The Window, chapter 2
Author:
honey_mellon
Title: The Window
Rating: R
Pairing: Abarai Renji, Kurosaki Ichigo
Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an R-rated yaoi fiction
Summary: Ichigo was an ordinary high school student with an ordinary life. Then, his new neighbors moved in, and Ichigo suddenly found himself looking out from his window more often than he should.
COMMUNITY DISCLAIMER: All characters depicted in sexual situations in this post/fanfiction/fanart (including material in the comments) are fictional and are intended to be and considered to be by the author of said material of the legal age of consent in the United States state of California, regardless of what age these characters may be in the material they are derived from.
Thanks for the support! =) I'm really happy that you guys liked the first chapter!
Ichigo was feeling very, very disturbed. He'd been brushing his teeth for the past three minutes now, and he's still brushing, his hands working the toothbrush mechanically.
He had asked for it, of course. It's common sense that if your mind was obsessed about something, you would be more likely to dream about it. So he wasn't exactly surprised that his dream was a jumbled swirl of red and black, but he was downright shocked by his own reaction to the dream.
The last part of his dream had been a startlingly clear image of Renji looking at him. The redhead wasn't doing anything; he simply stood there, his eyes locked on Ichigo's. His face was expressionless, but his dark brown eyes bored into Ichigo, and Ichigo felt-for the lack of a better word-naked.
Not naked naked, but rather as though Renji could see into his head, if that made any sense. As if the redhead was saying I know you've been watching me.
But the kicker, the real kicker was that Ichigo had found it arousing. So arousing that he had woken up with a soiled blanket.
Ichigo promised himself that he wouldn't look anymore. Tonight, he would draw the fucking curtain before he did anything stupid. The only reason he left it open during the day was to let sunlight into his room; he didn't like his room being dark and musty.
No more. No more peeping, no more gawking. He would not look at the redhead's lean, sculpted body anymore. He would keep his eyes away from the thick red locks that flowed past those angular shoulders. He would not imagine how those tattoos would feel under his fingers. He would not-
Fuck.
Ichigo hit his forehead against his mirror, then again, and again. It was not even the least bit distracting, unless he was willing to risk hitting it hard enough to crack the mirror and cut himself. Dismayed, he let his head rest against the mirror for a few more seconds, the toothbrush hanging limply between his lips.
It was another ten minutes before he finally came out of the bathroom. Flinging his closet doors open, he reached in and grabbed a random t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Jeans. He needed jeans; he looked around and finally remembered that he had flung it over his chair last night.
Walking over to his desk, he picked up his pants off the back of the chair and started to bend over to pull it on.
Don't look.
His face was angled away from the window, but if he moved his eyes just a little bit, he could still easily see what's outside without having to turn around.
Don't look.
He was frozen in place, one hand on the back of his chair to hold himself upright, and the other holding the waistband of his jeans. His neck twitched.
Don't look don't look don't look.
He forced his neck to keep still, but his eyes-his traitorous, treacherous eyes-moved.
No red hair, no bare chest, no tattoos.
Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders suddenly sagging. Unless Renji was hiding underneath the window sill or behind the walls next to the window, the room was empty. Emboldened by the knowledge, he hastily pulled on his jeans and straightened up, and then he peered into Renji's room.
The redhead's furniture was placed slightly differently from Ichigo's. Ichigo had his desk at the window and his bed tucked away against the wall, hidden from view, whereas Renji's bed was across from his window. If Ichigo tiptoed, he actually had a full view of the bed. It was currently empty; the sheets rumpled and unmade.
So Renji was an early riser, Ichigo thought. That actually surprised him. Somehow he imagined the redhead to be the type who stayed up late at night listening to rock music.
He really needed to stop stereotyping the guy just because of his damn tattoos.
When Ichigo finally strolled into class, he got another surprise-the seat next to his was empty. He'd assumed that Renji must be in school by now, given that he'd gotten up earlier, but then he immediately chastised himself for jumping into conclusions. Just because Renji wasn't in his room didn't mean he'd left the house.
The bell rang, but his neighbor's seat still remained empty. Ochi-sensei waltzed in, and the first lesson of the day began.
Almost a full hour into the lesson, Renji finally appeared. He nodded at Ochi-sensei and walked to his seat, calm and steady as though he wasn't even aware of his own late arrival.
"Nice of you to join us, Abarai-san," Ochi-sensei said, delivering her usual line to anyone who got in late for her class.
The redhead looked at her for a few seconds. Then, as tension mounted in the classroom with all the students staring intently between the teacher and Renji, he bowed his head and said quietly, "Sorry."
Just like that. No blushing, not a hint of nervousness in his voice, and he most certainly did not sound the least bit apologetic.
Ichigo saw Ochi-sensei purse her lips, and for a second she looked as if she was going to dish out some sort of punishment. Then, to his surprise, she sighed and turned back to the blackboard and continued the lesson. Gradually, the students began to lose interest in the redhead, and he was left alone.
