warning: (I hate warnings...they take away the surprise element) AU, probable OOC, boyxboy, yet again, quite a lot of angst in this chapter, established relationship, swearing, child-abuse, psychological abuse, But don't let that put you off . Read, if only to tell me how to improve :) If this seems a bit confusing don't worry...all questions will be answered in the long run.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...but hey...I've got over it now...so please don't sue...

Thankyou Holyest of Crap for betaing this thing ^_^

Chapter 5.

"How was it Ichigo,"

"Fine. It was fine," Ichigo said, looking anywhere but at the man before him, sitting at his desk, an eerie smile in place.

"You say that Ichigo, but your posture tells me otherwise,"

Ichigo immediately stood up straight from his hunched over stance, forcing his hands out his pockets and staring straight at the man.

"That's better," Aizen said quietly, his grin growing. Ichigo watched as he gently pushed his glasses up his nose with a slender finger. He felt his eyes drift away and his fingers itch.

"Now tell me truthfully. How did Mr. Jaegerjaques react?" Ichigo shrugged, feeling his shoulders slipping back into their hunched position.

"Seriously? Better then I expected," he said, sliding his hand back into his pocket. Aizen's eyes followed his movement, but he glared back, daring him to say anything.

"Was he angry?" Aizen asked. Ichigo could tell he was aching for his notebook to scribble the conversation down. He guessed it was a psychiatrist thing.

"Yeah. Course he was," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Violently angry?" Aizen asked. Ichigo quickly shook his head.

"No. Not really," he said.

"Has he asked you anything about the tapes?" the man asked, leaning forward slightly. Ichigo thought back to the night before.

"Not really...he asked why I was still seeing...you," Ichigo replied, catching himself before he said 'shrink'.

"What did you tell him?" the man asked. Ichigo furrowed his brow.

"That I had 'trust issues'" he said, his fingers itching to bunny quote the words. Aizen's smile grew.

"Ah, yes. Trust issues. I was surprised that you've lasted this long with him," the man said slyly. Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Only that I've seen many people who have been through similar experiences find themselves unable to formulate a long lasting relationship. Their trust issues became a barrier for them," the man said, looking at Ichigo pointedly.

"Have you found yourself having barriers in your relationship recently?"

Ichigo grit his teeth.

"No," he growled. Aizen made a noise of acknowledgement.

"Well it's obvious you have issues with it if you yourself can't tell him about your past," the man said. Ichigo shook his head.

"No. It's completely different and you know it," he said. Aizen didn't reply.

"You had some issues at the start of the relationship" he stated after a few seconds uncomfortable silence.

"I listened to some later tapes," he said at Ichigo's questioning stare.

"I presume your going to play him these?" he asked.

"What?" Ichigo said, slightly confused.

"The tapes of what happened after the incidents in your household," he said.

"What? When I went to college?" Ichigo asked. Aizen nodded slightly. He thought about it.

"Not really," he said after a moment's contemplation.

"So you're going to play your boyfriend the tapes of the incident and before, and none of the tapes afterwards?" he asked. Ichigo nodded, feeling slightly less sure.

"None of the tapes which show your recovery? Only the tapes which show your damaged mental state?" the man leant backwards in his chair. Ichigo winced at the 'damaged'. It made him sounds broken.

"What are you saying," he asked unable to stop the accusing tone that escaped his lips.

"Saying? I'm saying nothing. It's just that one would imagine that your boyfriend would appreciate listening to all the tapes, to reassure him shall we say, of your currently stable mental state," the man said. Ichigo looked away.

"Could it be because you mentioned him during the sessions?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes lightly.

"Obviously," he muttered.

"You're referring to the comments you made after first meeting him?"

Ichigo didn't answer.

"I'm sure he won't mind now what you thought of him then. If anything I think he'd be flattered by the comments in the later tapes..."

"I said I hated him," Ichigo said, suspicious to how any flattery could be achieved from the rectangle lumps of plastic.

"In one tape yes. However, in later tapes your opinion of him greatly changes..."

Ichigo flinched slightly as he felt his phone vibrate against his leg.

"Hang on," he said, interrupting man as he fished into his pocket and pulled out the offending item. It was a text.

