Did you know that 40% of all victims of severe, physical domestic violence are men in heterosexual relationships? Sure, the media covers the females being cast as the majority of the victims, but who speaks for the men who are trapped in abusive relationships?

In a separate study 63% of men were assaulted and or threatened with a deadly weapon by their partners during arguments.

The number's don't lie.

It's not easy to just retaliate when you're ten times stronger than your lover because if anyone were to be called, you would be considered the wrong one. Even if the police were called or you left to seek help, you would be looked at as an embarrassment, a disgrace, less than a man, or a joke.

The best thing to do is stay and hope with everything you've got that the abuse will stop before things go to far. Besides, as a man you should be able to handle just about anything your woman throws at you and then some. Whether its belittling insults, spiritual assaults, financial dominance, a few choke holds, or even a knife every once and a while, you hold your head up high and take it simply because of the love you have for her. That's what it comes to you love her.

You are a man. You are strong. You can handle this.

Can't you?

The quiet melody of the mom and pop restaurant jingled in his ear while his fingers impatiently tapped at the plywood table as he waited for his order – rephrase that – her order to be called. A breakfast burrito with tomatoes, eggs, cheese, green pepper, and bacon with an orange juice and fried hash browns. The perfect breakfast for a hangover. It's not good to go out and party, get drunk, and come home waking up in your vomit every single night, but then again she's young and beautiful so what's the real harm in it?

"Number 148 your order is ready, number 1-4-8 your order is ready."

He nearly jumped out of his seat as his order was finally called, though he did run up to the counter to grab the brown, greasy, paper bag with the small carton of Minute Maid orange juice.

"Arigato!" He spoke in a rush, before jogging out of the restaurant and toward the general direction of his condo.

Wearing pajama pants and a thermal long-tee in ninety-eight degree weather wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to do, but it was for her; she needed it. The sun was soaking through his clothes, and already he was beginning to sweat. His bright orange bangs lowered to cover his eyes as they got damp with sweat as well. One of his maroon eyes closed as the salty sting of the perspiration managed to get in; he brought his wrist up the fluid away, then took the time to check his watch.

"Shit!"

He was gone too long.

He brought the bag against his chest and began to flat-out sprint; he didn't have much time left. Taking two lefts, running through a crosswalk without having any regard to the oncoming car, cutting through some grass, and a sharp left turn he finally made it toward the complex of rather expensive looking condos. Giving gate security a look of anxiousness, they opened up the gates for him and he quickly sped through. Just because he made it through didn't mean he would stop running, he continued his crusade until he finally made it to building 767.

His home.

He panted softly as walked to the door, opening it with a wave of relief washing over him. He made it back in record time. He kicked the door closed, sat his girlfriend's order down on the coffee table and made his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. It atmosphere of silence deeply disturbed him; Rukia wasn't one to just lay quietly if she had a hangover. As he crossed the threshold of the kitchen the slight uneasiness hit his stomach and progressed to it completely twisting into knots at what he saw.

"Rukia what're ya doin' outta bed?" He spoke, all of his strength managing to just seep from his body.

The raven haired female finished snorting a bit of cocaine from her fingernails, sealing the small baggy then concealing the white powder into her small cleavage thereafter. Her large plum eyes were glassy, and the pupils dilated; her chapped lips curving into a twisted grin.

He hated that grin. He hated the way her eyes looked. He hated when she was high.

"The real question is what's her name Ichigo?" Her tone was low, and nonchalant but Ichigo knew how dangerous it was meant to be. He didn't know how to answer so he just looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing up on his forehead.

"Answer me!" She yelled her small fist slamming down on the table.

He took a deep breath, and kept his composure he wasn't going to make things worse. "There is no 'her'. I just came back from getting your food."

"So you think I'm stupid? It doesn't take thirty fucking minutes to get to from here to Sakura's and back on foot."

According to Google Maps, it took about forty five minutes to get there and back on foot. Ichigo had to break a lot of rules just to make it back when he did, but he wouldn't dare say something as bold as that. Not when Rukia was like this.

"There were other people waiting in line, and I know you like your food freshly made so that took a little while too. Rukia, please I promise I just went there and back."

"Okay fine, where's the receipt and change?"

Fuck.

"I told the cashier I wouldn't need it, and I let her keep the change. It was only a few yen anyway."

