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Romance and Rivalries	By : Kinnikuman Category: Bleach > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2658 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither author owns or holds any rights to "Bleach". No profit is made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 25
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- 27
Chapter Twenty-Six
by Ray
“Yoruichi-sama, I am beginning to feel this sort of behaviour is making it very difficult for me to carry out my duties.”
For a very long time Soi Fon had been thinking about saying that; she’d think it at the most relevant of moments, but in the end her respect and adoration for Yoruichi-sama would always overcome her need to voice her opinion. Tonight had been an utter sham, Yoruichi-sama heard Sosuke Aizen was hosting a party and decided it would be neighbourly to just ‘drop by’. Despite Soi Fon’s overall disapprovement of this ‘adventure’ in the first place, Yoruichi-sama had proceeded to pick out outfits for both of them and have them arrive with Byakuya Kuchiki and his family.
She had never liked Kisuke… he was a lazy, irritating fool – barely worthy of Yoruichi-sama’s recognition… but even she would admit Sosuke Aizen’s actions towards him years ago were palpably wrong. It was one of the cruel facts of life; you could spend your whole life working for the top, to get there and have it all taken away in moments. It was the random chaos of the world that made Soi Fon almost grateful she was just a servant. Perhaps it was partly the reason she’d never openly voiced her love for Yoruichi-sama, if the older woman accepted her they would get together… what if it ended badly? What if Yoruichi-sama met someone better? She wasn’t sure she’d be able to move on with herself, particularly when her life revolved around her job…
The last few weeks had not exactly been the pinnacle of her career… Ômaeda, despite coming from a rich family, had worked in security throughout his twenties and had been promoted onto Yoruichi-sama’s staff. He was a spoilt little rich boy, notoriously lazy, great with technology (his only plus on a long list on minuses) in a way Soi Fon just wasn’t, and immensely disgusting. She knew he’d installed camera somewhere in Yoruichi’s bathroom but wasn’t quite able to locate them yet; naturally Soi Fon worked around this by steaming up the room before Yoruichi-sama was due for a shower and covering the most likely areas for these mystery cameras with towels or soap bags.
Her last few weeks of work had revolved around training him… which was by no means a quick and efficient way to enjoy your day. He liked driving Yoruichi-sama around in her limo, he liked eating food at social events, he liked to make stupid observations and brag to various people about his position of power. He frequently whined that he deserved a gun – like Soi Fon. She had a rather favourite way of answering each and every one of his stupid questions; a short ‘No’, or an arrogant speech about her personal martial arts of fire arms training and how Ômaeda lacked all of that.
After a stressful few weeks, Ômaeda’s training was complete and Soi Fon wanted to spend a relaxing night in with Yoruichi-sama. It was rare she longed for relaxation, but tonight had been one of those times. This was quickly shattered when Yoruichi returned from her closet, holding two evening gowns, declaring, “We’re going to Sosuke Aizen’s party, Soi Fon. What are you doing, get dressed!”
So here she stood, in a childish yellow dress, wishing she’d had the ability to explain her frustration over training that oaf, her dislike for Sosuke Aizen and furthermore, the fact that this dress was so childish and inappropriate. Sure enough, she’d have to trust Yoruichi-sama’s judgement, as she did for all things… but it couldn’t be so terribly awful to voice your own opinion sometimes?
The two of them were stood in the lobby, having a stiff haired servant take their coats, whilst Byakuya Kuchiki finished his cell phone call. Rukia-san was of a similar height to Soi Fon, stood beside her, wearing a pretty blue dress – something appropriate for a young woman from a noble family, something not too womanly but not at all childish. It made Soi Fon feel as though she was one of those creepy older women who dress as young girls for reasons Freud could give in great detail. The young man with them, Hanataro Yamada who seemed very shy, was stood beside Rukia-san, looking incredibly embarrassed and a little in awe of the expensive decour of the mansion. Yoruchi-sama was chatting to the door-man of the party, asking who else was attending the party, telling him about her trip to Kyoto when Soi Fon had just come out with it there – but she’d not just said it, she sorted of yelled it at her.
“Yoruichi-sama, I am beginning to feel this sort of behaviour is making it very difficult for me to carry out my duties.”
After she’d spoken, Soi Fon realized what a stupid thing it was to say – especially out of the blue like that… What was she – a fool? Her cheeks coloured up, Byakuya Kuchiki had finished his phone call and was looking at her strangely, Rukia-san and Hanataro Yamada had looked over at her in obvious surprise. The door-man looked confused, Yoruichi-sama was staring at her too, she looked confused. There was a moment of awkward silence, before she felt the servant tugging at her coat.
“Excuse me, miss, I’ll need to take that.”
“No, I’d much rather keep it on,” she insisted, not at all liking being touched by some strange old woman. Furthermore, how on earth was she meant to have any weaponry in the dress she was wearing? She was wearing a gun holster on her thigh, which was very uncomfortable, it kept snagging on the material of the ugly dress, and she also had a pocket taser in her bra. In her coat she had the means to call reinforcements and an extendable blade. She had intended to bring a small handbag, but Yoruichi-sama had taken it saying all they would need was a cell phone, which she would keep on her person. How was she meant to call reinforcements or protect Yoruichi-sama with an extendable blade if this demented old woman took her coat?
Yoruichi-sama took her arm, “Excuse me, Byakuya, Rukia-chan, Hanataro-kun, we’ll be two moments,” she smiled charmingly at the old woman, “Would you mind pointing us towards a rest room?”
After that they were led to a large downstairs bathroom with what appeared to be a white marble floor. White was a running theme throughout Sosuke Aizen’s home… so it appeared. Yoruichi-sama locked the door and stood there with her arms folded, “What’s going on, Soi Fon? This isn’t like you.”
All at once she swallowed her pride and looked embarrassedly at the floor, “I’m sorry, Yoruichi-sama, I don’t know what came over me.”
“Yes you do,” she said instantly. “Come on, you used to do this as a child. You’ve made a lot of improvements since then, so tell me what’s wrong.” Her tone was soft, Yoruichi-sama was always so capable of saying the perfect things… often it was wasted on someone as proud of Soi Fon – no matter how kind and understanding Yoruichi-sama would seem, any sort of formality towards her seemed so disrespectful to one of the Fon clan.
Soi Fon shuffled her feet, something she did incredibly rarely and the likes of Yoruichi-sama and her father were the only ones to have witnessed. She took a little breath, “I apologize… I-I… It’s just, I want to be able to carry out my job properly and protect you to the best of my ability! I find it very difficult to do that… in these sorts of clothes.” It was honest, it sounded horribly rude, but at least it was an honest answer – no warrior could fight in something so stiff – so frilly…
Yoruichi-sama wasn’t saying anything, which normally meant she wanted her to continue.
“It’s very frustrating for me, m’am… Protecting you is everything to me. If anything happened to you because of my incompetence..” she cleared her throat, her hands knotting together behind her back, “I don’t know what I’d do. I’m worried and edgy and frustrated over training that incompetent fool…”
He was worse than an incompetent fool. After she’d made him run 300 laps (he’d dropped like a stone at 200, which she thought was good for him) Ômaeda thought it would be a good idea to try and blackmail her – the head of security – into giving him less work. The fat lump attempted to force what appeared to be 6,722 yen into her hand. Disgraceful…
Soi Fon decided now was a good time to demand he took down the camera in Yoruichi-sama’s bathroom. He went a funny shade of pink, like any spoilt little rich boy, he assumed he would be able to talk his way out of this. Ômaeda drew himself to his full height and said, raising his hands defensively, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Taichou. But… perhaps you’d make my training a little less harsh if I was to give you a copy of whatever footage these cameras pick up?”
