AN. this is my first fan fic AND my first yaoi story. Ive got the opening down (obviously) and an ending in mind but the body of the story is still under work so I cant really tell you where this will go or how long it will be.
Blackness. Vague sounds registered faintly in the background. Long minutes drew past, the steady sounds of high pitched yet quiet beeping and forced air drew him forward. Heavy darkness gave way to blinding white and confusion. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision and make sense of this bright world. The sound of his name being called over and over again slowly drew his attention. He let his head fall to the side. A brilliant blue smudge broke through the blinding, unending surface of white, indistinct, blurred, spectral.
Chapter 1. Ink and Ass holes
A year ago.
Ichigo was your fairly typical college student; he got good grades, he was a star on the track team and was well liked by most of his teachers and loved by his small group of friends. He and his best friend had opted to rent an apartment together, off campus, which had been a small blessing in disguise. He preferred cats to dogs, bright colors to dull, men over women, and veggies over meat. He worked a part time job a few nights a week and on the weekends at a local club. His employer was odd, but cool and understanding. Over all, Ichigo couldn't really complain much.
But, like all people, some days were better than others. Today just had to be one of those days. He just had to take that short cut to get to work a little earlier and cross the street into Zabimaru territory.
"Fuck you!" Blood dribbled down his chin as he stumbled backward. The young man wiped it away with the back of his hand and his arms were caught and held behind him by an unseen man. He struggled and warred with the figure behind him, grunting with the effort. He had gotten used to this routine by now, the same thing happened all through out his young life, it was naive of him to think it would have changed when he left for college. It was his ridiculous, natural, orange hair in grade school, his sexual orientation in high school, and college was no better. The bullies were replaced by bigger and badder ones and the vicious cycle continued. He had been picked on from his very first day of school, and things had only gotten worse.
"No thanks, fag." The red headed bastard mumbled darkly, chuckling under his breath. He swung again, big fist connecting with Ichigos gut. The orange head bowed and gasped as the kid sagged, but the defiant look never left his eyes. He was notorious for his quick temper, he had to be hot tempered and tough or he would never make it in this world, a place that was slow to tolerance, no matter what it preached.
Ichigo struggled to catch his breath, a soft growl issuing from his throat. He only had one more year of college to survive, and with that thought, he lashed out. He slammed his head back, connecting with the asshole that had been holding him. The guy dropped, clutching his face, blood seeping between his fingers. Ichigo dipped into a defensive crouch, as the baboon of a man in front of him cursed. Using his years of martial arts training, Ichigo kicked Renjis legs out from under him. The red head crashed to the hard pavement, the air audibly leaving his lungs in a whoosh. Ichigo took his opportunity and ran, if it were a one on one fight, he would have no problem beating the crap out of his attackers, but Renji and his goons never fought fair. His legs pumped, propelling him as fast as he could go through an ally and around a corner, straight into another wall. Both men nearly fell to the ground, Ichigo righted himself and took off again, yelling a hurried apology over his shoulder to the man built like a statue. He barely had time to recognize who he had run into when nearly two hundred pounds of angry red ran around the corner. Giving it no more thought, Ichigo sped around another corner, out into the main street and ducked into the first building he came across.
Renji was the gangs leader and openly against gay and bi sexual people, anyone different by his standards, really. He had been trouble as soon as he had run into Ichigo half way through his freshman year of college. Ichigo had never tried to hide that he was into guys, he was by no means flamboyant, that just wasn't his style, but he didn't feel like he should hide either. Most people were either fine with it or avoided him. But not Renji. Renji made it his personal job to put Ichigo through hell at every chance. And he had muscle to back him.
He stood in place a few moments, back pressed against the solid wall next to the glass door, eyes shut and chest heaving. He hoped they hadn't seen him slide into the building. He let his head fall back against the wall, hearing Renji and his small mob race by, shouting obscene things and cursing Ichigo with everything they had. He slowly opened his eyes to take in his surroundings.