"Er...I've got a text," he said, waving the phone slightly. Aizen nodded.

"Feel free to answer," he said waving, an amused expression appearing on his face.

"Uh, yeah," Ichigo said, averting his eyes to his phone and flicking it open. It was from Renji. He smiled slightly thinking of his red-headed friend before closing his phone. It could wait. He'd text back later to the pointless text, three words 'I found it', referring to the folder full of art which he had lost (and would not shut up about) the day before.

"A friend?"

Aizen's voice was a sharp reminder that he was in fact in an office with a rather intimidating man. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said, re-pocketing his phone.

"There was no ringtone," the man commented. Inwardly Ichigo sighed. Trust him to pick up on that. No one else did. He tried to play it off.

"Yeah," he said, hoping for a conversation change.

"Any particular reason?"

Damn.

"No," he said, his eyes glinting slightly.

"Okay then," the man said, obviously deciding to drop it.

The truth was the sound was too obvious. He jumped, he couldn't help it. At least with vibrate it wasn't as obvious, the first week with a ringtone he nearly had a heart attack each time he received a text.

"Can I have the tape then?" he said, remembering his reason for being in the office.

"Why of course Ichigo," he said "wouldn't do for you to leave my office...empty handed,"

Ichigo ignored him comments and waited as the man pulled out a case. It was cracked, and the tape inside scribbled across in marker pen. He snatched it, not wanting his hand to linger anywhere near the man's, and unzipped his bag, roughly shoving it in. He didn't thank him. There was no point.

"This tape continues from the last one," the man said, conversationally. Ichigo nodded.

"I expect you may need to leave now Ichigo," the man said, looking at the door behind him.

"Yeah," he replied, a sense of relief flooding him as he made his way to the door. There always was. This room made him uneasy. Or maybe it was the man in the room. Either way he associated the room with the man, and the man with the room, meaning an intense discomfort was always felt when he was there.

He walked out, flinching at the creak and walked past the absent desk towards the exit.

His hands automatically found his pocket and bagstrap, one burying deep into the fabric and the other clenching around the strap. It was fine. He'd done it thousands of times before. Down the street and past the shop. He found himself slowing down as he reached the store, glancing in. Should he pick up milk? They needed some but...

Steeling himself he decided to be spontaneous. He'd buy the milk. Walking through the sliding doors he headed straight to the milk, remembering the previous encounter he'd had with that Ulquiorra.

Speak of the devil...

"Do you go to Aizen?"

Ichigo blinked. The man, Ulquiorra, was standing in front of him, his face blank.

"Excuse me?" he said, his instinct telling him to shrink, common sense forcing him into an aggressive stance.

"I saw you leave there," the slightly shorter man continued, his voice flat, eyes expressionless. Ichigo was taken aback by his blunt and abrupt attitude.

"What?" he asked.

"The clinic. I saw you leave," the man stated. Ichigo shook his head slightly.

"How would you know that?" he was getting creeped out, seriously regretting his spontaneous decision.

"I saw you leave," the man repeated.

"How did you see me leave?" Ichigo hissed, rephrasing.

"I'm applying for a job there," the man said, eyes giving nothing away.

"Oh..." Ichigo said, no idea what to say to the man.

"So do you go to Aizen?" the man asked for a second time.

"Yeah," Ichigo said, before thinking. He should have told him to back off, that it was none of his business. He didn't even really know the guy beyond what Grimmjow had told him and their impromptu meeting days previous. He'd been backed into a corner.

"So you're mentally unstable?" the man asked.

Ichigo bristled, his eyes narrowing, his instincts telling him to leave.

"What?" he growled, incredulously. The man replied matter-of-factly.

"You're visiting a psychiatrist, meaning you're mentally unstable,"

There was that phrase again.

Unstable.

Unstable.

Unstable.

He'd heard it too many times not to react. He felt his fists clench as he listened to his instincts, turning his back and walking away, not gracing the man with an answer. Had he no tact? Who asked things like that?

He took deep breaths as he left, his pace more a stalk then a walk, trying to quell his anger. Who was he to judge him? Did he have no people skills whatsoever?

