A/N: Now, I know what you're thinking: I shouldn't be starting ANOTHER story right now, but my laptop, with all the drafts, is currently getting fixed. So what else can I do rather than start a new 2-3shot and do my best to finish it soon? You could say that this is a part of the 'Colour' series, but it's out of the plan that I had in mind, so it goes under the name 'Iridescent'. The song is called 'If Everyone Cared' by Nickelback and according to me it has one of the best lyrics ever even if it might not be to everybody's liking.

P.S. Has anyone noticed that there's an option in the right upper corner that can make the background of the story go black and the letters to become white?

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

Iridescent

Chapter 1

…If everyone cared and nobody cried

If everyone loved and nobody lied

If everyone shared and swallowed their pride

Then we'd see the day when nobody died…

As Hitsugaya entered the cigarettes-and-alcohol shop that afternoon, he couldn't help it but think that he would've never heard about Kurosaki Ichigo had it not been for three very disturbing facts:

1: The orange-haired prick's face was currently the most preferred visage for all sorts of advertisements, posters and billboards in the country (and not only) and thus in whichever direction he had the misfortune to turn, Toushiro was more or less forced to look at the man's obnoxiously smirking expression. It was like the world had suddenly run out of hot bodies to exploit and everybody were scrambling over each other to get their hands on the carrot-top in order to utilize his unreasonably popular smile into the next detergent commercial. The boy found it beyond creepy and quite sheepheaded to be honest. Not only did he not think that this Kurosaki person was even remotely as handsome as everybody were (sadly) trying to make him out to be, but also Hitsugaya felt awfully stalked whenever he swirled around the corner in some supermarket and nearly ran into a cardboard, real-size version of the supermodel, possibly with some perfume company's logo below, or a bottle of shampoo in his carton hands, or a box of fucking strawberry-flavored bubble gums (Ichigo? Strawberry? Anyone notice the creative hint?). See? Creepy.

There was no doubt in the boy's mind that this Kurosaki Ichigo guy was executing some incredibly cunning plan for world domination. There was no other explanation for it all: how was it possible for a person to infiltrate such radically different spheres of the media and economy and remain popular for this long? How did one manage to represent so many companies and still be sought out by more despite the tremendous number of contracts he already had? It was just unfathomable! And really, really, really annoying.

Another example: the idiot, who Toushiro was pretty sure didn't even smoke, had even become the face of the boy's favourite cigarettes brand. Hitsugaya's fucking cigarettes! That, the boy mused with a scowl as he leaned over the glass-case in search for a replacement for his usual fix, was an unforgivable sin. Now he had to find a different kind of smokes that he tolerated and, truthfully, that was like trying to drink Pepsi when you obviously like Coca-Cola. It sucked.

But let's move on.

2: Hitsugaya had been living with his older cousin Momo for a little more than a year now, which, however one looked at it, meant that he was sharing his aslant, creaking excuse of a dwelling with a girl. Girls were apparently, if inexplicably, very closely related to fashion magazines - and what was the flashiest attraction in fashion magazines?

Super-fucking-models. That.

Which, translated from Toushiro's elaborated language, was a way to say that he was stalked by Kurosaki's image even in his own home, never to escape the artificial presence that he despised so much. Ever. Ever. Ever.

Well, until this person miraculously dropped dead, which the man apparently wasn't planning to do any time soon…

…But still. Still, those were the bearable issues that bothered the boy, the ones that he could survive with– really – because that was just the patient, reasonable and sunny guy that he was… He could manage having to listen about this Kurosaki person every day, see his face on his favourite channels and be forced to switch to the ones that broadcast exciting processes like fishing and golf, he could even put some effort into desisting from breaking things that carried this Ichigo's face on them. He was willing, so, so willing to suffer all that for the sole purpose of some greater good.

Toushiro, however, could not and would not accept the following fact:

3: The motherfucker lived just across the street.

When builders had arrived to lay down the foundations of a large house just a few months ago, the last thing that Hitsugaya had expected was that this would end up to be the palace-like home of his worst nightmare. Karakura, Toushiro had always said, was like Wonderland. Everything could happen, mostly unpleasant stuff and mostly to Toushiro. Which would, in some alternative universe, probably denote the boy as a very, very bitter, unpleasant and highly unfriendly Alice, but that was irrelevant for now…

Grimacing childishly, Hitsugaya forced the name of the replacement brand of cigarettes out of his mouth and quickly paid to the shop assistant, eyes drilling suspiciously in the pack's back even as he walked out of the place and let his skateboard fall flat on the empty sidewalk beside his feet. Flipping his purchase between his fingers for a bit, he briefly considered going back and changing his request to what he usually liked rather than this shitty smokes that he just knew would make his stomach churn. Reconsidering such choice, he noticed, would be a first. The first time to ignore this quite astounding, destructive tendency of his that consisted in proving pointless things to himself via the means of self-suffering. It could be a step forward, a move away from his absolutely impossible attitude towards everything and everybody, a progress regarding his opinion on changes, and celebrities, and friendship, and relationships, and all the other things that most people had such firmly set ideas about… Wouldn't that be great? Wouldn't it?

