Watch Me Remember
By Curiosity Killed Kristy
[Chapter 1: Waiting]
"I'm tired of this…"
It was funny.
At some point, I began to think I was tired of it too. The funny part was that I didn't know what I was tired of.
"Why do you always have to promise me and break it?"
God. His face was pissing me off. I hated it when he cried. It just felt wrong looking at him; looked so pathetic. So vulnerable. So easy to fucking break.
"I sometimes wonder if you're even listening to a word I say, Grimmjow."
He was wiping his tears now. I didn't want to witness this. Didn't want to see this at all. He was angry now. Wasn't sad. Not bawling his eyes out anymore. I do wonder sometimes how he changed attitudes so quickly.
"I'm… I've had enough of this, Grimm…"
Are you tired of me?
"I don't want this anymore…"
Or are you tired of what I do?
He ran fingers through his hair. Gripped it tight just to hold on to something.
Would it matter if I said I would change?
No. Because that would be another promise I'd break.
"I want to finish college… maybe even help at my dad's clinic. I wanna make somethin' outta myself. But…"
Just not with me there with you…
I heard the door click back into place. I heard his footsteps. I heard his hiccup.
But I sure as hell wished I didn't hear myself.
It was fucking loud. I couldn't stay there for one more minute.
The scent of alcohol was heavy; mingling bodies crushed me against the exit. All these fuckin' whores whoring themselves around… Filthy.
I wondered, though. If I kept walking this street, where would it lead me?
Shit. The fucking ground was so uneven. It was like the constructors of this street were drunk.
Or maybe it was because I was drunk…
"Fuckin' Ichigo…" I mumbled, lifting the beer to my lips. Damn, I couldn't even taste it anymore. "He's such a pussy… Leavin' like that…"
My lips were chapped; no matter how many times I licked them, they always dried. And my knees…they felt like lead. Like I was running for miles and miles, and still walking to finish another mile.
Fuck. The shadows. I held my forehead. Knew that an impending headache was coming.
All these motherfucking shadows.
They were looming about. Under street lamps, against spray-painted walls, plastered on poles, bouncing off of windows, slithering on the sidewalks. It was sickening. So fucking creepy.
I thought I'd never see the day where I actually admitted I drank too much. My stomach churned. Air bubbles burned my esophagus. My knees tumbled towards gravity, my pants ripping where skin met fabric.
The taste of vomit never tasted so vapid. It was like my taste buds were off. Everything felt numb. Everything was shadows. Everything was echoes.
Even his footsteps mirrored each other. The scrape of his knees against concrete had never been so loud.
I blinked, though it didn't help me much. His eyes were the brightest out of everything I was seeing. His breaths fanned against my lips.
"You're the same as the way I left you…"
He was wearing that bittersweet smile. I loathed that even more than the crying.
"Drunk again; why don't you just lay off it for a while?" Then he's standing. And then, he's leaving…
"Don't…" I nearly ripped the jacket he was wearing from the corner I was tugging on. He was staring at me. Surprised.
"I… don't fucking need you." I stared at him, daring him to rebuke. Would he forgive me if I continued this? "For all I could fucking care, you could… die right now, and I would just laugh… Ya know why?" He wasn't looking at me. "'Cause I hate you… always have…" I was anticipating the waterworks.
But he goes and does what I hate even more. That smile. "You're stubborn as always." He nodded to himself.
'Cause nobody else would agree with him right now.
The jacket slipped from my fingers, and they made a last attempt to grab it, but he was already out of my reach.
Is this it?
Five years. Five fucking years. To get to where we are now. Severed in only one day. Would I let it die?
I didn't think. I didn't stop. My arm reached out towards him; that back facing forward. "Ichigo…" The words hung lifeless, yet reverberated throughout the distance that split us.
That head of apricot strands pivoted; to look behind him.
To look at me.
Those almond eyes rippled with water, sliding down his sleek cheek like rubber. Down to his chin to form a definite point. Plummeted to the ground; thousands of atoms in one drop.
One step forward.
If I took that giant leap, would he accept it?
Or would he push me away?
One step. That's all it was.
So, I moved…
And he moved backwards. Eyes terrified.
I knew it…
"Grimmjow, look out!"
Lights. It blinded me.
His fingers; jammed my chest so fucking hard that I was shoved a few feet away.
Then… the screeches.
The vehicle's shriek as well as…
I heard the scattering of feet. The shocked gasps. The beeps of a phone.
They all rang in my head incessantly.
For one night, I actually wished I was blind. Wished that I wasn't kneeling where I was now.
Blood soaked the ground, filling the cracks and miniscule holes. Forever stained. I could smell the copper. See his eyes closed. Hear his shallow breathing, decreasing… decreasing… decreasing…
His hair was tinged with red; I picked him up gingerly. Held his fragile head, felt his thumping heart beneath my hand. I was staring at him; stared at those fucking closed lids.
My fingers coiled around his shirt, right above his chest. "Damn it," I seethed through clenched teeth.
Why would you do that?
