When to Run Away
Title: When to Run Away
Characters: Ikkaku (ratherbe4gotten ), Yumichika (day_eight )
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst and sap
Disclaimer: We don't own Bleach or its characters; Ikka and Yumi are much older than 18.
Summary: Sometimes it takes almost losing someone to realize how much they really mean to you.
When to Run Away
Note: This takes place in Rukongai, before Ikkaku and Yumichika go to Seireitei. Also, in the story, Ikka and Yumi are not yet a couple.
Yumichika limped and stumbled down the dusty dirt road, clutching at his blood soaked kimono. The wound on his stomach was pretty severe, but he dared not stop to check it until he was someplace safer. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, his gasping breaths steadying a touch when he realized he wasn't being followed. Every inhale pulled a sharp pain from his chest, and he came to the conclusion that at least two of his ribs were broken. His face was bruised and, he flicked his tongue forward tentatively, his lip was split. As if in a daze, he staggered blankly up the stairs and into the small room that he shared with Ikkaku.
Upon entering, Yumi immediately turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with the bald man on the other side of the room. Biting his bleeding lip and trying to stem the tears welling in his eyes, he stumbled over to the small dresser and opened one of the drawers. He reached out to grab a clean kimono, but stopped short as the blood dripping from his fingers caught his eye. His vision went hazy, the scarlet on his hand blurring into its surroundings. A faint gasp fell from his lips as he reached out to steady himself against the dresser. Everything seemed to spin as his knees gave out and he sank to the floor, shivering and panting softly.
Ikkaku didn’t pay much attention when he heard soft footfalls on the narrow backstairs that led to his shared room. Yumichika was due back soon anyway-not that many others in the rough Rukongai district they called home had such quiet steps anyway. The door opened, and for a moment his hand stilled on his sword, before the fingers gripping the sharpening stone continued their job. He didn’t like making a big deal out of things, and Yumi returning from some errand or other wasn’t a big deal. The stone swished down the blade another time, before something prickled across his shoulder and he dragged his head up. He could smell blood.
His eyes brushed over his friend, as the slight brunette reached out to grip the edge of the dresser. “Yumi?” The sword clattered against the wooden boards of the floor as he stood, he reached down to pick it up reflexively, his stomach clenching.
“Oi Yumi, what the fuck is going on?”
He dropped the sword on the bed as he saw his friend start to sink to the floor. Something irrational swam through his gut. He didn’t let himself think as he made it across the small room in barely two steps, crouching next to Yumi where he sat. His hand reached out, but he pulled it back, unsure how to react. Attempting to rein in his confusion before it became frustration, he tried again. “Yumi?” he finally asked, his voice somewhat hesitant.
The pain... it was fierce and potent, rapidly spreading through Yumi's torso and into his limbs. His body shook as he tried to drag his breathing back under control. Every moment seemed slower than the last, and he realized that he had lost too much blood. Looking down, he inspected his clothes, only to find that the whole front of his person was now stained deep, dark red. The sight mesmerized him, and he stared at it, his vision growing blurrier by the second.
A voice called out to him, forcing him to raise his head and blink away the haze swimming in his eyes. A voice... Ikkaku's voice. Ikkaku. He widened his eyes and tensed, immediately flinching at the stabbing pain that coursed through him when his muscles clenched. There was movement behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps, and a rustling of clothing as Ikkaku stopped next to him. Turning his face away, he blinked back tears and tried to force his lips into a smile.
"It's nothing, really," he said softly, turning and looking at his friend through a curtain of dark hair. Blood dripped from his chin, and he hastily reached up to wipe it away. "I just... ran into a bit of trouble. Please don't worry."
He didn't want to lie... not to Ikkaku. His mind spun frantically, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation that wouldn't upset the man beside him. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Ikkaku found out... if he knew... A tear worked itself from the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.
Nothing? What the fuck was Yumi talking about? If he knew anything, it was about blood and fighting, and whatever had happened to his friend was definitely not ‘nothing’. He could feel his heart start to race as Yumi turned to him, adrenaline fighting down the shock of seeing that usually composed face bruised and bleeding. His hands clenched at his sides, as he fought the urge to reach up and brush away the fall of hair so that he could see the other man’s eyes.
His eyes ran across Yumi’s clothes, taking in the dirt and blood even as he felt the tension in his muscles start to bunch. So much blood-harsh crimson against that perfect pale skin. It wasn’t right. His jaw clenched as he bit down on his anger. Yumi wasn’t meant to get hurt like this. He watched as a tear rolled down the other’s cheek and something inside him started to snap, anger and frustration held in check by little more than a tattered thread.
The wound on Yumi’s stomach seemed to be the worst. Finally, he forced himself to reach out his hand, calloused fingers meant for a sword hesitant as they touched the torn cloth. The cut was deep. His stomach lurched.
“Yumi, who did this to you?” He looked up from the bloodied wound, his eyes finally searching out the other’s. “Yumichika, who hurt you?” His words were ice, the cold calm just managing to hold back the barely tempered flames of anger he could feel threatening to consume him.
Another tear slid down Yumi's cheek. It burned, scorching slowly across his bruised flesh. Blinking, he brushed it away, smearing the blood on his face with the movement. He bowed his head and tried to think clearly. Shame and guilt tore through him, more painful than his wounds, making him close his eyes and shudder. Ikkaku was worried, and it was his fault. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced-to be so helpless and weak in front of the only man he looked up to.
Something moved toward him, and he recoiled at the unexpected touch. The flinch tugged at his wounds, and he gasped silently, losing focus of everything but the pain. After the surge of hurt subsided, he looked back at Ikkaku, just barely registering the words that were being directed at him.
Who? He shook his head. Ikkaku didn't need to know... couldn't know. Yumi swallowed and ducked his head when the coldness of the other's voice sank in. He had upset his friend... and no wonder. It was all his fault-he had been careless, and stupid. Nothing could amend for his weakness.
"Ikkaku..." He tripped on his own tongue, trying to find the will to speak. "Ikkaku, I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough... I wasn't...." Turning his head again, he let his voice trail off, the tears now freely streaming down his face.
Ikkaku drew his hand away, unable to deal with causing Yumi any more pain. He sat back on his heels, a sick feeling of helplessness rushing through him. The emotion shocked him and he quickly pushed it away, down out of reach, willing something more familiar to take its place.
He couldn’t deal with this, couldn’t deal with the pain and hurt on his best, his longest friend’s face. He wasn’t stupid, he knew something out of the ordinary had happened. Despite appearances, Yumi had spent as many years as he had living in some of the toughest conditions Rukongai could throw at them. No, whatever had happened was something else.
Frustration ripped through him as he watched the brunette shake his head. Why was he hiding them from him? They needed to pay, they needed to hurt and bleed before he let them find death. His fists clenched as Yumi turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.
His friend’s words drifted over him, soft and almost sobbing, and he lost what little control he’d had left. He needed to know who had done this, who had managed to put this shame and self doubt into someone who had never let anything or anyone get him down. Something started to niggle at the back of his mind, something wrong, more so than just the bloodied state of the other man.
Jerking to his feet, he turned his back to Yumi. "Tell me who did this to you," he demanded. He couldn’t take this. His fist slammed out into the wall, plaster and wood falling away from his knuckles unnoticed. His chest heaved as he tried to hold onto his self-control. An edge of pleading crept into his voice. “Tell me who it was, Yumi. Tell me what they did. I need to know.” His thoughts spun. Oh gods, Yumi. Tell me that the wounds I can see are the worst thing that happened.
Yumi watched Ikkaku out of the corner of his eye, fighting to hang on to consciousness. He winced as his friend stood and turned away from him. It really didn't surprise him that Ikkaku didn't want to look at him when he was in such a state, but the rejection he felt still smarted like a knife wound. His body convulsed as he fought the urge to vomit, his own actions deeply sickening him. There was no excuse for his pathetic behavior.
A loud noise drew him from his self-loathing, and he flinched as Ikkaku's fist made contact with the wall. Struggling to stand, he got up on his knees and gripped the edge of the dresser. Pulling himself up, he straightened his back and tried not to groan as another bolt of pain struck him. He walked over and tentatively placed a hand on Ikkaku's back, his frown deepening when he felt how tense the larger man's muscles were.
"I'm sorry..." He hung his head. "Please forgive me..."
His thoughts were starting to get muddled, and he desperately tried to wrestle them back into order. He sighed as more tears dripped from the ends of his nose and chin. It was pointless to hide anything from Ikkaku. He just hoped that the other man wouldn't hate him for what he was about to say.
"There were... four of them, I think. Maybe five." He squinted, trying to make out the details in his head. "They came out of no where, I didn't have time to... I didn't have time..." The words sounded like an excuse, and he cringed as he said them. This was the worst thing... to admit his failure to Ikkaku, the only person he cared for and trusted. He knew how much fighting, how much winning meant to the other man. It gutted him to admit his defeat. Shame flushed his cheeks and he dropped his hand to his side, swaying and fighting to remain upright.
