RenIchi - Top Of The World (3/4)
Part 1
Part 2
"For fuck's sake, Kurosaki, can't you put it on vibrate? I keep thinking my oven's done working and rush back in here." To top off the outburst, Camellia threw his oven mitts at Ichigo's head.
Out of Orihime's employees, the least likeable was… well, probably Ichigo himself, but the second least likeable was Camellia. He was rude to everyone, including Orihime, and he had no qualms about yelling at Ichigo over random things. He also had a vicious-looking scar above his left eye, and Ichigo suspected his reason for working there wasn't much different than Ichigo's. Occupational therapy.
Orihime must have caught a whiff of the way Camellia grated on his nerves, and made sure that they shared the bare minimum of shifts. That day was one of those. Still, not even being stuck there with Camellia could ruin Ichigo's mood.
Ichigo had never had a lot of friends. Five close ones were enough for him when he grew up, and now he pretty much had to settle for two. It was impossible to make new friends in Karakura because there weren't any new people, and during his first round in Seireitei he'd been too absorbed in his studies to really make new connections, other than Shinji.
The point was that the thing with Renji was new. It wasn't like Renji had instantly become his best friend, he barely even knew him, but he wanted to. He hadn't really felt the need to express interest in other people's lives for two years. Randomly thinking about what someone else was doing had been limited to Uryuu, and not at Ichigo's brightest moments.
Now, he found himself texting Renji for no reason, things like, 'How many hours do you work?' or 'Did you sword yourself today?' ('Swording isn't a verb.' 'It should be.'). Renji was a funny guy, in the way that he said dumb or corny things without meaning to or apologizing about. He wasn't the wittiest or smartest person around (which Ichigo bothered telling him a few times), but he had… heart. He really cared about shit, and it made Ichigo feel involved even if he was just hearing about them. Mentioning capital punishment meant trouble, for example. Renji could go on and on about stupid laws and crises that could have been avoided. Actually, if Renji were witty and smart, he probably would have been dangerous.
So, yeah, Ichigo got shit for receiving texts all the time-the beeping had gained people's attention, but no, he couldn't put it on vibrate, because something vibrating on his person while he was putting three trays into a preheated oven spelled disaster-and Orihime had commented on him not scaring costumers away.
The important thing was that he was in an honestly decent mood. Also, he got a text.
That morning's conversation began after Ichigo had started off the day with Camellia shoving him on his way to the farthest oven. Ichigo had asked, 'Have you ever wanted to kill a coworker?'
It was actually comforting that some people started the day as early as he did. He'd been able to see Renji, thumbing his iPhone while drinking black coffee.
'No, we're professional most of the time. You should know I hear it's unethical to let mutual hatred turn into sexual tension and then hot sex at the workplace.'
Ichigo had blanched. 'Jesus no. The guys an asshole.'
'like you're a delight at 8 am. I like most of the cast and crew.'
'Any sexual tension there?'
'nah.'
He smiled for no reason. 'Too bad. Would have been the only thing that could advance your career.'
'MY CAREER IS FINE. Have you ever gotten any perks from sleeping with people you work with?'
Ichigo thought back on his sordid dating history and drew a blank. 'Never got perks from coworkers or boyfriends or coworking boyfriends.'
'That's sad. Used to date a tattoo artist. Convenient.'
He so should have guessed.
'He did all of your tattoos?'
'Not all we split up before he could finish my back.'
Ichigo spent an entire minute actively regretting not seeing Renji's back. Not that the tattoos on the front weren't remarkable, but he would have liked to see the whole picture. Yes. Okay. Now for something he could put into words… 'Where'd you finish your back then?'
'A studio for the rich and famous.'
Yeah right. 'You're kidding'
'Yeah. Heard of a place from the makeup guy on set. Whered you get the piercings?'
'Not in Seireitei. I was wondering if the tattoos weren't an issue with the production.'
There wasn't a big story behind the piercings. Keigo had gotten him shitfaced one night after graduation, and Ichigo had woken up the next day feeling like his ear would hurt forever. He'd called Keigo and was told that he'd felt rebellious and wanted to defile his body before he had to become a straight-laced med student. A week later, when the pain had finally subsided, Ichigo had gotten used to the thing and even bought a couple of earrings. After that it had just been something he would do. Every time he'd felt too much like a straight-laced med student, he went to Karakura and got his ear pierced again. Uryuu had hated it, of course, but Uryuu had hated most things.
He was distracted by his phone beeping again.
'I wear long robes on the show so the tattoos aren't really exposed.'
'Unless you're shirtless I guess?'
'Have you watched it then?'
'No.' Really, he hadn't watched it. 'just figured yknow. Ratings.'
He would have added that it wasn't that he thought Renji being shirtless was amazing, and maybe took another jab at Renji's job, and just something that didn't make him sound like-
'I love it when no matter what you say I get a compliment.'
Yes, like he was complimenting Renji. Argh. 'Because you know it's killing me on the inside?'