A tall man with long, black hair pulled into the most manly ponytail Ichigo had ever seen sat hunched over another person, his one visible, violet colored eye staring at the orange head. The other was hidden by a black bandanna tied around his head and hair. The man actually managed to pull the look off somehow. He was incredibly thin and wiry, yet still well built and pretty intimidating. Intricate, swirling ink sleeved his right arm, starting at his wrist, and disappearing beneath his white wife-beater.
"Sup." The black haired man said, "You'll have to wait for the other artist, might be a few minutes till he gets back."
"Oh...s...sorry..." Ichigo mumbled, still regaining his lost breath, clutched at his bruising abdomen, he winced. "I'm, uh, just give me a minute and I'll leave..."
"Whatever." The lanky man said, shrugging and stepping on the foot petal, bringing the gun back to life.
The vibrating hum of the tattoo gun in the background, Ichigo stepped away from the wall and wandered around the small shop. It didn't look like much, but it was clean and the art work and pictures crowding the walls were beautiful and obviously done by skilled hands. The whole of the back wall had been painted to feature a huge, gorgeous black panther, crouched as if stalking toward the door sleek muscles seemed to ripple beneath its coat, its golden eyes so life like they made Ichigo shudder a little. The name and logo of the parlor rested a few feet above the cats head, just below the ceiling.
Ichigo marveled at the various styles in the place. Everything from creepy skulls to brilliant butterflies painted the canvases in bright and contrasting colors around the room. The orange head checked his watch. Damn, he was going to be late to work again because of his run in with that red monkey. He made his way back toward the door, pulling his cell out of the pocket of his tight black pants, hitting the speed dial for his employer, he held the phone to his ear.
"I'll be there soon Urahara, got stuck in traffic again" He lied and hung up the phone, brushing past a man in the door way as he quickly exited the tattoo parlor. He grumbled a quick "Sorry" and was gone.
The man that the orange haired kid had bumped into looked out the door after him, watching as the kid tentatively looked around before rushing away. Shrugging, he turned back to his fellow artist.
"What the hell was that about?" He asked, walking confidently toward the black haired young man, taking a seat against the wall, he watched his partner and long time friend work his magic into the clients skin. Nnoitra had been his closest friend for almost as long has either of them could remember. They had grown up in a shitty neighborhood, in an even shittier city, surrounded by gangs that would eat young children alive if given the chance. Grimmjows father had left his mother while she was pregnant, nothing but a mistake to the man, and Nnoitra had been the product of a hooker and an unknown father. After the blue haired child's mother had died, a story Grimmjow didn't like to talk about, he had been placed in an orphanage, the very same one Nnoitra had been sent to as soon as he was born. They had grown up like brothers and eventually both pursued an art career at a local college, deciding school really wasn't their thing, they had dropped out in favor of starting up their own tattoo parlor. Buying their first guns, they had done small inkings for cheap at the clients place of residence. Soon, they had been able to rent the small store front they were at now. Grind Ink had taken off and was a huge success, quickly gaining a reputation for quality work and young, hot artists. They made good money and loved every minute of it.
"Beats me. Ya find what you were lookin for?" Nnoitra answered, looking up from his work, stopping the hum of his gun. The man that may as well be his brother sat in his usual chair in all his glory. His long, lean legs clad in torn up, ink stained denim stretched in front of him. His devilish blue hair was gelled in its usual mess, a few stubborn strands falling over his brow. He had opted to leave his faded, blue and green leopard print button up shirt open, exposing a chiseled torso. Grimmjow was the only man Nnoitra had ever seen that could wear whatever the hell he wanted to and not look flaming gay. He shook his head at the thought, no one would have ever guessed. His friends smirk confirmed Nnoitras question. The smirk turned to an open grin, filled with sharp looking, white teeth as Grimmjow picked up a bag from the floor. Nnoitra rolled his eyes and went back to the almost finished tattoo he was working on.