Ikkaku pressed his eyes closed, hoping that Yumi would give him something, a name, a description, anything that he could go on. Fighting was all he knew. His friend was hurting, and the only thing he could offer was bloody and violent retribution. It wasn’t enough, but he just didn’t have anything else to give.
His thoughts were so caught up with trying to rein in his anger that he barely registered Yumi’s movements behind him until he felt a gentle hand on his back. He flinched before he had a chance to think, instinctively moving away from the unexpected touch. Quiet words reached his ears and he blinked his eyes open. His brow furrowed; he was completely lost by what Yumi was saying. Forgive? What could Yumi have ever done that someone like him could need to forgive him?
He wanted to turn and take a hold of his friend, shake some sense into him, but before he had time to ask what Yumi meant, the soft-spoken works began again. His stomach lurched as details finally started to tumble free. He listened, horrified, the words barely audible over the pounding of his blood in his ears.
There was so much shame and hurt in his friend’s voice that the sense of something wrong finally cut though some of his own frustration. Yumi’s hand fell from his back and he turned, needing to see the other’s face, to try to understand what he was trying to say. The paleness of Yumichika’s skin startled him and his hand came out to steady the other man without thought. His eyes searched Yumi's before he turned his head away. “Yumi...” His words faltered as his frustration flared again. He didn’t know how to do this, didn’t know what he was meant to say.
A strong hand held Yumi steady, and he nodded appreciatively. Everything was slipping into a jumbled mess, and he shook his head, trying to think coherently. The hand that held him was firm, yet gentle, and it felt comforting. Looking up, he met Ikkaku's gaze and blinked, confused by the emotion he saw written across the other's face. Was that... concern? Or, perhaps it was disappointment. He hung his head again, figuring that it was the latter.
"Ikkaku, I..." he began, trying to come up with the right words. "I couldn't... I wasn't... There were just too many and..." His voice had fallen to barely a whisper, the words almost too difficult to say. He screwed his eyes shut and turned away, trying to escape Ikkaku's touch. He felt sick, dirty, and ashamed. How was he supposed to admit something so awful? He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself tightly, trying to will away the guilt and pain.
"They tried to force me," he said quickly, nearly choking on the bitter words. His gaze and hands worked their way to the front of his torn kimono, lingering over the still-bleeding wound. "They attacked me and pinned me down and..." He paused, winced, and skipped over the details. "I couldn't... they wouldn't... I fought... but there were just too many... so I ran."
A heavy sob wrenched its way from his chest as his last words fell into the quiet room. He had fled. Ikkaku would never tolerate such weak behavior, Yumichika was certain of it. Blinking back tears, he stood as straight as he could and braced himself for whatever reaction his failure would draw from the man behind him. He deserved... he didn't know what he deserved, but he would not have blamed Ikkaku for leaving him there and never speaking to him again. The tears began to flow freely again, making him feel even worse. He was being such a coward.
Ikkaku could hear his own heart pounding as Yumichika started to speak again. Part of him didn’t want to know, couldn’t deal with the rawness of the other’s pain. He watched, confused, as his friend tried to pull away, his fingers unwilling to give up their grip, curling into the cloth of Yumi’s kimono.
Somehow he had known what was coming next, before Yumi even spoke, making the thoughts he had pushed away a harsh reality. He closed his eyes, a grimace twisting his face. Emotions raged through him. He wanted to fight, to take out his frustration on someone before it consumed him. Blood-lust was already boiling up from the pit of his stomach, but something else coiled round his chest, tight enough to hurt.
Confusion twisted up inside of him. He didn’t want this. He lived to fight, nothing more. He didn’t want any attachments, didn’t need any ties to this place. He felt the anger burning under his skin. Someone had hurt Yumichika-he could deal with why that tore into him so deeply later.
He loosened his grip on the ruined cloth and pushed himself back. Somewhere past the anger, he found cold, hard hate. His fist lashed out and he hit the wall again, a growl forcing his way out of his chest as he let his eyes fall closed and tried to drag his breathing back under control.
He glanced back up, his eyes searching out Yumi, even though his gaze was hazed red with rage. “I’m gona kill them, I’m gona kill them for even thinking they could...” He couldn’t even say it. It hurt him physically to think that someone could have tried, could have come so close to hurting Yumi that way.
Turning away, he shook some of the tension from his shoulders and moved to grab his sword, all other thoughts pushed from his mind.
Something like dread sank to the pit of Yumi's stomach when he felt and heard Ikkaku move away. Turning around, he lowered his head and watched Ikkaku from beneath his eyelashes. His body twitched involuntarily when Ikkaku's fist connected with the wall. He inhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling wildly out of control. It was his fault. Ikkaku was upset and it was all because of his own frailty, his own shortcomings.
He was just about to collapse onto the floor when the other's words penetrated his grief and pain, snapping him back to reality. Kill... them? The dread in his core deepened and tightened, gripping his insides with icy fingers. Stumbling forward, he rushed after Ikkaku, reaching the larger man before he had a chance to move out the door.
"Ikkaku..." he pleaded, reaching forward and grasping the other man's arm. Tugging his friend around so that he could see his face, Yumi bit down on his broken lip and sniffed away a sob. His hands clung to the fabric of Ikkaku's clothes, working their way up and coming to rest on either side of that face he knew so well. Stumbling, he fell into the body in front of him, trying desperately to stay on his feet.
"Ikkaku, please..." he looked down, unable to meet that hard stare. Anger and hate radiated from Ikkaku's body, and Yumi blanched at the sheer, overwhelming power of the raw emotion. He didn't want to let Ikkaku go... didn't want him to fight or bleed for him. There was nothing he could do to make up for his defeat, but he wasn't about to see his best friend get hurt because of it. His shaking, bloody fingers stroked the sides of Ikkaku's face.
"Please... please stay with me," he whispered, looking up and searching the other's eyes. His breathing was jagged and his heart was pounding wildly out of control. "I don't care what they did to me, it was my own fault for being so weak." The words rushed from his mouth before he could contain them. "If something were to happen to you... I don't think I... I don't think I could live."
His head swam and he lost all sense of balance. Making one last effort to stay standing, he rested his head on Ikkaku's shoulder, a shaky breath falling against the other's neck before he lost control and began to sink to the ground.
Ikkaku was lost in thoughts of the fight he knew lay ahead. He barely registered his name coming from the other man. He turned as Yumi grabbed his arm, ready to push the other man away, reaching out to peel his friend’s fingers from his clothes. Yumi stumbled into him and his hands came up instinctively, gripping the backs of the brunette's arms to steady him on his feet. Something inside of him shattered as Yumi's shaking hands caressed his face. He blinked down at the man in front of him, the anger fuelled haze slowly pulling back until he could no longer hide from the hurt clawing at his chest.
Yumi was shaking, not just his hands, but his whole body. How had he failed to notice that before? Words washed over him, sinking in without any real comprehension. Yumi wanted him to stay? What could he do if he stayed? All he was good for was fighting, blood, and violence. His thoughts were still spiraling as Yumi’s head came to rest on his shoulder, the soft breath on his neck jolting him as if it had been a naked flame. Fighter's reflexes were all that let him catch the smaller man before he slid to the ground. He didn’t let himself think as he pulled his friend in closer to him, careless of anything other than holding on to him and trying to withstand the confusion of emotions running through his head.
Slowly, some of Yumi’s words registered and he finally realised what his friend had been trying to say. “Gods no, Yumi.” The words were almost growled, but his anger was only aimed inwards now. “You’re not weak.” Was that really what his friend had been thinking? That he would turn away from him because he had failed to win against such overwhelming odds? “Those bastards are sick.” He felt some of his earlier frustration start to rise again, but he pushed it down, storing it away for later.
He pulled his head back so the he could see Yumi’s blood and tear stained face. The sight tore through him, the true horror of what he was seeing hitting him in his stomach now that he was no longer shielded from it by a blanket of anger and hate. His hand came up to brush away the tears from a purple bruised cheek, his own fingers almost shaking with the effort to make sure he didn’t hurt his friend any further. Even like this, the other man was beautiful. His eyes trailed across perfect features, the last of the resolve he hadn’t even known he was clinging to starting to crack.
Strong, firm arms held Yumi upright, and he relaxed into them gratefully. The room was spinning wildly around him, making him close his eyes and rest his head against the chest in front of him. Ikkaku's bold, steady heartbeat rang in his ears, grounding him to the moment and helping him remain lucid. It seemed a bit ironic to him-that he had always craved to be in Ikkaku's embrace, but had never felt it before. He inhaled deeply, the breath shuddering in his chest before he exhaled it slowly.
Angry words fell down from above him, and he winced at the tone of his friend's voice. A second later, his eyes flew open wide when he heard Ikkaku say that he wasn't weak. Of course he was weak. He shook his head. If he had been strong, he would not have had to run away. The shame of his defeat burned through him again, and he buried his face in Ikkaku's chest. He wasn't sure why the victory orientated man would even want to look at him after such a hideous loss.
