Title: Sinfonia de Utsuro: Act I: Gone Forever
Author: Yoshimara (slavetosuicide)
Rating: M
Pairing(s): Ukitake+Ulquiorra, GrimmjowxUlquiorra, GrimmjowxRenji
Warning(s): Songfic, AR, language, lemon, angst, possible OOC, shounen-ai, yaoi, violence, implied lemon, attempted suicide
Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach and its affiliates. Three Days Grace owns the lyrics. Yoshimara (slavetosuicide) owns the plot and all OCs (characters, plot, etc.).
Summary: "Because hearts aren't meant to be shattered. They're meant to be nurtured and loved so that they may blossom into something beautiful between lovers."
A/N: This is the first in the series "Sinfonia de Utsuro", and also a gift for Haltia. I hope this will do until her other story is up and running again! Thank you, sweetie, for the ideas and all the help you've given me!
Heat and pleasure soared to new heights with each thrust within him. Senses heightened to the point where it was almost painful, nerves on fire with every movement. It was getting hard to breathe and the black-haired former Fourth Espada moaned quietly, nails of his lovers' hand digging into his unnaturally pale hips harshly. The pain barely registered just like it always did for the last year since their "relationship" started.
They—being himself, Grimmjow, and Stark—had joined the shinigami shortly after Aizen fell. Despite being Arrancar, the were received albeit reluctantly. They were separated, each being placed in different squads once they were deemed a non-threat to the Sereitei. Stark joined the Eighth Squad, becoming fast friends with Shunsui-sama and annoyance to Ise-fukutaicho. Grimmjow fit right in with Kenpachi-taichos' division, doing weekly spars with the blood-lusting shinigami that usually had them supporting an audience. Ulquiorra was chosen by Kuchiki-sama, proving to be a silent companion in the office and a hard worker.
Glossy emerald eyes opened to look up at the blue-haired man above him, pounding mercilessly into him with a fervor not unlike his battle speed. The former Sixth Espada's face was flushed, sweat rolling over his muscular body, tousled hair wild from being handled by the younger fingers. He looked absolutely god-like, bright blue eyes boring into his own.
Ulquiorras' heart swelled as he saw the unbridled lust in those azure eyes and unconsciously licks his black lips. Panting breaths mingled with groans and growls as the hand on his hard member increased its pace. Another wave of pleasure rolled through him as his hips thrashed to meet the grisly pace Grimmjow set. His mind began to fog over, their releases beginning and he barely heard the words he muttered over the roar of his blood rushing through his ears and multi-colored spots dancing before his eyes.
"I love you, Grimmjow."
He didn't feel the hesitation of the older Espada's thrusts, only felt the pace speed up so fast that it felt like his entrance was burning. The nails digging into his skin bit harder until the faint scent of blood ran across his senses but the crash of his climax drowned everything out. Green eyes rolled back, back arching as drop after drop of sticky fluid landed over his stomach and chest with a low groan, even hotter fluid filling him within. The thrusts slowed and with a grunt, he was released to feel weight shifting next to him.
Ulquiorra knew his lover wasn't one to cuddle, but it puzzled him when the weight on the futon shifted quicker than normal. Wasn't he even going to catch his breath? Opening his eyes, he watched Grimmjow begin to dress in the customary black uniform, an angry scowl on his face. That wasn't right. Grimmjow always had a smirk on his face after their encounters, looking a lot like the cat that got the cream and the canary. But he looked as pissed as the day Kurosaki cost him his arm and rank.
Cautiously, the brunette sat up, ignoring the pain in his hips and pelvis at the motion and watched as the blue-haired man roughly slid his clothes on. Pure fury rolled out of his reiatsu and those bright eyes looked straight at him, the look in them struck something inside of the younger man.
He looked like he was going to murder him.
With his stoic mask in place, Ulquiorra rose an eyebrow minutely in question. His breathing and heartbeat had evened out, and it took him a moment to figure out why his lover was so upset, but when he realized what it was, he knew it was too late to fix it.
"Th' fuck was that bullshit, Ulquiorra?" Grimmjow snarled, straightening so that his muscular arms crossed his chest. He didn't get a chance to even think of a response before he was spoken to again, "What th' fuck did we agree on? Did ya forget th' rules, fucktard?"
He never forgot the rules. When they started their "relationship", Grimmjow made it clear that this was only physical. No strings attached, no commitments. Even one hint of emotion and it was "game over"—or that's how he put it. He knew what was expected and he had kept by those guidelines religiously. The anger and hatred rolling out of the others' reiatsu washed over him but the brunette gave no outward signs to noticing it.
"Jus' 'cos this ain't somethin' between you and yer precious 'Aizen-sama',"the former Sixth spat the name out like poison, including using his first and second finger for air quotes with one hand, "don't mean ya gotta break th' damn rules of th' game."
It hurt to hear his old lord's name from that mouth and the other knew it was a guilt trigger for the former Fourth. But he wasn't sure what hurt more; hearing about his old blind loyalty or the reminder of their interactions being just a game.
