That Good Night

A/N: Just something I've had in mind for a while. I already have the next few chapters written out, but I might not put them up depending on the response. Some/most of the characters are probably out of character, but I am trying to work on that. Also, keep in mind that the narrator-Ichigo is narrating this from many years in the future, so he'll probably sound a bit off. Anyway. Please review if you want to see more.

Rage, Rage

How, exactly, I came to fall in love with him I do not know. But that I did became exceedingly clear one night, the first of winter. There was a chill to the air, a bitter coldness accentuated by the occasional breeze. I remember because Renji was holding Izuru even closer than usual, and the sight of that contact sparked within me a vague jealousy. I could not, at the time, understand the nature or depth of my feelings; I merely knew that they existed. This period of naiveté was brief. I sat and drank my hot chocolate and watched them walk down the sidewalk. I was not so naive, though, as to think they hadn't noticed my presence--I'm not exactly known for my subtlety--but I didn't think they knew the reason for my following them around town. They had already eaten supper, after having watched a movie at the theater. I don't remember which movie because I was too absorbed in watching Izuru to pay any attention, but I distinctly remember how delightfully gorgeous he looked in the dim theater light, his eyes paying rapt attention to what was happening on screen. I also remember how Renji had his arm wrapped around Izuru with this not-so-subtly-lascivious grin on his face. Afterwards they went to this nice little restaurant that almost no one knows about, except I had told Renji when he had asked where the best place to take his date would be. It's really a very nice restaurant, and I still go there every now and then for special occasions. It would have been foolish of me had I attempted to follow them inside, so I contented myself at the cafe down the street. Which is where I was when they began their stroll. After they rounded the corner I got up and resumed my stalking.

I suppose it was his eyes that drew me to him. An air of sadness and melancholy hung about them in such a way that, wherever my gaze may momentarily have rested, I immediately thereafter felt the overwhelming urge to make him smile. I remember the first time I saw him smile. It was right after Aizen had left for Hueco Mundo while we were all still in Soul Society recuperating. I was out for a walk to avoid Kenpachi when I noticed the two of them. Renji was talking--telling a story it looked like--and halfway through Izuru burst out laughing. He doubled over he was laughing so hard, and the tears in his eyes made it look like he hadn't laughed like that for a good while. And his smile. . . it was beautiful. There's no other word to describe it. Beautiful. That image in my mind fueled my desire to make him happy, in a way only I could. Renji didn't deserve him; even now he had that melancholic aura about him. And that made me worry.

They entered a park; a lone sidewalk sparsely populated with street lamps wound lazily through the scenery. It would have been much greener any other time of year, but it was winter, and the trees were dead things, sentries standing watch for the return of life and vibrancy. And it was through this maze of death that they walked--Renji holding Izuru as close as ever--and I followed. I tried my best to hide among the barren trees, and I hoped that maybe they were too distracted by each other to notice me. And then I felt it, in the distance: a hollow. Its roar pierced through the night air. Its presence demanded my attention, but I thought--just for a moment, I thought about staying. But it was my duty to dispatch hollows, to protect the town from their evil; and that sense of duty won out, so I left.

This hollow turned out to be a good deal more challenging than I had anticipated, and not just because it was a menos. My being distracted added considerably to the difficulty, but, after receiving a sizable blow to the gut, I managed to regain enough of my focus to finish it off. I stood amidst a flurry of snow-white feathers as its body shattered into oblivion, after which I hurried back to my body in hope of catching another glimpse of Izuru. But by then they had left the park, and, as usual, I was unable to detect them. I figured they had gone back to wherever Izuru was staying, so I resigned myself to some aimless wandering around town; by myself. It might have been night, but the bright city lights could almost fool you into thinking it was some other time of day. Almost. All they offered to me that night was a cold glow. I walked by cafes and restaurants and everywhere I looked I saw happy couples. That these strangers were capable of happiness gave me some hope, but mostly they served to send me even deeper into the bowels of despair. But it's not like I'm a complete stranger to moping or anything.