"But..." he began after a moment, his voice faltering with the word. "I ran, Ikkaku. You never would have done something like that. I should have stayed and fought. I should have let them..." his voice trailed off again. He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut. "I should have died, rather than run away. It's what you would have done." His fingers tightened in Ikkaku's clothes.
Yumi pushed away from the other man, not wanting to linger in that embrace any longer-it made him even more ashamed. He didn't deserve Ikkaku's friendship, not any more. They had talked about fighting, bleeding, and dieing countless times over the years they had known each other. Every time, Ikkaku had said the same thing-that he would rather die than surrender. It was one of the things Yumi admired most about him. He had tried his best to become a strong and capable fighter, someone Ikkaku would be proud to have by his side. But, apparently he had not succeeded. Burying his face in his hands, he fought the urge to groan in frustration. "Please forgive me..." he whispered, digging his fingertips into his scalp. "I failed you."
Ikkaku had never hated himself like he did in that moment, had never felt as much shame as he did when he heard Yumi’s words sobbed against his body. How could he have let his friend come to believe those things, why hadn’t he seen it earlier? He had been so caught up in his own anger-he shuddered in a breath, finally letting himself admit what he had been trying to avoid-in his own fear for the man he had tried for so long to keep at arms length, he had been blinded to what he was seeing.
He was such a fucking idiot. He squeezed his eyes closed, as Yumi tried to pull away from him. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. The brash, bold words that were all he knew were no good to him now. He watched in growing horror as Yumi hid himself behind his hair and hands. The beautiful man who had never hid himself from anyone, who he had grown to admire and respect for his own subtle strengths, for his resilience, his loyalty, his courage to never bow to what another expected. Anger at the people who had done this to Yumi started to seep back under his skin him, but it was buried now under his concern.
Reaching up, he carefully drew Yumi’s hands from his face, bringing them down to his sides, before allowing them drop, the pads of his fingertips trailing down the brunette’s fingers until they slipped free. He let his thumb trace Yumi’s jaw, cupping his hand under the other’s chin to bring his face up. “You could never fail me…never…” His words trailed off. His eyes searched across bruises and half clotted cuts, barely seeing them; instead, he finally let himself see the man in front of him. His other hand came up to smooth across Yumi’s hair. His eyes settled on soft, swollen lips, and his heart pounded in his chest. Slowly, he brought his own lips down to brush the corner of Yumichika’s mouth, barely a kiss, before he let his forehead rest against the other’s. “Yumi…”
Yumi flinched when Ikkaku touched him, still on edge after what he had been through. Letting his arms fall down, he watched as the other man's fingers slid over his own. He wondered why his pulse jumped at the touch. Before he had a chance to think of an answer, his chin was being pushed up by a rough, yet gentle hand. He looked into Ikkaku's eyes for a moment before averting his gaze, a faint blush working over his bruised cheeks. Ikkaku had looked at him many times, but never so intently. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to turn away; he didn't want his friend to see him looking like such a mess.
He was about to pull away again when Ikkaku's voice drifted past his ears. Could it really be? Blinking, he looked up at the other man, a thread of hope stirring in his chest. He had been certain that Ikkaku would hate him for running away, for giving up, but... His heart leaped. What he saw in his friend's eyes wasn't hatred, or even anger. It was something else, something that made his cold limbs trickle with warmth.
A hand brushed across his hair, and he closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. The gentle touches were unexpected, but nice, and kept his mind off the throbbing pain. His mind was still in a haze, not really processing the things that were going on. He was vaguely aware of Ikkaku's body next to his, but failed to recognize the significance of it. Something lingered in the back of his head, something like anticipation and excitement, but it was overwhelmed by confusion and doubt.
Something warm and soft tickled the corner of his mouth... it felt like a puff of air, a breath. His eyes flew open, violet irises gleaming in surprise. Ikkaku was inches away, and getting closer. Time slowed for a second and his heart tried to escape from his chest. He closed his eyes again as Ikkaku's lips met his, daring not to open them for fear of waking up from whatever dream he had wandered into. His hands reached out to tangle in the other's clothing, grasping at the fabric like his mind was trying to grasp the situation.
The thrill of warmth that spread through his body didn't surprise him; he had been in love with Ikkaku for many years. It had never occurred to him, however, that anything other than friendship would be passed between the rough man and himself. He had never even hoped to reach Ikkaku's heart, buried away under all that blood-lust and fierce resolve.
Sighing, he opened his eyes and let his gaze sweep over the man in front of him. Things were happening so fast... he felt like he was spinning in circles. A shiver of pain worked through his body, reminding him of his wounds. "Ikkaku..." his voice was still weak, but a bit less strained. "I need to stop the bleeding."
Yumi’s words dragged Ikkaku back to the moment. He was used to blood and wounds taken while fighting, but he had taken for granted how he had come to rely on Yumi fixing him up when things got out of hand. He nodded, reluctantly letting go of his friend enough to help him to the bed. He looked Yumi over, finally forcing himself to see how gravely his friend was hurt. The sight of the slight brunette bruised and battered, covered almost from head to toe in blood and dirt, shook him to his core.
Digging through the chest at the end of the bed, he pulled out a bag filled with bandages, dumping them down on the floor. He fetched water and stood it next to the bandages, all the while trying not to think about who it was that was laying hurt and bleeding on the cheap, woolen blankets of his bed. He caught Yumi’s eyes for a moment, before helping the other man sit up a little more. Slowly, he started to peel away the tattered kimono from the top half of his friend's body. He winced, as pale shoulders slipped free, revealing fresh purple bruises across Yumi’s lightly muscled chest. He could see the mark of a heavy boot on the other’s ribs, where someone must have kicked. His face hardened, a scowl forming as he bit down on his anger, but his fingers were feather light as they brushed across the damaged skin. His fingertips tingled with the sensation, but he didn’t let himself think about how Yumi’s body felt beneath the touch of his hand. He was willing to bet that the ribs under the bruise were broken. He was starting to appreciate the effort it must have taken Yumi just to get himself home.
He pulled the kimono down a little further, biting down on his lip as the ragged cloth caught and tugged on half drying blood. His stomach lurched, as he watched Yumi’s face for signs of pain. He suddenly wondered how Yumi must have felt each time he had been forced to do this for him. His mind swam back to the patient, gentle hands that had cleaned his wounds, even as that familiar voice had chided him for his lack of caution, to the concentration on the other’s face as he had stitched closed ragged wounds, Yumi's hands steady even when his voice shook. He owed Yumichika more than he had even known.
Yumichika sank down onto the bed with a sigh, thankful to be off his feet. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and tried to steady his breathing. He listened to Ikkaku move around the room, opening his eyes when he heard the larger man return to him. It seemed odd to be the one needing care; usually it was the other way around. Fighting was a major part of Ikkaku's life, so patching him up after he had been brawling was something that Yumi had long since become accustomed to. Although his friend was more than capable of taking care of himself, Yumi always insisted on being the one to tend to his wounds. His thoughts lingered on the many times they had been in that exact situation, but with their roles reversed. Somehow it seemed completely different, now that he was the injured one.
Sitting as straight as his wounds would allow, he let Ikkaku slide his kimono over his shoulder. A soft gasp fell from his lips as sword-hardened fingers came into contact with his skin-not because of the pain, but because the touch stirred something else inside of him. He furrowed his brow, troubled that such a sensation would come up at that particular moment. Pushing it away, he pursed his lips and focused on remaining upright while Ikkaku inspected the damage done to his body.
He watched with dazed fascination as his kimono was pulled down further. A grimace threatened to work over his face as the scabs that had already begun to form over his wounds were peeled away, but he managed to smile weakly, letting Ikkaku know that he was okay. The pain shivered through him, clearing away some of the fog that had been seeping through his mind. His eyes widened a touch as the full meaning of what had just happened began to sink in. Ikkaku hadn't been upset that he had run away. Ikkaku had kissed him. The corner of his mouth tingled with the memory of the other man's, making him touch his fingers to his lips.
Trying to dispel the blush that was beginning to creep up his neck, Yumi ducked his head and smiled a bit more. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up to meet the other's gaze. He let his chin fall back down and looked at Ikkaku from beneath his dark, long lashes. This was a side of his friend that he had never witnessed before-one that was caring and... gentle. His smile widened. It was certainly a change of pace... but it was nice.
Ikkaku had barely done anything, but Yumi was beginning to feel better already. The steady motion of the larger man's movements soothed him, breaking apart his doubt and shame bit by bit. His shivering body began to relax, the flight-or-flight reflexes that he had been clinging to finally settling down. More than anything, though, it was Ikkaku's strength and confidence that calmed him the most.
There was no one else who could have dragged the restraint from him that it was taking just to care for the wounds without causing any undue pain. There was something about Yumi that dug free parts of himself that he had long forgotten ever existed, let alone allowed himself to think on. He looked up again, to find violet eyes searching out his own. A lopsided grin tugged onto his mouth, as Yumi’s whispered thanks fell on his ears. “Idiot,” he murmured. The word was barely audible over his breathing as he shook his head and bent back to look at the task in front of him. He wasn’t going to let Yumi know how much those few softly spoken words meant to him, he would never hear the end of it.
