A/N: Now... I find it pretty important to explain. Seeing as I have grown rather fond of experiments (my other fic 'Que Sera, Sera' was one to try and see if I could pull of something simple, yet drama-saturated enough for people to like it) this is yet another one of those. However, unlike with 'Que Sera, Sera' here I'm trying to manage with a story that isn't very realistic and deliver a good enough message anyway. Call this fic far-fetched if you like, I'm not expecting much, I'm aiming for something that I don't think everybody would understand. The idea just got sort of stuck in my head and I had to let it out but it wasn't just that. Despite being very logical and thinking about things from the most sober side, I'm also a supporter of the idea that one can fall in love for one day. One hour. One minute, if you may. For me, love from first sight is possible, whether because of some chemical reaction that has been coded into our genes from the very start, or some other lame reason, it doesn't matter. I don't care. I just think that it's possible and my opinion is supported by people who are very close to me and have experienced that. But anyway...

There're two songs that inspired it - one was "Mad World" by Gary Jules, the other was "My Skin" by Natalie Merchant. The lyrics I used were from "My Skin". On the side note, I'm currently reading "451 Fahrenheit", which for those who have read it, does sort of recognize the problem of the madness nowadays.

ATTENTION: DUE TO THE RULES OF THE SITE, I HAVE REMOVED A SCENE from this chapter so as to not cause problem with its CONTENT and I have placed said scene in LIVEJOURNAL.

Link to the story IN MY PROFILE PAGE or this:

queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/2427')(then a dot)(then 'html')

Please, support the petition to allow writers to have stories containing lemons - you will find the petition by googling 'petition to stop the destruction of fanfiction'

or... www(then dot)change(then dot)(then org)(then this /petitions/fanfiction-net-stop-the-destruction-of-fanfiction-net)

Till then... I'm saving my stories pretty much. :3

Thank you. :3

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, okay?

The Coop

…I've been treated so wrong
I've been treated so long
As if I'm becoming untouchable…

Now what?

It was a question that Ichigo had been trying to avoid desperately till this very moment. The past hour or so was a blur to him, a mix of shocked, bewildered, frustrated faces, a hurricane of aching voices and shrill screams, a sequence of almost mechanical reactions that all led to this one trice. This one chunk of crevasse-marred reality that would determine everything.

He was standing in the middle of the patient's room, the door locked, bolted and pressed tightly shut with the help of a cupboard behind his back. The phone was ringing piercingly between the two of them (rather persistently really) but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to walk the few steps needed forward and pick the damn receiver up. The cause remained unfathomable for him, mockingly gazing at his restlessly shifting figure from a distance much like the staid man that hadn't made a single attempt to move ever since Ichigo had burst into the room. The stranger hadn't even flinched at the sight of the gun in the carrot-top's hand, hadn't spoken a word, the glint of curiosity that had splashed across the pale features the only thing that showed some vague sort of response as he was informed about the situation. Quite oppressive and discouraging for newbies in the business such as Kurosaki himself... And yes, he knew well enough that he was currently fidgeting uneasily in the chamber of the mentally-ill son of a billionaire, but 'delusional' didn't necessarily mean stupid. Or did it? God, Ichigo should've made a much more thorough research on the matter.

Desperate times call for desperate measures...

He swallowed with certain difficulty, the cold body of the gun that he was pointing at the boy now a thousand times heavier as he took in the other one's appearance. Damn, the photos in the magazines were definitely an umbrage to this guy, he was absolutely devastatingly beautiful. No more than twenty or twenty-one years of age, the only child of the world-famous deceased opera singer and the currently first and greatest concern of his stepfather, Hitsugaya Toushiro had quickly turned from the most promising name of the century into the most mourned tragedy for the past few years. Word had it that the previously unparalleled genius of the boy had turned to nothing shortly after his mother's death as he had swiftly lost his grasp on the reality and had ended up in a lunatic asylum. A loss that had been bemoaned by many, especially in the sphere of science and mathematics.

"Aren't you going to answer, Mr. Terrorist?" the velvet-like voice literally ripped Ichigo from his ruminations and he frowned a little, desperately trying to comprehend the meaning of that unnervingly teasing smile that was playing on the other one's lips. "I bet they are calling to sort out the deal. Hopefully, the sum you have in mind is large enough. I'm not some cheap piece of meat, here, I deserve some reverence."

Ichigo hesitated for a moment longer as he speculated the situation. This definitely wasn't going the way he had planned. Toushiro seemed perfectly aware of what was happening, the shadow of nearly baneful intellect that resided in the depths of those unblinking jade eyes enough to have the most certain person falter in his steps. How is this even possible? Tuning out the obnoxious ring of the phone, Ichigo tilted his head to the side and sincerely tried to perceive how a person who was supposed to have a very loose grasp on what existed and what was born from the imagination, could look at him with so much fascination and such clear insight. There wasn't a trace of the slightly drowsy, giddy sort of behavior that pills and mental aberrations were meant to cause, there wasn't any limpness or weakness in the posture, no diversion in the look on that small face, just a clear, purposeful and somewhat gauging gaze. Comprehension. Thinking. Sanity.

Hitsugaya was sitting in the same chair that Ichigo had found him in upon entering the room, his smaller body clad in an sterile white set of clothes that hung on his thin frame loosely and only accented harder on how skinny he was. His legs were crossed in a idly, well-neigh self-centered manner and he had left his hands to rest in his lap, long, slender fingers tapping soundlessly against the soft material of his trousers as he watched the carrot-top in a sort of taciturn, jeering fashion. Somewhere in the distance the faint sirens of the police cars could be heard but so far Kurosaki wasn't worried about that. With his gun pointed at the head of the ex-prodigy the chances of anyone trying to attack them were slim to none.

