Summary: Ichigo's nothing more than street trash, selling his body for his next fix. But then a gorgeous blunette stranger gives him an offer, that Ichigo accepts. Now, for the security and love he's never had, he must be a fallen angel's immortal lover. GrimmIchi
Warnings: AU, yaoi, lemony goodness in later chapters, occult/slight religious themes, violence, implied prostitution, language, Ichigo being OOC and wearing make-up and feminine clothing, general corniness and fluff.
Beta'ed by the lovely Ldzetc.
Sinful - Part I
A New Life
"Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell."
Lighting up a cigarette with a blood red Colibri, Ichigo Kurosaki's face was illuminated by the small flame as he walked down that alleyway on that moonless, cold night. Even as drawn, thin, and downright sickly the boy seemed to be, he was still a sight for sore eyes as the hollows of his pretty face were filled by the warm glow of the flickering fire and the small amount of light caught on the metallic steel gray and aquamarine eyeshadow painted around his eyes and the translucent body glitter that made his pale pallor look more ethereal than washed-out.
His dreamsicle-colored hair tumbled down to his shoulders in soft waves, small braids interweaved in the messy perfection, the rebellious locks that refused to lay straight flipping out and up and making a sort of sunset halo for his face, and a closer look would reveal that he had somehow applied glitter to the silky strands as well. With powder foundation, bronzer, rose blush, glimmering cheekbone highlighter, royal blue eyeliner, several coats of black noir mascara, and a lovely pearly pink lipstick applied to his already beautiful face, from the neck up he looked every inch an haute couture model, getting ready to pose for the cover of Vogue when heroin chic was still the talk of the town.
However, despite him being just as wraith-like and long-legged and even more stunning than most of the fashion models out there, that was where the similarities ended. He wasn't admired and fawned over like they were. Not that this bothered him very much, as he wasn't one for attention.
"Fuck," Ichigo said as he stumbled over something in the dark, his heavy boots being the only thing that stopped his ankle from being twisted. Silently patting himself on the back for wearing the knee-high, black, leather, lace up combat boots, he continued walking, throwing the expensive lighter in his hand to land by the dumpster in the alley somewhere. It hadn't been his, anyway, and he didn't really smoke all that often, only when he was bored.
Taking a deep drag and letting the nicotine infused smoke fill his lungs, he stopped to adjust his sheer, sable, lined tights that lay underneath hip-hugging purple denim shorts, the combination of the two making the tights ride up in rather uncomfortable places. Letting the cigarette hang from his glistening pink lips, he pulled down the material by his thighs and nearly sighed in relief as the tights returned to their proper position. Then he continued to walk down the alleyway, unzipping his black motorcycle jacket to reveal the form-fitting, long-sleeved ebony turtleneck and the mass of feathered and beaded Native inspired necklaces he wore around his slender neck.
As Ichigo neared the end of the alley, he could both hear and feel the thunderous bass line of an old dark wave song, one of his favorites and his lithe hips started to sway to the hypnotic beat of the music. Soon enough he came to round the corner of the alley and it was like night and day, the alleyway being pitch black and silent and here, the line of people waiting to get into the city's trendiest nightclub were all talking, laughing, dancing under the bright midnight blue neon lights that proclaimed the renovated historic building to be called Sexta. Such a delicious name, Ichigo thought as he walked straight up to the bouncer, who took one look at him and stepped aside to let him through.
Sighing as he heard the loud protests from the long line of club-goers as he was let inside, the orangette just continued on into the dim lighting of the club. If only they knew just what he had to do to get that small moment of special treatment...
Oh well, at least he didn't have to walk the streets like some of the less fortunate out here in this part of the city that was completely run by the underground. Perhaps it was a bit pathetic to be grateful for the fact that he could stay inside where it was warm and not have to degrade himself any further by securing his own clients on the side of the road.
Sometimes, he felt it may only just be a matter of time... After all, one day the looks that had gotten him where he was would fade and then he would fall even further down the rabbit hole. Hell, his looks already were going due to the abuse he put his body through.
"Ichigo!" an excited, female voice cut through the din of the nightclub, which was actually pretty tame and more sophisticated than one might suspect looking at the outside of the building. They didn't even have a proper dance floor, but instead an assortment of gray and navy velvet couches that looked like they belonged in a Victorian mansion. Needless to say, when Ichigo had been placed here just last week, he had been pleasantly surprised, especially when he saw the kind of money he could make in a place like this, one made for high-powered criminals, drug lords, and general ringleaders of the black market.
"Have you seen him? Oh my God, he is to die for!" A pair of arms around his neck alerted Ichigo to the presence of a tall, dark-skinned purple-haired woman dressed in just about the shortest strapless white dress he'd ever seen. He stood there kind of stiffly as the woman embraced him, for despite his profession, Ichigo still wasn't all that comfortable being touched.
"Seen who, Yoruichi?" the orangette said as they parted, the woman giving him an 'are you serious?' look, her golden eyes disbelieving as her head cocked to the side.
"Where have you been? The owner of this place, of course. Honestly, Ichigo, you should have seen him, he's hotter than July and the top of the food chain around here," she said, her gaze misting over as she talked about this him that apparently Ichigo was supposed to know about. "By the way, you look beautiful as always, hon', but you know Ginjou is not going to be happy about that turtleneck."
The orange-haired male sighed, nodding. He knew that his boss wasn't going to like the fact that he came in something as modest as a turtleneck, but it was freezing outside and he hadn't been about to walk to Sexta with a tank top on. He wondered if the man would actually send him away for the night as he was apt to do whenever he got upset at one of his workers for doing something he didn't agree with or not following his orders. Then Ginjou usually showed up at their doorstep demanding the money they had lost him by not working that night. Ichigo knew that from experience.
Speak of the devil...
Ichigo looked up to his brunette boss, whom shooed Yoruichi away with an absentminded gesture. A little offended, but knowing better than to say anything, the woman offered the orangette a look of pittance before slinking off into the crowd.
"The owner of the place wants to meet with you," Ginjou said, taking a hold of the younger man's upper arm and leading him in further into the club. Ichigo nodded and, in spite of the fact that he had been doing this for a few months now, he felt his stomach drop, nerves making his hands shake and sweat break out on his brow. The only small comfort he had was that Yoruichi had praised the man's good looks, and though maybe it was superficial, Ichigo was glad it wasn't another middle-aged, less than attractive drug lord that liked to play rough. He'd had enough of those for a lifetime.
