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I Hate You, I Don't	By : GrimmUlquigrrrl Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ulquiorra Views: 1287 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Grimmjow hated being looked down on.

"Out of my way, trash," Schiffer said coolly as he stepped around Grimmjow in the hall, and immediately rage flared in the bluenette. He stepped into Schiffer's way belligerently.

"And if I don't?" he sneered. They were chest to chest, and Schiffer had to tilt his head up to look Grimmjow in the eye with that intolerably empty look. "What's a goody two shoes like you doing out of class anyway?"

"I could ask you the same question," Ulquiorra intoned. "Now, I suggest you remove yourself from my space immediately before you find yourself in a perilous situation." Grimmjow's smirk fell. Son of a bitch! How dare he speak to Grimmjow that way? Grimmjow was easily the physically stronger of them, and no one was around to see in anything unfortunate happened. No one cared about this piece of shit anyway.

"What, are you intimidated?" Grimmjow asked, taking another step in, and Schiffer reflexively stepped back. "You are, aren't you? You know I could kick your skanky pale ass, and there's no one here to help you if I do. You'd better not piss me off."

"Someone as degenerate as you is always 'pissed off,'" Schiffer said levelly, and damn if it shouldn't have sounded mocking-but it didn't, because this was Schiffer and Schiffer didn't know the meaning of feelings. "I will say it once more: remove yourself from my personage."

"Don't fucking order me around!" Grimmjow shouted, balling his fist for the first time he thought he saw something cross Schiffer's face, an emotion, and he stared a second too long. Had he broken Schiffer's perfect mask? It had only been for a second, but what he'd seen was fear. It was gone so swiftly that Grimmjow doubted he'd seen it, but he was going to say he had anyway. He smirked.

"What, you worried?" he grinned, stepping in again. "I don't blame you. After all, I'm taller, I'm stronger, I know how to fight…and I ain't sissy enough to avoid this fight."

"Ain't is not proper English," Schiffer chastised. "The correct term is am not." Grimmjow burst into howling laughter. Seriously? This son of a bitch was about to get his face bashed in and he was worried about grammar? What a fucking pansy! Grimmjow clutched his sides as he roared, bending over and letting his teeth show.

"Y-you're kidding!" he barked. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"I would not joke about grammar," Schiffer said coolly, attempting to step around Grimmjow from where he was now pinned against the lockers. Grimmjow cut him off quickly, still chortling deep in his stomach.

"Sure ya wouldn't, yer fucking perfect," he chuckled. "But apparently you're not as smart as you thought-it woulda been the perfect time to deck me while I was laughing. You coulda gotten away. Are you a masochist, or do you just not wanna break the rules? You know I'm gonna beat you to a pulp, right?"

"No you won't," Schiffer said.

"Yeah? Why not?"

""Because no one is here to see."

Grimmjow blanched. Wait, what? Suddenly the emptiness of the hallways loomed around him, the vacant air seemed heavy. There was no one. Wasn't that ideal? If anyone saw Grimmjow kick the shit out of Schiffer he'd get in major trouble-but people either feared or respected Grimmjow too much to say anything, and besides, Grimmjow knew that Schiffer would tell anyway. Was it really worth the trouble he'd get into if no one saw him do it? A fight didn't feel like a fight unless people were crowding around and rooting in the background. Grimmjow slammed Schiffer against the locker, and Schiffer winced.

"You think I give a fuck?!" Grimmjow yelled, getting inches from Schiffer's face to glare into his passive eyes. "You think I'm so shallow that I care if someone sees? I don't! Why would I? I don't need anyone to tell me when I do something right or wrong!"

"Have I hit a nerve?" Schiffer asked tonelessly. Grimmjow growled, grabbing Schiffer's perfectly pressed shirt and yanking him closer.

"I'm gonna hit you!" Grimmjow spat.

"You are so transparent," Schiffer sighed. Grimmjow threw him against the lockers again.

"Says the sissy bitch!" Grimmjow shouted, raising his hand.

"Grimmjow!" a woman's voice called from behind, and Grimmjow whirled around. Oh shit. "How many times have I told you not to pick fights with other students? My office, now!" Grimmjow shot a glare over his shoulder at Schiffer as he followed the principal away, making sure Schiffer knew this wasn't over.

~!~

Grimmjow sat in detention, wanting like nothing else to hit something. He simmered, but he planned. Tomorrow he would launch an attack on Schiffer-and no one would be there. He had to prove to that piece of shit that he was wrong about him. Grimmjow didn't need encouragement to kick his sorry pale ass.