"You know, if you don't pick up, they are going to think you aren't really standing here, with a gun aimed at my brainless head and that would be quite a pity, considering all the trouble you've probably gone through." Toushiro pointed out with a dismissive gesture and Ichigo let out a frustrated sigh, crossing the distance between himself and the phone and deftly putting the receiver to his ear, while his hand still held the gun leveled at the boy's forehead.

"Yes?" he paused, listening as the police officer on the other end of the line introduced himself smoothly and promised that he wanted to achieve the best outcomes from this situation for everyone. "Well, I cannot guarantee this unless a couple of things are done on my behalf. I need-… Oh, yes, he's right here. Uh… Yes, certainly." Disjoining the receiver from himself, Ichigo opened his mouth to ask the boy to come closer, but Toushiro had already risen to his feet with a roll of his aqua eyes and was heading for the phone. Careful not to lose his aim on the shorter male, the carrot-top stepped away from the device, brows furrowing in a slightly suspicious scowl as he watched the confidant gait of an aristocrat that the smaller one involuntarily demonstrated. Hitsugaya's hands were around the receiver in a heart-beat, holding the object lightly almost as though he was disgusted by it but instead of immediately lifting the thing to his mouth and getting this over with, he took his time eyeing the strawberry appraisingly, scrutinizing, like he was trying to figure something out. Ichigo felt his discomfort and vacillation increase exponentially at the sight but he forced himself not to let it show as Toushiro finally pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Is my… stepfather there?" the boy said, skipping the greeting. From this distance Ichigo could hear the police officer trying to speak extra clearly in order to get his point across to the mentally ill male. "I'm sorry, but this man said that he wouldn't negotiate unless my dad is there." Seeing the way Toushiro's face contorted into an ugly grimace at the word, the carrot-top felt a certain tinge of anxiety creep under his skin but the sensation instantly vanished as he saw the boy hang up without another word.

"Wh-… What did you do that for?" he exclaimed indignantly before he could stop himself or think over the fact that if this boy truly had sanity problems, then shouting was probably not a very good or at least not a very beneficial idea. Hitsugaya turned his slightly irritated gaze to the carrot-top and arched a perfectly shaped brow as if daring Ichigo to keep going. "How can you just-… What if they don't call again now?"

"God, you truly are an idiot." The boy declared impartially and a muscle right under the strawberry's eye twitched with annoyance at the almost scientific manner in which the statement was made. "You don't want to raise your voice on me, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is because I can see right through your façade just like everybody else. And you know what's under your façade? A desperate man who hasn't got a clue about what he's doing."

"What the-"

"Or how a gun should be held." Before Ichigo could comprehend the meaning of those words, the smaller boy had stepped forward with an almost bored twist of his pale lips, his hand shooting to wrap around the carrot-top's wrist. The taller male barely had the time to try and pry himself free from the surprising firm grip, before a cruel, well-trained kick landed in his gut, sending him breathless to the hard floor. Fuck! Rolling to the side with a pained hiss, the strawberry found himself incapable of forming any logically well sustained string of thoughts as the only words that seemed to be willing to emerge from the depths of his conscious were either curses or ramblings of utter shock. Somewhere between trying to catch his breath and throwing an offense at his supposed 'hostage', a very distant alarming light shone in bright red in his head, informing him briefly that something wasn't right. That something very, very important was missing. Now, if only he could bring himself to figure out what it was…

"What's your name?" the soft click brought the carrot-top harshly back to reality and he froze in his position of being slight curled to the side on the floor and pushed himself to prop his body on his elbows, both his brown eyes fixed on the gun that was now pointed in the centre of his forehead. "Talk."

Ah. There it was.

"So you truly are moonstruck." The words rolled off Ichigo's tongue before he could stop himself and he saw Hitsugaya's face deform with rage as they reached him. The frighteningly steady hand that held the gun lifted to the ceiling and with one unhesitant, almost mindless shot that had the carrot-top flinching helplessly, Toushiro blew up the bulb above their heads. Thin shreds of glass rained on the two like a sparkling dust but neither of them moved, the ex-hostage quite dismissive of the whole situation and the other one still trying to comprehend what was going on. The shot resounded around the room like a derisive, deadly song that bounced off the walls in malice and caused the taller male to quickly rethink his attitude as the boy lowered the weapon again and made a couple of quick, determined steps towards the carrot-top.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. That's my names." the strawberry forced out reluctantly as the nozzle of the gun was pressed against his forehead and he had to look up to see it. The cool iron felt like a burning circle in the centre of his skull and he had to try really hard not to fidget restlessly as he waited for whatever was to follow. Above him Hitsugaya let out a weary sigh, his free arm wrapping around his middle idly as he crouched in front of the carrot-top, the look of scrutiny and curiosity back on the boy's face as he cocked his head a little and let his eyes rave up and down his body.

"Well, Kurosaki." Toushiro enunciated sweetly. "It's very nice to meet you. You've been a highly amusing abductor." His lips twisted into a slightly diabolic smirk as he withdrew the gun and reached to scratch his brow with it deliberately. "And you, my dear, have just become my lucky star…"

Five minute later they were sitting across each other with Toushiro back in his chair and Ichigo occupying the only other available one in the room. The boy still had the gun in his hand but said hand was resting cozily in his lap rather than being pointed at the carrot-top's head so the taller male found that as quite a progress.

"So… you're not crazy?" it was quite useful to be completely aware of this things. Really.

Toushiro let out a low dry chuckle and shook his head, eyes darting across the room in a manner that Ichigo assumed was a way to avoid looking at the carrot-top.

"Much to my stepfather's misfortune, no. I'm not. I'm quite painfully sane, actually." He gave the taller male a crooked smile before reaching to tuck a rebellious lock of white hair behind his ear. "But for now I want to talk about you. I'm willing to do my best for both of us to get out of this mishap content and safe. However, for that to happen, I need to know what drove a fine young man such as yourself to do something as stupid as to try and ask for ransom from the father of a supposedly mentally ill guy." He paused, that crooked smile stretching just a bit more as he added complacently. "Not that I'm not grateful, though."

