Adult-FanFiction.org : Bleach

Diary of a Grown Ass Man	By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 1651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works......

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
CHAPTER 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Onwards...
XOXOXO
June 14th, 2011
Wednesday
7:30 pm
Oh man.
You have no idea how tempted I was to stay my ass at home again tonight, but my old man threatened to lock me away himself if I didn't come to class. How he planned to accomplish that, I have no idea, but I'm not one to tempt fate. My dad has ways that are far beyond mysterious and I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he did manage to somehow have his only son sent to the slammer.
My last two days were pretty strange.
I'll start with the day that I was "absent" from class. Fuck, I feel like I'm back in high school and shit.
Anyway.
I got up the next morning with this huge hickey on my forehead, wondering where the hell it came from and then getting pissed when I remembered. I started to plaster a bandage over it, but thought better of it and just took my ass to work. I mean, either way, the damned thing was going to draw attention, so I was fucked from the rip.
Sure enough, after the ten minute drive in my sweltering, BLACK Toyota Camry, I arrived at work and the doorman to the huge office-styled building, eyed me with a look that made me wanna cram my fist down his throat. I shuffled past him, anger already licking at the edges of my conscience and headed for the rundown elevators.
Now, messing with Shihouin & Things' elevators is like gambling. You win some and you lose some. More often than not, you lose some. I was hoping to win some just this once and oddly, the elevator made it to the fifteenth floor without incident or catastrophe.
Kurosaki: One
Elevator: Twenty-two
And yes, I did keep count. My life is just that fun.
I strolled through the halls on my floor, heading for my workspace and minding my own fucking business, when Keigo fucking Asano rams into me, knocking my messenger bag strap free from my shoulder. This is why the little tool got a right fucking hook to his mouth the last time we had a similar encounter.
I close my eyes, ball up my fists and count to ten, trying my hardest not to twist and shout all over that prick.
The only reason it worked was because Keigo had used some semblance of his brain and scurried the fuck outta there at the sight of "I'm pissed" written all over my face.
Guess he didn't want a repeat performance on my behalf.
Frankly, I could've sworn he was giving me a standing ovation and shouting "encore".
With that situation diffused, I shoved into the large, loft-styled room that housed my workspace, as well as others. It was bright and cheerful with annoying, sunshine yellow walls and thin, bright red carpeting.
Horrendous, right?
I know.
The only relief came from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the west side of the room, where there was a great view of the Karakura harbor. My workstation is near the windows and I am forever grateful for that. Watching the happenings beyond that glass has saved me many a time from dying a slow, agonizing death of boredom.
Another good thing about my boring ass job as a graphic designer is the fact that I work with my best friend/silent shadow, Chado. He doesn't really talk much unless he feels it's necessary, but I don't mind. He listens to me ramble and his company is often time good enough for me.
Today isn't one of those days.
I need input. Feedback. Participation.
I trudge to my light table and plunk my bag onto it, lowering myself into my black, cushiony swivel chair and swinging around to face my friend, who's already seated at his table and bent over it, studying something way too intently.
I clear my throat to get his attention and just like Chado, he turns to me with an expectant look.
I love this guy.
Let me take a moment to describe Chado to you.
He's tall as hell, built like an American football player, has coffee-brown skin and wavy hair that's only a few shades darker. His eyes are dark and solemn, but the right remains covered by a curtain of that brown hair, so most times I only see one eye anyway. Chado likes collared shirts with strange designs on them and slim-fitting jeans. His footwear alternates between loafers and sneakers. Today, he's wearing sneakers, a bright red and yellow, collared shirt, and light-blue jeans. His aura is formidable, but he wouldn't harm a fly...unless he really had to.
Then he was scary.
Chado gives me his expectant look and I sigh, running a hand over my face, unsure where to start. Chado smirks and sits back in his seat. He knows I'm going to have a doozy for him.
He's right.
"I started anger management yesterday," I state, giving him a look that indicates what I think about that little fun fact.
Chado smiles, but still doesn't say anything. He knows I'll continue on my own.
He's right again.
