This wont be a long story, I don't think. I have a history of not completing long stories.

Anyway, this has a little bit of Il Forte/Grimmy, and Szayel/Grimmy.

"Remind me why I'm here again?!" The teenager snarled, begrudgingly sitting in the stiff chair in front of the desk. The irritable teen leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs on the top of the desk. A hand came down behind him and smacked the desk next to his feet, making a loud banging noise. The boy flinched slightly and brought his feet down to rest on the floor.

"You're here because my damn brother wouldn't shut the fuck up about his friend failing. I only offered to tutor you to shut him up!" The other man in the room snapped, fixing his glasses irritably. This teenager was nothing special. He had pale blue hair that spiked up, and eyes to match. Szayel would admit, he was more toned than most high school kids, but that's really all that set him apart. As far as he was concerned, he was just another face in the crowd.

"Well, Il Forte's not doing much better than I am! And he's not stuck in this hell hole why?!" He bitched, subconsciously fixing his tie. Szayel's head was starting to hurt from his persistent yelling. So, he clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Enough. I'm here to help you pass so you have a decent shot at acing entrance exams next year and that's it. Then you can kindly get the hell out of my house." Szayel Apparo Grantz didn't take shit from anyone. Especially annoying teenagers. This teenager happened to be one of my brother's best friends, so the pink haired man couldn't just abandon his need for education. Actually, that's not the truth at all. He just didn't want to hear his little brother's bitching for another instant. He seemed to accept this as an appropriate answer, because he shut up and looked down at the paper the older man had placed in front of him. After about thirty seconds of silence, he decided to open his mouth and talk.

"So you're a writer huh?" He said, obviously failing to comprehend the stacks of manuscripts lying everywhere. No wonder the kid was failing. "What do you write?" Procrastinating bastard. The author decided to freak him out a little. Chuckling a little darkly, he reached for the closest book that was lying around. It was probably one of the more graphic books that he'd ever written, but hey whatever shut the kid up. He looked at the cover for a full three and a half seconds before looking away in near terror. Szayel was an extremely famous boy's love author. A lot of women fawned over his writings.

"This is my area of expertise." He said with a smirk at his quickly reddening face. Who knew teenagers were so squeamish when it came to sex? The teen was spared answering because just then the front door opened and Szayel's little brother walked in, throwing his bag on the floor.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd still be here, Grimmjow." He said blandly, tucking a few strands of long blonde hair back behind his ear. Grimmjow shot him the nastiest look that the pink haired man thought he'd ever seen on a teenager's face. Chuckling a little bit, he turned my back on the two and made his way to the kitchen.

"You hungry, Il Forte?" Pain in the ass never ate unless he could convince his older brother cooked for him. Said older brother heard a slightly muffled and a little contented 'yeah' and turned to see why the reply was so unlike his brother. Il Forte was behind Grimmjow, his arms around the other boy's waist. His face was buried in the other's soft-looking blue hair. Il Forte looked very at ease, with his eyes closed and his chest falling lightly. "Would you two like to get a room with a door?" Szayel asked, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall. Immediately, Il Forte moved away from Grimmjow, a slight shade of pink under his eyes.

"No? Well how about you at least wait until I'm not around before you start fucking each other?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked as Grimmjow hastily stood up.

"Unlike you, I'm not some faggot!" He yelled, pointing at Szayel with a menacing glare. The older man's smirk widened and he chuckled.

"What do you mean 'unlike me'?

"What the fuck do you think you pervy porn writer?!" He snarled, making his way to the front door. "The day I ever fuck a guy will be a cold day in hell indeed!" With that, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door as he went. Almost immediately, Il Forte stormed past him, roughly shoving him aside.

"You're an ass you know that?!" He hissed, giving Szayel a glare with violet eyes. Amber eyes rolled in annoyance.

"Seems to me like he wasn't gonna fuck you anyway. Straight guys tend to steer clear of that particular speed bump." He chuckled again before walking over to where Grimmjow had been sitting. His paper hadn't even been done a little bit. Szayel sighed. Oh well, tomorrow was another day.

"You ruined my chance to see," Il Forte said with a snarl. "Not that'd you give two shits about what happens to me." He sounded like he was trying to strike deep with those words. The older of the two simply turned to face him, a cruel smile on his face.

"You're absolutely right. I don't give a flying fuck what happens to you. You could die tomorrow and I wouldn't shed a tear." It was mean, but it was the truth. Il Forte and Szayel were not close at all, like the brothers in Szayel's books. They may as well be two strangers who lived under the same roof, the way they acted. Il Forte stormed off in a huff, slamming his bedroom door. He would cope the way he normally did: by turning up his music and drowning Szayel out for the rest of the night. How childish. Smirking to himself, Szayel walked back into the kitchen to make his food. Fucking blonde bastard would get no food if he didn't make it himself. The pink haired man was amused at his little brother's intentions to the other teenage boy. He acted as though he was in love with Grimmjow. This was one of the reasons he had sent the teenager fleeing into the night. Love was such a pointless emotion. He saw no need for it, so he cut it out of his life completely. He even refused to be in the presence of it. So, in sending Grimmjow away, he was protecting both him and his brother.

OOO

"Fucking asshole, thinking I would fuck another guy!" Grimmjow muttered, slamming his keys into the door and twisting the handle. Once inside his dingy little apartment, the blue haired teenager threw his bag onto the nearest chair and wandered into his room. He flopped backwards on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while, until his phone went off in his pocket. Grimmjow pulled the damn thing out of his pocket to see a new text flash on the screen.

'My brother's suck a prick. He knows better than to poke at someone's sexuality' Frowning, Grimmjow replied to Il Forte.

'I don't give a fuck what the faggot thinks of me! I just care about. . .' He couldn't finish the thought and inwardly cursed himself. He deleted the text and just put. 'It's fine.' Fuck, maybe that pink haired fucker was right about him.

First chapter done and I have no idea what to follow this up with xD

I'll be typing then
Sarang Hae!!!