Letting himself slump lifelessly in his chair, Ichigo propped his elbow on the armrest and pretty much dropped his head in his palm, a low groan escaping his lips as he tried to make his brain work pass the veil of mind-numbing stress.

"You pointed a gun at me and now you expect me to 'tell you the story of my life'?"

"I find this accusation ill-founded. You were first to point that gun at me."

"You fired a shot. You know how to shoot."

"Yes, it was part of the self-defend classes I used to go to. And as far as that last statement is concerned, saying something like that is quite degrading for your reputation of a criminal, Mr. Kurosaki, so I suggest you desist from making any such comments in the near future…" pausing to chew on his bottom lip thoughtfully for a few seconds, Hitsugaya leveled the phone from a distance and exhaled slowly through his nose. "We don't have much time to clear things out, so don't waste whatever we have left. I promise that your cooperation will only be for the best."

For a few long seconds Ichigo remained completely silent, watching with callous uncertainty the boy in front of him as the questions kept accumulating one after the other. He almost expected something in Toushiro to snap and the thin mantle of sanity to rip to shreds, revealing a twisted, abhorrent shadow of what once was brilliance. The chances seemed quite unlikely though even if he was vary vaguely aware of what the symptoms of mentally ill patients were. Hitsugaya's speech was accurate, distantly amiable, circumspect to the last letter and very far from inconsecutive. His jade eyes were focused and determined, fixed on an aim in his head that the carrot-top was yet to discover and his movements were exact, confident and well-measured to the point of being somewhat frugal. There wasn't a single thing in his behavior (other than the fact that he was trying to make deals with a presumable criminal) that suggested the famous genius had any sort of disorder…. And truth to be told, Kurosaki wasn't entirely certain how he felt about this situation… Surely, it was good to have a conniving partner in this sort of a mess but the fact that the gun wasn't in his own hands anymore (and he had had such a hard time getting it in the first place…) wasn't all that much of a consoling thought…

Ichigo forced his nervously tapping foot to cease its movements and concentrated instead on what he was going to do. He tried to gauge the person in front of him, see below what everybody else saw and what the world viewed as a fascinating piece of art, and was surprised to find out that Hitsugaya wasn't resisting him. Quite the opposite really, the boy was letting Kurosaki in, inviting him to examine everything he wanted because they couldn't launch into something this extreme if they took each other as foes and Toushiro seemed to understand that perfectly…

Somewhere, deep below the ice crust that covered the aloof pair of jade pools, there rested something – something lukewarm and liquid-like that stirred the very essence of what was inside the genius – and it cajoled Ichigo gently, soothingly to trust the boy. It was a type of emotion that people usually let spill in aggravated yells, frustrated sobs or silent hot tears, a feeling that once coerced on somebody was close to impossible to chase away. Hitsugaya though… he seemed to have learned to live with it, co-exist with the corroding sensation despite the way it was slowly destroying him from the inside. He wasn't hiding it, he wasn't pretending that it wasn't there, it was just that nobody had ever actually looked. Something this strong couldn't have appeared out of nowhere – it had blossomed and developed with the time, long before the prodigy had been forced into this place. Ichigo could almost see it now – all the paparazzi, all the contests, all the awards, teachers, professors and scientists who only wanted from him, who envied him and tugged his arm in one direction or the other. The boy had been cooped long before ending up here and no matter how you looked at it, the thought was revolting. Revolting… And painfully true…

Because for many years now Hitsugaya Toushiro had been incredibly, boundlessly lonely.

"My sister needs an operation." Ichigo blurted out before he could stop himself, his throat running dry instantly as he tried to keep himself together. "She… needs it soon or else she's gonna die. But we don't have the money to help her, so…"

"So this is what you resorted to. Crime." Hitsugaya supplied flatly and the carrot-top swallowed with difficulty, his head moving in a small nod. A brief pause followed, during which the boy's jade eyes lowered thoughtfully, a calculative look falling across the daintily etched face as he seemed to let the other man's words run freely through his mind. Ichigo watched the whole process dejectedly, waiting for the verdict that was surely to come and when the smaller one finally lifted his gaze, the carrot-top all but held his breath in anxious anticipation. "Alright, Mr. Kurosaki, I think we can reach to an understanding."

"Um, what do you mean by this?" the strawberry enquired with mild puzzlement and the white-haired boy nodded calmly, obviously expecting the question.

"Well, you help me get out of here and in return I will make sure that your sister is treated in time." Came the patient retort but despite the appeasing, business tone that the shorter male used, Ichigo couldn't help the loud, incredulous snort that tore from his lips.

"And you're absolutely positive you're not crazy?"

"Mr Kurosaki," Toushiro's mouth twisted with distaste for a moment as he adjusted himself more comfortably in his chair, his fingers wrapping snugly around the gun. "The phone is going to ring in a few minutes. All you have to do is say what I ask you to and the explanations will come after that." He paused, allowing a quaint smile to spread across his face in a surprising charming manner. "I guarantee you that once this is over, you won't be sorry in the slightest bit."

Exactly as Hitsugaya had predicted the phone rung a couple of minutes later. Armed with the scenario that the boy had prepared, Ichigo made sure to act brusque and confident, going through the whole procedure of proving that the 'hostage' was alive and well before he was given the chance to speak to Toushiro's stepfather. The voice on the other end of the line sounded unpleasantly like the one of a sycophant, the fakeness of the demonstrated concern obvious to the strawberry from the very start. Resisting the urge to decry the billionaire as a complete hypocrite, Kurosaki quickly followed through what he had to do, requiring a professional camera and… He paused, giving the smaller boy a dubious look one last time before adding:

"And Toushiro's laptop with all the things attached to it." Well, he was the bad guy here, he could ask whatever he wanted. At least that was what Hitsugaya had said several minutes before that in order to convince him to say the needed lines. "They are to be delivered on the balcony. I'll send the boy to take them but I'll be keeping a very accurate aim on him from the inside so don't even think about attempting anything. Also, I find it important for you to know that he'll be the one trying them out first, which means that any funny business with the devices isn't a very bright idea." Toushiro had been very eloquent earlier on in explaining about different ways in which machines tended to explode in the criminal's hands the moment they are turned on and damn, Ichigo wanted to curse his vivid imagination. "You have till the morning."