Her eyes narrowed and soon she was up out of her seat, Ichigo's heart went up into his throat and his heartbeat thumped in his ears. She came toe-to-toe with him, and looked down at her nails before talking again.

"I get it. You're putting it in your secret account so you can leave me. But that's not going to happen because no one else wants, needs, or will treat you as well as I do.

Buotoko.

What kind of woman wants children with someone who has red hair?"

Ichigo lowered his gaze to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck. She was probably right, hell she was his first and only girlfriend he had ever had. It may have been true, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Please...stop. You don't mean what you're saying."

He spoke timidly, as he brought his eyes up to hers. Instantly after he spoke, she brought a knee to his crotch making him fall to the ground in a pained grunt. His hands went down to hold his assaulted manhood as his teeth clenched.

"You are so pathetic. Heh, I actually believe you. There is no 'her' and even if there was, your tiny cock wouldn't do anything to satisfy her. You can't leave me, no matter how much money you save up in you 'secret' account you'll always come crawling back.

And my food better not be cold either."

She stepped over his hunched over body, and into the living room grabbing her meal and heading upstairs to the bedroom. With the loud slam of the bedroom door, he knew that it was safe for him to get up.

Ichigo swallowed back the tears that stung his eyes, whether she meant it or not hearing that from someone you love still hurt. Being attacked like this, was the norm whenever she decided to get high. She was never terrible to him until she started using.

He shakily stood up, walked to the silver chrome freezer grabbing a back of frozen mixed vegetables. After bringing the baggy between his legs he sat down at the table. His throat hurt, and a bit dry as he swallowed. In all honesty he forgot the one thing he went into the kitchen to get; a simple glass of water from running one point two miles in less than ten minutes.

They had been together a total of four years and up to this point there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was hopelessly in love with Rukia Kuchiki. She moved to Karakura Town with her sister Hisana for her last year of high school – that's when they met, and eventually started dating. Hisana was terminally ill and couldn't take being away from Byakuya Kuchiki for long periods of time, so they moved in with him.

Byakuya's father held stocks in just about every business in Karakura Town, so when the man croaked all that money went to Byakuya. He invested it solely in his business, of helping people advise their income and responsibly spend or save it. When Hisana passed away, Byakuya claimed Rukia as his sister, and for legal purposes had her last named changed to his own granting her access to his fortune in the matter of a trust fund.

Ichigo was never in the relationship for the money, he fell in love with Rukia because of how strong, caring, and beautiful that spirit she was. No matter what the situation was she would try to help him and so often she would even get him out of quite a bit of trouble. There was no one he could have ever met that would quite match up to her.

All of it changed the year Hisana passed away; the same year Ichigo started his sophomore year of university. She completely transformed into a different person. She cut her hair to a short bob that barely curled past her ears. Her clothes got much tighter, shorter, and suggestive. She went out clubbing with her rich friends, that Ichigo didn't speak with. She got really controlling, jealous, and even started swearing at him. It wasn't until a small zip-lock baggy, emptied of what obviously was cocaine was found in her car that he found out what the catalyst in her change was. When Ichigo asked her about it, she punched him in the mouth making him catch a small chunk of his bottom lip in his teeth as a punishment for digging through her things. Of course she was high when she did it, so when he didn't immediately receive an apology soon after he had plans to break up with her. It took her a while to sober up, but when she did an apology was issued along with a white gold plated, tungsten-carbide promise ring with diamonds encrusted on the outer edge. Ichigo instantly forgave her, but deep down he was ashamed of himself and wished he didn't let it go so easy. Things only got relatively worse from that point on, but Ichigo persevered, hoping things weren't going to be like this forever.

After a little more than half an hour the nauseating pain simmered away so, he took the frozen vegetables from his crotch and sat them in the sink to rinse them off in warm water. He took the promise ring off his left ring-finger and just stared at it. Sometimes it felt like she didn't even love him anymore, and when those times came Ichigo felt as if the ring he wore was just a false hope.

Maybe things are just meant to be this way.

