By Monday morning I had known every single detail of the picture on Mr. G's Facebook from staring at it for so long. I knew how many buttons were on his shirt. I knew how many buttons were undone. I know just how many people were standing in the background, how many had drinks, and that the couple in the back corner were probably two seconds away from having a room of their own. What I couldn't tell you was who the man in the picture was. I looked for tags, scoured through all of his friends, but I couldn't find anything. I spent the entirety of the weekend obsessing over this picture for reasons beyond me. I knew that I wouldn't say anything to him today when I saw him, but I was still incredibly anxious to see him.

My mind was still on him on my lunch break and I was only two classes away from finally seeing him after three days. My heart jumped in a weird way but I've decided not to dwell on it. I was sitting a table in the courtyard, working on another assignment that Mr. G had given me the week before. The courtyard was busy enough that I didn't need both my earphones in, so I was listening through music through one ear and listening to the business of the student body with the other. And then I heard it.

I didn't need to look up to know exactly where that rev of the engine was coming from. I closed my eyes and wave of panic washed through me. I looked up slowly, and sure enough my eyes fell on a gunmetal colored RSX. I knew that if the windows had been rolled up, the tint would have been so dark that I wouldn't have been able to see the raven haired man sitting in the front seat. I'm sure my eyes were the size of saucers, and I'm sure they grew bigger when the man I was staring at turned to stare back. Ginjou's eyes caught mine and a devilish smirk made its way to his lips. he kept his eyes on me the entire time he shifted his car and pulled away from the curb.

I was going to be sick.

I tried to grab all of my things and stuff them into the messenger bag I had on the table before I threw up. I ran as fast as I could away from the courtyard to the nearest planter, leaned over the edge and emptied my stomach just as the end of lunch bell went off. Initially I thought that because I didn't eat much for lunch was a good thing, but I was definitely wrong. It was way worse. My throat and my stomach burned as I heaved stomach acid into the planter.

The courtyard was quiet and I was sure that no one had seen me; too busy getting to their next class to notice the carrot-top dying in a planter. The quiet scared me and it was only then that I realized that my ear bud had fallen out in my haste to get to the planter. I was just about to put my earbud in place when I heard the crunching of grass. It's a crazy feeling to realize you're not safe and alone; that there was someone there to witness your darkest feelings. I wish I could say I didn't know how was behind me, but in a short period of time, my body had become accustom to the aura that was engulfing me.I pressed my palms into the planter and let out a couple of deep sighs. I stared at the ground hard as I turned around, as if I didn't see him, he couldn't see me.

"That's disgusting."

I felt my eyes narrow as I stared up at him, but they widened once I noticed that he was smirking

"If you're gonna yack, at least do it where no one could see you."

My body reacted on its own when I realized that he was tossing me something. My hands caught the water bottle clumsily. I looked up at Mr. G but he was already turning around to walk towards the classrooms. Looking down the bottle, I noticed that it was half empty already. There was a sense of heat that crept up my cheeks as I uncapped the bottle, pressed my lips against the rim and titled the liquid into my mouth. I took a couple of quick swigs that I spit out to rinse my mouth before drinking the rest of the contents to soothe my aching throat. Mr. G must have noticed that I hadn't moved because he stopped where he was a few paces in front of me to turn around.

"You coming or what?"

He didn't say anything else as he turned back around and walked on. I picked up my discarded bag from the grass and followed him with a sense of urgency. I hated how I felt in his presence. Scared, anxious, relieved, worried, excited, content. Feelings were a waste of time, especially when they all rush you at once. I hated that I was drawn to him like a moth to a light. I hated that I wanted to talk to him. Feelings were definitely a waste of time.

It was a little surprising to find Mr. G's classroom empty when we got there. I should have figured he had a free period of something considering he had rush walk back to the classroom. The entire walk to the classroom I was pretty confident about following my writing teacher back to his classroom, but now that we were there I found the room suffocating. Mr. G didn't say anything as he settled down behind his desk. I realized belatedly that I didn't have any music playing my earbuds were dangling uselessly from my hand. I went to put them back in but Mr. G cleared his throat.