And with that he, or rather they, hung up (because Hitsugaya's hand had yanked the receiver out of Ichigo's hold mere moments after the last sentence had left the orange-haired man's mouth).

"Now what?"

Toushiro smiled condescendingly and turned to look at the darkening sky outside, the distant light of the police cars blurred by the flaws in the window glass. The picture was almost surreal in away, especially in contrast with the silence inside the building and for a moment the carrot-top wondered… what had living in a place like this been like?

"Patience is your friend, Kurosaki." The genius stated as he gracefully walked to the window and pulled the curtains down so only a small fading streak of light could crawl in the dim room. Leaning on the wall beside it, Toushiro slowly, wearily slid to the floor, knees involuntarily finding their way to press against his chest and he wrapped his arms around his legs. "You want to ask something, don't you?"

Taking in the resigned expression on the boy's face, Ichigo sincerely hesitated for a few long minutes as he considered the aptness of one such question. Toushiro was going to answer, he was sure of it, but was it alright to be so brazen, was it okay to require this from somebody who had obviously gone through enough? Where did the innocent curiosity begin and where did it turn to selfishness, where did it morph into an ugly, impudent sort of desire to know what wasn't meant for your ears? Ichigo didn't want to be another long-nosed reporter or an insensitive story-seeker, he wanted the boy to feel comfortable sharing. He wanted to help Toushiro remove the mask of indifference that had downright coalesced with his skin and let go of all the bottled up emotion he had inside, feel freely every bit of anger, sadness and betrayal, wear the sensation off and then bask in the relieve this would all bring in the end.

With one last deep breath, Ichigo stood up and started to make his way towards the sitting form on the floor only to freeze dead in his track as the familiar glint of the gun caught the intensifying silver illumination from outside. Propping his elbow on his knee, Hitsugaya held the mechanical killer at an arm distance, head slightly tilted to the side as he took a good aim at the middle of Kurosaki's forehead. What the-…? The space between the two stilled completely, much like a static cadre in a low-quality movie but notwithstanding the expectations, there was no aggression, no threat on the smaller one's face and so the fear never came.

"Your sister must be a really lucky girl." Hitsugaya suggested, lips curling a little at the edges into a mirthless smile as he lowered the gun and placed it to the floor, pushing it to slide towards the strawberry. He then leaned his head back and patted the space beside himself in a silent invitation, watching mindlessly with the corner of his eye as Ichigo hurried to comply, while the gun remained completely forgotten a few feet away from them. "But anyway, Kurosaki, you were saying…?"

Adjusting himself against the hard wall, Ichigo let his legs stretch forward lazily, a distant thoughtful expression falling across his face as he dwelled over what he was planning to do again. Hitsugaya didn't make an attempt to apply any pressure, choosing instead to remain utterly immobile as he waited for the other one to collect his thoughts:

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to but…" the carrot-top paused, resting his arms on his raised knees as his shoulder stirred in a nervous shrug "How? How did you get here?"

Hitsugaya chuckled and reached to smooth his brows with his fingers, a sidelong smile twisting his mouth as he allowed a few more empty moments to stretch between them. Still fresh, still painful memories flashed behind his eyes and as the pieces of the mosaic rushed to find their appropriate places, he spoke:

"I guess it all starts long, long before I actually started noticing things… For many years my mother, the beloved and cherished opera singer, had been the loneliest woman in the world… I suppose it never occurred to me what a burden that could be as I didn't know any different, I had lived like this forever, growing accustomed to my vast, maroon and very logical universe that people seemed to steer clear of from a distance… My mother, however, she wasn't like this. Once upon a time, years before becoming a star, she had known very well the feeling of having friends, of having a true relationship and the memory was like a burning sting in her chest, spreading like a virus through her system day after day. It was painfully different now though… She was famous, rich, she was the owner of five private music schools in the country, several clubs, theaters and opera houses and that, along with being an only parent, was a monumental responsibility that ate up all her freedom, all the pieces of her privacy… She had pretty much given up on everything that could be referred to as personal happiness, but, of course, I didn't know that. I, the most observant man live, didn't see how miserable she was until it was too late…"

"She met my stepfather one May afternoon while she was out shopping. Apparently she saw something in him that she considered worth giving a chance and so she accepted his trite invitation for a coffee. His behavior was very fake, very exaggerated and how she fell for it was and still remains a mystery to me. Fact is, she was falling in love and I was beyond unhappy about it. Within seconds after I met him I already knew that he was aiming for her money and it was killing me to realize that my mother couldn't see that." Letting a small dry laughter rip from his chest, Toushiro shook his head and seemingly shrunk deeper into himself, the crushing weight of the memory literally deforming him physically. "She said I was jealous... Well, she didn't put it this mildly, actually it was accompanied with a lot of other things regarding my jubilant persona, but, yeah, that was the main point."

"Somewhere beneath all the grousing and the anger I knew that to an extent she was right, I was jealous. Because out of all the people in the world she was the only one who had ever loved me unconditionally, the only one who cared about me because of who I was and not what I was or what I could do. I was so used to us being just… us… that the presence of one more person in our life just didn't seem to fit. There was no space for another guy, yet alone this persistent, manner-less man with a greedy gleam in his eyes… And so I refused to pretend that I felt anything but disdain towards him. Me and my mother had a number of fights over that but ultimately it became clear that I couldn't stop her from seeing him and I let it go."