He'd just about distinguished his anger when he arrived home, yanking off his coat (which Grimmjow had forced upon him) and shrugging his bag onto the floor. He marched into the kitchen, his hands immediately reaching for the kettle. He stopped himself in disbelief. He didn't need coffee. He didn't need it.

It was only then that he noticed the smell of burning and turned to look at another Grimmjow-concoction he knew would be to blame.

"Hey," he turned to face his boyfriend, noticing the apron and slightly sheepish expression with confirmed his suspicions.

"I thought I'd 'ave another go," he said. Ichigo didn't answer, his brain still full of that phrase. Unstable. Unstable.

"Ichi?"

His distress obviously showed on his face because Grimmjow sounded slightly concerned. He looked down, hearing shuffling as his boyfriend pulled off the apron and walked towards him.

"What is it?" he asked. Ichigo shook his head.

"Nothing," he muttered. Grimmjow glared.

"Ichi...what. Is. It," he hissed, reaching up to grab each arm. He forced his face closer. Ichigo flinched at the feeling on his arms, immediately pulling back and curling them towards him. Grimmjow seemed to realize his mistake and muttered an apology, but stood waiting for his answer. Ichigo sighed.

"It was just someone said something..." he trailed off. He knew his boyfriend was glaring daggers at something or other, so looked at his converse clad feet instead.

"What?"

Ichigo bit his lip. What could he do? He could lie and feel incredibly guilty. He could play it off as nothing? No, that wouldn't work, Grimmjow knew him too well, knew he wouldn't get upset over something minor. Tell him the truth? Ulquiorra would be good as dead. But what could he do? He decided the third option. Ulquiorra was applying for another job anyway, het though bitterly.

"They...they asked if I was mentally unstable," he said, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

There was a silence, which Ichigo felt the need to fill.

"He asked if I knew Aizen, and said he saw me leave the clinic..."

Ok, he really wasn't doing Ulquiorra any favors...he was now sounding like a stalker...

"...and visiting a physiologist made me mentally unstable,"

He decided to stop there. He was already digging a hole for the man. Not even a hole. More a mine.

There was silence, filled with Grimmjow's heavy breathing.

"Who,"

One word. It was deadly. Ichigo nearly jumped on hearing it.

"Ulquiorra," he said so quietly that even he had trouble hearing it. Apparently Grimmjow heard it because as Ichigo risked a look at his face, it was filled with confusion and anger. He looked incredibly pissed of at any rate.

Ichigo started as the teal haired man left the kitchen and headed to the hall.

Ichigo followed him with confusion, watching as he pulled on his leather jacket, a certain sinking feeling appearing.

"Where are you going?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"To kill the bastard,"

"What? No! Grimm, leave it," he said, rushing forward and latching onto his arm. He was shook off.

"Let him get away with that? No, that fuckin' freak's 'ad it comin' to 'im" all grammar was off, a sign of how pissed he truly was.

"For fuck sake LEAVE IT," Ichigo said, screaming the last two words. That seemed to stop the man, as he was met with the sight of Ichigo standing, panting slightly, head down, hands clenched and shaking.

Ichigo felt two arms wrap awkwardly around him and he willed himself to relax.

"Leave it," he repeated "it's not worth it,"

"You're not ya know. Unstable. Stupid bastard had no righ' sayin' that," Grimmjow said into his hair.

"I don't know why I'm so pissed off," Ichigo said quietly "I guess it's 'cause I've heard that phrase so many times,"

He felt the arms tighten around him.

"Promise me you won't do anything," he said. There was no reply.

"Grimm," he said warningly. There was a sigh.

"Fine,"

He smiled into the fabric of Grimmjow's shirt.

"Thanks," he said. Ichigo decided against telling Grimmjow that Ulquiorra was in fact applying for a job at the clinic, for fear his boyfriend would insist on walking him home after each time he went. After the last time he'd decided never again. The gesture was enough.

"I..er...got a tape," he said, swiftly changing the subject. He felt the arms retract with a sigh.

"Let me jus'..." Grimmjow said, pointing toward the kitchen. Ichigo nodded, reaching down and retrieving the tape. He walked into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, staring warily at the pile of tapes slowly taking over the table.