When they reached the very back of the club, at which a door was guarded by two burly men, Ginjou gripped Ichigo's other arm and glared down at him.
"Look, apparently this guy saw you in here and liked what he saw, because he's offering to buy your contract from me."
Ichigo's chocolate brown eyes widened exponentially and he was frozen in his shock. Why would some rich club owner want to buy his contract?
"This is a lot of money we're talking here, probably more than you'll ever see your whole life, Kurosaki, so when we go in there I want you to keep your mouth shut and look pretty. If you screw this up for me, I'll make sure you regret it. Are we clear?" Ginjou's tone was steely with a hint of condescension, as if he was reprimanding a child, but Ichigo gave the slightest of nods anyway. He wouldn't admit to being afraid of the man, but he had heard stories of what he had done to some of his workers that cost him money.
Suppressing a shudder, the orangette allowed himself to be led past the two guards and through the door where the owner of Sexta would be waiting.
He actually had to blink in order to let his eyes adjust to the lighting in the office they had just walked into. Though it was by no means bright, it was a far cry from the near darkness of the club floor, and Ichigo felt Ginjou let go of him only to push him forward. Unprepared for the shove, the orange-haired male almost stumbled and fell, but managed to catch himself on the back of a Victorian Era style armchair.
Cursing the fact that he was born with the ability to blush whenever something even mildly embarrassing happened, Ichigo felt his cheekbones burn a dark rose color as he brought his gaze up from his feet to where a man was sitting at a large desk, feet propped up on the surface, as two more stoic-faced men stood behind him.
Yoruichi was right, he was to die for, was the only coherent thought that ran through Ichigo's mind as his eyes locked with the man at the desk's. They were positively hypnotizing, like crystals made out of dark ocean water, every bit as deep and dangerous-looking. And the thing was, the man had blue hair to match his eyes. Not the same shade, no his imperfectly perfect locks were robin's egg blue, like the color of the sky in the afternoon or the gemstone aquamarine and instead of contrasting with each other, the two features balanced each other nicely against the background of bronzed skin and the expensive dark gray suit the man was wearing.
He was absolute perfection and Ichigo wondered what the hell he was doing there because there was no way this man wanted to buy his contract. Surely there had been some mistake and he had meant to bargain for one of Ginjou's busty, entirely female beauties, not him. Yes, that must be it, so he should probably just turn around right there and-
"Here's the boy, just like you asked," Ginjou said. "He's nice and quiet, and won't hesitate to do anything you tell him to."
Ichigo frowned, bothered by his boss so obviously trying to sell him as if he were just an object instead of a living, breathing, person, but he knew better than to say anything. Besides, this man didn't want him, it was obvious from the way he was staring at him. When the orangette was presented to potential clients, they all looked at him with barely contained lust in their gaze, hands twitching to touch him. But this blue-haired man's brow was furrowed as he seemed to think deeply at something, not ever moving his intense stare away from Ichigo's face, whose blush was now permanent for the moment due to the attention.
"Ichigo Kurosaki...is that correct?"
The orangette's knees nearly buckled as the man spoke. His voice was like if sex itself just started talking, husky and deep and sensuous, like rough velvet or silken steel, a perfect contradiction.
Eyes wide, Ichigo snuck a glance over to where Ginjou was standing- obviously not happy from the way the man had ignored him- and Ichigo remembered what his boss had said about talking and messing things up, but he so very much wanted to talk to this man, to speak freely to just about anyone. He felt like his brain might short circuit at any moment, his naturally fiery personality at war with the voice inside of his head that sounded suspiciously like Ginjou and yelled at him not to say a thing or he would pay for it later.
"Yeah, that's his name. Like I said, he doesn't talk much. But that's what they're for, isn't it? To stand there and look pretty?" Ginjou chuckled as he tried to make conversation in a fake jovial tone, sounding for all the world like a used car salesman.
"I asked him," the blue-haired man said, pointing to where Ichigo stood, still quiet as a mouse. The owner was clearly not amused by Ginjou's attempts at banter if the displeased expression on his face was anything to go by. "Your name is Ichigo Kurosaki, right?"
"Yes," the orangette said, his tone betraying his anxiety that he was doing something wrong. Perhaps that wasn't the answer the man had wanted to hear or maybe he should have just stayed silent because he was being tested on whether or not he really was quiet.
"Speak up, I can't hear you."
Ichigo's nerves got the best of him. He hadn't even been in the room with the man for five minutes, didn't even know his name, and yet he would have given just about anything to persuade the man to buy his contract. He wasn't exactly sure how he knew, but Ichigo was sure that this blue-haired and eyed man was his ticket to get out from under Ginjou's thumb.
"I said yes."
Relief washed over him as he saw the man's lips quirk upwards into the smallest of smirks, amusement sparkling in his sapphire eyes. But he was still on edge as he heard Ginjou audibly grind his teeth, no doubt in annoyance that he had spoken at all.
"So, Ichigo." The blue-haired man's smirk widened as he shifted and recrossed his long legs on the desk calling attention to his expensive leather shoes. Italian, for sure. "I'm sure your...proprietor has informed you that I'm interested in buying your contract. However-"
Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by Ginjou's pissed imitation of a snarl when he rounded on Ichigo, seizing the orangette by the arm.
"I told you not to say anything, you stupid little-"
"Ginjou," the blue-haired man said. "Allow me to finish talking before you make yourself look like the worthless cunt you really are."
Ginjou's expression was priceless and Ichigo felt a surge of awe and respect for the man still looking like he hadn't had a care in the world when he had just insulted the most powerful person that the boy knew of in the underground. Ginjou didn't just have the best boys and girls in the region, but he also controlled several wide-spread drug rings and trafficked black market weapons up and down the entire coast.
And yet, he didn't say anything to the man that had just called him the name most would consider just about the worst in the book. Ginjou just stood there and took it. Ichigo did notice a monstrous vein ticking in his temple though and had to stifle the giggle that formed at the sight.
"Like I was saying." The blue-haired man paused, tapping a finger to his lips. Then he gestured to the two hulking beasts behind him. "Actually, I want to speak with Ichigo alone, so I'll just have Edrad and Nakeem see you out."
It seemed that with that, Ginjou had reached his limit for dealing with the blue-haired man that didn't fawn over him like everyone else in the underground world did. Tightening his hold on Ichigo's arm to a bruising grip, he snarled a little bit. It was an unimpressive sound that made the orangette wonder how he had ever gotten so much power in the first place.
