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Description
Ever since he was young, Ichigo had suffered from an irrational fear of the darkest shadows of his mind. It had always been something he could easily calm himself down from, but lately, it had been getting worse. He’d been having more and more “episodes” and his grades had begun to show the lack of sleep in his daily schedule. Even his social life had inverted. He avoided watching horror movies, when he’d always been the one to suggest them, and always slept with his desk lamp on despite the fact that he was twenty-two now and it didn’t work anyway. The baseball bat he once used to chase his sisters’ exes out of the house with now leaned against his bed in a shabby attempt to reassure himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. He knew the best way to get over this was to talk to someone, but with most of his friends graduating from college in a couple weeks, his trusted circle had shrunk to about six people, half of which were partiers and wouldn’t bat an eyelash before asking what someone had gotten him to smoke. In all honesty, it came down to three people.

He had crossed his roommate, Toushirou, off the list as soon as he’d figured out who he could talk to. The white-haired man was majoring in psychology, and would probably associate it with stress from the upcoming finals. Ichigo knew that the guy truly meant the best when he said that there wouldn’t be any problems when the time came, but it just kinda rubbed him the wrong way. His father had said the same thing, and then recommended seeing a shrink in the same sentence. Yeah, that conversation had ended with yet another argument and another holiday spent at the dorm working on assignments that weren’t due until the next semester.

Renji was another no-go, as he was prone to overlooking the finer details and tended to forget where he was headed with a certain train of thought once his long-time girlfriend, Rukia, entered the room. Ichigo had absolutely no problems with the pair. In fact, he was more supportive of them, their relationship, and their school careers than he was of his himself and his own. Except for the relationship part; Ichigo preferred to just not deal with those. They led to nothing but trouble for the orange-haired man.

That left Grimmjow, the only other guy on the Karakura University track team that Ichigo could actually hang out with, without wanting to avoid him for weeks afterward. The grouchy blunette was incredibly intelligent and emotionally steadfast in most cases, making him someone that Ichigo was always finding himself wanting to be around. Both men had seen the other have a total fucking breakdown at least once, and needless to say, it had brought them into the emotional roller coaster that was their friendship. At times it seemed like something more, and at others, they wanted nothing else besides to bury each other in nine feet of sand.

Ichigo shook his head and stared at his keyboard, wondering what the hell had brought that up. Maybe it was the piece he was writing for Zangetsu. His creative writing teacher had asked that Ichigo write a new piece every week to be read to the class. There were no extra grades involved, but the growth Ichigo had shown as a writer was more than enough payment. As he skimmed through what he’d already written to get himself back on track, something crashed in the attic. Instantly, he bolted for his bedroom door and wrenched it open. His heart pounded in his ears and he was reluctant to move past the doorway. Toushirou came down the hallway, flicking on lights as he went.

“What the hell was that?” The man had obviously been woken up by the noise, as he was in his pajamas and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Ichigo shrugged and retreated into his room to put sweatpants on and grab the bat.

“Think it was a rat?” Ichigo asked as the two stared at the entrance. They’d known from the start that the small house they’d chosen as a dorm was ancient and would have its issues. However, things going bump at two o’clock in the morning had never been one of them. Already, Ichigo could feel that uncertain itch forming on the back of his head: the one he got when his fears started to take him over and force him into a corner, sniveling and wanting nothing more than a bullet to the brain.

“Sounded too big to be a rat. Pull the ladder down. I can’t reach it.” While Ichigo battled with himself and found somewhere to set his bat, Toushirou went to find a flashlight. Once the smaller man had returned, Ichigo tugged at the string and inwardly groaned. The door wasn’t budging, meaning he’d have to pry it open with his hands. His roommate handed him the flashlight, which he chomped down on almost painfully as he felt around the edges for a lip to slide his fingers under. Something scuttled across the top of his fingers, and he almost screeched. He pulled down as hard as he could, but the door only came down far enough to get a better grip. A momentary flash of frustration at not being able to open an attic latch fueled his movements as he adjusted his hands and lifted himself off the floor, putting his entire weight on the damn thing.

The hinges groaned and swung open, allowing the door to swing open. Ichigo pulled the creaky ladder out and stepped back, wiping his hands off on his shirt. He glanced at Toushirou, who was staring at the dark, gaping hole in the ceiling.

“Well… C’mon. Let’s check it out. You’ve got the light, you first. I’ll hand you the bat once you get up there.” Ichigo almost yelped at the idea, but the flashlight still blocking most of his now-drooling mouth blocked any sound. He let it drop into his hands and flashed it up the stairs.

“Is there a light?” he asked as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“It blew out when we moved in, remember?” Toushirou retrieved the bat from where Ichigo had leaned it against the hall closet doorknob.