He watched as his boyfriend returned, sitting down next to him. He could see the tension in the older man's shoulders and knew he was still angry.

"Ulquiorra..."

Ichigo looked up on hearing Grimmjow's voice. It was unusually quiet. Ichigo waited for him to continue.

"He's...he's strange. Ain't got no concept of, er...what's the term. Proper behavior?"

Ichigo snorted. He'd realized that.

"I know you think I'm bad," Grimmjow said, obviously mistaking Ichigo's laugh differently "but he's on a whole new level. Doesn't know what to say half the time,"

Ichigo faced Grimmjow, wondering where this was going.

"I'm not excusin' 'im. Because that bastard deserves to get the shit kicked outta him for sayin' that to ye," Ichigo smiled slightly at the man's nonchalantly violent behavior.

"...Just thought I'd tell ye that. Yer not the first one he's done it to," he continued, his eyes slightly glazed over as if remembering something.

There was a short silence in which Ichigo realized he'd been tapping his knee against the table and abruptly stopped, instead flicking his watch strap. He wouldn't bruise that way.

"Shall we listen to it?" he asked, leaning into the man slightly.

"Yeah," came the answer. Ichigo took a breath and slotted the tape into the machine, pressing play and tensing slightly as familiar voices pierced his ears.

"Ichigo...last week you promised me you'd tell me what happened next,"

"I didn't promise,"

"But you said you would right?"

"...yeah,"

"So can you tell me what happened?"

There was a silence.

"You'd just..."

"Fine,"

"Ichigo?"

"Fine then. I'll tell you what happened..."

Hichigo wouldn't leave it alone. It was a constant barrage of 'tell someone!' or 'get help!'. Ichigo ignored it. He couldn't tell anyone. He wouldn't risk his sisters. At least that's what he told himself. It was for his sisters. Not because he was scared to tell. No.

He'd just done his exercise. More pushups then you could count. His arms were aching and his skin hurt. The water streaming from the shower was too hot, his skin now a flushed red. But that was how he liked it. Hot. Painful. Unbearable. Just so he could bare it. So he could test himself. Like when he held his breath.

He'd fill the sink with water. Slowly but surely dipping his head into the water, till it covered most his head. Then he'd open his eyes. The water would sting, ache, and he'd want to close them, but he wouldn't. He'd just hold himself there, until his lungs began to burn. Each time it became harder. Not harder to stay under, harder to come up. It seemed so easy, to just inhale the water. To let go. He'd done it once, taken a deep drag of water. It shredded his lungs as he coughed it up, spraying onto the pristine tiles.

It seemed like his whole mind was shaken up. He'd never really considered dying an option, but right then it seemed to hold many opportunities for him. His whole concept of life seemed to change, as he looked at things differently. Walking down his streets became an opportunity, as he watched each car pass, subconsciously choosing which car would be best for his to step out in front of. He imagined it vividly , his body hitting the metal, the car hitting his body, as it skidded across the street, his skin being split open on the pavement.

As he looked around him he no longer saw buildings as buildings. Instead he judged them, which one would be best to step off? Which one would provide maximum chance of death.

He never did walk out in front of cars. Or step off buildings. But he thought about it an awful lot, his mindset being twisted and shaken until he managed to convince himself that these thoughts were normal.

As he stepped out the shower, his head light headed, he grabbed his clothes, quickly drying himself and slipping into them. He took them into the shower now. It felt safer that way. He pressed his ear against the door. Hearing no one (more specifically no woman) on the other side, he quickly opened the door and ran to his bedroom. Shutting his door behind him, he made his way to his desk, pulling out his journal and grabbing his pen.

Did pushups. Still not strong.

Each page of the book was similar, mentioning the words 'weak' and 'strong'.

Hichigo won't let up.

It was true. He was getting worse in his persuading, so much so that Ichigo was beginning to regret telling him.

...

He didn't know what to write. There were no words at all to describe how he was feeling. Like an outsider in his own home, but used to it in a way that weighed him down, like someone had his heart on a chain and was pulling him towards the earth at every given moment. He hated Isshin. He hated how he hadn't been able to see what was happening. He almost hated his sisters for being so vulnerable, easy to use. He hated with a burning fire that...that...woman. Hated how she'd destroyed his life. Destroyed everything. As selfish as it seemed, he hated his mother, for dying. For leaving him with that monster. He hated Hichigo, for prying, meddling. He'd only make things worse, Ichigo knew that. Most of all however, he hated himself. For being weak. For being pathetic. For...for, everything.

