Author's Note: Ahh, first posted story! Kinda nervous, but here goes…
Holy Stranger
She'd gone out for ingredients to make her Christmas dinner, and came back with a stray human.
She had her filled shopping bag in her hand, whistling an overdone carol, and was making her way home through the wind and snow. That's when she found him, buried almost whole under thick layers of white.
"Oh dear!" she gasped, dropping her bag, forgetting it altogether. "Mister!"
Ulquiorra woke up to the smell of hot cocoa and the warmth of an open fireplace. He thought he must've died and gone to Heaven, but then realised that couldn't be; he would surely end up in scorching depths of Hell.
"Oh, you're awake." It was an angel's voice, high and soft, and it was speaking to him. "How are you feeling?"
He looked down at himself, wrapped within the sheets of a futon, dressed in clothes that were damp and ragged, and he remembered. He started to remove his shirt, as it clung too sticky and cold to his person.
"I—I was thinking of taking it off for you." He turned to the angel's voice, and for the first time took a look at the girl behind it: large gray eyes, long caramel hair, and the brightest red colouring her cheeks. "I thought I should take it off, but I didn't think it'd be right for me to…"
He didn't respond, instead taking off his pants under the covers and then handing them with the shirt to the girl. Her blush grew furiously, until he gestured toward the fireplace, and, understanding, she went to set them to dry.
She got him another blanket to wrap around himself, and he sat up to nurse the cup of hot chocolate she placed gently in his hands. Fixing a cup for herself, the girl sat on a floor cushion opposite him.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce myself!" she said suddenly, almost spilling her hot chocolate, and startling Ulquiorra into a jolt. "My name's Orihime Inoue." She smiled at him. "What's yours?"
He hesitated, but replied, "Ulquiorra."
"Ulquiorra…" She tasted the sound of it on her tongue. "I see. So, what were you doing out there, Ulquiorra?"
He thought back, remembering. "Nothing," he said, when a million sounds and images were running through his mind, too many to focus on. He looked to the fire in the wall, so brilliant and mesmerising, it almost hurled him into delusion. "I'll leave once my clothes are dry," he announced, and drank down the last of his cocoa.
"You're free to stay," she assured. "I mean, it's freezing out there, and—"
"Thank you for the offer, but I must go."
She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, and nodded. "I see. It is Christmas Eve, after all. I guess you'd like to spend it with your family."
"I don't have any family."
"Oh. I'm so sorry to hear that." She was shocked, and it showed, but not as much as he, yet he hid it better.
Why had he told her? The words had taken on a life of their own, escaping his throat without consent. He'd never meant to tell anyone before, let alone a perfect stranger.
"Don't worry about it," he said, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she would only do the exact opposite. "They were all trash, anyway."
"But they're your family." He wondered why there was such insistence in her tone, when it was really none of her business. And then he got his answer. "My family are gone, too." She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap, and said, "You know, I never tell anyone this, but I hate Christmas. I'm always alone, because every one of my friends is with their family."
Ulquiorra watched her, and wondered, what was he doing here?
"Where will you go, then? If you have no family," she added.
His answer: "Places. Here, there. Wherever."
"You don't have a home?"
He almost scoffed at the word. "No."
"So stay here," she said.
Again, "No. I couldn't."
She didn't understand, and he didn't expect her to. Home was the illusion of stability, and Ulquiorra couldn't bring himself to fall for it again.
"Stay the night, then," she said. "Just tonight."
He had no reason to say yes, and he had no reason to say no. Before he realised, he had nodded, and she was clapping her hands together and grinning in joy, and he couldn't take it back.
"Oh, I'd better get dinner ready!" she realised, jumping up and into the kitchen. "You can use the bath while you're waiting, if you want."
She was at it like that, curiously observing the vegetables in her hands, unveiling an array of pots and pans and cooking utensils, and raising a curious brow at the cookbook on the counter. Ulquiorra forced himself to look away, and, covering himself with the blanket he'd been given, walked barefoot to the bathroom to wash up.