"As a teacher, I feel like it's necessary to ask you what happened back there." He was shuffling some papers that were on his desk. He looked up slowly and I could see those oceanic eyes outlined by thick eyelashes. Something stirred. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised if you didn't answer."

I moved into the room and settled myself into the desk directly in front of him. It wasn't my assigned seat and it felt weird being out in the forefront. "I'm more surprised at myself when I answer any of your questions."

An icy blue eyebrow quirked. "And why is that?"

I didn't say anything. A clocked ticked some where. I shrugged. I felt like I was in one of my sessions. The silence was overbearing. Without thinking I slipped one of my earbuds in. I could feel eyes on me as I fiddled with the iPod in front of me. I didn't look for a specific song, I just hit shuffle and let the sounds of Bloc Party wash over me. It was soothing familiar beat and it fills the silence that had fallen between me and my teacher.

My teacher.

I really had to remind myself that Mr. G was my teacher. My mind instantly went to the pictures I had seen over the weekend: him shirtless, him with his friends, him with his arms wrapped around another man. My heart sunk. Suddenly I felt like a major creep. I closed my eyes as I tried to keep my composure.

When my eyes slid open I found blue eyes blazing at me. I could tell that he hadn't taken his eyes off me since he's looked up. I stare back at them and once again I get a feeling that the words I've been hiding for the past few months tumbling up my throat like word vomit. All I could feel were his eyes probing, asking questions that I'm suddenly so desperate to answer. As I stare into blue, they remind me of an ocean, and just like that stormy grey eyes enter my mind. Word vomit is making its way to the tip of my tongue. I try my hardest to keep it down, but then I realize that it's not word vomit coming up, it's actual vomit.

I'm guessing there was a look on my face because suddenly Mr. G is standing in front of me with a trash bin placed in my face. My stomach empties, but it's not much considering that I had thrown up not even twenty minutes ago. I dry heave into the trash can, suddenly wishing I could disappear. I pull the trash can into my laugh and take in deep breathes. The silence has fallen between us again and I can feel it trying to worm its way into my subconscious and open everything I try so hard to keep hidden.

I close my eyes one my time and look at Mr. G in front of me. He's kneeling on the floor and looking at me with such concern.

"I know you're gay." Word vomit this time.

My eyes went wide. Out of all the things that I could have said that was definitely not what I wanted to say. I watch as a smirk plays on his lips.

"It's not really a secret."

Mr. G sits back on his haunches and crosses his arms over his knees. As he does this, I notice a tattoo of an equal sign on on the back of his arm. In that moment I realized that Mr. G always wore long sleeves, rolled up slightly on occasion. I knew he had tattoos, I saw in a few pictures, but it wasn't like I was going to tell him that.

"Do the girls know that?" I realize belatedly there's a tone in my voice that I don't recognize.

Granted, I barely recognize my voice at all at this point.

Mr. G closes his eyes and throws his head back as he lets out a laugh. A true genuine laugh that causes my cheeks, ears, and neck heat up. My stomach knots and I'm pretty sure that I would die if I never got to hear it again. He's still smiling when he looks back at me.

"I'm sure they do, but choose to ignore it."

"Or you like the attention."

Mr. G was grinning so wolfishly that I was sure that he was going to tell me that he had swallowed my granny whole. "The attention of girls is not something that really goes for me, Ichigo."

I blushed and and looked away. I liked the way that he said my name. Did he know that I wish I grabbed his attention?

I turned back to him and there was a new fire in his eyes that I recognize. I wait for the feeling of nausea to return but it doesn't. I wait to feel sick, to want to run, and to want to scream, but it never comes. Instead, something else comes over me.

I don't know what happens, but suddenly I'm on the floor crying. I feel like an idiot. All I know that is that I've thrown myself from my desk. My arms are wrapped around my knees as I bawl into my chest. My mind tries to push back all the thoughts that are consuming me. Fear. It's worse that nausea really. It hurts me like no other. I can feel all the memories flashing back to me and I try my hardest to stop them but they don't. Touches, gropes, fire in eyes that I wish I could erase from my mind forever.

I feel crazy. I am crazy. He probably thinks I'm crazy.