Before the temptation had got the best of him, Hitsugaya clenched his jaw and swiftly tore the thin plastic cover of the commodity. Forget it. With a rarely-expressed determination, Toushiro plucked one of the tobacco sticks and tucked it between his lips, grumbling something incoherent under his breath as he fished out a lighter from his pocket, pressed the little button and cupped his palms around the flame to protect it from the wind until it served its purpose. A moment later he straightened his back and took a deep drag, nearly choking when the unpleasant taste of cheap cigarettes stuck to his tongue and throat.

"Shit…" the boy mumbled, pulling the thing away from his mouth and giving it a disbelieving look. "Who the fuck would buy this?"

Me, that's who. Toushiro shook his head and lifted his right foot to nudge against the board in his feet, absently rolling it back and forth along the uneven concrete. A woman with a kid walked past him, her gaze briefly and aimlessly landing on his face - just long enough for her to recognize him and do a double take. The surprise and suspicion in her widened eyes was so predictable, so obvious and plain, that the nineteen-year-old lad couldn't help it but stare right back at her, the sour taunting chuckle that tore from his lips enough to have the mother hurrying away as though she had just stumbled across a leper. Splendid. Karakura was just such a small, cute town, wasn't it? Homey and shit. People knew everything about everybody, because above all, gossip, and stories, and fiction – those were the main entertainment around here and to fit in, to be accepted, you needed to sacrifice a few things. You had to be aware of a few specific details that if not regarded with care, could ruin anyone's life. The first and probably the only real principle that mattered, was that whoever dared to break the rules that this incredibly morale-driven town had put up, was to be punished. It was an unspoken decision between people from all ages, a tacit understanding of a sort, and few dared interfere, especially if they wanted to keep their good name. You might not know about the snowy-haired son of the mayor, but you must most definitely hear the story from one source or the other, you have to know what he did, you need to make him feel like the trash he is if you ever stumble upon him. That's how it works. That's how it fuckin' works... And you don't get to feel bad, okay? You just don't. It's a one-sided story, no grey areas, no hesitation, so don't bother trying to find out more.

He's an embarrassment, that boy. An embarrassment. And he didn't even say that he regretted it, not once.

That's me. Toushiro thought as he watched the lady's back disappear behind the nearest corner with a funny, penguin-like sort of speed-walk. The one and only. Are you going to tell your kid about me when he grows up?

Swallowing back the unpleasant flavor in his mouth, Hitsugaya brought the cigarette back to his lips and inhaled another dose from the bitter poison, his eyes turning to look at his own reflection in the shop's window. For a guy who had been thrown out by his own parents awhile ago, he still looked quite okay. He didn't wear that unkempt, scanty appearance that the local hobos displayed so readily, he just seemed a bit… er…

Miserable?

Shaking the thought away as soon as it had entered his head, Toushiro forced another unpleasant drag from the cigarette into his lungs and tilted his head to the side at his reflection. He was still thin underneath his attire, still unusually short, small for a nine-teen-year old, but fit and well-built like an athlete. He knew men still turned around when he walked by, closet cases or open cases, they all stopped dead in their tracks to stare shamelessly at his tight little ass, his incredibly long legs and the messy, exotically coloured hair that cut him out of the crowd and left them with the burning afterflavor of hot arousal, solely caused by the knowledge of what he had done. Sure, Hitsugaya was as attractive as he could be repulsive, his biting, sarcastic manner of talking, the unpleasant habit of brushing people off without getting to know them, it was all quite difficult to swallow, especially if one wasn't prepared. He could act a little nicer if he felt like it, but why bother? It was obvious that whoever approached him already had a fore-made idea of who he was, so why would he try to dispel or alter it? Toushiro was who he was and if Karakura didn't like it, they could suck it up. A nice percent of the guys already wanted to anyways.

Letting his eyes rest more specifically on the face in the half-transparent mirror, the boy noticed that he was a little paler that he used to be, too, the sharp collarbones and the trail of his jawline protruding more saliently through the almost see-through white skin of his face. Without the interference of the school rules which he had always hated with passion, he was free to wear black nail-polish the way he had always wanted to, he could spend his whole day with a baseball hat on his head if he so decided, and no one, fuckin finally, had the right to forbid him from the torn jeans and hoodies that he favored so much, or the night tours that he took with Renji and Rukia on a regular basis to spray-paint the walls of abandoned or not-so-abandoned buildings. Sure, those escapades had caused him to get arrested twice so far, but who cared about that anyway? Not his lovely parents, that was certain.

Chucking the burnt cigarette to the side with an almost relieved sigh, Toushiro stuffed his hands in his pockets and jumped on his skateboard, propelling himself lazily with his left foot as he maneuvered his way down the street and towards his house. Hinamori and he lived almost at the very end of the town in a badly-built, stubby construction that had once belonged to Hitsugaya's grandmother. The boy's parents hadn't showed any objections towards him occupying the place, so the white-haired teen wasn't planning to move out any time soon. He had a part-time job in a shop during the weekdays, the occasional request to paint a wall in some street-dancing club and pretty much more free time than he could possibly ask for. The future didn't look very bright with him having got kicked out of school and all, but it wasn't something that he cared to think about very often. What was the point anyway?