This is how he thought, aged fourteen. Each day literally seemed longer. Harder to endure. He forced himself to. Because he had to become strong. Funny thing was, he forgot why. He just knew he had to.

Sitting at his desk in school he surrounded by other students though not really seeing them. He was at school, his eyes heavy, threatening to shut, making him wish he'd had that extra coffee that morning. He looked up however as the teacher called his name.

"Ichigo. I want to speak to you after class,"

So he waited. In his desk. She made her way over to him, expression grave, but Ichigo couldn't bring himself to care.

"Ichigo, the staff and I have noticed that recently, you've not been looking very well," she started. Ichigo felt his heartbeat quicken slightly, his head clearing at what the words indicated. They were catching on.

"We were wondering...if there anything wrong at all? At home? Because we're always here if you need to talk to anybody..."

Ichigo could have sworn his throat closed shut at those words, but forced himself to speak.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine," he said, and could he have smiled, he would have. He stood before she could say anything, pulling his hood over his head as he walked out the classroom, immediately hunching over. He didn't turn behind him to see her stunned expression, his eyes instead darting to and fro, in every direction as he headed purposely away from the woman. The fact she was a woman, and shared so many physical traits that....she did was disturbing enough, but now she wanted to get involved? No. No, he wouldn't let her.

He looked at his watch quickly, to see what lesson he should have, nearly starting when he realized that school was over. Looking up he noticed the few kids there making there way out. He should have noticed that before, but it was unsurprising considering how little he's slept the night before.

Stepping out he did notice the figure leaning casually against a nearby car. Hichigo. It had become routine to walk home together. Or rather to the end of Ichigo's street, then the boy would wander off.

"Hey King," the boy said, giving a wild grin. The grin lessened on seeing his disheveled appearance.

"How much sleep did ye get last night?" he asked, as they began to walk.

"Enough," Ichigo said, wincing at the sound of his gruff voice.

"It obviously wasn't," the boy snapped. Ichigo shrugged.

"An' take that fuckin' hood down as well," he continued, to which Ichigo stepped quickly out his reach, scowling.

"You know why I wear it," he said darkly.

The boy didn't reply, instead taking out a cigarette and flicking his lighter beneath it. Ichigo wrinkled his nose. The boy seemed to notice his distate and took a deep drag staring pointedly.

"She done anything recently?" he asked after a short while. Ichigo shook his head.

"Not recent recent," he said.

"King. Can I make you a deal?" Hichigo asked. Ichigo grew suspicious.

"Depends what kind of deal," he said. Hichigo stopped, forcing Ichigo to stop. The older boy seemed to be taking in his appearance, his eyes drifting over him, something flashing behind them every now and then. Then he began to walk, Ichigo jogging slightly to catch up. Ichigo had just opened his mouth to ask when the boy turned slightly.

"I'll quit smoking," he said. Ichigo felt his eyes widen.

"Seriously?" he said. The boy nodded, grimacing. Ichigo was stunned. The boy had smoked all the time he'd known him, ignoring his attempts to get him to quit, showing no signs of wanting to.

"I'll quit," the boy continued "If you tell someone,"

Ichigo felt like he'd taken an extra step.

"What?" he asked, unable to believe what had just been suggested.

"I'll stop smoking, forever if you insist, if you tell someone about what she's doing to you. Or let me tell someone. Just let someone know, let someone do something!"

Ichigo felt himself back away slowly, his head immediately shaking and a mantra of 'no no no' repeating itself through his head.

"That's...that's not fair," he said. The pale boy narrowed his eyes.

"Oh really?" he said. Ichigo felt himself scowl.

"Yes," he hissed "how can you expect me to..to...tell someone? My sisters..." he said "they'd get hurt,"

"King...you're' getting hurt," Hichigo said, sounding exasperated. Ichigo stopped. He...he was...but he was less important then his sisters.

"No. I can't risk my sisters," he said. He watched as the pale boy's face darkened.