There are arms wrapped around me and I'm thrashing like a maniac trying to get them off around me. The grasp locks and I feel strong, corded arms hold me into place. My breaths are coming out in harsh pants, gasping for air like a fish. I'm trying to scream to let me go, but like always the words are caught in my throat. I'm still rocking and gasping when I over hear that end of class bell go off. Panic sets in me again as I realize in any minute students are going to filling into the classroom and see the state of us. As if I wasn't a big enough freak as it is.

The arms around me release me and I feel myself being practically dragged off the floor and out of the classroom. I'm pretty sure that my arms has popped out of its socket with the force that Mr. G uses to pull me out of the room. I'm walking in a daze, my heart and head hurting from everything that's happened in the last hour. I could feel eyes staring at me as Mr. G drags me by the wrist to the front office. I can't tell if the flush that I know is apparent on my cheeks are from what happened or from embarrassment of my classmates staring at me. I thought I was over their opinions, but apparently not.

Belatedly, I realize that Mr. G is taking me to the front office. I follow him in like a kicked puppy. He leans over the front desk to talk to the receptionist. She's young and she's staring at Mr. G like he was a piece of meat. My eyes narrow.

I hear him say something about me not feeling well and that was going to escort me home. The receptionist looks over his shoulder at me, she asks if I should see the nurse first, but Mr. G insists it's okay and that I'm better off leaving school entirely. Once again, I feel the uncomfortable shift in the room when I realize that someone has to speak for me. I'm sure the lady at the front desk has been informed with my situation because she doesn't question Mr. G any more.

He turns around and stares at me with hard eyes. A flush creeps up my neck once again. He walks towards me, reaching past me slightly to open the door to the office. He holds it open for me and waits until I walk out before following me. He leads the way to the front of the school, except this time he lets me walk on my own and is no longer dragging me through the halls like a caveman. He waits by the front doors while I head to my locker and change my shoes. Once again, he opens the door for me and I walk out with my head tucked into my chest.

I don't look him in the eyes, but I see through my peripherals that he's motioning to the front gates. The front gates that I saw those stormy grey eyes not too long ago. My heart tenses. My emotions are all over the place and it's exhausting. Instantly, I figure I should text Dr. Unohana and ask for an emergency session. I've done it before but I always feel bad when I just end up sitting in the peace of her office to escape the calamity that occurs in the real world.

Mr. G is waiting for me to pull out of whatever thought I was in and starts walking towards the front gate. Yet again, I find myself following his lead. He pauses at the front gate as if he's waiting for me to point him in the right direction. Point to the left side of the entrance and start making my way down the path. The distance between my house and the school isn't very far, by any means, but today it feels like an eternity. Mr. G is silent as he walks next to me, our paired footsteps really the only thing that's making noise.

I can feel myself wanting to tell Mr. G everything, let him know what's happened to me, let all my dirty laundry air out, but I can't. I have an undying need for him to know, to comprehend that I wasn't like this before. That I was a normal seventeen year old until it was ripped away from me and then I wasn't. I want him to know that my breakdowns aren't his fault, and while I know he doesn't suspect that they are, I want him to be sure. I want him to know that I'm broken and there's no fixing me.

The tears fall before I can stop him. My house is only a block ahead, growing in the distance with each step. I find myself slowing down. I can't explain what's happening, what's wrong with me. All I want is to be alone, but Mr. G's presences is welcoming and I hate it. I hate that he has this unknown effect on me. I hate that want to stay with him longer and run away at the same time. I hate that I talk to him. I don't talk to anyone.

As if he sensed it, I feel Mr. G stops next to me and faces me. I watch as his hand comes up and makes its way towards my face. I know he's only going to wipe my tears away, but something inside causes me to flinch away from him. He notices and retracts his hand away like I snapped at him. Guilt washes over me as I look up at him.

Those damn eyes. Always probing, always asking, always wishing I'd answer. They watch me in a way that I wish I hated, but I don't. I know this means nothing to him, I'm some punk student with issues and he's a concerned teacher. Again, my emotions are getting ahead of me. Fuck, I sound like a whiny brat and this isn't me at all.

As I reach up to wipe my falling tears I let out a deep breath. I look to my left and stare down at my house. Mr. G watches me, his gaze falling on the sign that says "Kurosaki Clinic" above our modified garage. I hear him let out a huff of air and I turn back to watch his profile. His eyebrows are drawn in, mouth turn down in a frown. I can see his jaw twitching, the tick forming on that perfect angular jaw. I know I should pull my gaze away but I don't, not even when he turns back to face me, his frown deepening.