"At first I thought that with the time she'd see that I was right on her own and get rid of the pest but in contrast to my expectations, she seemed to sink deeper and deeper into her blindness with every passing day. Then BAM! Before I know it she's marrying him and I have a new daddy that is watching me like a hawk, expecting the tiniest error, the smallest step outside the boundaries to get into a confrontation with me." He paused, letting the feral look of enmity and revulsion melt off his face in a few deep breaths and then he was hugging his knees tightly again, chewing on his lower lip to keep his feeling intact. "She was always on his side. Always. This obtuse guy managed to present himself as a sort of panacea to all her problems, that, as it seems, including my behavior as well…"

"By the end of the first year I couldn't stand to be in the same house as him, yet alone in the same room because somehow that always led to bickering, the bickering turned into an argument and before I think better of it, I was slamming doors shut behind my back… I knew he was trying to brainwash her into changing her will to include him in the document, but I had no idea how far he had managed to achieve his mission. To be honest, I didn't even care. All I wanted was to have my mother back… I guess in the end it wasn't meant to happen…" He swallowed with difficulty, hands raising to rub against the muscles of his neck and as he turned his head to the side a thin layer of moisture shone in the poor light, making Ichigo's throat run dry. "One day I saw her leave with the statement that she was going to visit her lawyer and by the gleeful look on my dad's face I could guess pretty well what was going on..."

"A week later there was an accident. The next couple of days are a bit of a blur to me… Reporters, press, interviews, doctors, policemen… Then the funeral came and I couldn't even bring myself to cry. It was all so fast, I didn't… I wasn't able to say my goodbyes properly, I couldn't realize the full meaning of this new path on which I had unexpectedly landed and I was so… so utterly alone… This... This time for real." he closed his eyes for a moment, the edges of his mouth twisting sourly as he continued with a good amount of gloating in his voice. "Then they opened the will... and guess what? All that she had she was leaving to me. The only change was that if something happened to her before I was 21, my stepfather was to tend to my fortune. I don't know how I found the strength to be even more furious at him but there he was, fuming like a fucking bull, screaming that there must've been some mistake, that this just couldn't be..."

"Then he started rambling – it had all been perfect he said, all perfect, what had gone wrong? He paced back and forth before the lawyer's desk and kept mumbling that while I just sat there, lifelessly and waited for this to be all over so I could just go home and mourn in peace… And then… It clicked. Somewhere between the haze of the loss and the disgust that I was feeling towards this man, something snapped and before I knew it, I was accusing him of a crime that I was completely sure he had committed. I said that he was behind the accident, that he had paid for this to happen after wrongly assuming that she had changed her will, and that if it hadn't been for him, my mom, who was such a careful driver, would never, ever…" a low sob tore from the boy's chest and as he buried his face in his knees, shaking uncontrollably in a way that caused something inside of the carrot-top to tear apart. Without thinking, Ichigo dropped an arm around the thin shoulder and pulled Toushiro closer, whispering soothing words into the small ear.

"It's okay. It's okay, let it all out…" the carrot-top mumbled as he rubbed the genius' back gently, calmingly, the smaller body pressing even harder against his own as the sobs intensified. Ichigo didn't make an attempt to pull back, he didn't even hesitate as he tightened his hold around the boy, choosing instead to surrender to the mild surprise that spread across him at the total lack of awkwardness in the pit of his stomach. The feeling of having this almost complete stranger weep inconsolably on his shoulder was both unusual and peculiarly natural and as he noticed the small hands timidly reach to clutch his shirt, a warm, soft feeling of affection and care splashed across his insides, causing him to cover the slender fingers with his own in silent support. The mysterious, twisted ways of Fate… Several minutes passed till Hitsugaya was finally able to continued and with a small sniff, he detached himself from the taller one's shirt, only to slump exhaustedly against Ichigo's side, his breathing still slightly uneven despite the obvious efforts.

"Anyway, I remember losing it in the lawyer's office and trying to punch the bastard in the mouth but I was held down so I never got to experience the long-yearned pleasure. I still had to put up with the guy for another year, which was unbelievably unfair but I think I was too devastated to think about that either. When I look back at what kind of a mess I was, I guess I realize my current predicament is partially my own fault, too, as I just completely let my guard down… A month later there're doctors bursting into my house, talking about taking care of me and when I try to fight back, they sedate me and bring me here." Toushiro lifted his hand to his face and wiped at the tear-stains, trying to restore his previous visage in the mids of his now quite lifeless narration. "By the time I realized what's going on, it was too late. Apparently, my stepfather wasn't as stupid as I thought he was, for he had managed to twist things around enough to have the whole country believe I had lost my mind. All that was needed was big enough sums of money, a couple of reporters, several corrupted, gold-digging doctors and a number of distorted relations about how I was 'delusional' about him killing my mother and here I was – struggling to find a way out of the medical hazy and out of here." He turned to look at Ichigo with a bit of a smile on his face and added. "The doctor that stuffed me with pills is on a vacation this week so I was left to have my thoughts back, surprisingly. I'm guessing your presence here right now is not a coincidence."

Ichigo released a small chuckle, shaking his head.

"I did some research, alright? The guy was a watching over you like a mother hen… I needed a loop in the system to make it." he paused, the smile melting off his face as he looked down at the boy again. "But don't you have anyone? I mean anyone at all to actually try and interfere? A distant relative, a grandparent… a… boyfriend? Maybe?" the last part felt like sand in his mouth but he forced the words out anyway, watching as bitter amusement twisted the boy's features.

"None of that, unfortunately. Not a single live relative. As far as the rest of the suppositions are concerned… I didn't really have much time to date or hang out with friends… I kindda regret it now, though." A strange, slightly wicked glint reflected somewhere in the depths of his jade orbs as he added in a whisper. "What about you, huh?"