"Ya fuckin' agreed ta this, an' ya knew what'd happen if ya fucked up."
Grimmjow, now fully dressed, began to walk to the door. The pain grew in Ulquiorra's chest at the sight of his lovers' back. He wanted to scream, to plead for him to stay. But he knew that once the blue-haired man had his mind set that there was no stopping him.
But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.
"Grimmjow, I—."
"Shut the fuck up, Ulquiorra," his voice snapped loudly, interrupting the brunette and echoing in the small room followed by the angry flare of reiatsu. Blue eyes glared dangerously over a black clothed shoulder. They crinkled at the edges, the only sign of the cocky grin that was purely his. And when his grin was coupled with that raged reiatsu, things never bode well for anyone in a five-hundred mile radius.
"I don't fuck with trash," he growled, the last word mockingly emotionless and hollow, much like Ulquiorra's own tone. Grimmjow was out of the apartment before the brunette could blink.
What the hell just happened?
The agony in his chest grew as he sat, completely stunned, staring at the closed sliding door. Deafening silence surrounded him and it was almost a full five minutes before he tore his gaze away to look anywhere else but that dreadful door, those words finally sinking in.
'I don't fuck around with trash.'
The stoic brunette sat, naked, on the slightly damp futon that smelled of sex, blood, and Grimmjow, staring at the wall opposite of him in a daze. The pain dissipated as he reasoned that ending their "relationship" would be for the best. He didn't need the blue-haired man to survive. Quietly he dressed himself in the shinigami uniform that he had been given, except it was white with a black hakama-hibo(1) and it meshed nicely with his pale flesh. They originally gave him a black uniform.
Let's just say it didn't bode well.
'I don't need him,' the former Fourth thought as he finished getting dressed and changed the sheets before proceeding to his Division.
'I don't need him.'
Don't know what's going on
Don't know what went wrong
Hours turned to days and Ulquiorra went through his daily routines like clockwork. He diligently did his paperwork, and sometimes picked up Renji's slack. He helped some of the recruits—despite their dislike for being trained by an Arrancar, and even carried the extra workload of other teams in the Sixth Squad's patrol rotations.
And every night he waited faithfully in his sleeping quarters for Grimmjow to return.
The void within him grew slowly over time. With each passing night filled with empty thoughts and bitter memories, he waited. His reiatsu was calm, always calm and controlled while his emotionless green eyes stared into the dark night sky. Every hour was sleepless, ever watchful for that familiar blue hair and annoyingly handsome grin. But deep down something told him that it wasn't right.
He wasn't coming back...
But he kept waiting.
Feels like a hundred years—I
Still can't believe you're gone
Days turned into a week, each day passing without sleep. He used to be able to function without it for weeks at a time, but now that the life of Soul Society had crept into play, his body was spoiled. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
It certainly had nothing to do with seeing Grimmjow's retreating back over and over, nor was it the words he bit out that still stung when they echoed in his brain.
But that night he woke to tears threatening to fall, ice suffocating his lungs, and that expressionless mask chipped to show the hurt and self-loathing he felt. His throat clamped around the familiar name he was so used to calling out, he was only able to let out a tired whimper. Wide emerald eyes scanned the bedroom to find he was alone and the ice grew colder.
He was a fool to have voiced his emotions, especially since those words broke the terms they were so dead set on. The image of those blue eyes burning with a fury he hadn't seen in ages were etched into his brain, flashing every time he closed his eyes.
Sleep was impossible once more.
Ulquiorra rose out of his bed, the cool night air kissing his pale naked form, and moved toward the shower. Out of habit he glanced at his reflection in the mirror and was only slightly shocked at what he found.
Emerald eyes that were once vibrant were now dull and red-rimmed from the unshed tears. They were also bloodshot from the lack of rest. His normally bright white skin had an ashen tint to it, bringing the green tear tracks out more. The figure looking back at him had to be someone else, right? He was fine!
A flash of something vaguely resembling sorrow passed through his eyes, giving them the momentary chill they once held but it disappeared once more. Turning around, he flipped the water on and as steam began to build in the small room, he stepped into the water to cleanse the sweat, dirt, and anguish off of him. He barely took note of the rising sun through the tiny window in the bathroom.
Another sleepless night to add to the calendar, he decided.
But he was alright. He didn't need Grimmjow any more than he needed sleep.
So I'll stay up all night
With these bloodshot eyes
Ulquiorra knew halfway through his work day that he dreaded returning home. It was bad enough that every flash of blue he saw in the corner of his eye caused his heart to thud painfully. And when he'd turn to look, it would end up being some mundane belonging or a flash of Kidou. He mentally berated himself at the show of weakness. Although the office seemed to be a better alternative to his home.
He had spent hours yesterday cleaning, scrubbing, washing whatever he could get his hands on, only to find that as he slept his scent would return. It seemed that every room held one form or another of their contact. Every wall, table, and cushioned surface bore their taint. Sometimes during the night he could peer at a random spot in his tiny home and watch the scenes of the rough sex he partook in. It ended up leaving a foul taste in his mouth, his skin would feel dirty afterwards.