Well, not entirely alone. Ichigo was trying very hard to be subtle, but he couldn't help eyeing his neighbor, attempting to see his face. He would die before he admitted to anyone that he was intrigued, but he was. Ichigo was certain other people were, too, but somehow, either because Renji was his neighbor or because he'd seen something so personal about the guy, Ichigo found himself especially curious.
He didn't know how he knew it, but Ichigo felt certain that this was not the real Renji. The real person was hidden deep under those layers of thick, stifling clothes, safely concealed from the public. For the first time in his life, Ichigo felt an urge to find out more about someone; the notion was both foreign and new to him, and if Ichigo was honest to himself, he was scared shitless.
"Oh, god, I thought we were never going to finish this," Keigo complained with a dramatic sigh. He yawned, and Mizuiro promptly followed suit.
Ichigo swallowed and looked away, unwilling to cave into the urge to yawn as well. He slammed his text book shut and gathered the hastily scribbled notes, and began to sweep them into his backpack.
"I'm hungry," Mizuiro said as he, too, zipped up his backpack.
The three of them had stayed back after school to finish up a group project. Ichigo'd had low expectations on how much they would achieve, but his friends surprised him, and they had actually managed to complete the assignment that afternoon.
The sudden consumption of brain cells seemed to have drained them of energy, though. Now that Mizuiro had brought it up, Ichigo's stomach growled, reminding him that he was hungry too.
Keigo stood up and threw his backpack over one shoulder. "Ramen?" he asked, looking expectantly at Mizuiro and Ichigo.
The restaurant wasn't packed when they arrived, but Ichigo wasn't surprised. Peak lunch hour was over after all. They placed their orders and asked for hot tea, and then chatted as they waited, the conversation focusing mostly on Keigo's obsession with Orihime.
"Is it just me, or are they taking a ridiculously long time to get us our tea?" Keigo grumbled.
Mizuiro rolled his eyes and flagged down their waiter, who immediately hollered in the direction of the kitchen, barking orders at someone in there who had apparently messed up.
What an asshole, Ichigo thought as the man went on and on, practically ripping the other person apart with unnecessarily harsh words. He recognized this type of character-arrogant, self righteous bastards who longed for authority that they could not have and loved bullying the few who were unlucky enough to have lower rank.
The kitchen doors opened outwards and a familiar figure stepped out with a tray balanced precariously in his right hand.
Ichigo's mouth fell open.
The waiter walked next to Renji, presumably still admonishing the redhead for his slip-up. Ichigo saw Renji say something back; whatever it was, it obviously pissed the older guy off because he suddenly shoved the tray from Renji's hand.
Ichigo cringed and braced for the inevitable crash and mess that was to come, but to his surprise, the redhead's left hand shot out immediately and actually managed to intercept the tray. Still, even though it didn't fall, some of the tea splashed out and landed on the back of his hand. Ichigo could see steam rising from the cups, so he could only imagine how hot the liquid was, but Renji didn't flinch. His jaw muscles flexed, but other than that, he looked unaffected.
Instead of apologizing, the waiter huffed and continued with his tirade, obviously disappointed that his attempt to humiliate Renji had failed.
Ichigo felt a surge of anger and indignation.
"Can you quit it already?" He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the older man. "It's not a big deal and you're making a fool out of yourself."
The waiter shot him a dirty look before stalking off.
"Dude, chill," Keigo hissed. "Now he's probably gonna spit in our food, man."
Ichigo turned his glare on his friend, and Keigo held up his hands in defeat. "Just sayin'," he mumbled anyway. "You don't have to get all riled up for the pineapple."
Ichigo cocked an eyebrow. Pineapple?
"His hair," Mizuiro whispered as Renji approached.
Before Ichigo had the chance to retort, the redhead arrived and placed the tray at their table. Without a word, he set the tea cups in front of each of them, showing no sign of recognition.
But Ichigo knew he recognized them, because right as Renji turned around, he looked at Ichigo, right in the eye. It was brief, probably less than a second, but Ichigo's heart skipped a beat under the penetrating gaze. And then just like that, Renji walked away.
"Arrogant prick," Keigo muttered, looking at the redhead's retreating back with a frown. "Didn't even thank you for sticking up for him."
Ichigo didn't reply; he was too bothered by the fact that he was bothered by Renji's eyes.
Ichigo lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for Yuzu to announce that dinner was ready.
After Renji served them tea, he had disappeared into the kitchen and stayed there. Ichigo was very surprised to see him work there; Renji just didn't seem like the kind who worked in a restaurant. And the way he had not acknowledged them at all...Ichigo wondered if he felt ashamed to have to serve his classmates.
But then again, those eyes didn't look that way. Truth be told, Ichigo was beginning to feel pissed about the whole eye contact thing. It always seemed so one-sided; it just wasn't fair that he felt like an open book while Renji remained opaque.
But what was he supposed to do about it?
And why do I even care?
