is very well stitched up. It will heal beautifully. Although there will still be scar tissue..." He gave the squirming orange-haired man an apologetic glance even though he was unable to see it.
"Well, I sincerely hope that Szayel doesn't hear that. It's only obvious that he'll go around gloating like the fucking annoying ass he is," Grimmjow murmured darkly under his breath. The doctor finally leaned back, obviously not having heard the blue-haired man. Grimmjow took that as his cue to release Ichigo. The orange-haired man slowly sat up, minding his broken arm. The doctor watched the defensive action before clicking his tongue.
"We're going to have to replace that with a stronger cast. That one will fall apart pretty quickly. Plus, it looks like you bathed with it." Ichigo gave the doctor an incredulous look. "What am I supposed to do? Not bathe until my arm heals?"
The doctor chuckled loudly, uncaring of the scowl that took residence on the man's face. "No, no, silly boy." Ichigo's scowl only deepened at the word boy. "You just have to keep it out of the water. Wrap it in a plastic bag or something." He stepped to the door and poked his head out, calling to a nurse and asking her to bring something.
The blonde doctor turned back around and faced the two, Grimmjow having fallen back into his seat in the corner of the room. "I'm going to have to give you a numbing shot and then break the thin cast that you've got right now." He pointed to the thin layered cast on Ichigo's arm. "Then I'm gonna redo the cast and make a 4 layer cast for you. It should be kept on the arm for..." He glanced at the sheets of information, nodding thoughtfully. "About four and a half weeks. You've already had that simple cast on for about a week and a half, so that should work out just fine."
Ichigo nodded slowly, still not fully understanding the process of casting his arm. Grimmjow let out a low sigh in his corner of the room before standing up and heading over to the amnesiac, sitting beside him. Ichigo tensed slightly, glancing at Grimmjow in a questioning manner.
There was a knock at the door, the young nurse from before stepping in with a small case of needles and the numbing solution in one arm and gauze and plaster in the other. She haphazardly dumped the armload of gauze and plaster onto the counter and situated the case of needles and the solution delicately next to it.
The doctor stared at the young woman for a moment before shaking his head and muttering under his breath as she turned around, scratching her head with an embarassed expression. She pulled one of the larger needles out of the case, quickly sterilizing it and filling it with the numbing solution. She handed the needle to the doctor who had already pulled on his plastic gloves.
Grimmjow, knowing what was going to happen, put his hand over Ichigo's eyes, who immediately began to try and squirm out of his grasp. He had to hold Ichigo down by the upper arm as the doctor leaned forward and poked the needle under the skin of his left arm, right above the elbow.
Ichigo let out a pathetic whimper, his fear escalating to unprecedented heights. He couldn't see what was going on. He had to know what was going on. He had to be able to see. There could be danger. And he would have to run.
Almost immediately after his flight instincts began to surface, Grimmjow pulled his hand away from Ichigo's face, slowly releasing him from his grasp. The amnesiacs eyes shot open, darting back and forth between the nurse and the doctors as he backed up on the examination bed. After a few moments of utter stillness from both the doctor and the nurse, he began to relax, glancing in Grimmjow's direction.
Grimmjow was watching his actions quietly, analyzing his every move. What made him fear being touched by a doctor? By a nurse? By anyone? He had to be physically held down by the blue-haired man himself for anyone to be able to come within a foot of him. The only person who could physically touch him was Grimmjow.
And he had begun to realize that very quickly. Thus why he took up the job of holding the poor frightened man down each time the doctor had to come close. It was interesting, but at the same time...
Frightening.
What in the world could make a man so afraid of people?
Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had to push those thoughts back. Right now, the doctor had to get up very close and very personal to be able to do what he was about to do.
Pushing the thoughts aside, he leaned his torso in Ichigo's direction, a serious look on his face. The orange-haired man stared at him, waiting for what Grimmjow was going to say.
"You're going to need to let him get close to you," he muttered. Ichigo stiffened. "It's the only way that arm of yours is going to heal. I'm not a medical professional-no matter what way I do it, it won't turn out right. You're going to have to let him undo that cast and rewrap your arm."
Ichigo was frozen, staring at Grimmjow. The words rolled around in his head, sending a dreadful, flopping feeling down to his stomach. He stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating before he finally gave a very stiff nod and released a shuddery whoosh of breath.
"Okay." It was said very quietly. So quiet, that the nurse standing behind the doctor only a meter away had to strain to hear the word.