Shaking his head, the brunette focused on the work before him. He pushed the thoughts away to concentrate on his work, despite the hole in his chest aching for relief.
While all these walls surround me
With the story of our lives
That night he sat in bed, the starry sky mocking him in its beauty and freedom. Wide green eyes stared at the expanse horizon, the lodgings around him fading from his focus. His heart longed to see that familiar head of blue hair, that sinister smile on a chiseled jaw, or maybe feel just a tendril of that fiery reiatsu.
A slow melody echoed gently in the room, the beat of that similar to a lullaby. Ulquiorra shifted himself so a bare leg slid out from underneath the thin sheet pooled in his lap. With a slender arm, he hugged the limb to his chest loosely and let his guarded gaze roam over the small room.
It was barely furnished and to someone who didn't know the former Espada, they'd assume he suffered from OCD or held no interests what-so-ever. What they wouldn't think of was how frequently he scrubbed each surface until his fingers bled, how the scents continued to linger and taunt him—even in his demented dreams.
The small music player—a strange "peace offering" gift from Kurosaki—sat on the floor by his futon. He remembered how the teen was explaining to him the wonders of music, even with the scowl on his face, while the brunette was patrolling the real world. The substitute shinigami thought it was ridiculous that he knew nothing of the art. So, in a way of forgiveness and acquaintanceship he gave him the small device—'mp3 player' he recalled—and a set of small speakers, including music that Ichigo thought would be of interest. This song in particular always intrigued him. The words spoke of loneliness and insanity.
He could relate.
I feel so—much better
Now that you're gone forever
His eyes trailed back to the window at the sound of a breeze drifting by, carrying the scent of fresh air and serenity in its wake. Countless nights he remembered came rushing back at him and the sinking feeling in his chest made itself aware again. Emotionless eyes stared blankly as he kept one train of thought repeating itself over and over in his head.
'I'm alright. I don't need him. I'm alright...'
The night dragged on until the dawn's light urged him to dress.
I tell myself—that I don't miss you at all
Two weeks later had him walking towards the Twelfth Division, a neat and thin pile of papers in his hands. He never really understood why everyone was afraid of Kurotsutchi-taicho. In the former Fourths' opinion, the man seemed more tame than that pink-headed Szyael. His footsteps were light, barely making any sound as they moved along the pavement. It didn't even cross his mind that the buildings to the side housed the Eleventh Division.
A familiar reiatsu pulled his attention enough to make him stop. Emotionless green eyes scanned his surroundings without the movement of his head, muscles tense in anticipation. His heart leapt into his throat as he immediately recognized the signature. Where was it coming from? Turning his head so that he could see a little better, he focused solely on that sensation, following it until his eyes fell to the source.
Two figured stood huddled against a wall on one of the back buildings, heads bent as they conversed quietly to themselves. Even though he couldn't hear their voices Ulquiorra knew them on sight, but the suddenness of it all was almost like a heart attack. Wild blue hair tossed to perfection stood out like a homing beacon to the brunette.
Grimmjow stood to the side but hovered in front of the other figure, his arm bracing itself against the wall. He wore that same deviously seductive smirk that always brought the younger to his knees, but it wasn't aimed at him. He was leaning in close to the others' handsome face, the stark red hair tied back seemed to compliment the azure hues of his comrade.
Abarai Renji stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, head bowed slightly as his lips moved when he spoke. The fukutaicho's back rested against the stone wall behind him with one foot braced on it, leaving him in a casual pose. His lips were curved into a smirk that mirrored the Espada's as those broad shoulders shook with laughter.
Ulquiorra didn't notice his hands balling into tight fists, or the startling sound of crumpling paper.
But those azure eyes slid up at the sound, not moving any other body part as they bore straight into emerald, and everything around the stoic-faced Espada faded into nothingness. The same eyes that have haunted him for countless nights were in front of him, the lust in them apparent, but were deemed untouchable. His heart skipped a beat as he witnessed their movements, despite the speed that must have slowed down just to torment them.
I'm not lying—denying
That I feel so much better now
A vague flare of reiatsu was the only sign Ulquiorra got before he watched the result. Grimmjow moved fast enough to almost confuse the brunette, but that wasn't what made the former Fourths' eyes widen minutely, or the silent gasp to erupt in his throat. The void in him screamed at the chill that spread at what he witnessed, wanting to tear him apart.
Grimmjow had Renji pinned against the wall, lips locked in a heated domineering kiss that obviously had the shinigami reeling.
He wanted to cry, let the agony flow in destruction and fury. He craved the shadows to hide his heart as it bled while watching them.
'Doushite?' was all the brunette thought, fighting the urge to sonido over to them and rip them apart to claim those lips once more.
It took a bit of extra effort to keep his own reiatsu in check as he turned around briskly, hakama swishing with the snappy movement. He had to leave before he gave into the urge that seemed so tempting—but to give in would make him more like trash.