If this had been three months ago, if I was still the kid I used to be, I would have thrown myself at Mr. G. With my emotions on haywire today, I've finally decided that I was tired of denying my attraction to my teacher. It was wrong, but it didn't feel like it. If I wasn't so broken, I know I'd be like those shameless girls who were always trying to gain his attention. But that wasn't the case. I was broken, used. No guy like Mr. G would even bat their eyes my way if they knew what I had been through. The reminder washes over me and I feel anger wash over me, yet another emotion to add to my arsenal of feelings that were overwhelming me today.

Fuck, I was exhausted.

I don't take my eyes off him as I let out a deep breath. "Thanks for walking me home Mr. G."

I don't even question myself as the words tumble out of my mouth. I'm too tired to question every little reason I find myself speaking actual words to the man in front of me.

His eyes scan my face, my cheeks burning. "Grimmjow, call me Grimmjow."

"Grimmjow." I taste the name on my tongue. I like it.

The way I say his name has him narrowing his eyes. He doesn't say anything and yet again I find myself surrounded by a silence that I don't feel the need to escape.

"I should head in..."

I look down at my feet and kick a rock. Deep inside I want Mr G- Grimmjow - to tell me not to. He doesn't, of course. What would he want with a broken seventeen year old? I say nothing else as I hitch my bag higher onto my shoulder and step away. I use every will in my body to not turn around. I can feel him staring at me, those eyes hold me in ways I didn't know was possible. My heart is pounding by the time I finally get into the house. I close the door behind me and press my body into the door.

I'm taking calming breaths as my mom rolls her way around the corner. She looks up at me in surprise and rolls her way towards me.

"Hey Honey, what are you doing home?"

I'm assuming the school hasn't called based off of her question. I merely shrug, hating myself for not being able to talk to my own mother. Hating myself for only allowing myself to talk to someone who was practically a stranger. She offers me a small smile and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. We've had everything in the kitchen lowered shortly after the accident. it allows my mom to still participate in everyday activities. Everything is the perfect height for her and the twins, but makes my dad and I feel like giants.

"I was just fixing up your dad a snack, would you like some too?"

I nod my head and give her a small smile. I always try to put in more effort whenever I talk to my mom. She deserves more than just shrug after everything I've put her through. I take a seat at the table and watch as she expertly moves around the kitchen. I feel the same guilt that I always do whenever I see her having to do modified task because of her disability. As if my emotions couldn't be any more crazy, I feel myself hating myself a little bit more.

I must of let out a sigh or something, because my mom is placing a plate of cut up fruit in front of me. She's looking up at me with so much love that I can feel tears forming. How could she love me when I was so broken? How could she love me when I broke her? I shake my head and try to will the thoughts away. It's been nearly eight years since the accident and I still wasn't over it. Truthfully I never thought I would be. My mom places a hand on my cheek and rubs it affectionately with her thumb. She gives a little pat before she pulls her hand away.

"I'm going to bring these to your dad, why don't you go lay down for a nap. You look like you need it." She doesn't say anything else as she backs up and rolls away from me.

Following her advice, I make my way upstairs towards my room. As soon as I enter a thick cloud of silence envelopes me. Heart pounding I tap my pockets looking for my iPod. I reach for my bag, turning it over completely, not caring that all of my paperwork and books crash to the floor. I see my beat up phone, but no iPod. My breathing becomes shallow as the silence that has formed in my room grows louder. Panic sinks in further when I realize that it's not there. I clamp my hands over my ears as if it would be any help to block out the memories that are flooding back.

My hands went clammy as I fell to the floor. He wasn't there but I could still feel him. Hot hands making their way down my body. Breath on the back of my neck heating the skin and making it damp. Hair tickling my ears. Flesh on flesh. Tears that never stopped.

Tears flowed. If I could have thrown up I would have. I'm telling myself that it's not real that I don't need to be scared. That everything was over and I'm moving on with my life. Except I'm not. I'm not moving on at all. I'm still the crumple mess of tears and broken body that he left on the floor when he walked away one last time. I feel myself choking out loud sobs, curling myself into a ball as tears flow out, not seemingly like they'd stop any time soon.