The orange-haired man slowly scooted toward the doctor, to the edge of the examination bed. The crinkling of the layed out paper on the bed was the only sound heard in the room. He slowly held out his arm in the direction of the doctor, muttering to him, "it's already numb."
The doctor nodded his head, his eyes still on Ichigo as he reached back for the small shears. As soon as he leaned forward to cut off the cast, the amnesiac almost immediately began to hyperventilate, his eyes sliding shut. He grasped the fabric of Grimmjow's pants with his uninjured right hand, tightening it into a clenched fist. The doctor noticed the change, quickly doing his work and pulling the plaster material off before unwrapping the cotton padding underneath.
The arm was a little hard to look at. Anyone who saw it could most definitely tell that it was indeed broken. It was swollen quite a bit and was covered in a large, blue-yellow bruise.
Grimmjow put his hand over Ichigo's, awkwardly rubbing the top of his hand to comfort him. He wasn't really sure how to comfort anybody... it was a completely new concept to him. Ichigo's eyes stayed closed but his breathing had begun to lighten up significantly.
The doctor quickly pulled out a fresh roll of cotton padding from the drawers behind him and wrapped it around the arm. He then began wrapping the gauze and applying the custom plaster, repeating the pattern of gauze and plaster until 4-5 layers were done, the plaster finishing up the process. It was a special quick-dry plaster, to ensure that they wouldn't be waiting for it to dry for a long time.
When the doctor finally leaned back, Grimmjow shook Ichigo's hand lightly, signaling him to open his eyes. Ichigo's eyes slid open, anxiously and cautiously regarding the doctor who had scooted a ways back. After a couple moments, he finally regarded the new cast around his arm. It was a simple white cast, but as he lifted his arm and moved it around, he could tell it was sturdy.
As Ichigo observed the cast, poking and staring at it, the nurse collected the case and disposed of the needle in its special bin, wrapping up the cotton padding and stepping out the door with a smile directed in Grimmjow's direction. The door shut behind her with a click and the doctor cleared his throat.
"Alright, now the nurse has informed me of your amnesia." Ichigo glanced back up at the doctor, a wary expression on his face. The blonde doctor leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees.
"In some cases, the amnesiac's memories are not regained." He held his hand up as he saw the twin expressions of horror cross Grimmjow's and Ichigo's faces. "But in most, the memories come back over time, usually with certain triggers. You might experience something similar to something that has happened in your past, or even see somebody that you once knew and have some memories concerning that person come back. There are many different triggers that could bring back memories. You most likely fall in the latter category, and will regain your memory with time." Grimmjow nodded along with the doctor's words as Ichigo stayed silent.
The doctor specifically turned to Ichigo, speaking only to him. "Chances are that you will begin to have small memories make their way back to you very soon, so I want you to tell him," he pointed at Grimmjow, "each time you remember something. He will keep track of it." He eyed Grimmjow pointedly. "When you come back to have the cast removed, we will go over the progress of your memory recovery and analyze it from there."
Both men nodded in affirmation as the doctor stood up and made his way to the door. He opened the door and waved his hand to the outside. "Now all you have to do is talk to the receptionist, get your written prescription and then you may leave. Set up a new appointment for roughly 4 and a half weeks from today and we will have the cast removed and track the progress of your memory recovery."
Grimmjow and Ichigo walked out of the room, Ichigo wincing at the dull pain making its way up from his cut-covered feet. The doctor guided them back through the weaving hallways to the front desk. Grimmjow stepped up to the desk, beginning the arduous task of filling out more paperwork. Ichigo poked the man's side, gaining his attention.
"I'm going to run to the bathroom," he said as he turned and crossed the hallway with a slight limp and headed into the small bathroom. Grimmjow merely nodded and turned back to the paperwork.
Ichigo quickly took care of business and began washing his hands, lathering his hands up with soap and rinsing them. He glanced up at the mirror as he was washing his hands and paused. There was a flash across his eyes, a memory of long ago dancing through his mind. It was all run together and fuzzy, too-fast played, and yet... clear.
It was back from when he was young, and visited the doctor after getting injured in a fight. It was a small doctor's office that rarely had more than 10 patients in it at one time. He could remember arguing with the doctor about being a phony... and being told that smiles were the common courtesy. He had been about to punch the guy, but... The memory was interrupted when a burning sensation spread through his head, a major headache presenting itself to Ichigo.
He gripped his head tightly with both hands, leaning against the tiled wall of the bathroom and hissing in pain. The memory was trying to disappear, but he couldn't let it. He couldn't lose it.
He wouldn't.