Eventually I found myself in the seedier area of town. Every other building was either a bar or strip club; dark, shadowy alleyways filled in the gaps. After a bit of a walk I happened upon one of the less strict establishments, one I knew wouldn't check for an ID. It was mostly dark inside except for the lights shining on the almost naked performers. I took a seat in the corner and watched. Or tried to watch, at least. I had known I was gay for some time--several years, at least; it's a pretty hard thing to ignore. This wasn't my first visit to a strip joint or anything, but for some reason their bodies held no appeal for me that night. The very first time I ever went I was too nervous about being caught to even think about enjoying myself. But since then my uneasiness had waned to the point where any misgivings I might have had melted away into nothingness. This was different; this wasn't nerves. It seemed my desire for Izuru had engulfed me so wholly that no man who bared himself so easily could slake my lust. I left some time later in frustration; nothing at all would go my way that night. On my way out I experienced a flash of almost-misrecognition; I passed by a man who looked remarkably similar to Byakuya, but I quickly dismissed the notion. There was no way he would ever come to a place like this.

It began to snow. It was a gentle snow: not heavy enough to stick but still enough to make me appreciate my jacket. I wondered around for a bit to try and relax. I didn't notice the couples quite as much, but they still bothered me. Granted, my not noticing them as much could easily be attributed to the late hour. I passed by a cheap motel, and through the windows I could see into a few of the rooms. In the first I could see a man in a dress struggling to put on these painful-looking heels; I could only tell he was a guy because of his beard and various other bodily hairs. The next room I could see inside had this middle-aged looking lady in an all-leather outfit holding a whip while some guy was licking her boots. After that I really wasn't in the mood to look in on anyone else, but my curiosity got the better of me when I felt a familiar reiatsu in the last room. Renji; but no Izuru.

I thought this has to be where Izuru's staying, since Renji's still boarding at Urahara's. But what's he doing here without Izuru? They should be having sex or something about now. From what I could tell he was passed out on the bed, probably drunk. Worry taking over my actions, I bolted towards the door and pounded furiously at it. It took longer than I would have liked, but I managed to finally rouse him from his drunken stupor. He opened the door. I could practically see the fumes he smelled so strongly of intoxication. His eyes were clouded and he looked at me as if I were a stranger. "What do you want?"

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Who're you talkin' 'bout?" he slurred in reply.

"Izuru. Where is he? This is his room, isn't it?"

"So what if it is?" he said as he clutched at the door frame for support. It was then that I noticed the bruise covering his wrist. A pale, developing purple splotched asymmetrically; it looked like it continued for some way up his arm. "Haven't seen him for. . . What time is it, again?" He searched his other arm for a watch that didn't exist. He really was very drunk, and he would have collapsed already if not for the door's support. Then he began to cry as his face contorted into a grotesque shape like he had just witnessed something of the purest, darkest evil. "I. . . I didn't mean to," he said. "It just sorta happened. I couldn't help myself. I don't even remember why. I was just so. . . angry. I. . . didn't mean to hurt him."

Anger boiled from deep within me, bubbled from every crevice of my being to replace what had been jealousy. "Where is he?" I repeated, furiously now. "What did you do to him?" My eyes must have reflected my anger, my hatred, because he recoiled noticeably when I glared at him.

"I-I don't know." His words were choked between sobs such that his sentences were broken and full of pauses. From his broken recollection I gathered that Izuru had said or done something to upset Renji after a few too many drinks. That this was not an isolated occurrence and had, in fact, happened several times previously. But that this was the worst incident.

When I asked again for a direction, he pointed vaguely. I didn't even dignify him with a response as I left him helpless at the door. I would have hit him but for my pitying him. I had to find Izuru, but all I had to go on was Renji's most likely wrong direction. Panic almost set in, but I stove it off with all of my willpower; I needed to concentrate. I shut my eyes and closed off my other senses, stopped moving. Furrowed my brow. I could feel them, the spirit threads. And then I felt his, Izuru's. In the exact opposite direction from where Renji had indicated. It was a fair distance away, but I ran as quickly as I could. I was out of breath and the back of my throat stung from the cold, but I finally found him. He was in an alley slumped against a dumpster. His cheeks were stained red, though whether from tears or the cold I do not know. I tried to get his attention, and I was worried for a moment that he might be unconscious before he responded.