He felt like an idiot fretting over this. With a frustrated grunt, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed, deciding that his time would be better spent downstairs. Even if he couldn't help Yuzu in the kitchen, he could at least prepare the dining table for dinner.
Just as he placed the first set of silverware on the table, the doorbell rang. Thinking that it was perhaps his dad with his hands full of files and his briefcase, Ichigo flung the door open.
"Tsukabishi-san," he said, unable to keep his surprise out of his voice.
The man handed him a plate. "Sorry I took so long to return this to you," he said, sounding a little sheepish.
"Oh, it's not a problem." Ichigo took the plate, and then when his neighbor made no move to leave, he added tentatively, "Would you...uh, would you like to come in?"
"Ah, thank you, but no, I'm fine here." Tessai scratched his head and fidgeted a little awkwardly. "I just...you're in the same class as my son, right?"
Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah," he said, unsure where this conversation was heading.
His neighbor hesitated for a moment, seemingly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "He'll kill me if he finds out that I talked to you about this, so keep this between the two of us, okay?" Tessai's voice dropped a few notches.
Ichigo nodded.
"I don't really get to spend a lot of time with Renji, because of my work schedule and all," Tessai began, scratching his head again. "I thought I'd, you know, ask you to look out for him a little. He's going through a bit of a rough patch, so I apologize in advance for anything...you know..." He trailed off and looked at Ichigo.
Well, that explained the brooding, Ichigo thought. This unexpected revelation from Renji's father piqued his curiosity, but it didn't look like the man was going to offer any more details, so he just nodded and said, "Sure. I'll do that."
Tessai sighed and straightened up. "Thanks, Kurosaki-san, I really appreciate it."
Only then did Ichigo notice the t-shirt that his neighbor was wearing underneath his jacket. It was tight, the black fabric strained across the man's expansive chest. On his left, where his heart would be, were golden-yellow letters that said "TAO", and then below that, in a smaller font, said "Security".
The man noticed Ichigo's questioning gaze and offered, "I work as a security guard at the TAO nightclub. You know the place?"
"Yeah, but I haven't been inside," Ichigo said. He knew that "security guard" was just a nicer term for bouncer. It made sense now what the man had meant when he said that his work schedule preventing him from seeing his son.
"Oh, right. Underaged." Tessai smiled.
"Yeah," Ichigo said. He felt awkward; this was the first time an adult confided in him regarding a matter like this, and he suddenly felt as though he'd been asked to become a spy.
Tessai shoved his massive hands into his jacket pockets and nodded. "Thanks again, Kurosaki-san. Well, I have to go." He began to turn and walk away, and then he stopped. "Oh yes, I meant to ask, are you all free this Saturday?" he asked. "If you are, I'd like to invite you and your family over for dinner. Kind of like a small housewarming party, you know? Nothing fancy."
"Yes we're free!"
Startled, Ichigo turned around to see Yuzu smiling warmly at Tessai. "Tsukabishi-san, this is my sister Yuzu," he said, gesturing to his sister with his head.
Tessai waved at her. "Great! We'll see you around six thirty this Saturday, then," he said, looking pleased. Then, after stealing a quick look at his watch, he wished them a good evening and left for work.
Ichigo closed the door.
"Why didn't you tell me that you are classmates with our neighbor?" Yuzu asked, curious.
Oops. "Didn't think it was a big deal." Ichigo shrugged. "Say, is the food ready? I'm kinda hungry," he said, hoping to divert his sister's attention.
"Oh!" With a gasp of dismay, Yuzu rushed into the kitchen to save her food, and the conversation was promptly forgotten.
Ichigo reeked of curry. It was delicious, of course; Yuzu's cooking skills were superb, but not everything that smelled good in a bowl smelled good on clothes.
The curtain.
Remembering his vow, Ichigo went to his desk and reached up to draw his curtains.
Don't look. Just keep your hand steady and close the fucking curtain.
He looked.
Shit.
Renji was standing with his side towards the window, his hands just about to reach for the hem of his turtleneck shirt. Several tugs later, it was over his head and flung carelessly on the floor. Without missing a beat, he pulled off his hair tie, and his hair immediately cascaded down his shoulders.
Is his hair red everywhere?
Wait, what?
Ichigo groaned and cursed his overactive imagination.
I should really look away now. Oh, and close the bloody curtain.
Renji's shoulders was now hunched over and he was looking down, his hands busy working on something.
Belt buckle? Zipper?
Ichigo slowly reached up for the curtain, his eyes still riveted on his neighbor. The redhead's head was bowed, his face completely hidden behind a sheet of hair, apparently still fiddling with something below his waist.
Close the fucking curtain.
Ichigo shook his head and finally grabbed the curtain. But just as he was about to pull it close, his breath caught in his throat, and he froze.
Across from his room, head now lifted and turned towards the window, Renji was looking straight at him.
To be continued...
Quite the "oh, crap" situation, eh? ;)