"I already hate it. I don't wanna go back," I monotone and this draws an eyebrow arch. "The people are weird, the group leader has spikes for a hairdo and I got in a fight."
Chado's shoulders sag in disappointment and he cocks his head to the side. I hurry to explain.
"It wasn't my fault though! This one guy just kept fucking with me! He even called me a virgin! What was I supposed to do?" I almost whine.
Just the thought of the blue-haired man has my stomach in knots and I'm ashamed because it's not all from anger. Chado observes me and just when I think he's not going to bother to comment, he does.
"Ichigo. Why didn't you ignore him?"
My mouth falls slack and all I can do is gape at my best friend. I'm wondering if he's gonna change his mind about what he just asked me, but...nope, doesn't look like he is. Chado has no idea what I went through and how impossible it was to ignore someone like that Grimmjow guy.
"He's not the type you can ignore," I mutter and swivel around to face my lonely workspace.
Chado doesn't say anything and I feel depression crashing over me like a tsunami. I thought Chado would understand my plight. I mean, we used to get into the occasional fight together in high school and I guess I just figured he would get that there were just some people that deserved to have their asses kicked.
Work crawled by at a snail's pace and by the time four o'clock rolled around, I was beyond ready to get the fuck outta there. I hadn't made much progress on the project I'd had to start over because of a certain brown-haired fuck-hole, so I gathered my messenger bag and slouched out of the office. Chado followed behind me silently and honestly, this was the first time that his quietness annoyed me.
I glance over my shoulder and notice he's watching me like a bomb squad watches a particularly nasty explosive device. I curl my upper lip back and grumble some nonsense, pulling a soft chuckle from the larger man, which completely catches me off guard. I whirl around, agitated, "What's so funny?"
"Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, Ichigo?" Chado says, his voice full of infinite wisdom.
I huff and resume the journey to the elevators, debating whether I should tell my best friend of over seven years that the reason Grimmjow had been able to wiggle under my skin so successfully was because I had found him attractive.
Shit, I'm cringing as I write this, I hope you know that.
It was a moment of revelation for me as well and it doesn't make me happy in the least.
I'm stabbing the call button for the elevator, when Chado nicely grabs the back of my shirt collar and tugs me towards the staircase. Chado doesn't seem to be in the mood to wait for the sometimey machine. We're trooping down the stairs and bless my tall friend's soul, he hasn't reminded me that there is a topic that is still wide open for discussion.
I know I'm procrastinating and avoiding the issue, but honestly. What the fuck am I gonna say?
Hey, Chado, the guy I fought is smoking gun hot and that's why I don't wanna go back to the anger management class.
No fucking way!
I'd never live it down.
We finally reach the main floor and trudge through the lobby, still cloaked in silence. My nerves are shot and I swear Chado can probably read my mind, which is why he hasn't said one word yet. We leave the building, the sun is out and being a prick, the ground is almost steaming like a sauna and the air is thick and humid, sticking to my lungs and throat.
We head to the parking lot next to the building and I look longingly at Chado's white, 2009 Mitsubishi Lancer, which is fully equipped with fully functional AC and power windows, unlike my old Camry. I'm so fucking jealous, but I don't want it to show as I hold my hand up and wave. Chado does something out of character and arches his visible brow.
"I'm coming over, Ichigo," he states and it's clear there is no room for argument as he slides into his leather upholstered vehicle.
I sigh and dread descends as I realize there is no way to get around this upcoming conversation. I slink into my overheated car and manually roll down the windows, anxious to get on the road and have some air circulate through the stuffy confines. I back out of my parking spot and notice Chado following close behind me.
Yeah, he's serious.
Chado is rarely, if ever, this persistent, so I know he's not letting this go. It's like he knows there is something more that I'm not telling him and he's actually determined to get it out of me. We cruise for a few blocks until a red light stops our progress. As I'm waiting for the light to change, a revelation sweeps over me and I'm left stunned and feeling like a fucking moron.
Like, why didn't I see this shit before?
Chado has been my friend for forever and yet, here I am behaving like I can't tell him anything. I think I could tell Chado I had genital herpes and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash.
Ok, maybe he would, but you get my point.