Ichigo chuckled weakly as he shook his head, his hand now running up and down the boy's shoulder unconsciously.

"You realize how strange all this is, don't you?" the carrot-top stated softly and he felt Toushiro shrug beside him.

"Absolutely fucked up. But what isn't nowadays? I mean, really…" Hitsugaya looked up, meeting the pair of chocolate eyes that he hadn't even seen several hours ago but that seemed so close now, so understanding. "What a kind of a mad world deters children from getting better and throws sane people into mental asylums. What kind of a world is one where people marry for money…"

"Ours." Ichigo whispered softly and Toushiro chuckled.

"It's just a big coop, Kurosaki. A big, big coop…"

Lowering his gaze to the boy beside him, Ichigo found himself unable to resist the tiny smile that broke on his face, spreading its warmth all the way to the tip of his toes. The heat of the smaller body, pressed so snugly against his, the spicy, almost inviting texture of Toushiro's voice and that deep, bottomless set of orbs… it was so, so confusingly, unusually tempting. And this – all of it – it wasn't melting away, it wasn't showing any signs of seeping between his fingers into the nothingness like every single inexplicable thing in the universe. It just tarried.

And Hitsugaya… Hitsugaya was waiting for him. Expecting something, anticipating the inevitable for both of them and it made Ichigo's chest ache a little because of the sudden realization that sometimes, in certain situations, people didn't really have a choice…

Was it right? Was it wrong? And who was to say which of these was the correct answer? Could one week, or one day, or could it be one hour that decided a man's future and if no, why not? And if yes, then what?

Ichigo sighed.

"You're kindda weird, you know…" he whispered, the words almost fearfully emerging from his lips as he let his eyes wonder all around the other one's pale face. A set of small, slender fingers rose to claw against his shirt gently, almost teasingly, but the pair of jade pools never turned away.

"You're kind of weird, too." Toushiro replied softly. Then he moved a little, pushing himself slightly up until he was just inches away from the taller man's lips and added in a surprisingly earnest susurration. "Are you going to kiss me, Kurosaki?"

What kind of a question is that? Gliding his palm slowly up the boy's shoulder, Ichigo rested it against the back of Hitsugaya's neck and leaned just a little bit closer towards the genius before gently threading his fingers through the soft while locks. The scent of something very pure, something faintly sweet and so, so delicious washed over him as he watched Toushiro's eyes flutter shut in expectation, those smooth lips parting slightly, patiently. Letting his breath dance across the sensitive flesh, the carrot-top almost didn't want to continue… the anticipation was too delectable, too damn addicting… Yet… Delivering a tiny, prudish kiss to the corner of the prodigy's mouth, Ichigo realized he had nearly moaned in delight when they had hardly even done anything… He could feel the boy shiver pleasantly under the nonexistent touch, but it was enough… It was enough to have the taller male realize just how strong the desire to taste and devour was, and how uncontrollably it was growing. What is this? Humming nearly imperceptibly, the carrot-top drew his lips across Toushiro's and for a moment neither of them made a move to do anything else, they just breathed together, swallowing the heat, relishing in the simplicity of the sensation. Then slowly, oh so slowly, mouth found mouth and the world around them fell apart to dust and specks. Fingertips traced the outline of Ichigo's arm, leaving a wake of goosebumps, then after what seemed forever, they reached the carrot-top's shoulder, his neck, his jaw-line… And stopped. Fearfully. Uncertainly… Grabbing a hold of the dainty wrist, Kurosaki pressed the smaller palm to his own cheek, encouraging it to feel freely, enjoy fully because… because... Oh, God… The kiss deepened, lips parting willingly as the hot, wet sensation intensified into something equally gradual and erotic, the air around them seemingly beginning to tremble along with the scorching incandescence that radiated from both of their bodies. With an arm wrapped around Toushiro's waist, the taller male lowered his partner to the floor carefully and let his hands wander, moving beneath the rim of the sterile white top to feel the naked skin underneath.

Have I lost my mind… am I going crazy…

Hitsugaya gasped against the carrot-top's mouth, arching his back a little at the sensation but didn't detach himself from the other one, choosing instead to wrap his arms around Ichigo's neck. Pull them closer.

"I don't know what's happening to me…" the strawberry found himself admitting in a whisper as he moved down to the flawless neck in front of him, tasting the skin, sucking faintly, nipping teasingly as he simultaneously pushed the fabric of the prodigy's shirt further upwards. Beneath him the boy just sighed, letting the sublime question hang into the air unanswered, limp and meaningless, until it became clear that this didn't matter. It was just another void in the picture, another empty obstacle. "How far are you letting me?"

"How far are you willing to go?" it was a suggestion and a permission, spoken with so much resignation that Ichigo felt his heart clench. It was like Toushiro was expecting him to jump to his feet any moment now and run for the hills – and the assumption was so foolish that it hurt… (...)

Missing scene is in my LJ account. You can find links to there in my author notes as well as my profile page.

(...) "I think I kindda like you."

Hitsugaya chuckled at the statement, tracing a lazy finger along the forearm that was now wrapped around his body so protectively. Sitting in a tangled mess of clothes and with their backs against the wall (well, Ichigo's back was against the wall and Toushiro was just beginning to recognize the perks of being held this snugly) the two of them represented a warm breathing bundle in the darkness of the room.

"Well, of course you do. You just screwed me raw."

"You were the one asking me to go faster. And that's not what I meant…"

Toushiro sighed, leaning his head back against the carrot-top's shoulder. He gave his lover a few seconds to take his words back, stigmatize them as a joke, but when none of that happened, the prodigy felt both relieved and slightly anxious.

"You're very sweet, but you're not thinking straight. In a couple of hours we'll be-"

"Making a deal with the police. Yes. I know. But what about afterwards, I mean don't you want to-"

"I don't know." Hitsugaya cut him off rather harshly, eyelids dropping over the jade irises tiredly. The room fell silent for a moment, the arm across Toushiro's torso loosening a little as a slightly sharper exhale of breath sounded from Ichigo's side.