By the time he got home, Hitsugaya had managed to smoke two more cigarettes, grimacing and lamenting under his breath about their foul taste the whole time. He finished the tobacco sticks anyway and after purposefully ignoring the large mansion just across the street from his house, he unlocked the door and got in, not really wanting to bother his cousin by ringing or knocking when he could very well get in himself.

Placing his skateboard beside the door and shrugging his thick hoodie off to throw it on the nearest chair, Toushiro absently made his way further inside the house, all the while formulating his daily string of complaints in his head. He knew Hinamori wouldn't agree with half the things he had to say, but that wasn't what really mattered – he just needed to vent a little before bedtime and that was about it.

Pulling the baseball hat off, Hitsugaya ran long pale fingers through his hair, absently tousling the strands, messing them together as he soundlessly headed for the kitchen only to stop dead in his track just on the threshold when he saw that his cousin was not alone.

"This day keeps getting better and better." Toushiro breathed, brows forming two identically surprised arches as the two other people in the room turned to face him.

"Hey, Shiro-chan!" Hinamori greeted from where she was putting a plate of freshly baked cookies in the center of the table, a bit closer to her guest than to her own body in an unspoken hint for him to eat up. Hitsugaya had to literally bite his tongue to keep from throwing a sarcastic remark at Momo's pathetic attempts to be hospitable – it was fuckin' amazing that this guy hadn't found himself a very important excuse to get out of this place yet. The man looked like he had been cut out of some glossy, colourful page in an expensive magazine and stuck on the cover of a school paper. Everything around the kitchen seemed to be rejecting him the way a human organism would fight a foreign body off – the chipped walls, the uneven wooden floor, the furniture - they were all clashing viciously with the piece of resplendence behind the table and the sight did not amuse Toushiro in the slightest…

Kurosaki Ichigo was one of those people that carried a very well-emphasized air of masculinity around themselves without appearing ridiculous in the slightest. He was tall and lean, with a beautifully harmonized muscle structure, even complexion and one of those boyish smiles that could make the knees of pretty much anyone (except the incredibly grumpy Toushiro) go weak. Everything about his clothes and overall style aimed for the proverbial 'casual' look that each man was dreaming to achieve nowadays, and yet not a single hair was out of place, not one tinge of a colour was mismatched with the rest of his attire or accessories, and the fact gave him the look of something that had just been snatched from a barely opened package.

"Don't call me that." Toushiro deadpanned more out of habit than anything else, jade orbs still focused on their guest as he placed his forearm against the door-frame and leaned his weight on it. Before him Ichigo's expression changed just a bit, brown eyes darkening further as he let them travel down the boy's body, from the slender white neck, down the slightly shabby-looking t-shirt to the pair of long legs, his gaze seemingly pausing to linger boldly on every piece of torn material to admire the hints of clean pale flesh underneath the denim. Hitsugaya felt his skin tingle under the scrutiny and he barely resisted the urge to snap at the model before Momo was speaking again, her cheery voice withering slightly around the edges with a sort of worry that the white-haired boy knew was his fault.

"Well, since Mr. Kurosaki's been living across from us for a whole week now, I thought maybe it was a good idea to invite him over, um… Don't you agree?"

"Oh, yeah. Wonderful." Toushiro said, his voice purposefully devoid of any emotion as he proceeded to search his pockets for the pack of cigarettes that, as he promptly realized, had been left in the hoodie. "I absolutely don't mind you inviting a complete stranger in our house while I'm out."

"Actually, my name is Ichigo." The model stated, his mouth twisted with a hint of amusement as he continued staring at the boy in a way that made Hitsugaya realize that the carrot-top hadn't really looked away ever since the shorter male's appearance. "I work-"

"I know who you are; unfortunately it just so happens to be impossible not to be aware." Toushiro noticed unhappily, the series of ambushes from real-size cardboard ads immediately popping in his head. "I'm just returning from a walk full of random versions of 'you' and – would you look at that? – I get the original source of my misery in my own house. Oh, what a fortunate day that is, indeed! Do you think you can find the door yourself or is your brain and sight too damaged from all the photo shoots to successfully accomplish such an elaborate task?"

"Toushiro!" Momo squeaked indignantly and the boy rolled his eyes, this time completely slumping against the door-frame on one shoulder as he eyed his guest pointedly. Much to his displeasure, he found no anger or annoyance in the taller one's expression – just a bit of surprise and a much more powerful proportion of humour and interest that seemed to be pouring from the man's every pore, seeping out and trying their best to permeate through Toushiro's icy demeanor the way a safety-match might try to warm up a glacier.

"I'm sorry. I was rude. " Hitsugaya enunciated nastily. "Do you think that you could please find the door yourself or would you need some assistance?"

"Ignore him." Hinamori cut in immediately, not really giving Ichigo the chance to say something. "He just likes showing off just how much of an asshole he can really be."

"Yeah, that might as well be the purpose of my existence." Came the dry retort and the carrot-top chuckled, still refusing to tear his gaze away from the shorter male.

"Are you two related?" the model asked and the other occupants of the room nodded, murmuring simultaneous complaints under their breaths over a short glaring match. "And you live together?"

"Yes, imagine that!" Hinamori exclaimed, the first real signs of anger already showing up on the surface as she bounced up and down her toes restlessly, arms wrapped around her middle as she glowered daggers at her cousin. "I made the mistake to take pity on him when his parents-"

"THAT I think is quite enough." Toushiro snapped, cutting her off sharply before turning to the carrot-top. "Mr. Kurosaki, would you be so kind to leave?"