Admittedly, that was where she’d faltered in her verbal assault, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh come on,” he sounded exasperated, “Like you wouldn’t want a video of Yoruichi-sama naked!”
Naturally, that was too much for Soi Fon. She would tell Yoruichi-sama how she felt in due time – when she was ready! How dare anyone notice how she felt! It was private, personal – furthermore, a warrior’s true feelings are meant to stay close to their heart where nobody can see them! How dare that pathetic fool think he can talk to her – much less bribe her with matters of the heart!
Yes, yes, Ômaeda would find himself trapped under walls of paperwork whilst being watched by members of Soi Fon’s personal SWAT team. She’d had him clean out the horses, with dinner (which consisted of old stale rice crackers and celery) bought to him at the designated meal times. That fool – that scum bag – that…!
She was taken from her thoughts when she felt Yoruichi-sama’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Soi Fon looked up into her face, going pink as the older woman stood closer.
“Soi Fon, this is a party. Nobody is going to attack me here. You worry so much, I trust you with my life. But you worry so much, you’re a young woman. I insisted on us coming, partly because you never relax. I wanted us to go out and have fun and a high class dinner party would be the best way to introduce you to that,” she paused, laughing gently, “I guess you’re more uptight than I thought,” Yoruichi-sama raised a hand and ruffled her hair affectionately, “I am sorry for upsetting you.”
“No, m’am! You couldn’t upset me,” Soi Fon spoke out, her face going an even more embarrassing shade of crimson, “I just…” she smiled gently, looking up at her, “I’m sorry too. I’ll try my best to enjoy the party, Yoruichi-sama. I apologize for making a scene – I”
Yoruichi-sama shook her head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she led her out of the bathroom, “Not to worry, stop your apologizing. Let’s just go and make the best of it. I’m just glad we got in without an invitation, Aizen has a password only process of getting in – just like you had when we went to California,” she chatted away brightly.
Soi Fon wasn’t too pleased about being compared to Sosuke Aizen, but at least things had calmed down. “Erm, Yoruichi-sama,” she asked, her tone a little more casual, feeling brave enough to ask if the childish dress had been selected in a subtle way for Yoruichi-sama wanted her to stop being a prude? “I was just wondering if you perhaps chose this dress to further address your point?”
Her boss looked a little confused, then shook her head, “What? No, I chose the dress because I thought it’d look cute on you. And I was right!”
Oh Lord…
**
“Do you think they’re alright?” Rukia asked, leaning over Hanataro a little to glance towards the corridor leading to the bathroom Yoruichi and Soi Fon had headed down a few moments before.
Hanataro shifted nervously, “Hopefully… I mean, that Chinese girl seemed really upset about something…”
The shorter girl shrugged her shoulders, “Soi Fon is a really unusual lady,” she glanced around nervously in case her brother was around before whispering, “Two years ago at New Years a business associate of my brother’s tried to kiss Yoruichi when the clock struck 12 – Soi Fon hit the guy in three pressure points and paralysed him temporarily,” Rukia chuckled, “She’s a martial arts Master, someone you really wouldn’t want to mess with… She’s also completely and utterly in love with her boss.”
“Yeah,” Hanataro admitted, “I was sort of getting that impression too.”
He’d never been to a party like this, something so classy and high class. It made him feel nervous – luckily the host was really nice. Sosuke Aizen was someone you heard a lot of rumours about – superficially charming, an excellent businessman, the face of anti-sexual harassment in the workplace, a terrifying lawyer… but he wasn’t one to support snobbery. Some people wouldn’t have been so nice about Hanataro’s wide-eyed stares at their home.
The two of them laughed nervously, blushing as their hands touched. Hanataro recoiled, his hand in his pocket, Rukia’s cheeks had gone pink and she looked around the corridor quickly, before she let out a gasp, “Hey – isn’t that… Kira-kun?”
Hanataro remembered Izuru Kira from first aid class in primary school and a few social gatherings since. They didn’t talk a lot, but shared a kind of awkward affinity, as both were shy and mild mannered. Though he was beginning to wonder what Kira-kun was doing here – it was definitely him, coming out of one of the rooms, tucking his mobile phone into his trouser pocket.
Kira-kun looked up and saw the two of them and walked over, smiling nervously, “Oh, hello, Rukia-san, Hanataro-san, are you… here for the party?”
Rukia nodded brightly, “Yes, we came with my brother… I think he’s having another business call. Who have you come with?”
There was a flicker of embarrassment and excitement over Kira-kun’s face all at the same time, he shifted nervously and said, “I was invited personally by Aizen-sama.”
After a pause, Rukia seemed to remember something, before she smiled and said, “Oh,” in an understanding way… which made Hanataro wonder if it was something school related… hopefully she’d let him in on it later.
Hanataro remembered hearing a few days ago from Rukia and Renji-kun that Gin Ichimaru-Sensei had lost his job at Karakura High – Renji-kun had been positive it was due to the sexual harassment of a student. Hanataro was trying to remember which student they’d been talking about… Naturally, Rukia had been thrilled about Ichimaru-Sensei leaving, he’d always given her the creeps.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if you wouldn’t mind coming into the living room whilst dinner is being sorted?” A portly servant called from the living room door, waving a hand towards it.
“I’ll see you in there,” Kira-kun piped up, before he began making his way towards the staircase. Hanataro half wondered why and was about to ask, when he felt Rukia’s hand on his arm. He went completely rigid, a sort of fluttering jellied feeling inside him – as well as an irritating desire to just act normal!
“Shall we?” Rukia asked quietly, her cheeks had gone the most adorable shade of pink, “… go inside, I mean?”
“Yes,” he began walking towards the doorway with her, a large gaggle of party guests joining them; some of which Hanataro recognized, others he did not. As they met with the other guests, Rukia glanced over her shoulder to see Kira-kun at the bottom of the stairs. She saw his mouth widen into a bright smile and he rushed into the arms of Ichimaru Gin, who held him to him tightly, his silvery head buried in the boy’s shoulder.
Inside the sitting room were quite a large gaggle of guests. Byakuya-san was now stood by the fireplace, talking to Jushiro Ukitake and Shunsui Kyoraku. Yoruichi-san and Soi Fon-san had entered the room behind them, the dark skinned woman rushing to Ukitake and hugging him around the shoulders. Hanataro’s eyes widened a little as he saw Unohana-Sensei stood with Isane-san not too far away, talking to Isane-san’s little sister, Kiyone-chan and her fiancé, Sentaro-san. It would be nice to see Unohana-Sensei again, especially as he was quite keen to begin working for her once he was finished at medical school.
**
It was a bit of a turnout, Yoruichi had to admit. Sosuke Aizen was a lot of things, but apparently being someone who could send out a good guest list was one of them. It was a well-known fact that as a self made billionaire he tended to do – as anyone who had to work hard for where they were – a lot of things one would normally leave to a PA himself. Yoruichi had always found that to be a very positive quality in a boss, it was something she’d encouraged in Byakuya. After all, it was very easy to put too much faith in the silver spoon in your mouth.
It was wonderful to see Jushiro looking like himself again. He had colour in his face and was in excellent spirits. The last time they’d spoken he’d told her he was keen to get back to teaching – after all, it had been his life.
