Second Sight, Part 4/9: I Need You To Take A Picture
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Part 4: I Need You To Take A Picture
Born to be down
I've learned all my lessons before now
Born to be down
I think you'll get used to it
(Bound For The Floor, Local H)
Ichigo was getting strangely used to receiving text messages in the middle of the night. Usually Renji just wanted to relate a story or was extremely bored, and Ichigo was always up anyway.
That was why he was surprised to be woken up by the buzzer to his apartment. At first he was sure it had been a dream, but then he heard another buzz that jolted him upright. He glanced at his digital alarm clock on his nightstand. 04:00.
"What the fuck…" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and stumbling out of his bed. He tried not to bump into a table or run into walls on his way to the door, because it was a bit hard to maintain his graceful self after just one hour of sleep.
He looked through the peephole, and unlocked his door quickly when he found Renji standing outside his apartment in the middle of the night. He doubted Renji was drunk and thought it would be a wise idea to visit, or that there was some urgent matter that had to do with him for some reason that couldn't have been resolved in the morning. With those two strikeouts, it meant…
Ichigo felt extremely awake as worry crept in. Something must have been seriously wrong, and he hoped he was equipped to help. He let Renji in quickly, and inspected him at once. Renji wore a gray hoodie that was drawn up so it was covering his right eye, but Ichigo thought he saw a purple patch along his cheek.
At first he thought it was just his sideburn, but then he actually took Renji's face in as a whole, and shit. There were bruises on his right cheek and around the left side of his mouth, an angry purple spreading all the way to his chin. There was blood running down his swollen lower lip.
Ichigo didn't say a word, didn't even think before he reached up and drew Renji's hoodie back. His hunch had been right-Renji had a black eye. "Shit," he whispered.
Renji tried to nod, but with Ichigo's hand still clenching the hoodie, he could feel him shake just because he tried to move. His pupils were dilated and he was breathing hard and Ichigo was worried he was about to collapse. He took Renji's hand carefully, not sure whether it was injured, and pulled him into the living room.
When they got there he lightly pushed Renji into the couch, causing him to grimace as he struggled to sit upright. He snatched his hand away from Ichigo, which made him look at it-oh. All of Renji's knuckles were the same color as the bruises on his face, except for the ones that were bloody. Ichigo's eyes widened, his heart racing.
He practically ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wetting it under the tap and then rushing back to the couch. He sat down next to Renji and took his hand again, ignoring his hiss of protest. Neither of them spoke a word, but Ichigo's thoughts were running a mile a minute in his head: What's he doing here, what happened, what am I doing, what the hell happened?
He pressed the wet towel to the back of Renji's hand, trying to wipe off the blood and see the actual damage. Renji tried to jerk his hand away, and Ichigo decided to ask the first thing on his mind to keep Renji distracted from the pain. "Where were you?"
Renji huffed, and Ichigo knew he was looking away. He started wondering if Renji was going to answer at all when he finally heard a faint, "I was in Rukongai."
Renji's voice was so gritty it was barely recognizable. He must have been coughing, and given the blood on his lips… Ichigo shook his head. He hadn't actually heard him cough, so he was willing to hope the scratchy voice was from yelling and the blood was from his lip, not his lungs.
As for what he'd said… Everyone knew about Rukongai. It was built on the outskirts of Seireitei and society, it was the big town that was made of distressed neighborhoods, the dangerous place you'd never want your kids to hang out-you name it.
A month back, Renji simply stating he'd grown up orphaned in the slums there had raised a few questions in Ichigo's head, but at the time, they weren't his to ask. Right then, even though Ichigo had heard the stories and knew about horrible things that happened there night and day, Renji just saying he'd been in Rukongai didn't answer what exactly had happened, why he’d shown up at Ichigo's place (they'd only known each other for three months, after all, it didn't make sense that Ichigo was Renji's go-to guy), and how Ichigo could help.
He focused on rubbing Renji's knuckles and fingers clean, wondering if he should clean his face next, only that thought made him think about Renji's face and the way it seemed even fiercer than usual with all the blood-the hard expression and Renji's eyes, alert and dark and dangerous.
He hadn't realized he'd been wiping a clean index finger until Renji said, "Will you stop? It's not my blood."
Ichigo shook his head again, dropping the now dirty towel. It did seem like there were no cuts on Renji's hands, but he knew the blood on his face couldn't have been anyone else's.
"You're telling me to stop worrying?" he snapped, all the thoughts finding their way out in his angry tone. "You crazy fuck, what the hell happened?"
Renji shrugged, looking away from him. Ichigo narrowed his eyes, pulling lightly at Renji's hand. It might not have been bleeding, but Ichigo knew it hurt like a bitch. "Why did you come here?" he asked, dropping his voice lower.
"Your place was the closest," Renji answered, looking down at their hands.
That didn't satisfy Ichigo in the least. "Bullshit. You told me where you lived, moron, and it's closer to Rukongai than this place is."
"I…" Renji started, mumbling. He trailed off and went quiet for a few more moments, making Ichigo believe he wasn't going to reply again. Then he continued. "I didn't want nobody to… see me like this." He finally lifted his head, giving Ichigo a piercing look. "Hell, Ichigo, I don't know why I came here."
"Nobody but me?" Ichigo was a little stunned. So of course he blurted the first thing that came to his mind and called Renji a moron, and then Renji was turning his eyes away again, wrenching his hands free. Ichigo cursed. "Look man, I'm sorry. I'm not saying you shouldn't have come here. The least I can do is get you an icepack and let you crash if you want, it's no problem. I just wanna know what happened."
He threw the towel on the coffee table and looked at Renji's hands until he was satisfied with his work. No cuts meant no infections. He should probably get that icepack, though.
Of course, he crossed his arms and made sure he looked like he wasn't going to move an inch until Renji started explaining. Luckily, Renji must have been too out of it to call his bluff.
"I had shit to do in the… deeper streets." He was silent for a few more moments, and Ichigo remembered what Renji had said about growing up there. Despite hearing the tales, Rukongai's awfulness only really hit Ichigo for the first time when he stared at Renji beaten and bruised.
Renji took a shaky breath and went on. "On my way back I got caught up in a fight with some gang of drunk guys. Two of 'em shoved me from behind before I knew what was going on and I crashed." He looked away again, like it was embarrassing. Like Ichigo didn't get the shit kicked out of him growing up the motherless ginger faggot.
"Did you manage to get up?" Ichigo asked quietly, trying to get Renji's attention back.
"Yeah, but only after they got a few good kicks in." That made Ichigo perk up, a whole set of alarm bells going off in his head. That explains the crouching. I should really check his ribs.
For some reason, it seemed like his instinct for taking care of people-that led him to fucking clean Renji's hands-and all the first aid instilled in him as a kid were shoved to the back of his mind if it meant he could hear Renji talk. He wasn't even sure why it was so important for him to understand, but it was.
Suddenly Renji was smirking, and hell, the menace there was even scarier when there was blood on his lips, let alone when he was sitting that close to Ichigo. "But then I got up," he said, his voice much lower, the intensity in it making Ichigo shiver. "And they went down so hard two of 'em passed out."
"Well obviously, dimwit, they took on a trained bodyguard," Ichigo managed to murmur, but he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Who could blame him, with the way Renji was looking at him, that dangerous smirk still on his lips. That voice in him that was supposed to tell him to find cover was screaming at him to charge forward.
"You think it was my training?" Renji asked quietly, leaning forward unsteadily. "It's in my blood, Ichigo, what gets me up when I'm kicked down. The instinct to fight tooth and nail for my life. It saved me every time in the streets. The job was just a bonus," he whispered, his voice rough from the fight.
Ichigo was… riveted. He knew that getting to hear all that and digging into Renji's psyche was a rare occasion and maybe it was scary, and maybe he liked it. Liked Renji telling him all those things, liked what they said about him, and liked the thrill that shark-like smirk was raising in him.
He liked it too much. He needed to get up.
"I'll go get that ice. Try not to move, I need to check if you've cracked any ribs. It's bad enough that you walked all the way here, what if you've punctured a lung or something?" Ichigo rushed to the kitchen. It suddenly hit him that his hypothesis could very well be true because Renji was a crazy fuck. Ichigo grabbed the nearest icepack in the freezer and then went back to the couch, scooting as close to Renji as he allowed himself to.
"Take off your shirt," he said without hesitation, hoping that if he sounded confident enough Renji would just do as he was told. It worked.
Ichigo regretted it a moment later, and not because of Renji's hiss of pain or the way the thick fabric clung to his skin with blood, but because even in that state Renji being shirtless affected him.
It wasn't like he didn't see Renji shirtless on a weekly basis, but this time he didn't have a camera or a canvas, and he was in Renji's personal space and he would have to… Suck it up, damn it, you're not fifteen.
"Try to straighten up for a moment," he said, avoiding Renji's eyes for all he was worth. He might not have been fifteen, but he knew what his face heating up meant. Renji did perk up a bit, his breath catching. Ichigo knew it must have hurt, but Renji didn't say a word. He didn't really expect him to complain.
He watched, a bit mesmerized, as Renji's muscles stretched under his sweaty skin, his tribal tattoos somehow more intimidating in the dark. He was still stunning, but Ichigo didn't have time to get absorbed in it because he immediately spotted the bruises from the kicks-darkly colored patches sprouted on usually pale skin.
"I'll need to touch… oh, fuck it," he muttered, already laying a careful hand on Renji's chest. His skin was hot and his muscles clenched under Ichigo's touch, and it made his breath hitch. Focus.