"Fine. Fucking fine," he said, turning and walking in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Ichigo asked, running to keep up with him.

"Home. Now fuck off, I can't deal with you right now," he said. Ichigo stopped, allowing the words to wash over him like a sickening wave. He felt cold.

He felt cold even as he walked into the house he occupied (it wasn't home). As he sidestepped Isshin's leaping hug. As he saw his sisters.

"Ichigo, my son! I have news,"

Ichigo sat down at the table, waiting for the man to speak.

"I shall be working at a clinic for the next week! To gain valuable experience!"

Ichigo furrowed his brow. Isshin had trained to become a doctor years ago, but following the death of his mother hadn't done anything with his qualifications. Did this mean he was thinking of?

"I'm thinking of opening a clinic," he said, his voice vaguely serious. Ichigo felt his brows shoot up.

"Seriously?" he said, thinking of what this could entail.

"Yes. But I'm going to gain some experience first before I do anything," he said, grin on face.

"Meaning I shall be leaving you my son next week!" he said. Ichigo felt his heart drop slightly.

"What?" he said. Isshin must of picked up on some of his bad vibes, so he quickly schooled his expression, keeping his panic locked down.

"It'll be fine though...Ayako will be living with you for the week, and I know how much you and the girls like her,"

Ichigo could have cried, he really could. Instead he kept his head down, blinking back the itching behind his eyes.

"I'm going to my room," he said, standing quickly and leaving the room, not looking as Isshin, instead trying to focus through the blur which covered his eyes. It was bad. It was really bad.

She hadn't been doing much recently. Isshin had been around a lot more (likely as he was planning 'his clinic'), so she'd had a lot less opportunities to taunt him. She'd still managed though, the bruise on the back of his leg proved that.

The day Isshin left he felt weak. There were butterflies racing through his stomach, and he could barely stop himself shaking as he gave the man a short wave. He was tense, just waiting for it to happen.

"There you are berry,"

He gulped as he walked into the kitchen, avoiding eye contact as she cut the meat. He began to boil himself a kettle, and he couldn't help but swivel his eyes to her, noticing the glint as she stared at the kettle. He had a sinking feeling that she'd burn him again, this time with boiled water, but she didn't. She merely watched as he poured the coffee. He left, drinking it in the hall. He didn't want her eyes staring at him the whole time.

Three days she did nothing. Three days in which Ichigo began to drop his guard slightly. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He arrived back in from school. Hichigo hadn't been there again. He was probably still pissed at him.

"Your sisters are at a sleepover," Ichigo flinched at the sound of her voice. He turned to face her crazed expression.

"They didn't tell you?" she smirked. He shook his head sharply. Her smirk widened.

"Well, that's a shame berry," she said, walking through the hall "maybe they don't trust you. I mean, I wouldn't," she pointed to her self with her chewed fingers. Ichigo backed away until his back hit the wall. He felt caged.

"Berry, could you maybe help me in the kitchen?" she asked. Ichigo didn't move, his heart beating so loudly he was sure she'd hear. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward, squeezing his arm in a vice like grip, and half dragging him into the kitchen.

"It's rude not to listen when people ask you to do things berry," she hissed, slamming him into the counter. He gasped as his mid-drift hit the wood, instinctively reaching round to grab himself.

"You know," she said. He watched as she made her way to the cupboard, grabbing something and shutting it "I noticed you've been drinking a lot of coffee recently," she made her way to the drawer, slicing it open and fisting her hand around a spoon.

She walked towards him.

"So I thought I'd help," she said, grinning slyly. Ichigo looked questioningly at the jar. It was the coffee jar, half full with granules.

"Here you go," she said, thrusting it into his hands, along with the sliver spoon. What was he supposed to do? Make coffee? There wasn't any water...

"Eat it,"

Ichigo visibly blanched. She wanted him to?

"All of it,"

He put the spoon into the jar, heaping a small amount onto the spoon. His hand shook. Had she put something in it?

He raised it to his mouth, pouring it onto his tongue, wincing as it crunched between his teeth. It was good in coffee. As granules it was sickly.

