I have lots of excuses as to why I keep disappearing, reappearing, updating, and then disappearing all over again, honest. Most have to do with my crappy health, lack of internet access and just not having a computer that works.

That being said, I found one of my old flash-drives today and after begging yet another friend into loaning me their laptop, voilà! Chapter two. It's been...awhile so you may need to read over chapter one to refresh.

Btw, even though Ichigo is a drug addict, you guys still like it? I'm awestruck. Really, thanks for the support!

Disclaimer: Nah.

Mangled Fate

Chapter Two

Following him home

He was absolutely positive that she wasn't real—seriously, what girl would ever consider going home with him? The idea was absolutely laughable. Besides, he was used to being constantly followed by hallucinations. The unpleasant visits were just something he had progressively learned to tolerate. Because, really, what else could he do?

But then again, she had been polite enough to ask. None of the others ever allowed him that amount of say in the matter. The smirking, well dressed tabby hadn't bothered asking, that's for sure. The thing had just decided to float alongside them, the sound of its constant snickering grinding at Ichigo's nerves like sharp claws raking against his brittle sanity.

It was maddening but he was well accustomed to ignoring such illusions. At least the caroling spiders had decided to stay put on the subway. It was truly a blessing. He really hated spiders.

As Rukia sauntered on at his side, Ichigo was the first to admit that he was use to overbearing, troublesome images that fought constantly for his attention. It seemed to come with the territory but this girl appeared to be the exact opposite, a contradiction of sorts when compared to the usual projections of his mind. Easy going, almost childish, understanding, and down to earth; she was the breath of fresh air that he had unknowingly been craving.

There was no point in denying the obvious now.

As they walked on in silence, Ichigo came to the realization that he really liked this hallucination—Rukia. She reminded him of one of those elegant dolls often found in upper class store windows. Creamy alabaster skin, waves of shimmering raven strands that fell about her chin— playing at the base of her nape, and of course, the most beautiful contrast of colors he had ever seen in her mismatched orbs. The only thing missing was her stand, or maybe, a music box.

She pressed into his side with a cheery hum and Ichigo questioned if there was any possible way to trick his mind, a way to force his consciousness into only seeing her, rather than his usual batch of madness. Even if she was only a figment of his imagination, he wanted her to stay. That way, he could put her in a graceful music box and keep her forever.

Despite the overly possessive thought, Ichigo was no fool. He knew all good things eventually had to come to an end. How long would she stay? He couldn't help but wonder as he watched her with his soft, nearly defeated pools of brown. The majority of his most hated images stuck around for days, taunting him, ridiculing him, but how long would this positive little girl stay before she vanished from his life for good?

Heart pounding away at his anxiety ridden thoughts, Ichigo chewed harshly at his bottom lip like a cow feasting on cud, apprehension holding strong. He hadn't realized that his nails were digging into the rough skin of his palms until he felt the faint familiar sting of red against flesh. Really, he needed to control himself before his fears resulted in a heart attack.

All the same, he was a pessimist by nature and it was obvious that more images could join them at any moment. That was, more psychopathic illusions that would just love to fuck with his newly obtained happiness.

A strange mixture of numbness and dread overtook him at the thought, and, shifting his gaze to the porcelain figment of his imagination, the bright headed man forcing himself to take a calming breath.

He couldn't freak out now. He didn't want to do anything stupid to scare her away, so reverting to his normally loud, angry, and paranoid state-of-mind wasn't a risk he was willing to take. Not when she was inquiringly gazing up at him with that tiny little smirk on her completely kissable lips.

…Wait. What?

Ears burning at the blindsided and extremely confusing revelation, Ichigo did his best to stay strong. Those kinds of thoughts were an absolute waste of time. He knew that, but it did little to calm his overpowering embarrassing. Facing ahead, scowl still in its rightful place, he held back a curse.

He never thought he would ever become so attached to a hallucination.

"We're here." The male choked out as evenly as possible as they came to a stop at his door step, clunky keys finding their way from his jean pocket into his abused palm. Rukia simply watched on patiently as his shaky hands attempted to work at the lock of his shitty door. Each fiddle with the ring of metal, each failed attempt, caused his pained scowl to deepen. Why did things always have to be so difficult?

"Hey," Rukia broke in softly, sensing his frustration. A tiny hand found his arm, calming the volcano of rage that was building within him with a simple touch, "I can do that."

That action—the soft contact nearly caused Ichigo to purr as every negative emotion seemed to fall from his shoulders. It was strange, but maybe rather than belonging in an expensive store window, his little visitor was actually more like a woodland fairy; the kind that only existed in the bedtime story his mother used to read to his baby sisters. Tiny little sprites that held the power to calm everything and everyone around them with a simple smile or the faintest touch—it seemed extremely accurate.