He ran his hand over Renji's ribcage as gently as he could, avoiding the bruises and checking for any displacements. Seven vertebrosternal ribs, three vertebrocostal ribs … Yes, it turned out recalling the anatomy of the human body helped distract him from Renji's abs. Only it really didn't.
"So?" Renji asked, reminding Ichigo just how raspy his voice was and how close they were and how hot his place had suddenly become. Ichigo pulled back instantly, trying to maintain a professional appearance.
"You're good. Put some ice on the bruises if they still hurt, though," he said with authority, handing Renji the colorful icepacks with the giraffes his sister had insisted on him taking to his new place.
"Thanks." Renji took them, his fingers hesitating for a moment on Ichigo's hand, so briefly Ichigo could have imagined it. Then Renji pressed the icepack to the biggest bruise, on the right side of his abdomen. Ichigo was completely unprepared for what happened next; Renji leaned back on the couch with closed eyes and a small gasp, probably because of the cold.
When he opened his eyes again he turned his head to Ichigo, and the smirk died on his bruised lips. His eyes were darker than they'd been when he'd closed them. "Ichigo, I need to ask you to do something for me."
Will it involve kneeling? "Sure," he muttered.
"I want you…" Renji hesitated, closing his eyes again. Please, yes, I'll do it. "I need you to take a picture."
Wait. Ichigo started, wondering if Renji suffered head trauma as well. "Of what?"
Renji looked down at himself. "My body. Like this."
"But… Renji, you know those bruises aren't pretty." Since when did he suggest getting photographed?
Since when did I refuse?
Since Renji decided to bleed on his couch, probably.
"I thought you weren't going for pretty," Renji threw back at him. The smirk was tugging on his lips again. Ichigo wanted to tug on his lips. Which raised the disturbing question, why the fuck do I still want to kiss him even when his lip's bleeding?
He wouldn't let Renji divert the subject. "You're the one asking, it doesn't matter what I'm going for. Answer me."
Renji narrowed his eyes at him, and then cursed, raising the second icepack with his free hand and carefully pressing it to his right eye. It seemed to convince him to answer. "It's the… that was the first fight I got into in that place as an adult. I need to remember it, just like I went there to remember my… my life, in the first place. I don't… Look, I don't really understand it anymore than I understand coming here, but I know I need that so that the pain would mean something."
He looked brutally sincere, and even with all his worry and the need to get Renji washed and better, there was no way Ichigo could have said no.
"Alright then. Do you…" he bit his lip, knowing he was going to regret it. "Do you want me to clean your face first?"
Renji shook his head. "Not yet. Do I look as bad as I feel?"
"I don't think you possess the ability to look bad, Renji," Ichigo said as he got up from the couch and went to his studio, which spared him from seeing Renji's reaction. He took his good autofocus camera from the desk, and it felt unusually cold in his hands after he'd spent a while touching Renji's torso and hands.
He took a moment in the studio to clear his mind. It wasn't as stuffy in there, thanks to the big window, and it was well out of Renji's personal space. It felt safe and familiar in there.
Who the hell wants that?
He stepped out of the studio and went back into the living room, feeling oddly determined to take the best picture he could and portray all that Renji wanted. It was Renji's first requested picture and hell if Ichigo was going to mess it up.
"Dude, you're not passed out, right?" he asked, stopping behind the coffee table in front of the couch. He knelt there, putting the camera in his lap. Renji's eye slowly opened, and he removed the icepack from the side of his face to open the other one as well. Drops from the melted ice were running down Renji's face, over the bruise, his cheekbones, and then just barely touching his lips. Ichigo unconsciously wet his own lips, and busied himself with turning the camera on.
He heard Renji toss the icepack to the coffee table. "Would we have to turn on the light?" Renji asked, and if during his five minutes in the studio Ichigo had somehow forgotten how gruff Renji sounded, well, it only served to cause a jolt to run down his spine.
"I think the flash will do. The bruises look better like shadows on your skin rather than purple marks, anyway." He wasn't sure when his shoptalk became so familiar with Renji's skin. He set the camera up and turned on the high power flash, but hesitated suddenly, for Renji's sake. "Before I do anything, I need to know if you're sure about this. I'm gonna do the best I can if you say yes, but if not… Some marks should just fade, y'know?"
Renji quirked one eyebrow, looking at Ichigo seriously. "You're the only person in my life who's ever spent so much time looking at my tattoos. I think you know I'm not the kinda guy who lets things fade."
He's got a point there. Ichigo sighed. "Here we go."
He looked through the lens. The distance between the couch and where he was kneeling was perfect to capture all of Renji's body, but neither of them was interested in that. He zoomed in carefully.
There. He had Renji from his waist to the top of his ponytail.
Ichigo's throat felt dry all over again as he looked. Renji stared back at the camera, his eyes narrowed and a bit hostile again, like he was getting ready to pounce on Ichigo. He leaned his head on the backrest of the couch so his neck was a bit stretched, making the tattoos painfully obvious, and Ichigo noticed with fascination that some blood had dried there while traveling down from Renji's jaw.
Renji was bloody and beaten and he really didn't possess the ability to look bad. The sight of the familiar tattoos interrupted by the blood-who was he kidding, it was the blood itself-made something roar in Ichigo's head. He had to take a few calming, stealthy breaths before continuing his inspection.
He'd been right, the bruises did look like shadows on Renji's body. Four marks on his skin that weren't ugly because of the fact Ichigo knew they were bruises, but because it was obvious they weren't meant to be there. They seemed out of place among the striking tattoos, vulgar impressions that someone left there. The pain must have been persistent because Renji was still a bit crouched, and Ichigo could see him flex his muscles tightly. He couldn't tell whether Renji was shaking, though, or whether it was just his own hands.
His attention kept returning to Renji's mouth. The bruise near it still couldn't take away from how stunning his lips looked, especially with… it felt so wrong to think that, but the blood darkened his lips in a way that looked like he'd just been kissed, been bitten. The lax way they opened made the whole thing twice as… appealing. Usually Ichigo had to get Renji to talk to make his lips part like that, but right then Renji must have been tired, or maybe it was the pain, but the reddened flesh was open and waiting and picture perfect.
Ichigo knew that with any more examination his camera would become too heavy and he'd shake, so he focused on the whole picture again and pressed the shutter button. The flash did things to Renji's eyes Ichigo tried so hard not to focus on, and then Renji shut them, looking… relieved. He really needed that picture, didn't he?
Ichigo couldn't resist. He zoomed in a bit and took another picture, this time from Renji's navel to his strong jaw line. The closer look gained him a cleaner shot of the bruises along Renji's ribs which, that way, looked oddly consistent with the tattoos along his collarbones. Without the distraction that Renji's face was, Ichigo was able to appreciate the dim lighting as well, that played on Renji's muscles so that rather than impressions carelessly added on, the bruises looked like pieces missing from Renji's body.
He already knew the title of this one. Violence.
Two for Renji…
He zoomed in once again to capture just Renji's mouth, but the horizontal angle let his neck into the frame as well. His bleeding lip, the bruise extending from his mouth to his jaw, and his stretched neck, sweaty and red from the dried blood and wisps of his hair, fuck. Ichigo thought the only thing that would be missing from that picture was the way Renji's pulse was visibly beating. He pressed the shutter button.
… And one for me.
He put the camera on the table at a safe distance from the icepacks, not bothering to look at the image display screen. He worked out the kinks in his wrists, looking at his hands because he knew he was blushing and he knew that if he looked Renji in the eye he would throw caution to the wind and kiss him. Which wouldn't be so bad, actually-by that point Ichigo was certain it would be worth the punch that would surely follow-but right then he couldn't do anything to agitate Renji's beaten body.
"Well? Do I look half-dead?" Renji asked. His rough voice seemed to soften somehow, which Ichigo recognized meant he was about to doze off.
He got up to his feet. "No." You look like a wild animal that's just had dinner. "I'm gonna get you a blanket." And I still want to kiss you. "If you need anymore ice during the night there's some in the freezer." And I can manage that.
He finally turned to look at Renji, his expression neutral. "Can you get up to wash your face?"
Renji chuckled, and pushed himself off the couch. He seemed shaky at best, but he was on his feet. Ichigo was glad for that. Knowing he'd be turned down anyway, he didn't offer a hand when Renji stumbled over to the bathroom. In the meantime Ichigo went to his closet and pulled out a blanket and a pillowcase, pushing a spare pillow into it. No need to get any more furniture dirty.
He threw both things at the couch, and Renji hadn't come out yet. Was it the pain?
He suddenly remembered. "There's probably some paracetamol in the drawer," he yelled, and then gave it some thought and added, "Don't steal any condoms."
He heard a weak laugh from the bathroom and nodded, pleased. A few more minutes passed, and, without distractions and Renji and heat, Ichigo was starting to realize how tired he was. Damn it, what's taking so long?
He didn't think before walking to his bathroom and opening the door. He should have thought before walking to his bathroom and opening the door.
Sleepiness was forgotten all over again when Ichigo stumbled on the sight of Renji with his face and chest wet, his hair down, his hands on his own stomach, looking at himself in the mirror.
Renji's eyes snapped to Ichigo's reflection, but he didn't say anything, just kept looking at him and running his fingers in circles around where the bruises were. Ichigo's breath hitched in his throat when he felt an unwanted flash of arousal pass through him.
"It doesn't look so bad to me," Ichigo said, hoping it would reassure Renji to a certain degree. Renji nodded, drops of water dripping down his face and glorious back from his wet hair. Ichigo knew that Renji was watching him, but for some reason he couldn't care less, and just stared at his back like fucking always.
It looked even better when it was wet. The muscles seemed particularly spectacular, and Ichigo noticed with some relief that his back was the only place that wasn't sporting a bruise. Like that, his hair almost looked like blood, slick and red, cutting through his tattoos.