He tried to press further into the memory, desperately grasping at the nostalgia that was wrapping itself around him. Just as he was about to grab the rest of the memory, a hollow, echoing voice pulled him away from it.
Don't. Not yet.
Ichigo let out a desperate gasp, the voice leaving as quickly as it came. He slowly released his head, the burning sensation of the headache slipping away. He stared at the opposite wall for a moment, contemplating what had just happened. Well, at least he had finally regained a memory.
That counted for something, right?
After thinking about it for a minute, his spirits were raised. He had to tell Grimmjow about what had just happened. The doctor had specified it.
He unlatched the lock and stepped out of the bathroom, a small smile on his face. He began to make his way back to Grimmjow only to freeze in his steps. The blue-haired man was standing in front of the nurse from earlier.
The nurse had her hands behind her back, her thumbs twiddling nervously. Her cheeks were flushed in an uncomfortable blush as she spoke to him. She reached into her pocket pulling out a slip of paper and quickly wrote digits on it.
Ichigo's stomach dropped. A phone number. She was flirting with Grimmjow and giving him her phone number. His lips pulled into a scowl.
Just like the rest of the women.
Ichigo turned on his heels and headed back into the bathroom to splash water on his face. When Ichigo did so, he missed Grimmjow shaking his head and pushing the slip of paper back to the nurse. The brown-haired woman frowned and walked away, her gait spelling disappointed.
Ichigo exited the bathroom again and walked up to Grimmjow, stopping beside him. The blue-haired man silently glanced at him before taking the slip of paper that the clerk behind the counter held out to him. With Ichigo's prescription list in hand, Grimmjow lead him out of the doctor's office and to the car.
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When in the car, Grimmjow glanced at his watch before turning to Ichigo. "It's still a little early. Even though it's a little dark out, do you want to go somewhere? The park, maybe?"
The blue-haired man half-expected the amnesiac to harp on him about not being a kid. So he was pleasantly surprised when Ichigo had stared thoughtfully at the street in front of them and nodded slightly.
"The park would be nice." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the statement before starting the car and putting it in drive, heading to the park nearby his house.
By the time they arrived at the park, it was already dark, the streetlights having lit up and illuminating the sidewalk with a yellowish glow. Grimmjow parked next to the sidewalk and got out, Ichigo following suit.
They quietly walked through the simplistic empty park, enjoying the greenery all around them. It was the most greenery in one spot in that particular city. Many of the citizens liked the park.
When Grimmjow had turned and glanced at Ichigo, he gave a large frown. He had forgotten that the man didn't have a jacket on. Ichigo was shivering, goosebumps covering his visible skin. And to go all the way back to the car just to get a jacket...
Grimmjow just shrugged. No harm, right? He pulled off his own jacket and plopped it on Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden weight on his shoulders. He turned and looked at Grimmjow, clutching the fabric closer to him with his uninjured arm. A smile lit across his face, thankful for Grimmjow's thoughtfulness.
They continued to walk in silence as Ichigo snuggled into the jacket. He could smell Grimmjow on it. A spicy, sweet smell-so contradicting, like cinnamon. He recognized it as the scent of the shampoo that he had used earlier that day.
The blue-haired man guided him to an empty bench, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit when he noticed Ichigo's limping becoming more profound. They sat together and enjoyed the quiet night in silence. Ichigo stared straight ahead, across the street at a small group of street-side stores.
The stores were still open, but didn't have customers. Ichigo lazily looked from window to window, glancing at each display item. Finally, his eyes stopped in one particular window, focusing on a particular item.
Grimmjow noticed Ichigo's attention was absorbed on something and glanced in the same direction. Ichigo was staring into an art shop's window, at the small display of art supplies. A small case of pencils, erasers, pastels, and other supplies stood up at an angle. But in the middle of the display, stood a simple leather-bound sketchbook.
Nothing was really special about it. It was just a sketchbook. Ichigo continued to stare at it for a moment before shaking his head and standing up slowly. "Let's go back." He received a nod from Grimmjow and they headed back to the car, buckling up and going back to Grimmjow's apartment.
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They got prepared for bed, Ichigo using some of Grimmjow's clothes for the night. He quickly got on the couch and snuggled up under the covers, hopeful for sleep to claim him.
Just as he began drifting off to sleep, Grimmjow tapped him on the shoulder, telling him he was going out to get a pack of cigarettes and Ichigo's prescriptions and that he'd be right back. Ichigo nodded sleepily and drifted back off, uncaring as he heard the main door shut behind Grimmjow.