The only thing missing was a fitting set of wings. He couldn't help but wonder, if he was able to imagine her with a pair big enough, would his little sprite consider taking him with her when she finally decided to fly off for good?

It was clear that Ichigo's constant pondering seemed like a double-edged blade. But then again, maybe it was all just pointless bullshit. Maybe she was just his weakness.

Probably.

Then, his name left her lips as soft whisper, reminding, the tone pushing Ichigo from his thoughts.

The door. Right.

He didn't even try arguing. He was too drained, too lost to accomplice something so complex. Fingers brushing against hers, he fought off a pleasant shiver as he handed over the jingling ring of silver. Seemingly unaffected, Rukia took his spot before the door with a simple hop as the man moved aside with a nervous glance over his shoulder.

His mind was constantly playing tricks on him, and thus, Ichigo was used to being watched. He was continuously telling himself to ignore their ploys for attention, but this time he just couldn't stop his himself. Predictably, looking had been an awful idea. The ginger's lips thinned as he gave a disturbed huff at the sight that greeted him. Along the rocks that made up the path to his apartment building, the fancy feline was dancing with the leotard wearing leprechauns that apparently protected Ichigo's household.

Well, that was sure different. Normally that group of hallucinations would have just tried to set him on fire or something else equally horrifying. But dancing—they were never that pleasant.

Ambers narrowed.

His mother had loved all that chic bullshit so he was disturbingly knowledgeable on the subject. A tip-tap beat, the scuffle of gravel, the way his insanity moved to the sound…Yup, defiantly Tango.

The image alone was almost more disturbing than being burnt alive.

Watching on, another thought followed. Maybe Rukia wasn't only calming him, but his mind's creations as well. At least, that would explain their creepy, happy-go-lucky behavior.

A click found his ears, his front door unquestionably being squeaked open but he paid the noise little mind as he contemplated the prospect. Sure, it was possible but he really doubted that even Rukia could cause such a drastic change so quickly. He wasn't that lucky. Those assholes were probably just fucking with him.

Openly glaring at his insanity, their routine gradually turning into a Foxtrot, little fingers found his sleeve, pulling ever so slightly, gradually gaining his attention.

"You coming, Ichigo?"

…Oh.

Tilting his head in her direction, the redhead blinked several times, trying to gain back his wandering focus whereas Rukia watched on carefully, her gaze soft as she tugged at his sleeve once again.

He felt hopeless.

Following her dumbly into his own apartment without a word, his mind seemed to be working as fast as a steamed vegetable. However, he couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't freaking out after that scene in his front yard. He might be used to their antics but surely she couldn't pass something like that off as normal. The whole situation was almost embarrassing, but then again, there was no doubt in his mind that that was the images' main objective; to embarrass him in front of this sweet little woman.

Well, that was, if Rukia could see them to begin with.

Ichigo shook his head. Hm, could hallucinations actually see each other? Sure, the cat and the tiny Irish elves seemed to be getting along just fine, but where did his little sprite fit into all of this?

He had no idea.

But then again, Hallucination Psychology wasn't exactly his forte.

His madness continued to snicker at his expense, most likely plotting his destruction as they danced away without a care in a world.

Bastards.

Ichigo could only throw them a deadly snarl over his shoulder as he was dragged into his dwelling by a tiny hand.

The door closed behind them, dull lights being flicked on overhead. The combined actions brought the ginger back to the current situation. Now that the dance party was out of sight, Ichigo had the opportunity to fret over other, more important, matters. Like, what the shit he was supposed to do next…

He could admit that even if Rukia was just another one of his illusions, she was different. Special. And to top it off, she was also female.

He could admit that he was never very smart when it came to the opposite sex.

As she proceeded to slip off her shoes, the little pixy lining them up neatly beside his wobbly coat rack, Ichigo had to physically hold back the urge to vomit.

Fuck.

He did his best to hide his overactive nerves. Even if he was pretty sure he looked green enough to pass as a spiky head of broccoli.

Eyes digging into the tile floor, the male's muddy Converses were kicked off with a jolt of movement. He had to act normal.

Even if there was a winged antelope playing hopscotch on his kitchen table—

Ichigo's scowl deepened. He thought that one left this morning. Huh.

"I like your place." Rukia quipped absentmindedly as she made her way into the adjoining living room, her small smile still in place as she curled up on his couch, "It's cozy."

Well, apparently she hadn't noticed their strange company or else she had simply chosen not to comment. In any case, "cozy" was sure as hell a kind word to describe his personal shithole.

He didn't have much. That was obviously.

It was better than nothing but that fact alone didn't stop him from fidgeting where he stood, eyeing his living space with an unusually critical stare. Old tattered furniture filled the grimy little place he called home while moldy takeout containers, beers cans, and empty pill bottles could be seen scattered about the area in random heaps of disarray.