"I don't let my employees speak with anyone when the money's not in my pocket," Ginjou said. Ichigo almost snorted at the use of the word employees, as if they worked at some common place like Starbucks, and not in the part of the city filled with its worst.
"You'll get your money. In fact, you can have it right now," the blue-haired man said, gesturing once more to one of the two men standing behind him, whom then bent down and retrieved a stainless steel suitcase that was immediately placed on the desk and propped open to reveal hundreds of bills stacked on top of one another.
Ichigo's jaw dropped slightly as he took in what really was more money than he had ever seen in his life, probably more money than any average person had seen. That couldn't really all be for him. Just how much was the contract of a teenage prostitute worth?
The hold that Ginjou had on his arm was gone in an instant as the man crossed the room to flip through a wad of bills faster than Ichigo had ever seen his boss move before, his eyes sparkling with greed and a kind of sick joy. It made the orange-haired boy wrinkle his freckled nose in distaste, rubbing his arm in the place where Ginjou had been holding onto him; it was sure to bruise.
"It's all there?"
"Yeah, it's all there," the man sitting at the desk said, a frown marring his perfect face. Then he extended one leg to kick the suitcase full of money off of the desk so that it landed on the floor by Ginjou's feet. "Take it and get the fuck out."
Ichigo watched with wide eyes as his now former boss, the man he had lived in fear of for the past few months and generally acknowledged as the most influential man in the region's underground world, swallowed his colossally sized pride and bent down to pick the suitcase off of the floor. After snapping it closed and tucking it under his arm, he nodded stiffly to the blue-haired man.
"Thank you for your patronage," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, which was clearly unappreciated by the other man, who drummed his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk.
"Didn't I tell you to get the fuck out?" The blue-haired man didn't even have to beckon forward the two gorillas behind him before they walked right up to Ginjou, towering over his taller than average frame. Ichigo backed up a few steps, not wanting to be so close to the imposing figures that looked more like storybook giants than actual humans.
"Yeah, well, I hope we can do business again," Ginjou said, retreating from his place by the ebony wood desk to the door that led back to the club floor, obviously trying to look like he wasn't intimidated as he turned his gaze on Ichigo. "Good riddance," was all he said before marching through the door into the darkness and pulsing music that lay beyond.
Ichigo let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. It was shaky and long and shuddering, the sound of relief. He couldn't believe that this man he didn't know from Adam had just paid...however much that had been to buy his contract from Ginjou. While he wasn't sure of the amount his past clients had given his former boss as he never actually handled any money, just taking the pittance Ginjou gave him at the end of the week, he was sure that it hadn't even been a minuscule fraction of what had been in the suitcase.
"You won't have to see him again," that rough velvet voice said, its owner shifting in his chair so that his feet were now resting on the floor. Ichigo looked from where he had been staring unseeingly at the door to the man that had just bought his contract, tangerine eyebrows meeting each other in a confused frown.
"Why did you do that?"
The orange-haired male gestured to the door, endearingly looking a little lost. "Why did you just give Ginjou all of that money...?"
The blunette man's indifferent expression lightened into an amused one, bright sapphire eyes gleaming like the actual precious stone. It made Ichigo's heart skip a beat, because the man looked so much better when he wasn't scowling or looking as if the entire world bored him immeasurably. Almost divine, actually.
"Weren't you listening? I did it for you."
"Don't you mean for my contract?" Ichigo said. There was an undercurrent of bitterness to his tone, but it didn't faze the other male one bit.
"No, I mean for you. That's what I was trying to say before. I wanted to tell you that I don't own people like they're property." The blue-haired man grinned then, a predatory, egotistical grin that would have come off as creepy on anyone else, but on him was one of those frighteningly beautiful things that made Ichigo's breath hitch. "I don't need insurance to make pretty things like you stay with me, so I just did it to do this," he paused, reaching across his massive, ornate desk to hold up a piece of paper with a signature at the bottom that was very familiar to the orangette. He had signed that dotted line at the beginning of the summer, when he had been desperate and willing to do just about anything to get the money he needed to get his next fix.
He watched with wide eyes as the blue-haired man drew a lighter from his suit jacket pocket, using his thumb to produce the small flame that caught onto the dry piece of paper and then consumed the white and black thing rapidly, the words that had signed his life away disappearing into ash. The relief that he had been feeling earlier tripled and he felt so faint had to hold onto the back of that armchair that had saved him from falling earlier.
"For you," the blue-haired man repeated.
Would a complete stranger really be so kindhearted as to pay a small fortune just to set him free from Ginjou's clutches? Ichigo hadn't had much faith in humanity since he was a child, so though he felt an overwhelming gratitude towards the gorgeous man in front of him, he was reluctant to believe that this would be the end of things. There had to be a catch somewhere.
"Now that you're a free man, Ichigo, I'd like to offer you a proposition," the man said and Ichigo's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "Hey, don't look at me like that, now. I just wanted you to join me for dinner at my apartment tonight." He reclined in his high-backed armchair, his body language saying that it wasn't exactly a request. Not that Ichigo really wanted to say no, anyway.
"But...it's after midnight," he said intelligently, cursing himself mentally for not saying something that sounded more smooth. However, it seemed the other male was amused by his answer as he gave a low chuckle.
"Yes, but being the owner of a night club as well as...other things, I'm nocturnal, so I eat dinner in a few hours. But-" The blue-haired man leaned forward in his chair then, his cyan gaze gleaming with bemusement and a bit of lasciviousness. "I always eat alone, and it would be a real treat if you'd join me so that I could talk to you about my proposition, Ichigo."
The way he said Ichigo's name had the latter's knees buckling under him and his mouth was suddenly bone dry. Licking his lips and unable to find his voice, he just settled for nodding his acceptance of the invitation.
"Perfect," the blue-haired man said, almost sounding like he was purring. "My driver will take you to my apartment. You can wait there while I finish up some things."
"Okay...you're not going to...are you?" Ichigo's unspoken fear was justified, living the lifestyle he had been for the past few months and hearing the horror stories from the others about what happened to some of those that went to meet a client somewhere and never coming back. And maybe it was a little silly of him to ask that, like someone planning on doing something terrible would answer honestly, but he felt like, though he didn't even know the man's name, that he could trust him. When you live in a world full of danger, you learn to listen to your instincts, and Ichigo's instincts were telling him that this man was safe.
"If you thought I would, you wouldn't have asked that."