"You don't know?" the carrot-top repeated incredulously. "You… don't know?"

"Ichigo." Hitsugaya began patiently, his small hand reaching to wrap around the taller male's wrist. "Right now this might seem easy. And achievable. But out there we'll be tiptoeing down a thread. You're not prepared to live a life with no privacy and if things go the way I've planned them, privacy is the very last destination." He glanced up at the now quite miff carrot-top and added. "I don't want you promising things you can't possibly fulfill. Right now all I want is to enjoy this moment, if you'd just let me."

Sighing lowly, Ichigo decided that it was useless to bicker and just pulled Toushiro flush against his chest, nuzzling the exposed neck as he tried to engrave the dainty smell into the deepest corners of his memory.

Watching Toushiro before a computer screen was like struggling to comprehend the supremacy of the human brain capacity over everything else that could be created. All that Ichigo saw over Hitsugaya's shoulder were numbers, codes and symbols, yet the genius seemed to be able to comprehend what was written, type his own commands in this mechanical language and proceed with whatever he was trying to do. Which, as far as the carrot-top understood, was breaking simultaneously into as many of the most visited internet sites as possible.

"I really don't understand what's going on." The strawberry admitted lamely and Toushiro just chuckled, pressing a couple of more keys before glancing over his shoulder at the taller male.

"Don't worry, we're not hacking the Pentagon. Although, I admit that that would've been quite fun."

"Then what's going on?" came the slightly frustrated inquiry.

"Did you prepare the camera?"

"Toushiro…" the strawberry nearly whined, twisting his lips to the side impatiently. The childish attitude almost had the smaller male laughing out loud but he somehow managed to contain himself, choosing instead to smile benevolently and his lover.

"We're going to broadcast our very own video."

Somewhere outside the building, the police cars were still parked in a messy bunch, the lights flashing in a wearing sequence above the heads of ordinary police officers and a group of newly arrived professionals, trained for exactly this sort of situations. A small herd of reporters were chatting a couple of meters to the side, drinking coffee and discussing the latest political gossip, the cameras and the microphones ready for action in case something actually happened. So far the prospects for that weren't too great. Crowded around the automobiles in small clusters and leaning over differently scaled maps of the inside of the asylum, all these men did nothing but bicker endlessly about what to do. Plans were being thrown randomly in all directions, suggestions and objections voiced with growing frustration, yet nothing seemed to be safe enough to be applied. This was much different than anything they've faced before, for this 'criminal' wasn't really asking money, wasn't making any particular requests and the hostage himself was known to have mental problems, which made it all the more difficult to get the boy out…

…And the fact that a famous billionaire was wandering around them with impatient questions about when, how and if something was about to be done, was not helping in the slightest bit.

"Mr. Sato." Officer Fujihara began for the umpteenth time, his voice brimming with impatience as he pulled the other man to the side. "We are doing everything in our power to get your son out of this mess."

"Well, apparently you're not doing enough because as far as I'm aware all you've achieved so far is to waste my time!" Hitsugaya's stepfather fumed, his almost non-existing lips twisting with irritation. "I want this dealt with as efficiently as possible, so I can go back to my life and my own problems."

"We cannot just throw ourselves into action like this, Mr. Sato, we don't know what we're facing. This man seemed quite inexperienced at first but now he's asked some very specific items and we're not sure what he's planning to do with those. We're trying to make sure that the boy remains safe and healthy."

"The kid is mentally unsound. How much worse can it get?"

"Are you seriously saying what I think you just said?" the officer enquired, eyes narrowing with disbelieve as he tried to gauge the other man's expression. Sato let out a small groan, shaking his head as he glanced at his watch.

"I don't have time for this…"

"If you don't want to stay here, that's fine." Fujihara spat out, large muscular arms crossing over his chest. "No one's going to stop you from leaving. And you definitely don't seem like you care enough for this boy, so I don't think your presence or absence thereof would make such a big difference."

The look that emerged on Sato's face at that statement was quite clear to read and it made the police officer all the more angry that he couldn't resort to physical interference. Like I can possibly go away and have all the reporters eat my brains out for it afterwards.

"Officer…" a thin young policeman called as he approached his boss cautiously, his eyes fixed on the screen of his mobile phone as he struggled to find the right words. "You might want to see this…"

Taking a step back, Sato ran a hand through his hair, waiting for the other two to finish discussing whatever they had to discuss. This is ridiculous… Or rather, it was beyond unnerving. This was the very kind of publicity that he didn't want… It wasn't hard to figure out that Toushiro was healthy – all that was needed was for someone to hear him speak about all those confusing scientific shit and the suspects that the genius was delusional would all go to hell. If the boy got out of this situation alive and well (and the prospects for that seemed to grow more and more worrisome the more Sato mused over them) he'd have to be there to take him away as fast as possible. He wasn't completely sure how he was going to do that yet, but maybe some generous sums of money would be enough to shut the stretching mouth of the media.

"Is that… Oh my God…" the small exclamation came from Fujinahara' direction, causing Sato's ears to instantly perk up. For a moment, there was nothing, just the ordinary buzz of noises in the background, then the parking lot fell strangely silent, suddenly everybody nudging their colleagues and pointing at the screens of their wi-fi supplied mobile phones, laptops and ipods. Within seconds, a heavy cloak of murdering tension fell upon the little 'camp', crushing all the plots and strategies, and through the thickness of this suffocating feeling only one familiar voice reached the billionaire's hearing, making his blood run cold.

"What is this!" he downright hollered, rushing to the two policemen to try and see what they were watching. Snatching the mobile phone, Sato well-neigh shoved his nose into the screen, eyes widening impossibly as he was met with video that was currently running all over the web.

