The Killers Trilogy (Chapter 1)
♠The Killers Trilogy♠
Hichigo-Ichigo FanFiction YAOI (just like all the rest)- You have been warned. This one is based off The Killers Trilogy- listening to the songs is not necessary (I have written out the lyrics) but recommended because the Killers are awesome. Oh and in the lyrics, I have replaced 'Jennifer' with 'Ichigo' for obvious reasons. Enjoy!
***For FFN READERS- So here is how this is going to work...I am just going to file 10 Clicks as completed and post the remaining 10 'no-longer all oneshots' seperately. The "chapter" was getting ridiculously long and none of them were even finished. Since clicks 96, 97 and 98 are the closest to being complete (each holds a song in the Trilogy), they will be posted first and make up a rather dark 3-shot story. Make sense?
**Bleach belongs to Kubo, and The Killers Trilogy (Leave the Bourbon on the Shelf, Midnight Show, and Jenny Was a Friend of Mine) is the product of the Killers lyrical genius.
Chapter One: ‘Leave the Bourbon on the Shelf’
“Shakin’ like the Devil
When she lets me go,
Got a new place
And how it’s so much better…
“You came back.” It was a statement, but the orange haired male in the doorway answered as if it were a question.
“I just needed to pick some things up. My ride is waiting outside.” Auburn eyes look away as Ichigo nervously shifts his weight to the left.
“Is it him?” Shiro slowly rose from the couch, pale facial features carefully schooled to avoid scaring away the other.
He looked back up, expression hardening, “Doesn’t matter who it is, the outcome is still the same.”
Despite the hardened features, Shiro sees through the façade; sees the sweat dusting orange brows, sees the tension in those tan arms, sees his little lover shaking ever so slightly…
“Are you afraid, Ichigo?”
…Falling over myself,
The television’s on,
I turn it off and smile…
The thick silence is permeated by loud laughing from the television; he’d forgotten it was on. His mind preoccupied, he nearly tripped over his own feet on the way to the screen, remote lost long ago. He pauses over the button as his lover finds his voice.
Ichigo snorts, but doesn’t bother arguing with years of practiced observation, “Nervous. 5 years, Shiro…” He shakes his head and walks into the room, lifting the bottle they promised to never open again, the trophy that marked the day the quit drinking, together. “Such a huge change, moving someplace new…” He lets the sentence hang, hesitant to finish, but it didn’t matter, Shiro knew.
He finally turns off the T.V. and smiles, “With someone new, Ichi?” He always knew.
…Oh, Ichigo,
You know I always tried.
Before you say goodbye,
Leave the bourbon on the shelf,
And I’ll drink it by myself…
His eyes drift through the room, landing on the full ashtray on the table next to the couch, “You started smoking again.”
“Among other things.” He never lied to Ichigo.
The orange haired male eyed the bottle in his hand and looked to the coffee table for a white residue that would have been there any other day, but Shiro had actually been feeling a bit better today. “After everything you went through to quit…why?” Confusion, distress, irritation-Ichigo’s tone seemed to mirror Shiro’s soul perfectly.
“Takes away the pain, pushes back the hollowness, makes the house seem less quiet.” He didn’t have to say the actual words, he knew Ichigo would hear them anyway…he was all alone.
“There has to be another way to…” His voice trailed off under the golden eyed males’ concentrated stare. There was something funny in Ichigo lecturing him about his vices while cradling the bottle of bourbon they, together, held so dearly. Is that his vice alone now? Yes. He knew Ichigo hadn’t started drinking again. After all, he had someone. The thought made his throat constrict and his stomach roll.
…And I love you endlessly,
Darling don’t you see
I’m not satisfied
Until I hold you tight…
“You know Shiro, it doesn’t have to be this way. We were friends before-”
“No! We weren’t ‘friends’ ever!” The shout caused Ichigo to step back as tan hands nervously twisted at the cap of the bottle he was holding. Yelling wouldn’t do any good, Shiro knew that but-
“I’ve always loved you. Every time we ‘hung out’ was just a reason to spend time with you, every ‘friendly fight’ an excuse to touch you. I was never satisfied unless you were in my arms. That hasn’t changed, it will never change.”
…Give me one more chance tonight,
And I swear I’ll make it right,
But you ain’t got time for this…
Through his speech, Shiro moved closer, until he was in arms reach of the one he wanted, but who still seemed so far away. So, he continued to move forward until he had Ichigo’s attention, until they touched. Strange how he hesitates to push him away, “But you’re right on one thing, it doesn’t have to be this way. You could still be here, still be mine.”