Ichigo dropped his gaze to the ground, flushing slightly. It was like the other could see right through him, past all of the walls he had built in order to protect himself from all of the predators in his world. But the thing was, he didn't mind letting this specific one in; it had been getting rather lonely inside of his inner ivory tower.
"I'll have the car brought to the front," the blue-haired man said, twirling the lighter still in his hand between his index finger and thumb. "Do me a favor and wait for me in the sitting room, and don't go into the master bedroom."
"Why not?" The petulant question was out of Ichigo's mouth before he could stop himself.
"That, sweetheart, is a secret." The man's arrogant grin widened, showing off bright white teeth and sharper than average canines. It reminded Ichigo of that old adage that girls always go for the bad boys, because it certainly wasn't a kind or loving smile and yet it sent a warm, tingling feeling through him.
But in this case, he wasn't really bad, was he? Though Ichigo still had no idea why, the man had bought his contract and burned it, meaning that the orangette was now no longer a slave to Ginjou. He no longer had to do whatever the man said in order to secure his safety and the constant supply of off-white powder in little transparent bags. So whatever the secret in his master bedroom was, it couldn't be that terrible.
"Oh," was all Ichigo said, as if the other's answer had explained everything. And when the man beckoned him forward with a crooked finger, he didn't hesitate to cross the few steps needed to bring him flush with the desk. It seemed that the nearer he got to the blue-haired male, the more beautiful he became...it was unreal. Ichigo had been in close contact with a number of people, no matter how reluctantly, and knew that from far away people could look attractive until you got a look at them up close and started to see all of the flaws they so desperately tried to hide. But this man in front of him impossibly had not one imperfection.
In a motion almost too fast for him to see, the man captured Ichigo's hand and brought it to his soft, cool lips, brushing them against the sensitive skin whilst never breaking eye contact. It was like a scene from a romance novel, except galaxies better because, in spite of the place they were in and just who they were, it seemed so pure. There was no subtext to the gesture, only the tenderness that most would think unattainable for two perfect strangers to share.
"I'll see you later then, Ichigo," the blue-haired man said, smiling against the flesh of Ichigo's hand before letting it go, the appendage immediately feeling warm and empty without those cool, strong fingers holding it.
"Y-yeah, see you," Ichigo said, dazed, walking away. He was almost to the door when he turned back with an urgency burning in his mocha-colored eyes. "Wait!"
The man's sky blue eyebrow arched in response. "Yes?"
"Um...what's your name? I just feel like I should know because-"
"It's Grimmjow. Now go get in that car before I carry you there."
The ride to Grimmjow's apartment was silent. The driver was a stoic man with a long braid whose name Ichigo forgot as soon as it was said, his mind clouded with thoughts and questions of the person that had just turned his entire world upside down in the matter of twenty minutes. In a good way, though. A very good way. The ride was also long, since the place they were headed was not in the urban nightlife epicenter where Sexta was located, nor was it in the city's poverty-ridden neighborhoods where Ichigo had spent most of his life. No, it was in the part of the city that he'd never been before, which housed the wealthiest citizens in historic townhouses and costly skyscraper apartment buildings.
It was already apparent that the blunette he now knew as Grimmjow was rich as hell, given how willingly he had paid a small fortune for Ichigo's contract, but it still stunned the orangette when he saw that he would be riding to Grimmjow's apartment in a vintage Rolls Royce. He'd thought only Fortune 500 executives and royalty would own such a beautiful piece of machinery.
And then there was the apartment itself.
Ichigo had been impressed when he'd gotten into the elevator with Grimmjow's driver and he'd pressed the 'PH' button, but when the doors had opened Ichigo's jaw must have hit the floor. Even though he had been bereft of the finer things all of his life, he was sure that anyone in the world would have been in awe of the penthouse apartment.
He'd walked into the foyer, eyes wide as the driver bid him goodnight before the elevator doors closed. He didn't even register the words as he drank in the dark gray marble floor and double staircase framing the entrance to the rest of the first floor and heading for that, he passed by the table in the center of the massive foyer floor. He smiled a bit as he realized Grimmjow must have a fondness for black wooden furniture and that the vase held roses that were not red or pink or white, but a soft powder blue. He must have an affinity for that color as well.
The room Ichigo assumed was the sitting room where Grimmjow had told him to wait was right through the entryway. It was impossibly large, with high ceilings and the entire wall opposite of him was made completely out of glass, the entire city visible and looking deceitfully pretty with all of its bright lights twinkling in the moonless night.
It would also seem that the room was decorated in a way similar to Sexta, gray and midnight blue being the primary colors, with a hint of ivory and black in the throw pillows that lay on the same kind of Victorian Era low-backed couches and chaise lounge that were in the club, but Ichigo had a sneaking suspicion that those were reproductions and the ones in front of him weren't.
The orangette took great care in sitting down as softly as possible on the couch closest to him, placing his hands in his lap. For several minutes he just stared into space, wondering how long Grimmjow would be and just what kind of proposition he wanted to offer him and why the man seemed so interested in him when they had never met before that night. However, being a restless person by nature, Ichigo slid out of his motorcycle jacket, laying it on the couch before standing up and pacing the room.
It was odd, really. There were no pictures of family and friends, no little knickknacks that everyone accumulated over the years. Except for the lighting, it didn't even look like there was a hint of technology in the room either, not a stereo or television or phone in sight. It almost felt like a museum- devoid of personality.
Ichigo thought it must be lonely to live in a place like this. And then he pondered whether or not Grimmjow had a family, or friends, or any one at all.
It must have been kismet, because he almost jumped a foot in the air when a female voice seemed to come from out of nowhere.
"You must be Itsygo!" it said and the orangette's eyes darted around wildly, looking for the source, and found it when he spotted a figure in a doorway he hadn't noticed before then.
"Yeah, that's me," he said, laying a hand over his chest and willing his heart to stop beating so fast.
The speaker was a tall, buxom woman who looked to only be a bit older than him and dressed in a simple, halter-top black dress that outlined her generous curves. She had long, beautiful sea-foam colored hair with bangs that lay over her pretty, smiling face. Ichigo noticed that she had a pink birthmark over the bridge of her nose and gray eyes that sparkled with excitement as she rushed over to him, embracing him so tightly he couldn't breathe until she released him what felt like an eternity later.
"I'm so happy to finally meet you! Grimmy told me you were coming, but I didn't believe him. Oh and I didn't believe him when he told me how adorable you are, either, but he was right! Just don't tell him I said that, okay? Oh yeah, I completely forgot, my name's Nelliel, but you can call me Nel or Nelly, that's what Grimmy calls me."