Letting his smile grow just a bit, Ichigo rose to his feet, quickly calming down Hinamori's tide of objections with just a few words before her tirade had managed to get too out of control. He kissed the girl's hand goodbye in a manner that immediately had Hinamori blushing all over like a third-grader and made his way past Toushiro. The two cousins stood still and silent until the front door clicked closed and the moment it did, Momo was at the boy's throat once again.

"Why did you have to be so mean?"

"I told you." Hitsugaya growled, his aggression not really directed at the girl as he made his way inside the kitchen and took a cookie from the top of the pile of still warm sweets. "He's snobbish and fake all over. I don't like him."

"You used to be the same!" Hinamori tried to rebuff but Toushiro lifted his index finger and calmly wagged it in denial, his teeth already nibbling on the second half of the cookie.

"I was rich, but I was never a snob." He argued easily and Momo's scowl deepened, eyes darkening like a thundercloud as she put her hands on her hips with the determination of a mother that was planning to give her child a good scolding. Before her Hitsugaya just let his brows jolt upwards impartially, obviously deeply unimpressed by the threat this was supposed to impose on him, and turned around to pluck another home-made baked goodness from the plate. He honestly hated fighting with Hinamori – she had never been very resourceful or convincing when expressing her point and so Toushiro rarely had trouble defending his own views. That didn't mean, however, that he enjoyed any of those bickers – they were exhausting to say the least, and had the awful penchant to lead to nothing in particular which more or less resulted in the boy suffering from a severe headache.

Plus, it wasn't like he was going to suddenly have a change of heart and start fancying this Kurosaki person, was it?

"You thought you could do anything and get away with it." She tried again and Toushiro let out a small, torn sound that could've been laughter had it held any hint of genuine happiness in itself.

"That is also not true: I did what I did because I thought I was right at that time."

"Really? Well, maybe you're not right about Ichigo, too?"

"I don't think so. He's as dislikable as they get."

"Why?" Hinamori enquired a surprising sort of sharpness showing in her voice as she stared at the back of her cousin's neck with burning, gimlet eyes. "He's exactly your type, is he not? Tall, handsome, rich… did I mention older?"

The words spilled from her lips and hung in the empty space between them for a good few moments, their unclear meaning, the unspoken accusation making them sound like a vociferous screech in a barren field rather than the soft almost susurration that they really represented. The moment he processed what his cousin had just said, Toushiro froze, his shoulders going stiff and hard as marble as he slowly put the cookie he had been preparing to eat back on the pile. His hands that were now resting on the table's surface, curled into tight fists and he lowered his head, a jolt of scalding pain shooting through his chest, paralyzing his muscles the way a powerful poison might. His breathing broke a little and he closed his eyes, the familiar feeling of hurt covering his skin with a thin layer of invisible frost.

"Wow, Momo…" he mumbled, surprising himself with how weak his voice suddenly sounded, how hard it had suddenly become to speak up. "I thought you of all people understood."

"Shiro-chan…" he felt the regret in her tone, the search for forgiveness, but he jerked his shoulder away the moment he felt her fingers brush against it. Taking a few more deep breaths, he let his expression soften before finally gathering the strength to storm out of the kitchen.

Grousing under his breath about too much rain and crappy weather, Toushiro dragged his feet to the middle of the hallway and stuck a bucket under the leak that he had been promising himself to find a solution for for what seemed like forever. A drop of water managed to land on the burning end of his cigarette and the tobacco stick sizzled angrily, the flame dying away completely when another water-bomb from the holey roof managed to finish what the first had started. Straightening his back, Hitsugaya snatched the now destroyed fag from his lips and gave it a scornful look, mentally willing it to dare not catch on fire right this very moment.

Which it did. The impudent little thing. It ventured to disobey, thinking probably that it could get away with such audacity.

Hitsugaya's dignity was wounded.

"Fuck." The curse squeezed between his lips along with a weary sigh and Toushiro was just about to turn around and walk to the waste bin to throw the now useless cigarette away, when a soft knock on the door made him stop dead in his tracks. Taking a quick look around as though he expected to see someone already inside the house, Hitsugaya looked back at where the sound had come from and frowned with bewilderment. Judging by the amount of water that was seeping through the roof and filling the bucket at a tremendous speed, he was pretty sure the condition in the outside world was pretty much unbearable. Having people come to visit right now (or at all for that matter) sounded ridiculous.

Without tearing his eyes away from the entrance, the boy tilted his head back a little and shouted over his shoulder:

"Momo, are you expecting someone?"

He heard something along the lines of 'Don't be silly.' but the reply was half-drowned by another knock on the door and Hitsugaya groaned with annoyance, wading barefooted to answer it before he had changed his mind.

"What?" the question sprang from Toushiro's mouth prior to him even looking up to see who it was that was having the stupidity to disturb him at this hour and in this weather. A low chuckle was the first thing that greeted him and the boy's eyes instantly darkened, narrowing cholericly upon having the misfortune to land on his neighbor's face as though it was a tax-inspector smirking down at him rather than the most popular visage in the country. "What do you want?"