'Exactly.'
That was the last text Ichigo had received, and the one that had made Camellia yell at him. By the time Camellia had retreated Ichigo's oven was beeping, and he sent Renji a quick 'TTYL' before pulling out his trays.
Ichigo had three friends, and wanted to screw just one of them.
*
Oh, yes, Renji thought as he toed off his sneakers and collapsed on the nearest couch. For the first time that month, Renji had come home early. Way early-the sun had just begun setting, lighting up the apartment in a way Renji hadn't even known was possible.
He had only a couple of scenes to shoot that day, and they included Soi Fon, which guaranteed professionalism and swiftness. Usually he still hung around to watch other scenes or chat with Ikkaku, but it was Friday and the weekend beckoned. Or maybe it was his bed. He could probably fall asleep on his fuzzy carpet right then, he was that tired.
But… Renji was a responsible guy. Falling asleep at five p.m. would fuck up his already dysfunctional routine, and he had things to do. Like making food, or catching up with the news, or his emails-he hadn't touched those since last week, when Ichigo had texted him that he wanted his email address so he could send him something funny. Ichigo had a really messed-up, dark sense of humor, but Renji went with it anyway. He used the opportunity to send Ichigo dirty joke pictures, because he was a cool guy and probably didn't know how to utilize the Internet to the max.
He got up with some difficulty and shuffled to the kitchen, heating up the Chinese food he had in his fridge. While he waited, he went to his laptop, on the desk facing the window. He merely sat down and soaked in the sun, enjoying the last bit of it before the sky would be swallowed by darkness.
After a few minutes, he opened the lid of his laptop and woke it up. The moment the screen cleared, Renji opened a new Chrome window and clicked on two bookmarks: Gmail and Yahoo! News. He perked up a bit, feeling some energy returning to his body, when he noticed that in the chat box, Ichigo's dot was green.
Available. Renji's immediate thought was A-ha! like he'd won some sort of prize, and he sent Ichigo a message. Thankfully, he succeeded in not actually typing AHA!
Me: Aren't you working?
Ichi.go: hi. I'm always working. Waiting for a pie to bake.
Me: What flavor?
Ichi.go: PIE FLAVOR.
Ichigo didn't use caps lock like normal humans to express excitement or joy-he did it just to annoy Renji when he was sarcastic.
Me: Asshole. So what do you do while you wait?
Ichi.go: Smoke. Bake something else. Internet. Read books.
Me: Ha. Like what?
Ichi.go: Ever heard of Shakespeare?
Renji shivered.
Me: Did I mention I work for Kuchiki Productions? What'd you think they made me read on my audition?
Ichi.go: IDK, I've never really thought about it. I thought you took your top off and that was that.
Me: I'M NOT A PIECE OF MEAT.
Ichi.go: Right. And why aren't you working?
Me: Got off early. Did you know how cool sunsets looked?
Ichi.go: Idiot. Orihime told me you shot scenes outside too?
Me: Yeah, but only after dark. We close off the black ridge area though. In case you were
looking forward to seeing me randomly running around in my costume.
Ichi.go: I can't tell you how many times I've stared out of the bakery's window expecting to see that.
Me: I can only imagine. Sorry to disappoint.
Ichi.go: whatever.
An idea suddenly came to Renji. Possibly fun, probably a mistake, but what the hell.
Me: You could come and visit on set, though.
Ichi.go: ?
Me: I mean I could call in a favor from the producer. If you wanna see my sword up-close.
Meaning, he could drop a line in front of Rukia and let her insanity do the rest. After he and Ichigo had exchanged numbers, he'd figured he should at least thank Rukia for letting him use Yamada for a while there. As soon as he'd brought it up, she had asked if he was done "passing notes to his cruuush", and from that moment on, she hadn't given it a rest. His first thought had been that she was desperate to see him set up with someone who wasn't her. Then he'd remembered her insanity and how much she'd wanted to be "involved" in Renji's life.
If he asked, he could get permission to bring Ichigo. If Ichigo wanted to and all that. Given their messed-up schedules, it was no surprise that the fact they could meet face-to-face had slipped Renji's mind. Texting every morning and night was okay, but Renji couldn't put the moves on him in writing, not properly.
Ichi.go: Why not. I think I need a reminder of what your sword actually looks like anyway.
Renji was one step away from sending a smiley face.
Ichigo signed off shortly after that, claiming that he had some pie to pie, whatever that meant. Renji sat there, pleased with his prowling skills, until his stomach grumbled and he remembered the Chinese food waiting for him.
Early the next day, Renji was delivered a small pie by Yamada. After being overwhelmed by the smell, he fished out his iPhone.
'HA. BLUEBERRIES.'
You're welcome.'
Renji made a mental note to bug Ichigo every time he pied a pie.
*
Renji: If I tried to bake, would you fuck up the cutlery to hurt me?