Hm. Were those needles, too?

…Yup.

Humiliation—Check.

Sure, there was no possible way could have known that he would be bring home this tiny woman but Ichigo couldn't help wishing that he had taken the time to straighten up this morning before commencing with his usual…activities.

That would have been the only available option because now, he was just too shitfaced to even consider something so trying as cleaning.

That aside, Ichigo felt like a complete dirtbag. He wished he had more to offer her but that inner shame only lasted a moment.

A thought reached him: did hallucinations actually care about tidiness? He wasn't sure. It had never mattered before now. Before her.

Even so, he couldn't help himself. "Errr," Ichigo's hand rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, eyes wandering as he held back his pressing embarrassment, "Sorry about the mess."

His uneasy mumble had Rukia turning to look over the back of the couch with a smirk. She gave a simple shrug in reply, an eyebrow raised playfully; underline seriousness seen, "Like I said. It's cozy."

"Oh." He felt his breath hitch at her clear sincerity. Yeah. He really liked this hallucination. He just couldn't help it. "Well, can I get you something to eat?" The question was asked more out of habit, out of politeness, than actual concern—Ichigo was pretty sure that his mind's images didn't get hungry.

Tugging the book that she had been reading on the subway onto her lap, Rukia shook her head gently, the motion ruffling her dark strands as the novel was opened with a soft creak. "That's ok. I'm fine."

The girl clearly putting an end to their trivial conversation, a candy bar wrapper was pulled from her page, the crumpled material being used as a makeshift bookmark.

Ichigo figured he should have been grateful that she wasn't as demanding as his other hallucinations. That she could find a way to entertain herself. He knew that, but he couldn't help but fidget where he stood, lost for words and feeling extremely awkward. He wanted to keep her talking, give her a reason to stay. He just didn't know how.

So, he settled for nodding dumbly. It was something, a place to start. Though, he didn't think she noticed. Her matchless gaze had already shifted; it was clear that she was busying herself, the little female continuing to read where she had left off.

Ichigo felt disappointed, thwarted.

As he stalked into his nearby kitchen, trying to busy himself, thoughts of his little sprite quickly resurfaced.

Maybe I'm just not cut out from normal conversation.

Clearly that was the understatement of the year.

But he was right—Rukia hadn't noticed his actions. Her mind was too preoccupied at the moment to detect his self-defeated movements. The letters set before her were dark, words inked in a thick black font. This chapter—it was the very same chapter that pushed her to this outcome. That gave her this man.

That thought alone was enough to distract her—thoughts of him. From the very moment of their meeting, he was quiet but delightfully intense. One (rather obvious) glance her way could cause her stomach to flip, ears to buzz, breath the hitch.

He was different.

She let out a shaky breath of air.

It was a strange realization, a tingle in her chest, but it felt as if she had known him for ages. A long-lost friend that finally decided to come back to her and, for once in her life, she wasn't ashamed of her ability. Actually, in that moment, Rukia wanted to know more about the future—more about this captivating male. Maybe this novel held the answers, just as it had during their meeting.

She could only hope.

Ignorant of Rukia's musing, molted browns narrowed hotly as him entering into the cooking space triggered a complete uproar. Cupboards were screaming at him again, their imagined faces carved into the oak, their high-pitched Cockney accents mere squeals against his senses.

…Noisy bastards.

Rubbing hotly at his temples, the ginger did his best to hold his temper in check.

Ignore them. Ignore them.

Though, some were harder to ignore than others.

Like the radioactive cockroaches that were zooming along his countertops in little toy race cars. He wanted to yell at them for their rudeness but held his tongue. Sitting through an unoriginal set of knock-knock jokes was the only known way to get those repulsive insects to leave and he just wasn't feeling up to it.

Focusing his attention on the cans of Dr Pepper and collection of beer that was sitting on top his fridge, Ichigo held back a huff.

Looks like it's time to be a good host.

A far off thud sounded, the noise causing her to peek up from her paragraph through a veil of dark tresses and fluttering eyelashes. At the sight of Ichigo set before his refrigerator, balancing a train of soda cans against his wobbly palms, Rukia quickly moved to stand with wide eyes.

"No—I," He stopped her with a shake his head, a forced grin in place as he teetered on his heels, hands outstretched. "I got it."

Unsure, Rukia fell back against the couch cushions, concerned, watching.

Not knowing what to do.

With a tug, Ichigo stumbled backwards, drinks barely caught within his wobbly arms.

"You thirsty?" He called out blandly once settled, embarrassment clear, "…I have soda if you're thirsty."

The little fairy blinked.

The lighting of his kitchen made his locks glow an even brighter shade of orange.

She had always adored orange.

Rukia hid her smile in the novel's pages, "No thank you."

