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Kaleidoscope	By : severuslover Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3200 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach and I make no money what so ever from writing this

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Renji stepped down off the bed, hands akimbo, and surveyed his newly decorated room. He had never felt the urge to paint like this. As many colorful scenes as he could conjure from his imagination, he committed to paper. It felt liberating, to just paint what he wanted without having to worry about anyone judging his technique or artistic eye. To just paint for himself. Because he wanted to.

He then took it upon himself to stick them up on every inch of his room that he could reach, to liven up his beige room. Because let’s face it, if he was expected to create masterpieces it certainly wasn’t going to be inspired by this boring room, and he couldn’t just splash on lime green paint on people’s walls so he did the next best thing.

He realized he was taking a lot of liberty here but was pleased at the reaction it warranted form Ayasegawa; a mix of unsuccessfully masked shock and disbelief when he opened the door and his eyes traveled around the room. Renji wanted to laugh at the foreign expression on his face. He looked like he wanted to shout or hit Renji with the tea tray, but the next second he was back to looking bored again. Renji suspected he just settled for tattling to Kuchiki the first chance he got.

After the breakfast debacle last week, Renji found himself at the mercy of the manservant’s snide remarks and knowing smiles, accusing him of making ‘googley’ eyes at his master all week long.

The horrible part was that Renji couldn’t deny it, and when it was shoved in his face, his shame was evident. He could not find a sly retort or rebuttal.

Ayasegawa picked at this weakness, making fun of him every chance he got. He even had to endure an awkward conversation in which he was asked about his sexual preferences. He respectfully chose not to answer as it was none of this butler’s damn business, but it did make him think a bit.

His dating record was sparse, so sparse in fact that he could count all the lovers he had with one hand.

He wasn’t sure if this was pathetic or commendable. There wasn’t a pattern to the people he chose, nor were they restricted to one gender or type. In his mind, individuals were divided into two categories; people who he felt attracted to, and people he did not.

He couldn’t label himself as anything because he didn’t even know what he was or what he wanted. All he knew, was that there was never that… connection, that spark that made him go ‘this person holds my heart’, and the relationships fizzled as quickly as they were ignited.

As corny as it sounded, he felt something that morning. It wasn’t love but he couldn’t find a name for it. It made him feel… weird. Maybe the dry spell was taking its toll. And who even said Kuchiki preferred men? Men like that liked to have a trophy wife hanging off their arm and sucking their accounts dry to groom themselves while striking the match of jealousy in all lower life forms.

On the upside though, breakfast with the man of the house became a frequent thing much to his pleasure and displeasure. This meant that he could not sleep in, as he was so accustomed to doing for all his natural life, but he did look forward to these brief chances to sit and talk with him, to stare at the subtle and very rare changes in his facial features when he talked. He liked to mentally play the game ‘how long can Kuchiki keep a neutral look on his face’. Renji had the feeling that even if he dropped dead at the damn breakfast table Kuchiki would only raise an eyebrow. Well, who was he to judge? It probably came in handy at those boring rich folk get-togethers.

He would’ve never imagined that the cold man could have so much to ask him though. He was bombarded with questions ranging from his background to if he had a special lady in his life. It made him feel special. Even if Kuchiki was pretending to be interested and just humoring him for conversation sake, he felt like he was interesting. Someone wanted to know about his boring life. He hated to admit it – it made him feel like a child or a puppy – but he wanted the master to pat his head and tell him he was a good boy.

Yesterday, at yet another breakfast, he was told that along with being officially recognized as Kuchiki’s apprentice, he was to submit a new painting to a gallery owned by a close acquaintance of Kuchiki’s, to see if he’d taken in anything from his last failure.

What could he have taken in! Kuchiki didn’t teach him anything yet! But instead of arguing this point, he conceded. He was an apprentice now.

He decided to put a little thought into it, and then a whole lot. Or maybe this was his way of showing he was incredibly nervous. He’d spent the whole week painting but now that it was time to get serious and submit something, he was over thinking it. The ideas didn’t come as naturally as they did when he was playing around.

In the end, it would take him a little over eight days to decide and come up with a concept. As September was gradually fading into October and getting chillier by the minute, he decided a warm painting would be successful. He got to work painting a beach scene from memory.