“I’m glad to see you looking so good,” she hugged him again around the shoulders, taking a moment to remind herself of his scent, the softness of his hair against her forehead. It felt so strange those months before the idea of losing him had become an unfortunate reality. She wondered if it was perhaps the fact Jushiro had been saved that made her think deep down she had not been ready to lose him at all.
“Thank-you, Yoruichi-san,” he pulled back from the hug, smiling affectionately at her, “You’re looking very well yourself. That is a very beautiful dress.”
She chuckled, “It was a present from an admirer,” Yoruichi glanced down at the elegant fabric, before winking at him teasingly, “So have you heard anything more from Karakura High?”
The older man beamed at her, “Oh yes. As soon as my physician approves me I can return to my old job. I must say I’m very excited about it,” he fixed his collar, “Shunsui and Ichimaru-kun have been most helpful getting me up to speed with marking and topics. They’ve been angels.”
It sounded more like they wanted somewhere to dump their workload, but if it made Jushiro happy it fair enough. If she recalled, Shunsui was always asking for ‘help’ with his essay marking, which translated as putting on a pout and grumbling under Jushiro would do it for him. That guy was like a big kid.
“Yes, angels,” she said, her eyes rolling as she saw Shunsui Kyoraku taking out a small bottle of sake and adding it to his punch.
Sosuke Aizen’s biggest fall-back seemed to be a lack of a fun loving spirit – poor Shinji Hirako had voiced this on numerous occasions whilst they drove him home from a bar. He’d say: ‘Ya know what, I don’t even knows why I slept with him – I mean, sure e’s a good lay – everyone can use a good lay – but e’s not fun! E don’t even drink – drinks fuckin’ cranberry juice!’ This would normally be spoken before he started scrambling about and telling Kisuke to ‘Open the hatch’ so he could vomit, or passing out into her chest, which had happened once and Soi Fon nearly crashed the car.
“I’ll take that,” Nanao Ise reached out and snatched the bottle from his hand and the drink, pouring it into one of the bins and putting the bottle in her handbag. Her expression of utter contempt for her boss, who was pouting and tugging at her arm (Nanao-chan, that’s mine!).
“Nanao-san has been perfect,” he added, “She works harder than Shunsui asks her too,” he smiled affectionately, “I feel very lucky to have so many people in my life who are so prepared to help me out.”
She hooked her arm through his, “And we’re all thankful that you’re here, Jushiro.”
Sometimes it felt strange to look around at the people around her. At her own parties she’d see Jushiro and Shunsui, Nanao, Kiyone and Sentaro, Unohana-san and her assistant Isane, she’d see Kisuke, Tessai and the Vizards. Byakuya would be there, awkwardly so, but he’d always show up if she insisted… It almost felt like not much had changed aside their ages. Shunsui would have a few more grey hairs, Kisuke would look more exhausted, Shinji got his tongue pierced… Yoruichi would find herself wondering why Kukaku was arriving without Kaien – and all of a sudden you’d be faced with a sinking feeling that one of your dearest friends had died before he was even thirty.
She’d think about Kaien from time to time, she knew Jushiro would too. She’d remember him as the brave boy who rode with his sister in the ambulance when her arm was so badly damaged it needed to be amputated, the laughing teenage boy who climbed with her onto a bill board and the two of them painted it, or the dark haired bright eyed man who’d looked so very happy on his wedding day. The happy memories made it less painful to think about how he suffered through the death of his wife, the man who died protecting Rukia-chan from Koga Kuchiki.
“Yoruichi-sama, would you like me to fetch you a drink?” Soi Fon spoke up, bowing politely. It was sort of adorable that she adopted a man’s bow from a very young age, it was probably due to her hardened father.
“Yes, thank you, Soi Fon,” she waved her hand carelessly, rolling her eyes playfully at the stiff way her bodyguard walked. Soi Fon was such an unfortunate at times, she threw herself head first into her career and never looked back. She’d still feel guilty that her most trusted bodyguard had never… had a relationship or gone to a nightclub (off duty), or had whole days where she did nothing but watch old films and eat chocolate. Every girl was supposed to do that at some point – and it was futile to show Soi Fon this behaviour through them doing it together, because then all she’d do was watch Yoruichi and sit there stiffly. It was like fighting a one-sided sumo match. It made her happy that Soi Fon was happy working for her and being beside her… but Yoruichi cared about her, and it made her feel guilty that there was this whole other element of life that Soi Fon would turn away from.
“She’s very attached to you,” Jushiro said, his tone was amused, caring, but definitely amused. Shunsui frequently teased her about Soi Fon’s utter adoration (normally asking if Yoruichi had any near future plans to ask her body-guard to ‘come protect her in the bed’, which was normally met by her smacking him over the head or just laughing).
“Yes she is,” Yoruichi smiled gently, folding her arms across her chest, “I think if I told her I felt the same she’d have a heart attack,” she chuckled, her eyes deep in thought, “So I suppose I’ll have to keep it to myself.”
Jushiro patted her on the back, laughing, “She might surprise you.”
Yoruichi shook her head, “I know her too well. Poor Soi Fon has no surprises left for me.”
“Nemu, you wretched girl, what have you done now?”
Sometimes it was not unlike watching a child abuse advert. Mayuri Kurostuchi was possibly the worst human being ever; he’d worked with Kisuke a lot in the past, though Yoruichi didn’t particularly like him. More recently he’d worked on the formula that saved Jushiro’s life, so she wouldn’t be rude if he spoke to her today… still, she loathed the way he spoke to his daughter Nemu.
It made her wonder what Unohana-san saw in her husband. They’d been married for such a long time – she’d heard from Kisuke that Unohana-san saved Kurotsuchi from a life of crime. They were both utterly brilliant doctors; apparently in many cases they were rivals in upgrading their treatments. In their own strange ways, they were utterly terrifying alone, which heightened to a maximum level when they were together.
“Excuse me,” Unohana-san spoke up to her assistant’s, crossing the room to her husband.
From what Yoruichi could see, Nemu told her father the wrong time for the party and they were twenty minutes late. It made her curl her lip slightly and wish someone would just un-invite him…
“Darling,” Retsu Unohana slipped an arm around her husband’s waist, her tone a little dangerously sweet, lips drawn into the sinister smile that would bring a man like Kenpachi Zaraki to his knees, “I don’t think I heard you right, did you just call our daughter ‘wretched’?”
Was that a trickle of fear?
He shook his head awkwardly, fixing his tie, “You have misheard me.”
“Yes, I’m sure I did, now I believe you needed to speak to Sosuke Aizen?” she kissed him lightly on the cheek, before turning her back, taking her daughter’s arm and leading her back over to the others. Nemu nodded her head politely – Yoruichi noticed she was in the habit of curtseying to Byakuya – which she found completely amusing as the younger man looked as embarrassed as someone of his temperament could get.
“I have no idea how you handle him, Retsu,” Shunsui patted Unohana-san on the back, chuckling darkly, before adding, “I mean no offence of course, Nemu-chan,” presenting the younger woman with a toothy grin.
Unohana-san laughed politely, taking a sip of her drink, “He has his moments. I believe he is feeling uneasy coming here and seeing his old protégé.”
