There is an awesome German translation MondayTillToday did if any of you guys want to see it: www. fanfiktion. de /s/ 51cb499b000124eccb7b3cd

Don't forget to delete the spaces! I thank you once again for spreading my writings, MondayTillToday :)

Dedication: Confusion No Hime! I'm really sorry for taking such a long time! I was hoping to give this to you on the day of your exact birthday, but then I was all busy and I just didn't have enough time. Hopefully you'll like this, anyway!

Warnings: Malexmale, profanity, overflow of cheesiness, and mild sexual situations.

Painting Flowers Brown

By Curiosity Killed Kristy

He entered the room with this stuck-up, I-don't-give-a-fuck atmosphere.

Yet, I was drawn to him like magnet to a refrigerator.

I approached him.

He ignored me.



He got assigned as my lab partner.

I ignored him.

He did all the work by himself.

We got an A.


"Got a pencil?"

I chuck one at him, one that he successfully catches in the palm of his hand.

"Name's Ichigo," he introduces.

I chuckle.


He notices this.

He glares at me.

Leaves me right when the bell rings.

No wonder he ignored me.

Introductions sucked for him.


"Grimmjow Jeagerjaques's the name."

He raises a groomed eyebrow.

"Laugh all you want, 'cause it's a funny name."

He does laugh.

It sounds like twinkling bells.


He asks to sit with me at lunch.

I say yes.

We talk about the weather, and anything that our minds can think of.

So far, we're failing.

But we don't care.


He sees me in the halls.

He smiles at me.

It's like a white missile throughout all the black of the lockers.

I smile back, but only because I have to.

If I didn't, he'd bombard me with questions.

I don't like questions.

But somehow, I like him.


We met at the store, today.

He was buying blueberries.

I bonked him on the head in greeting.

He scowled.

I smirked.

It was like we were both from different worlds.

Yet, I found myself crossing to his more often than not.


It was like he collided with mine instead.


He invites me over, today.

He's becoming more natural around me, though I can't fathom how or why.

He's still got the bitchy attitude.

And he still has those white missiles and twinkling laughter.


I think I'm still me.

Just a little less hostile.

"What do you wanna do?" he asks me.

I shrug.

He smirks.

Sits beside me. Turns on the T.V.

We're watching a romantic, chick flick movie.

I hate it.

But, I also love it because we're laughing our asses off so bad.

The actors are god-awful.

The dialogue's so cheesy.

The girl is fucking retarded, while the guy looks retarded.

He sees me laughing with him.

I know he's surprised.

I've never laughed wholeheartedly in front of him before.

We stare at each other like we're the only two in the world.

Maybe I've watched the movie so closely that the words have interlocked and brainwashed my mind.

We stare at each other.

Two minutes.



I didn't notice I was kissing him.


"Wanna watch a movie?"

He surprisingly agrees.

My heart is beating faster than a hummingbird's.

This guy is going to be the death of me, for sure.

We watch an action movie in my room.

My parents aren't home.

We're alone.

He's staring at me again.

I stare back.

I don't know what's happening next, until his lips are on mine, and he's finally responding.


This has become a daily routine for us.

Though, I don't know what 'us' means anymore.

My parents are never home.

And we're always alone.

We're on the bed again.

We're kissing lazily, today.

I know he's desperate to tangle himself in my hair, in my arms, and in my lips.

I lick him all over, as he moans my name.

I kiss once, twice, thrice, and I still can't get enough of him.

He's poisoning me slowly like a drug.

I'm finding myself more and more addicted to his taste.

His smell.

His eyes.

I enter him slowly, as I relish the sound of his painful cry.

I love it.

The sounds.

He's crying underneath me now.

I kiss them away.

I distract him by twisting his caramel nipples, as I thrust back and forth.

Back and forth.

It feels good.

He's tightening around me even more.

He's close.

It feels so fucking good.

I'm fast and brutal.

Yet, he's enveloping me in his arms and legs, and screaming out my name like he likes me a lot.

He likes me a lot.


I give him a flower, today.

He thinks it's funny how I give him a present for no reason.

I just tell him to shut up.

I fuck him again.


It's been two months.

We call ourselves an item, now.

We're at my house again.

On my bed again.

Naked, again.

I wrap him in my arms.

I cradle him.

He responds by burrowing his face in my neck.

He tells me he loves me.

And then he falls asleep.


Seven months.

He's said it three times during those times.

And in each and every one of them, he's given me hopeful looks.

But, I've never said it at all.


One year.

He's said it even in his sleep.


We graduated two months ago.

We got an apartment together.

Ichigo's going to a community college for lessons in painting, while I'm in a different college, learning to become a doctor.

Ichigo's searching for his keys.

They're in his hands.

I tell him that, and he laughs and goes off to his part-time job.


Ichigo's called me to say that he'll be late coming back home.

He has to finish a project at school.

He says he loves me, and then the call breaks off.

He doesn't wait for me to say it anymore.


I give him the same flower on our anniversary that I gave him when we were still in high school.

We fuck.

And fuck again.

He says he loves me.

He takes a shower with me.

We fuck.

And then, he puts the flower in a vase.

He paints it brown on a canvas, though.

"Why are you coloring it brown? It's purple, Ichi."

He smiles.

"That's the color blue and orange makes."


"Who gave this flower to me, Grimm?"

I stare at the flower in his hand.

It's the one I gave him last week.

It's wilted and dying.

"I did, Ichi. Don't you remember? It was for our anniversary."

His eyes dilate in realization.

"Oh, yeah."