I wake up and my room is lit. There's music playing in the background and the silence that was eating at my heart early has recessed, biding its time until it has a chance to attack again. I'm still on the floor, my body uncomfortable against the carpet. I stare into the nothing for a second until I realize I'm not alone. My head snaps and I see Dr. Unohana sitting on my computer chair with a sad smile on her lips. I let out a sigh once I've realized that it was her who put on the music. The sound of Sinatra fills the room and I realize it's coming from the speaker on her phone that she's placed on the carpet next to me. Never in my life have I been so grateful to see her.

I push myself off the floor with a wince and sit cross legged. I notice that she's brought the white board with her, only two colors are my option today: red or blue. I close my eyes and take a shaky breath as I reach forward for the blue marker. I hear Dr. Unohana scribble something on the pad in front of her.

Why are you here?

"Your father called me." Her voice is calm.

I can't help but wonder how much this house visit is going to cost.

"Don't worry, Ichigo. I'm here as a favor."

I hate it when you read my mind. I scribble quickly and show her.

She laughs lightly and I feel a scowl form on my face. "Ichigo, if I could read your mind, I would know what was wrong."

My scowl drops and replaces with a frown. I saw him today.

Dr. Unohana knows. I told her in once that someone did something bad to me and that I didn't want to talk about it. Obviously, that's not that's not how therapy works. I watch as sadness crosses over her face before switching back to the more neutral expression I was used to. She doesn't say anything. I erase what I wrote on the board quickly.

I saw him and I threw up. Grimmjow saw me and took me to his classroom.

I flip the board quickly before turning it around and erasing, my hand moving quickly across the small white board. It takes several minutes for me to write, show her, erase, and repeat, but I get it out there.

I came home and the silence around me became too much. I couldn't find my iPod and I freaked out. The memories came rushing me. How he used to touch me, how he said he wanted the quiet so that he could hear me all the better. I hate it, I hate him. How could he do this to me?

I don't realize how angry I am as I throw the board across the room. It hits the wall next to my bed and lands with a soft thud. Dr. Unohana shows no reaction to what just happened, she's used to my outburst and flashes of anger. Even as a kid I could never control my temper, it only because worse after I quit karate after my mom's accident. Just thinking of the accident causes anger to courses through me again. I pound on my thigh with my fist as I look up at the therapist still sitting silently on my computer chair. She isn't writing anything down, just staring at me.

"Is this the first time you've seen him?" Her eyes are soft, I can tell she wants to bring me a plate of cookies.

I nod, regretting that I've thrown my only means of communication across the room. Well, I could talk. But I won't.

"Have you told anyone else?"

I shake my head.

"Not even Grimmjow?"

I glare at her. How could she tell that I want nothing else to spill my guts out to him?

"I think you should get to know him, Ichigo." She scribbles something down on her notepad. "I think that he's good for you."

I laugh to myself. Good for me? I've said a handful of words and phrase to him in the past week and suddenly he's good for me?

"He's the only one you've spoken to in three months." There she goes reading my mind again. "I'm not reading your mind, Ichigo." I quirk an eyebrow at her. She lets out a small laugh that fills the room effortlessly. "All I'm saying is that if you have that if you have the opportunity to talk to someone, take it. You can talk to me all you want, that's fine with me. But verbal words, being able to express yourself without the constant writing and erasing, is something that's incredibly important."

I know she's right. I want to hate her for it, but I don't. It is her job after all.

"I'm going to prescribe you an additional medicine for your anxiety the next time we meet. I think the anti-depressants are working fine for now, but I want to ensure that we can lessen these panic attacks. This is your second one that I'm aware of in the past couple of days. Who knows how many you're not reporting to me." She gives me a knowing look.

I sit there dumbly as she stands, our session together over. I stand as well and lead her to my door. Together we walk downstairs. My dad is sitting on the couch with my mom in front of him in her wheelchair. They're holding hands and talking with the their heads together as if they weren't trying to disturb Yuzu and Karin who were doing their homework at the dining table. I felt eight pairs of eyes on me once my feet hit the landing. No one says anything and Dr. Unohana clears her throat.

