Please Forget About Me
Byakuya frowned at his hands in the mirror, watching as his fingers struggled with the silk tie under the stiff collar buttoned around his neck. He had practiced this a dozen times in Seireitei, yet he still could not seem to get the hang of it. Failure was never an option with him, however, and so he kept trying, his frustrated efforts producing nothing save a vaguely lumpy knot around his neck and the beginnings of a headache just over the bridge of his nose.
He glanced over his shoulder through the mirror and frowned. It didn’t help that his fukutaichou was currently jumping up and down on the hotel bed like a five-year-old child.
“WoooohooHOOOO!!!” The mattress threatened to break, springs clanking together with each impact from the gigai’s heavy feet. “Come on, Taichou!! You should try it!!!” He arched his head back and crowed again, the sound no doubt traveling through the thin walls into the next room over.
Byakuya ignored him and returned to the impossible task at hand. This, of course, was not his first expedition into the mortal realm, though in the past he had naturally always had assistance in assembling his wardrobe. But it had been some time since he had last visited, and as he had lately begun to feel the influence of living in close proximity to a certain redheaded shinigami, he now felt the growing urge to actually do things on his own. Perhaps Renji had been out of line when he’d teased his taichou about hiring a maid to wipe his ass for him, but the point had been made-perhaps in more ways than one, as that same redheaded shinigami had also spent a week on the couch before being invited back onto his taichou’s futon.
Enough was enough, however. Eventually, he simply dropped his hands and stared down at the tie around his neck with expressionless malice.
The clanking of the mattress springs urged the pain between his eyebrows on to newer and greater heights. “What’re you so nervous about, anyway?” Bounce, bounce, bounce. “It’s just Ichigo’s family.”
He frowned again. A fleeting thought crossed his mind as he focused once again on his own reflection, studying the suit he was wearing. Could it be worn without the tie? No. Questions would be asked; he would be forced to admit the truth. Unacceptable.
Bounce, bounce, bounce-THUD. Renji’s footsteps were surprisingly soft against the carpet, not the usual heavy thump, thump, thump his feet made against the floors at home.
“I thought you practiced this back home.”
Byakuya watched through the mirror as his fukutaichou walked up behind him. “I did.”
“Here, lemme do it.” His expression did not change as the younger shinigami slipped his arms around him and started fiddling with the tie.
“I don’t need your help,” he said, but he made no move to stop Renji, whose fingers proceeded to deftly knot the tie before carefully pushing it up under the collar.
“That too snug?”
Byakuya stared at him through the mirror. “You’re not dressed.” He was still in just his t-shirt and boxers. It was admittedly not an entirely unappealing look for him. It was, however, highly inappropriate for an engagement dinner.
Renji just shrugged. “No hurry. Thought I’d take a shower.”
“There isn’t time.”
The strong, bare arms lowered a little, encircling his chest now, holding him close. “There ain’t nuthin to be worried about, Taichou. Trust me.” The younger shinigami lowered his head to press a few kisses against Byakuya’s neck after first nuzzling aside a few strands of dark hair.
“I’m not worried.”
“You’re stiff as a fuckin’ board.” The kisses teased his skin, nipping playfully at his flesh, arms hugging him tighter.
A slight frown tugged down at the corner of his mouth now. “I’m not worried,” he repeated. “Renji, we don’t have time for this.”
Renji lifted his head to grin back at him through the mirror, the expression bordering on lecherous. “Aww, come on. You always say that.” His grin widened as he hugged Byakuya even more tightly against his chest and started to move his hips, thrusting playfully forward, moving his captain’s body slowly against his own.
Byakuya just stared at him, his face impassive.
Renji swore and finally released him. “Geez. Okay, fine, I get it.” He made a face and turned for the bathroom, reaching up as he went to tug his shirt off, revealing more of the jagged, black marks trailing from his shoulders down to the center of his back. A second later, the shower came on, the sound of the spray hitting the tiles somewhat muffled by the half-closed door. Byakuya stared through it for a second before facing his reflection again, glad that Renji hadn’t noticed how tight these pants were and how little they concealed. Duty and honor came first, and he would not for his life have his sister and that cretin future husband of hers speculating about why he and Renji were late.
* * * End of Part 1 * * *
p.s. The title is taken from Janove Ottesen's "Forget About Me" which just reminds me so much of Byakuya's situation after Hisana and how he feels about being in a relationship again. Lyrics:
She said
Please, won't you get off my back?
Can't you see that I'm in pain? You know,
I will never let you pull me back in again
A lot of things have changed lately.
It's not up to you to save me
And there's no turning back, this is it.
I'm on a one-way track
Not looking back
So, won't you please forget about me
And let me be. Don't try to save me
But, it would only be a lie,
if I told you I do not miss her
Her eyes, and her smile,
and the words she used to whisper
But, the lord only,
knows how much I have prayed
And the lord only knows about my lonely days
And you could've been mine, and I could have
been yours
But it would be a lie
if I told you I do not miss her