Grimmjow fished through the bags contents, finding the sealed package, he pulled it from the plastic grocery bag. Grinning, he shook the package a little. Nnoitra rolled his eyes again and Grimmjow laughed, his voice deep. The man Nnoitra had been working on sat up and first looked down at his fresh tattoo, smirking in approval. These boys really had talent. The coyote that now graced his chest looked like it would jump out, all snarling teeth and bristled hackles, at any moment. Then he looked over to his blue haired tattoo artist and friend with questioning yet sleepy eyes. Grimmjow laughed again at the look and turned the package over, revealing the label, Jack Link's beef jerky. Not quite what the man had expected, but he was relieved just the same. They had all run into trouble together in their earlier years, no one needed a repeat of those days. He shrugged and stood up, looking into the full length mirror. "Thanks guys, looks great as always."
"Course it does!" Nnoitra cackled. He turned to Grimmjow, "You ganna give that to her already?" The client yawned and looked to the blue haired man, raising a questioning brow.
"My baby loves this shit!" Grimmjow proclaimed and shook the bag again, a little louder. A high pitched sound, somewhere between a chirp and a meow broke the silence and Grimmjows grin consumed his handsome face. "There she is" he rumbled as a cat the size of a medium dog came running around a corner and into the main lobby with grace only a feline could posses. The cat was a dark greyish, tan color with darker, almost black, exotic looking spots, its pointed black ears perked forward as Grimmjow spoke. Her blue eyes, almost an exact match in color to those of her owner, looking sharp and intelligent, were focused on the bag of beef jerky in the mans hand. The cat rubbed up against Grimmjows knees, butting its head against his thigh and purred, a rumbling sound that could have been a growl. He handed her a piece of the treat and patted her head. He smiled, stood and walked over to Nnoitra and Starrk. He inspected Nnoitras handiwork on Starrks tan chest. "Looks good Nnoi." He commented off handedly. "We're ganna close up shop and head to the bar, wanna join us, Starrk?"
The seemingly sleepy man seemed to contemplate, then shook his head slowly in the affirmative. "Why not, got nothin better to do." He glanced at the cat as it happily chewed its treat and stared back at him. "What ya ganna do with the cat?"
Grimmjow chuckled, "I'll drop her off at my apartment and meet you guys there." He grabbed a black leash off the front desk and walked to the cat, waving to his friends as they left. He attached it to the kitty's collar and walked out the door, locking it behind him. He lived only a short walk away and would sometimes bring Pantera to work with him. She enjoyed being out of the apartment and Grimmjow enjoyed the shocked stares he and his beast received, wasn't everyday the people around here got to see a sleek, nearly 30 pound cat walking on a leash.
It would only be a few minutes until he got home, where he would feed Pan then jump into his car and head across town to the club. His thoughts absently meandered to the orange haired guy that he had, quite literally, run into twice that day. He looked familiar, but Grimmjow couldn't place where he had seen the kid at. Poring food into Panteras bowl, he wandered at the reason the kid had been running and why he had decided to hide in his shop. Oh well. Shrugging, Grimmjow slid into the driver seat of his cobalt blue, tricked out '99 Nissan GT-R. He liked all types of art work, and this piece of machinery certainly qualified. He had found the car, scratched and wrecked, sitting in front of some old mans house with a for sale sign taped to the window. He had bought her for cheap and spent months fixing her up, inside and out. But now she looked and ran like new, with a beautiful metallic paint job, chrome rims, grill, door handles and chrome details. The windows were tinted nearly black and Grimmjows grin swallowed his face as he turned the key and listened to her purr to life. He cranked the stereo, Marilyn Mansons version of Tainted Love booming through the custom system as he pulled out of the drive way and screeched toward the club.
AN. So, what do you guys think? Please give me some feed back, Im pretty new to writing and especially to this type of writing. Any reviews and types are welcome