"I'm going to be taking off now."

I watch my dad stand as he makes his way over to his colleague. He gives her a quick hug as he escorts her towards the front door. I watch their exchange, talking in hushed words. I know that she's not allowed to tell him anything thanks to doctor and patient confidentiality, but uneasiness still works its way into my brain. I'm only pulled out of my thoughts when I feel a small hand latch onto mine. Yuzu's tugging on me to follow her to the dining table.

"Come on Onii-chan, you can help me with my Kanji."

I was mildly surprised to see a body standing in front of my desk. I wasn't planning on going to school today. I had every intention of staying in my room and blasting my music and blocking out the world. But I didn't. I went downstairs and saw my mom staring at me with these eyes and I turned around and got ready for class. I had my eyes glued to the paper in front of me as I wrote in my journal, words flowing out of me like they had never before. My pencil paused over the character I had just finished writing. My eyes slowly moved up the curvy form in front of me. I knew that apricot colored hair would be in my view next, followed by a small pointed chin, and grey eyes that were terribly similar to ones that plagued my nightmares.

Orihime stared down at me with a flush across her face. Her bottom lip trembled and I could only imagine what she was telling herself inside her mind. Inoue Orihime was my best friend and last girlfriend. She had known me since middle school, after my mom's accident. She baked me these horrendous cookies after I had told her what happened, but I pretended to like them because I knew she had good intentions. She watched me date girls throughout high school, patiently waiting until I turned my eyes onto her. When I finally did, she cried.

It's terrible of me to say this, but considering I'm a pretty shitty person this shouldn't be a surprise, my only intentions dating Orihime were to continue the biggest lie of my life. When I made my through the girls of our high school, I could never get past kissing them. Girls would be so lewd and let me feel them up, but it did nothing for me. I figured it was them, that I wasn't really attracted to them. It couldn't have been me. No one would believe it. I wouldn't believe it. So, I ran to Orihime.

She's beautiful, curvy in ways that's beyond our years, so sweet, and I already knew I loved her more than I loved any of those other girls. But the love for her was not the same as the love she had for me. The love of a sister, a friend, someone who could keep me sane when I knew I wasn't. And I pushed her away in the worst way possible. I gave her silence that led to an unofficial break up, questions in the air, and no ways of closure.

Orihime blinked down at me. I waited for her to say something, because there was no way I was going to say anything to her. My heart hurt a little. She didn't deserve the silence. She didn't deserve this pain I knew she carried. She didn't deserve to be lead on by her best friend. She didn't deserve to love me more than she loved herself. She didn't deserve a boyfriend who cheated on her with a guy.

"Kurosaki-kun."

Her voice was soft and it tickled my ears. In that moment, it felt like it had been more than three months since I last heard her say my name. The pain in my heart grew a little more.

"You don't have to say anything to me, Kurosaki-kun." Her voice trembled. "I saw you get sick yesterday. I also saw you leave with Mr. G." Her voice was quiet and even though there was business in the classroom, her voice was the only thing I could comprehend. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not hurt. That I can't comfort you at all. I'm so worried about you, Kurosaki-kun. I'm so worried about my best friend…"

She didn't say anything else. I watched as the tears streamed down her face, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. Orihime stared at me for a second longer before rushing out of the classroom just as our teacher walked in to begin class. Nemu-sensei watched as Orihime ran off, yelling after her to come back to class. I didn't think, I just felt my legs propel after her. My mind registered that Nemu-sensei hadn't called after me.

The hallways were deserted and it didn't take me long to find Orihime. She was sitting on the staircase, her face in her hands as her shoulders shook uncontrollably. I didn't say anything as I sat next to her and wrapped my arms around her instinctively. She turned in my embrace as she wrapped her arms around me, tears instantly soaking my shirt. I rubbed small circles on her back as she cried, her breathes deep and long as she tried to control her emotions.

"I love you so much Kurosaki-kun. I've loved you since the moment that you walked into my life. When I lost my brother, all I had was you. You've seen it all, the good, the bad, the ugly. I love you so much that I could never hate you, despite what Rukia says."

She pulled away from me and pounded her small fist into my chest. I pulled her back in.