Renji made a weird sound, and startled Ichigo out of his analysis so suddenly that he didn't even try to decipher the noise. He looked back into Renji's eyes in the reflection. There was no explanation.
"Go to sleep," he said. Renji nodded, turning around. Ichigo left the room before he could get a chance to admire Renji's chest.
He was relieved to hear Renji's footsteps behind him. The feeling vanished quickly when Renji's wet hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder. Ichigo bit his lip until it hurt, counted to five, and then turned around. Renji was closer than he'd anticipated, and freakishly tall enough so that Ichigo found himself staring at his mouth. Would have happened anyway. There was no blood there anymore, but it was still a bit swollen, a bit reddened. His thoughts of vindictive little nips and kisses came back. So close…
"Thanks, man," Renji said quietly. He squeezed Ichigo's shoulder, his thumb sneaking under the tank Ichigo was wearing. The air around Ichigo became deathly silent, and he kept staring at Renji's lips. The pathetic thing was that he knew looking at his lips would be safer than looking at his eyes, as far as his inhibitions went. The other thing he knew was that he was getting hard, and that it was bad timing, and that his life sucked.
"I wanna-" he started whispering, but was cut off by Renji letting go of his shoulder and walking around him into the living room, brushing past his side as he went. Fuck. Fuck, that was good timing. "Sleep," he finished, making sure to sound annoyed.
He didn't spare a glance at the couch as he climbed to his bed and collapsed on it face first, so he could cover his hard-on in case Renji was looking. Let it go, let it go… He groaned into his pillow.
He heard another groan, but this time it wasn't muffled and it came from Renji. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Renji carefully sitting on the couch, and then lying down on his back. It seemed slow and agonizing, but Renji didn't complain, barring the almost-silent groaning.
Finally, he stopped moving. Ichigo took his cue and turned off the light using the switch behind the headboard. "Night," he heard Renji mutter.
"You too," he said automatically, his mind in a million different places. He was conflicted between the need to make sure Renji wasn't worsening his injuries in any way, wanting Renji to get out of there to avoid temptation, and finally, wanting to walk to the couch and finish what his mind had started. All of those were out of the question, which frustrated him to no end.
Eventually, he went for good thing I don't have class tomorrow.
It took him a while, but finally he drifted off to sleep, wondering if tomorrow Renji's bruises would still be in the pictures he'd taken.
*
'hey, sorry for yesterday'.
'It's cool.'
Renji was as pleased as he could have been, bedridden under Shuuhei's firm instructions. It had been the first time he'd gone to visit the small graves in inner Rukongai without Rukia, and fuck was he grateful she hadn't been there that night. He couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt in that place again. Usually him just standing next to her was enough to ward off any thugs, so he hadn't expected things to go south if he went there alone.
But shit happens, and it hurt and it had just proved to Renji that three runs a day weren't enough, and then it had been over and he'd headed to lower Seireitei instead of the west, and Ichigo… hadn't ask as many questions as Renji had thought he would.
It had been hard to look Ichigo in the eye when he was saying 'I'm weak, help me' just by fucking being there, but when he had Ichigo had been more empathetic than sympathetic. He hadn't asked about it, mostly because it had been hard to stay focused when everything had hurt.
He'd kept waking up every thirty or less minutes because of discomfort and pain, and really, the only time he'd felt any kind of relief had been when Ichigo had agreed to take his picture like that. Renji was willing to contribute the need to have evidence of that night to being completely out of it.
Ichigo had emailed him the pictures in the morning, and Renji texted him back that he was sorry, and he thought they agreed to let the previous night go, even if he was pretty sure he would never forget it.
About two days after that, Shuuhei came home and told him that there was a job opening in one of Kensei's clubs. Renji's dream job was hardly being a part-time bouncer-he knew from experience how douchey they were-but it was a job he was overqualified for, and he'd be making real money, finally. He'd do something with his time.
He told Shuuhei to give him the number. For the moment, he was pleased.
*
Ichigo was not pleased.
Other than the brief texting on the day after Renji's fight, they hadn't brought the issue up. Ichigo knew it meant something, that Renji came there that night and needed help, but fuck if he knew what and fuck if he was going to embarrass himself by asking Renji.
How would that go, anyway? Hey man, so I kinda patched you up like we were married or something, what's up with that? It just sounded stupid, and it was easier to ignore the whole thing.
The only time it was mentioned was when they talked four days later, and Renji asked if he should even come to their session, since his bruises weren't going anywhere. Ichigo said that he didn't have to, frankly because it felt like Renji didn't want to, and Ichigo wouldn't ask him to drive if he was still hurt.
That was the point when he became unpleased, to the point where Professor Zangetsu asked him why he didn't feel inspired, Professor Ukitake offered candy to cheer him up, Yuzu berated him when they talked on the phone, and Urahara just hung up on him.
Three days after that, Ichigo all but forgot the reasons he didn't want Renji there, because he needed him there. He couldn't have missed him; it had only been two weeks since he'd last seen him, and he didn't really care much for him. It was just that he couldn't draw or walk around town taking random pictures without wanting to do those things with Renji, and it was really hard to fulfill his artistic vision when he had only one pressing thought. Which was stupid, kind of. Becoming obsessed with the guy. They texted each other almost daily, but he kind of really wanted to see him with his own eyes.
He waited for another week before he finally caved. Like, dropped-everything-he-was-doing-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-ran-to-the-phone-tearfully caved. Only without the dropping, running and crying parts. But calling Renji after insisting he wouldn't was such a defeat that it felt just as dramatic.
"Yo," Renji said when he picked up the phone. Ichigo immediately noted that the loud noise in the background was not from a TV, and wondered why it felt even shittier to call, now that he got the sense Renji was at a party.
He guessed it was because he didn't want to interrupt Renji's fun. It was good that Renji was out and about. It meant he wasn't that badly injured, which Ichigo had already deducted from his preliminary examination, but whatever. It meant he couldn't exactly say no when Ichigo demanded some of his time too. The time which would have been polite to grant in advance, given that he was out and about, but Ichigo didn't think about that.
"Ichigo?" Renji yelled, throwing Ichigo off for a moment and affirming his party theory.
"Yes, jackass. I want you to come by tomorrow."
"Sure thing, man. Do you have class?" he asked. Easily. Ichigo didn't feel cheated or something.
"In the morning, so you can come around four?"
"I'll let you know when I'm up. Gotta go now." He hung up.
Ichigo was pissed off, and decided that it would be best for the world if he went for a walk right about then. He wasn't sure there was even a reason to be upset, but that never really mattered to him anyway.
When he got back home the world was a better place, and the next day when he got a text from Renji at two p.m. everything was back to normal.
'someone wrote on my hand to txt you but I don't remember much after 3 am'.
Ichigo chuckled, and wrote back quickly, 'You promised to come at 3 AM and bring beer.' It probably wasn't moral, but Ichigo wasn't concerned, especially not when Renji replied, 'fuck me alright', which really could have been taken in any way and amused Ichigo a bit too much.
Renji showed up only slightly late, carrying a Heineken 6-pack, which was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for Ichigo.
He completely forgot about missing Renji when he got an earful about the shithole he lived in, and instead of anything he'd thought about saying during those three weeks, Ichigo ended up yelling, "You know, dumbass, after the millionth time, the fact you can't fucking spot a long street with huge colorful buildings is more telling about you than me."
Renji snarled, and Ichigo took that second to examine his face. He could still detect the pattern of the bruising on his face, but it seemed to have healed nicely. To be perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit relieved.
He didn't really want to take pictures of Renji-the last time was still a bit too fresh for him-and as he fully intended to take advantage of the beers, he knew starting a portrait would be a mistake. Filling his sketchbook like in his original plan seemed perfect.
"Fuck you, okay, I'm fucking quitting tomorrow," Renji finally retorted, turning around to put the beer in the fridge and then picking out two bottles. The fact he knew his way around Ichigo's kitchen was a bit disconcerting, like he had burned everything into his memory after the first time they had hung out there and watched TV.
Ichigo shrugged, because really, nothing about Renji would surprise him anymore. He went to his studio to fish out a sketchbook and some pens and pencils. When he came back to the kitchen both the bottles Renji had been holding were open, and he was drinking from one of them. Two seconds later Renji was drinking from the other bottle, and Ichigo was pretty much ready to stab him with a fountain pen.
He reminded himself that not a minute ago he had decided that nothing would surprise him, and just grabbed the bottle on the counter before Renji could finish them all. Renji's alcohol tolerance was pretty amazing.
"Before you prove yourself to be a total pussy and quit, I'm gonna sketch you for a bit," he said. Renji glared at him while drinking and sitting down on the couch in the living room, which was pretty amazing too. Kind of like his neck.
Shit. It would have been so much easier to be annoyed by Renji's kleptomania if Ichigo didn't like seeing him drink. Renji asked him something, and Ichigo thought he was supposed to answer, but he'd already opened his sketchbook and started working on the outline of Renji's face if only so he could get to the neck. Renji fucked up his artistic process immensely, but Ichigo was slightly thrilled to draw him again after a three week break, so it didn't really matter what he drew first.
Of course, when he paid so much attention to Renji's face, discerning his expressions went a lot quicker. Agitation.
"What?" he finally asked, to which Renji rolled his eyes. Ichigo figured he should probably draw his eyes next, they were pretty nifty too.
"I asked if I'm supposed to look at you while you sketch, because you didn't say we had to go to the studio, so if you're gonna order me in two seconds to look away I might as well turn on-"
"For fuck's sake, you're probably sitting on the remote, if that's what you're getting at." Dumbass.
