Briar: So, this is rated M for a reason. Also, I made Ichigo 5'3" just 'cause it'd be cute to see him small and i've never really done it before so deal with it.

Leave me alone, please.

The only barrier between Kurosaki Ichigo and his boyfriend was a white wooden door. Sosuke Aizen continued the loud banging, causing Ichigo to jump. The noise was most likely created by Aizen slamming his fist against the wall. It was the same endless cycle once Aizen got wound up and began to drink but Ichigo should have known better. If he hadn't asked what had happened Aizen wouldn't have gotten angry at him and they might have gone to bed peacefully. If only Ichigo wasn't so stupid he wouldn't have to suffer the repercussions for his actions.

"You stupid bitch!" Aizen slurred. "Open the damn fucking door, now!"

Curling into a tighter ball, Ichigo's entire frame shook in fear. His breathing was shaky as he tried to remind himself that he was safe in the bathroom with the door locked. That was a lie he told himself. There was no stopping Aizen when he was in a rage. Ichigo's heart still managed to hammer against his chest just like Aizen's fist against the door though. Ba bump, ba bump.

It was obvious to Ichigo that his boyfriend of eight years was intoxicated or else he wouldn't be as wound up as he was. He could still be as furious sober but most of the time Aizen had some sort of alcohol in his system. Ichigo wondered what Aizen spent his money on today. What was it, tequila? Whiskey? Vodka? Ichigo had run to the bathroom as soon as he heard the door slam open. Even if Aizen was drunk it wouldn't be too hard for him to break the door off its hinges; it happened before. There was no stopping Aizen on a rampage and Ichigo would be the target of Aizen's aggression.

"Fuck!" Aizen cursed. "Ichigo! Don't make me repeat myself again. Open the goddamn door, now!"

The outburst had Ichigo pause in rocking his body back in forth; something he was unware of until now. The sound of beer cans being pushed around reached Ichigo's ears and more drunken nonsense spewed from his mouth. However, the sound of Aizen's footsteps had Ichigo's breath hitch in his throat, knowing that Aizen's drunken mind had formulated some sort of devious plan. In case he decided to kick down the door, Ichigo scooted back so that he was against the bathtub. It was only a few feet from the door but it was better to be safe than sorry. Either way he was trapped and cornered and once Aizen got that door out of the way Ichigo would feel Aizen's wrath.

He's gonna kick down the bloody door and finally kill me, Ichigo thought to himself.

Light rapping against the door had Ichigo looking at his barrier in confusion, unsure of what would happen next. Aizen was unpredictable and could be loving one moment then beating him the next. There was no point in Ichigo holding a weapon because Aizen would use it against him. Ichigo had learned his lesson the hard way and had a scar above his eyebrow where Aizen had cut him. Aizen was over six feet tall while Ichigo was 5'3". There was about an eight inch difference. Aizen wasted most of his and Ichigo's money on his alcohol leaving little to no room for food. Food banks doled out their donations but when angry Aizen threw the food out or would eat it when he decided to get stoned.

"Ich," Aizen whispered softly. "I didn't mean it. Please, let me in. I'm sorry; I love you. Please let me in."

Don't call me that anymore. I'm not your Ichi; I'm nothing.

The request was stuck in Ichigo's mouth just like every other time he tried to speak against Aizen. There was no bravery left in Ichigo after Aizen beat it out of him. It wasn't out of hatred, that's what Ichigo told himself. It was his mistakes that caused him to get hurt and if he wasn't so stupid Aizen wouldn't have to get angry.

"Please baby," Aizen begged. "You ignoring me like this makes me want to go kill myself. Please talk to me. Don't make me use the knife to cut out my heart. Will you be satisfied then? When I'm dead and gone?"

Pulling on his orange locks, Ichigo began to rock back and forth in an attempt to cope with his anxiety. It was skyrocketing, giving him problems breathing as pain emerged from his chest as he could feel sweat form. He reeked of fear and was unable to calm himself. He could feel the cold sweat drenching his form.