Sometimes, Ichigo wondered how getting used to random hypothetical messages affected his brain cells. Renji didn't believe in "Hi" or "Good morning". He believed in "oh fuck can't find my boots" and "I think I'd be an awesome astronaut".
At least when they were texting, Renji limited himself to short sentences. Once he had found the Google Talk app for his iPhone and Ichigo had mentioned that he was logged into the Gmail chat most of the time (his netbook, battered and meant for a med student Ichigo wasn't, was still awesome), Renji pinged him on chat more often than he texted him. If as a result Ichigo took more breaks than he should have, well, he had a nicotine addiction to feed.
He laughed before lighting up his first cigarette of the day, and typed a reply with one hand.
Me: Yes. What?
He knew he was in trouble when "Renji is typing…" appeared for a full minute.
Renji: I was thinking about how not hard baking really is. I'll stick to the recipe and I mastered not-burning myself when I was a kid. The only part that might be challenging is cutting and crushing things, but I've been carrying a badass sword for two years on the show, so I'm skilled with that. = The only way for me to get hurt while baking would be if you sabotaged me.
Renji's reasoning was quite impressive, but not enough for Ichigo to allow him anywhere near an oven.
Me: Why would I even be supervising this culinary disaster?
It took Renji a moment to answer.
Renji: Because I asked you, obvsly.
Me: Well
I don't think the sword experience counts for anything. Actually, I think you're just skilled enough to cut off your thumb with a tray.
Renji: See? Someone needs to witness my death. That's why you'll supervise.
Me: It will take time to lose five pints of blood through a finger, you know. If I just hang around for that long it might as well be manslaughter. I don't want that on my criminal record.
Renji: Are you a vampire?
He laughed. Renji reasoning was quite… something.
Me: The blood thing? No, I studied medicine.
Renji: What. How did you end up a baker?
Me: I was hungry.
Cakes to cake, g2g.
Renji: Cake away.
Ichigo shut down his netbook and put out his cigarette.
*
From: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: hey troll
To: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Made me think of you.
From: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: hey troll
To: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
So what you're getting for your birthday.
From: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: Re: hey troll
To: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Aww, I'm getting a birthday cake?
From: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey troll
To: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
No, as of now.
Renji was constantly amazed by his own prowling skills.
*
"Ichigo, why did your father call to ask me if you were alive?" Orihime asked, poking her head into his room with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.
She retreated as soon as she saw he was wearing just his underwear, which left him asking himself, "The fuck?"
It was inevitable. Although he called Yuzu and Karin regularly, he hadn't spoken to his dad in weeks. Also, there was the small issue of dodging his therapist's calls. It wasn't that he didn't think they had reason to worry, or that he was being rebellious.
The reason was that… he was really okay. For the first time since moving back to the city, he had a routine, wasn't trying to exhaust himself, wasn't miserable most of the time, and somewhere along the way, he lost the nagging sense that it was unnatural for him to be there and that he had to go back home.
Setting up a session with his therapist would mean driving back to Karakura. That would include unwanted things, like risking the return of that sense, facing his old friends, and bringing up the usual topics with his therapist. He was sick of that. Two years of that were more than enough. Ichigo was sick of feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
What could the doctor possibly tell him that was new? He was still working on his anger issues, he still had nightmares and bursts of pain in his arm, he still had weird reactions to metal and cold things. No amount of reviewing would change any of it.
It wasn't like he could forget how it started or ended.
Ichigo had never appreciated being called a thug, but there was no denying that he'd gotten into a lot of fights growing up. His father had always believed Ichigo was conscientious, that he wasn't a mindless bully, which was exactly the reason he'd been worried by Ichigo's moving to the city. He'd been sure that the big city wouldn't do someone like Ichigo any good, and that it might bring something out of him and he'd get in trouble.
Unfortunately, he had been right.
Ichigo had had things under control, at first. He'd been in med school for six months, he'd found a job in a movie theater, and things with Uryuu had been going surprisingly well, too. That they'd spent high school hating each other's guts had been set aside when they'd both applied to the same med school and decided to rent a place together. Better the devil you know.
Ichigo had really gotten used to Uryuu's presence; he'd even appreciated having a reminder of home in Seireitei. Coupled with the craziness of being med students and needing some comfort, they'd kind of randomly started dating.
It was on a date that "it" happened. They'd just left the movie theater together-walking side by side and arguing about something; they hadn't even been holding hands or kissing-and took a shortcut Ichigo knew, when they had been cornered by a group of six burly men. Ichigo hadn't realized exactly what was happening, until he heard the words 'fags' and 'cocksuckers' being echoed by the gang, and then Uryuu really was touching his hand in an attempt to pull him away.
Of course he couldn't let it go. He'd shoved the biggest guy back and then went for a sweep kick while he was distracted. The last thing he'd heard before the fight had really taken off was Uryuu, calling him a fucking idiot.