It was a summer a couple of years back when he and Rukia had gone with two other friends. It was one of the memories that stood out for him because of the blistering heat that August. After moving to the city and not being able to go to the beach for a number of years, he couldn’t wait to dip his toes in the cold, crisp waves. When he got off the bus – bum sore for sitting so long – the sight of the sea felt like a dream. He could not remember ever seeing a bluer ocean with so many diamonds shimmering on its back, courtesy of the sizzling hot sun. Distended clouds hung in the sky, the salty air a cool caress to his flushed face.

He put as much effort as he could to make it something he would be proud to put his name on. After five days of constantly changing the scene, tearing up drafts he was unhappy with and tweaking the blues of the sky and ocean, he was as satisfied as he would ever be for the moment, and sent it off. Byakuya was away and regretfully could not see it before it was gone, but Renji felt confident.

The anxious panic that followed was worse than coming up with the idea. He would pace around his room, staring off into the distance in a state of bewilderment ‘Thinking of your romantic endeavors’ Ayasegawa would put in snidely. Instead of being irritated as was per usual, the thought of Byakuya only added to the dread.

At last the day came and Renji was a bundle of nerves. His feet seemed to have forgotten how to work. He tripped several times before making it down the stairs, his knees in a state of fresh pineapple jello. The sharp cramps plaguing his stomach sent him to the bathroom three times for the morning. And it was only 7:30 am.

Truth be bluntly told, he was scared out of his mind and as shameful as it was to say, this was when he missed Rukia most. She would take some of the pain out of it by comforting him, then delivering the news as delicate as one would a newborn. Kuchiki did not look like he would indulge such eccentricities.

Standing just outside the doors to the dining room, he inhaled and exhaled several times, mentally preparing himself to face the guillotine.

“What’s the matter?” Ayasegawa questioned, standing behind him, breakfast tray laden with scones in hand.

Startled, Renji exhaled loudly before looking down at his shoes and whispering. “Nothing.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Abarai-kun. Don’t fret too much about it.”

Renji’s head snapped up, his mouth open quizzically. “Did you just… encourage me?” He asked aghast.

“Me? I’d never do such a thing, even for a man who looked like he was about to encounter a shinigami behind those doors.” With a faint smile the butler opened the door. Renji, following suit without paying attention, walked right into the door that Ayasegawa had purposely let go behind him.

God how he hated this man.

When he took his seat at the table he was surprised to find that Kuchiki wasn’t there yet. Never in their two weeks of breakfast dates – yes, he called them dates – had Kuchiki ever arrived after him. And Renji was almost half an hour late to boot.

After about ten minutes he came strolling in without a Good morning. Maybe he slept in? He looked disheveled – or what by his standards counted as disheveled. His cravat was missing, the top button on his shirt undone and Renji spotted a crease in his suit. A few strands of his hair actually dared to sit on his forehead. Surely this was a sign of the apocalypse?

He still held his head high and proud, which Renji figured he would do even if he were wearing a pink tutu and diamond tiara.

But something was off.

Spending so much time in his company made Renji ever so slightly tuned to his mannerisms.

Kuchiki was irritated. He could feel it.

It may have sounded crazy to anyone else, after all, he still looked like his normal self, but this was the man Renji stared at for an hour each day.

“Hey, did something happen to him?” Renji whispered to Ayasegawa when he bent over to put his food in front of him.

“No, why?”

“He seems angry at something.”

Ayasegawa looked at Renji quite oddly but did not reply. Renji thought about just asking the man if something was wrong. That wouldn’t be too far out of bounds would it?

He spotted the newspaper on the table and froze, suddenly remembering the pit in his stomach.

Kuchiki sat without a word and drew the paper close to him.

“Er… so how’d ya sleep? Ya seem really well rested,” he asked awkwardly, speaking badly out of fright (he’d been practicing to speak properly).

Was there really a need to look at that blasted paper before they even talked or pretended to eat!

Kuchiki ignored him. Renji counted down from ten in his mind, inhaling and exhaling deeply, covering his mouth. Dear god he was gonna puke all over this white table like a little bitch.