With every footstep away from the couple, his chest ached with a feeling unlike any other. Why? Why as it hard to breathe? How could he let this happen? Even as he strode away, papers wadded tightly in his pale grasp, he couldn't help but wonder what bothered him more...
The image of the former Sixth kissing someone else, or the sadistically smug grin aimed at him beforehand?
That you're gone forever
As he strode away, Ulquiorra didn't let go of the mental mantra that played like a broken record in his head. Despite the internal storm that ran amok, his wide green eyes and pale face remained passive. Only the minute glint of a brewing trouble would have been a hint, but it was quick enough to be missed if one wasn't looking for it.
"Ulquiorra-san!"
The sound of a friendly voice jerked him out of his thoughts, green eyes looking up from their gaze at the ground. He was met with the surprised face of a white-haired man with light brown eyes. The white haori was long-sleeved and flowed around his lithe form. His face relaxed into a warm smile.
"Ukitake-sama," Ulquiorra said quietly but politely, offering a low bow, his black hair falling like a curtain over his face. When he stood upright, he felt the void in his chest shift uncomfortably, making his brow twitch barely.
"Daijoubu desu ka?"
"Daijoubu, Ukitake-sama." His reply was instantaneous and monotone, just like always.
Ukitake furrowed his brow slightly before placing a hand on the former Fourths' shoulder.
"I don't expect you to trust my words, but if you need anything—anything at all, don't hesitate to call upon me."
Green eyes wavered behind their shields before hardening into some kind of focus. The Thirteenth Division taicho didn't need to know what was wrong. No one did. He nodded once, face as passive as ever.
"Wakarimashita, Ukitake-sama."
"Take care of yourself," and with a final smile and warm squeeze to his slender shoulder, the pale taicho left the brunette to his own devices. Green eyes flickered to the crumbled papers in his now trembling grasp and he suddenly remembered his reason for coming out this far.
He didn't bother analyzing the lingering warmth and tingling sensation crawling over his shoulder.
Now things are coming clear
And I don't need you here
Two months having come and gone, and Ulquiorra was in the middle of handing out Renji's documents that he had finished to patrol leaders. The red-head had tried to argue with him about the amount of work the emerald-eyed man had accomplished but all the silent man said on the matter was that it wasn't an act of kindness, it was a way to relieve boredom. Fortunately the fukutaicho just dropped the subject, mumbling under his breath about overworking brunettes.
Their superior only looked on with an expression of disinterest, but those steel eyes watched everyday how the amount of work the former Fourth did increased with time to the point where it almost looked as if he were drowning in papers when the Noble would appear in the office in the morning. He also silently noticed how exhausted the brunette was, but never commented.
But it was this day that Byakuya kept an extra studious eye on him. Something was wrong with the Arrancar, he could tell but as to what it was, he wasn't sure. No one would purposely overwhelm themselves with work like Ulquiorra did without a plausible reason. The Noble wasn't known for his compassion towards his subordinates, yet this puzzle was nagging him. And he rather enjoyed puzzles...
Ulquiorra was finishing up delivering the squad schedules when a recruit grudgingly stalked over to him and—none too nicely—informed him that Kuchiki-taicho had requested his presence. Fear shot down the brunettes' spine, but he masked it behind his passive face, walking with purpose towards the office. Did Kuchiki-sama want to get rid of him as well? He didn't think he could take much more of this! Arriving quickly, he knocked quietly on the door before entering.
The stoic taicho was bent over his own paperwork and at the sound of the door latching closed, his steel gaze lifted to Ulquiorra's approaching figure. The Espada's usually pale face was haggard-looking almost, the bags underneath those bright eyes prominent. Even the jade tear tracks were faded, like make-up worn for too long. In short, the former Fourth looked like Hueco Mundo was hit by the Kidou Cannon.
Both men were in for a shock as a few quiet steps towards the desk led to the unthinkable.
The green-eyed man tripped over his own two feet.
He had been slightly preoccupied in his own thoughts; mix that with the lack of proper rest and nutrition—he hadn't eaten much more than a small helping of rice twice a day for the last month or so—it was bound to happen. Luckily, he stumbled just enough to teeter his balance but not so much to make him topple over. He ended up catching himself with less grace than he normally carried, but he stood upright to meet the startled gaze of his superior.
'This is ridiculous,' the younger brunette thought as he stopped a few feet in front of the desk, staying silent long enough for his boss to slide his "Noble pride" expression into place. When those steel eyes relaxed to their normal gracefully slender form, he spoke up.
"You wished to see me, Kuchiki-sama?" Ulquiorra inquired, ignoring his physical slip up as he folded his hands behind his back to hide the tremors that began to overtake them.
"Yes. I merely wished to ask about your duties," Byakuya's tone was calm and collected, showing no sign that he wished to comment on the trip, his fingers idly shifting a stack of papers before him. "I've noticed that you've been doing enough work for a whole patrol team. I also noticed that you appear—for lack of a better choice of words—like utter hell."
Ulquiorra said nothing to this as he really wasn't sure how to explain his actions. The lack of sleep, the waiting, the nightmares—God, the nightmares! Surely he would go insane if this kept up. Yet, he knew no one would be partial in listening to his problems.