From that point, he had only scraps of memories from that night. He'd put up a fight and injured several of the guys, but then a knife had been pulled. That moment, he'd never forget. The first time he'd been in that kind of danger in the city, flipping out, letting his fighter instincts take him over completely, manhandling the guy with the weapon without thinking, getting Uryuu stabbed in front of him, right in the gut. That was that. The rest he only knew from what he'd been told at the hospital. He had been stabbed in the arm himself and hit his head on a concrete wall, losing consciousness.
Uryuu had had some surgery and made a full recovery, stubborn as ever, but that night had been the last time Ichigo had seen him. Uryuu's father had shocked everyone by giving a crap. He'd picked up his son from the hospital and together they'd more or less vanished, so that he could personally oversee Uryuu's recovery.
Ichigo had moved back to Karakura, where most of the town had chosen to personally oversee his own recovery. Ichigo's pleasant personality had managed to stop that nonsense, but his friends and family had remained constantly around him, worrying about him. He'd thought it was ridiculous. If they'd known exactly how the fight had gone down and what Ichigo's part in Uryuu's injury was, they never would've accepted him. It had been a blur of adrenaline and punches and hands, but he knew that even though the knife hadn't been in his hand, he'd been the one that had driven it into Uryuu. Ichigo could barely accept himself most of the time, despite all the progress he'd been told he was making.
It was a rather surprising realization that returning to the city had bothered him less than the thought of going back to Karakura at this point. At least in the city he had things to do. Cakes to bake, jobs to perform, people to text. In Karakura he knew exactly what he was getting.
He shut down his laptop and climbed out of bed. Putting on a shirt, he decided to go find Orihime. She was in the living room, looking for something.
"Did you tell him I was fine?" he asked, crossing his arms and watching her.
She didn't look up when she asked, "Are you?"
Ichigo frowned. She was usually a lot less direct. "Yeah," he answered, simply.
"Then why won't you talk to your dad?"
She deserved an answer, of course, but he wasn't sure himself, and thought he was missing something. "I'll talk to him. I'm sorry he bothered you," he added.
Orihime did look up then, and Ichigo noticed that she looked more tired than usual, frazzled. It must not have been a very good morning. She worried her lower lip.
"Sorry I'm being curt. It's just… he's worried about you, Ichigo. I shouldn't be the one getting phone calls early in the morning from Kurosakis wondering if you're alive." It was something she never would have said if it hadn't really been bothering her, and that made Ichigo feel like a complete asshole.
"You're right, you shouldn't be. I'll make it up to you. Do you want me to go in today?" He didn't have a shift that day, but going to the factory instead of her seemed like a nice way to apologize.
She smiled. It was strained, but a smile nonetheless. "No, Lily's already there. You should stay here and talk to your family." She paused. "And maybe help me find my keys."
"On it!"
Ichigo spent the next two hours on the phone, first with his father (moronic), then with his sisters (amazing), and finally with his therapist (annoying, but he understood why Ichigo didn't want another session for the time being). By the time he was finished, he felt drained and wanted nothing more than to watch television and nap.
The problem was that with all the talk about his mental stability, he knew exactly what would happen if he tried to sleep right then. He dropped his phone on the bed and got to his feet before he could convince himself not to. He changed his clothes and wrote Orihime a quick note: 'Spoke to everyone. Sorry about this morning. Gone for a run'.
Orihime found him all but passed out on the living room couch when she came home, much later, and woke him up so he could move to his bed. He could barely drag himself to his room. His muscles burned and his arm was killing him, but he knew that when he fell asleep, it would be dreamless.
Ichigo woke up at ten a.m. to a beeping noise. He instinctively flung his arm to where his phone should have been so he could turn off the alarm, only to hit his dresser. Ow. Then he realized what state he'd woken up into. Ow.
He'd hoped the sleep would help soothe his mind somehow, but all it did was numb him. His body still hurt from the treatment it had gotten the previous day (he really should quit smoking, sometime, if he got the chance), and he was in a sour mood. His head spun.
When the beeping continued, Ichigo gave up on the idea of going back to sleep and turned around to find his phone. For some weird reason it was on the floor, and Ichigo groaned like an old man when he reached for it.
If he'd felt a sharp lift in his spirits when he saw it was a text from Renji, of course it faded away when he read the text.
'Are you ok?'
Ichigo cursed, raising his other hand from under the blanket so he could type faster. Did Renji possess the ability to sense his mood or something?
'Sorta. Why?'
Renji answered quickly. 'You didnt text me yesterday.'
Oh. He chuckled at the thought of worrying Renji. That it made him feel a bit better didn't mean he couldn't make fun of him.
'Aren't you a celebrity? I thought you had other people to talk to.'
He could almost hear Renji's indignant tone when he read the reply: 'I was just a little worried, jackass.'
There it was. Admission. Maybe they were getting closer than Ichigo had realized. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, so he just texted back: 'Right. Sorry. Working on it.'
'Aren't we all?'
Ichigo guessed he was right.