When Ichigo woke up to the sound of Grimmjow's bedroom door clicking shut roughly a half hour later, there was a leather-bound sketchbook laying on the coffee table, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.
-Chapter End-
A/N: Review?
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Started April 4th.
Completed April 5th.
Authoress: Desperatembrace
Disclaimer(s): I do not own Bleach. If I did, Nel would be shown a whole lot more often. Nel is love.
Warning:
Violence
Alternate Universe
Language
Sexual Content
Yaoi
Chapter 4
"Helper"
When Grimmjow exited his room the next morning, he didn't expect his amnesiac charge to be awake. But the orange haired man was most definitely awake. He was turned around on the couch, his chin resting on the back of it, staring at Grimmjow as he shut the bedroom door.
Ichigo's eyes never left Grimmjow's form. He kept very silent, just staring at him. After a few moments of this, the blue haired man became uncomfortable, and in turn, irritated.
"What?" He snapped, startling Ichigo. The orange haired man glanced off to the side guiltily, quietly murmuring, "thank you." Grimmjow paused, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment. "For what?" He asked.
Ichigo leaned away from the back of the couch, revealing his arms crossed over a leather-bound sketchbook. The same one that he had bought for Ichigo the previous night.
Grimmjow's eyes widened slightly, remembering. He then softened his gaze, regarding the sketchbook and then Ichigo before replying, "yeah, yeah. Whatever."
He walked off into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
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Grimmjow had shown Ichigo where to find pencils and pens, on the shelf full of knick-knacks. He often had to use writing utensils himself for work, so he had plenty. Ichigo's eyes had lit up in excitement, eagerly grabbing some pencils and sharpening them to a sharp point.
It had been a rather lazy day, Ichigo lying around in the living room making random sketches and doodles in the sketchbook. Grimmjow habitually pulled out the prescriptions that he'd gotten the night prior and shoved them Ichigo's way.
They spent the day watching movies, listening to music, just enjoying each others company silently. It had been a rather unproductive day, but it was a good change of pace compared to Ichigo laying in bed unable to move and Grimmjow nursing him to health. It was also better than running around all over the city for mundane things.
Grimmjow found himself liking the unusual calm that the day produced. He was used to running around trying to finish projects for work or staying at work really late.
Lately, he had become accustomed to taking care of the amnesiac and trying to nurse him to health. It was a strange feeling, but most definitely not unwelcome.
He found himself becoming more attached to the orange haired man, becoming unable to imagine a life without him. Yes, they occasionally got into fights and arguments, but days like this, days full of silent compatibility, days of quietly enjoying each others company made it all worth it.
It scared him a bit.
He had never been so attached to anybody. He had always pushed them away and liked it like that. He wasn't a people person. What little friends, acquaintances or companions he had were rather distant. It was the way things had always been.
But this man, this orange-haired brat, was getting underneath his skin at a startling rate. He enjoyed teasing him, enjoyed arguing with him, enjoyed talking with him, enjoyed being around him. He had never found someone so... enjoyable.
He's very interesting, he mused as he watched Ichigo lean closer to the sketchbook, furiously trying to get the perfect shape. I like to be around him. Even if he is a brat. He added the last bit to save what little dignity he had for himself.
He buried his face in his hands, a tired sigh escaping his lips. What the hell is going on with me? He thought as Ichigo glanced up and smiled. I really can't get too attached to him. It'll just end badly.
And so he decided to distance himself from the amnesiac.
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Over the next few weeks, Ichigo had began to become antsy. Grimmjow had started going back to work and he was left at home, with little to do but draw. His sketchbook was almost completely filled. Grimmjow had even taken to leaving his spare laptop out for Ichigo to mess around on, but even that didn't keep his attention for many days. He began to grow worried.
Grimmjow didn't talk to him much anymore. Granted, he never really talked much from the beginning, but he most definitely noticed the change, and there was much less conversation.
He became a bit worried about what he was supposed to do, also. He stayed at home drawing all day while Grimmjow had to go to work and earn money. Ichigo wasn't doing anything productive even though most of his wounds have long healed (save for his broken arm). He wanted to help out. But with what? He didn't have any memories, and therefore no job. As far as he knew, he didn't have any knowledge on how to do household chores. And he did feel rather guilty about the maid quitting because of him...
How could he help Grimmjow out? Each night the man came home later and later, downright exhausted and still had to do things around the house.
One night his concerns were solved when Grimmjow came home and began preparing dinner, throwing a bunch of vegetables and meat into a large pot for a stir fry. Ichigo sat at the island counter, watching him tiredly pour in various spices to bring out the flavor.
