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Whisper To Me	By : Strailo Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 9092 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, Kuroshitsuji or any of the characters. their respective owners do. I make absolutely no money from this or any fanfiction I write.

Chapter List
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The scent of paint hung in the air, filling his nose before a new breeze fluttered through the windows that he had opened for the breeze that was blowing through England for the last two weeks. Ciel had told him that winter was on its way and they had gone out for winter clothes.
He was anticipating the winter break that was to come next week, his current painting before him his semester final for his art class along with a few other pieces in various styles that were all a part of a series. The painting that he was copying in a smaller degree for the series was sitting on its own easel as he sat on a padded bar stool, eyes trained on it.
He was still shocked just how much things had changed in such a short time. Ichigo had lived with the two demons for nearly eleven months but in that time he had gone from hurting and mourning to somewhat happy and very content with how life was going for him. He had made a friend in Lizzy, as he called her to both of their amusements, and a friend in Grell. The fact that both Lizzy and Ichigo considered him more than a little touched in the head notwithstanding. He had joined a school that catered to his skills but helped them to grow and helped him to learn new skills.
It was even better to him then the school that he had gone to in Japan, being more open but still expecting the best that he could do to come from him.
Swishing his brush in the water next to him, Ichigo stood up and grabbed the washed out yogurt container, moving to the industrial sink, and rinsing out the dirty water. He gently cleaned his brushes, treating those that he wasn’t going to be using any more that session and drying the others with soft towels. His mind wasn’t truly on the movements, instead working out what how he was going to shade and create depth to the painting that he was working on.
Turning to the almost done creation, he compared the painting of Ciel’s mother to the one that he was creating before nodding his head. It was coming along perfectly; his painting softer and in a more realistic style then the one painted oh so long ago, but he had no doubt that his demonic guardian would enjoy the painting. The rest of his collection were two statues of Ciel and Sebastian; pictures of William, Ciel, Sebastian, Grell and Undertaker in male clothing of the Victorian ages while Elizabeth had been in women’s; three paintings, one of Ciel’s father, one of Madam Red as they called her, and one of Elizabeth. He still had sketches of the various people that Ciel had known during that time along with a few more small statues and paintings.
He was glad that he had such a long time to actually finish the entire selection but nervous about the show that all the students joined in at the end of each year.
Shaking his head free of the thoughts that had slipped in, Ichigo refilled his water holder and moved to perch on his stool once more. Plucking up the right brush, he smiled softly at it and chuckled, remembering when his father had given it to him. It was their last Christmas together, a time that he now cherished no matter how annoying his father had been on that day, and Isshin had pulled out one last box, a surprise gift.
It had been the very set that he had been scrimping to save for but had to spend it all on replacing his new uniform since they had been on a lean week for money. Isshin had seen how sad his child had been at having to wait for another six months, at least to get his paint set and gone out and bought the set. Even with his father paying him back, Ichigo had found himself having to wait to buy the set himself since they had run out of them.
To say that Ichigo had been happy was saying that a kitten was nice looking. It was an understatement and Isshin had sworn that two of his ribs had cracked with how hard his child had hugged him.
He still used the set seeing as they were well made and created for the purpose of adding shading and depth to a picture, only three of the twelve actually meant to be used to create the strokes that created that first layer. Setting his treated brushes down into the new case that Ciel had gotten him as a surprise for his first report card, as childish as it sounded, he went back to work. He dipped a brush in a darker shade of the blue that he had painted the dress worn by his subject in.
Very carefully starting the next layer, he peeked up at the original painting before continuing on with his painting, mind blissfully blank for a short time. He cleaned the brush that he had used and plucked a thinner brush from his collection, dipping it into the blue paint.
Once he finished with the last layer, he cleaned his brushes and treated them before putting them away and allowing the paint to dry slowly. He sat on his stool once more and picked up his lidded cup, pulling some of the juice within it up through the straw as he stared at it.
“One day I will paint them,” he hummed softly, eyes flicking to the pictures that decorated one wall of his art studio. They were the pictures that had, at one time, been on the walls and mantel and shelves of his family’s home, the very home that was now locked up and watched over by Sado for him. “Someday I will be able to do so without breaking down,” he huffed, shaking his head with a smile on his lips before standing up and cleaning off his hands.
Closing everything up, except for one window that he made sure nothing would be able to get past the screen and rather slim opening, he walked back into the main house. He passed the study, where he could hear the clack of a keyboard coming from inside, telling him that Ciel was hard at work creating something or another, or planning on doing something. Heading up the stairs, he smiled to the shy little maid who came in once a week with her fellow cleaners to clean the mansion and headed for his room, giving the maid who kept trying to break into his room a dark glare.
Once he had locked himself in his room once more, he sighed and made a note to tell Sebastian about the maid that couldn’t seem to stop herself from trying to get into his room. Shaking his head and clearing the thoughts from it, he walked over to his bed and sat down, reaching under and pulling out the clear box from under it and opened it. He pulled out a photo album and his sketch book, opening both with a sigh.
Stroking over the pictures of his sisters, still so clearly remembering their laughter and joy, he smiled softly, wondering just when the bite of hurt had dulled to something more bittersweet, shaking his head with a sigh. He moved past those pictures, pausing on a few of his father that had him in it too, pausing only long enough to stare for a few moments at the man that had raised him for so long before moving on to the ones of his friends.
He smiled at the fact that he still spoke with Sado, Mizurio, Keigo, Tatsuki and surprisingly enough Orihime, sharing letters, pictures and e-mails with all of them. Ichigo snorted and made a note to spend a bit of his allowance from the trust fund that he had from his family’s estate to buy a good phone with long distance to call them and actually talk with them. It would be nice to hear their voices on a good line and not have to worry about Grell listening in on them.
Chuckling, Ichigo slid out a new picture of Orihime and picked a new piece of paper in his sketch book before hunting down his eraser and sketch pencil before settling in with a hum of delight. He had promised Sado a picture of everyone drawn by him and sent in time for Christmas. Said picture had already been planned out but he wanted to practice their faces before he actually drew it and colored it.
Soon he had several pages filled with sketches of various friends scattered around him and the real drawing well on its way to being ready to ink and color before he framed it and sent it on its way. He wondered if he could start doing commissions during the summer time when he wasn’t so busy with school works.
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Whisper To Me