"Why can't you talk to me? Why can't you let me in, knowing I love you so much?"

If there was anything left to my heart, I'm pretty sure it would have broke into a millicon pieces at this moment. Having Orihime cry in my arms reminded me how much of a shitty person I was. How I didn't deserve to be happy, that I deserve to be as broken as I am because I break every person around me. I held onto Orihime tighter. The nicest girl I ever met was breaking in my arms because of my stupid decisions. I couldn't protect the last girl I'd ever love because I couldn't protect myself.

Shitty patient, shitty son, shitty friend.

"Excuse me."

Orihimie and I both jumped at the voice. I didn't need to turn around to know who's deep voice it was. Orihime's face flamed red, I couldn't only imagine it was from the exertion of crying and from the embarrassment of being caught. I straightened my shoulders as I turned around, catching impossibly blue eyes instantly. They were hard and reminded me of glaciers. Grimmjow's stance was brooding and I could see the negative waves that were rolling off his body.

"Why aren't you in class?"

Despite the fact that there were two of us there, I could tell that the question was directed more towards me. Honestly, I could have asked him the same thing.

"Mr. G!" Orihime jumped from where she was sitting next to me and began bowing. "I'm so sorry. I got upset over something and rushed out of class. Kurosaki-kun ran after me to comfort me."

Blue eyes flickered in Orihime's direction for less than a second before finding mine again. I could hear Orihime rattling all of kinds of excuses and apologizing profusely, but it sounded like white noise to me.

"Miss Inoue, I'd like to hear what Ichigo has to say on the matter."

My eyes narrowed instantly.

"Ah, Mr. G," Orihime shifted on her feet uncontrollably as she looked between me and the blue-haired teacher. "I'm sure you must have heard that Kurosaki-kun doesn't ta-"

"I know what I said," Grimmjow looked at her with a flicker of annoyance that she didn't deserve. "Miss Inoue, I suggest you head back to class before you miss anymore than you already have."

I said nothing as he directed the comment towards her but not me. I could feel Orihime staring at me, but I refused to rip my eyes away from the blue ones. From the corner of my eye, I could see Orihime give one more bow before running off to class.

"How long are you going to let people think you don't have a voice?" Grimmjow crossed over his arms over his chest.

I didn't say anything.

"That girl deserves to know whatever you're hiding."

I know.

"Are you really pulling the silent treatment on me?"

Yes.

"You have words use them."

No.

"You're better than this."

I'm not.

"Why are you like this?"

I'm broken.

"Who broke you?"

My eyes went wide. I couldn't tell if I said the words out loud or not. I stood up and pushed my way past the other man. I didn't hear footsteps follow me and I was a little disappointed. I made my way toward the front of the school. I opened my locker to change my shoes and stopped in my tracks. In front of me was my iPod with their earbuds wrapped around them, tucked into my shoe. I let out a shaky breath as I reached for it and slipped the device into my pocket.

I reached forward and pulled out my street shoes to change into. Today was shit. After the day I had yesterday, I decided that I didn't need to go to class after all. I pushed out the front door and walked out of the court yard. When I reached the front gates I could feel eyes on me. I looked over my shoulder and found Grimmjow staring at me from his classroom window, a deep frown placed on his lips. Shrugging, I turned and walked off.

Today was shit. I was shit.

Well, hello.

It's been a minute, I know. You'd think that in this day and age, I'd stop having computer issues, but alas that does not seem to be the case. I had to write this on a Google doc and do my best with editing once I copied and pasted it here, so I apologize for any errors or weird spacing.

I'm incredibly thankful for all the people who've read and left reviews or followed this story so far. It makes me so happy to see all of it.

I would like to apologize for the lack of dialogue that this story contains. A lot of what you're going to be reading is in Ichigo's head. I want to point out to anyone who thinks that Ichigo is all over the place in this chapter, its because he is. He's conflicted, he's hurt, he's feeling things he should, things he doesn't think he deserves to feel. His emotional instability is thoroughly validated, we just aren't able to see the full story as why. I tease the information a lot in this chapter and I'm sure you can make certain assumptions from what I've insinuated. I hope you don't think Ichigo is too OOC in this.

I love you guys, thanks for still following my stories even though I take terribly long breaks.