Armed with an umbrella and clad in a thin tee and jeans, Ichigo bounced a little on his feet like a restless child might, his left hand rubbing sporadically up and down his right arm in some pathetic attempt to warm the skin up. Toushiro found it quite amusing really – being so uncomfortable with low temperatures and all – seeing as the man had only been forced to cross the street to get to Hitsugaya's house and was suffering greater misfortunes that the teen would after spending hours outside in the cold.

"Nice to see you, too." The carrot-top noticed, raising an ironic brow at Toushiro's glum expression before quaking all over with the next formidable shiver (the white-haired teen was sadistically delighted by the sight). "Can I come in?"

"No." Hitsugaya stated resolutely, his expression not altering in the slightest as he crossed his arms over his chest with the cigarette still sticking limply between his fingers and tipped his head back a little as though to have a better look at the man before him. "Only Momo is foolish enough to let stalkers in the house."

This time both of Ichigo's brows shot upwards, a low chocking sound escaping his lips as he blinked owlishly at the shorter.

"You think I'm a-… what?"

"Never mind." Toushiro said staidly, not bothering to explain any further how he had mentally decried the model quite a long time ago. "Can you just say what you wanted so I can say no and you can leave?"

"Ah. Right. Well, I need a favor." The carrot-top admitted, ignoring the rest of the boy's comment with ease that few dared to show in such situation. Letting a little lop-sided smirk twist his lips, Ichigo thrust his thumb over his shoulder, unambiguously pointing in his house's direction as he continued. "I'm throwing a big party tonight in, ugh, honour of my moving here."

"I'm not going to raise any noise complaints if that's what you're thinking." Toushiro derided impartially, pulling a face when the other one shook his head, obviously having something completely different in mind. Great. This wasn't over yet.

"That I would've had no problem dealing with, actually…" Ichigo's gaze lifted to some spot above Hitsugaya's head and he proceeded to chew on the inside of his bottom lip, obviously mulling over how to put into words the rest of his request. Oh, God… With the toes of his bare feet curling restlessly against the floor, Toushiro discovered that his thin patience could stretch to a much further extent than he had originally expected, his annoyance towards his neighbor growing steadily as he waited for something more consistent to be declared. "I had been promising to introduce my boyfriend to quite a few people tonight. Some of them have been nagging me about it for some time cuz this is probably the closest thing to a real relationship I've had in months… Problem is my wonderful significant other…. He sort of broke up with me about an hour ago."

Huh. Hitsugaya let his chin lower a little and snorted loudly, boldly running a scrutinizing gaze all over the taller male almost as though he was seeing the model for the very first time. He had never really considered the possibility that this Kurosaki person could be gay, or bi, or whatever it was that had caused him to enter a liaison with another man, but for some reason he wasn't particularly surprised. Thinking back to the way the carrot-top had been literally eating the boy's legs up with his eyes the other day, it would've been quite stupid to exclude the possibility that the celebrity could have a more… unusual sexual orientation.

"Really, now? That's funny. You don't look too upset. " The boy noticed flatly, completely unimpressed by the sheepish (and annoyingly charming) grin the other one was giving him. He could definitely see where all this paparazzi adoration was coming from - this guy was born for the camera, born to be put in the spotlight where everybody could swoon over his looks and idealize his persona – he had the sort of charismatic magnetism of a star, combined with a bit of that 'ordinary- boy' sort of trait that famous people tended to lose nowadays, and the result was mind-blowing. So mind-blowing actually, that Toushiro felt it was his duty to express even more diligently the healthy amount of disdain that Kurosaki obviously wasn't receiving often enough. "Do you need me to fetch you a handkerchief or bucket or what do you need to stop all these heartbroken tears from coming?"

Ichigo shook his head features still twisted with amusement despite the now quite worrisome series of shivers that were shaking his tall frame.

"In my business it's pretty tough to get attached – people keep staring at your wallet, if you know what I mean."

"I happen not to know." Hitsugaya admitted in a drawl, trying so very hard not to roll his eyes. "But anyway, what do I have to do with your personal life failures, hm?"

"Ugh…" the uneasy expression was back on the man's face again and once again Toushiro frowned, wondering for a moment if he should've guessed some sort of implication beforehand. "Since so far you and your-"

"Cousin."

"Right. Since you and your cousin are the only ones I know around here, I was wondering if you would… agree to be my date for the night?"

Hitsugaya's eyes popped wide so suddenly he was actually surprised they didn't roll out of their sockets and tumbled down the steps. Between the desire to ask what the fuck the model meant and denote the jest as quite a good one, he somehow managed to choke on his own saliva, a disturbing mix of coughing and a laughter spilling from his lips as he stared incredulously at the man before him. He half expected Ichigo to join in with a bit of chuckling on his own part, maybe another idiotic remark that would completely stigmatize him as an imbecile… but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, the carrot-top just shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, patiently awaiting the moment when Toushiro would be able to breathe normally again.

"Oh my, you're serious." The white-haired teen forced out, the pathetic semblances of a smile dripping off his face as he finally managed to collect himself and stare at the man before him with sincere surprise. "You're-… not joking?"

"Sure." Ichigo agreed, shrugging easily as he transferred his umbrella from one hand to the other. "I'll pay you back some time."