“Shit, that’s right.” The orangette grimaced. His mind screamed don’t go, but his pride and inability to force anything on anyone pushed him up the rotting ladder. The wood groaned under his feet as he climbed up, filling the almost tangible silence with its eerie complaints. Once he made it to the top, he plopped his ass down and slowly panned the light across the stuffy room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, minus the boxes that had been toppled.

That explains the noise, but what made them fall..? Sweat beaded at Ichigo’s hairline and ran down his face. He set the flashlight down in a spot where it lit up most of the attic, and scooted down onto the top rung.

“Didya see anything?” his roommate asked as he handed over the bat. Ichigo shook his head.

“Just a couple of boxes that had been knocked over.”

“Any idea on what might have done it?” Oh, sure. Plenty of ideas. Not one of them made Ichigo any more eager to get out of the fucking attic than he already was.

“Nope. Hurry up and get up here. It’s creepy as hell.” The smaller male chuckled as he ascended, the ladder almost silent beneath him. Ichigo almost glared at it, but forgot all about it when something brushed against his arm. This time, he did yell. He scrambled away and swung the bat, freezing as soon as he saw what it was. One of Rukia’s old theatre props that hadn’t fit in her cramped little storage space peered out from behind the sheet she’d covered it with. Toushirou cackled as he picked up the light and meandered over to the fallen boxes, Ichigo hot on his heels. The two grumbled about the heat as they picked up the scattered belongings and restacked the boxes, tossing possible causes back and forth as they worked.

Ichigo had almost calmed down by the time they were climbing back down the ladder. He was still jumpy, but now that he was sure it had just been bad balancing that had been the issue, he blamed it on nerves and assumed it would go away as soon as he sat back down at his desk. Toushirou helped him push the ladder back into its folded position and shined the light back up into the darkness. When Ichigo looked to make sure he wouldn’t squash his fingers, his eyes locked with two glowing green ones that seemingly glared at him. His heart instantly climbed back into his throat and he shoved the attic door closed, fingers be damned. Shaking uncontrollably, he pressed his back against the cool wall behind him and stared at his roommate, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

“I think we’ve got a fuzzy someone living in our attic. Maybe it wasn’t bad balance after all. I’m gonna text Shuu and see if I can stay there for the night. This whole thing brought up my fear of opossums. Opossums, for crying out loud…” Toushirou was saying as he headed back toward his room. Fuck going back to his desk. He was texting – No, scratch that. He was calling Grimmjow as soon as he felt like he could move, and he was going over whether or not the blue-haired bastard wanted him. There was no way in hell that he was staying here tonight.

Description
Ever since he was young, Ichigo had suffered from an irrational fear of the darkest shadows of his mind. It had always been something he could easily calm himself down from, but lately, it had been getting worse. He’d been having more and more “episodes” and his grades had begun to show the lack of sleep in his daily schedule. Even his social life had inverted. He avoided watching horror movies, when he’d always been the one to suggest them, and always slept with his desk lamp on despite the fact that he was twenty-two now and it didn’t work anyway. The baseball bat he once used to chase his sisters’ exes out of the house with now leaned against his bed in a shabby attempt to reassure himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. He knew the best way to get over this was to talk to someone, but with most of his friends graduating from college in a couple weeks, his trusted circle had shrunk to about six people, half of which were partiers and wouldn’t bat an eyelash before asking what someone had gotten him to smoke. In all honesty, it came down to three people.

He had crossed his roommate, Toushirou, off the list as soon as he’d figured out who he could talk to. The white-haired man was majoring in psychology, and would probably associate it with stress from the upcoming finals. Ichigo knew that the guy truly meant the best when he said that there wouldn’t be any problems when the time came, but it just kinda rubbed him the wrong way. His father had said the same thing, and then recommended seeing a shrink in the same sentence. Yeah, that conversation had ended with yet another argument and another holiday spent at the dorm working on assignments that weren’t due until the next semester.

Renji was another no-go, as he was prone to overlooking the finer details and tended to forget where he was headed with a certain train of thought once his long-time girlfriend, Rukia, entered the room. Ichigo had absolutely no problems with the pair. In fact, he was more supportive of them, their relationship, and their school careers than he was of his himself and his own. Except for the relationship part; Ichigo preferred to just not deal with those. They led to nothing but trouble for the orange-haired man.

That left Grimmjow, the only other guy on the Karakura University track team that Ichigo could actually hang out with, without wanting to avoid him for weeks afterward. The grouchy blunette was incredibly intelligent and emotionally steadfast in most cases, making him someone that Ichigo was always finding himself wanting to be around. Both men had seen the other have a total fucking breakdown at least once, and needless to say, it had brought them into the emotional roller coaster that was their friendship. At times it seemed like something more, and at others, they wanted nothing else besides to bury each other in nine feet of sand.