He was slowly becoming what he detested most; trash.
"Forgive me if I am out of line," the Noble continued, his quiet tone laced with a hint of concern, "but is everything well?"
The green-eyed man hesitated in answering. Surely his superior didn't really want to hear about his woes? Maybe it was just politeness in asking—yes, that had to be it. He might as well be somewhat truthful. Lying by omission couldn't be considered a danger, could it?
"I—haven't been sleeping well, Kuchiki-sama. I apologize if my excessive work has crossed any borders." When the tear-faced man spoke, his voice sounded more detached than normal—even to himself. Hopefully the other wouldn't notice.
The silence that pressed forth was loud, but neither man let their gaze drop. For a moment, the emerald eyed man thought that his superior would question him further.
But Byakuya just blinked, as if collecting his thoughts and storing them away, and nodded once, "If that is the case, then I suggest you to take the rest of the day off and sleep."
Ulquiorra bowed his head, knowing that arguing with him would prove pointless. Even if he did sleep, it wouldn't help his cause.
"Hai, Kuchiki-sama."
And in this world around me
I'm glad you disappeared
'Jus' 'cos this ain't somethin' between you and yer precious 'Aizen-sama' don't mean ya gotta break th' damn rules of th' game.'
'What?'
'I don't fuck around with trash.'
'I'm not trash. I—just lost my perception.'
It had been close to half a year since that horrible afternoon and he was slowly diving into insanity. Those dreams—the ones filled with images he didn't ever want to see, feelings he didn't ever want to experience again.
And seeing that spectacle a couple of weeks ago...
He wished that the terrors before then would return.
The imagery of Grimmjow, half-naked, pinning an equally dressed Renji against a wall near the Sixth Division barracks had burned itself deep in his memory. The former Fourth could map that delicious body with his eyes closed. But seeing him like that...
Something within him cracked.
The personal mantra he build up for himself began to falter, the words feeling more like lies every time they were uttered. With each 'I don't need him' he began to wonder if it wasn't true. He surely wasn't doing alright without the man. Even with the 'I'm alright' he'd random think made him second guess himself—something he'd never done before and it didn't make him feel any better about his situation.
All of the shinigami that looked at him wore expressions of distaste. He knew he wasn't welcome, even if he'd been living there for this long. Other than the Division Leaders, who only conversed with him if absolutely necessary, there was no one left. Stark never stayed awake long enough to really know what was going on, and Grimmjow...
It was this train of thought that left Ulquiorra's mind confused as to the reason why he was in this particular scene. He remembered Shunsui-sama approaching him on his way back to that cell of an apartment. Even though he tried to deny the cheerful man, he had been dragged to a rather cozy looking sake house. Crowds of shinigami were seated at the tables and they were currently seated at one in the back.
With every drink forced upon him, he kept silent. The liquid burned his throat at first, but the pale brunette just ignored it. He knew what alcohol could do, and only trash drank their sorrows away. His lips barely twitched at that thought before hiding behind his sake cup.
He was falling apart without any glue for repairs.
"So, Ulquiorra-kun," the brown-haired leader said politely, earning a sideways glance from the Arrancar, "would you be so kind as to tell me what has been bothering you?"
They had been there for at least a couple of hours, and the pale man's cheeks were faintly flushed from the stimulating liquid, his thoughts fuzzing over. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling—if anything, he welcomed it for it was a change of sensation. The ever-present emotion of self-loathing and alienation had ebbed away into the dark recesses of his mind, leaving behind a mind-numbing hum. When he looked at the cheerful leader, he tried to keep his silence and take refuge behind his passive features. But despite the stoic mask that presented itself, his wide eyes were full of so many things—not a single one of them positive.
This proved it. Alcohol was not for the fragile-hearted.
'Why would this shinigami care?' Ulquiorra thought, eyes searching for any ill intent in those light colored eyes. But...
"Why would you concern yourself, Shunsui-sama?" he asked quietly, almost defensively as he downed another cup of sake.
"Why wouldn't I?" Shunsui countered, downing his own cup and only continued speaking after he refilled both of their glasses, "To be honest, I'm worried. You don't look all that well, like something's haunting you. Byakuya-kun, Jyuushiro-chan, and I were discussing it at lunch the other day."
Ulquiorra's green eyes narrowed in an attempt to glare at the older man when he heard this little tidbit of information, but it must not have worked since Shunsui frowned. Stupid alcohol...
"The three of us are concerned, Ulquiorra-kun. I understand if you don't want to talk, but you don't have to shoulder the hurt alone."
The cup paused halfway to those black lips as those words ran through his befuddled mind. Why did he want so much to believe in those words? How much did this man already know? He couldn't possibly know anything, could he? His green eyes lowered to the table in thought, cup still poised in the air. He took a small breath, trying to decide through the haze of his alcohol-clouded mind. Those pleading eyes were so sincere, so trusting. Shunsui-sama never lied, he knew.
Oh, why the hell not? He was going insane keeping all of this locked up inside.