The light flicks green and off we go again. We pull up to my house and park in front before heading up the stoop. I cautiously unlock the front door because like I've said before, my old man is clinically insane and has a tendency to attack first and ask questions later.
Sure enough, I swing the door open and he's there, long leg raised and outstretched. I knock him to the ground with a well-placed elbow and a grunt of annoyance before continuing in the direction of my room. At the bottom of the stairs, I turn and ask Chado if he wants something to drink.
He doesn't.
We proceed.
In my room, I drop my messenger bag in my closet and plop down onto my lumpy bed. Chado takes a seat at my desk and turns a dark eye in my direction. I squirm and sigh. The moment of truth, in a manner of speaking.
"Sooo..." I say and Chado grins, which surprises me.
"Do you remember high school when we tried out for the wrestling team, but got booted because we broke the rules?" he asks and my face falls.
I really don't like where this conversation is headed.
"Yeah," I answer.
"So, was your recent fight anything like that?"
My face pales and it feels like all the blood in my body has vacated the premises. I never told Chado why that fight had occurred back then, but it seems like he has an idea. Maybe he doesn't see the whole picture, but he definitely has enough to make an estimation.
See, before I move forward with this little conversation between myself and Chado, I'll fill you in briefly on what happened back then. We went out for the wrestling team and in order to qualify, we had to wrestle with a member of the team to show our potential or whatever. My opponent was, for lack of better wording, pretty damned good-looking.
His name was Shuuhei Hisagi.
I remember him smiling at me and smelling like cupcakes. Strange, I know, but that's what it reminded me of.
Anyway, he had held his hand out, we shook and commenced with the wrestling. The first minute or so wasn't bad. In fact, it was pretty fun and engaging.
Then Shuuhei had gone and wrapped an arm around my upper thigh, his free hand cupping my ass. I don't know what the hell happened after that, but there had been a lot of scuffling. Wrestling had gone out the window and good old fighting had taken its place. Shuuhei had managed to trap me in a submissive hold where my head was between his legs, while his arms were wrapped securely around my torso.
I can tell you this. I had been ashamed, but I had also been aroused. And it had been visible.
Insert cringe here.
Shuuhei made a wrong move and I was able to slip away from him. That was when he noticed what was going on in my shorts and the resulting chain reaction wasn't pretty. He gave me a disgusted glare, punched me in my jaw and the fighting resumed, only this time, a few of his buddies decided it was a good idea to jump in.
Insert Chado.
He wasn't going to sit back and let some idiots jump all over me, so we ended up getting booted from the tryouts and needless to say, banned from ever returning. Not that I would want to.
Anyway, you can see why this route of discussion had me fucking disturbed and more than a little wary. I stare my best friend down, unable to confirm his suspicions. The recent fight really hadn't been my fault, but there is no denying that I think Grimmjow is nice-looking.
Ok, he's more than nice-looking, but no one needs to know I feel that way but me!
Chado just eyes me and waits patiently for me to respond. I hate when he gets like this, all quiet and all-knowing. It's disconcerting. I finally cave and shrug my shoulders, but I'm determined to let him know that it wasn't exactly like the incident in high school.
"He started it," I mutter lamely.
Chado does the eyebrow thing again and I do the shoulder thing again. We've reached a stalemate.
"Ichigo, do you like guys?" Chado asks and not only blows my fucking mind, but thoroughly embarrasses me because I've been pondering the same thing since my encounter with the blue-haired ruffian from anger management. It was easy to chalk up the high school thing to male hormones and puberty and what not, but this thing with Grimmjow is different. I'm fully grown and still find him attractive.
I wrinkle my nose, afraid to meet Chado's steady gaze. Do I admit that there's a miniscule, microscopic possibility that I may have a thing for my own gender?
Shit.
I'm not gay...am I?
"Probably you should think about that," Chado remarks and climbs to his feet.
I frown, "You're leavin'?"
"Mm, I have a few things to do."
So, he drops a nuclear bomb on my conscience and leaves?
Nice.
I watch him go, dumbfounded. My bedroom door swings shut and I lay back on my bed, my eyes locked on the ceiling.