Full, colored lips part to say that this is a mistake, their time is up, but any intended sound is muted by rough, pale lips and a champagne flavored tongue.
…And that wreckin’ bell is ringin’
And I’m not satisfied
Until I hold you…
The bottle of bourbon thumps on the carpeted floor, as tan fingers grip the black t-shirt covering pale skin. Locked in a state of indecision, Ichigo doesn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away. He knows because this is just like the first time they kis-
That noise? The doorbell? The doorbell. Ichigo quickly pushes him away, wiping his lips with the back of his hand while retrieving the fallen bottle. The bell rings again and he rushes to the door.
Wanting nothing more than to chase after him, hold him tight and tell him to leave the bastard on the other side of the door, Shiro instead exhibits rarely used control and remains in place, hands shoved securely in his pockets.
...Ichigo,
Tell me where I stand,
And who’s that boy
Holdin’ your hand..?
He heard a gravelly voice before the door even finished opening, “You said you wouldn’t be long, so I just wanted to make sure everything was OK.”
He’d seen the blue-haired man before, but never this close. He’d definitely have a hell of a fight on his hands if he voiced his feelings now, but he at least had to be sure, “So, Ichigo, where do we stand?”
Grabbing the hand of the intruder, Ichigo pulls him in and closes the door. One hand still entangled with his new fuck toy, the other still holding their bottle of bourbon, he answers “If we can’t be friends, then this is it. This is goodbye.” He sounded depressed, but with the decision out there, spoken, what was Shiro supposed to say?
…Oh, Ichigo,
You know I always tried.
Before you say goodbye,
Leave the bourbon on the shelf,
And I’ll drink it by myself,
And I never liked your hair,
Or those people that you lie with…
He laughed quietly and shook his head, “Just leave the bourbon on the shelf.”
He had no intention of staying to watch Ichigo empty half the place, so without saying anything else, and ignoring his orange haired loves defeated look, he headed for the door.
“Hey, asshole! What the fuck’s your problem anyway?” Ah, sounds familiar. Ichigo always did have a thing for the assholes. Shiro paused, but didn’t bother turning around. He wouldn’t throw the first punch, but that didn’t mean he’d stop this whore from digging his own grave.
“Grimmjow, shut the fuck up.” So that was his name…Grimmjow. Stupid fucking name. Though he supposed it matched his stupid fucking hair. Since when did Ichigo like blue? Petty? Yes. Did he care? No.
When the blue-haired pussy failed to offer anymore fight, Shiro continued out the door, stepping into the unfitting beautiful weather. God, how could it be so calm outside when he was such a violent, raging mess on the inside?
…And I’m not satisfied
Until I hold you tight,
And I love you endlessly,
Darling don’t you see
I can’t be satisfied
Until I hold you tight…
Not sure what else to do, he went for a walk. It seemed so stupidly simplistic at the time, while his world was falling apart, but it did give him time to think. He knew he wasn’t perfect, but for Ichigo, his Ichigo, to cheat on him? Somehow, somewhere, there was something he had to have missed. He wasn’t satisfied with the way things ended between them, even less with the way things were now. He wanted answers, but knew that no possible explanation would satisfy him. The only thing he truly wanted was Ichigo.
…Leave the bourbon on the shelf…
He wasn’t quite sure what to expect upon returning, though this did seem appropriate. The dining room table, the plants, the dresser, the candles, half the dishes, multiple books off the shelf, the rest of his clothes, they were all gone. The place looked nearly as empty as he felt. The thing that got him the worst though, were the pictures missing off the wall, mantle, and side table…All of their pictures. He supposed it made sense, the frames were Ichigo’s.
The only things he really had left that had been theirs was the bed and the damned bottle of bourbon.
…And I’ll drink it by myself…
Grabbing the once treasured trophy, he kicked off his shoes and headed back to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of their bed, he looked around the empty room and slowly began unscrewing the cap of the bottle in his hand.
…And I’ll love you endlessly…
Tipping back his head and the bottle, the foul liquid met his tongue, washing away his earlier taste of Ichigo, and promising to help him with the pain. But he knows the reprieve is only temporary. The pain will be there for as long as he loves Ichigo; and he’ll never quit loving Ichigo.
…Darling don’t you see…
After so many years of devotion, could he really just let things end this way? No…Ichigo was his and would always be his.
…I’m not satisfied…”
It won’t end this way…He’ll make sure of it.