"Sweet." Renji quirked a smile at him, and Ichigo promptly abandoned the eyes in favor of Renji's thin mouth, smirking at him like that. He was probably getting the proportions so wrong it hurt, but it was a sketch, so he could fix it later.
Renji turned the TV on right when Ichigo finished with the face, so he let himself defocus for a moment. He put the notebook on a kitchen chair and the pen and pencil in his mouth, then grabbed the neck of his beer bottle with one hand and the chair with his other, dragging it to the living room and setting it next to Renji, who was looking at him suspiciously throughout the whole thing. Ichigo was pretty amazing too.
Once he put everything on the table, he sat on the chair and picked up his sketchbook again, resuming the face. Renji was still looking at him oddly, so Ichigo sketched faster, his hand flying on the paper. Usually he left his sketches more abstract and full of lines, but with Renji's tattoos so precise he felt bad not keeping it realistic.
He erased most of the face he had and this time measured proportions with his pencil, lifting it occasionally to check the scale with Renji's face. Renji, who was still looking at him funny.
"Okay, what is it?" he finally asked, still working on the eyes and then nose.
Renji finally looked away. He didn't seem embarrassed-like he thought he'd been staring at Ichigo stealthily before getting caught-or anything, which meant he had wanted Ichigo to call him on it, which was weird. "Nothing."
Ichigo groaned. "Renji, don't be a girl."
When Renji snapped his head at him he looked irritated, and Ichigo fixed the eyes in his sketch to match because Renji looked better when he was pissed off, for some reason. "I was just thinking that it's weird that you're sitting close and drinking beer while you're supposed to draw, because you usually don't do that."
He remembered some comment Renji had made about his observation skills a while back, and was about to throw it back at Renji, when he thought of something that might get a better reaction. "Well, you're not exactly moving away from me, so stop thinking about it. I'm supposed to capture you in your natural state."
A lot of emotions went through Renji at that, Ichigo saw them in his eyes-confusion, hesitation, sudden resolution, and finally back to anger. He muttered, "Asshole," and looked at the TV. A moment later he asked what Ichigo wanted to watch, and Ichigo suddenly realized that it wasn't really Renji, it was their whole relationship that was temperamental.
He stopped thinking about that, totally and completely focused on his work, and then gulped some more of his beer to convince himself of that. He was starting to position Renji's mouth in the sketch when he realized he had to answer the question. "I follow maybe ten crappy anime shows, if you wanna watch those."
Renji laughed, which Ichigo couldn't say he didn't expect. Retarded anime series weren't known for their cool factor, and while Inoue sometimes tried to reassure him about that because she liked them too, Mizuiro repeatedly explained that Ichigo was lame and that he didn't have Inoue's fantastic breasts to cover that fact.
"Totally lame," Renji said, and Ichigo just huffed in annoyance, even if the way Renji said it made him feel less crappy than the way Mizuiro did. Plus, the next thing Renji did was change the channel to Cartoon Network.
"I know it's lame, but my sister's into it so she makes me watch it with her on vacations," he explained.
"You have a sister?" Renji asked, and Ichigo nodded. The next time he looked up from his sketchbook he was surprised to find Renji staring at him like he was expecting him to continue.
"I have two sisters," he started, wondering why Renji would be interested in that all of a sudden. "They're twins, so they're both eighteen now. One of them, Karin, lives in a dorm outside of Karakura, but Yuzu stayed at home and works at my dad's clinic. He owns-"
"I remember," Renji interrupted him. He seemed almost as surprised by the information as Ichigo was, and he saw him cover up his interest with a bland expression. Ichigo kept staring at him, confused, as Renji nodded and looked at the TV.
"So which one of them likes anime?" Renji asked, and Ichigo finally decided to let his own questions go and just answer Renji's.
He went back to sketching. "Yuzu. You know, you should just turn on the DVD, I think you'll like that one."
Renji hummed, and Ichigo heard him move. The familiar theme song started booming through the speakers, and a minute later an anticipated, "Whoa!" from Renji. He couldn't help smirking when Renji added, "They're pirates! With straw hats!" He had a feeling Renji wouldn't be able to resist One Piece either.
It was unexpectedly fascinating to sketch Renji while he was fully absorbed in something. Ichigo was there to stare at him from the moment Renji's interest in the TV had initially flared to the time he seemingly stopped being aware of Ichigo's presence.
Renji let his tight hostile expression go, and Ichigo was on the third sketch by the time he thought he could possibly capture how amazing that was. He knew the purpose of the sketchbook examination was to check his progress, but he liked the idea of using it himself to check Renji's progress. How comfortable he was becoming around Ichigo.
He finished the facial features and started redrawing the shoulders when he noticed that in Renji's occasional fidgeting his polo shirt had started covering the ends of the tattoos Ichigo was gunning for.
"Move the collar of your shirt away," he said, using the short break to finish his second beer bottle.
Renji muttered, "Yeah, sure," and moved kind of distractedly, before his eyes suddenly focused and he froze with his hand on his shirt. After a moment passed and he still hadn't moved, Ichigo frowned and dragged his chair closer to the couch to do it himself, because, what the hell?
Before he could reach out, Renji looked down for a moment, and then finally went through with what Ichigo had told him.
Oh. Ichigo suddenly understood the hesitation. There was a mark on Renji's shoulder, easily identifiable next to the pale bruises-the mark was new, and was a hickey.
But, well, that didn't quite explain the hesitation. It wasn't like Ichigo cared if Renji had sex with people; it had nothing to do with their arrangement. What Ichigo wanted was Renji's time, and okay, maybe to sleep with him a lot, but that shouldn't stop either of them from getting laid. If it were stopping them, it would be seriously lame.
So Renji hesitating meant he'd miscalculated Ichigo's sensitivity, so he should probably scoff or laugh it off or-yeah, that wasn't happening. At least his frown probably went unnoticed, since he made it a point to frown most of the time anyway.
He sat back in his chair, but after dragging it that much closer to the couch he might as well have been sitting on Renji. But it was cool, because Ichigo could focus more on the tattoo, which had been his intention all along.
"Looks like you had fun last night," he said in a light tone, because the silence was too much even with Luffy's yelling.
A small smirk started spreading on Renji's face, like he was relieved enough by Ichigo speaking to calm down. "I'm a bouncer now. Which sucks, but then last night my roommate came to the club I was working at."
Oh, just fuck both of you.
"And gave you a hickey?" Ichigo asked.
"No," Renji said. He didn't look like Ichigo had offended him or something, which he promptly added to the Clues About Renji's Sexual Orientation file in his brain. "He made me go in the club once my shift was over."
He was about to call Renji an idiot because they had talked on the phone, Ichigo knew that, but then he realized Renji didn't remember talking to him. He went with, "Oh," and returned to drawing Renji's mouth.
"It was kinda great, actually," Renji expounded unnecessarily, but they were friends, so he was supposed to talk about sleeping with other people. "I mean, I thought I'd just hang out for a while to let off some steam because being a bouncer sucks, but then I find this room inside-"
"Renji, shut up, you'll ruin the drawing." Which wasn't true, but, well... It was high time Ichigo realized that he felt possessive over more than Renji's time. It was a fucking annoying realization, so Ichigo tried to reassure himself.
It was completely like when he'd done that junior project about light. He'd walked around town at certain hours and taken pictures of windows and the sunlight that had come through them and interesting shadows and shit, and he'd become slightly obsessed and stopped by every window he'd seen to take a picture and interpret it in an artistic or scientific way, and he'd gotten rightfully offended when his windows had suddenly been bought by other people that wanted to sleep with them, which should have been normal because the windows had been incredibly hot and Ichigo hadn't made a move on them because Ichigo hadn't wanted them to turn him down and fuck up his project and possibly his life, and it was all rightful and not disturbing.
Okay, the last part never actually happened, and Ichigo might have been completely insane, and Renji probably knew that already because he didn't seem as annoyed as he should have been by Ichigo yelling at him.
He was still annoyed, though, and started yelling back, "Don't tell me to-"
Ichigo put two fingers on Renji's lips and forced his mouth shut, because other than deducting he was insane, he'd also come to the realization that he really, really didn't want to hear it.
He'd also kind of needed to touch Renji's lips since ever, so that was a plus. They stayed like that for a second, Ichigo crouching forward, the sketchbook uncomfortably jamming into his stomach, but he was touching Renji's lips and they were rough and kind of amazing against his fingers.
The second passed and Renji smacked his hand away, immediately accusing him, "Jesus, you're dim when it comes to personal space," which Ichigo had nothing to say against, other than the fact Renji was observant as fuck.
He regretted nothing.
"Just shut up and watch TV," Ichigo instructed him, raising the sketchbook to cover his face and pretending to work hard.
Renji huffed. "Stop telling me what to do."
"I was told I'm a natural leader." What he really wanted to say was then stop annoying me by getting hickies, but that would make him sound jealous, which he wasn't.
What he really said seemed to work fine. Renji still sounded pissed when he said, "Well I'm saying you yell a lot and you wouldn't be a likeable boss."
"But I am your boss." Ichigo peeked up from his sketchbook with a raised eyebrow.
Renji was glaring intently at the TV, but he was smirking. "And I don't like you. See?"
Ichigo chuckled, because Renji saying that while smiling was the biggest confirmation he could have received that Renji did like him. He became considerably less annoyed all of a sudden, and it seemed like a good place to end that conversation.
So he said, "Want me to draw you with a pirate hat?"
Renji laughed at him, waved his hand and called him a dumbass, but his eyes were twinkling and Ichigo felt like he won some argument they weren't having.