Ichigo slipped the piece of cool piece of jewelry back on his finger, grabbing the half thawed package from the sink and sitting it on the counter; may as well have cooked it later on, but right now he seriously needed that glass of water. He grabbed a glass, and pressed it against the ice/water dispenser of the refrigerator and watched as the fluid quickly filled his glass. He put the glass up to his lips graciously sipping it, his eyes closed as those sips quickly turned into quenching gulps. The cold water trickled down his dry throat, and a small bit managed to sneak past the corners of his mouth as he finished it up. He sat the glass down on the counter top wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When he turned around he watched Rukia slowly stalk down the stairs. She was no longer wearing the paper towel she called a dress, but instead one of his faded t-shirts and Chappy Bunny panties. Her short hair was clipped up in a bun, and her face was clean of all makeup that she had on. Not to mention there was a half eaten burrito in her hand.

He kept silent as she walked into the kitchen, but when she approached him and wrapped her arms around him he sighed. She always did this. He looked down into her eyes seeing that they were back to normal and staring back up at him apologetically. He almost didn't notice the dab of ketchup on her chin.

"Ya got a little..." Ichigo started, but rather finished by wiping the sauce away with his thumb and swiping his tongue over it.

"Thanks." She blushed briefly, subtly tossing her hair to the side with the a slight jerk. "Look Ichigo...I..."

He shook his head placing a hand on her cheek to kiss her lips briefly, then let his other arm swoop around to caress the arch of her back as the kiss broke. "Just say the rest of that burrito is for me, and I'll be happy."

Her violet eyes lit up as she smiled, and she nodded her head. "Deal, but I also have some good news for you." She pulled away from Ichigo to sit her half eaten breakfast on a napkin, and into the microwave.

"What is it babe?" He leaned against the counter-top with his morale completely changed.

"I know how you said you wanted to work again, but I don't want you working at the God-awful candy shop, where all those little high school sluts will – whatever – I talked to Onii-chan, he pulled a few strings and got you an interview with a business associate of his."

Ichigo stayed quiet for a moment as he tried to process what she just told him. "Are you sure you want me to do this? I mean, I don't need to work and I don't mind taking care of the house while you're out."

As the microwave gave it's finalized beeps of the burrito being warm, Rukia carefully grabbed it sitting it on a plate and taking it to the table.

"Of course, you've been so mopey since you quit your old job. I miss that look on your face you would get when you saw me after a long day. Besides, Onii-chan doesn't really do things for the sake of it, I'm sure he's getting something out of it so if you don't want to do it, you'll have to answer to him."

Ichigo picked up the burrito cautiously taking a bite as it was still rather hot, then inwardly rolled his eyes. Of course it wasn't like he had a choice in this either, it seemed that way with just about everything nowadays. When he finally swallowed the bite of burrito he held in his mouth he smiled with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Alright, I'll go."

Rukia wiggled her way into Ichigo's lap, and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. "Great. Call Onii-chan later on to get the details, and make sure you thank him."

"I will." He took a much bigger bite from the burrito, before curling his arm securely around her small framed waist. "I'll be sure to thank you too, I'm making your favorite for lunch."

"Pot stickers?!" She animatedly kicked her small legs with an excited grin on her face.

"Pot stickers."

She pressed a kiss to his lips that time, then wrapped her arms around his neck embracing him. "You're too good to me Ichigo."

This feeling is what Ichigo lived for. Hearing her say things like that, or react the way she did to something as simple as pot stickers helped him hang in there. Each and every time she hit him or said something hurtful, she somehow managed to make up for it; whether it was a promise ring or something simple like the rest of her burrito either way it made Ichigo all the happier. Underneath all the drugs, makeup, and hurtful actions Rukia was still the same woman he fell in love with in high school. No amount of punches she could throw, or combination of degrading names she could call him would ever change the way he truly saw her.

It's not like she was the problem anyway.

If his secretary didn't completely breakdown, and quit a few days ago Grimmjow wouldn't have had to look for a new one. It's truly his own fault for thinking some woman could handle working for him. He had to admit that working without a secretary wasn't as easy it sounded, there was a lot that she left for him to do. Of all times for his secretary to go crazy, it had to be now; these last couple days weren't exactly the best.

He looked outside the window which had been eight stories off the ground, and took another sip of his dry scotch. It's five o'clock somewhere right?

Aside from his secretary being put in the loony bin, he had to break it off with his ex-fiance after finding out the fucker had been stealing from him. Grimmjow really did love the man, he nearly changed who he was completely just to make him happy, and the guy just used him as a good fuck and a quick buck.