Kuchiki read silently and then looked at him.

Renji smiled crookedly. “W-What’s the verdict,” he asked through clenched teeth and buttocks when the man said nothing for whet felt like hours.

He let the silence swell torturously until Renji was well and dead inside from an implosion.

“Bland, ordinary, basic art school homework, amateurish.”

The smile literally dropped right off his face, his eyes widening. His heart raced a mile in his chest, his belly tickling as if eels were writhing within him, looking for an escape.

“I should have known you didn’t have what it takes,” he said coldly.

Renji felt sick to his stomach. There wasn’t a trace of the anger that was usually in him when his critics bit him in the ass. As much as he wanted to get a good review, he knew that this time, it wasn’t for himself. It was only so that Kuchiki would praise him (and maybe offer him a teeny smile?). He wanted to make him feel proud in a strange way.

The words stung as they always did, but more because of the detached look on his face, the disappointment as he seared holes with his glare. Well that was the second ever expression he showed.

Renji certainly wouldn’t call them friends. He had on his big boy pants, and didn’t need any coddling. But after the weeks spent together talking amicably and building a friendly atmosphere between them, the harsh attitude hurt him.

“I’m sorry. I-I tried. I put everything I had into it. How about a ‘good first try. Don’t listen to critics too much and try harder next time’ huh?” His voice cracked much to his embarrassment. Frustrated, hopeless tears sprung to his eyes faster than he would’ve liked. Could he do nothing right?!

“I have no time to flatter the talentless. If you want flattery, earn it by painting something worthy of it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry I’m so fuckin useless! I bet your left toe could paint better than I can right? I worked my ass off on that, to make you see that I’m serious about this.”

He pushed his char back roughly, taking in Kuchiki’s still stony expression. Nothing Renji said had moved him. Ayasegawa’s apologetic and pitying face as he looked back and forth between them, unsure if interjecting himself was a wise idea, was the last thing he saw blurrily, before storming out.

~~~~~

Renji pushed the large front door open and took the steps in long strides, reaching the gravel driveway in seconds. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked until he reached the large iron gates. He scaled them with some trouble and walked aimlessly through the connecting forest. He didn’t know where he was going or even if he was going in the right direction to reach the main road.

Is this running away from home? He laughed bitterly in his head at the absurdity.

He’d never felt so dejected and humiliated in his life. For him to actually be on the verge of tears from cruel words was something he’d never experienced. He longed for his antidepressants. To feel numb. To feel nothing. He no longer felt pumped or motivated. Only tired and defeated.

Evening found him sitting with his back against the bark of a rather large tree, tired from the hours of walking and not finding anything. He was so hungry he was seeing spots in front of his eyes.

Byakuya crossed his mind, but it wasn’t the stoic handsome face he was accustomed to seeing in his thoughts, but the cold glare he’d received that morning. It made him flinch and renewed his determination to escape. He didn’t need to take this shit.

He got up, and trudged forward again, intent on never laying eyes on him again unless it was on tv. Maybe some unknown force could feel the sliver of hesitation within him, his reluctance to go back to being nothing, with nowhere to go, because when the forest eventually thinned out and he felt like celebrating finding the road, he found himself face to face with the large gates of the Kuchiki mansion.

He sighed.

If he could at least get his backpack and beg for a sandwich and directions to the road he would be satisfied. It didn’t feel good being back there again. He knew that after his fit that morning he was pretty much out on his ass again. Would they even spare him a bit of food or let him in for that matter?

Walking up the steps he never wanted to see again hours ago, he saw a strange car in the corner of the driveway.

~~~~~~~

Renji crept inside; looking left to right for any signs of Kuchiki. His plan was to sneak into the kitchen to grab what food he could, and then leave. It would be too awkward to have to face him.

The coast was clear. He tip toed inside as quietly as he could almost making it to the stairs, when he heard voices floating out from a room with the door slightly ajar off to his left.

Go, get the food and leave! His mind kicked and screamed under the chokehold of his curiosity. But curiosity was a two hundred and fifty pound Mexican wrestler, and won with ease.

