Grey
Grimmjow x Ulquiorra
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Warning:
Angstangstangst, OOCness, AU, emoness, suicide.
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Grimmjow gripped either side of his head, releasing a frustrated scream. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears stream down his face. It was like floodgates had been released.
Why?
What was wrong with him?
It was too late. It was far too late now. Why, why, why, why?
The tears continued to fall.
He collapsed on his bed, sobbing dryly.
His throat was parched and his voice hoarse. He could say no more.
It was incredibly painful, watching everything that had happened. Why could he never say it? Why did he always hesitate?
And, now, it was too late.
He would never be able to say what he needed to.
He would never be able to say what he needed to to the person he needed to say it to the most.
Why did his words stutter every time? Why could they never leave his mouth eloquently?
Ulquiorra did that to him, rendered him speechless. Simple things like hand gestures and even the slightest glance from Ulquiorra drove him wild.
Those green eyes of his broke through every defense he had and challenged his sanity and peace of mind.
Just thinking of him made Grimmjow cry harder.
It was too much; just too much. He couldn't even fully grasp the situation.
He was gone – dead.
Was it even possible?
How could Ulquiorra have died?
It just...
He refused to believe that it had happened.
He had seen Ulquiorra on the respirator. He had heard the erratic beeping of the heart monitor. He had seen the medical staff rush to aid him, defibrillator in hand. He had seen the certificate that pronounced Ulquiorra dead. He had seen his body buried. He had been there at the funeral.
So why?
Why was it so hard to believe?
Why couldn't he believe that Ulquiorra's heart would never beat again; that Ulquiorra would never smile again – even if he had only ever seen him smile once?
Because he hadn't been able to tell him that he loved him.
It was just too much to take in at once.
He could not control himself enough to refrain from another anguished cry.
His throat burned painfully.
It just couldn't be happening.
He hadn't told him yet. He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Ulquiorra how much he loved him.
He hadn't been able to tell Ulquiorra how much his awkward, barely noticeable, tentative smiles had meant to him.
He hadn't told Ulquiorra how warm he really was despite how cold he looked.
He hadn't told Ulquiorra how beautiful he was and that his green eyes captured Grimmjow's heart entirely.
He hadn't told him all of that yet – and so much more.
And he needed to.
So Ulquiorra couldn't die.
He just couldn't be dead yet.
There was so much that needed to happen. There was so much that hadn't happened yet. There was no way that Ulquiorra could have died.
It just wasn't possible.
Not when Grimmjow needed to tell him that he loved him.
Grimmjow buried his head into his pillow, thinking of Ulquiorra. Everything was about Ulquiorra.
He couldn't take it anymore.
From his bedside table, he removed the pocketknife from his drawer.
He saw black.
The End.
Author's Note: I wanted to write a sad ending for once. Sue me. I was listening to "Trip" by Hedley (at least, I think that's the name of the song...) while writing this because I am very emo.