The crystal scotch glass he held in his hand began to crack as he tightly gripped it in his clutches; just thinking about him put a bad taste in his mouth. He really should have killed him.

While looking carefully he could see his reflection in the window; his sky blue hair was a mess of natural waves, a pair of thick framed black glasses rested over his cerulean eyes, he had forgotten to shave that morning so a cyan five-o'clock shadow began to form. He didn't wear an overcoat that morning, but simply a white dress shirt tucked into his jet black slacks, with a black and gray striped silk tie and a dark brown leather belt. He even looked pissed off, and drinking liquor this early in the day wasn't going to fix a damn thing. With a deep sigh he sat the glass down on the ledge of his window, staring down at the hundreds of people trying to make it to work; it was only eight o'clock and already people were stuck in rush hour.

Wait.

Something was supposed to happen in a little bit, he fished his smartphone from his pocket and checked his email. He scrolled through the various messages slowly searching for something to jog his memory, though before he could remember exactly what it was there was a faint knock at his door. He didn't look up from the small screen, but only yelled out in response.

"What?!"

When the door creaked open he turned his attention toward the perpetrator. A tall, lanky kid with bright unruly, spiked orange hair, big honey-brown eyes, chocolate scraping colored freckles, wearing a pale blue button-up that looked too big on him, tucked into a pair of dark navy blue slacks and chloroform shined black designer shoes. He looked nervous as all fucks, and he held a manila folder with a cup of Starbucks which trembled slightly in his hand.

"Who the fuck're you?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki. I-I have an interview scheduled for this time with Mr. Jaegerjaques. Do I have the wrong office?"

Shit.

"That's right, you're my eight o'clock." He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "Get in here, you're nearly late."

Grimmjow nearly lost his shit as the kid took a few steps into the office, somehow tripping on his own footing and spilling his coffee all over the folder he had brought. He fought the smirk that threatened to break his professional bearing, and walked over to him to help him up.

"Dammit! I'm really, really sorry! Oh no, I got it all over your carpet, I'll pay to get it cleaned. This is so embarrassing."

Grimmjow honestly tried, but couldn't stop the chuckle that crept up in his throat. He offered the kid a hand up, and he shakily took it standing up. None of the coffee happened to stain his clothes, so it wasn't a complete and total bust.

"Hey, relax. It's all good. Looks like your paperwork got the worst of it."

"It had my references and resume in there, Byakuya told me that's all I needed to bring."

"Don't worry about all that, just have a seat."

"Yes, sir."

When the orangette took his seat, Grimmjow walked over to his side of the desk taking his own seat. He paid special attention to the boy's body language; sat up straight with his hands in his lap, and his lips were pressed closed as he stared forward. He had dark circles underneath his eyes from lack of a few good nights rest, and if he wasn't mistaking himself Grimmjow could have sworn he saw bruises around his neck.

"What's your name again?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Japanese?"

"Half. The other is Irish. My mother's side."

"Weird combination, but makes sense never seen a Japanese man with orange hair and freckles."

"Never seen one with blue hair either."

Grimmjow's eyebrow crooked up, a grin meeting his lips. Ichigo on the other hand turned a bit red, and opened his mouth to apologize, but Grimmjow instantly cut him off.

"How old are ya?"

"My race then my age? Are you allowed to ask me these sorta questions?"

"Whose gonna stop me? It's my enterprise. I hate repeatin' myself so answer me Ichigo."

"Twenty-two."

"Where didja work before?"

"At a candy shop."

"What happened?"

"I quit."

"Why?"

Ichigo took a few seconds to think about his answer, and looked at his hands.

"I didn't like it there."

Grimmjow knew he was lying just because of the change in his body language, but right now wasn't really the time to call him out. There was something different about this one, he didn't want to drive him away, not without figuring out what his deal was that is.

"Whaddya expect to accomplish by workin' for me?"

"I dunno."

"Where do ya see yourself in five years?"

Ichigo gave a puzzled look shrugging his shoulders, his eyes once again at his hands.

"I dunno."

"Where did you graduate high school from?"

"Karakura High."

"Accomplishments?"

"Valedictorian; graduated with a four point eight, and a full ride scholarship to any college I wanted to go to."

"Where did you go?"

"Waseda University."

"Yeah? Waseda is my alma mater. What's your major?"