When he reached for a certain spice however, Ichigo shot up from the counter and snatched it out of his hands. He ignored Grimmjow's befuddled expression and untwisted the cap as he leaned over and smelled the stir fry before sniffing at the spice. His own expression twisted into a grimace, quickly twisting the cap back on and putting it back on the spice rack.
"Don't put that in there." Grimmjow just continued to stare at him. Ichigo stepped back with a blush when he realized how close he was to the blue haired man. "Sorry..." He looked up, the blush slowly disappearing from his cheeks. "You can't put that spice in there." He pointed to the one that he had just deposited back in the spice rack. "It'll make it taste too sweet."
Grimmjow finally snapped out of his confusion, pinning him with a questioning look. "And how the hell would you know that?" Ichigo paused at the question, thinking it over.
He didn't really know himself. He just... knew. He thought a bit harder, the nostalgic feeling trying to make its way back. Ichigo focused even harder, vaguely remembering doing the same thing in the past, leaning over the meal to get the scent and then smelling the spice to see if it matched.
His eyes were hazy, absorbed in the small flash of a memory. Grimmjow snapped his fingers twice, gaining the orange haired man's attention again. "Hello? Did you hear me? How did you know that?"
Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows a bit, slightly annoyed that Grimmjow had cut off his memory. "I think... I used to do that in the past. Use the smell to decide on the spices..." He trailed off a bit, trying to grab hold of the memory again.
Grimmjow's eyes widened in recognition. "You're starting to remember? How much?" Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh when the memory danced out of his reach again. "Not much. Just a vague memory of cooking..."
The blue haired man stared at him for a moment, torn between the feeling of excitement and irritation. He was finally remembering something..! But... it was only a vague, hazy memory. It didn't have much use in bringing back the amnesiac's memories altogether.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating. Maybe he wasn't going to regain his memories. Maybe he was going to continue on in his life without remembering who his parents were, who his friends were, all of the experiences that he had. How would it be to live such a life? To continue on without knowing anything about your childhood? Without knowing anything about--
Grimmjow was pulled out of his thoughts when Ichigo loudly yelled. "Ahh!!" Grimmjow turned to Ichigo with a questioning look on his face, pulling out of his thinking pose. "What the hell is it now?" He growled.
Ichigo was startled for a moment before smiling excitedly. "I know how to cook! I can help out around here now!" Grimmjow stared at him, blinking his eyes in confusion.
Is that what...? The blue haired man let out a quick exhale of breath, his mouth twitching upwards in amusement. "Why are you so adamant on helping out around here...?" He questioned aloud, more to himself.
Ichigo didn't answer and just kept on staring at Grimmjow happily, willing him to accept the proposal. He stubbornly stayed silent, staring at Ichigo without any expression.
After a few moments, his will finally crumbled as he let out a sigh. "Alright, fine. You can cook for the both of us from now on. But it had better be good. You can start cooking tomorrow," he said as he eyed the stir fry. He snatched up a large wooden spoon and stirred before nodding, turning off the stove-top. "We've got a meal to eat."
They sat down to eat dinner, Ichigo happily shoving food in his mouth. He took a large gulp of water when an un-chewed portion of food got lodged in his throat. It didn't dampen his mood, though. He could finally help out!
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Over the course of the next few days, Grimmjow had taken Ichigo to nearby convenience stores and shown him around them, so that he could go shopping himself. They were all within walking distance and Grimmjow had begun to trust that Ichigo could take care of himself. He found that out the hard way when they had gotten into a fight over whether Ichigo could really fight or not. He had finally admitted to the small memory from the doctor's office a few weeks back and had another memory of another fight in his childhood.
Upon relaying these memories, Grimmjow had snorted, saying that Ichigo couldn't hurt a fly. Ichigo had flared, insisting that he could take anyone on at any time.
That had ended with Ichigo getting a rather large bruise on his not-broken arm.
And with Grimmjow receiving a busted lip.
Needless to say, Grimmjow began to realise interesting things about Ichigo. The primary being how predominant his personality was becoming. When Ichigo had first woken up a couple of days after the incident that he was found, he was a blushing, shy boy who wanted nothing but to go back into an eternal sleep. Now, he was a fiery, defensive fighter who had no qualms about punching his savior for insulting him.
Not that Grimmjow held any grudges against him.
One quirk about Ichigo that he noticed was his use of hats. Ever since he had bought a hat for Ichigo all those weeks ago, Ichigo had kept it atop his head. He especially insisted upon wearing a hat when he went to the store for grocery shopping. He had eventually gone out and bought a few more hats for variety, getting tired of seeing the same hat on top of the man's head. It was interesting to say the least.