She was of course referring to Szayel Aporro Grantz, whom she could make out across the room, talking quietly to a good-looking young blonde. The last time Yoruichi was unfortunate enough to clap eyes on him was years ago during his lawsuit, back then he’d looked rough as hell. He’d been paler, almost sickly, unkept shoulder length pink hair, wide amber eyes and sickeningly thin. It was years ago, when Mayuri took him to court to get him banned from the medical profession. Szayel Aporro Grantz was declared temporarily insane, and banned from the medical profession.
Before Aizen came to his rescue of course.
“He’s looking well for a madman,” Yoruichi smirked, rolling her eyes, “I don’t recognize who he’s talking too though. Is it one of Aizen’s employees?”
Isane-san nodded her head, “Yes, I went to high school with that man. Tesla-kun, he’s a secretary at Arrancar.”
Her eyes trailed up and down the lean form of the blonde. He couldn’t be older than twenty-four-years-old – he’d taken off his suit jacket, his pants tight enough to show off a really tight firm backside. The older woman smirked, folding her arms, she laughed, leaning in to Unohana to whisper, “Hmm, maybe I should get a secretary.”
Unohana giggled behind her hand, patting her on the shoulder, “Yoruichi-san,” she lowered her voice, “I’m sure that nice young man would rather keep his face just the way it is… and if Soi Fon hears you talking that way,” she winked playfully, both women laughed, Yoruichi glancing over her shoulder at Soi Fon as she did.
Unaware of the eyes on him, Tesla turned his attention back to Szayel, who was pretending to look out of the window. He cleared his throat, “Szayel-san,” he swallowed nervously, “I know something happened between you and Nnoitra-sama the other day,” he looked up at the other man, “He won’t talk to me.”
“Nnoitra is that sort of man,” Szayel looked up, giving him a smirk, “Just because he’s in a bad mood doesn’t mean I had something to do with it.”
Tesla shook his head, “I’m not being rude, sir, but I know it was to do with you. I’m a good judge of what bothers Nnoitra-sama,” he coughed into his hand, “I know… what he did was… stupid. But he loves you,” he looked up and held his gaze, “You know that, right?”
That sort of talk made him tense. Nnoitra never spoke that way, when they were together he’d say things like ‘It’s… good yer here’ out of the blue whilst looking off embarrassedly into the opposite direction, or snuggle up to him in bed, then pretend it was an accident. Even though in his own way, he’d told him he loved him every day, it felt strange to hear someone voice the actual words out loud. Szayel looked away, swallowing and turning his back, “Nnoitra was never much of a talker,” his voice was small and it almost disgusted him. It reminded him of being really small, too small to have any real power or ability to voice his opinions.
When he was a little kid, he liked to be called Szayel Aporro – his first and middle name because it made him sound grand, better than his elder brother. Yylfordt was his complete opposite, he was loud and crass and stupid… he was a bully. When they were very small, Szayel adored him, until he started being cruel. He broke the tiara Szayel liked to wear as a child and teased him about it, he stole his glasses and told his friends that he had a little ‘sister’. It made him so angry that he put laxatives in his food and cut holes in his clothes – that was before the days he mastered voodoo.
Voodoo was something he learnt from his mother’s side of the family when he was fifteen – and hell, after that, Yylfordt had never known suffering like that. He deserved it of course.
His brother made him feel awful so he got revenge in his own twisted little ways… And to a similar sense, he’d done the same thing to Nnoitra.
Whether they voiced it aloud or not, Szayel had loved him. He’d loved Nnoitra more than he could put into words, it scared him, but the chaos about it was… beautiful. It was perfect and it made him unafraid to give himself completely to another man. The dark haired man made him happier than anyone else ever had and probably ever would.
When he found out Nnoitra had slept with Luppi, it destroyed him. That disgusting little skank had had his eye on Nnoitra for a while, Szayel had warned him and his lover blew it off like it was a joke. He tried to get him to go home with him that night, but Nnoitra wouldn’t. He wanted to stay out drinking with the others, even though it was pretty much only him and Luppi left – he even had the drunkern golly to call Szayel ‘obsessive, clingy, annoying’… It embarrassed him enough, but of course, it had to go five steps further.
Being told they’d slept together made him feel like the world had shifted out of his reach, that reality had dropped him off the egde. All of a sudden he’d lost control and he was back in that dark lonely place – God, he was so angry – so angry nothing would make him feel better! He wanted to tear off Luppi’s fake little head! He wanted to burn them! He wanted Nnoitra to feel like his life wasn’t worth living! The feeling was so utterly consuming he thought he’d gone mad. He wanted to be a wreck, he wanted to lose himself… all of the good feelings he’d felt for Nnoitra now all piled together inside only causing pain and misery.
It felt only natural to slip into insanity.
But that would mean Luppi and Nnoitra had beaten him. Everyone would look upon him and pity his lost resolve, his weakness. Szayel reached into himself and found strength he didn’t know he had. There was enough of his being left to rip himself free of Nnoitra and look upon his former lover with hollow eyes. He tormented Luppi and Nnoitra in the same petty voodoo ways he tormented his brother. They suffered none life threatening effects.
There were times he’d long for Nnoitra again, but Szayel was unable to forget the pain that came after his lover betrayed him. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with it again, he couldn’t trust him not to make the same stupid mistake.
“Whether he was a talker or not, you knew that about him from the start,” Tesla stepped in a little closer, “He misses you. Szayel-san, you know Nnoitra-sama is instinctive, and at this moment in time desperate,” he lowered his voice, “If you make him believe he has hope, he’ll keep trying to win you back.”
It was true. He did give him false hope. Eyes meeting across the corridors, the sort of talk they had as lovers, the time they almost reconciled on an away business meeting… the odd brush of hands… last week Szayel had gotten as far as going back to Nnoitra’s apartment after abducting Hirako Shinji. It was a mixture of giving him false hope to hurt him… and Szayel missing his lover, wanting to be close, then deciding it was too overwhelming and pulling himself from the situation.
They had talked after the kidnapping. Hirako Shinji was Aizen-sama’s former lover, and from the way Luppi was rightly fired, it was clear that Aizen-sama still had feelings for him. It was strange how two people could… rekindle time and time again. He’d wanted to be close to Nnoitra again. The encounter was as rewarding as Szayel had hoped, talking to him made it seem almost like nothing had changed and no time had passed. Szayel had looked down and seen Nnoitra’s hand on his knee, and his own brushing lightly against his arm. Their eyes had met for a second, only to be interrupted by loud knocking at the door.
The instant he heard Luppi’s voice, Szayel decided enough was enough. If Nnoitra was the first person that sick twisted little fuck thought of when in a crisis, then something was obviously going on. Perhaps Nnoitra had been using him as a pity fuck since he found himself very bitter and single. Szayel had doubted since the STD scare he’d given them – hilarious – but still, Nnoitra had done stupider things.
Of course he’d stormed out and driven off like a maniac. He stopped by the mall and bought himself some flowers to make himself feel better, and had promptly arrived back at his apartment to find Nnoitra sat at his door, waiting for him.
“Nothing happened between me and him.”
“I don’t care about that.”
Nnoitra stood up and took a step closer, trying to intimidate him into listening using his daunting height. It was a really irritating habit of his, something he once tried to assert over Tousen-san. “You do care, that’s why you ran off on me. I sent him off anyway, beat up his creepy little face. I can’t stand the sight of him since that one time, Szayel.”
The look on his face said he was telling the truth, but the desperation in his voice said that if Szayel admitted to believing him, the taller man would think they were close to being back together.
“Again, I don’t care.”