Why would you do that?
I told him I would laugh if he died. That I wouldn't give a fuck.
I didn't laugh.
Not one bit.
My hands wouldn't move. Couldn't.
I hated this place. Every time a fucking nurse or doctor passed by, I thought they were the one that operated on Ichigo.
It was frustrating.
Waiting on the inevitable, yet it took a million years.
Every part of me was sweating, with the exception of my hands. Cold as ice.
Tonight was colder than usual. It was November now, wasn't it?
Two more weeks.
Two more weeks and we'd have been six years.
Would Ichigo survive this to actually celebrate it with me?
My fingers rolled into my palms, the knuckles stretching my skin. My fingers were thawed.
"Jeagerjaques-san?" I brought my eyes upwards; scrutinized the lab coat, and the pale-as-white skin that matched with it.
I wanted to punch this lady. Her smile was as fake as prosthetic boobs.
I stood to my feet; wobbled slightly. "Sir, are you all right?"
"Whatever. Just tell me how he is." She nodded her head, gesturing towards a nearby door.
"Please sit, Jeagerjaques-san." She indicated to any one of the chairs with a wave of her hand, seating herself behind a desk. I kept my eyes on that fake smile. "Kurosaki-san is doing well; rest assured."
I didn't relax whatsoever. Kept my vigilant watch on that never-faltering smile. "He has broken a few bones, but none that are too serious; though he did get hit on the head harshly. It's too early to tell what this how this will affect Kurosaki-san. It would be best he stayed in the hospital for the time being, just in case he shows any sign of amnesia."
I swallowed thickly. Fists shaking. I eased the chair back; exited without a glance back.
I called his dumbass family. Though I'd rather they didn't know about it. But if he were here right now… he'd be scolding me for even thinking of leaving his family out of it.
Smoke swirled in the air like fairy dust, coming out in whooshes from the side of my mouth. I breathed it in; contained it for as long as I could.
It fizzed in my brain; cooked it to ease some stress. I leaned my head against the window behind me; sighed and peered at the stars. I could barely see 'em. A few twinkling dots here and there, but other than that, pitch darkness.
Sighed again. Drove fingers into my unruly hair, pulling at the strands with a vice grip.
"I'm tired of this…"
What could've prevented that from coming out of his lips? What could've prevented what happened tonight?
I pulled the cigarette from my dry lips, stared at it one-on-one. "Keh-" I chucked the fucking thing beneath my shoe. Stomped out the flames transforming into ashes.
If I hadn't smoked and drunk so often, would he have stayed?
Visited him again. I do it like a fucking ritual.
I'd place one of his favorite flowers in the vase beside his bed, counting the days his eyes were still closed.
Still in the same position. Same expression. Same condition.
I grasped onto his hand as if it were a life-line, hoping through force that he would just open his eyes.
Open it once.
Still holding onto his frail fingers. "Hey, Ichigo… Are you regrettin' it yet? I sure as hell am." Watched him; those unmoving eyelashes. "Why'd you do it? Why didn't you just walk away…?"
Then I felt it. His fingers… they moved. "Ichigo?" He moved again.
"Shit, the nurse," I blurted. Stood to leave, but something rooted me in place.
His moving fingers.
What if when I came back with the stupid-ass nurse, he would be immobile again?
My fingers enveloped his, his head slightly tilting, eyebrows twitching. "Ichigo, hey, wake up. Ichigo!" His eyeballs beneath those eyelids were shifting about. His fingers responded to my touch.
"Hnn…" His voice sounded hoarse; parched. His chest was lifting. His breaths entering his mouth like a vacuum.
Open your eyes.
Eyelids separated. Pupils zeroed in. Irises bright and alive.
His eyes wandered. Strayed, then settled. "Wha- where-" Panic surrounded him. His eyes, his body, his voice.
"Ichigo, you're in the hospital," I explained.
"Some fucker almos' crashed into me, but ya' pushed me outta the way an' took the hit." He stared at me incredulously.
Like a bewildered stranger.
"W-why would I save you?"
Heat. It was in my fists.
"That's what I'd like to ask you…" Ichigo looked shocked. Analyzed it all in his head. Peered up at me. Stared into me.
"Who are you?"
Who are you right now, Ichigo? Do I know you? Or do you just not know me?
"Grimmjow… we've… we've been together since high school. You remember." I was shaking. My breaths were coming short.
"G-Grimm… jow?" He sounded like a child, trying to sound my name out like that.
"I-I'm sorry… I don't… remember anything…" The shakes stopped. The world stopped spinning on its fucking axis.
I stood to my feet. I didn't know how long I was dashing through the halls in circles until I was outside, the air I exhaled coming out in puny clouds. The air was frigid. Everything was enclosed in ice. Water drifted down from the gray clouds only to pelt at me.
Know what I was tired of, Ichi?
… I was tired of losing you.
This was slightly difficult to finish. I wanted to keep Grimmjow as IC as possible, but it was really hard. The writing style called for emotion, yet we all know how much Grimmjow would deny he had any.