He quietly crept over to the door and peeked in through the crack. Kuchiki was standing in what looked like a cozy sitting room – cozy not meaning small, but cramped with items in varying shades of brown, gold and brass, making it feel warm. Renji never remembered seeing this door open before. The décor was totally different to the rest of the house.

First off, all the items looked like antiques or old collectables from the nineteenth century, unlike any of the newer things Byakuya had. And it had color. There was a plush looking brown couch with gold patterns woven into it and matching single chair positioned opposite each other, but with enough proximity to allow intimate conversation. A wooden table with a brass candelabra sat between them on a large rug that encompassed half the room, and bookcases lined the walls with books that had seen better days.

In the middle, and in direct view of Renji, stood a brick fireplace, a large fire roaring within. The room was very elegant in a different sort of way.

“I thought you would know me better than that by now,” Kuchiki said, sipping what looked like red wine from a glass. The man standing next to him had his eyes on the crackling flames while Kuchiki’s eyes unblinkingly rested on him.

“I’m just, I’m worried about you, Byakuya.” Renji’s pancreas flew into his mouth. Who the fuck was this that was on first name basis with him?

“It would take idle gossip to bring you to my door, sensei?”

The man turned to look at him, his eyebrows drawn in a sad grimace.

If Renji thought he was shocked before, he was even more so when he got a glimpse of the man’s face.

“It’s so much more than that, Byakuya-kun,” he said quietly, sincerely.

Renji was so intent on the business of eavesdropping; he didn’t hear Ayasegawa come up behind him. In true Ayasegawa fashion he snuck up and yelled ‘boo!’ loudly in Renji’s ear.

“Ahh!” he shrieked in alarm, losing his precarious balance and falling ungracefully through the door and flat on his face.

Ayasegawa stepped over him.

“Presenting the ever refined, budding artist, Abarai Renji,” he announced to the room with a smirk.

Renji was accustomed to being discomfited, but as he held up his head, his face turned red. This was the last person he would ever want to embarrass himself in front of. He scrambled to his feet.

The man standing beside Kuchiki – who was presently shaking his head and covering his eyes with his hand in what Renji could only assume, was mortification– was a wide eyed, Ukitake Jushiro.

Renji’s idol in the flesh. He could not believe his eyes.

He was just as elegant looking as Byakuya. The two of them put together made Renji feel like the vagrant who’d stumbled his way inside the house by mistake.

Though an illness had prematurely turned his hair white, it could not have been more beautiful to Renji, falling out of his low ponytail and over his shoulders, contrasting with his black long-sleeved shirt and black slacks. His face was benevolent; his eyes rounded in surprise made him look youthful and lively.

His manner was a far cry from what one would imagine a rich, successful artist would be like. He was humble, the complete opposite of haughty Byakuya. He smiled broadly at Renji who nearly swooned.

“Who is this colorful young man?” He asked Byakuya, who raised an eyebrow at the different colored autumn leaves stuck to Renji’s jeans and in his hair.

“This is my new apprentice.”

Ukitake turned to look at Byakuya, eyebrows raised, and then back to Renji with a slow smile. “My name is – ”

“I know who you are. I’m a huge fan of your work oh my god, I think I may be dead and in heaven,” he gushed.

Ukitake laughed good naturedly. “I’m flattered.”He sat on the two-seater, patting the space next to him.

“This is my teach – former teacher,” Byakuya corrected himself, taking single chair, feet lapped. “I see there’s no need for more of an introduction.”

Renji mouthed the words ‘wow’ and went to take a seat beside him to bask in his brilliance. He noticed his feet weren’t lapped but open a comfortable distance, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. He was so much more relatable that Richie Rich over there. He angled his head to the side to look at Renji, hazel eyes shining.

“Your painting, The Fallen, made me want to paint, to be just like you. I saw it when I was a kid and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It made me cry,” Renji said matter-of-factly.

Ukitake laughed again, picking a leaf off his shirt. “It takes a perceptive soul to be moved to tears.”

Renji felt like a kid who’d met the astronaut he had stuck up in his room, the one he looked up to and wanted to be like when he grew up. Awestruck.

“I saw some of your work too, Abarai kun,” he said conversationally, taking a long gulp from his glass, tucking some hair that was falling into his eyes behind his ear.