NEXT
Part 4: I Need You To Take A Picture
Born to be down
I've learned all my lessons before now
Born to be down
I think you'll get used to it
(Bound For The Floor, Local H)
Ichigo was getting strangely used to receiving text messages in the middle of the night. Usually Renji just wanted to relate a story or was extremely bored, and Ichigo was always up anyway.
That was why he was surprised to be woken up by the buzzer to his apartment. At first he was sure it had been a dream, but then he heard another buzz that jolted him upright. He glanced at his digital alarm clock on his nightstand. 04:00.
"What the fuck…" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and stumbling out of his bed. He tried not to bump into a table or run into walls on his way to the door, because it was a bit hard to maintain his graceful self after just one hour of sleep.
He looked through the peephole, and unlocked his door quickly when he found Renji standing outside his apartment in the middle of the night. He doubted Renji was drunk and thought it would be a wise idea to visit, or that there was some urgent matter that had to do with him for some reason that couldn't have been resolved in the morning. With those two strikeouts, it meant…
Ichigo felt extremely awake as worry crept in. Something must have been seriously wrong, and he hoped he was equipped to help. He let Renji in quickly, and inspected him at once. Renji wore a gray hoodie that was drawn up so it was covering his right eye, but Ichigo thought he saw a purple patch along his cheek.
At first he thought it was just his sideburn, but then he actually took Renji's face in as a whole, and shit. There were bruises on his right cheek and around the left side of his mouth, an angry purple spreading all the way to his chin. There was blood running down his swollen lower lip.
Ichigo didn't say a word, didn't even think before he reached up and drew Renji's hoodie back. His hunch had been right-Renji had a black eye. "Shit," he whispered.
Renji tried to nod, but with Ichigo's hand still clenching the hoodie, he could feel him shake just because he tried to move. His pupils were dilated and he was breathing hard and Ichigo was worried he was about to collapse. He took Renji's hand carefully, not sure whether it was injured, and pulled him into the living room.
When they got there he lightly pushed Renji into the couch, causing him to grimace as he struggled to sit upright. He snatched his hand away from Ichigo, which made him look at it-oh. All of Renji's knuckles were the same color as the bruises on his face, except for the ones that were bloody. Ichigo's eyes widened, his heart racing.
He practically ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, wetting it under the tap and then rushing back to the couch. He sat down next to Renji and took his hand again, ignoring his hiss of protest. Neither of them spoke a word, but Ichigo's thoughts were running a mile a minute in his head: What's he doing here, what happened, what am I doing, what the hell happened?
He pressed the wet towel to the back of Renji's hand, trying to wipe off the blood and see the actual damage. Renji tried to jerk his hand away, and Ichigo decided to ask the first thing on his mind to keep Renji distracted from the pain. "Where were you?"
Renji huffed, and Ichigo knew he was looking away. He started wondering if Renji was going to answer at all when he finally heard a faint, "I was in Rukongai."
Renji's voice was so gritty it was barely recognizable. He must have been coughing, and given the blood on his lips… Ichigo shook his head. He hadn't actually heard him cough, so he was willing to hope the scratchy voice was from yelling and the blood was from his lip, not his lungs.
As for what he'd said… Everyone knew about Rukongai. It was built on the outskirts of Seireitei and society, it was the big town that was made of distressed neighborhoods, the dangerous place you'd never want your kids to hang out-you name it.
A month back, Renji simply stating he'd grown up orphaned in the slums there had raised a few questions in Ichigo's head, but at the time, they weren't his to ask. Right then, even though Ichigo had heard the stories and knew about horrible things that happened there night and day, Renji just saying he'd been in Rukongai didn't answer what exactly had happened, why he’d shown up at Ichigo's place (they'd only known each other for three months, after all, it didn't make sense that Ichigo was Renji's go-to guy), and how Ichigo could help.
He focused on rubbing Renji's knuckles and fingers clean, wondering if he should clean his face next, only that thought made him think about Renji's face and the way it seemed even fiercer than usual with all the blood-the hard expression and Renji's eyes, alert and dark and dangerous.
He hadn't realized he'd been wiping a clean index finger until Renji said, "Will you stop? It's not my blood."
Ichigo shook his head again, dropping the now dirty towel. It did seem like there were no cuts on Renji's hands, but he knew the blood on his face couldn't have been anyone else's.
"You're telling me to stop worrying?" he snapped, all the thoughts finding their way out in his angry tone. "You crazy fuck, what the hell happened?"
Renji shrugged, looking away from him. Ichigo narrowed his eyes, pulling lightly at Renji's hand. It might not have been bleeding, but Ichigo knew it hurt like a bitch. "Why did you come here?" he asked, dropping his voice lower.
"Your place was the closest," Renji answered, looking down at their hands.
That didn't satisfy Ichigo in the least. "Bullshit. You told me where you lived, moron, and it's closer to Rukongai than this place is."
"I…" Renji started, mumbling. He trailed off and went quiet for a few more moments, making Ichigo believe he wasn't going to reply again. Then he continued. "I didn't want nobody to… see me like this." He finally lifted his head, giving Ichigo a piercing look. "Hell, Ichigo, I don't know why I came here."
"Nobody but me?" Ichigo was a little stunned. So of course he blurted the first thing that came to his mind and called Renji a moron, and then Renji was turning his eyes away again, wrenching his hands free. Ichigo cursed. "Look man, I'm sorry. I'm not saying you shouldn't have come here. The least I can do is get you an icepack and let you crash if you want, it's no problem. I just wanna know what happened."
He threw the towel on the coffee table and looked at Renji's hands until he was satisfied with his work. No cuts meant no infections. He should probably get that icepack, though.
Of course, he crossed his arms and made sure he looked like he wasn't going to move an inch until Renji started explaining. Luckily, Renji must have been too out of it to call his bluff.
"I had shit to do in the… deeper streets." He was silent for a few more moments, and Ichigo remembered what Renji had said about growing up there. Despite hearing the tales, Rukongai's awfulness only really hit Ichigo for the first time when he stared at Renji beaten and bruised.
Renji took a shaky breath and went on. "On my way back I got caught up in a fight with some gang of drunk guys. Two of 'em shoved me from behind before I knew what was going on and I crashed." He looked away again, like it was embarrassing. Like Ichigo didn't get the shit kicked out of him growing up the motherless ginger faggot.
"Did you manage to get up?" Ichigo asked quietly, trying to get Renji's attention back.
"Yeah, but only after they got a few good kicks in." That made Ichigo perk up, a whole set of alarm bells going off in his head. That explains the crouching. I should really check his ribs.
For some reason, it seemed like his instinct for taking care of people-that led him to fucking clean Renji's hands-and all the first aid instilled in him as a kid were shoved to the back of his mind if it meant he could hear Renji talk. He wasn't even sure why it was so important for him to understand, but it was.
Suddenly Renji was smirking, and hell, the menace there was even scarier when there was blood on his lips, let alone when he was sitting that close to Ichigo. "But then I got up," he said, his voice much lower, the intensity in it making Ichigo shiver. "And they went down so hard two of 'em passed out."
"Well obviously, dimwit, they took on a trained bodyguard," Ichigo managed to murmur, but he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. Who could blame him, with the way Renji was looking at him, that dangerous smirk still on his lips. That voice in him that was supposed to tell him to find cover was screaming at him to charge forward.
"You think it was my training?" Renji asked quietly, leaning forward unsteadily. "It's in my blood, Ichigo, what gets me up when I'm kicked down. The instinct to fight tooth and nail for my life. It saved me every time in the streets. The job was just a bonus," he whispered, his voice rough from the fight.
Ichigo was… riveted. He knew that getting to hear all that and digging into Renji's psyche was a rare occasion and maybe it was scary, and maybe he liked it. Liked Renji telling him all those things, liked what they said about him, and liked the thrill that shark-like smirk was raising in him.
He liked it too much. He needed to get up.
"I'll go get that ice. Try not to move, I need to check if you've cracked any ribs. It's bad enough that you walked all the way here, what if you've punctured a lung or something?" Ichigo rushed to the kitchen. It suddenly hit him that his hypothesis could very well be true because Renji was a crazy fuck. Ichigo grabbed the nearest icepack in the freezer and then went back to the couch, scooting as close to Renji as he allowed himself to.
"Take off your shirt," he said without hesitation, hoping that if he sounded confident enough Renji would just do as he was told. It worked.
Ichigo regretted it a moment later, and not because of Renji's hiss of pain or the way the thick fabric clung to his skin with blood, but because even in that state Renji being shirtless affected him.
It wasn't like he didn't see Renji shirtless on a weekly basis, but this time he didn't have a camera or a canvas, and he was in Renji's personal space and he would have to… Suck it up, damn it, you're not fifteen.
"Try to straighten up for a moment," he said, avoiding Renji's eyes for all he was worth. He might not have been fifteen, but he knew what his face heating up meant. Renji did perk up a bit, his breath catching. Ichigo knew it must have hurt, but Renji didn't say a word. He didn't really expect him to complain.
He watched, a bit mesmerized, as Renji's muscles stretched under his sweaty skin, his tribal tattoos somehow more intimidating in the dark. He was still stunning, but Ichigo didn't have time to get absorbed in it because he immediately spotted the bruises from the kicks-darkly colored patches sprouted on usually pale skin.
"I'll need to touch… oh, fuck it," he muttered, already laying a careful hand on Renji's chest. His skin was hot and his muscles clenched under Ichigo's touch, and it made his breath hitch. Focus.
He ran his hand over Renji's ribcage as gently as he could, avoiding the bruises and checking for any displacements. Seven vertebrosternal ribs, three vertebrocostal ribs … Yes, it turned out recalling the anatomy of the human body helped distract him from Renji's abs. Only it really didn't.