"Um...it's nice to meet you," Ichigo said, a little overwhelmed, and Nelliel smiled even brighter. In response to the woman's attractiveness, the orangette felt a creeping insecurity. "Are you Grimmjow's...girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend? Oh my God, no..." Nelliel shuddered, sticking her tongue out. "Just no. Grimmy and I are like brother and sister, he took me in after I fell," she said.
"Oh, that's nice of him," Ichigo said, contemplating just how hard the green-haired woman must have hit her head in her fall.
"Isn't it? But, anyway, I guess Grimmy hasn't told you about the offer yet?" Ichigo shook his head, and Nelliel tapped a finger to her chin in thought.
"He must want to talk about it over dinner, then. Did he invite you to have dinner with him?" she said, her bubbly personality receding a bit as she seemed to be thinking hard about something.
"Uh, yeah. He said to wait for him in this room until he got here." Ichigo gestured half-heartedly to the room they were standing in, and this seemed to excite Nelliel for some unknown reason as her eyes widened and she clasped her hands underneath her chin.
"And did he say that he had some things to take care of?"
"He said he had to finish up some things before he left...?" Ichigo said, unsure of what that could possibly mean to Nelliel; she looked like she was about to burst.
And then she did, a high-pitched, happy squeal nearly shattering the orangette's eardrums before he was locked into that steel embrace again, struggling to breathe as both the woman's arms constricted around his chest and her bust nearly smothered him to death. Considering he was not very attracted to the female body, this was not an ideal way to go. After several moments of trying to push Nelliel off of him and tell her that he couldn't breathe, she let go in order to start bouncing in enthusiasm.
"Oh, this is so exciting! And it's about time too, I've been waiting centuries for this to happen. It's like Grimmy has finally grown up after all this time," she said, pressing a hand to her heart and Ichigo was startled to see her blinking back tears of joy. He was about to ask what this offer was that had her so excited, when she suddenly froze, eyes traveling the length of Ichigo's body, and then pointing a delicate finger to his torso.
"You're not going to wear that, are you?"
"I...uh, yes?" Ichigo said, wondering why she had expected him to wear something else when he clearly had nothing else with him. Nelliel sighed, shaking her head while still looking at the orangette's choice of outfit, which suddenly he was very self-conscious of. But it's not like you can dress modestly when you're in his line of work.
"No, those clothes won't do at all. I know Grimmy probably likes those shorts on you, but I have something much better," the woman said, reaching forward to grab his wrist. She dragged him out of the room and to a set of stairs separate from the main ones in the foyer. Ichigo didn't protest as he was led up to the second floor, which looked like it was even larger than the first, if that was possible.
A hallway floored with the same dark gray marble seemed to stretch on forever, a row of doors on either side until the very end, where there was an arched set of doors with antique doorknockers in the shape of the heads of panthers. Ichigo deduced that must be the master bedroom, but didn't get the chance to ask Nelliel about it before she pushed him into one of the rooms.
It matched the rest of the house, impersonal with beautiful antique furniture, the blue and gray color scheme, and held a double-sized bed and dresser aside from a closet that Nelliel flung open.
"Now, let's see. I think I have just the thing," she said, searching through the rack filled with clothes that all looked designer and really expensive even to Ichigo's untrained eye. "I got it when Grimmy and I went to Kyoto, but the sizing was off, but I just couldn't throw it away because it was so pretty, you know? Good thing I didn't, but, anyway, here, it should probably fit you." Nelliel tugged an item of clothing free from the closet and brought it over to where Ichigo was standing by the dresser.
"When you're done, Grimmy will probably be back, so just go down to the dining room. Just to the left of the stairs, you can't miss it," she said, shoving the fabric into the orangette's arms. "Oh, and you should take off those boots and go barefoot, they won't go at all."
"Okay," Ichigo said, figuring it better than to try and say that he would rather just wear his own clothes. Nelliel seemed like a person that would be impossible to argue with. "Thank you," he said as an afterthought and was rewarded with another bone-crushing hug.
"You're welcome. I'm so glad you're here." Nelliel let him go after a moment, eyes soft, before she gave a small a wave and headed for the door, pausing right before she stepped out. "I hope you say yes, but if not, don't let him down too badly, yes? It would break his heart. "
Confused, but deciding not to ask what she meant by that, Ichigo just nodded once. Then the green-haired woman said "Goodnight, Ichigo Kurosaki" disappearing into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind her. And Ichigo thought that she seemed to say 'Goodnight' with more gravity than he had ever heard before.
Twenty minutes later, he had stripped out of his own clothes and dressed in what turned out to be a kimono-inspired heavy silk kind of robe that was a deep gray-blue and had black lining. It reached to about three inches above his now bare knees and had long, off the shoulder sleeves that went past his hands, and though it was fashioned like a robe someone would wear in the house, the fabric and modern style made it appear a little more formal.
It was a bit effeminate for Ichigo's tastes, it being almost a dress and he usually only saved wearing pretty things like this when he was working, but he could see why Nelliel had picked out for him. It gave him a kind of easy, inviting, almost homey appeal, instead of the vixenish look he had with his usual dark, tight clothing. He was almost tempted to wipe off his make-up, but didn't for fear of only smearing it and making him look like a hot mess.
The marble floor was cold to his bare feet, so he hurried back down the stairs and taking a left like Nelliel had said. He was relieved when he walked right into what must have been the dining room, if the long wooden table with two high-backed chairs on either side was anything to go by. It was then Ichigo came to the conclusion that Grimmjow must have servants living in his house, because the table was set, dinnerware in front of the two chairs on the ends and the candelabra in the center of the runner tablecloth was lit. The scene reminded Ichigo of Beauty and the Beast when the Beast forced Belle to eat dinner with him, the table looking just like this. The comparison made him laugh softly.
"What's so funny?"
For the second time that night, Ichigo's heart stopped as he jumped in surprise, turning narrowed eyes on the person that had startled him. Expectedly, it was Grimmjow, standing only about ten feet away from him, with an entertained expression on his handsome face.
"Don't walk up on me like that," Ichigo said, crossing his arms, suddenly very aware of what he was wearing now that Grimmjow's deep blue gaze was freely taking in the outfit change.
"It's my house, I'll do what I want," the blunette said, then nodding his head in Ichigo's direction. "Where did you get...that?"