I don't wanna be gay.
Next Day
Work is normal and boring, yet again, but when I'm leaving, something strange happens. I'm rounding the corner towards the staff parking lot, when a shock of blue hair catches my eye from across the street. I'm so shocked I allow myself to be seen – like a dumbass – and Grimmjow is grinning, already on his way over to me.
Yes, I'm stupid, but Grimmjow is like a tropical cyclone and I'm a defenseless tree, swaying in his trade winds.
He swaggers over to me, a huge grin plastered across his face and I'm trying not to grin back. His smile is so contagious. He's wearing a pale green, short-sleeved t-shirt that's molded to his muscular torso, black board shorts that are clinging low on his hips and low-top, black and white Converse sneakers. He smells like some type of exotic soap.
"Yo, wussup, fruit boy!" he greets and my blood percolates, my heart rate picking up.
"That ain't my name, you asshole," I growl.
Grimmjow doesn't give a snap and doesn't even blink, "Why weren't ya in class yesterday?"
I sigh and turn my back, strolling to my car and trying to ignore the huge, blue-haired thorn in my side. Doesn't work, of course, because Grimmjow follows me. I'm at my car now and he's still pestering me with his presence, although, truth be told, I can't really say it's much of a bother.
"This yer car? Fuck, what a piece a'shit!" Grimmjow exclaims and I change my mind about him not being a cramp in my side.
He's actually evolved to being a pain in my ass.
"Don't you have something better to do?" I snap, exasperated and quite fucking annoyed.
"Nope. Actually, I was wonderin' somethin'."
My hackles rise and I eye him with much suspicion. I don't trust him worth a damn. Grimmjow gives me that huge, creepy grin that displays massive, sharpened canine action and I literally feel a chill roll down my back.
"What?" I ask, hoping I haven't just signed my own fucking death warrant.
"Whataya say ta fightin' me again?"
I'm flabbergasted.
I stare at him for a beat, just to see if he's serious.
His blue eyes are intense and unwavering and I'm getting that he's very serious, indeed.
"Huh?" is all my brain can supply.
Grimmjow arches a thin, blue brow and gives good glare.
I get the picture.
"If ya c'n 'huh', ya c'n hear," he rumbles, his voice going lower and more threatening.
"Why do you wanna fight me?" I ask, not willing to argue with this guy.
"Why not? Didn't ya have fun before?"
I'm confused. Grimmjow is really asking me for a fight. Oddly, once I let the idea roll around in my mind for a while, it doesn't seem like such a bad one. I mean, come on, that's the perfect way to work off some stress and shit. I run a hand through my hair and grin at my sneakers.
My eyes slowly travel upwards to meet with arctic blue and it's like Grimmjow already knows what I'm going to say. His grin is back and he's rocking back on his heels, his hands stuffed into his shorts pockets.
"Fine," I state and Grimmjow whoops like the misbegotten cur he is.
"Here, take my number. I ain't goin' ta class tanight, so call me tamorrow and we'll see what we can set up, yeah?" he asks in a rush, his words almost squeezing together.
All I can do is nod and pull out my cell phone as Grimmjow recites his number. I store it under his name and he's obviously shocked if his lifted eyebrows are any indication.
"What?" I ask defensively, not liking the look on the cretin's face.
"Ya remember my name?" he asks with a tilt of the head.
I almost blush, but nod anyway. Is it bad that I remember his name? Grimmjow smiles and saunters off with a backwards wave, "See ya, Ichigo."
My mouth falls to my knees and my heart pitter-patters in my chest as I watch him walk away.
It's my turn to be surprised.
Class was uneventful. Kenpachi yelled at Nnoitra for bringing his knife again. Personally, I think Nnoitra does it on purpose, just to get the over-sized group leader riled up and paying attention to him. Toshiro nearly had a breakdown during the discussion period because his secretary ruined his dry-cleaning and Renji regaled us with a basketball tale.
Strangely, I miss the blue-haired idiot's presence already and I've only known him for a couple days. Class just isn't the same without him, I guess.
Ichigo~
- 2
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Diary of a Grown Ass Man