A week or so passed and Ichigo went back to the doctor with Grimmjow to get his cast removed and to relay his memory recovery. About the same thing happened again, with Ichigo not allowing the doctor to touch him and Grimmjow holding him down. Except, instead of holding him down so that he wouldn't run away, Grimmjow had to hold him down so that he wouldn't punch the poor doctor. The doctor had stayed far away from the orange haired amnesiac when talking to Grimmjow about what needed to be done from then on. He no longer needed prescriptions--his arm was healed, so all that was left was his memory recovery.
It was going just fine, although a bit slower than the average rate. It was a bit alarming that each memory he regained wasn't specific, though. It was always vague. He couldn't remember any words being spoken, he could never see the setting all too well, and the faces of the people involved were blurred. It scared him a bit, made him feel empty. As if the emptiness was inching itself up his skin and absorbing him slowly, continuing each time that he couldn't properly someones face. The doctor had assured him that it didn't require much worry, the fact that he was getting memories back was already a very positive thing. It showed that he was indeed going to regain his memories-it just might take a bit longer than predicted.
Another thing about Ichigo was that he was a fast learner. While Grimmjow was at work, Ichigo still felt sort of useless. So he began to look up housework. He popped out the laptop and began searching, quickly learning how to do basic household chores. Cleaning, folding, washing and drying dishes, doing the laundry, how to use a vacuum cleaner, the best solution to use to mop the floors, just... everything. He read small articles one day and was a pro the next.
Grimmjow honestly wondered how the hell he did it. He himself might fold some clothes messily one day, and the next he would be absolutely clueless on how the hell he did it. The best he knew was to read the instructions on the laundry detergent and he could work the washer and dryer. That was it. Ichigo on the other hand, became useful around the household, basically becoming a live-in maid.
There was another quirk that Grimmjow had noticed about Ichigo. This was the weirdest one about the boy yet. Ever since Ichigo had taken up the job of preparing meals for the both of them, there would be one constant difference about the kitchen. Every time Grimmjow would walk into the kitchen, he would notice the knife block turned around, where the handles were unreachable.
After noticing this a few times, he decided to experiment. What would happen if he were to turn it around again? So he turned it back to its former position, where the knife handles were protruding from the wooden block to allow access to the small blades.
The next day when he checked, it was turned back around. Grimmjow's brows furrowed. What did this mean? Why would he keep on turning it around? Deciding to experiment further, he turned the block around again, and stayed somewhere close to the kitchen to watch Ichigo's reaction.
After a few hours of loitering around, dinner time finally came, and Ichigo stepped into the kitchen. Grimmjow stood next to the kitchen doorway, watching how Ichigo reacted. At first, Ichigo didn't notice it and immediately began pulling out pots and pans and taking food items out of the fridge. When he looked up for scissors to cut open packages, however, his gaze landed on the handle-out knife block.
The effect was instantaneous. He froze from behind the island, his gaze locked onto the block. His hands began to shake and the package that he held fell to the floor. His jaw clenched and his eyes dilated as he took a couple of steps back.
Fear.
Fear was coursing through Ichigo. Outright, body-mangling, paralyzing fear. Grimmjow nearly stepped into the kitchen to ask him what was wrong, why he was shaking. He was too shocked at Ichigo's actions to connect the dots between the reaction and the knife block. Just as he had thought about stepping inside, Ichigo slowly began to make his way around the island counter, his steps, slow and unsteady. He wobbled ever so slightly, getting closer and closer to the block.
When he finally stood in front of it, he reached out a shaking hand, pausing an inch or so in front of the block. All of a sudden, his hands snapped to the sides of the block and he spun it around, snatching his hands back to his chest as though they were burned. He stepped back a couple of steps, staring at the back-turned knife block for a few moments before he shut his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes and then turned around.
And he just walked back to the island counter and began preparing dinner. As though absolutely nothing had just happened.
Grimmjow felt goosebumps run up his skin; dread, fear and paranoia eating away at his consciousness. He stayed still and silent next to the doorway, stepping back further into the living room. He was startled, but he quickly connected the dots. Ichigo had a specific case of Aichmophobia. A massive fear of the pointed object called a 'knife'.
He kept silent about the whole ordeal, never telling Ichigo that he knew about what had happened. He just let things go about the way the were supposed to.
And it was just fine that way.