He fingers the petals.


Ichigo's making dinner for my birthday.

He says it's going to be a feast.

I find him sitting on the couch, staring off into space, while smoke is coming from the kitchen.

I run there, and find the food is burning.

I find the fire extinguisher, and spray it all over the good food.

Ichigo enters the kitchen, and his eyes widen.

"Ichigo, what the hell?"

He searches the room as if looking for an answer.

"I-I forgot about it. Sorry, Grimm," he apologizes.

I hug him, and tell him it's all right.

We kiss and never speak of it again.


We're on a vacation to Tokyo.

We were up all night, touring around the place, and hitting clubs, but never touching one drink.

We wanted to remember everything we saw.

Ichigo stirred in his sleep.

It wakes me.

He looks around the room as if he's never seen the place before.

"Gri-Grimm, where are we?"

I raise an eyebrow.

"We're in Tokyo, remember? Did you drink anything last night?"

I rub his back with soothing circles.

He stares at me.

"I don't remember."


Ichigo was looking for the painting he just made yesterday.

I haven't seen the painting at all.

But, I knew it had to be in the room.

He was searching frantically for it, although he would remember that every time.

He always left his paintings in the room to dry.

I direct him there.

He begins to cry.

"Grimm, what's happening to me?"



We went to the doctor.

Ichigo was crying again.

"Grimm, I don't know how," Ichigo sobbed.

"You don't know how what?" My heart was in trepidation.

"I-I… I don't know how I'm going to live without your memory..."

My fists retracted.

I pulled him towards me.

He sobbed.

I didn't how I was going to live without him, either.


He's forgotten our anniversary.

My birthday.

His painting abilities.

Some of his friends and family.

And it's only been the second month.

I'm kissing him again.

He's crying softly.

"Grimm, have you ever made love to me before?" he's asking me this, with tears in his eyes.

I hold his hand.

"I have."

I kiss his forehead gently.

He goes to sleep again, tears leaking from the corners.


It's the fourth month.

He's forgotten where he's been staying for weeks.

In his own room.

In our room.

He cries every night, knowing that one day it'll come.

"I love you, Grimmjow."

At this proclamation, I find myself almost welling with tears.

But, I don't.

"I lov-" I begin.

But, he's shushed me.

"Please don't say it, Grimm… I don't want to forget the moment you've ever said it back. If you don't say it… maybe, I don't have to worry about forgetting it."

This time, I do cry.

I hold him so tightly I'm not sure how he's still breathing.


It's the seventh month.

He's forgotten who I am.

I show him his old paintings.

He thinks it's somebody else's.

I tell him that my name's Grimmjow.

He thinks I'm someone new.

I tell him that I love him.

But, he thinks I'm delusional.


It's been one year.

The only thing he remembers is his name.


Every time I enter his room, he introduces himself to me with a brilliant smile.

It was the white missile.

But, the next day, he won't remember who I am anymore.

I can't kiss him, or else he'll think I'm some kind of freak.

I wait for him to go to sleep.

That's when I hold his fingertips that never hold mine.

That's when I kiss his lips that never respond.

That's when I tell him that I love him with all my heart that he can never hear.


I remember everything about him.

His likes and dislikes.

His smiles.

His laughter.

His eyes.

His sounds.

His smell.

His touches.

It's like whenever I look at open space, all I can remember is the memories that have faded from his mind.

My fingertips recoil into my palm, reminiscing of the time where his hand held mine.

My lips ached to be caressed by his.

My tongue to trace every part of him that marked him mine.

Everything that marked him mine.


I gave him the same flower that was purple.

But, I painted it brown this time.

He's smiling at me again.

"This is the color orange and blue make."

Somehow, I feel as if he's inside there somewhere.

But, that's too much to hope for.

I smile.

He holds my hands.

And that's when I know that I have to let him go.


It's my last visit, today.

He introduces himself again.

I give him the same flower, painted brown.

He grins, and thanks me.

But, he doesn't say what colors make up brown, today.

I kiss his forehead, as he stares at me bewildered.

"I'll see you soon… Ichigo." I grasp his hand.

They respond.

I cry and let the tears fall where they may.

"I love you… so much." I wrap him in my arms, and though he doesn't remember me, I remember him.

He embraces me, and I cry even harder.

This isn't the Ichigo that I met and fell in love with.

But it's still Ichigo.

And I love him.

I release him, as he gives me a quizzical gaze.

I smile one last time.

I ruffle his hair.

One last tighten of my fingers.

"Goodbye, Ichigo…" I leave without another glance back.

He waves.


I've graduated from college.

I'm a doctor, just barely starting out.

It's been four years since I've left him.

I'm returning again.

He's there.

He's staring at something.

It's a painting.

I look at it.

He looks at me and he smiles.

I'm anticipating the introduction.


My eyes widen.

He shows more of the painting to me.

I see that it has a man with blue hair, a smile adorning his face, while he's holding a man in his arms with orange hair.

'Grimmjow,' is etched at the corner of the painting, and my heart sinks.

Ichigo doesn't remember me.

He merely read the title.

"Keep it. It has you on it." Ichigo is smiling the missile.

I realize that I've missed it.

I take it from him.

I notice something is written on the back.

Ichigo isn't paying attention to me anymore.

He's looking out at the window.

I read it.

I smile, tears in my eyes.

It's short, but it had the remainder of Ichigo on it.

When he was still himself.

Keeping the memory alive- Love, Ichigo

When I look up, Ichigo is smiling at me again.

I smile back.

I take his fingers in mine.

... And he responds.