The smaller man let him clean the wound without complaint, barely flinching at what he knew from experience to be a something that must have been causing him a hell of a lot of pain. He reached forward to pass the bandage around Yumi’s back, as he bound the worst wound. He stilled, pausing as he found himself leaning in closer to the other man. The scent that was Yumichika was somehow still present on his pale skin, despite the layers of blood and dirt that remained. Moving back, he tied the bandage off, not letting himself think of how that soft, subtle scent had left him suddenly wanting to run his hands across the man in front of him.
There was little that could be done for the rest of the wounds. Scrapes and bruises would take time to heal, as would the broken ribs, but there was not much else he could do other than wash them clean. He worked as quickly as he could, barely trusting himself to keep his hands on Yumi’s skin. The gentle warmth radiating off the other’s body threatened to spark a different kind of heat inside of him.
He looked up at Yumi as he finished working, the time taken to treat the many wounds lost to him. Leaning on the bed in front of his friend, he brought his hand up to brush back a stray strand of hair that had fallen forward across pale skin. Without the blood and dirt, the cuts and swollen bruises somehow looked worse. Outside the sun was low on the horizon, the open window leaving slants of gold across the bare floorboards.
“You should sleep,” he offered, his voice sounding strange to his own ears after the long silence, an awkwardness falling across him now that his task was done.
Yumi placed his palms on the bed behind him, leaning back to give Ikkaku better access to the wound on his stomach. He watched intently as careful hands cleaned and treated the cut, fully aware that his friend was going out of his way not to hurt him. Every touch, every movement was deliberately and painstakingly gentle. The care written into Ikkaku's movements relaxed him, and he felt the tension in his muscles wash away with the dirt and blood. A rising heat pooled in his aching body, warming his shivering core and pushing out through his skin.
Ikkaku shifted and moved closer, reaching behind him and wrapping the bandage around his torso. He held his breath, suddenly conscious of just how close the other man was. Something fluttered in his stomach and he closed his eyes, scarcely daring to breathe until Ikkaku moved away. Sighing, he leaned back on his elbows and continued to observe in silence, letting his eyes wander over the other's frame. He studied the curve of Ikkaku's broad shoulders... the gentle pulse, just barely visible beneath the soft skin of his neck... the muscles of his chest that rippled fluidly beneath his clothing...
Blinking, Yumi turned his head and tried to concentrate on something else. His gaze wandered to the window, to the setting sun outside. The last of its tired rays bathed the sky in warm, amber light, making the dingy section of Rukongai that they lived in look pretty, for once. He sighed again and tilted his head back, letting his hair cascade down onto the bed behind him. The only sound in the room was their breathing, and he listened to it with closed eyes, the time sweeping by effortlessly.
Ikkaku's voice drew him out of his thoughts and he drew his head up to look at his friend, a smile playing on his lips. "That sounds good," he agreed, nodding. He brought his feet onto the bed and stretched out on his side, soft tendrils of dark hair falling over his face. Bringing a hand up, he brushed them aside and gazed at Ikkaku sleepily. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching out to touch the other's arm. The two words didn't seem to convey how grateful he was, but they were all he had to offer.
Curling up on the bed, he brought his knees in close and closed his eyes. Sleep was calling, but a part of him wanted to stay awake, wanted to remain in that peaceful moment forever. Opening his eyes, he smiled again and squeezed Ikkaku's arm. "Stay with me?" he asked softly, peeking at his friend through the curtain of hair that had fallen back in front of his face.
Ikkaku waited for Yumi to reply, his eyes trailing across the other’s soft, supple skin. Yumi was more beautiful, more perfect, than he had ever let himself admit, maybe because of the harsh wounds that now adorned him, rather than in spite of them. Those ugly marks made it impossible to dismiss just how close he had come to losing the other man, his best friend. The one person who had stuck with him through thick and thin, no matter what mess he had dragged them into, no matter how often his temper and over inflated pride had come close to getting them both killed.
He ached to brush his fingers though the soft fall of hair that had fallen to frame Yumi’s face. Silently cursing himself, he tried to shake the other man from his thoughts, turning his head away. “It’s fine,” murmured, unsure what to do with the open praise. Yumi’s touch felt like fire on his skin, yet he could feel the moment slipping away from him; feel himself drifting back to his self-imposed detachment. The walls he had spent so long constructing suddenly didn’t look so inviting, but he didn’t know how to stop the distance he could feel between them growing again.
Yumi’s next words hit him deep in his chest. He turned back before he had a chance to think, his eyes searching out the other’s. Part of him wanted to refuse, knowing full well once he crossed that line there would be no going back. No way to convince himself that the other man was nothing more than a convenient companion, a friend who could always be replaced. His gaze fell on the intensity of those violet eyes, and he realised that maybe it was already too late. Taking a breath he nodded, waiting for Yumi to move over and make room.
Grabbing the softer blanket from Yumi’s bed, he climbed on to his own narrow sleeping space with the other man, throwing the soft wool over both of their bodies. Lying still, he let Yumi find a way of resting that wasn’t too uncomfortable, closing his eyes and willing away thoughts of that soft skin as it brushed against him.
Yumi pressed his his lips together and waited patiently for an answer. Part of him expected Ikkaku to refuse, but a glimmer of hope lingered deep inside of him. His tired eyes lit up when he saw his friend nod, genuine happiness finding its way through the anxiety and fatigue that still had a hold on him. He moved over the side of the bed, being careful not to reopen his wounds and waste all of his friend's hard work.
Holding his breath, Yumi stilled his movements and waited for Ikkaku to lay down next to him. Once they were both situated, he sighed and leaned into the other's warmth. Reaching out, he traced his hand up Ikkaku's arm, enjoying the soothing feel of heated skin beneath his fingertips. The stress of the day began to take its toll, wearing down his mind and making his eyelids heavy. Looking across the pillow, he caught Ikkaku's gaze and held it, a tired smile finding it way to his lips. He wanted to say something, wanted to express how glad he was that Ikkaku had stayed, but couldn't find the words. The fog that had been trying to take over his mind for the last hour finally took hold, erasing any coherent thoughts he might have had.
His hand continued its quest upwards, his fingers dancing lightly across the other's arm until they reached a muscular shoulder. He slid his hand down and flattened it over Ikkaku's chest, pressing it over the beating heart within. Closing his eyes, he gave in to the welcoming darkness awaiting him. "Ikkaku..." he whispered, the word slipping softly from between his lips before he fell asleep.
Ikkaku drew in a slow breath, trying to adjust to the strangeness of another body lying against to him. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to taking someone to his bed, but this was very different to passing out in a drunken stupor after some sake-fueled fuck. He was almost painfully aware of every brush of Yumi’s limbs against his, of the warmth that sank from the other’s body into his skin.
Yumi’s fingers trailed trickles of liquid heat across his arm and he glanced up to find his friend looking at him, a soft smile his lips. There was an underlying warmth in the depths of those violet eyes, before long lashes swept down to shield them. He wondered just how long Yumi had wanted this, how long he had managed to ignore that heat in his friend’s gaze. His name fell from those bruised lips and let himself shift, drawing the other man in closer to him. A smirk twisted on his lips.
Gradually, he felt Yumi’s breathing slow, as his wounds took their toll and he drifted towards sleep. He let himself relax against the lithe body wrapped around him, but he knew that he wasn’t going to find sleep. His eyes closed in the darkness, but without Yumi to take his mind from it, his thoughts were drawn back to his earlier anger. Part of that frustration was aimed inwards at himself, as Yumi’s words and actions when he had returned played over and over in his head. To have stayed would have been surrender, to have let them tear what they wanted from his body. He would make sure Yumi understood that when he woke, but first he had shown these animals what it was like to become the hunted, to be cut down.
The first light of dawn found a familiar tension coiling through him. Shifting carefully, he let his fingers brush across the other’s face. His fingers stilled at the corner of Yumi’s mouth where he had pressed his lips earlier, before he pulled his hand away and slipped out from under Yumi’s touch. The dawn air was cold against his skin. Padding silently across the small room he grabbed his sword, slipping towards the door without letting himself look back.
He flicked his blade up with his thumb, letting his eyes trail over the razor sharp steel, before letting the sword slips back into the sheath and tucking it securely into his obi. He closed the door behind him. A twisted grin tugged onto his lips, as he wondered what Yumi would have to say when it was the beautiful brunette’s turn to patch him up once again when he got back.
Something tickled across Yumi's face, gently rousing him from his sleep. He just barely opened his eyes, just in time to see Ikkaku leave the bed and head for his sword. Something inside of him welled in his chest when he realized what his friend was going to do. It wasn't fear, or even guilt... it was something warm and comforting. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Ikkaku walk towards the door. The bald, head-strong man would never change, but that's what Yumi loved about him.
Characters: Ikkaku (ratherbe4gotten ), Yumichika (day_eight )
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst and sap
Disclaimer: We don't own Bleach or its characters; Ikka and Yumi are much older than 18.