"Like I would ever need something from you." Hitsugaya pointed out dryly and the other one's lips twisted funnily, his brown eyes shifting from the boy's face as he nodded towards something over the younger one's shoulder. Damn… Letting his expression darken with the premonition of what this probably about, Toushiro turned around just in time to see the bucket in the center of the hallway lose a good amount of its content onto the floor out of overfilling. Great. More swells in the wooden floor. Hinamori wouldn't be happy.

Turning around to face the taller male's complacent expression with his own sullen one, Hitsugaya wrinkled his nose fretfully.

"You'll get my roof fixed?"

"It'll be as good as new by tomorrow night." Ichigo stated resolutely, a bit of victory already shining in the edges of his smile as he straightened his back. "And don't worry, I'll the perfect gentleman, no funny business, no nothing."

Before him, Hitsugaya sighed, a layer of the usual biting façade peeling off his face as he reached to rub the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"You don't get it." Toushiro breathed, a bit from his exasperation returning as he shook his head and pressed his lips in a bitter line for a moment. "Out of all the people in Karakura, I'm the worst choice for you to be seen with."

"Why?" the carrot-top asked, his features suddenly softening as he tried to catch the younger one's gaze again. "You might be awfully sarcastic and overly blunt at times, but I admit: you're interesting. And smart. And-… well, yeah, pretty damn hot, too. Who wouldn't want you to be their date?"

Looking up again, Toushiro allowed a smile that was much more rueful than it was mocking to graze his lips as he let his body slump a little against the doorframe.

"I have a reputation." He admitted lowly, almost teasingly and Ichigo chuckled dismissively.

"All the better."

Toushiro had never been much of a party person – his means of having fun much more often than not managed to contradict everybody else's preferences and so instead of trying to get his point across, he had always just taken the easy way out and stayed at home whenever he got invited to something like that. Similarly, he was feeling incredibly out of place right now, his fingers already itching for a cigarette by the time he finally found himself on his own after seemingly hours of being introduced to people that he would probably never meet again. He had summoned his best attitude early on in order to appear at least partially amiable –which, yes, just so happened to mean less talking, more fake smiling – and had even allowed Ichigo to drape his arm around his waist despite the fact that such public displays had never been his forte (even if they weren't actually real). On more than one occasion so far he had asked himself as to why he had agreed to this ridiculous parade in the first place, and his wonderings, consisted as they were, had revolved mainly around the following questions: was the nagging need for a mended roof the major reason to expose himself to such depreciating activities or had he really just been looking for an excuse for a change, at least for one night? Was he seeking an opportunity to feel the lost spark of luxury, glamour and posh courtesy that always surrounded such pointless events? Was he, really?

Not so long ago, he had lived in similar house, with similar lustrous sort of furniture, similar fancy adornments, curtains, tablecloths, similarly extravagant paintings along the walls, and yes, just the same vast, dazzling and immense-looking hall that was always so convenient for gathering a limitless number of people. Not so long ago this had been his world, his path in life: money, influence, a sea of hypocritical faces with no names that would make your eyes ache with the unwanted, painfully artificial iridescence, ears that sought what wasn't theirs to know, mouths that would tattle senselessly against your neck as you pretended to care about whatever they were forcing in your already overfilled brain… Toushiro had never been the perfect fit for this atmosphere and his parents had always known it. He had an obnoxious, nocuous manner of speaking, a bunch of nasty habits that included the pointless, wayward tendency to curse whenever he felt like it, and in lieu of learning his place the way most people would under his father's heavy hand, he had just got worse with the time. Obstinate. Impudent. Brusque. He could've learned to cope and lived like the reputable son of a politician, but he had willingly and purposefully been annihilating all such loopholes from the moment he had gathered enough gray matter to form his own opinion. Sure, there had been quite a few perks that he had had the right to utilize during the old days, but Hitsugaya wasn't entirely certain if he missed those enough to return to that style of… well, existing, really. He sure wouldn't complain if he got some things back, a bit of the old, unconditional respect, maybe a working faucet or two, a hole-less roof, a non-sputtering TV and maybe-…

He looked down at the only decent outfit that he still owned.

…Maybe some clothes, too.

Pushing away the intrusive thoughts, Hitsugaya made his way to the end of the room, thanking every deity out there that Ichigo didn't know many people from Karakura and thus there would not be any nasty talking behind his back. He didn't usually mind gossip – in fact, he complimented himself to be quite above these things – but he had the feeling that if he stumbled upon anyone that he knew, one such incident would have the power to destroy his mood for the evening completely and irreversibly. Sure, this wasn't the most entertaining place he could think of, but it was alright. Free food. Free drinks. People were actually talking to him…

…He dared let the edges of his lips curl upwards just a bit.

And yeah, as promised, Kurosaki was being quite the gentleman.

"Soo, you are Ichigo's new conquest, huh?" an unfamiliar voice asked and Toushiro lifted his gaze from where he had been scanning the bottles of alcohol on the large table in the corner to smile dryly at the man beside him.

"Conquest?" he repeated, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be polite. "Doesn't that sound flattering?"