"So?" Renji asked, reminding Ichigo just how raspy his voice was and how close they were and how hot his place had suddenly become. Ichigo pulled back instantly, trying to maintain a professional appearance.
"You're good. Put some ice on the bruises if they still hurt, though," he said with authority, handing Renji the colorful icepacks with the giraffes his sister had insisted on him taking to his new place.
"Thanks." Renji took them, his fingers hesitating for a moment on Ichigo's hand, so briefly Ichigo could have imagined it. Then Renji pressed the icepack to the biggest bruise, on the right side of his abdomen. Ichigo was completely unprepared for what happened next; Renji leaned back on the couch with closed eyes and a small gasp, probably because of the cold.
When he opened his eyes again he turned his head to Ichigo, and the smirk died on his bruised lips. His eyes were darker than they'd been when he'd closed them. "Ichigo, I need to ask you to do something for me."
Will it involve kneeling? "Sure," he muttered.
"I want you…" Renji hesitated, closing his eyes again. Please, yes, I'll do it. "I need you to take a picture."
Wait. Ichigo started, wondering if Renji suffered head trauma as well. "Of what?"
Renji looked down at himself. "My body. Like this."
"But… Renji, you know those bruises aren't pretty." Since when did he suggest getting photographed?
Since when did I refuse?
Since Renji decided to bleed on his couch, probably.
"I thought you weren't going for pretty," Renji threw back at him. The smirk was tugging on his lips again. Ichigo wanted to tug on his lips. Which raised the disturbing question, why the fuck do I still want to kiss him even when his lip's bleeding?
He wouldn't let Renji divert the subject. "You're the one asking, it doesn't matter what I'm going for. Answer me."
Renji narrowed his eyes at him, and then cursed, raising the second icepack with his free hand and carefully pressing it to his right eye. It seemed to convince him to answer. "It's the… that was the first fight I got into in that place as an adult. I need to remember it, just like I went there to remember my… my life, in the first place. I don't… Look, I don't really understand it anymore than I understand coming here, but I know I need that so that the pain would mean something."
He looked brutally sincere, and even with all his worry and the need to get Renji washed and better, there was no way Ichigo could have said no.
"Alright then. Do you…" he bit his lip, knowing he was going to regret it. "Do you want me to clean your face first?"
Renji shook his head. "Not yet. Do I look as bad as I feel?"
"I don't think you possess the ability to look bad, Renji," Ichigo said as he got up from the couch and went to his studio, which spared him from seeing Renji's reaction. He took his good autofocus camera from the desk, and it felt unusually cold in his hands after he'd spent a while touching Renji's torso and hands.
He took a moment in the studio to clear his mind. It wasn't as stuffy in there, thanks to the big window, and it was well out of Renji's personal space. It felt safe and familiar in there.
Who the hell wants that?
He stepped out of the studio and went back into the living room, feeling oddly determined to take the best picture he could and portray all that Renji wanted. It was Renji's first requested picture and hell if Ichigo was going to mess it up.
"Dude, you're not passed out, right?" he asked, stopping behind the coffee table in front of the couch. He knelt there, putting the camera in his lap. Renji's eye slowly opened, and he removed the icepack from the side of his face to open the other one as well. Drops from the melted ice were running down Renji's face, over the bruise, his cheekbones, and then just barely touching his lips. Ichigo unconsciously wet his own lips, and busied himself with turning the camera on.
He heard Renji toss the icepack to the coffee table. "Would we have to turn on the light?" Renji asked, and if during his five minutes in the studio Ichigo had somehow forgotten how gruff Renji sounded, well, it only served to cause a jolt to run down his spine.
"I think the flash will do. The bruises look better like shadows on your skin rather than purple marks, anyway." He wasn't sure when his shoptalk became so familiar with Renji's skin. He set the camera up and turned on the high power flash, but hesitated suddenly, for Renji's sake. "Before I do anything, I need to know if you're sure about this. I'm gonna do the best I can if you say yes, but if not… Some marks should just fade, y'know?"
Renji quirked one eyebrow, looking at Ichigo seriously. "You're the only person in my life who's ever spent so much time looking at my tattoos. I think you know I'm not the kinda guy who lets things fade."
He's got a point there. Ichigo sighed. "Here we go."
He looked through the lens. The distance between the couch and where he was kneeling was perfect to capture all of Renji's body, but neither of them was interested in that. He zoomed in carefully.
There. He had Renji from his waist to the top of his ponytail.
Ichigo's throat felt dry all over again as he looked. Renji stared back at the camera, his eyes narrowed and a bit hostile again, like he was getting ready to pounce on Ichigo. He leaned his head on the backrest of the couch so his neck was a bit stretched, making the tattoos painfully obvious, and Ichigo noticed with fascination that some blood had dried there while traveling down from Renji's jaw.
Renji was bloody and beaten and he really didn't possess the ability to look bad. The sight of the familiar tattoos interrupted by the blood-who was he kidding, it was the blood itself-made something roar in Ichigo's head. He had to take a few calming, stealthy breaths before continuing his inspection.
He'd been right, the bruises did look like shadows on Renji's body. Four marks on his skin that weren't ugly because of the fact Ichigo knew they were bruises, but because it was obvious they weren't meant to be there. They seemed out of place among the striking tattoos, vulgar impressions that someone left there. The pain must have been persistent because Renji was still a bit crouched, and Ichigo could see him flex his muscles tightly. He couldn't tell whether Renji was shaking, though, or whether it was just his own hands.
His attention kept returning to Renji's mouth. The bruise near it still couldn't take away from how stunning his lips looked, especially with… it felt so wrong to think that, but the blood darkened his lips in a way that looked like he'd just been kissed, been bitten. The lax way they opened made the whole thing twice as… appealing. Usually Ichigo had to get Renji to talk to make his lips part like that, but right then Renji must have been tired, or maybe it was the pain, but the reddened flesh was open and waiting and picture perfect.
Ichigo knew that with any more examination his camera would become too heavy and he'd shake, so he focused on the whole picture again and pressed the shutter button. The flash did things to Renji's eyes Ichigo tried so hard not to focus on, and then Renji shut them, looking… relieved. He really needed that picture, didn't he?
Ichigo couldn't resist. He zoomed in a bit and took another picture, this time from Renji's navel to his strong jaw line. The closer look gained him a cleaner shot of the bruises along Renji's ribs which, that way, looked oddly consistent with the tattoos along his collarbones. Without the distraction that Renji's face was, Ichigo was able to appreciate the dim lighting as well, that played on Renji's muscles so that rather than impressions carelessly added on, the bruises looked like pieces missing from Renji's body.
He already knew the title of this one. Violence.
Two for Renji…
He zoomed in once again to capture just Renji's mouth, but the horizontal angle let his neck into the frame as well. His bleeding lip, the bruise extending from his mouth to his jaw, and his stretched neck, sweaty and red from the dried blood and wisps of his hair, fuck. Ichigo thought the only thing that would be missing from that picture was the way Renji's pulse was visibly beating. He pressed the shutter button.
… And one for me.
He put the camera on the table at a safe distance from the icepacks, not bothering to look at the image display screen. He worked out the kinks in his wrists, looking at his hands because he knew he was blushing and he knew that if he looked Renji in the eye he would throw caution to the wind and kiss him. Which wouldn't be so bad, actually-by that point Ichigo was certain it would be worth the punch that would surely follow-but right then he couldn't do anything to agitate Renji's beaten body.
"Well? Do I look half-dead?" Renji asked. His rough voice seemed to soften somehow, which Ichigo recognized meant he was about to doze off.
He got up to his feet. "No." You look like a wild animal that's just had dinner. "I'm gonna get you a blanket." And I still want to kiss you. "If you need anymore ice during the night there's some in the freezer." And I can manage that.
He finally turned to look at Renji, his expression neutral. "Can you get up to wash your face?"
Renji chuckled, and pushed himself off the couch. He seemed shaky at best, but he was on his feet. Ichigo was glad for that. Knowing he'd be turned down anyway, he didn't offer a hand when Renji stumbled over to the bathroom. In the meantime Ichigo went to his closet and pulled out a blanket and a pillowcase, pushing a spare pillow into it. No need to get any more furniture dirty.
He threw both things at the couch, and Renji hadn't come out yet. Was it the pain?
He suddenly remembered. "There's probably some paracetamol in the drawer," he yelled, and then gave it some thought and added, "Don't steal any condoms."
He heard a weak laugh from the bathroom and nodded, pleased. A few more minutes passed, and, without distractions and Renji and heat, Ichigo was starting to realize how tired he was. Damn it, what's taking so long?
He didn't think before walking to his bathroom and opening the door. He should have thought before walking to his bathroom and opening the door.
Sleepiness was forgotten all over again when Ichigo stumbled on the sight of Renji with his face and chest wet, his hair down, his hands on his own stomach, looking at himself in the mirror.
Renji's eyes snapped to Ichigo's reflection, but he didn't say anything, just kept looking at him and running his fingers in circles around where the bruises were. Ichigo's breath hitched in his throat when he felt an unwanted flash of arousal pass through him.
"It doesn't look so bad to me," Ichigo said, hoping it would reassure Renji to a certain degree. Renji nodded, drops of water dripping down his face and glorious back from his wet hair. Ichigo knew that Renji was watching him, but for some reason he couldn't care less, and just stared at his back like fucking always.
It looked even better when it was wet. The muscles seemed particularly spectacular, and Ichigo noticed with some relief that his back was the only place that wasn't sporting a bruise. Like that, his hair almost looked like blood, slick and red, cutting through his tattoos.