Summary: Sometimes it takes almost losing someone to realize how much they really mean to you.
When to Run Away
Note: This takes place in Rukongai, before Ikkaku and Yumichika go to Seireitei. Also, in the story, Ikka and Yumi are not yet a couple.
Yumichika limped and stumbled down the dusty dirt road, clutching at his blood soaked kimono. The wound on his stomach was pretty severe, but he dared not stop to check it until he was someplace safer. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, his gasping breaths steadying a touch when he realized he wasn't being followed. Every inhale pulled a sharp pain from his chest, and he came to the conclusion that at least two of his ribs were broken. His face was bruised and, he flicked his tongue forward tentatively, his lip was split. As if in a daze, he staggered blankly up the stairs and into the small room that he shared with Ikkaku.
Upon entering, Yumi immediately turned his head to the side, avoiding eye contact with the bald man on the other side of the room. Biting his bleeding lip and trying to stem the tears welling in his eyes, he stumbled over to the small dresser and opened one of the drawers. He reached out to grab a clean kimono, but stopped short as the blood dripping from his fingers caught his eye. His vision went hazy, the scarlet on his hand blurring into its surroundings. A faint gasp fell from his lips as he reached out to steady himself against the dresser. Everything seemed to spin as his knees gave out and he sank to the floor, shivering and panting softly.
Ikkaku didn’t pay much attention when he heard soft footfalls on the narrow backstairs that led to his shared room. Yumichika was due back soon anyway-not that many others in the rough Rukongai district they called home had such quiet steps anyway. The door opened, and for a moment his hand stilled on his sword, before the fingers gripping the sharpening stone continued their job. He didn’t like making a big deal out of things, and Yumi returning from some errand or other wasn’t a big deal. The stone swished down the blade another time, before something prickled across his shoulder and he dragged his head up. He could smell blood.
His eyes brushed over his friend, as the slight brunette reached out to grip the edge of the dresser. “Yumi?” The sword clattered against the wooden boards of the floor as he stood, he reached down to pick it up reflexively, his stomach clenching.
“Oi Yumi, what the fuck is going on?”
He dropped the sword on the bed as he saw his friend start to sink to the floor. Something irrational swam through his gut. He didn’t let himself think as he made it across the small room in barely two steps, crouching next to Yumi where he sat. His hand reached out, but he pulled it back, unsure how to react. Attempting to rein in his confusion before it became frustration, he tried again. “Yumi?” he finally asked, his voice somewhat hesitant.
The pain... it was fierce and potent, rapidly spreading through Yumi's torso and into his limbs. His body shook as he tried to drag his breathing back under control. Every moment seemed slower than the last, and he realized that he had lost too much blood. Looking down, he inspected his clothes, only to find that the whole front of his person was now stained deep, dark red. The sight mesmerized him, and he stared at it, his vision growing blurrier by the second.
A voice called out to him, forcing him to raise his head and blink away the haze swimming in his eyes. A voice... Ikkaku's voice. Ikkaku. He widened his eyes and tensed, immediately flinching at the stabbing pain that coursed through him when his muscles clenched. There was movement behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps, and a rustling of clothing as Ikkaku stopped next to him. Turning his face away, he blinked back tears and tried to force his lips into a smile.
"It's nothing, really," he said softly, turning and looking at his friend through a curtain of dark hair. Blood dripped from his chin, and he hastily reached up to wipe it away. "I just... ran into a bit of trouble. Please don't worry."
He didn't want to lie... not to Ikkaku. His mind spun frantically, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation that wouldn't upset the man beside him. He didn't want to think about what would happen if Ikkaku found out... if he knew... A tear worked itself from the corner of his eye and slid down his cheek.
Nothing? What the fuck was Yumi talking about? If he knew anything, it was about blood and fighting, and whatever had happened to his friend was definitely not ‘nothing’. He could feel his heart start to race as Yumi turned to him, adrenaline fighting down the shock of seeing that usually composed face bruised and bleeding. His hands clenched at his sides, as he fought the urge to reach up and brush away the fall of hair so that he could see the other man’s eyes.
His eyes ran across Yumi’s clothes, taking in the dirt and blood even as he felt the tension in his muscles start to bunch. So much blood-harsh crimson against that perfect pale skin. It wasn’t right. His jaw clenched as he bit down on his anger. Yumi wasn’t meant to get hurt like this. He watched as a tear rolled down the other’s cheek and something inside him started to snap, anger and frustration held in check by little more than a tattered thread.
The wound on Yumi’s stomach seemed to be the worst. Finally, he forced himself to reach out his hand, calloused fingers meant for a sword hesitant as they touched the torn cloth. The cut was deep. His stomach lurched.
“Yumi, who did this to you?” He looked up from the bloodied wound, his eyes finally searching out the other’s. “Yumichika, who hurt you?” His words were ice, the cold calm just managing to hold back the barely tempered flames of anger he could feel threatening to consume him.
Another tear slid down Yumi's cheek. It burned, scorching slowly across his bruised flesh. Blinking, he brushed it away, smearing the blood on his face with the movement. He bowed his head and tried to think clearly. Shame and guilt tore through him, more painful than his wounds, making him close his eyes and shudder. Ikkaku was worried, and it was his fault. It was the worst feeling he had ever experienced-to be so helpless and weak in front of the only man he looked up to.
Something moved toward him, and he recoiled at the unexpected touch. The flinch tugged at his wounds, and he gasped silently, losing focus of everything but the pain. After the surge of hurt subsided, he looked back at Ikkaku, just barely registering the words that were being directed at him.
Who? He shook his head. Ikkaku didn't need to know... couldn't know. Yumi swallowed and ducked his head when the coldness of the other's voice sank in. He had upset his friend... and no wonder. It was all his fault-he had been careless, and stupid. Nothing could amend for his weakness.
"Ikkaku..." He tripped on his own tongue, trying to find the will to speak. "Ikkaku, I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough... I wasn't...." Turning his head again, he let his voice trail off, the tears now freely streaming down his face.
Ikkaku drew his hand away, unable to deal with causing Yumi any more pain. He sat back on his heels, a sick feeling of helplessness rushing through him. The emotion shocked him and he quickly pushed it away, down out of reach, willing something more familiar to take its place.
He couldn’t deal with this, couldn’t deal with the pain and hurt on his best, his longest friend’s face. He wasn’t stupid, he knew something out of the ordinary had happened. Despite appearances, Yumi had spent as many years as he had living in some of the toughest conditions Rukongai could throw at them. No, whatever had happened was something else.
Frustration ripped through him as he watched the brunette shake his head. Why was he hiding them from him? They needed to pay, they needed to hurt and bleed before he let them find death. His fists clenched as Yumi turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.
His friend’s words drifted over him, soft and almost sobbing, and he lost what little control he’d had left. He needed to know who had done this, who had managed to put this shame and self doubt into someone who had never let anything or anyone get him down. Something started to niggle at the back of his mind, something wrong, more so than just the bloodied state of the other man.
Jerking to his feet, he turned his back to Yumi. "Tell me who did this to you," he demanded. He couldn’t take this. His fist slammed out into the wall, plaster and wood falling away from his knuckles unnoticed. His chest heaved as he tried to hold onto his self-control. An edge of pleading crept into his voice. “Tell me who it was, Yumi. Tell me what they did. I need to know.” His thoughts spun. Oh gods, Yumi. Tell me that the wounds I can see are the worst thing that happened.
Yumi watched Ikkaku out of the corner of his eye, fighting to hang on to consciousness. He winced as his friend stood and turned away from him. It really didn't surprise him that Ikkaku didn't want to look at him when he was in such a state, but the rejection he felt still smarted like a knife wound. His body convulsed as he fought the urge to vomit, his own actions deeply sickening him. There was no excuse for his pathetic behavior.
A loud noise drew him from his self-loathing, and he flinched as Ikkaku's fist made contact with the wall. Struggling to stand, he got up on his knees and gripped the edge of the dresser. Pulling himself up, he straightened his back and tried not to groan as another bolt of pain struck him. He walked over and tentatively placed a hand on Ikkaku's back, his frown deepening when he felt how tense the larger man's muscles were.
"I'm sorry..." He hung his head. "Please forgive me..."
His thoughts were starting to get muddled, and he desperately tried to wrestle them back into order. He sighed as more tears dripped from the ends of his nose and chin. It was pointless to hide anything from Ikkaku. He just hoped that the other man wouldn't hate him for what he was about to say.
"There were... four of them, I think. Maybe five." He squinted, trying to make out the details in his head. "They came out of no where, I didn't have time to... I didn't have time..." The words sounded like an excuse, and he cringed as he said them. This was the worst thing... to admit his failure to Ikkaku, the only person he cared for and trusted. He knew how much fighting, how much winning meant to the other man. It gutted him to admit his defeat. Shame flushed his cheeks and he dropped his hand to his side, swaying and fighting to remain upright.