“You did huh?” Renji rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what to think of that.

“I liked your Sea &Sky painting you submitted. It was very honest and… beautiful.” Byakuya who’d been idly looking out the window snapped his head around as subtly as he could at this statement. “You can tell it came straight from your heart. It’s sure to brighten the day of anyone who looks at it.”

“Thank you. I – ”he stumbled on his words, his throat feeling choked up with all the emotions he’d felt today and was still feeling. Someone enjoyed the painting that neither his teacher nor the critics liked. He wasn’t wasting his time.

“I get the worst reviews.” He let out a small watery laugh. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” Goddamit if he cried in front of his idol he’d never forgive himself. It just felt good to have someone that wasn’t Rukia or immediate family, give him a genuine compliment.

To his surprise, Ukitake looked at him gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Abarai-kun. There will always be at least one person, someone out there loves your work. Critics are there to thicken your skin. If you love it, don’t give it up.”

If he’d gotten a response like this earlier in the morning he wouldn’t have felt like shit the whole day. Renji smiled. He caught a glimpse of Byakuya, who had not stopped staring at his former sensei.

“I should take my leave now,” he said, standing and placing his empty glass on the table. Byakuya stood as well, following Ukitake to the door that led to the foyer.

They stood close together as Ukitake removed his jacket from the coat rack by the door.

“Never hesitate to call upon me if need be, Byakuya-kun,” Ukitake said softly to his former student, touching a lock of hair that curled at his nape and staring intently into his eyes. The eyes were searching for something, but Kuchiki Byakuya was hardy a transparent man.

Byakuya showed no signs of the slight shiver.

“Except if the need is for you?”

“Now,now, don’t say that. You need a fire to keep you warm, not a burnt out old candle like me.” He placed a hand on the man’s heart, smiling down at him.

“I will always – ”

“Abarai-kun, would you please escort me out?” He peered around to ask, sliding on his jacket. Whether it was intentional, or because Kuchiki maybe was speaking too softly, he cut him off mid- sentence.

Byakuya studied him a moment longer before backing away. Unlike him, his sensei was as clear as crystal, and could not hide his misery anymore than he could contain his smiles.

Renji, who’d been in a state of bliss so encompassing that he’d missed the tension, nodded and walked with him to the door.

“Do you plan on continuing your apprenticeship?”

Renji hesitated. “If I can.” He did not forget this morning and the consequences it would have. Ukitake-san being there proved a distraction. Now that he was leaving, Renji could feel the hellfire licking at his boots.

“Of course, Byakuya – kun wouldn’t hold it against you. Just –” He glanced back inside the house. “Just be careful. And paint as much of those bright pictures as you can for him.”

Renji was confused but nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Abarai-kun. I hope to see you again.”

Renji debated whether he should go back into the drawing room where Kuchiki remained, or continue with his afore mentioned plan to escape with his life.

But surely things had been mended? Byakuya had brought the man he admired more than anything to cheer him up. Was it an apology for that morning? Renji would take the peace offering. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him. To think Byakuya actually listened to him.

With his tail tucked between his legs he went back to find Byakuya gazing into the depths of the fire, his shoulders tense.

He swallowed his pride for the umpteenth time in weeks and bowed his head.

“I’m sorry!” He shouted, eyes scrunched tight.

Kuchiki turned and walked slowly to stand in front him.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his eyes burning, “I’m sorry I was rude to you this morning. I’m sorry I ran out. I really am. I know you’re tryin’ ta help me. I still want you to teach me. I’ve got alot to learn. P-Please?”

It remained silent but he could feel his gaze.

“Your dinner is in the dining room. Eat before it gets cold,” he said finally, stepping past him.

“Yes, taicho.” This time he did not stop the tear that escaped.

Kuchiki knew he would come back.

In the dining room was Renji’s breakfast and lunch, covered with plastic – he smiled at this –next to his dinner which still had steam rising. He ate gratefully, warmed by the wonderful evening that rejuvenated him and negated the horrible events of the day.

He held a new fondness for his sensei, than man who he thought arranged that wonderful surprise for his sake.
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Kaleidoscope