His hands suddenly clasped onto his shoulders, Nnoitra lowered his head and snarled, “What do I need to do, damn it? If you wanted to wash your hands of me, you’d stop… looking at me like that!” he shook him hard, “If you want me to do something I’ll do it. I’ll put Luppi in intensive care if that’s what you want. I can’t fix us if you don’t tell me what to do!”
Szayel smirked, brushing his hands off him and looking straight into his eyes, his gaze was malicious, his lips drawn into a mocking grin, “Beg me.”
His eye turned to the floor. His shoulders slumped. Nnoitra swallowed and turned to the side a little as if trying to gather himself. His fisted hands were trembling slightly, biting his lower lip. Szayel couldn’t tell whether it was due to frustration or rage.
Shortly after they broke up, Szayel told him to beg him and Nnoitra had told him he wouldn’t. ‘I’ll never beg anyone for anything! I’m a man, Szayel, I have my pride.’
It was the one thing Szayel knew Nnoitra would never do. At the end of the day, love would come and go like the changing of the season –, one thing Nnoitra had kept constantly in his life was his pride. He’d never let go of his pride – not for anyone.
“I thought so,” he pushed past him and turned the key to open his door when he heard the older man clear his throat.
“Please…”
It was one of those moments where the world seems to sit utterly still.
“Please,” he raised his voice a little, “I’m… begging you to forgive me,” he raised one of his shaking hands for him.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Szayel considered taking him in his arms and kissing him again and again as his heart swelled. He wanted their fighting to be over, to accept what had happened and move on with his lover. But then he realized this was the perfect opportunity to hurt Nnoitra more than he ever thought he could.
Szayel stood up on tiptoe, taking the taller man’s cheek, stroking it gently with a serene smile on his face as he said, “You’re pathetic. Get out of here.”
Of course he could understand why Tesla was worried. Nnoitra was devastated because he put his heart on the line, not only that but he abandoned his precious masculine pride for a few moments, long enough to have his being trampled on. He could imagine what the other man would be like from the moment his eyes widened and appeared for a few moments utterly defenceless, before turning and walking swiftly away.
Szayel swallowed, turning back to look at Tesla, who was watching him with the same stern, concerned expression. It was nice to know that someone worried for the two of them… even if it felt a little patronising as the blonde was nearly ten years younger than them. He bit his lower lip, “Tesla, I appreciate your concern for Nnoitra and myself, but I have matters to attend too…” he turned to head towards Stark and Barragan – anything to distract him from this.
The blonde seemed to nod his head, accepting the other man’s answer, before touching his shoulder and adding very gently, “You miss him too, Szayel-san. When he isn’t looking, you can’t take your eyes off him,” Tesla turned to walk away, “You’re punishing yourself as well.”
In that… there was truth.
**
It was becoming a bit of an event now. All of the guests gathered around the table – which was easily as large as the one Byakuya and Rukia ate at together at home. The dark haired girl glanced up at the head of the grand table where the host would sit. At his right hand was Ichimaru Gin with Kira-kun beside him.
In all honesty, Rukia didn’t think she’d ever seen Izuru looking happier. His pale cheeks were flushed and he had the most adorable nervous smile. The way the two of them sat together suggested they were holding hands. Renji would be furious – she wouldn’t hold that against him. Whenever the subject of Ichimaru-Sensei and Kira-kun was brought up, anyone would assume that the older man, who was so… scary, was taking advantage of sweet shy Kira-kun. Anyone would assume that, until you saw them sat together, side by side, so in awe of each other, so adoring.
So, she just wouldn’t mention this to Renji.
Rukia was sat between Hanataro (who was fidgeting) and her brother, half way down the table with Yoruichi-san opposite them with Soi Fon (who looked utterly uncomfortable) beside her.
On Aizen’s left was Kaname Tousen with two empty seats next to him. Earlier that evening she had seen him stood with an incredibly tall hairy man, whom her brother introduced to her as Komamura Sajin, and a young boy who was introduced as their son, Wonderweiss. The seats must have been saved for them.
“Where do you think Tousen-san’s guests are?” she whispered to Hanataro.
He turned to face her, whispering quietly, “The tall man… erm… Komamura-san carried the boy off… He started getting upset when he saw, erm… Ichimaru-Sensei.”
Rukia chuckled a little at that. If she had been younger when she first clapped eyes on Ichimaru Gin, she’d probably have cried as well. She glanced across at Tousen-san again. He looked a little anxious, shifting in his seat and listening carefully in case his family was close to returning. It was nice to see a parent so concerned about their child.
On Hanataro’s left, sat a very old man with the sourest expression she’d ever seen. Rukia recognized him as Barragan-san – a shareholder for Arrancar, he had attended many of her brother Byakuya’s company parties. He had clashed with Byakuya once over his crude manners towards her brother’s secretary, Nemu-san. Right now, the old man sat back in his chair as if he was a King upon a throne – giving Soi Fon the nastiest glare Rukia had ever seen.
She briefly remembered hearing something about Barragan-san attempting to court Yoruichi-san during the woman’s early twenties. He bought her dresses and consistently offered to take her away to his private island cabin. It was something to do with wanting a beautiful fourth wife…
It was a well-known fact that Soi Fon would commonly take Yoruichi-san’s more persistent suitors aside and rather rudely explain to them that they were not good enough for ‘Yoruichi-sama’. Naturally, Soi Fon would claim that she only did this, as a humble servant of the Shihoin Family, protecting the traditions and assuring Yoruichi-sama wasn’t bothered by inferior potential partners. But it sounded a little more like Soi Fon didn’t want Yoruichi-san dating anyone.
Beside Barragan and currently the only person excitedly talking was the old man’s partner of nine years, Charlotte Cuuhlhourne. He had a thick masculine frame with muscles as big as Ikkaku’s… he also sported very long wavy violet hair and unfortunate facial features. He also appeared to be wearing a tight fitted backless white evening gown with high-heeled sandals and thick make-up, his bulging arms covered with elbow length white gloves.
Barragan was married to a drag queen.
A drag queen who was currently reaching across the table to clasp hands with Nanao Ise, “Darling! I cannot believe this is our first encounter! Lisa-chan simply raves about you!”
All of a sudden she recalled Yumichika’s bitching at Matsumoto’s Bar the other night… something about a ‘loud mouthed fugly drag queen photographer’ currently working with him at Vizard. He’d shown a photographer on his phone, Rukia hadn’t seen it, because Ganju saw it first and made some stupid comment like ‘Hey, pretty-boy, that’ll be you in twenty years’ – Yumichika had gone into a simmering rage and kicked out the chair from under his legs, followed by a stream of ugly based insults. It would be a pretty small world if this was the same person Yumichika described… after all how many… ‘loud-mouthed fugly drag queen’s’ can there really be around Karakura town? Still… this person was a friend of Lisa-san…
Mayuri Kurotsuchi was back, taking a chair beside his wife. He was so awkward as he kissed her cheek, straightening up and giving anyone who might have been looking, a very dark look. He turned to talk to Ukitake-Sensei, probably about the procedure they went through…
Rukia had felt utterly relieved to see Ukitake-Sensei looking so healthy. She had made a bit of a spectacle of herself when Kyoraku-Sensei brought his lover to visit her and Byakuya at the manor. The instant she saw him she nearly burst into tears and ran to him. Now whenever she saw him, she felt embarrassed for getting so upset in front of everyone. Ukitake-Sensei was a kind man; he looked out for everyone and had been especially kind to her after the death of Kaien.