Ikkaku pressed his eyes closed, hoping that Yumi would give him something, a name, a description, anything that he could go on. Fighting was all he knew. His friend was hurting, and the only thing he could offer was bloody and violent retribution. It wasn’t enough, but he just didn’t have anything else to give.
His thoughts were so caught up with trying to rein in his anger that he barely registered Yumi’s movements behind him until he felt a gentle hand on his back. He flinched before he had a chance to think, instinctively moving away from the unexpected touch. Quiet words reached his ears and he blinked his eyes open. His brow furrowed; he was completely lost by what Yumi was saying. Forgive? What could Yumi have ever done that someone like him could need to forgive him?
He wanted to turn and take a hold of his friend, shake some sense into him, but before he had time to ask what Yumi meant, the soft-spoken works began again. His stomach lurched as details finally started to tumble free. He listened, horrified, the words barely audible over the pounding of his blood in his ears.
There was so much shame and hurt in his friend’s voice that the sense of something wrong finally cut though some of his own frustration. Yumi’s hand fell from his back and he turned, needing to see the other’s face, to try to understand what he was trying to say. The paleness of Yumichika’s skin startled him and his hand came out to steady the other man without thought. His eyes searched Yumi's before he turned his head away. “Yumi...” His words faltered as his frustration flared again. He didn’t know how to do this, didn’t know what he was meant to say.
A strong hand held Yumi steady, and he nodded appreciatively. Everything was slipping into a jumbled mess, and he shook his head, trying to think coherently. The hand that held him was firm, yet gentle, and it felt comforting. Looking up, he met Ikkaku's gaze and blinked, confused by the emotion he saw written across the other's face. Was that... concern? Or, perhaps it was disappointment. He hung his head again, figuring that it was the latter.
"Ikkaku, I..." he began, trying to come up with the right words. "I couldn't... I wasn't... There were just too many and..." His voice had fallen to barely a whisper, the words almost too difficult to say. He screwed his eyes shut and turned away, trying to escape Ikkaku's touch. He felt sick, dirty, and ashamed. How was he supposed to admit something so awful? He crossed his arms over his chest and held himself tightly, trying to will away the guilt and pain.
"They tried to force me," he said quickly, nearly choking on the bitter words. His gaze and hands worked their way to the front of his torn kimono, lingering over the still-bleeding wound. "They attacked me and pinned me down and..." He paused, winced, and skipped over the details. "I couldn't... they wouldn't... I fought... but there were just too many... so I ran."
A heavy sob wrenched its way from his chest as his last words fell into the quiet room. He had fled. Ikkaku would never tolerate such weak behavior, Yumichika was certain of it. Blinking back tears, he stood as straight as he could and braced himself for whatever reaction his failure would draw from the man behind him. He deserved... he didn't know what he deserved, but he would not have blamed Ikkaku for leaving him there and never speaking to him again. The tears began to flow freely again, making him feel even worse. He was being such a coward.
Ikkaku could hear his own heart pounding as Yumichika started to speak again. Part of him didn’t want to know, couldn’t deal with the rawness of the other’s pain. He watched, confused, as his friend tried to pull away, his fingers unwilling to give up their grip, curling into the cloth of Yumi’s kimono.
Somehow he had known what was coming next, before Yumi even spoke, making the thoughts he had pushed away a harsh reality. He closed his eyes, a grimace twisting his face. Emotions raged through him. He wanted to fight, to take out his frustration on someone before it consumed him. Blood-lust was already boiling up from the pit of his stomach, but something else coiled round his chest, tight enough to hurt.
Confusion twisted up inside of him. He didn’t want this. He lived to fight, nothing more. He didn’t want any attachments, didn’t need any ties to this place. He felt the anger burning under his skin. Someone had hurt Yumichika-he could deal with why that tore into him so deeply later.
He loosened his grip on the ruined cloth and pushed himself back. Somewhere past the anger, he found cold, hard hate. His fist lashed out and he hit the wall again, a growl forcing his way out of his chest as he let his eyes fall closed and tried to drag his breathing back under control.
He glanced back up, his eyes searching out Yumi, even though his gaze was hazed red with rage. “I’m gona kill them, I’m gona kill them for even thinking they could...” He couldn’t even say it. It hurt him physically to think that someone could have tried, could have come so close to hurting Yumi that way.
Turning away, he shook some of the tension from his shoulders and moved to grab his sword, all other thoughts pushed from his mind.
Something like dread sank to the pit of Yumi's stomach when he felt and heard Ikkaku move away. Turning around, he lowered his head and watched Ikkaku from beneath his eyelashes. His body twitched involuntarily when Ikkaku's fist connected with the wall. He inhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling wildly out of control. It was his fault. Ikkaku was upset and it was all because of his own frailty, his own shortcomings.
He was just about to collapse onto the floor when the other's words penetrated his grief and pain, snapping him back to reality. Kill... them? The dread in his core deepened and tightened, gripping his insides with icy fingers. Stumbling forward, he rushed after Ikkaku, reaching the larger man before he had a chance to move out the door.
"Ikkaku..." he pleaded, reaching forward and grasping the other man's arm. Tugging his friend around so that he could see his face, Yumi bit down on his broken lip and sniffed away a sob. His hands clung to the fabric of Ikkaku's clothes, working their way up and coming to rest on either side of that face he knew so well. Stumbling, he fell into the body in front of him, trying desperately to stay on his feet.
"Ikkaku, please..." he looked down, unable to meet that hard stare. Anger and hate radiated from Ikkaku's body, and Yumi blanched at the sheer, overwhelming power of the raw emotion. He didn't want to let Ikkaku go... didn't want him to fight or bleed for him. There was nothing he could do to make up for his defeat, but he wasn't about to see his best friend get hurt because of it. His shaking, bloody fingers stroked the sides of Ikkaku's face.
"Please... please stay with me," he whispered, looking up and searching the other's eyes. His breathing was jagged and his heart was pounding wildly out of control. "I don't care what they did to me, it was my own fault for being so weak." The words rushed from his mouth before he could contain them. "If something were to happen to you... I don't think I... I don't think I could live."
His head swam and he lost all sense of balance. Making one last effort to stay standing, he rested his head on Ikkaku's shoulder, a shaky breath falling against the other's neck before he lost control and began to sink to the ground.
Ikkaku was lost in thoughts of the fight he knew lay ahead. He barely registered his name coming from the other man. He turned as Yumi grabbed his arm, ready to push the other man away, reaching out to peel his friend’s fingers from his clothes. Yumi stumbled into him and his hands came up instinctively, gripping the backs of the brunette's arms to steady him on his feet. Something inside of him shattered as Yumi's shaking hands caressed his face. He blinked down at the man in front of him, the anger fuelled haze slowly pulling back until he could no longer hide from the hurt clawing at his chest.
Yumi was shaking, not just his hands, but his whole body. How had he failed to notice that before? Words washed over him, sinking in without any real comprehension. Yumi wanted him to stay? What could he do if he stayed? All he was good for was fighting, blood, and violence. His thoughts were still spiraling as Yumi’s head came to rest on his shoulder, the soft breath on his neck jolting him as if it had been a naked flame. Fighter's reflexes were all that let him catch the smaller man before he slid to the ground. He didn’t let himself think as he pulled his friend in closer to him, careless of anything other than holding on to him and trying to withstand the confusion of emotions running through his head.
Slowly, some of Yumi’s words registered and he finally realised what his friend had been trying to say. “Gods no, Yumi.” The words were almost growled, but his anger was only aimed inwards now. “You’re not weak.” Was that really what his friend had been thinking? That he would turn away from him because he had failed to win against such overwhelming odds? “Those bastards are sick.” He felt some of his earlier frustration start to rise again, but he pushed it down, storing it away for later.
He pulled his head back so the he could see Yumi’s blood and tear stained face. The sight tore through him, the true horror of what he was seeing hitting him in his stomach now that he was no longer shielded from it by a blanket of anger and hate. His hand came up to brush away the tears from a purple bruised cheek, his own fingers almost shaking with the effort to make sure he didn’t hurt his friend any further. Even like this, the other man was beautiful. His eyes trailed across perfect features, the last of the resolve he hadn’t even known he was clinging to starting to crack.
Strong, firm arms held Yumi upright, and he relaxed into them gratefully. The room was spinning wildly around him, making him close his eyes and rest his head against the chest in front of him. Ikkaku's bold, steady heartbeat rang in his ears, grounding him to the moment and helping him remain lucid. It seemed a bit ironic to him-that he had always craved to be in Ikkaku's embrace, but had never felt it before. He inhaled deeply, the breath shuddering in his chest before he exhaled it slowly.
Angry words fell down from above him, and he winced at the tone of his friend's voice. A second later, his eyes flew open wide when he heard Ikkaku say that he wasn't weak. Of course he was weak. He shook his head. If he had been strong, he would not have had to run away. The shame of his defeat burned through him again, and he buried his face in Ikkaku's chest. He wasn't sure why the victory orientated man would even want to look at him after such a hideous loss.