"Oh! Where are my manners?" he looked up, swallowing thickly, the dry mush scratching his throat. He hadn't drank since that morning, his throat was raw and unused.

"I forgot the sugar," she said, grabbing the jar, and heading to the drawers, taking out various packets. Ichigo watched as she poured the sugar in. And the salt. She mixed it once or twice before handing it back to him, looking thoughtful.

"You eat this. I'm going to get something. I want this much gone when I get back," she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger. Ichigo immediately began shoveling the concoction into his mouth, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes at the taste a texture. He coughed, his body wracking, but forced himself to swallow more. He knew what would happen should she come back and find he hadn't eaten it. When he'd eaten as much as she requested, he stopped, breathing heavily, his tongue raking across his mouth in an attempt to wet it.

He saw the tap. He'd been wary of the tap ever since she'd burnt his hand, but made his way over to it. He needed to drink or he'd choke.

"Stop,"

He froze. He turned.

"Did I say you could have a drink?"

He stepped away from the tap, but away from her.

"Give me the jar," she said. Ichigo did so, handing it over quickly from where he dropped it on the counter. He watched as she poured the strangely colored substance into the white and brown mix. Ichigo realized as she handed it back to him, the granules now moist.

"You need to clean your teeth berry," she said, grinning at the jar now flooded with mouthwash. As Ichigo held the spoon near his lips he tried to think back to lessons, anything where they could have mentioned whether or not mouthwash was poisonous.

"To slow berry,"

Ichigo had no time to register those words as suddenly his head was forced back and the mixture forced down his throat. He gagged immediately, but she rammed it back down, forcing him to swallow. Then it was gone, and he was leaning over, weak tears forcing their way out the corners of his eyes and he retched and gagged, the concoction forcing it way back up through his mouth, landing on the tiles with sickening splasheshaving burnt it's way past his chapped lips. He sat there, breathing heavily as the series of cramps overtook him, taking in several shuddering gasps as he finished.

"Didn't you like it berry?" she asked.

He did nothing, just leaned forward, one hand still on the floor, his breaths coming in short gasps. He felt his hair gripped, the strands threatening to break.

"I asked you a question,"

Ichigo tried to blink through the tears as he was suddenly thrown forward, his head hitting the floor. He nearly retched again at the smell of his vomit, now coating his hair from where he was flung forward.

He felt himself pulled up and shoved against the counter. His face was grabbed and he was forced to look into her eyes. She leaned forward, and Ichigo could see her nose crinkle at the stench.

"You fucking reek," she said, dragging him over to the sink and turning on the tap. Ichigo flinched, before realizing it was the cold tap. The relief didn't last however, as he was forced under the stream, his face and hair dampening, the vomit in his hair falling into the sink in chunks. He coughed as the water ran into his nose, but quickly swallowed what water he could, finding it soothing on his burning throat.

He was pulled out and straightened completely, and felt himself once more under her scrutinizing eye.

"You know berry," she began, poking her grubby finger against his face, turning it this way and that. Her finger rested on his lips.

"You're not bad looking,"

Ichigo felt his insides writhe at the thoughts he was having. What she was going to do. She leaned it...

"You should sell your body,"

Ichigo opened his eyes as she let him go, feeling relief as she stepped back, a look of distaste on her face.

"The only way you'll earn any money," she sneered "you can be a whore. Just like your mother,"

Ichigo felt his hands clench, his teeth grit.

He saw stars. It was that quick .She hit him, right across the face. She hadn't done that in a while, it was normally places where you couldn't see. His head snapped back at the force of the blow, the stinging throbbing pain beginning as he slid down the counter.

"Clean this up," she said, gesturing to the pile of vomit. Ichigo made his way forward.

"With your shirt,"

Ichigo didn't question. He merely slipped the dampened shirt of his torso, cursing his weak body and began scrubbing the floor, feeling her eyes on his back the entire time.

She began to sing. Ichigo had to admit, she wasn't a bad singer, but the words that she sang twisted her voice to a high pitched squeal of white noise in his ears.

"Ayako Kurosaki, Ayako Kurosaki, Ayako Kurosaki,"

She was singing it like it was her name. Like she was...married to Isshin. Like...

Ichigo tuned it out as he scrubbed the floor, his hand and shirt fully saturated.