Renji made a weird sound, and startled Ichigo out of his analysis so suddenly that he didn't even try to decipher the noise. He looked back into Renji's eyes in the reflection. There was no explanation.
"Go to sleep," he said. Renji nodded, turning around. Ichigo left the room before he could get a chance to admire Renji's chest.
He was relieved to hear Renji's footsteps behind him. The feeling vanished quickly when Renji's wet hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder. Ichigo bit his lip until it hurt, counted to five, and then turned around. Renji was closer than he'd anticipated, and freakishly tall enough so that Ichigo found himself staring at his mouth. Would have happened anyway. There was no blood there anymore, but it was still a bit swollen, a bit reddened. His thoughts of vindictive little nips and kisses came back. So close…
"Thanks, man," Renji said quietly. He squeezed Ichigo's shoulder, his thumb sneaking under the tank Ichigo was wearing. The air around Ichigo became deathly silent, and he kept staring at Renji's lips. The pathetic thing was that he knew looking at his lips would be safer than looking at his eyes, as far as his inhibitions went. The other thing he knew was that he was getting hard, and that it was bad timing, and that his life sucked.
"I wanna-" he started whispering, but was cut off by Renji letting go of his shoulder and walking around him into the living room, brushing past his side as he went. Fuck. Fuck, that was good timing. "Sleep," he finished, making sure to sound annoyed.
He didn't spare a glance at the couch as he climbed to his bed and collapsed on it face first, so he could cover his hard-on in case Renji was looking. Let it go, let it go… He groaned into his pillow.
He heard another groan, but this time it wasn't muffled and it came from Renji. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Renji carefully sitting on the couch, and then lying down on his back. It seemed slow and agonizing, but Renji didn't complain, barring the almost-silent groaning.
Finally, he stopped moving. Ichigo took his cue and turned off the light using the switch behind the headboard. "Night," he heard Renji mutter.
"You too," he said automatically, his mind in a million different places. He was conflicted between the need to make sure Renji wasn't worsening his injuries in any way, wanting Renji to get out of there to avoid temptation, and finally, wanting to walk to the couch and finish what his mind had started. All of those were out of the question, which frustrated him to no end.
Eventually, he went for good thing I don't have class tomorrow.
It took him a while, but finally he drifted off to sleep, wondering if tomorrow Renji's bruises would still be in the pictures he'd taken.
*
'hey, sorry for yesterday'.
'It's cool.'
Renji was as pleased as he could have been, bedridden under Shuuhei's firm instructions. It had been the first time he'd gone to visit the small graves in inner Rukongai without Rukia, and fuck was he grateful she hadn't been there that night. He couldn't stand the thought of her getting hurt in that place again. Usually him just standing next to her was enough to ward off any thugs, so he hadn't expected things to go south if he went there alone.
But shit happens, and it hurt and it had just proved to Renji that three runs a day weren't enough, and then it had been over and he'd headed to lower Seireitei instead of the west, and Ichigo… hadn't ask as many questions as Renji had thought he would.
It had been hard to look Ichigo in the eye when he was saying 'I'm weak, help me' just by fucking being there, but when he had Ichigo had been more empathetic than sympathetic. He hadn't asked about it, mostly because it had been hard to stay focused when everything had hurt.
He'd kept waking up every thirty or less minutes because of discomfort and pain, and really, the only time he'd felt any kind of relief had been when Ichigo had agreed to take his picture like that. Renji was willing to contribute the need to have evidence of that night to being completely out of it.
Ichigo had emailed him the pictures in the morning, and Renji texted him back that he was sorry, and he thought they agreed to let the previous night go, even if he was pretty sure he would never forget it.
About two days after that, Shuuhei came home and told him that there was a job opening in one of Kensei's clubs. Renji's dream job was hardly being a part-time bouncer-he knew from experience how douchey they were-but it was a job he was overqualified for, and he'd be making real money, finally. He'd do something with his time.
He told Shuuhei to give him the number. For the moment, he was pleased.
*
Ichigo was not pleased.
Other than the brief texting on the day after Renji's fight, they hadn't brought the issue up. Ichigo knew it meant something, that Renji came there that night and needed help, but fuck if he knew what and fuck if he was going to embarrass himself by asking Renji.
How would that go, anyway? Hey man, so I kinda patched you up like we were married or something, what's up with that? It just sounded stupid, and it was easier to ignore the whole thing.
The only time it was mentioned was when they talked four days later, and Renji asked if he should even come to their session, since his bruises weren't going anywhere. Ichigo said that he didn't have to, frankly because it felt like Renji didn't want to, and Ichigo wouldn't ask him to drive if he was still hurt.
That was the point when he became unpleased, to the point where Professor Zangetsu asked him why he didn't feel inspired, Professor Ukitake offered candy to cheer him up, Yuzu berated him when they talked on the phone, and Urahara just hung up on him.
Three days after that, Ichigo all but forgot the reasons he didn't want Renji there, because he needed him there. He couldn't have missed him; it had only been two weeks since he'd last seen him, and he didn't really care much for him. It was just that he couldn't draw or walk around town taking random pictures without wanting to do those things with Renji, and it was really hard to fulfill his artistic vision when he had only one pressing thought. Which was stupid, kind of. Becoming obsessed with the guy. They texted each other almost daily, but he kind of really wanted to see him with his own eyes.
He waited for another week before he finally caved. Like, dropped-everything-he-was-doing-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-ran-to-the-phone-tearfully caved. Only without the dropping, running and crying parts. But calling Renji after insisting he wouldn't was such a defeat that it felt just as dramatic.
"Yo," Renji said when he picked up the phone. Ichigo immediately noted that the loud noise in the background was not from a TV, and wondered why it felt even shittier to call, now that he got the sense Renji was at a party.
He guessed it was because he didn't want to interrupt Renji's fun. It was good that Renji was out and about. It meant he wasn't that badly injured, which Ichigo had already deducted from his preliminary examination, but whatever. It meant he couldn't exactly say no when Ichigo demanded some of his time too. The time which would have been polite to grant in advance, given that he was out and about, but Ichigo didn't think about that.
"Ichigo?" Renji yelled, throwing Ichigo off for a moment and affirming his party theory.
"Yes, jackass. I want you to come by tomorrow."
"Sure thing, man. Do you have class?" he asked. Easily. Ichigo didn't feel cheated or something.
"In the morning, so you can come around four?"
"I'll let you know when I'm up. Gotta go now." He hung up.
Ichigo was pissed off, and decided that it would be best for the world if he went for a walk right about then. He wasn't sure there was even a reason to be upset, but that never really mattered to him anyway.
When he got back home the world was a better place, and the next day when he got a text from Renji at two p.m. everything was back to normal.
'someone wrote on my hand to txt you but I don't remember much after 3 am'.
Ichigo chuckled, and wrote back quickly, 'You promised to come at 3 AM and bring beer.' It probably wasn't moral, but Ichigo wasn't concerned, especially not when Renji replied, 'fuck me alright', which really could have been taken in any way and amused Ichigo a bit too much.
Renji showed up only slightly late, carrying a Heineken 6-pack, which was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for Ichigo.
He completely forgot about missing Renji when he got an earful about the shithole he lived in, and instead of anything he'd thought about saying during those three weeks, Ichigo ended up yelling, "You know, dumbass, after the millionth time, the fact you can't fucking spot a long street with huge colorful buildings is more telling about you than me."
Renji snarled, and Ichigo took that second to examine his face. He could still detect the pattern of the bruising on his face, but it seemed to have healed nicely. To be perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit relieved.
He didn't really want to take pictures of Renji-the last time was still a bit too fresh for him-and as he fully intended to take advantage of the beers, he knew starting a portrait would be a mistake. Filling his sketchbook like in his original plan seemed perfect.
"Fuck you, okay, I'm fucking quitting tomorrow," Renji finally retorted, turning around to put the beer in the fridge and then picking out two bottles. The fact he knew his way around Ichigo's kitchen was a bit disconcerting, like he had burned everything into his memory after the first time they had hung out there and watched TV.
Ichigo shrugged, because really, nothing about Renji would surprise him anymore. He went to his studio to fish out a sketchbook and some pens and pencils. When he came back to the kitchen both the bottles Renji had been holding were open, and he was drinking from one of them. Two seconds later Renji was drinking from the other bottle, and Ichigo was pretty much ready to stab him with a fountain pen.
He reminded himself that not a minute ago he had decided that nothing would surprise him, and just grabbed the bottle on the counter before Renji could finish them all. Renji's alcohol tolerance was pretty amazing.
"Before you prove yourself to be a total pussy and quit, I'm gonna sketch you for a bit," he said. Renji glared at him while drinking and sitting down on the couch in the living room, which was pretty amazing too. Kind of like his neck.
Shit. It would have been so much easier to be annoyed by Renji's kleptomania if Ichigo didn't like seeing him drink. Renji asked him something, and Ichigo thought he was supposed to answer, but he'd already opened his sketchbook and started working on the outline of Renji's face if only so he could get to the neck. Renji fucked up his artistic process immensely, but Ichigo was slightly thrilled to draw him again after a three week break, so it didn't really matter what he drew first.
Of course, when he paid so much attention to Renji's face, discerning his expressions went a lot quicker. Agitation.
"What?" he finally asked, to which Renji rolled his eyes. Ichigo figured he should probably draw his eyes next, they were pretty nifty too.
"I asked if I'm supposed to look at you while you sketch, because you didn't say we had to go to the studio, so if you're gonna order me in two seconds to look away I might as well turn on-"
"For fuck's sake, you're probably sitting on the remote, if that's what you're getting at." Dumbass.