"Nelliel said I had to wear it." Ichigo felt a little bit bad about blaming the change of clothing on the woman, but he didn't want Grimmjow to think that he just helped himself to other people's closets whenever he felt like it. Plus there was always the chance that the man didn't like the kimono-inspired robe.
"Oh, yeah? And what else did dearest Nelly say?" Grimmjow walked forward a few steps, and it was then that Ichigo realized just how tall and well-built the other was, but not too much so; he was perfect. He swallowed thickly and licked his lips before answering.
"Something about not breaking your heart, whatever that means."
"Hmm." Grimmjow smiled, closed-lip and a little bitter. "Too late, you've already made your mark there. I don't mind though, you were meant to. "
Ichigo's eyebrows must have touched his hairline the moment after the blunette said those two words. It wasn't as if no one had ever said such a thing to him. In fact, he'd heard too many flattering and affectionate things in the past couple of months. He'd even had a few confessions of love, one confessor being so insistent that Ichigo had been forced to call in a favor from one of Ginjou's muscle men. So why should he be so surprised that Grimmjow would say something like that?
Perhaps it was because it hadn't been said in a moment of lust or physical ecstasy, or with an obsessive, unhealthy undercurrent. It had been simple and honest, and that unnerved him. Grimmjow didn't even know him, and it was just too impossible to believe that anyone could have such feelings for another when they had just met not even two hours beforehand.
"You shouldn't say things like that, Grimmjow," he said after a few seconds, tearing his gaze away from the man before him to look at the marble floor.
"Because we've only just met each other."
"So, you can't say things like that to a stranger. It's not honest," Ichigo said, his frustration showing when he scowled and uncrossed his arms to clench his fists by his side.
"Why isn't it honest?" Grimmjow was persistent, Ichigo would give him that.
"Because...because you can't really have feelings for someone you just met, that's why."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No! I mean yes, but..." The orangette huffed as he brought his gaze up to stare straight into Grimmjow's eyes, that to his surprise didn't look very angry, more...upset. "I've heard it all before from people that I barely know and I guess I just learned over time that whenever someone tells me something like that to tell myself that it wasn't true. That they didn't care about anything other than getting what they paid for."
There was silence for a few seconds and neither one of them moved, even blinked, as they stared each other down.
"Is that why I'm here, so that you can get what you paid for? I don't care, you can tell me, but don't try to convince me that you care or that you have feelings for me, because you don't know anything about me." Ichigo was breathing heavy when he was finished speaking and for the first time in a while his face was flushed pink with emotion, and not embarrassment. Grimmjow, however, was as still and stoic as a statue, the only sign that he had been affected at all being his eyes swirling with ire.
"Well, sweetheart, you don't anything about me either, so maybe you shouldn't assume that I would say things like that to just any pretty face," Grimmjow said, and Ichigo realized that they were now only but a hand's breadth apart, close enough to kiss even. "I'm aware I don't know much about you, but that's why I invited you here. I want to get to know you, Ichigo."
"But...why? You offered to buy my contract from Ginjou when we had never even met, and then you burned it once you did, and you said it 'for me', but it doesn't make any sense that someone like you would do something like that for someone like me," Ichigo said, not expecting what would come next at all.
"I suppose I can only show you, because you wouldn't believe me if I told you why," Grimmjow said, his now familiar egotistical grin returning. "You may want to back up a few steps. Get the full effect, yeah?"
Puzzled, but desperately interested in what the blunette would show him that would make him believe that Grimmjow already had some kind of deep feelings for him, Ichigo did as said and backed a good twenty feet away.
He almost told the man to stop when he saw Grimmjow start to take off his shirt, but then thinking better of it, because who in their right mind would stop someone so drool worthy from stripping in front of them? However, Grimmjow only divested himself of his suit jacket and button-up shirt, revealing a chest and torso that would make Adonis himself green with envy.
Ichigo watched in confusion and then fear as the blue-haired man closed his eyes and stood there until his upper body started shuddering, his shoulders shaking violently.
"Grimmjow, are you-" the orangette started to say but forgot how to use his voice when out of nowhere there was a ripping sound and then wings burst from the man's shoulder blade. Wings. Massive, pitch black feathered, arched, beautiful wings.
If Grimmjow hadn't moved so fast his figure blurred with speed and caught him, Ichigo would have fallen to the ground in shock, as his knees gave out on him. He was too stunned to even be properly embarrassed of falling into Grimmjow's arms like some kind of damsel in distress, chocolate brown eyes large with amazement as they took in the unbelievable size of the man's wings as he unfurled them, obviously showing off if the smirk on his face was any indication. They had to have a twelve foot wingspan. That was more than two of him put together, Ichigo thought, but all he could say was:
"Why...do you have wings? Are you like some kind of angel or something?" Grimmjow gave a barking laugh to that, throwing his head back before setting Ichigo on his feet, though not taking his hands away from where they were grasping the orangette's upper arms.
"I have to say, I didn't think you would get it right on the first guess. Well, somewhat right, anyway," he said, his wings curling back in so that they were bent in half behind him, though they were far from hidden as the top of their curves was about a foot and a half above Grimmjow's head.
Ichigo was somewhat insulted and baffled. Who wouldn't first guess an angel? It was the only possible explanation for the wings and why Grimmjow was so perfect looking.
And that's when it hit him.
"Holy shit, oh my God, you're...an angel? Like from heaven and all that?" Ichigo felt like he would fall to the ground yet again, and the blunette must have sensed that because he guided him to the chair closest to them and forcibly sat him down at the table. The orangette then groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Oh fuck, I'm so going to hell."
Grimmjow 'tch'-ed, pulling Ichigo's hands away from his face, the latter noticing that not only had the man sprouted wings, but his incisors had lengthened considerably. What, was he some kind of vampire now too? Ichigo hoped not, he didn't think he could take another shock like the whole angel thing.
"Shut up with that bullshit, you're not going anywhere. Now eat, you look half-starved," Grimmjow said, walking to where his own seat lay at the end of the table, only stopping to wave his hand over the candelabra, extinguishing the flames before throwing it to the floor. "Can't see a damn thing with that in the middle of the table."
Before he sat down, the blunette gasped in discomfort as his wings burst into a cloud of sparkling air, like a magician's trick, and disappeared. Ichigo saw the skin on Grimmjow's upper back move and stretch like the wings were now settling back in their resting place, and he also spotted a gothic style number six tattoo on the man's lower back, to the right side and tilted. When the orangette saw that Grimmjow was watching him stare he blushed and looked to the table where his covered dish sat.