"Biomedical engineering."

"Impressive. Got your degree?"

"Not yet."

"Where do you live?"

"Karakura Town."

"You came all the way to Tokyo for an interview, but you don't know what you can accomplish by workin' here?"

Ichigo squirmed in his seat. "Byakuya went out of his way to get me this interview. The least I could do is show up."

Something was holding Ichigo back, and Grimmjow knew for a fact that he wouldn't get anything out of him like this. There was no point in asking for clarification, because he could tell the kid was hiding something. He didn't seem like a bad guy, but he lacked confidence. Grimmjow could tell that Ichigo was a lot more than what he sold himself for, but someone or something was suppressing him. One simply does not just get into Waseda University and drop out before their major was completed, it was one of the best schools in all of Japan.

Regardless of what he was hiding, Grimmjow liked him and was curious to find out more about him. There was another side to this kid and he determined to see it.

Grimmjow stood up offering a polite half-smirk. "I don't think I have anything else for you right now."

Ichigo sighed shaking his head briefly then stood up. "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Jaegerjaques."

"Wasn't a waste of time, I wouldn't say that at all. I definitely want ya back for another interview. You'll be hearin' from me real soon kid." He reached his hand out to offer Ichigo a hand shake.

Ichigo's expression brightened at that moment, then he shook hands with Grimmjow before taking his departure.

For some reason when Ichigo left, he strangely felt a lot better. Given, his forty-two thousand dollar carpet had a coffee stain on it, he may have just found a new secretary.

He tossed the empty Starbucks cup in the wastebasket, and picked up his soiled manila folder. Nothing at all was legible so he threw it out as well, then he walked up to his window once more staring outside. He pulled out his phone and pressed the first number he had placed on speed dial, after no more than two rings the man on the other line picked up.

"Yes?"

"Hello Shawlong, I want you to do me a favor."

"What is it Mr. Jaegerjaques?"

Grimmjow looked down at the flash of orange amongst the crowd of hundreds of other men and women.

"Find out everything you can about Ichigo Kurosaki. Follow him if you must, but I want to know anything and everything about this kid."

"Will do boss."

Was it wrong for him to admire yet hate a man he just met?

Grimmjow was confident, strong, bold, intelligent, cocky, and just so sure of himself. He didn't seem too much older than Ichigo, and he had his own enterprise. Where as Ichigo was twenty-two, didn't even have his own driver's license, didn't finish school, stayed in a home with a drug addicted volatile woman, and didn't even have a thousand yen to his name.

Rukia was right, he was pathetic.

Ichigo was surprised when Grimmjow said he wanted him back for another interview, there was nothing special about him. He was a nobody. Rukia knew it, he knew it, and Grimmjow definitely knew it. He truly didn't know if he even wanted to go to the second interview, he didn't have anything else he could offer.

He would just be an embarrassment to himself and to Byakuya for setting him up. What was really embarrassing was the personal hit at his red hair; yes Ichigo fucking knew the Japanese didn't have red hair. He didn't need to be reminded of it over and over again, he got enough of it at high school, and got more than enough of it from Rukia. He knew his hair was a stupid unnatural color, and he honestly couldn't wait to dye it black so he could feel relatively good about his appearance.

Oh, and lets not forget tripping and spilling coffee all over his paperwork right when he stepped into the office. Fucking smooth. Nice first impression. Could he be any more worthless?

Stop it.

Ichigo held tightly onto the pole until he felt his hand go numb. As he stood in the middle of the subway car his eyes snapped shut and he tried to stop the painful thoughts that were flooding his mind. His jaw clenched tight, and his forehead pressed to the cool metal pole, as he felt a lump in his throat that if he hadn't swallowed would force tears to leak from his eyes.

What had he done to his life?

AN: A review a reader had posted on my other fic: Captivated by Chance, inspired this idea. Its not your typical, 'lets beat up the Strawberry and have Grimmy save him' because we all know that's not how Shawn rolls ;D~ I'm gonna finish Captivated I promise, I'm still working on it. I just had to get this angsty masterpiece off my brain and share it with all you lovelies. Don't forget to drop a review and tell me what you think! Any questions of course will be personally answered ^^.

Take it easy, and thanks for reading!

-Shawn

Buotoko: An insult in Japanese for an extremely ugly male.