At the end of the table she noticed a few Arrancar employees. One of them she recognized as Stark – this was only because he was there at Uryu-kun’s party and Orihime described him as ‘ruggedly handsome’, to which Rukia would agree. He had a bored expression, chatting to Kyoraku-Sensei, occasionally checking on the skinny platinum blonde haired girl beside him – who was currently cutting her napkin with her knife. Beside the little girl was a dark skinned blonde woman, so casually beautiful you’d expect to see her on the covers of fashion magazines. Rukia noticed the men at the table kept glancing at her.
Sentaro and Kiyone were bickering, as usual… they seemed to be fighting about who got to sit next to Ukitake-Sensei. It was like two children fighting sometimes, she had to wonder how they would cope as a married couple.
Komamura-san returned, his large hand enclosing a much smaller one as he gently led his son towards the table. Wonderweiss-kun was blond, with wide purple eyes, his shoulders hunched with a skinny gangly frame. It looked a little like he’d been crying. He must have been about eleven years old, but his demeanour was so young it was a little adorable.
Rukia sighed gently, she brushed her hair behind her ears before lowering her hand nervously under the table to meet Hanataro’s. He flinched at first, then his eyes met hers, he went a little red as he hooked his fingers through hers.
**
Izuru couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he spotted Komamura-san quietly leading Wonderweiss-kun towards the table. After he and Gin reconciled – and Izuru stopped hiding his face in his shirt to hide his tears, they’d stopped in at the party. Unohana-Sensei quickly took Gin to one of the private rooms, something about a deal with Aizen-san.
It was painful for Izuru that Gin hadn’t been eating or sleeping. All this time his own heart had ached for his lover. His parents had been furious, angrier with him than they had been for anything he’d done before. His aunt had cried and his uncle had said, a little gruffly, ‘We’d be willing to accept this, Izuru, if it were your choice. You’ve just been manipulated and taken advantage of!’
They didn’t understand – they didn’t understand that he wasn’t being manipulated; he was in love with Gin. Thank God they’d been too ashamed to take it further than the school. Izuru had cried miserably, he’d been going desperate with worry. Just to hear his lover’s voice would have eased his pain, but they were so adamant about keeping them apart. It was like a wide ocean had been placed between them and there was no clear way to be back beside each other.
To be with Gin now, was like living in a dream. He didn’t want to let go of his hand. And the relief he’d felt when Unohana-Sensei told them Gin was fine, just in need of a good meal and a good nights sleep.
On arriving at the living room the guests had gathered around, Gin and Unohana-Sensei when to speak with Aizen-san, so Izuru went over to greet Komamura-san, who introduced him to his son, Wonderweiss-kun, who made a small sound, hiding a little behind Tousen-san, clasping onto his sleeve.
It was a perfectly calm situation until Gin came back to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and peering over his shoulder. Wonderweiss-kun started making gabbled little noises and hid behind Tousen-san, shaking his head frantically.
“Wonderweiss,” Komamura whispered softly, bending down to touch the boy’s hand. “It is only Ichimaru-san, there is no need to be frightened whilst me and Kaname are here.”
Izuru was about to gently say goodbye before the boy got any more upset, when Gin lent over his boyfriend, leaning down and calling quite playfully, “Yeah, it’s only little ol’ me.”
Wonderweiss-kun became very distressed, making loud miserable yelps, trying to tug Tousen-san completely over to eclipse him from Gin.
Gin’s teasing tone implied he was doing it on purpose… although the silver haired man did have an unfortunate talent for terrifying people. This poor boy would be unable to see that Gin was only playing.
It was then the servant at the door began calling the guests into the dining room to sit around that incredibly enormous table. Wonderweiss-kun was crying now, his big purple eyes wide and confused, hands shaking as he hugged his father, shaking his head. Tousen-san shot Gin a withering look before turning his back on them, to try and calm his son down.
“Kaname,” Komamura-san lent down, getting on his knees, one of his hands on his partner’s back, “You go inside. I’ll take him out for some air.” He reached out and scooped up the boy into his arms. Wonderweiss-kun wrapped himself into the embrace, sobbing into his father’s shoulder.
Izuru couldn’t help but feel relieved as the pair of them arrived at the table, Komamura-san sitting the boy in between him and Tousen-san. Wonderweiss-kun leant into Tousen-san’s arm, seeming appeased and happy now. He shot Komamura-san a nervous smile, before he felt Gin squeezing his hand. He turned his head to look at his lover and felt his lips pressing against his own, Izuru raised a slightly trembling hand to stroke his face as the older man deepened the kiss.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for coming.”
Gin broke away from him, lowering his hand to stroke Izuru’s arm gently, squeezing it very lightly, the pressure varying as if reminding himself his lover was with him. The two of them glanced up at Aizen-san as he entered the room. Sosuke Aizen-san was clearly one of those lucky men who looked wonderful in a suit – as much as Izuru adored Gin, when he wore his suited uniform to work, it often gave him the appearance of a gangster or a salesman. It was nice to see a man who looked so natural in completely formal wear.
“I apologize to have kept you all waiting,” he nodded his head, taking his seat at the head of the table, “Dinner is actually served, so I hope everyone is hungry.” Aizen-san had a very natural smile and way of speaking, Gin had once told him it was all for show… though it seemed very natural to Izuru.
Servants began gathering around the table, as the seats were assigned each person seemed to have a particular meal. This probably would have taken a lot of organising and background research. For example, Izuru remembered from first aid class, hearing that Hanataro-san was allergic to peanuts and wheat as well as being a vegetarian. When you were organising a dinner party you had to keep these things in mind, just in case you accidentally poisoned someone. He was pretty sure if you accidentally poisoned someone like Byakuya Kuchiki, you could be accused of an attempted assassination.
He reluctantly let go of Gin’s hand to begin eating the soup that had been placed in front of him. It seemed to be a more Westernised meal ahead of them – the soup smelt delicious, though he couldn’t distinguish the flavour from smell. Gin seemed to be having the same thing, though he was a little reluctant in tucking in. He was spending a long time buttering the bread on a side plate set between them.
The dinner party seemed to be really setting off, Aizen-san was speaking quietly to Tousen-san, leaning over a little to address Ukitake-Sensei. Izuru half followed the conversation, half tried to try and recognize the flavour of the soup. He glanced around the table, smiling nervously at Rukia-chan and Hanataro-san… Renji had told him a few days ago that the two of them were seeing each other, they looked sweet together. He always imagined whoever wanted to be with Rukia-chan would have a very hard time impressing her brother. Byakuya Kuchiki was a scary looking man, he had such a stern expression, though he was utterly brilliant in regards to the workings of his company.
“Sorry I’m late,” called a loud voice from the entrance to the dining room.
Izuru looked up to see a very tall over-weight man in expensive clothing, taking off a pair of sunglasses. He recognized him a little as Ômaeda-san, who had once gone drinking with Hisagi-senpai.
Ômaeda-san waved a hand brightly as his gaze fell upon Yoruichi-san and her assistant, Soi Fon – whom Izuru had seen at Renji’s place before. The Chinese woman was now sporting an expression similar to someone suffering from a kidney stone. The large man sat down beside Soi Fon, saying rather loudly, “Wow, Boss, you sure scrub up nice.” To which Yoruichi-san began agreeing with him, “See, she does, thank you, Ômaeda.”