"I—."
So I'll stay out all night
Get drunk and fuckin' fight
"Oi! Schiffer!" The voice came from right next to him, loud enough to make his ears ring.
'Damn it. Now what?'
Snapping his mouth shut, both brunettes turned their attention towards the shinigami that called out to him. A bald guy with a shit-eating grin on his face stood next to the pale man, sake bottle gripped in one hand while the other sat on his hip haughtily. This guy was obviously drunk, but where did Ulquiorra recognize him from?
'Oh. Eleventh Squad. Madarame Ikkaku,' his fuzzy brain supplied.
Grimmjow's Division.
Thinking of the blue-haired man made the disoriented state of his mind clear up quickly, his mood darkening once again. His green eyes hardened to shield the pain away from the outside world.
"Where's yer lovesick kitten? He leave ya 'er somethin'?" Ikkaku asked smugly, his words slurring dangerously close together enough to make it hard to comprehend.
But the former Fourth understood his statement perfectly; after all—he did live with Gin for quite some time. Ulquiorra stiffened, green eyes widening a fraction as the misery that clouded his mind slowly began to scorch. The hand holding the sake cup trembled slightly and he set it down before he dropped it.
Who did this piece of trash think he was? Ikkaku's grin turned mischievous as he leaned forward to watch the Arrancar slowly fall apart. His breath reeked of alcohol and whatever mess he ate for dinner earlier in the evening; possibly garlic and other strong spices.
But the brunette just did behind his mask of indifference as Shunsui said quietly, "Ne, Ikkaku-kun. Why—?"
"What possessed a piece of trash like you to be in my affairs?" Ulquiorra interrupted nonchalantly but his words were laced with venom, secretly glad that his voice didn't waver. The anguish within was turning into fury. How could this guy stand there, jeering at him with those beady eyes, and think he could say such things?
"Trash like me, eh?" the bald fighter's grin turned sadistic, "I'll show ya trash, ya fuckin' freak!"
Pain shot through his cheek, head whipping to the side with enough force to overbalance the brunette, knocking him to the floor. Of course, it didn't help that he wasn't thinking right in the first place. His hollow mask bounced off of the wooden floor with a thick sound, making him twitch but otherwise he stayed put. He felt his anger begin to rise, despite the calm demeanor of his expression.
Green eyes slide to stare into the cocky grin of Ikkaku, expression hidden by the black locks that fell over his eyes. The noise level of the room quieted as Ulquiorra rose to his feet slowly. The taste of blood went ignored, the pain diminishing to a dull throb as his regenerative properties kicked in subconsciously. The anger grew as he stared right into Ikkaku's eyes, his own darkening with his emotions.
How dare he touch him! He could hear the undertones of whatever Shunsui was trying to say to diffuse the situation but it was lost when the former Fourth rose one hand and pointed his index finger lazily at the bald shinigami.
His mind was clouded with rage and anguish, images of his nightmares returning tenfold in shutters. Blue and red melded together in swirls of sweat and blood. He didn't hear the protests around him or feel the emerald energy building at his fingertip. All he could hear were the taunts and jeers from everyone in the vicinity, and he could feel his self-control pulling taut so tight that it was on the verge of snapping. A voice in his ear that sounded suspiciously like Grimmjow screamed for him to punish this piece of trash.
A hand on his arm brought Ulquiorra out of his momentary craze, eyes sliding to the side to see Shunsui holding his elbow gently. The look on the older man's face was one of many expressions rolled into one; concern, fear, sadness. The former Fourth stared into those eyes, the anger and hurt making itself known as he began to tremble. The powerful Cero diminished itself to nothing, his hand falling to his side.
"Ne, Ulquiorra-kun. It'll be alright," the taicho whispered, lips curving into a kind smile. "I know there's something wrong, but don't ruin all of your self-control progress on him."
Ulquiorra lowered his gaze, closing his eyes as he slowly took a deep breath.
'Shunsui-sama's right. I'm—not like I used to be. The sake probably didn't help either,' he thought, trying to reign in his feelings. He needed to get out of here; he needed to go somewhere—.
"Tch, Grimmjow's right. Yer a fuckin' pussy!"
Emerald eyes snapped open and before anyone could say or do anything, a pale hand tightened into a fist and lashed out, connecting with his strength and a slight reiatsu boost underneath Ikkaku's jaw. The force of the blow threw the bald man clear across the room and knocked him against the wall with a sickening crack and a grunt.
Without another word, Ulquiorra turned and left, the crowd that had gathered moving out of his way. As soon as he reached the door, he sonido'd away from the sake house and the calling of his name from Shunsui. He knew he would be in trouble for that little spat, but for now he could wait until things had calmed down before facing anyone.
And that brought him on top of the Sokyoku Hill. As he stood on the sacred execution grounds, the images returned full force with the warm breeze. He fell to his knees, the statue-esque mask cracking a little more to expose the torment he felt in those large emerald pools.