Her polite decline caused Ichigo to heave a sigh. She seemed to be getting a real kick out of his horrible attempts at normalcy.

She's lucky she's cute—

Ichigo's scowl deepened at the thought. What the fuck is wrong with me?

He needed to get his shit together. His images' screaming was causing his head to throb.

The male moved to snatch up a beer, throwing back a bitter mouthful.

Thank god for alcohol.

Apparently the antelope left, but that didn't stop the smirking tabby from joining in on the fun. It let out a distorted laugh from its previously unseen place on the kitchen table.

He didn't remember letting that one back in.

Proscription bottles that were strewn along his counter were gathered as he gave the immature hallucination the cold shoulder. It would leave eventually. He just needed to give it a slight push. No better way than frank disregard to get his point across.

It normally worked. That is, if the now sleeping cupboards were any indication.

The beer was delightfully bitter against his tongue as a mouthful of pills were swallowed. Some that were meant to be cut in half and taken twice a day were wholly thrown into the assortment that was consumed every two hours. They were for pain, others, for diagnoses that he had long ago forgotten, that had nothing to do with him. His pal turned shady pharmacist enjoyed Ichigo's business, despite their unquestionably unethical partnership.

With his craving finally taken care of, he tumbled into his living room with his half empty beer in hand.

He was already feeling better, the medication quickly taking mental effect. Wordlessly, Ichigo plopped down at her side; body hunched as his nursed his warm Newcastle timidly.

Rukia didn't make a sound, the slight shift of her fingertips against the novel's spine being the only indication that she noticed him at all.

He was unable to control his curiosity any longer, "Sooo, watcha reading?"

She met his stare, the side of her mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly, "A book."

Ichigo was proud he managed a proper eye roll in his current condition. "Oh yeah? Well, what's it about?"

Her gorgeous eyes were drowning him. "Monsters."

"Oh." He blinked, trying to clear his head, "Cool."

And that was that.

Despite the comforting quiet that soon surrounded them, Ichigo felt lost for words—not to mention light-headed and excessively warm.

It had to be the pills. It was always the pills. His gaze fell to his blackened television, staring numbly as the heat intensified. Ten minutes later and yeah there was no doubt that the meds were getting to him. Pages fluttering at his side, Ichigo set his beer on the coffee table before letting out an irritated huff.

He clumsily tugged off his jacket and immediately felt a difference. Rukia glanced up shyly as he finally settled against the cushions, now left in a clammy white wife beater and ripped jeans.

Her breath hitching, scars were everywhere she could see. The marks were so much worse than her brief encounter from her vision.

Rukia swallowed thickly, holding back for now.

"You feeling alright?"

To her constant surprise, Ichigo turned her way, eyes heavy as he rested his spiky head against the back of the couch. "Yeah, I'm just kinda…out of it."

He almost flinched away when one of her sleeve enclosed palms found his forehead.

Almost.

"You feel warm." Her brows furrowed, fingertips peeking out from within cotton.

He gave a grunt. "Kinda feel sick to my stomach."

It was accurate enough.

She sounded honestly concern, "Do you wanna lie down? It might help."

His hand found hers against his skin, tugging, his refusal quick, "No. You might not be here when I wake up."

Rukia let out a humorless chuckle as she glanced away from his heated gaze, his wounded flesh, "I'll be here. I kinda have nowhere else to go."

It wasn't as if she had a home to go back to anyway. Besides, the weather was making sleeping in the park, within the scarce protection of the darkened playground tunnel, all the more dangerous.

At the sight of her troubled expression, Ichigo took a chance. The hand not wrapped around hers found her shoulder, then her neck, fingers playing against the silky strands of black, comforting.

"Lie down with me?"

Such an intimate tone that was completely overthrown by his innocent stare, a stark contrast of emotions— she couldn't help the grin that overtook her.

He was sure a handful.

"Okay." Reluctantly pulling away from his hold, Rukia once again stood and helped him to his feet, "...Yeah. Let's lie down."

A smile found him.

"After you, little pixie."

/To be continued/

Preview for chapter three:

Ichigo's hand found her waist without thought, scooting closer, the male childishly burying his face against her shoulder, seemingly hiding against her soft skin. Hiding from the judgment of the world, the monsters that resided in his closet, the creepers lurching underneath his bed. It was almost as if this tiny female could protect him from the very demons that were threatening to send him spiraling out of control.

He never wanted to let her go.

A/N:Pretty sure our lovely couple is a bit out of character here (lack of internet sadly means lack of Bleach, too) but then again, Ichigo isn't actually a drug addict and Rukia was never institutionalized due to mental issues/abilities in the manga/anime so… fanfiction ^^

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and where I went with it. More to come and hopefully less time between updates.

Did you know that reviews make the world go round? ;)