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One day, as Grimmjow was stretched out on the couch, the topic of the past had come up between him and Ichigo. The orange haired man had caught sight of the rather large scar on his abdomen as his shirt had ridden up and questioned about it.
After being asked about it, Grimmjow had merely looked up and replied, "I will tell you everything you want to know about my past, including this scar, if you can tell me about yours." The comment had kind of hurt Ichigo, and he had grimaced, looking off at anything other than Grimmjow.
He murmured a small, "never mind then." He began to walk away, clutching the bottom of his shirt as a frown began to spread across his face. Seeing how upset Ichigo was, Grimmjow released a sigh and called him back.
Ichigo came back and plopped himself down in the leather chair, leaning back nonchalantly as if he didn't even care if Grimmjow was opening up to him. He watched the blue haired man expectantly, waiting for him to talk.
Grimmjow sat up and leaned against the back of the couch, frowning a bit as he watched Pantera jump into Ichigo's lap (something that she had not done willingly for him) and eagerly rub her head against his hand. Ichigo began to rub her head, massaging around the ears as she began to purr.
The blue haired man watched the cat with an irritated expression for a moment before lifting his gaze up to Ichigo's, only to have a scowl spread across his face. Ichigo was smirking victoriously.
The bastard.
"Long story short; my early life was a major piece of shit. I ended up getting pushed down stairs and had a huge chunk a broken artistic vase embedded in my abdomen. The end."
Ichigo felt a shiver run up his spine. Grimmjow was with-holding information. A great deal of it. He watched the teal-haired man for a moment, finally deciding that it was none of his business but still sympathetic nonetheless. "I'm... I'm sorry."
Grimmjow shrugged slightly. "It's fine. Everybody goes through shit sometimes. Some just more so than others." Ichigo merely shook his head and repeated himself. "I'm sorry."
The blue haired man let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back into the leather couch as Ichigo began to calm down a bit. They sat in silence before Ichigo spoke, eager to get rid of the quiet.
"I'm... I'm a bit scared to remember my past."
Grimmjow looked up, slightly startled and curious. "What?"
"I'm scared of my memories returning. Every time something invokes nostalgia, I hear a voice in my head telling me that I can't remember yet, urging me to move along."
Grimmjow's eyes furrowed. "A voice?"
"Yeah." Ichigo fidgeted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "It's like a conscience or something, I guess. It has a really hollow voice and always pops up whenever I feel like im going to remember something."
Grimmjow brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Sounds strange. Kinda freaky, if ya ask me."
Ichigo scowled, a little upset at how insignificantly useful Grimmjow was. He mentioned it for two reasons. Number one, to get Grimmjow's mind off of his no-doubt horrible past, and number two, to get a second opinion on the matter to make sure he wasn't going crazy.
Number one, accomplished.
Number two, failed.
Ichigo gave an annoyed sigh. "I'm... I'm just going to go make dinner." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, thankful to any and every god out there that his arm was no longer broken when he accidentally slammed it into the doorway. He let out a loud curse, turning around and flipping Grimmjow off when he gave a loud, barking laugh.
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Later that night, when Ichigo sat on the couch, fixing to go to bed, he was absorbed deep into his thoughts. He was starting to become rather frightened. He knew that people weren't supposed to hear voices in their heads. It was abnormal. So why did he have a voice? Why did he have a voice in his head that didn't belong to him?
When his mind began to become fuzzy, he decided that it was time to sleep. He fell into a deep sleep and was drawn into a dream.
A dream of the past.
He was standing in the kitchen, alongside a tall woman. He was only about 9 or 10 at the time, so his eyesight only barely made it over the kitchen counter. He was affectionately talking to the woman about something--the words were unheard. As Ichigo relived the memory, he could also feel things around him, all of his senses other than his hearing seemed clear, as if it were happening in real life--but the feeling of nostalgia bumped that theory.
As the scene continued on in the dream, the sounds began to become clearer, breaking through the silence and growing in volume.
"What are you cooking..?" He could hear his younger voice ask the question as a smile spread across his younger-self's cheeks. The brown haired woman turned to him with a kind smile on her face.
"Just a simple casserole. Enchilada-style!" Her eyes squeezed shut as her smile widened when Ichigo licked his lips excitedly.
"Would you teach me how to make this? No. Teach me how to cook!" Ichigo felt his face crease into a pleading expression, his hands clasped together pleadingly. The woman laughed.
"Of course, my dear Ichigo." She pulled a stool to the counter and instructed him to step on it, handing him a wooden spoon. She guided him in how to stir it and then pulled out a large variety of spices, setting them all over the counter.