“Oh yeah, Aizen-san,” Ômaeda said brightly, leaning over the table to talk to Aizen-san, gesturing towards the door, “I helped one of your guests in, poor guy had the pass-code from the invite, but this one old guy of yours was adamant he wasn’t allowed in the house.”
For a moment, Izuru glanced at Aizen-san, a sort of confusion dancing over his eyes, before he clapped his hands together, “Oh, is that the case? Thank you for alerting me to that, Ômaeda-san.” But then his attention was drawn to a skinny blonde with a bob cut heading inside the door, following Ômaeda into the dining room with a large teasing smile on his face, flashing a set of large straight teeth, “Well then, hey there, Sosuke,” he glanced around the table, standing close to Aizen-san on Gin and Izuru’s side of the table.
Izuru noticed Aizen-san looked a little surprised, glancing at the man, then at Gin, then at the servant who had come to the door behind the blonde, looking very anxious… Could this man perhaps be… a gatecrasher or something?
“Hirako-san,” he said, his face drawn into a charming smile. Most of the guests were lost in their own conversations so only those close by would notice the traces of hostility in Aizen-san’s voice, “However did you get past my security.”
The blonde man, Hirako-san, took out his cell phone, turning to show Aizen-san what was obviously the password for the night, “Yer talkin’ almost like yer unhappy t’ see me.”
Gin took this moment to squeeze Izuru’s arm, “Come on, Izuru-kun, it’s time for us to move down a seat.”
There was an empty seat next to him, awkwardly Izuru moved to sit into it, Gin moving beside him, moving their dinner things and kissing his cheek as they settled, before grinning at Aizen-san teasingly, “Ya said I could invite a pal o’ mine, didn’t ya?” he chuckled, “Hirako-san, come sit next t’ me and Aizen-san.”
“Gin…” Tousen spoke up, glowering at the silver haired man, “It was foolish to invite him here.”
“Well, Tousen-san, I forget what a sweet talker ya are,” Hirako-san smirked, taking a sip of the glass of wine that had just been placed in front of him, “Mm, do ya know what a fella needs to do around here to get himself some okonomiyaki?” He tapped the table mockingly, before leaning back in his chair.
Izuru wasn’t sure if he found this man incredibly crass and rude – particularly towards a powerful man like Aizen-san… or someone to envy as he was so… free and easy to use his words. Regardless, nobody really spoke to Aizen-san so casually, particularly calling him by his first name. He wondered if this person was… perhaps very familiar with Aizen-san? The look on the brunet man’s face was impassive, so it was difficult to tell what they were to each other.
The dinner party was much less awkward than the one that had occurred with just Aizen’s closest. Izuru spent most of it just looking at Gin out of the corner of his eye, already looking forward to the time they would spend together tonight… every now and then their elbows or knees would brush, and Izuru would be utterly consumed by the irrevocable love in his chest. He watched the other guests, his attention diverting from titbits of conversation – Wonderweiss-kun was eating what appeared to be potato pieces cut into the English alphabet. He was eating them after constructing them into sentences, looking completely puzzled as he organised them. Further down the table, Ômaeda-san was consuming everything in sight – Izuru was sure he’d seen him take something from the unsuspecting person next to him’s plate. Ukitake-Sensei was talking to Hanataro-san, most likely trying to encourage him to speak. Izuru half wondered if the older boy was still interested in practicing medicine?
If you judged a dinner party by how enthusiastically people talked in it, Izuru would have to say this one was a success… He turned to glance over at Aizen-san to see what his verdict on his party was, only to see the older man was sitting in an incredibly tense position in his chair. One eyebrow quivered – he was functioning perfectly comfortably, but there was something… unusual about him? Izuru frowned a little, tilting his head to the side to subtly watch him. Perhaps Aizen-san was not feeling well and didn’t want to show it very openly or voice it because of his guests? That was so very noble of him.
Gin’s chuckle pulled him away from his subtle gazes. The laughter was dark, but soft, he nodded below the table and rolled his eyes. He frowned a little, following the direction of Gin’s nod – he wondered what was going on… Izuru pretended to drop his fork, pushing back his chair to glance down. Gin’s hand reached to hold onto his, he heard his lover whisper, “Izuru-kun, wait-!” before his eyes fell upon it.
Sometimes Izuru would truly believe himself to be all grown up, no longer the ‘innocent one’ in his group of friends. And then there were moments like this, where he wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what Gin could be implying…
What he saw, was Aizen-san clasping onto the wrist of Hirako-san, as if trapped between pushing him away and keeping him there… as the blonde man pumped him hard and fast, taking his clothed member out of the security of his pants.
Izuru let out a squeak and nearly hit his head on the table as he attempted to recoil out of the eye line of such an intimate thing! Fancy doing something like that in a room full of people! He had to keep his gaze away from the top corner of the table – how… scandalous! Izuru briefly heard Gin whisper, ‘Told ya so’, before he felt his lover’s arm slide around his shoulders.
He wondered how on earth Aizen-san would hide what he was doing when he reached completion… then decided he really didn’t want to know… But then Hirako-san put both of his hands on the table, brushing against them with the serviette at his place mat, a slightly taunting smirk on his face as he turned to make conversation with Yoruichi-san. Izuru managed to glance back at Aizen-san, who suddenly looked surprised, then very embarrassed and annoyed, for the slightest moment, before he seemed to shift back into his ordinary reserved self. All of a sudden, Izuru realized the party had been manipulated into a secret cover for two men to get intimate with each other.
If it wasn’t for Gin’s arm around him, he wasn’t sure he could have finished his dinner without blushing, or cringed when he saw Aizen-san practically dragging Hirako-san up the stairs with him after the other guests had left. Tousen-san rolled his eyes and muttered something about ‘nostalgia’ to Gin, before he left with his family.
Once they were alone, Izuru leant his head on his love’s chest, closing his eyes, taking that moment to take in his smell, the feel of his arms around him. He felt thinner, he could feel his ribs against his shirt, but Izuru didn’t mention it as he felt Gin take his chin again, kissing him deeply and passionately. He felt tears running down his face as they pulled apart, Gin’s lips pressing against them one by one.
“I missed you,” Izuru whispered, his voice slightly broken as he spoke.
“Me too…”
**
Nothing said romantic like sitting with your ex boyfriend in his office, in an awkward silence whilst he nursed his injured crotch with a bag of frozen peas – Sarugaki-san had thrown it at him when Kensei went limping around the offices. Shuhei held an ice pack against his face from where Madarame-san had hit him – the whole encounter had him a little shaken up. He was drawn between the relief of Kensei rushing to his side when he needed him – a reminder that he was loved… and the shame of everything that had occurred between them.
All of a sudden the silence was broken by Kensei’s gruff utterance, “Why can’t you just forgive me?”
His words were like thunder breaking through a silent night. Shuhei glanced over at his former lover, who was slumped in his chair, still clutching the frozen peas to his crotch, a hand in his short silver hair.
Shuhei swallowed, “I can’t forgive you just because you want me too,” he sighed finally, turning his gaze back to the floor. It felt so strange to be stood here like this, with nothing but a burning bridge between them.
In some ways, love was like a battle. If you just charged into it blindly you would get hurt. Only those who went in, knowing full well there are things to be afraid of of in a relationship – obstacles to climb – would be truly happy in the end. It was one of the first things he had leant from working with Tousen-san, the man was full of good advice. It showed here, right now, in this relic of a relationship. Shuhei had ran in blindly, claiming he knew fear, and look where that had led him: no home, a crappy car, bruises, and the humiliation of a scandal. And that wasn’t even mentioning the heartbreak that came with losing your boyfriend.