Almost immediately he frowned, lifting the metal cover off of the plate to reveal an expensive cut of steak, nearly raw it was so undercooked, and beside it some relatively normal looking mashed potatoes. Ichigo had never been good with food, a picky eater for all of his life until he found something he liked in his system a lot better. He'd nearly abandoned eating all together, only forcing down a fraction of an average meal when his stomach screamed at him to do so. Just looking at the steak made him slightly sick, so he picked at the potatoes with a fork, trying to work up the willpower to eat them.
"I don't think you can win a staring contest with your dinner, Ichigo," Grimmjow said, his voice cuing Ichigo's gaze to snap up to where the man was sitting, chewing on a bite of steak that he'd already devoured half of. "If you want something else, I'll get it for you."
"No!" Ichigo bit his lip, looking to the side. "No, I don't want anything. I can't eat when you still haven't told me why I'm here, you've only told me, or showed me, rather, that you're an...angel."
"Well, I was hoping to save that for after dessert and coffee..." The look Ichigo sent him made Grimmjow grin in amusement, but he apparently decided it was time to stop stringing the other male along, because he put his fork and knife down, his expression turning serious. "Well the first thing is that I'm not exactly an angel. I was one, before I Fell."
"So...you're a fallen angel?" Ichigo said, now understanding what Nelliel had told him earlier about how the bluenette had taken her in after she "Fell."
"Yeah, bound to walk the earth forever and all that," Grimmjow said, waving a hand in the air. "Everyone thinks if you Fall, your life is over because you've been banished from heaven and can never go back."
"You don't sound too broken up about it."
"Tch, I think Falling was the best thing to ever happen to me...besides meeting you that is." Grimmjow said, eyes sparkling with mischief as he teased Ichigo, who wasn't amused.
"You keep telling me crap like that, and you still won't explain why. If you couldn't tell, it's really getting on my nerves," he said, scowling.
"So impatient." The blunette clucked his tongue and leaned forward, placing his chin in his hand. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you have to promise to eat all of the potatoes on your plate."
"What? I'm not a child!" Ichigo said, pushing his plate away from him. "Just tell me already."
"Alright, I guess I'll just have to get you eat another way." Grimmjow gave a long suffering sigh. "The first thing you have to know about Fallen angels is that we live forever, and we don't age, like when we were like the white-winged, halo-wearing ones. Since we were created as angels, not born as humans, we start out exactly as we will always be. We don't change, ever."
At Ichigo's questioning expression, he went on to elaborate.
"Humans change every day, naturally or because of something that happened to them. They age, get wiser, they grow bitter or become nicer. But angels never do any of that, they're kind of like robots, no emotion besides their devotion to God. It's sick, really, but you get it, right?"
"I think so, you're kind of...stuck," Ichigo said, and Grimmjow nodded.
"Yeah, except that when angels Fall, they start to feel some of the weaker human emotions, like humor or boredom." The blue-haired Fallen angel paused for a moment and Ichigo stopped breathing until he started to talk once again.
"And then there have been cases where Fallen angels meet a human that changes everything," Grimmjow said, his voice never faltering for a second and the orangette fisted his hands in the fabric lying over his lap, his heart starting to go into overdrive, beating so fast it seemed to never pause. Swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, Ichigo found his voice again.
"Are you saying...?"
"I first saw you a week ago, the first night Ginjou had his workers in the club. When I saw you, sitting at the bar by yourself, it was like everything clicked into place, like someone had turned the switch to on. I could feel all of the emotions that humans could, and it scared the fuck out of me."
"Grimmjow, I don't know-"
"No, Ichigo, just let me finish," the Fallen angel said. "Please." Ichigo closed his mouth and nodded, more than overwhelmed at that moment and so all too willing to just sit there and absorb just what Grimmjow was saying to him.
"I was scared, and I'd never known fear before, so I left the club and sat in this chair right here for six days. It wasn't until earlier tonight that I realized that I wanted more of the feeling I had whenever I thought of you, so I went back tonight and asked around to see if anyone knew you. Of course, everyone did, and then when I found out you had a contract with Ginjou it wasn't a question of what I had to do."
They sat there in silence for a few long moments. Ichigo didn't have a clue as to what to say and he had to break away from Grimmjow's intense sapphire stare. Reclining in his chair and tilting his head up towards the ceiling, he held up a hand.
"Give me a minute here, this is kind of...well, it's just crazy to be honest," he said, laying his other hand over his forehead. Then he took several deep breaths, trying to quell the hysteria that wanted to respond to the overload of information.
"I know it sounds batshit insane, but there's more to it than that, Ichigo," Grimmjow said and the orangette had to stifle a manic giggle because of course there was more. He righted himself in his chair, breathing deeply one last time before nodding.
"Remember how I said that this has happened before, to other Fallen angels? Well, I know that because all of us belong to a sort of court, the oldest being the ruler over us all, and then there are the ten Aspects below him."
"Aspects?" Ichigo dreaded the answer, but also was entirely intrigued by the idea of an assembly of Fallen angels being organized in such a manner.
"Short for Aspects of Death, each of the ten named and numbered for the one aspect of death that fit with how he was banished from heaven. That's it really, the rest of the Fallen angels make up the rest of the court but don't have titles. But, what's important-"
"You're one of them, aren't you? An Aspect?" Ichigo said, interrupting whatever Grimmjow had been about to say. The blunette arched an eyebrow, questioning silently why the other thought that. "That's why you have a number six on your back, because you were 'numbered' for one of them, right?"
"Yes, that's right." For some reason, Grimmjow didn't sound too proud of his position as an Aspect, and Ichigo didn't push the subject, deciding it was best to change it back to what the other had been about to say.
"You were going to say something about what's important," he said. The Fallen angel gave a curt nod, his gaze moving away to stare unseeingly into space.
"The court is not what I wanted to talk to you about, but it's a part of the offer I told you about. As I said, there have been Fallen like me and humans like you before, and it was discovered that the Fallen couldn't be content unless they had that human that changed them by their side. So our ruler came up with a way to bend the laws about interacting with humans and invented a title for the humans so they could know about our existence and live with that changed Fallen angel," Grimmjow's eyes snapped back like electric blue lightning. "Forever."
"You mean that human...would live forever?" Ichigo's voice was small, but in awe rather than fear.
"But, how is that even possible?"