Clean and dry, he came back into the main room with only a towel around his lower half. He was about to check on his clothes by the fireplace, even though he knew there was slim chance they would be dried before the next morning, but then he saw something laid out on the futon he'd been using: an outfit, consisting of white pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
"They were my brother's," Orihime said from the kitchen. "Sorry if they're too big."
Ulquiorra slipped on the garments, discovering they were only a tad loose. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "They will do fine."
Moments later, Orihime announced that dinner was ready, serving the steaming hot dishes onto two plates that she laid out on the table. They sat and ate, studying each other, trying to keep the other from noticing.
Finally, Orihime decided to ask, "Where have you been? You said you go… places, but where do you go? What do you do?" It was a life unknown to her; she'd lived in the same apartment for the past twelve years, ever since her parents abandoned her and her brother. She couldn't imagine the insecurity of having no home to return to.
"I do my own thing," and that's all Ulquiorra was willing to say on the matter. His eyes told her it was something he didn't want to involve her in, and she reluctantly conceded to his silence.
He ended up staying until New Year's, helping out with the chores and keeping Orihime company. She didn't have a spare futon, so they slept together in hers. Nothing happened between them, but they kept each other warm, and, for them, that was enough.
The night after he left, she lay awake in her apartment, which suddenly felt too big for one person, and breathed in the scent of the futon, stained with the scent of him, and mourned the fact he was gone, likely to never return.
She was beyond surprised when, the next year, on Christmas Eve, she found him back at her doorstep.
He returned every year, sharing Christmases and New Years with her in the welcoming warmth of her home, until one year, when it wasn't just her awaiting him in that small apartment.
"Ulquiorra," she said at the door, and he sensed something different in her, like she was afraid, nervous. Normally, she'd open the door right up for him, welcoming him home as if it were an everyday occurrence, but this year, she seemed cautious, keeping it half-closed, and he knew something bad was about to befall him. Then he heard it: footsteps, approaching the door.
"Who is it, love?" a voice called from inside, and Ulquiorra instinctively froze. The door was opened fully then, and Ulquiorra saw the owner of the inquisitive voice: a man with glasses and smooth dark hair. "Oh, who's this?"
"Umm…" As Orihime struggled for a decent explanation, she looked to Ulquiorra, as if asking for help, and he read the emotions running like a slideshow in her eyes: panic, indecision, regret. "Um, he's…"
"Nobody," Ulquiorra said, and turned away, taking fast steps out of there, out of that woman's life.
No matter what he'd been telling himself, he'd fallen for that blasted illusion again. He'd let himself believe, for one shining moment, that he wasn't alone in this world.
He wished she had just let him die, freezing to death on a floor of snow, that first Christmas Eve.
Ulquiorra vowed never to go near that town again. And yet, the very next year, he found himself taking those exact same steps, up to Orihime's apartment. He couldn't justify what he was doing, even to himself, but he couldn't stop. Maybe, more than anything, he needed that little piece of hope, no matter how futile.
He knocked on her door, wondering what sights would greet him. Would there be a ring on her finger? Would her stomach be round and swollen? Would there already be another occupant, dressed in diapers and sleeping soundly in a crib? He filled himself with curiosity, to block out any other emotions that may try to sneak into the forefront of his mind.
After what felt like an eternity, the front door began to creak open, ever so slowly. And then, there she stood, alone and unchanged. Her eyes widened upon recognising her visitor, and her free hand reached to cover her mouth. His reappearance was obviously quite the shock, but by the looks of things, it was a pleasant surprise.
In that moment, every emotion Ulquiorra had kept so resiliently guarded broke loose, and he knew he wouldn't be able to push them back into a secure package again.
Things had to change.
Perhaps Orihime sensed this, too, as she pulled him inside and said, "Welcome back."
He looked around himself, flooded with memories and feelings of warmth, comfort. He realised he didn't want this for just a week each year; he wanted it every day, for the rest of his life.
He didn't know how this was going to work out, but he knew one thing. "I'm home."
Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's, everyone! Thanks for reading. And I'd love it if you'd review. Please? :3