Part 4
Part 2
"For fuck's sake, Kurosaki, can't you put it on vibrate? I keep thinking my oven's done working and rush back in here." To top off the outburst, Camellia threw his oven mitts at Ichigo's head.
Out of Orihime's employees, the least likeable was… well, probably Ichigo himself, but the second least likeable was Camellia. He was rude to everyone, including Orihime, and he had no qualms about yelling at Ichigo over random things. He also had a vicious-looking scar above his left eye, and Ichigo suspected his reason for working there wasn't much different than Ichigo's. Occupational therapy.
Orihime must have caught a whiff of the way Camellia grated on his nerves, and made sure that they shared the bare minimum of shifts. That day was one of those. Still, not even being stuck there with Camellia could ruin Ichigo's mood.
Ichigo had never had a lot of friends. Five close ones were enough for him when he grew up, and now he pretty much had to settle for two. It was impossible to make new friends in Karakura because there weren't any new people, and during his first round in Seireitei he'd been too absorbed in his studies to really make new connections, other than Shinji.
The point was that the thing with Renji was new. It wasn't like Renji had instantly become his best friend, he barely even knew him, but he wanted to. He hadn't really felt the need to express interest in other people's lives for two years. Randomly thinking about what someone else was doing had been limited to Uryuu, and not at Ichigo's brightest moments.
Now, he found himself texting Renji for no reason, things like, 'How many hours do you work?' or 'Did you sword yourself today?' ('Swording isn't a verb.' 'It should be.'). Renji was a funny guy, in the way that he said dumb or corny things without meaning to or apologizing about. He wasn't the wittiest or smartest person around (which Ichigo bothered telling him a few times), but he had… heart. He really cared about shit, and it made Ichigo feel involved even if he was just hearing about them. Mentioning capital punishment meant trouble, for example. Renji could go on and on about stupid laws and crises that could have been avoided. Actually, if Renji were witty and smart, he probably would have been dangerous.
So, yeah, Ichigo got shit for receiving texts all the time-the beeping had gained people's attention, but no, he couldn't put it on vibrate, because something vibrating on his person while he was putting three trays into a preheated oven spelled disaster-and Orihime had commented on him not scaring costumers away.
The important thing was that he was in an honestly decent mood. Also, he got a text.
That morning's conversation began after Ichigo had started off the day with Camellia shoving him on his way to the farthest oven. Ichigo had asked, 'Have you ever wanted to kill a coworker?'
It was actually comforting that some people started the day as early as he did. He'd been able to see Renji, thumbing his iPhone while drinking black coffee.
'No, we're professional most of the time. You should know I hear it's unethical to let mutual hatred turn into sexual tension and then hot sex at the workplace.'
Ichigo had blanched. 'Jesus no. The guys an asshole.'
'like you're a delight at 8 am. I like most of the cast and crew.'
'Any sexual tension there?'
'nah.'
He smiled for no reason. 'Too bad. Would have been the only thing that could advance your career.'
'MY CAREER IS FINE. Have you ever gotten any perks from sleeping with people you work with?'
Ichigo thought back on his sordid dating history and drew a blank. 'Never got perks from coworkers or boyfriends or coworking boyfriends.'
'That's sad. Used to date a tattoo artist. Convenient.'
He so should have guessed.
'He did all of your tattoos?'
'Not all we split up before he could finish my back.'
Ichigo spent an entire minute actively regretting not seeing Renji's back. Not that the tattoos on the front weren't remarkable, but he would have liked to see the whole picture. Yes. Okay. Now for something he could put into words… 'Where'd you finish your back then?'
'A studio for the rich and famous.'
Yeah right. 'You're kidding'
'Yeah. Heard of a place from the makeup guy on set. Whered you get the piercings?'
'Not in Seireitei. I was wondering if the tattoos weren't an issue with the production.'
There wasn't a big story behind the piercings. Keigo had gotten him shitfaced one night after graduation, and Ichigo had woken up the next day feeling like his ear would hurt forever. He'd called Keigo and was told that he'd felt rebellious and wanted to defile his body before he had to become a straight-laced med student. A week later, when the pain had finally subsided, Ichigo had gotten used to the thing and even bought a couple of earrings. After that it had just been something he would do. Every time he'd felt too much like a straight-laced med student, he went to Karakura and got his ear pierced again. Uryuu had hated it, of course, but Uryuu had hated most things.
He was distracted by his phone beeping again.
'I wear long robes on the show so the tattoos aren't really exposed.'
'Unless you're shirtless I guess?'
'Have you watched it then?'
'No.' Really, he hadn't watched it. 'just figured yknow. Ratings.'
He would have added that it wasn't that he thought Renji being shirtless was amazing, and maybe took another jab at Renji's job, and just something that didn't make him sound like-
'I love it when no matter what you say I get a compliment.'
Yes, like he was complimenting Renji. Argh. 'Because you know it's killing me on the inside?'
'Exactly.'