"…And when I'm finished with this…" Toushiro smiled bitterly at the camera, crossing his white-clad legs over one another. "You'll be the judges of exactly how delusional I am."

It had been a months since then, yet Ichigo could remember it like it was yesterday: the image of the small white-haired boy disappearing in a sea of camera flashes, microphones and audio-recorders faster than a snowflake melting under the scorching sunrays. Toushiro's video was all over the media for weeks after the incident, article after article flooding the newspapers all throughout the lawsuit against Hitsugaya's stepfather. The outcomes were evident for the whole country from the very start, yet Sato had done his best to try and make out the genius as someone with very serious mental issues and get away with it. It hadn't worked, of course. As far as Ichigo was aware, Toushiro was currently the lucky owner of all of his mother's property. Word had it the boy was working on the drafts of a book, called 'The Coop' that would be published next year. The carrot-top had a feeling it wasn't just gossip, even if the only connection that he'd had with the genius was the receiving of a fat check through the mail services. He was lucky enough not to be bothered much by the reporters since Hitsugaya had been so kind as to present him as an old friend of his who had broken inside the hospital with the sole reason to help the boy and so no actual accusations were made. He was a free man.

And his sister, Yuzu, was a healthy girl.

The operation had been carried out a couple of days ago, successfully of course, but the doctors didn't want to discharge her just yet. Which was why now, armed with a basket full of chocolate bars, waffles and candy, Ichigo was driving into the hospital's parking lot. Maneuvering between the lines, the carrot-top quickly found a free space and smoothly slid into it, turning the engine off mere seconds later. His hands didn't move from the stirring wheel though, squeezing it a little bit harder instead as he gazed emptily into the space before him. Unseeing.

Not a single word. Nothing. Just… nothing. It pained him to think that Hitsugaya didn't want to have anything to do with him because as embarrassing as it was, the carrot-top had been everything but liberated from images of the witty boy genius.

He realized it was stupid. Absolutely fuckin' ridiculous. Hell, not only that, it was beyond childish to put the brief image of someone unattainable on a pedestal and languish after what would never be his. Hitsugaya didn't belong in his world just as Ichigo couldn't fit into Hitsugaya's – it was only natural for them to remain separated. Those few hours that they had spent together – they were just a brief, exceptionally hard ripple in the reality, a thinness in the seam between their universes, and it had died away long ago. He had to let go of it now and move on – he realized and understood that with every fiber of his body and maybe exactly because he fathomed it so well, it hurt worse than anything he had ever experienced before... Dammit, Ichigo, this was how it's supposed to end… Yet, even with that comprehension, much more often than not, he would wake up in the middle of the night, panting heavily in both confusion and arousal as he tried to emerge from the heated, painfully realistic images… the memories of that pale body, writhing and squirming beautifully beneath him, and the craving would just grow stronger.

He closed his eyes tiredly for a moment.

It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. He couldn't force his presence on anyone, no matter how much he wanted this person. So, instead, he was going to keep going, marvel at his sister's recovery and cherish the tiny piece that he still had of Toushiro. The honour to be the first to hear the boy's confessions...

Pushing the double doors of the hospital open, Ichigo barely managed to make a few steps inside, when a familiar voice called his name. Turning around, he started with confusion as his own reflection goggled at him from the surface of a pair of expensive sunglasses.

"Hi." The carrot-top managed, tongue feeling strangely thick and parched as he watched Toushiro whip the glasses off his face and reveal a pair of piercing jade orbs. The lithe form stood straight before him, just as perfect and beautiful as before, but maybe, just maybe, a little bit healthier looking.

Ichigo almost wished he could pinch his arm without being too obvious, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"How have you been?" Hitsugaya asked, lips stretching into a very small, very wary smile as he wrapped one arm around his middle. The gesture was somewhat nervous, protective even, but Ichigo didn't notice, too busy staring in shock, devouring the view before him avidly.

It's been shit, I can't stop thinking about you. That's how it has been. That's how I have been...

God, this jeans make your ass look so damn hot, how come I've never seen you in them before? Oh, right. I've only had the honour of investigating your body in a set of hospital attire.

"Great." He choked out, awkwardly. "Just awesome. You?"

"So-so." Hitsugaya answered quickly, like he had actually rehearsed the reply in his head beforehand. Then the smile melted off his face, replaced by apprehension and he added a little bit more softly. "I've wanted to see you. I just didn't know… I wasn't sure if you'd… You know."

"No, I don't." Ichigo cut him off a bit more abruptly than he intended and then immediately regretted it, seeing the flash of hurt on the boy's face.

"…Want to see me." Toushiro finished in a whisper, averting his gaze as his other arm also found its way around his middle. The carrot-top swallowed with difficulty.

"I did."

"So you don't anymore?"

"No!" Ichigo nearly squeaked, before quickly remembering his place "I mean-"

"It's okay, I understand." Hitsugaya uttered gently, taking a step back as he tried to smile reassuringly "I just wanted- I don't know what I wanted. I was stupid. I-"

"Go out with me." Ichigo blurted before he could stop himself. "I mean only if you want to- I mean- I mean... if you would like to... Shit!"

He was cut off by Toushiro chuckling lightly as he made a couple of steps towards the carrot-top, the usually cold teal eyes now two seas of warmth as he wrapped both arms around the taller one's neck and stood on tiptoes to plan a quick kiss on the tip of Ichigo's nose.

"I'd love to." He paused, seemingly thinking over something for a moment, then added. "Now let's go meet that sister of yours, shall we? I plan on bargaining with her about the chocolate."

"You're weird."

"So I've been told."

The End.

A/N: *sigh* Really... Just say nice things or don't say anything at all. *hides under a rock*

*peeks under it to add* Link to the missing scene (can also be found in my profile page): queenofcitrus(then you write a dot and 'livejournal') (then a dot) (then 'com/2427')(then a dot)(then 'html')