"Now look, dear. I'm going to teach you a magic trick that my mother taught me. The best way to make a dish turn out delicious is to use your nose and your tongue." She poked the tip of his nose and his lower lip, making Ichigo scrunch his face comically. The woman just laughed.
"First you have to taste it." She poured the sauce into a small bowl and pushed it his way, watching as he tipped it up to taste the sauce. He pulled the bowl away and frowned.
"It doesn't taste right." She laughed her melodic laugh again. "Exactly. Now, we have to add spices to make the magic. Smell it and then smell the spices." She did a small demonstration. "Then, put in the spices that match the smell the best." Ichigo eyed her warily, unsure of how such a thing would work. Deciding to put faith in her, he did as he was instructed.
She wouldn't let him continually taste it when he felt the need to add more spices. When they finally mixed it all together, she poured it into the bowl again, pushing it to the orange haired boy with a smile on her face. "Taste it."
He swallowed the sauce and then widened his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "It tastes really good!" The brown haired woman smiled. "See? Magic." She hugged Ichigo close, the young boy wrapping his arms as far around her as he could.
"Yeah. Magic. Thanks, mom."
"Now remember," she murmured in his ear. "Just because you know this trick, it doesn't mean you will be a master cook." She giggled lightly, her breath tickling his ear and causing goosebumps to raise on his neck. "You have to practice from now on. Okay?" He nodded, burying his head deeper into the folds of her shirt.
Ichigo, trapped in the small body of his past, could feel happiness swell, spreading all around him and engulfing him. His mom. His mother. He knew his mother, now. He knew her face and could remember one of his most precious moments with her.
Pulling away from Ichigo and brushing a loving hand against his cheek, she leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Now watch the food, okay? I have to go check on your sisters." She smiled and turned around at Ichigo's replied nod. She walked away a few steps, Ichigo still smiling whole-heartedly. When she got even further, however, he could feel dread clawing at his sides. Something was wrong.
He could feel the dream starting to continue into another scene, things beginning to pull to a different location. All of a sudden, everything froze.
His mother, the timer that had been counting down the minutes until the sauce was to finish, even the clock. Everything just stopped moving. Ichigo looked around anxiously, still trapped within his 9-year-old self's body. Everything that he could remember... was fading.
Not fading, exactly. More like... burning away. Ichigo could feel fear spread through his limbs. Black was crawling into the kitchen, eating away at all surfaces. The black began to turn everything to ashes, crawling closer and closer to where he and his mother stood.
His mother.
Panic seized Ichigo. He had to save his mother. He couldn't let her suffer. He had to get her away from this. It was dangerous. She had to get away.
Now.
He ran to his mother and began tugging on his mother's arm frantically to pull her away from the oncoming blackness. But she wouldn't budge. Time had frozen her and she couldn't move.
The blackness inched forward until it was only a few inches away from consuming his mother. And then....
Nothing.
Everything disappeared. The memory was gone. The image of his mother, the kitchen, of the oncoming danger was gone. Everything had turned to a blank white, and Ichigo found that he was in his normal, older body now. He was confused. He was about to call back on the memory when the voice from before interrupted and stopped him.
I'm sorry, King. But I can't let you do that. You cannot see that particular thing just yet.
Ichigo froze, focusing intensely on the voice. He could hear an echo--a water drop splashing into an even larger body of liquid. The air seemed to vibrate, ripples spreading out around his feet. He glanced down into the water that had taken up residence on the ground without his knowing, not noticing that there wasn't a reflection in the water. He crouched down, pressing his hand into the water.
"Wh..." He swallowed, pressing an urgent and wondrous question forward. "Why... who are you? Why do you exist within my mind?" He continued to stare into the water.
I'm here...
There was a pause, as though the entity were thinking of a suitable answer. All of a sudden, on the other side of the water a hand reached forward, pale in contrast and mirroring his own. A perfect reflection. He was finally gifted with an answer from the mysterious voice.
To protect you.
XXXXXXXXX
As he sat alone in the dark living room, Grimmjow's expression darkened. He listened into the receiver of his cell phone, waiting for the police to pick up so that he could finally report Ichigo as "found". The man was healed and gaining his memory back. He had no need for Grimmjow any longer.
A voice, huh? He let out a sigh for what seemed the millionth time that day, sucking in a breath as a click sounded from over the line and a female voice calmly spoke.
"This is 911 services. What is the problem?" He began to rattle off the story to the woman on the other line as a thought reverberated through his mind.
This could be a pain in the ass.
-Chapter End-
A/N: Review?