That was the last text Ichigo had received, and the one that had made Camellia yell at him. By the time Camellia had retreated Ichigo's oven was beeping, and he sent Renji a quick 'TTYL' before pulling out his trays.
Ichigo had three friends, and wanted to screw just one of them.
*
Oh, yes, Renji thought as he toed off his sneakers and collapsed on the nearest couch. For the first time that month, Renji had come home early. Way early-the sun had just begun setting, lighting up the apartment in a way Renji hadn't even known was possible.
He had only a couple of scenes to shoot that day, and they included Soi Fon, which guaranteed professionalism and swiftness. Usually he still hung around to watch other scenes or chat with Ikkaku, but it was Friday and the weekend beckoned. Or maybe it was his bed. He could probably fall asleep on his fuzzy carpet right then, he was that tired.
But… Renji was a responsible guy. Falling asleep at five p.m. would fuck up his already dysfunctional routine, and he had things to do. Like making food, or catching up with the news, or his emails-he hadn't touched those since last week, when Ichigo had texted him that he wanted his email address so he could send him something funny. Ichigo had a really messed-up, dark sense of humor, but Renji went with it anyway. He used the opportunity to send Ichigo dirty joke pictures, because he was a cool guy and probably didn't know how to utilize the Internet to the max.
He got up with some difficulty and shuffled to the kitchen, heating up the Chinese food he had in his fridge. While he waited, he went to his laptop, on the desk facing the window. He merely sat down and soaked in the sun, enjoying the last bit of it before the sky would be swallowed by darkness.
After a few minutes, he opened the lid of his laptop and woke it up. The moment the screen cleared, Renji opened a new Chrome window and clicked on two bookmarks: Gmail and Yahoo! News. He perked up a bit, feeling some energy returning to his body, when he noticed that in the chat box, Ichigo's dot was green.
Available. Renji's immediate thought was A-ha! like he'd won some sort of prize, and he sent Ichigo a message. Thankfully, he succeeded in not actually typing AHA!
Me: Aren't you working?
Ichi.go: hi. I'm always working. Waiting for a pie to bake.
Me: What flavor?
Ichi.go: PIE FLAVOR.
Ichigo didn't use caps lock like normal humans to express excitement or joy-he did it just to annoy Renji when he was sarcastic.
Me: Asshole. So what do you do while you wait?
Ichi.go: Smoke. Bake something else. Internet. Read books.
Me: Ha. Like what?
Ichi.go: Ever heard of Shakespeare?
Renji shivered.
Me: Did I mention I work for Kuchiki Productions? What'd you think they made me read on my audition?
Ichi.go: IDK, I've never really thought about it. I thought you took your top off and that was that.
Me: I'M NOT A PIECE OF MEAT.
Ichi.go: Right. And why aren't you working?
Me: Got off early. Did you know how cool sunsets looked?
Ichi.go: Idiot. Orihime told me you shot scenes outside too?
Me: Yeah, but only after dark. We close off the black ridge area though. In case you were
looking forward to seeing me randomly running around in my costume.
Ichi.go: I can't tell you how many times I've stared out of the bakery's window expecting to see that.
Me: I can only imagine. Sorry to disappoint.
Ichi.go: whatever.
An idea suddenly came to Renji. Possibly fun, probably a mistake, but what the hell.
Me: You could come and visit on set, though.
Ichi.go: ?
Me: I mean I could call in a favor from the producer. If you wanna see my sword up-close.
Meaning, he could drop a line in front of Rukia and let her insanity do the rest. After he and Ichigo had exchanged numbers, he'd figured he should at least thank Rukia for letting him use Yamada for a while there. As soon as he'd brought it up, she had asked if he was done "passing notes to his cruuush", and from that moment on, she hadn't given it a rest. His first thought had been that she was desperate to see him set up with someone who wasn't her. Then he'd remembered her insanity and how much she'd wanted to be "involved" in Renji's life.
If he asked, he could get permission to bring Ichigo. If Ichigo wanted to and all that. Given their messed-up schedules, it was no surprise that the fact they could meet face-to-face had slipped Renji's mind. Texting every morning and night was okay, but Renji couldn't put the moves on him in writing, not properly.
Ichi.go: Why not. I think I need a reminder of what your sword actually looks like anyway.
Renji was one step away from sending a smiley face.
Ichigo signed off shortly after that, claiming that he had some pie to pie, whatever that meant. Renji sat there, pleased with his prowling skills, until his stomach grumbled and he remembered the Chinese food waiting for him.
Early the next day, Renji was delivered a small pie by Yamada. After being overwhelmed by the smell, he fished out his iPhone.
'HA. BLUEBERRIES.'
You're welcome.'
Renji made a mental note to bug Ichigo every time he pied a pie.
*
Renji: If I tried to bake, would you fuck up the cutlery to hurt me?
Sometimes, Ichigo wondered how getting used to random hypothetical messages affected his brain cells. Renji didn't believe in "Hi" or "Good morning". He believed in "oh fuck can't find my boots" and "I think I'd be an awesome astronaut".