Grimmjow didn't answer. Instead he pushed back his chair and stood, slowly walking the length of the table to where Ichigo was still sitting, and the latter couldn't find words when the Fallen angel knelt on both knees by his feet like a slave would a king. It was so very unreal to see Grimmjow in that position that Ichigo wanted to reach out and pull him to his feet, but all coherent thoughts flew out of the window when he saw the glittering blue jewel in the palm of the other's hand.
It wasn't a ring, but rather it was one of the largest natural sapphires attached to a choker length strip of black satin, a silver number six charm dangling from right below the jewel. Normally, Ichigo would have been put off by this romantic display, but no one had ever truly made a gesture like this to him before, so instead he felt appreciated...loved.
"I'd have all the time in the world to answer your questions, if you'd just answer mine. I know this is a lot to ask of you, Ichigo, but I'm sure that I want you to stay with me forever, and that you have to know I don't say shit like that unless I mean it. So...will you?" Grimmjow thrust forward the hand holding the necklace that Ichigo found endearing.
And he didn't even have to think about his answer, because he'd known it all along.
"Okay," he said, taking the piece of jewelry. "I'll stay with you, but I just have one condition." The blunette's lips quirked up into an entertained smile, sparkling eyes betraying the happiness that was still so new to him.
"Oh, yeah? And what would that be?"
Ichigo fastened the choker around his neck, liking the way it snugly in the hollow of his throat. "I don't want us to have sex. Not straight away. I know it sounds stupid because of...what I used to do before tonight, but if I'm going to do this, I want it to be different."
"Hmm, no sex...what about kissing?" Grimmjow said, standing from his position on the floor to tower over the orangette in the chair, placing his hands on the armrests and Ichigo's lungs forgot themselves.
He'd barely gotten the words out before Grimmjow's lips were on his and were kissing him like he'd never been kissed before, like he'd never even dreamed possible. So many sparks of electricity coursing through him from just the touching of lips, it was bliss, and he moaned when Grimmjow pulled away, eyes fluttering open when he realized he'd shut them.
"I have one condition as well, Ichigo," the blunette said, reaching for Ichigo's left arm and pushing the silk, long sleeve covering it up to the elbow. The orangette cringed as the skin of his inner arm, pale and thin and littered with the black and blue of track marks, the places where he'd pushed a needle through, was exposed for the other to see. "This has to stop."
Terrified by the thought of going without the only thing that had been there for him, but finding a new inner strength that had formed knowing now that someone cared about whether he lived or died, Ichigo simply said "I know."
"I'll be there. I won't leave you by yourself the entire time."
"Even when I start throwing up and cursing you out and breaking things?" Ichigo said bitterly. He'd tried to get clean before.
"Yeah, even then." Grimmjow then pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around his back.
"You're the only person who's ever cared," Ichigo said, suddenly exhausted and leaned into the Fallen angel for support.
"You're the only person I've ever cared about. The rest can go fuck themselves." The blunette then led him out of the dining room, up the stairs, and down the hallway to those pair of doors with the panther head door knockers Ichigo had seen earlier. They opened without even the slightest touch to reveal what was, as he had suspected, the master bedroom, and it was obvious what exactly the secret that Grimmjow had mentioned earlier was.
The room was massive, with a separate sitting area away from a raised platform that contained what Ichigo had to assume was the bed and the secret, for it was completely made out of two separate sections of some kind of metal that he'd never seen before and looked like they were meant to come together, encasing the luxurious mattress and midnight blue satin bedding.
"Grimmjow...why is your bed made out of metal?"
"Oh right, almost forgot about that." The other male chuckled softly before speaking again. "A long time ago, there was an angel who Fell and like the stupid prick he was started revealing himself to humans, telling them how we can't stand the sun and have fangs. That started the whole vampire myth."
"You can't go out in the sun?" Ichigo said, now thinking that the bed built like a bomb shelter made more sense now. He followed Grimmjow's lead and sat down on the couch in the sitting area, instinctively leaning into the other.
"I can, just don't like to because it hurts like hell. It's one of the things that happen when we Fall; we're not good enough to be in the holy light of the sun so it feels like we're burning us alive if we step into direct sunlight."
Ichigo cringed, letting his head fall onto Grimmjow's shoulder. It already felt so natural to do it.
"You don't drink blood, do you?"
"No, but you will," the Fallen angel said.
"You're kidding, right?" The orangette lifted his head to stare up to see if Grimmjow was laughing at him for believing such a thing.
"Sorry, sweetheart, but no I'm not. It's the only way to give humans immortality, the blood of an angel." He ran his fingers through Ichigo's sunset colored hair. "Don't look so put out, you only have to do it once."
"Will it be yours?"
"Yes, I wouldn't let some other angel give you eternal life, you know," Grimmjow said and Ichigo laughed softly, putting his head back onto the bare shoulder right next to him.
"Are we going to do it tonight?"
"No, we'll have to wait until you're well. Not just clean, but fattened up a bit too."
Ichigo never thought the day would come when he would feel happy that another person wanted him to 'fatten up', but there he was, smiling so hard his face was in pain.
"That actually sounds kind of nice," he said and Grimmjow hummed in agreement before they fell into a content silence and Ichigo contemplated just how much his life had changed in just a few hours that night. He was going to be free from the iron grip of Ginjou and his own vices, and he would never have to want for anything ever again, because, though it was still unspoken, he knew he had someone who loved him. And in a little time, he could come to love in return. It was so foreign to him, the concept of that kind of all-consuming love, and he knew it was to Grimmjow as well, but he supposed they could learn together.
Their peaceful moment was then interrupted by the doors to the master bedroom flinging open, a sea-foam haired woman in a black dress searching the room wildly until her eyes landed on the choker Ichigo wore around his throat. Her resulting squeal of happiness had both men covering their ears.
"He said yes!" Nelliel jumped up and down in the doorway while Ichigo and Grimmjow exchanged a look.
"If she's a Fallen angel too, how can she be so...emotional?"
"Nelly's just special like that," Grimmjow said, smiling.
"I can't believe it, I'm so happy right now," Nelliel said as tears of joy escaped her eyes.
"Yeah, me too."
A/N: Um, so I know some of you may hate me for starting another story, but I just started writing this and couldn't stop. It's also a transition from my usual style into the direction I want to go in. I'm trying to add more dialogue into my stories and eliminate needless detail and adverbs. So, tell me what you think? :)
For those unfamiliar with the terms "track marks" and "getting clean" and "off-white powder in little translucent bags", Ichigo is addicted to heroin. Next chapter will contain how he reaches sobriety.