"Th-that you, Ichigo?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, as if he had been shouting before but had hushed because of my presence.

"Yeah, it's me," I said, and my heart almost breaks from sheer joy when I see his lips slowly form a smile.

"I thought it was. You've been following us all night." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah." I knelt down to inspect his injuries. "I don't see any blood, but you'll probably be pretty sore for a while. If you want, my dad'll bandage you up."

"Sounds like a plan," he said quietly. When he tried to stand up, he fell right into my arms. "Think I could, uh, borrow a shoulder?" He was embarrassed.

"No problem."

He's heavier than he looks, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I don't know that he realized how much of his weight he was offloading onto my shoulder, but I certainly didn't complain. No need to make him exert himself. He was still half-smiling and just the sight of it renewed my vigor. We weren't actually very far from my house, but it still took longer than I would have liked. Izuru's movements were really very sluggish. Dad was still up when we got home and he went right to work on Izuru without any great fanfare, to my delight. Turns out his injuries were a bit more serious than I had thought. He had at least one broken rib and multiple bruises, several of which were over a week old. And I knew for a fact they weren't from a hollow.

Several bandages and one powerful painkiller later, he and I were able to finally talk. Alone. "So," I said. I really had no idea what I was doing, if you want to know the truth.

"So," he repeated, and he sounded like he was about as clueless as I was. Thank God.

"I guess you'll wanna have a moment to yourself," I said in an effort to make some sort of excuse to leave the awkwardness of the situation. "No reason for me to stay around, right?" I almost even had myself convinced.

"W-wait," he said as I was turning around. "You. . . you can stay--I mean, I want you to stay." He looked as nervous as he sounded.

"Right. What do you need me for? You have Renji, don't you?" I sounded, perhaps, angrier than I should have. "Unless you want me to beat you, too. . .?"

"What?! No! Why would you think that?" His expression became a pained one; his smile faded, replaced with the beginnings of a frown, of tears. "I--"

"You. . . what? You don't think he's abusing you? You think you deserve it? That's bullshit! Why the hell would you stay with him?"

"I-it's not like that." His words took on the intonation of a plea. "He loves me. . . he does."

"It's not love when he hurts you. It's not love when he treats you like a possession, like a-a thing. Why can't you see that?"

"What do you know, anyway? You're just a kid. What would you know about love?" Tears fell freely from his eyes, cascaded downwards from the sea of his eyes. The sadness and the melancholy were still there, strong as ever. "He. . . he's my friend. . . I love him. He wouldn't betray me like that. Not after. . . not after--"

His words died in his throat, were swallowed whole by sadness and despair.

"Not after what?"

"After what happened with--" Again, his words failed him and were drowned by sobs. "With--"

"What happened?" By now the flames of rage and frustration within my heart had faded and been replaced with a gentle curiosity. " Was it Gin?"

He nodded. "He. . . Renji promised he'd never betray me. . . not like he did. He said he'd never break my heart, that he'd love me, that--" He collapsed unto himself, slouched forward and hid his face, his eyes, with his hair the color of pale pine-straw.

"Izuru--"

If before I had thought I was ill-equipped, this moment revealed my complete and utter incompetence. "What Renji—What they gave, what they had isn't love. It just looks like it on the outside." I reached down my hand to his face and lifted it up, so I could see his eyes and the depths of their sadness.

"I--"

I paused for a moment, searched for the right words, the right thoughts, the right feelings.

"I can show you what love really looks like."

A hint, ever so slight and precious, of a smile.

"If you'll let me, that is."

We looked into each others' eyes a moment longer, tried to read each others' thoughts. And, thinking I saw within his gaze reciprocation for my feelings, I kissed him.