The man let out a genuine chuckle at that comment, the laid-back smile and the pair of surprisingly charming drowsy eyes making Toushiro's brows jolt upwards with a hint of interest. He wasn't sure how old this man was (his whole looks - from the long auburn wavy hair to the unshaved beard and the casual attire – gave him a sort of ageless air that very few possessed) but instead of the imposing erudite mask that the rest of the guests refused to take off, he had a bit of that easy-going radiance that usually belonged to teenagers.

And Hitsugaya found himself rather relieved to meet someone like that.

"Didn't mean to offend you." the older male stated with a blithe little smile that somehow managed to pull one of Toushiro's rare ones to the surface as well. "I don't think we've met before. Nice to meet you kid."

"I'm not a kid." Hitsugaya noticed (not unkindly) as he took the other one's hand and shook it, jade eyes warming up a bit underneath the icy crust as he watched the other man's grin broaden in an avuncular fashion.

"Kyouraku Shunsui, And you must be-"

"Toushiro." The boy replied, surprising even himself by how reluctant he suddenly felt towards the perspective of offering his last name. Watching the taller one's brow arch questionably, the boy bit his lower lip before adding. "Hitsugaya Toushiro."

"Hitsugaya?" Kyouraku repeated, obviously surprised as he turned to the table and plucked a bottle out of the line of half-empty ones to pour himself a drink. "Any possible relation to the mayor?"

Toushiro shook his head, a chunk of bitter laughter spilling from his lips as he let the lie leave his mouth with absolutely no difficulty.

"No. Just a coincidence."

"Funny." The man stated noncommittally as his hand absently swished the alcohol around in its transparent confines before lifting the half-filled glass to his lips and letting him take an experimental sip. "Do you do anything for a living or do you do Ichigo for a living?"

"I'm not generally fond of doing people for a living but, oh, you got me." Toushiro deadpanned sarcastically, not really disturbed by the implication. "Ichigo's my big exception. He's pretty profitable, like fucking a sexy piggy bank and I just couldn't help myself – I had to have him." Clicking his tongue thoughtfully, the boy reached for a wine from the end of the row and after giving the label a thorough scan, he poured himself a good amount of the crimson liquid, all the while humming a nameless tune under his breath. Beside him the taller male let out a curt laugh but didn't say anything, obviously waiting for the smaller male to finish – a fact that had Hitsugaya sighing wearily just a moment later before adding. "I do street art, I suppose."

"Street art?" Shunsui repeated, a hint of fascination flashing in his voice. "Graffiti?"

"Yup." Hitsugaya agreed with a little popping emphasize on the last letter, gaze still focused on his beverage as he lifted it to his eye-level and examined it with a blank stare. "Graffiti. You know… the illegal stuff that can get you arrested."

There was a small pause during which Toushiro calmly sipped his wine, half expecting the other man to say something debasing towards such means of self-expression, or even to walk away without a word (because it didn't take a genius to realize that talking about a sort of hooliganism with high-class people was not a smart thing to do) but instead, a low shuffling sound came from Kyouraku's direction and a moment later a small notepad and pen were shoved under the boy's nose.

"Do you mind showing me?" the man asked and Hitsugaya nearly sputtered the whine all over the table.

"W-what?"

"Draw something. Anything, actually, I've always been interested in this sort of technique." The man stated seriously and Toushiro's jaw went slack.

Ten minutes later he was handing a simple sketch back to the older guy, who looked down at the image and beamed, seemingly incredibly pleased with something.

"Impressive." He stated professionally. "I'd be curious to see what you can do with colours. Hitsugaya Toushiro, was it?"

"Yeaaah…" the boy drawled, not really trying to hide the suspicion that poured into his voice.

"Perfect!" the man stated, smiling broadly. "We'll speak again."

And just like that, Kyouraku was gone, leaving a thoroughly puzzled Toushiro to himself.

Hitsugaya was pretty sure that after being introduced to every important person that he had to be introduced to, he'd have to spend the rest of the night by himself. Seeing as Shunsui had successfully managed to vanish into thin air, the boy decided that the wisest thing to do was steal a bottle from this wine that he found particularly good, and hide somewhere to selfishly drink it all by himself. It was a simple plan really, easy to accomplish, and he would've definitely got through with it, had it not been for a certain carrot-top that caught his arm just as Toushiro was crossing the hall to find himself a quiet dark hole to crawl in.

"Planning on getting wasted?" Ichigo questioned warmly, looking down at the wine that Hitsugaya was holding fondly in his right hand, absolutely no signs of any glasses anywhere in their immediate vicinity. Toushiro looked down at the set of tan fingers that the other one had wrapped just above his elbow and raised a brow, sincerely confused for a second time that evening.

"So?" the boy asked, impatience seeping from his tone. "Are you specifically attached to this particular bottle, because I can get another one. Even though I really don't want to."

"Don't be silly." The carrot-top chuckled, tugging the wine out of Hitsugaya's hold and sticking it in the nearest potted plant without much care. "You're not getting drunk like some lonely spinster; I'm your date, I managed to get rid of everybody else and now I'm going to entertain you."

"Really?" Toushiro asked flatly and very, very incredulously, his eyes trailing with longing towards the potted plant. "Are you sure? I can always-"

"Yes. Really." Ichigo replied firmly, grinning lop-sidedly at the reluctance that didn't fail to emerge on the smaller male's face. "And yes. I'm sure. Now come on."