At least when they were texting, Renji limited himself to short sentences. Once he had found the Google Talk app for his iPhone and Ichigo had mentioned that he was logged into the Gmail chat most of the time (his netbook, battered and meant for a med student Ichigo wasn't, was still awesome), Renji pinged him on chat more often than he texted him. If as a result Ichigo took more breaks than he should have, well, he had a nicotine addiction to feed.
He laughed before lighting up his first cigarette of the day, and typed a reply with one hand.
Me: Yes. What?
He knew he was in trouble when "Renji is typing…" appeared for a full minute.
Renji: I was thinking about how not hard baking really is. I'll stick to the recipe and I mastered not-burning myself when I was a kid. The only part that might be challenging is cutting and crushing things, but I've been carrying a badass sword for two years on the show, so I'm skilled with that. = The only way for me to get hurt while baking would be if you sabotaged me.
Renji's reasoning was quite impressive, but not enough for Ichigo to allow him anywhere near an oven.
Me: Why would I even be supervising this culinary disaster?
It took Renji a moment to answer.
Renji: Because I asked you, obvsly.
Me: Well
I don't think the sword experience counts for anything. Actually, I think you're just skilled enough to cut off your thumb with a tray.
Renji: See? Someone needs to witness my death. That's why you'll supervise.
Me: It will take time to lose five pints of blood through a finger, you know. If I just hang around for that long it might as well be manslaughter. I don't want that on my criminal record.
Renji: Are you a vampire?
He laughed. Renji reasoning was quite… something.
Me: The blood thing? No, I studied medicine.
Renji: What. How did you end up a baker?
Me: I was hungry.
Cakes to cake, g2g.
Renji: Cake away.
Ichigo shut down his netbook and put out his cigarette.
*
From: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: hey troll
To: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Made me think of you.
From: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: hey troll
To: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
So what you're getting for your birthday.
From: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: Re: hey troll
To: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Aww, I'm getting a birthday cake?
From: Ichigo Kurosaki ichi.go@gmail.com
Date: 4/25/2010
Subject: Re: Re: Re: hey troll
To: Renji renjiabtastic@gmail.com
No, as of now.
Renji was constantly amazed by his own prowling skills.
*
"Ichigo, why did your father call to ask me if you were alive?" Orihime asked, poking her head into his room with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.
She retreated as soon as she saw he was wearing just his underwear, which left him asking himself, "The fuck?"
It was inevitable. Although he called Yuzu and Karin regularly, he hadn't spoken to his dad in weeks. Also, there was the small issue of dodging his therapist's calls. It wasn't that he didn't think they had reason to worry, or that he was being rebellious.
The reason was that… he was really okay. For the first time since moving back to the city, he had a routine, wasn't trying to exhaust himself, wasn't miserable most of the time, and somewhere along the way, he lost the nagging sense that it was unnatural for him to be there and that he had to go back home.
Setting up a session with his therapist would mean driving back to Karakura. That would include unwanted things, like risking the return of that sense, facing his old friends, and bringing up the usual topics with his therapist. He was sick of that. Two years of that were more than enough. Ichigo was sick of feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
What could the doctor possibly tell him that was new? He was still working on his anger issues, he still had nightmares and bursts of pain in his arm, he still had weird reactions to metal and cold things. No amount of reviewing would change any of it.
It wasn't like he could forget how it started or ended.
Ichigo had never appreciated being called a thug, but there was no denying that he'd gotten into a lot of fights growing up. His father had always believed Ichigo was conscientious, that he wasn't a mindless bully, which was exactly the reason he'd been worried by Ichigo's moving to the city. He'd been sure that the big city wouldn't do someone like Ichigo any good, and that it might bring something out of him and he'd get in trouble.
Unfortunately, he had been right.
Ichigo had had things under control, at first. He'd been in med school for six months, he'd found a job in a movie theater, and things with Uryuu had been going surprisingly well, too. That they'd spent high school hating each other's guts had been set aside when they'd both applied to the same med school and decided to rent a place together. Better the devil you know.
Ichigo had really gotten used to Uryuu's presence; he'd even appreciated having a reminder of home in Seireitei. Coupled with the craziness of being med students and needing some comfort, they'd kind of randomly started dating.
It was on a date that "it" happened. They'd just left the movie theater together-walking side by side and arguing about something; they hadn't even been holding hands or kissing-and took a shortcut Ichigo knew, when they had been cornered by a group of six burly men. Ichigo hadn't realized exactly what was happening, until he heard the words 'fags' and 'cocksuckers' being echoed by the gang, and then Uryuu really was touching his hand in an attempt to pull him away.
Of course he couldn't let it go. He'd shoved the biggest guy back and then went for a sweep kick while he was distracted. The last thing he'd heard before the fight had really taken off was Uryuu, calling him a fucking idiot.