Ichigo shook his head and stared at his keyboard, wondering what the hell had brought that up. Maybe it was the piece he was writing for Zangetsu. His creative writing teacher had asked that Ichigo write a new piece every week to be read to the class. There were no extra grades involved, but the growth Ichigo had shown as a writer was more than enough payment. As he skimmed through what he’d already written to get himself back on track, something crashed in the attic. Instantly, he bolted for his bedroom door and wrenched it open. His heart pounded in his ears and he was reluctant to move past the doorway. Toushirou came down the hallway, flicking on lights as he went.

“What the hell was that?” The man had obviously been woken up by the noise, as he was in his pajamas and rubbing sleep from his eyes. Ichigo shrugged and retreated into his room to put sweatpants on and grab the bat.

“Think it was a rat?” Ichigo asked as the two stared at the entrance. They’d known from the start that the small house they’d chosen as a dorm was ancient and would have its issues. However, things going bump at two o’clock in the morning had never been one of them. Already, Ichigo could feel that uncertain itch forming on the back of his head: the one he got when his fears started to take him over and force him into a corner, sniveling and wanting nothing more than a bullet to the brain.

“Sounded too big to be a rat. Pull the ladder down. I can’t reach it.” While Ichigo battled with himself and found somewhere to set his bat, Toushirou went to find a flashlight. Once the smaller man had returned, Ichigo tugged at the string and inwardly groaned. The door wasn’t budging, meaning he’d have to pry it open with his hands. His roommate handed him the flashlight, which he chomped down on almost painfully as he felt around the edges for a lip to slide his fingers under. Something scuttled across the top of his fingers, and he almost screeched. He pulled down as hard as he could, but the door only came down far enough to get a better grip. A momentary flash of frustration at not being able to open an attic latch fueled his movements as he adjusted his hands and lifted himself off the floor, putting his entire weight on the damn thing.

The hinges groaned and swung open, allowing the door to swing open. Ichigo pulled the creaky ladder out and stepped back, wiping his hands off on his shirt. He glanced at Toushirou, who was staring at the dark, gaping hole in the ceiling.

“Well… C’mon. Let’s check it out. You’ve got the light, you first. I’ll hand you the bat once you get up there.” Ichigo almost yelped at the idea, but the flashlight still blocking most of his now-drooling mouth blocked any sound. He let it drop into his hands and flashed it up the stairs.

“Is there a light?” he asked as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“It blew out when we moved in, remember?” Toushirou retrieved the bat from where Ichigo had leaned it against the hall closet doorknob.

“Shit, that’s right.” The orangette grimaced. His mind screamed don’t go, but his pride and inability to force anything on anyone pushed him up the rotting ladder. The wood groaned under his feet as he climbed up, filling the almost tangible silence with its eerie complaints. Once he made it to the top, he plopped his ass down and slowly panned the light across the stuffy room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, minus the boxes that had been toppled.

That explains the noise, but what made them fall..? Sweat beaded at Ichigo’s hairline and ran down his face. He set the flashlight down in a spot where it lit up most of the attic, and scooted down onto the top rung.

“Didya see anything?” his roommate asked as he handed over the bat. Ichigo shook his head.

“Just a couple of boxes that had been knocked over.”

“Any idea on what might have done it?” Oh, sure. Plenty of ideas. Not one of them made Ichigo any more eager to get out of the fucking attic than he already was.

“Nope. Hurry up and get up here. It’s creepy as hell.” The smaller male chuckled as he ascended, the ladder almost silent beneath him. Ichigo almost glared at it, but forgot all about it when something brushed against his arm. This time, he did yell. He scrambled away and swung the bat, freezing as soon as he saw what it was. One of Rukia’s old theatre props that hadn’t fit in her cramped little storage space peered out from behind the sheet she’d covered it with. Toushirou cackled as he picked up the light and meandered over to the fallen boxes, Ichigo hot on his heels. The two grumbled about the heat as they picked up the scattered belongings and restacked the boxes, tossing possible causes back and forth as they worked.

Ichigo had almost calmed down by the time they were climbing back down the ladder. He was still jumpy, but now that he was sure it had just been bad balancing that had been the issue, he blamed it on nerves and assumed it would go away as soon as he sat back down at his desk. Toushirou helped him push the ladder back into its folded position and shined the light back up into the darkness. When Ichigo looked to make sure he wouldn’t squash his fingers, his eyes locked with two glowing green ones that seemingly glared at him. His heart instantly climbed back into his throat and he shoved the attic door closed, fingers be damned. Shaking uncontrollably, he pressed his back against the cool wall behind him and stared at his roommate, who was staring back at him with wide eyes.

“I think we’ve got a fuzzy someone living in our attic. Maybe it wasn’t bad balance after all. I’m gonna text Shuu and see if I can stay there for the night. This whole thing brought up my fear of opossums. Opossums, for crying out loud…” Toushirou was saying as he headed back toward his room. Fuck going back to his desk. He was texting – No, scratch that. He was calling Grimmjow as soon as he felt like he could move, and he was going over whether or not the blue-haired bastard wanted him. There was no way in hell that he was staying here tonight.