"But..." he began after a moment, his voice faltering with the word. "I ran, Ikkaku. You never would have done something like that. I should have stayed and fought. I should have let them..." his voice trailed off again. He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut. "I should have died, rather than run away. It's what you would have done." His fingers tightened in Ikkaku's clothes.
Yumi pushed away from the other man, not wanting to linger in that embrace any longer-it made him even more ashamed. He didn't deserve Ikkaku's friendship, not any more. They had talked about fighting, bleeding, and dieing countless times over the years they had known each other. Every time, Ikkaku had said the same thing-that he would rather die than surrender. It was one of the things Yumi admired most about him. He had tried his best to become a strong and capable fighter, someone Ikkaku would be proud to have by his side. But, apparently he had not succeeded. Burying his face in his hands, he fought the urge to groan in frustration. "Please forgive me..." he whispered, digging his fingertips into his scalp. "I failed you."
Ikkaku had never hated himself like he did in that moment, had never felt as much shame as he did when he heard Yumi’s words sobbed against his body. How could he have let his friend come to believe those things, why hadn’t he seen it earlier? He had been so caught up in his own anger-he shuddered in a breath, finally letting himself admit what he had been trying to avoid-in his own fear for the man he had tried for so long to keep at arms length, he had been blinded to what he was seeing.
He was such a fucking idiot. He squeezed his eyes closed, as Yumi tried to pull away from him. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. The brash, bold words that were all he knew were no good to him now. He watched in growing horror as Yumi hid himself behind his hair and hands. The beautiful man who had never hid himself from anyone, who he had grown to admire and respect for his own subtle strengths, for his resilience, his loyalty, his courage to never bow to what another expected. Anger at the people who had done this to Yumi started to seep back under his skin him, but it was buried now under his concern.
Reaching up, he carefully drew Yumi’s hands from his face, bringing them down to his sides, before allowing them drop, the pads of his fingertips trailing down the brunette’s fingers until they slipped free. He let his thumb trace Yumi’s jaw, cupping his hand under the other’s chin to bring his face up. “You could never fail me…never…” His words trailed off. His eyes searched across bruises and half clotted cuts, barely seeing them; instead, he finally let himself see the man in front of him. His other hand came up to smooth across Yumi’s hair. His eyes settled on soft, swollen lips, and his heart pounded in his chest. Slowly, he brought his own lips down to brush the corner of Yumichika’s mouth, barely a kiss, before he let his forehead rest against the other’s. “Yumi…”
Yumi flinched when Ikkaku touched him, still on edge after what he had been through. Letting his arms fall down, he watched as the other man's fingers slid over his own. He wondered why his pulse jumped at the touch. Before he had a chance to think of an answer, his chin was being pushed up by a rough, yet gentle hand. He looked into Ikkaku's eyes for a moment before averting his gaze, a faint blush working over his bruised cheeks. Ikkaku had looked at him many times, but never so intently. His eyelashes fluttered as he tried to turn away; he didn't want his friend to see him looking like such a mess.
He was about to pull away again when Ikkaku's voice drifted past his ears. Could it really be? Blinking, he looked up at the other man, a thread of hope stirring in his chest. He had been certain that Ikkaku would hate him for running away, for giving up, but... His heart leaped. What he saw in his friend's eyes wasn't hatred, or even anger. It was something else, something that made his cold limbs trickle with warmth.
A hand brushed across his hair, and he closed his eyes and leaned into the caress. The gentle touches were unexpected, but nice, and kept his mind off the throbbing pain. His mind was still in a haze, not really processing the things that were going on. He was vaguely aware of Ikkaku's body next to his, but failed to recognize the significance of it. Something lingered in the back of his head, something like anticipation and excitement, but it was overwhelmed by confusion and doubt.
Something warm and soft tickled the corner of his mouth... it felt like a puff of air, a breath. His eyes flew open, violet irises gleaming in surprise. Ikkaku was inches away, and getting closer. Time slowed for a second and his heart tried to escape from his chest. He closed his eyes again as Ikkaku's lips met his, daring not to open them for fear of waking up from whatever dream he had wandered into. His hands reached out to tangle in the other's clothing, grasping at the fabric like his mind was trying to grasp the situation.
The thrill of warmth that spread through his body didn't surprise him; he had been in love with Ikkaku for many years. It had never occurred to him, however, that anything other than friendship would be passed between the rough man and himself. He had never even hoped to reach Ikkaku's heart, buried away under all that blood-lust and fierce resolve.
Sighing, he opened his eyes and let his gaze sweep over the man in front of him. Things were happening so fast... he felt like he was spinning in circles. A shiver of pain worked through his body, reminding him of his wounds. "Ikkaku..." his voice was still weak, but a bit less strained. "I need to stop the bleeding."
Yumi’s words dragged Ikkaku back to the moment. He was used to blood and wounds taken while fighting, but he had taken for granted how he had come to rely on Yumi fixing him up when things got out of hand. He nodded, reluctantly letting go of his friend enough to help him to the bed. He looked Yumi over, finally forcing himself to see how gravely his friend was hurt. The sight of the slight brunette bruised and battered, covered almost from head to toe in blood and dirt, shook him to his core.
Digging through the chest at the end of the bed, he pulled out a bag filled with bandages, dumping them down on the floor. He fetched water and stood it next to the bandages, all the while trying not to think about who it was that was laying hurt and bleeding on the cheap, woolen blankets of his bed. He caught Yumi’s eyes for a moment, before helping the other man sit up a little more. Slowly, he started to peel away the tattered kimono from the top half of his friend's body. He winced, as pale shoulders slipped free, revealing fresh purple bruises across Yumi’s lightly muscled chest. He could see the mark of a heavy boot on the other’s ribs, where someone must have kicked. His face hardened, a scowl forming as he bit down on his anger, but his fingers were feather light as they brushed across the damaged skin. His fingertips tingled with the sensation, but he didn’t let himself think about how Yumi’s body felt beneath the touch of his hand. He was willing to bet that the ribs under the bruise were broken. He was starting to appreciate the effort it must have taken Yumi just to get himself home.
He pulled the kimono down a little further, biting down on his lip as the ragged cloth caught and tugged on half drying blood. His stomach lurched, as he watched Yumi’s face for signs of pain. He suddenly wondered how Yumi must have felt each time he had been forced to do this for him. His mind swam back to the patient, gentle hands that had cleaned his wounds, even as that familiar voice had chided him for his lack of caution, to the concentration on the other’s face as he had stitched closed ragged wounds, Yumi's hands steady even when his voice shook. He owed Yumichika more than he had even known.
Yumichika sank down onto the bed with a sigh, thankful to be off his feet. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and tried to steady his breathing. He listened to Ikkaku move around the room, opening his eyes when he heard the larger man return to him. It seemed odd to be the one needing care; usually it was the other way around. Fighting was a major part of Ikkaku's life, so patching him up after he had been brawling was something that Yumi had long since become accustomed to. Although his friend was more than capable of taking care of himself, Yumi always insisted on being the one to tend to his wounds. His thoughts lingered on the many times they had been in that exact situation, but with their roles reversed. Somehow it seemed completely different, now that he was the injured one.
Sitting as straight as his wounds would allow, he let Ikkaku slide his kimono over his shoulder. A soft gasp fell from his lips as sword-hardened fingers came into contact with his skin-not because of the pain, but because the touch stirred something else inside of him. He furrowed his brow, troubled that such a sensation would come up at that particular moment. Pushing it away, he pursed his lips and focused on remaining upright while Ikkaku inspected the damage done to his body.
He watched with dazed fascination as his kimono was pulled down further. A grimace threatened to work over his face as the scabs that had already begun to form over his wounds were peeled away, but he managed to smile weakly, letting Ikkaku know that he was okay. The pain shivered through him, clearing away some of the fog that had been seeping through his mind. His eyes widened a touch as the full meaning of what had just happened began to sink in. Ikkaku hadn't been upset that he had run away. Ikkaku had kissed him. The corner of his mouth tingled with the memory of the other man's, making him touch his fingers to his lips.
Trying to dispel the blush that was beginning to creep up his neck, Yumi ducked his head and smiled a bit more. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up to meet the other's gaze. He let his chin fall back down and looked at Ikkaku from beneath his dark, long lashes. This was a side of his friend that he had never witnessed before-one that was caring and... gentle. His smile widened. It was certainly a change of pace... but it was nice.
Ikkaku had barely done anything, but Yumi was beginning to feel better already. The steady motion of the larger man's movements soothed him, breaking apart his doubt and shame bit by bit. His shivering body began to relax, the flight-or-flight reflexes that he had been clinging to finally settling down. More than anything, though, it was Ikkaku's strength and confidence that calmed him the most.
There was no one else who could have dragged the restraint from him that it was taking just to care for the wounds without causing any undue pain. There was something about Yumi that dug free parts of himself that he had long forgotten ever existed, let alone allowed himself to think on. He looked up again, to find violet eyes searching out his own. A lopsided grin tugged onto his mouth, as Yumi’s whispered thanks fell on his ears. “Idiot,” he murmured. The word was barely audible over his breathing as he shook his head and bent back to look at the task in front of him. He wasn’t going to let Yumi know how much those few softly spoken words meant to him, he would never hear the end of it.