From that point, he had only scraps of memories from that night. He'd put up a fight and injured several of the guys, but then a knife had been pulled. That moment, he'd never forget. The first time he'd been in that kind of danger in the city, flipping out, letting his fighter instincts take him over completely, manhandling the guy with the weapon without thinking, getting Uryuu stabbed in front of him, right in the gut. That was that. The rest he only knew from what he'd been told at the hospital. He had been stabbed in the arm himself and hit his head on a concrete wall, losing consciousness.
Uryuu had had some surgery and made a full recovery, stubborn as ever, but that night had been the last time Ichigo had seen him. Uryuu's father had shocked everyone by giving a crap. He'd picked up his son from the hospital and together they'd more or less vanished, so that he could personally oversee Uryuu's recovery.
Ichigo had moved back to Karakura, where most of the town had chosen to personally oversee his own recovery. Ichigo's pleasant personality had managed to stop that nonsense, but his friends and family had remained constantly around him, worrying about him. He'd thought it was ridiculous. If they'd known exactly how the fight had gone down and what Ichigo's part in Uryuu's injury was, they never would've accepted him. It had been a blur of adrenaline and punches and hands, but he knew that even though the knife hadn't been in his hand, he'd been the one that had driven it into Uryuu. Ichigo could barely accept himself most of the time, despite all the progress he'd been told he was making.
It was a rather surprising realization that returning to the city had bothered him less than the thought of going back to Karakura at this point. At least in the city he had things to do. Cakes to bake, jobs to perform, people to text. In Karakura he knew exactly what he was getting.
He shut down his laptop and climbed out of bed. Putting on a shirt, he decided to go find Orihime. She was in the living room, looking for something.
"Did you tell him I was fine?" he asked, crossing his arms and watching her.
She didn't look up when she asked, "Are you?"
Ichigo frowned. She was usually a lot less direct. "Yeah," he answered, simply.
"Then why won't you talk to your dad?"
She deserved an answer, of course, but he wasn't sure himself, and thought he was missing something. "I'll talk to him. I'm sorry he bothered you," he added.
Orihime did look up then, and Ichigo noticed that she looked more tired than usual, frazzled. It must not have been a very good morning. She worried her lower lip.
"Sorry I'm being curt. It's just… he's worried about you, Ichigo. I shouldn't be the one getting phone calls early in the morning from Kurosakis wondering if you're alive." It was something she never would have said if it hadn't really been bothering her, and that made Ichigo feel like a complete asshole.
"You're right, you shouldn't be. I'll make it up to you. Do you want me to go in today?" He didn't have a shift that day, but going to the factory instead of her seemed like a nice way to apologize.
She smiled. It was strained, but a smile nonetheless. "No, Lily's already there. You should stay here and talk to your family." She paused. "And maybe help me find my keys."
"On it!"
Ichigo spent the next two hours on the phone, first with his father (moronic), then with his sisters (amazing), and finally with his therapist (annoying, but he understood why Ichigo didn't want another session for the time being). By the time he was finished, he felt drained and wanted nothing more than to watch television and nap.
The problem was that with all the talk about his mental stability, he knew exactly what would happen if he tried to sleep right then. He dropped his phone on the bed and got to his feet before he could convince himself not to. He changed his clothes and wrote Orihime a quick note: 'Spoke to everyone. Sorry about this morning. Gone for a run'.
Orihime found him all but passed out on the living room couch when she came home, much later, and woke him up so he could move to his bed. He could barely drag himself to his room. His muscles burned and his arm was killing him, but he knew that when he fell asleep, it would be dreamless.
Ichigo woke up at ten a.m. to a beeping noise. He instinctively flung his arm to where his phone should have been so he could turn off the alarm, only to hit his dresser. Ow. Then he realized what state he'd woken up into. Ow.
He'd hoped the sleep would help soothe his mind somehow, but all it did was numb him. His body still hurt from the treatment it had gotten the previous day (he really should quit smoking, sometime, if he got the chance), and he was in a sour mood. His head spun.
When the beeping continued, Ichigo gave up on the idea of going back to sleep and turned around to find his phone. For some weird reason it was on the floor, and Ichigo groaned like an old man when he reached for it.
If he'd felt a sharp lift in his spirits when he saw it was a text from Renji, of course it faded away when he read the text.
'Are you ok?'
Ichigo cursed, raising his other hand from under the blanket so he could type faster. Did Renji possess the ability to sense his mood or something?
'Sorta. Why?'
Renji answered quickly. 'You didnt text me yesterday.'
Oh. He chuckled at the thought of worrying Renji. That it made him feel a bit better didn't mean he couldn't make fun of him.
'Aren't you a celebrity? I thought you had other people to talk to.'
He could almost hear Renji's indignant tone when he read the reply: 'I was just a little worried, jackass.'
There it was. Admission. Maybe they were getting closer than Ichigo had realized. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, so he just texted back: 'Right. Sorry. Working on it.'
'Aren't we all?'
Ichigo guessed he was right.
Part 4