"Come on where?" Hitsugaya inquired, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as the taller male proceeded to drag him towards the front door, grabbing his and Toushiro's coat on the way. "Outside?"

"Of course. Did you have anything else in mind?"

"But- But your shitty excuse of a party!" the boy objected indignantly, making a futile attempt to halt the towing by digging his heels into the ground and pointing over his shoulder with confusion. "It's your fucking party! Are you going to ditch your own fucking party?"

Ichigo barely glanced back to give the smaller male an amused grin.

"Well, it is a pretty boring one, isn't it?" he stated easily before opening the front door and ushering his date on the dark porch.

"So let me get this straight," Hitsugaya drawled, his expression still one of genuine confusion as he reached for one of the ice-creams that Ichigo had bought for both of them from a round-the-clock shop just a few meters from the bench Toushiro was currently occupying. "You throw parties for certain occasions, because 'you just have to' and then right after greeting everyone, you ditch?"

"Yup." The carrot-top agreed before taking a seat beside the smaller male, fingers already working on unwrapping the strawberry (oh, God, the irony!) ice-cream with incredible expertise. "But, c'mon, you can't blame me. You were the one who tried to sneak out with a whole bottle of wine."

"That's irrelevant." Toushiro immediately objected, legs dangling restlessly off the edge of the bench as he finally got rid of his dessert's cover and took a trial lick. "You can't prove that I was planning to consume the content of that bottle, and neither do you have any evidence that there was actual alcohol in said bottle, as well."

"Oh, please, what was it, then?"

"Oh, puh-lease!" Toushiro mimicked with an overly high-pitched voice before adding much more flatly, a small smile twisting his lips. "Grape juice."

"Right. Fermented one?"

"I can't say, I didn't have the chance to check because someone decided to feed it to the fichus."

"Gee. Does anyone buy the things you say?"

"Another irrelevant statement. I suggest you just admit defeat before it's too late."

Ichigo gave the smaller male a pointed look, a low snort breaking through his lips as he raised a questioning brow.

"Defeat?" he repeated incredulously tilting his head a little to the side to take a closer look at Hitsugaya's face. "Really?"

"Yes. That's when you lose." Toushiro explained airily, mouth half latched on the ice-cream as he glanced at the taller male with the corner of his eye. "Which would be when you don't win."

Ichigo chuckled, shaking his head a little as he leaned back against the bench, impossibly long legs stretching forward as he slumped in the uncomfortable seat.

"I know what it means." He teased softly and when Hitsugaya opened his mouth, preparing to make another remark, the carrot-top added hurriedly. "If I' admit defeat', will that make you happy?"

Toushiro's mouth instantly cracked into a huge, obviously fake smile and he nodded his head, claiming that yes, that would promptly turn him into the happiest person in the world.

"Well, alright then, I acknowledge your superiority." The orange-haired man shrugged carelessly and beside him the ends of the boy's lips instantly pulled downwards, this time creating an expression of complete tedium as he proceeded to nibble at the edge of his cone morosely.

"Ugh. You're so easy." Toushiro groused with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and Ichigo blinked, momentarily taken aback.

"Well, good thing then that you happen to be so difficult." The carrot-top pointed out flippantly, not really putting any malice in his tone as he kept eating his ice-cream, his shoulder tensing just a bit when the other one's jade eyes snapped in his direction.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Toushiro muttered in his trademark deadpan sarcasm. "Would you like me to get on my knees right now and blow you as a means of apology?"

"That would be great, yeah."

Without so much of a second thought, Hitsugaya reached behind the taller male and heartlessly smacked him upside the head like adults often did to show their kids that they had said something inappropriate. It wasn't much of a hit, neither was it meant to inflict any actual pain, but it was unpleasant nonetheless (especially since it had nearly made the carrot-top sniff some of the icy dessert through his nose) and Ichigo "omphed" softly, hand shooting up to rub the sore spot at the back of his neck. Figuring that he had gone over the top with this last comment, the taller male let out a low sigh and opened his mouth say that he was sorry, when the strangest sound grazed his ears and he froze.

"Are you-… Are you laughing?" the carrot-top queried suspiciously, watching in shock as the Toushiro's shoulder shook harder, the hand covering his mouth hardly stifling the little sounds that were spilling from the boy's lips and between his fingers. Doubling over to possibly fight off the urge to guffaw like a maniac, the younger male barely showed any resistance as Ichigo boldly grasped the thin little wrist to pull Hitsugaya's palm away from his face. "You are laughing! Damn, I thought you didn't possess the ability to do that!"

"Shut up." Toushiro managed, his fit getting worse the moment his eyes landed on the taller one's victorious grin. "Shut up. You're crazy. You're crazy."

"How am I crazy Mr. Tim Burton?"

Forcing himself to calm down, Hitsugaya finally leaned back, a cheeky little smile still adorning his lips as he shook his head condescendingly before glancing at the man beside him.

"You put up with me." He explained quietly, his head tilting to the side a little. "No one puts up with me."

Beside him Ichigo let his features relax in the gentlest of smiles, his hand that was still wrapped around the smaller one's wrist moving a bit to graze a timid thumb across the pale flesh.

"I'm willing to put up with you every day if you'd let me."

A/N: Ta-da! I hope it wasn't too slow. Make me happy and I'll update soon. ^^