The smaller man let him clean the wound without complaint, barely flinching at what he knew from experience to be a something that must have been causing him a hell of a lot of pain. He reached forward to pass the bandage around Yumi’s back, as he bound the worst wound. He stilled, pausing as he found himself leaning in closer to the other man. The scent that was Yumichika was somehow still present on his pale skin, despite the layers of blood and dirt that remained. Moving back, he tied the bandage off, not letting himself think of how that soft, subtle scent had left him suddenly wanting to run his hands across the man in front of him.
There was little that could be done for the rest of the wounds. Scrapes and bruises would take time to heal, as would the broken ribs, but there was not much else he could do other than wash them clean. He worked as quickly as he could, barely trusting himself to keep his hands on Yumi’s skin. The gentle warmth radiating off the other’s body threatened to spark a different kind of heat inside of him.
He looked up at Yumi as he finished working, the time taken to treat the many wounds lost to him. Leaning on the bed in front of his friend, he brought his hand up to brush back a stray strand of hair that had fallen forward across pale skin. Without the blood and dirt, the cuts and swollen bruises somehow looked worse. Outside the sun was low on the horizon, the open window leaving slants of gold across the bare floorboards.
“You should sleep,” he offered, his voice sounding strange to his own ears after the long silence, an awkwardness falling across him now that his task was done.
Yumi placed his palms on the bed behind him, leaning back to give Ikkaku better access to the wound on his stomach. He watched intently as careful hands cleaned and treated the cut, fully aware that his friend was going out of his way not to hurt him. Every touch, every movement was deliberately and painstakingly gentle. The care written into Ikkaku's movements relaxed him, and he felt the tension in his muscles wash away with the dirt and blood. A rising heat pooled in his aching body, warming his shivering core and pushing out through his skin.
Ikkaku shifted and moved closer, reaching behind him and wrapping the bandage around his torso. He held his breath, suddenly conscious of just how close the other man was. Something fluttered in his stomach and he closed his eyes, scarcely daring to breathe until Ikkaku moved away. Sighing, he leaned back on his elbows and continued to observe in silence, letting his eyes wander over the other's frame. He studied the curve of Ikkaku's broad shoulders... the gentle pulse, just barely visible beneath the soft skin of his neck... the muscles of his chest that rippled fluidly beneath his clothing...
Blinking, Yumi turned his head and tried to concentrate on something else. His gaze wandered to the window, to the setting sun outside. The last of its tired rays bathed the sky in warm, amber light, making the dingy section of Rukongai that they lived in look pretty, for once. He sighed again and tilted his head back, letting his hair cascade down onto the bed behind him. The only sound in the room was their breathing, and he listened to it with closed eyes, the time sweeping by effortlessly.
Ikkaku's voice drew him out of his thoughts and he drew his head up to look at his friend, a smile playing on his lips. "That sounds good," he agreed, nodding. He brought his feet onto the bed and stretched out on his side, soft tendrils of dark hair falling over his face. Bringing a hand up, he brushed them aside and gazed at Ikkaku sleepily. "Thank you," he murmured, reaching out to touch the other's arm. The two words didn't seem to convey how grateful he was, but they were all he had to offer.
Curling up on the bed, he brought his knees in close and closed his eyes. Sleep was calling, but a part of him wanted to stay awake, wanted to remain in that peaceful moment forever. Opening his eyes, he smiled again and squeezed Ikkaku's arm. "Stay with me?" he asked softly, peeking at his friend through the curtain of hair that had fallen back in front of his face.
Ikkaku waited for Yumi to reply, his eyes trailing across the other’s soft, supple skin. Yumi was more beautiful, more perfect, than he had ever let himself admit, maybe because of the harsh wounds that now adorned him, rather than in spite of them. Those ugly marks made it impossible to dismiss just how close he had come to losing the other man, his best friend. The one person who had stuck with him through thick and thin, no matter what mess he had dragged them into, no matter how often his temper and over inflated pride had come close to getting them both killed.
He ached to brush his fingers though the soft fall of hair that had fallen to frame Yumi’s face. Silently cursing himself, he tried to shake the other man from his thoughts, turning his head away. “It’s fine,” murmured, unsure what to do with the open praise. Yumi’s touch felt like fire on his skin, yet he could feel the moment slipping away from him; feel himself drifting back to his self-imposed detachment. The walls he had spent so long constructing suddenly didn’t look so inviting, but he didn’t know how to stop the distance he could feel between them growing again.
Yumi’s next words hit him deep in his chest. He turned back before he had a chance to think, his eyes searching out the other’s. Part of him wanted to refuse, knowing full well once he crossed that line there would be no going back. No way to convince himself that the other man was nothing more than a convenient companion, a friend who could always be replaced. His gaze fell on the intensity of those violet eyes, and he realised that maybe it was already too late. Taking a breath he nodded, waiting for Yumi to move over and make room.
Grabbing the softer blanket from Yumi’s bed, he climbed on to his own narrow sleeping space with the other man, throwing the soft wool over both of their bodies. Lying still, he let Yumi find a way of resting that wasn’t too uncomfortable, closing his eyes and willing away thoughts of that soft skin as it brushed against him.
Yumi pressed his his lips together and waited patiently for an answer. Part of him expected Ikkaku to refuse, but a glimmer of hope lingered deep inside of him. His tired eyes lit up when he saw his friend nod, genuine happiness finding its way through the anxiety and fatigue that still had a hold on him. He moved over the side of the bed, being careful not to reopen his wounds and waste all of his friend's hard work.
Holding his breath, Yumi stilled his movements and waited for Ikkaku to lay down next to him. Once they were both situated, he sighed and leaned into the other's warmth. Reaching out, he traced his hand up Ikkaku's arm, enjoying the soothing feel of heated skin beneath his fingertips. The stress of the day began to take its toll, wearing down his mind and making his eyelids heavy. Looking across the pillow, he caught Ikkaku's gaze and held it, a tired smile finding it way to his lips. He wanted to say something, wanted to express how glad he was that Ikkaku had stayed, but couldn't find the words. The fog that had been trying to take over his mind for the last hour finally took hold, erasing any coherent thoughts he might have had.
His hand continued its quest upwards, his fingers dancing lightly across the other's arm until they reached a muscular shoulder. He slid his hand down and flattened it over Ikkaku's chest, pressing it over the beating heart within. Closing his eyes, he gave in to the welcoming darkness awaiting him. "Ikkaku..." he whispered, the word slipping softly from between his lips before he fell asleep.
Ikkaku drew in a slow breath, trying to adjust to the strangeness of another body lying against to him. It wasn’t that he was a stranger to taking someone to his bed, but this was very different to passing out in a drunken stupor after some sake-fueled fuck. He was almost painfully aware of every brush of Yumi’s limbs against his, of the warmth that sank from the other’s body into his skin.
Yumi’s fingers trailed trickles of liquid heat across his arm and he glanced up to find his friend looking at him, a soft smile his lips. There was an underlying warmth in the depths of those violet eyes, before long lashes swept down to shield them. He wondered just how long Yumi had wanted this, how long he had managed to ignore that heat in his friend’s gaze. His name fell from those bruised lips and let himself shift, drawing the other man in closer to him. A smirk twisted on his lips.
Gradually, he felt Yumi’s breathing slow, as his wounds took their toll and he drifted towards sleep. He let himself relax against the lithe body wrapped around him, but he knew that he wasn’t going to find sleep. His eyes closed in the darkness, but without Yumi to take his mind from it, his thoughts were drawn back to his earlier anger. Part of that frustration was aimed inwards at himself, as Yumi’s words and actions when he had returned played over and over in his head. To have stayed would have been surrender, to have let them tear what they wanted from his body. He would make sure Yumi understood that when he woke, but first he had shown these animals what it was like to become the hunted, to be cut down.
The first light of dawn found a familiar tension coiling through him. Shifting carefully, he let his fingers brush across the other’s face. His fingers stilled at the corner of Yumi’s mouth where he had pressed his lips earlier, before he pulled his hand away and slipped out from under Yumi’s touch. The dawn air was cold against his skin. Padding silently across the small room he grabbed his sword, slipping towards the door without letting himself look back.
He flicked his blade up with his thumb, letting his eyes trail over the razor sharp steel, before letting the sword slips back into the sheath and tucking it securely into his obi. He closed the door behind him. A twisted grin tugged onto his lips, as he wondered what Yumi would have to say when it was the beautiful brunette’s turn to patch him up once again when he got back.
Something tickled across Yumi's face, gently rousing him from his sleep. He just barely opened his eyes, just in time to see Ikkaku leave the bed and head for his sword. Something inside of him welled in his chest when he realized what his friend was going to do. It wasn't fear, or even guilt... it was something warm and comforting. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Ikkaku walk towards the door. The bald, head-strong man would never change, but that's what Yumi loved about him.