That wasn't the first time Ichigo heard of her obsession with Isshin. It was the most obvious though, and left no room for other options. He now knew what she wanted (even if it would never happen) and his nightmares were now plagued with her...and Isshin.

Throughout the week, Hichigo didn't show. And the woman got worse. He walk into the room to find her flicking through wedding magazines, gazing longingly at the pristine glossy covers. Ichigo hoped she knew she'd never look as pretty as those women.

Ichigo poured himself into exercise, going on runs that seemed to last for miles. Even after Isshin returned home, he withdrew into himself, feeling more pathetic as he replayed the scenes in his head. He did nothing. Did nothing to stop her.

He drank twice as much, needing the energy the coffee provided. The taste now made him want to gag, but he relied so much on the energy it provided that he drank it anyway.

Hichigo met him after school on the Friday. Ichigo didn't say anything, just waited for the other boy to speak.

"King...let's just forget it happened," he said, beginning to walk. Ichigo nodded. He wanted to forget it all.

"Did something happen?"

Ichigo turned to face the pale boy. There was an awkward silence during which he watched Hichigo attempt to hide his concerned expression. He'd seen it though, and suddenly felt a lot better. Some one did actually care about him.

He shook his head.

"Nothing much," he said. It was better lying, then telling the truth he decided. Even though he felt guilt stab him like a sharp sword for lying to his only friend. But he couldn't risk anything...he didn't want to risk anything.

" I don't want to say anymore today,"

"That's okay Ichigo. You can continue next week,"

"Can you...can you turn it off?"

"The tape recorder?"

"...yeah,"

Ichigo did as the Aizen on the tape did, stopping it and ejecting the tape. He swallowed, as if to reassure himself. Hearing it on the tape made him feel queasy, as he vividly remembered the taste of the granules. Safe to say he'd never used mouthwash since (and hated when his boyfriend used the stuff). Again there was that silence that Ichigo was used to. It happened every time he played a tape. He felt determined to break it.

"Grimm?" he asked, almost timidly. The man's grip round him had grown painful.

"What...what can I say?" the man asked, his voice sounding rough. Ichigo nearly winced, instead pulling the man closer. He didn't know how to answer.

"Fuck...Ichi. This... does this get worse?"

Ichigo would have done anything to say no. Paid anything. But it wouldn't have been the truth.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"This...Hichigo. What happened to him?"

The one question Ichigo didn't want to answer. The one he wasn't prepared to fully answer.

"He...I...I don't know," he said, trailing off at the end.

"Is...is that why you hate me usin'...mouthwash,"

Ichigo nearly laughed. Of all the questions to ask, his boyfriend definitely didn't pick the most obvious of choices.

"Yeah. That's why I used to bitch at you for using it before attacking me with your mouth," Ichigo said, avoiding using the word 'kiss'. Grimmjow was always funny about that word for some reason.

"Shit, Ichi why didn't ye say somethin'?" his boyfriend said, sounding vaguely incredulous. Ichigo shrugged.

"What could I have said? I told you I hated it, I just didn't say why," he said. There was a silence that Ichigo was determined to fill.

"I'm gonna go cook something," he said, standing and stretching his arms slightly. His boyfriend stood even faster.

"No" he said. Ichigo narrowed his eyes.

"I can't not cook forever," he said pointedly. His boyfriend seemed at a loss, four lines already cemented into his hair, his fingers dragging through it.

"Yeah...but I wanted to cook tonight," he said, as if daring Ichigo to say otherwise.

"You hate cooking. And can't cook," Ichigo said deadpan. Grimmjow shrugged.

"You'll just have to tell me how then," he said, Ichigo breaking into a grin. He shoved his boyfriend into the kitchen, pushing the next tape to the back of his mind. The next tape which undoubtedly changed his life in ways he couldn't have imagined.

tbc.

Review? Was it okay? I'm slowly but surely upping the angst...no fear, she shall be dead soon enough. I really couldn't think of a decent chapter name...any suggestions?

Anyone want to guess how she dies? Like one big morbid quiz :D

Thankyou for reading and reviewing...If I haven't replied to a review I blame my internet...just know I'm very thankful.