Kensei looked up at him, exasperated, “You’ve been messing me around, Shuhei!”
His outburst was met with silence, and for a moment Shuhei wondered how he came to that conclusion. Did he assume he was leading him on when the younger man said nothing in response to his drunken guitar-playing stunt?
“I tried to win ya back – tried to get ya to see how much I need you – an’ ya push me away every time I come near! But tha’s bullshit, ya miss me! I know yer lookin’ at my back every time I turn away. Don’t ya dare deny it!” he glared at him, but there was a noticeable weakness in his voice, “Yer stayed workin’ here with me… ain’t even asked for a reference…” he swallowed, now looking up at him, their eyes meeting, “I’m not young like you are, Shu. I can’t play this game. Tell me it’s over for good, or take me back.”
He felt guilt rush through his heart when he heard that exhausted sad tone, Shuhei swallowed, turning his back slightly – he was hurting Kensei being here. The older man wasn’t over him, he’d rushed to defend him merely an hour ago. It was clear in his voice that he still loved him… But something inside Shuhei was tormenting him, making him so angry for being told he had to choose right now about the future of their coupling.
For the first time in a long time, he found his voice, his angry emotional voice, “Y-You threw me out of the apartment!” he broke out, his hands shaking, “You knew I had no-where to go! How do you think I felt just turning up at Izuru’s all covered in bruises!”
Kensei’s eyes narrowed, “You cheated on me, Shuhei, you’re not completely blameless in all of this!”
The night Yumichika kissed him almost seemed like a distant memory now. So much had happened sine then, and to think all it took was one little lapse of self-control… Yumichika was beautiful, sexy… he had no inclination to jump back on that bandwagon, but you’d be a fool to say he wasn’t… desirable. He’d been comforting him one minute, the next he was kissing him so passionately, that body pressing against him… It was like nothing had changed… he wanted him for a split second and a split second was all it took for guilt to consume him.
He’d been treated like some pervert who kissed his ex-boyfriend, Kensei had called him a slut and a whore over and over on the day they broke up… he even went as far as to imply Shuhei had slept with Renji.
“I kissed someone!” he snapped back, “And I think I’ve suffered enough for something that didn’t go further than that!” his voice was indignant, full of agony, “I’d never sleep with anyone else. I was honest with you and you called me a whore and bruised me up!”
Kensei rolled his eyes angrily, “Oh it’s just a kiss now, but just ya wait! Look at ya, Shuhei! Yer can do better than me! I deluded myself into thinking we had something… good – that it didn’t matter that I’m nearly twenty years older than ya! But if yer kissin’ other men, it means I was kiddin’ myself after all, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?!”
He didn’t understand how Kensei could be so… insecure. Shuhei had always felt like he was the lucky one. He thought he was someone who really hit the jackpot to be with a guy as proud, sexy and strong-willed as Kensei. Their age difference had been an unspoken issue between them, but Shuhei saw it as quite low down on their relationship problems.
“He kissed me – it was a mistake, Kensei. You think I don’t regret it? I don’t even know how you can think that I could do better than you…” he lowered his voice, turning away, “How would things change if I took you back? Are you telling me the next time we had a fight you wouldn’t use me kissing someone else as firepower? I’ll never live doing that down, and you know it!”
Kensei was persistent, and often cruel when they fought. Once he lost his temper he didn’t care how hurtful or damn right nasty he could be. Sure, he’d climb into bed beside him many hours later, wrap a muscled arm around Shuhei’s waist and whisper, ‘I’m sorry, baby’ into his ear – but it didn’t make it right. It didn’t make it right at all. Shuhei didn’t want to be reminded of this – this awful break-up every time they had a petty squabble. It wasn’t fair.
“That’s a load of shit,” Kensei said after the longest pause, “People fight, Shu. Everyone fights, no matter how happy they are. Are you seriously telling me you won’t get back with me because we’ll fight?”
“No,” he snarled indignantly, “One of the reasons I won’t just come back is that every time we have a fight – over something stupid like work or me staying out – you’ll make me feel I have to do what you want by bringing up me cheating on you!” he took a step towards him now, stood over where the older man sat, his cheeks were burning. “I’m not like you! I’d never use the fact that you fucking hit me just to score a few points!”
Suddenly Kensei seized the bag of frozen peas and threw them aside, he took Shuhei’s face in both of his hands and kissed him deeply.
The kiss took him by surprise; it was so passionate and intense. His former lover’s fingers buried in his hair, while his other hand reached down to hold onto his shirt tightly, deepening the kiss, tilting his head to the side. Shuhei closed his eyes, melting into his touch – deep inside of him; he knew he’d missed this. He missed the passion, the hunger to be touched and held and cherished. Most of all, he missed Kensei – he missed waking up every morning to that ruggedly handsome face, the way his eyebrows knitted into a frown while he slept… those big strong arms around him… from the evil way he smirked to the way he seemed to laugh with the whole of his body.
God, it had been so lonely without him. He hated depending on other people, everyone wanted to tell him that he was too good for Kensei – ‘that man is disgusting for assaulting you that way’ – ‘where did he expect you to go?’ – ‘You’re better off without him’… Nobody could really see that despite what happened, Shuhei was crazy about him… still.
Izuru’s parents had told him that he was better off without Kensei. They were good people, though he couldn’t say he agreed with the way they treated Izuru over the matter of his boyfriend – who’d have thought Renji would be right? Still, Shuhei couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that Izuru hadn’t told him. They’d always told each other that sort of thing… Still, it couldn’t be helped now.
Shuhei hadn’t wanted to inconvenience Izuru’s family any longer, so he moved out after looking for a place to go and spending the night in a motel. He slept in his car another night – which was where his former bosses, Kaname Tousen and Sajin Komamura spotted him. He’d parked next to the video store; they had been returning movies for their son, Wonderweiss-kun, when they recognized his old car. It was one of the most humiliating moments of his life, Komamura-san tapping on his window as he struggled to balance his cheap coffee and his files from work. He’d shaved in a public bathroom and looked an utter state. The car stank and so did he – they both looked so concerned. Komamura-san wouldn’t take no for an answer and now he was staying with them. It was a lovely home they had, and the two of them were both so kind – but now he felt like he couldn’t accept Kensei again. What on earth would his old mentors think of him? If he went back to Kensei, would he become every bit the domestic abuse victim that story in the paper made him out to be?
Maybe that wasn’t it… deep down; Shuhei knew he couldn’t go back to Kensei because he was upset about being hit – of being called a whore. It made him utterly miserable. He’d been so in love and Kensei had made him completely miserable.
He broke away from him, a little breathless, his hands had reached up and clasped onto Kensei’s shirt, holding him tight. Kensei panted softly, holding his chin between his forefinger and thumb.
“All I want is you,” Kensei whispered suddenly, pressing his forehead against Shuhei’s, “I love you. I’m so sorry.”
He rested his head on his shoulder for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart, feeling the hands on his back. It was a comforting touch, it barely seemed like it could have been done with the same hands that marked him.
“I love you too,” Shuhei said softly, “I love you so much… but I need… time to think,” he kissed him chastely on the lips, “I’m sorry, Kensei. I can’t give you an answer now,” he took his hands and kissed the knuckles as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Could it be… he was more confused than he was before today?
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Romance and Rivalries