"Sweet." Renji quirked a smile at him, and Ichigo promptly abandoned the eyes in favor of Renji's thin mouth, smirking at him like that. He was probably getting the proportions so wrong it hurt, but it was a sketch, so he could fix it later.
Renji turned the TV on right when Ichigo finished with the face, so he let himself defocus for a moment. He put the notebook on a kitchen chair and the pen and pencil in his mouth, then grabbed the neck of his beer bottle with one hand and the chair with his other, dragging it to the living room and setting it next to Renji, who was looking at him suspiciously throughout the whole thing. Ichigo was pretty amazing too.
Once he put everything on the table, he sat on the chair and picked up his sketchbook again, resuming the face. Renji was still looking at him oddly, so Ichigo sketched faster, his hand flying on the paper. Usually he left his sketches more abstract and full of lines, but with Renji's tattoos so precise he felt bad not keeping it realistic.
He erased most of the face he had and this time measured proportions with his pencil, lifting it occasionally to check the scale with Renji's face. Renji, who was still looking at him funny.
"Okay, what is it?" he finally asked, still working on the eyes and then nose.
Renji finally looked away. He didn't seem embarrassed-like he thought he'd been staring at Ichigo stealthily before getting caught-or anything, which meant he had wanted Ichigo to call him on it, which was weird. "Nothing."
Ichigo groaned. "Renji, don't be a girl."
When Renji snapped his head at him he looked irritated, and Ichigo fixed the eyes in his sketch to match because Renji looked better when he was pissed off, for some reason. "I was just thinking that it's weird that you're sitting close and drinking beer while you're supposed to draw, because you usually don't do that."
He remembered some comment Renji had made about his observation skills a while back, and was about to throw it back at Renji, when he thought of something that might get a better reaction. "Well, you're not exactly moving away from me, so stop thinking about it. I'm supposed to capture you in your natural state."
A lot of emotions went through Renji at that, Ichigo saw them in his eyes-confusion, hesitation, sudden resolution, and finally back to anger. He muttered, "Asshole," and looked at the TV. A moment later he asked what Ichigo wanted to watch, and Ichigo suddenly realized that it wasn't really Renji, it was their whole relationship that was temperamental.
He stopped thinking about that, totally and completely focused on his work, and then gulped some more of his beer to convince himself of that. He was starting to position Renji's mouth in the sketch when he realized he had to answer the question. "I follow maybe ten crappy anime shows, if you wanna watch those."
Renji laughed, which Ichigo couldn't say he didn't expect. Retarded anime series weren't known for their cool factor, and while Inoue sometimes tried to reassure him about that because she liked them too, Mizuiro repeatedly explained that Ichigo was lame and that he didn't have Inoue's fantastic breasts to cover that fact.
"Totally lame," Renji said, and Ichigo just huffed in annoyance, even if the way Renji said it made him feel less crappy than the way Mizuiro did. Plus, the next thing Renji did was change the channel to Cartoon Network.
"I know it's lame, but my sister's into it so she makes me watch it with her on vacations," he explained.
"You have a sister?" Renji asked, and Ichigo nodded. The next time he looked up from his sketchbook he was surprised to find Renji staring at him like he was expecting him to continue.
"I have two sisters," he started, wondering why Renji would be interested in that all of a sudden. "They're twins, so they're both eighteen now. One of them, Karin, lives in a dorm outside of Karakura, but Yuzu stayed at home and works at my dad's clinic. He owns-"
"I remember," Renji interrupted him. He seemed almost as surprised by the information as Ichigo was, and he saw him cover up his interest with a bland expression. Ichigo kept staring at him, confused, as Renji nodded and looked at the TV.
"So which one of them likes anime?" Renji asked, and Ichigo finally decided to let his own questions go and just answer Renji's.
He went back to sketching. "Yuzu. You know, you should just turn on the DVD, I think you'll like that one."
Renji hummed, and Ichigo heard him move. The familiar theme song started booming through the speakers, and a minute later an anticipated, "Whoa!" from Renji. He couldn't help smirking when Renji added, "They're pirates! With straw hats!" He had a feeling Renji wouldn't be able to resist One Piece either.
It was unexpectedly fascinating to sketch Renji while he was fully absorbed in something. Ichigo was there to stare at him from the moment Renji's interest in the TV had initially flared to the time he seemingly stopped being aware of Ichigo's presence.
Renji let his tight hostile expression go, and Ichigo was on the third sketch by the time he thought he could possibly capture how amazing that was. He knew the purpose of the sketchbook examination was to check his progress, but he liked the idea of using it himself to check Renji's progress. How comfortable he was becoming around Ichigo.
He finished the facial features and started redrawing the shoulders when he noticed that in Renji's occasional fidgeting his polo shirt had started covering the ends of the tattoos Ichigo was gunning for.
"Move the collar of your shirt away," he said, using the short break to finish his second beer bottle.
Renji muttered, "Yeah, sure," and moved kind of distractedly, before his eyes suddenly focused and he froze with his hand on his shirt. After a moment passed and he still hadn't moved, Ichigo frowned and dragged his chair closer to the couch to do it himself, because, what the hell?
Before he could reach out, Renji looked down for a moment, and then finally went through with what Ichigo had told him.
Oh. Ichigo suddenly understood the hesitation. There was a mark on Renji's shoulder, easily identifiable next to the pale bruises-the mark was new, and was a hickey.
But, well, that didn't quite explain the hesitation. It wasn't like Ichigo cared if Renji had sex with people; it had nothing to do with their arrangement. What Ichigo wanted was Renji's time, and okay, maybe to sleep with him a lot, but that shouldn't stop either of them from getting laid. If it were stopping them, it would be seriously lame.
So Renji hesitating meant he'd miscalculated Ichigo's sensitivity, so he should probably scoff or laugh it off or-yeah, that wasn't happening. At least his frown probably went unnoticed, since he made it a point to frown most of the time anyway.
He sat back in his chair, but after dragging it that much closer to the couch he might as well have been sitting on Renji. But it was cool, because Ichigo could focus more on the tattoo, which had been his intention all along.
"Looks like you had fun last night," he said in a light tone, because the silence was too much even with Luffy's yelling.
A small smirk started spreading on Renji's face, like he was relieved enough by Ichigo speaking to calm down. "I'm a bouncer now. Which sucks, but then last night my roommate came to the club I was working at."
Oh, just fuck both of you.
"And gave you a hickey?" Ichigo asked.
"No," Renji said. He didn't look like Ichigo had offended him or something, which he promptly added to the Clues About Renji's Sexual Orientation file in his brain. "He made me go in the club once my shift was over."
He was about to call Renji an idiot because they had talked on the phone, Ichigo knew that, but then he realized Renji didn't remember talking to him. He went with, "Oh," and returned to drawing Renji's mouth.
"It was kinda great, actually," Renji expounded unnecessarily, but they were friends, so he was supposed to talk about sleeping with other people. "I mean, I thought I'd just hang out for a while to let off some steam because being a bouncer sucks, but then I find this room inside-"
"Renji, shut up, you'll ruin the drawing." Which wasn't true, but, well... It was high time Ichigo realized that he felt possessive over more than Renji's time. It was a fucking annoying realization, so Ichigo tried to reassure himself.
It was completely like when he'd done that junior project about light. He'd walked around town at certain hours and taken pictures of windows and the sunlight that had come through them and interesting shadows and shit, and he'd become slightly obsessed and stopped by every window he'd seen to take a picture and interpret it in an artistic or scientific way, and he'd gotten rightfully offended when his windows had suddenly been bought by other people that wanted to sleep with them, which should have been normal because the windows had been incredibly hot and Ichigo hadn't made a move on them because Ichigo hadn't wanted them to turn him down and fuck up his project and possibly his life, and it was all rightful and not disturbing.
Okay, the last part never actually happened, and Ichigo might have been completely insane, and Renji probably knew that already because he didn't seem as annoyed as he should have been by Ichigo yelling at him.
He was still annoyed, though, and started yelling back, "Don't tell me to-"
Ichigo put two fingers on Renji's lips and forced his mouth shut, because other than deducting he was insane, he'd also come to the realization that he really, really didn't want to hear it.
He'd also kind of needed to touch Renji's lips since ever, so that was a plus. They stayed like that for a second, Ichigo crouching forward, the sketchbook uncomfortably jamming into his stomach, but he was touching Renji's lips and they were rough and kind of amazing against his fingers.
The second passed and Renji smacked his hand away, immediately accusing him, "Jesus, you're dim when it comes to personal space," which Ichigo had nothing to say against, other than the fact Renji was observant as fuck.
He regretted nothing.
"Just shut up and watch TV," Ichigo instructed him, raising the sketchbook to cover his face and pretending to work hard.
Renji huffed. "Stop telling me what to do."
"I was told I'm a natural leader." What he really wanted to say was then stop annoying me by getting hickies, but that would make him sound jealous, which he wasn't.
What he really said seemed to work fine. Renji still sounded pissed when he said, "Well I'm saying you yell a lot and you wouldn't be a likeable boss."
"But I am your boss." Ichigo peeked up from his sketchbook with a raised eyebrow.
Renji was glaring intently at the TV, but he was smirking. "And I don't like you. See?"
Ichigo chuckled, because Renji saying that while smiling was the biggest confirmation he could have received that Renji did like him. He became considerably less annoyed all of a sudden, and it seemed like a good place to end that conversation.
So he said, "Want me to draw you with a pirate hat?"
Renji laughed at him, waved his hand and called him a dumbass, but his eyes were twinkling and Ichigo felt like he won some argument they weren't having.
NEXT