The grey room left him plenty of room to think, especially since talking and technology were not allowed. Grimmjow spent the whole hour fantasizing about how he was going to break Ulquiorra's teeth and dislocate his knees and pull his hair so hard his scalp bled; he could hardly wait. It was near impossible to sit still and not fidget or constantly crack his knuckles in anticipation of the fight.

The second the hour was up he bolted from his desk and down the hall to the training room. He was part-and the star-of their school's boxing team, so the rooms were open to him at all times. He spent thirty minutes just pounding the living shit out of the punching bag and imagining it was Schiffer's face.

The next day he purposefully woke up an hour early to be at school by 6:30-when he knew Schiffer would be in the library, and alone. Schiffer always showed up by 6:00 to be there when the doors opened, though nobody knew why. Grimmjow didn't care. All that mattered to him was that he could drag Schiffer outside and pound on him without anyone seeing him. He wanted to leave Schiffer a bloody mess on the sidewalk, broken and unconscious, and instill such fear in him that he would never tell anyone who did it to him.

Grimmjow shoved his hands in the pockets of his favorite blue hoody as he walked down the hallway, grinning like a madman. There was gonna be blood, oh so soon…Despite his thrumming energy Grimmjow silently slipped into the library, containing himself as he hid behind the rows of bookshelves. There sat Schiffer, peacefully oblivious to the danger he was in, and like a big cat Grimmjow crouched to watch him. He wanted to savor this tingling feeling before he broke every bone in Schiffer's skinny body.

Schiffer sat at a table in the middle of the library, completely alone in a sea of empty chairs, and Grimmjow sneered. Schiffer had to know Grimmjow would come back for him, and yet he opted to be solitary instead of seeking safety in numbers. Did he really hate people that much, or was he just stupid? He couldn't honestly think Grimmjow would let this go.

Yet there he sat, nose buried in a book, completely unaware of the world around him. That would be his downfall. Still, he looked almost…content, to be alone like that with a book, surrounded by bookshelves and tables and that funny library, old-book smell. Why the hell would he feel that way? Libraries had far too many nooks and crannies where some ill-meaning person could lay in waiting, too many shelves that could fall and crush you, too many thick-bound books that would soak up the sound of approaching feet. Libraries had to be one of the most dangerous places Grimmjow could think of. Schiffer really must have been a moron.

Still, it was interesting to see him actually enjoying something. He looked attentive and involved, not aloof and above everything like he normally was, and Grimmjow squinted to read the title of the book. It must have been pretty good to drag Schiffer down to normal human level. Grimmjow realized he might have discovered a weakness.

He'd had enough of standing, so he ducked behind the shelves silently. The tingling had turned into a buzz, like a hive of angry wasps under his skin, and he was thrumming for violence. He was so ready to just punch the shit out of his distracted prey he could taste it like blood on his tongue. Oh, wait, he'd bitted his cheek in his sleep and it had opened again. It didn't matter though; the metallic taste made him all the more pumped for the beating he was about to give out.

He snuck up completely silently on the balls of his now-bare feet, making sure to stay in Schiffer's blind spot, but the dipshit didn't loo up once. There was another thing about libraries-it was dangerous to get sucked into a book like that. A lesson Schiffer was about to learn.

Grimmjow's hand shot out and latched onto Schiffer's bony shoulder like a lamprey eel, clamping down painfully. Grimmjow expected Schiffer to jump up and whirl around, taking a fighting stance the way he was known to when startled. He didn't. He froze, and Grimmjow could feel Schiffer's muscles bunch under his hand. The book fell to the ground, Schiffer's page lost, as Schiffer convulsed-Grimmjow knew this pose; it was the stance of a rabbit caught by the back of the neck by a fox. It was a stance of total, paralyzing fear. Grimmjow knew it well.

His hand loosened in surprise, and Schiffer seemed to come back into himself immediately. He shot up the way Grimmjow had expected, his mask almost perfectly in place, but there was fear in his eyes and his pose was sloppy. He breathed heavily and shook as if he'd just escaped a near-death situation, and his jaw was clenched tight. Grimmjow didn't know how to describe it but to say that Schiffer looked like Grimmjow always felt.

Grimmjow started numbly. Schiffer-Ulquiorra Schiffer-had no reason to make that look. Right? It was a look of habitual fear, a learned panic, and Schiffer's life was perfect. There was a moment of shock, when Grimmjow stared with his hand still outstretched, then Schiffer took advantage of Grimmjow's disbelief and backed away. Grimmjow watched him go, not believing what he saw. Suddenly he understood everything.
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I Hate You, I Don't