Words began to form in Ichigo's mind. Words, definitions and how to use them. It was a way to calm himself down since the beatings begun. Even before then Ichigo was quite the logophile and lexiconophilist. As he rocked back and forth he remembered words that were both unique and complete.

Flibbertigibbet: Noun. Means someone who is a frivolous, flighty or someone who talks way too much, Ichigo thought to himself as he tried to calm himself down.

"J-just l-l-leave me a-alone!" Ichigo begged with tears streaming down his face.

"Fine!" Aizen snapped angrily and hit the door once more. "You no good fuckin' cunt, see how I feel once I leave your ass for good. Won't be laughing then when you're on the street and have to sell yourself like the whore you are!"

Dichotomy: Noun. Division or contrast between two things that are opposed or different from one another. A contrast.

Ichigo began to shake his head in the negative as his rocking stopped only to have him wrap his arms around himself even tighter. The sound of dishes breaking against the tiling had Ichigo jump, the tears that had been falling down his face becoming noticeable as they landed on his arms. It went on for a few minutes, the breaking of dishes, cupboard slamming and a loud thud as well as a crash. If Aizen had brought home any glass bottles the shattering smash was what Ichigo heard from the bathroom.

"Just a dirty whore," Ichigo muttered to himself as the glass door to their home slammed shut.

Knowing that Aizen had left, no doubt to get more alcohol from a bar since the liquor stores were closed. Ichigo opened the cupboard where they kept towels. Inside was a Q-tip box that had no Q-tips. Once Ichigo found that little blue box he opened it, taking out the Ativan pills as well as the knife he kept. It wasn't a knife for self defense but rather self-harm. Underneath the long sleeved t-shirts and jeans were bruises of various colors, scars and cuts of different depths and length. Some were self-inflicted while others were caused by Aizen in his drunken rage.

"Need to learn to shut my mouth," Ichigo whispered to himself as he looked back and forth to the Ativan.

The medication Ichigo had was bought off of the streets was better than taking marijuana to calm down and far less noticeable. Once when Aizen caught him drinking a glass of whiskey and the result was his hand slapped so that the glass spilled onto the carpet, staining it. That wasn't all though, since he was near their small kitchen his head was slammed into the wall. There was still a dent from the impact and Ichigo had passed out. He would have went to the hospital to see if he had a concussion but Aizen refused to let him go, pleading and when that didn't work he held Ichigo down with one hand and began to grasp his throat. He refused to remove his hands until Ichigo promised not to go to the hospital.

"He won't notice the cuts," Ichigo decided.

It was a true statement. Even if he did, it was safe for Aizen to assume he had blacked out at some point and began to cut Ichigo. Just the thought had Ichigo shaking more at Aizen returning even more intoxicated and demanding sex. And what Aizen wanted, Aizen got.

"It'll be alright," Ichigo promised himself.

Rolling up his sleeve. Ichigo looked at his pale skin. Some scares were a shiny pink while others were a dull pink, almost white. If he were a darker tone the scars would be less noticeable but he had lost some skin tone with being inside aside from the few hours a week he got from working at a corner store. This was the only pleasure Ichigo ever seemed to get, cutting his wrists or any surface available. As the blade dug into his skin he began to calm down. The pain was minimal compared to what he normally endured. Ruby red blood emerged from the scars and a warm smile formed on Ichigo's face as it splattered onto the bathroom tiles.

Can't stop.

Another slash. More blood.

Won't stop.

Splat!

To Ichigo he didn't feel any warmth from the blood that leaked from his body. He could only stare at the blood that came from his arms but it wasn't deep enough for Ichigo. The wound he had created seemed too shallow and cut even deeper. Wiping the blood from the cut, Ichigo went even deeper. It gave him the satisfaction, a smile forming on his face. This was his only safety. The one thing that he could control in his life. Something that Aizen could never take away from him.

Briar: Thank you guest review who pointed out I wrote Quinto instead of Ichigo. I was working on a different story and musta mad an error