Grimmjow kissing Renji, Grimmjow biting Renji's shoulder, Grimmjow fucking Renji into the wall...all the while grinning at Ulquiorra with smugness and pride at having broken the usually collected Espada. The bastard knew what he was doing, knew that any living being would grow attached after all they had done together. But he still went through with it.
But Grimmjow wasn't the only one to blame; Ulquiorra played his part as well.
Green eyes slowly looked out towards the horizon, overlooking the large city with its twinkling lanterns and quiet night activity. Daylight was quickly approaching—he must have spent all night with Shunsui—and he realized one thing.
He had become trash, and trash served no place in the world.
Until the morning comes—I'll
Forget about our life
Deciding it would be best to go home, he sonido'd across the rooftops. When he entered the dark apartment, he blindly stripped himself of his clothes, clouded mind not caring about the trail of cloth behind him. His pale muscular body collapsed on top of the futon heavily, a harsh sigh escaping his black lips. He barely covered his naked form with the sheet when a wave of fatigue washed over him.
Wide green eyes were lidded, glimmering with unshed tears. The sound of the whispering wind blew across the small window that bled with the gentle moonlight. He was tired—so tired of the pain, the loneliness, the nothingness.
"I don't need you, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," he whispered weakly, the words sounding flat as darkness claimed him, throwing him into their realm once more.
I feel so—much better
Now that you're gone forever
'I don't fuck with trash.'
Ulquiorra snapped his eyes open, cheeks flushed and skin dampened with sweat as he sat up. It was still dark outside as he took a deep breath to calm himself. Another nightmare. When will it end?
With a resigned sigh, the brunette showered and dressed. His thoughts raced loudly as he walked towards the Sixth Division, the early morning light just barely revealing itself in the sky. The silence only served as fuel for his dark thoughts and the glares he received while he passed the night patrol didn't help either.
He barely remembered the night before, but judging by the not-so-quiet whispers he had attacked Ikkaku. There weren't any mentions of being provoked. He should probably talk with Shunsui-sama to figure out the truth.
When he stepped into the office, he was surprised to see Byakuya sitting at his desk already filing paperwork. Steel eyes looked up at the sound of the opening door and widened in surprise at the image of a ghastly Ulquiorra standing in the threshold. They stared in silence, trying to determine what the other was doing there so late.
"Sumemasen, Kuchiki-sama," the pale man said quietly, bowing his head and eyes dropping to the floor, "I don't meant to disturb you."
"Iie, you're fine," Byakuya replied, returning to work. Just as Ulquiorra had taken his seat to work on the small pile of leftover documents, his superior spoke up once more. "There's some freshly made tea if you would like some."
The pale man didn't reply, instead as he wrote in perfectly shaped handwriting his mind began to wander.
I tell myself—that I don't miss you at all
He went from being content and disinterested to upset and intrigued in the span of days. He hated how everyone's eyes were accusing and full of an emotion he couldn't understand. But he knew, as he sat there finishing paperwork with the quiet sounds of the ink brushes and quiet breathing that the answer was right there.
In order to end this, he had to be cleansed.
I'm not lying—denying
That I feel so much better now
It was cowardly, he knew, but not for trash such as he. For these past months he had been falling deeper and deeper into the depths of insanity, his heart on the verge of melting. He knew love was a rough topic for his kind, but it obviously wasn't impossible to experience.
The one person that knew how he worked and didn't judge him was a complete lie. But...
'If you need anything—anything at all, do not hesitate to call upon me.'
'...I'm worried...Byakuya-kun and Jyuushiro-chan were discussing it at lunch the other day...'
'The three of us are concerned, Ulquiorra-kun.'
'Forgive me if I am out of line, but is everything well?'
But if Grimmjow's affections were a lie, did everything else have to be? If it was true, then was there any other way?
Green eyes slid over to the other desk in the room where his superior sat proudly, slender face emotionless as the Noble worked. A strange thought crossed the Arrancar's mind and it caused his black painted lips to curl downwards.
'Would anyone mourn for me?'
Now that you're gone forever
A quick sliver of pain ran across his fingertip and those eyes looked down. A tiny dot of crimson bled on the corner of the paper in his hand while it began to well upon his flesh, standing out against the stark whiteness. He blinked owlishly and brought the digit closer to his eyes, inspecting the wound as if it were something he had never seen before. The tiny paper cut had hurt, more than expected but he kept his features still. As his healing factors took effect, he couldn't help but stiffen, series of ideas rushing forth.
Was it really that simple?
First time you screamed at me
I should have made you leave
Two weeks had the pale brunette standing on the execution grounds, wide eyes overlooking the city below him. The arms of his old Arrancar uniform jacket felt constricting after having to hide it away for so long, the thin fabric rubbing against the marred skin underneath it. The pain served as a mental reminder while the wounds themselves served as a physical reminder of the anger, the loneliness, the failure...
Ulquiorra sat in his empty apartment, his bleached uniform laying on the floor a few feet away from him. One pale hand held his zanpakuto, gleaming blade poised beautifully over his right wrist. Wide green eyes stared unseeing, the shine of the sunlight on the blade reflecting in them dangerously as the hum emitting from the blade held many tones in it he didn't want to understand.
The edge dug into his flesh, pain running sweetly through his nerves with each bite of metal. With each slash, the humming grew louder and sharper, as if protesting to the actions. But all he could see were those blue eyes glaring to kill and that mocking grin. He could only hear the maniacal laughter and those hateful words that cut deeper than any edge. The images and audio kept coming in waves unmercifully. No sounds were uttered from him, but he felt the strength in his wound arm weakening.
'One more,' he thought and just as the blade made to cut, a wild flare of reiatsu bathed him harshly. With a startled gasp, he dropped his weapon, the sound of clanging metal against wood rang out into the air. The mental images subsided, his mind coming clear once more as he he stared at the blood covered zanpakuto in awe. The waves of a hard emotion radiated from it that slowly began to lessen as he dropped both of his arms into his lap.
His mind was blank, emerald eyes wavering as the agony of his wounds began to numb. He only whispered one thing before stopping the blood flow with his regenerative properties, but not making the wounds disappear, "You're right. This is lower than trash. Have I really fallen that far?"
I should have known it could be so much better
Slowly, the former Fourth lowered himself to a crouch, wrists resting on his knees. Eyes shifted to look down at his limbs, knowing what he'd find. The sleeves of the jacket had ridden up a few inches, exposing scabbed slashes—almost ten of them in a line from his wrist to his elbow—angry and irritated. Proof of his weakness, his failure...
I hope you're missing me
I hope I've made you see
The brunette absently ran his fingers over the wounds, the sting in the motion a refreshing contrast to the serenity of his surroundings. His eyes slid closed slowly, the soft breeze brushing against his skin.
That I'm gone forever
"Ulquiorra-san," a familiar voice cut through the wind, making his eyes snap open to look over his shoulder cautiously. "I've been looking for you everywhere."
Ukitake strode up to stand a few feet behind the former Fourth, long white hair swaying gently in the wind. His soft brown eyes held the reflection of the mid-afternoon light, giving them a rather good looking shine of happiness.
Hiding his wounds by twisting his wrist so it lay against his knee, the warm breeze died away to a stand still, letting the heat from the sun resume its blanket on the world below it. Cautiously, Ukitake took the remaining steps forward to bring him to the Espada's right side.
"What can I do for you, Ukitake-sama?" the brunette asked softly, his tone not giving evidence to his turmoil.
"I was hoping to have lunch with you today, but Byakuya-kun said today was your day off," the taicho said pleasantly, his attention facing the horizon, "although it is a little late for that now. Perhaps you would be interested in dinner, then? Later, of course."
The brunette didn't reply, only taking his eyes away from the one beside him to look at the small buildings below the cliffs' edge. Moments passed in silence and he could feel the other's gaze turned back to him.
"May I ask why you wear such long sleeves in this warm weather, Ulquiorra-san? You're not sick, are you?" the older man asked, concern lacing his tone with the second question.
"You—could say that," Ulquiorra answered quietly, dropping his gaze to his hands. The sounds of rustling cloth whispered beside him and in the corner of his eye he saw the hesitant hand of the other reach out to him. Why he didn't shy away, he didn't know. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the hand rested gently on his wounded wrist, dragging an involuntary hiss from his black lips and a flinch in his shoulders. But he didn't bring his gaze up, nor did he break the contact.
"Daijoubu, Ulquiorra-san?"
"Aa," was all he said. When he finally got the will to try and move his arm, he pulled it gently in a way to get the other man to let go. But as he moved, pain raced up his arm and he heard the startled gasp making ice form in his heart. He didn't want Ukitake-sama to see them, but he didn't struggle when slender but gentle fingers dragged the cloth to his elbow, exposing the horrifying sight on his flesh. He wanted to hide, to lock himself away from peering eyes.
"Doushite?"
Why did he sound so upset? He didn't want to look, but it seemed that his mind and his body weren't communicating and found that he was looking at the white-haired man. The man's brown eyes stared at the wounds, wide and full of sadness that the show had died away to be paired with concern. Their eyes met and a foreign feeling crept up the brunette's spine when he realized that the Thirteenth Division leader was expecting an answer.
"I—am trash. Trash doesn't deserve a place in the world," Ulquiorra said in a defeated tone, wide eyes slowly becoming unguarded. Now that he had admitted it—there was no turning back, was there?
"No, you're not. Why—?"
"Kill me," Ulquiorra whispered, not caring if he sounded like he was begging. If it came down to it, he would sink to his knees in front of this man to gain the salvation he so desperately needed. "I—can't live like this. I've spent my existence believing trash to be exactly that—but if this is what I am, then—."
"No."
Green eyes snapped up at the harsh negative to see Ukitake's face blank, but his lips were set in a thin line and his brown eyes were hard. Something twisted in the former Fourths' gut at that expression; something hinting that he didn't like that look. He preferred the smiles and kind words to this.
"You aren't trash. I don't understand how you could think that about yourself. You're not alone, either; you have people who care. Why would you let them suffer with being left behind due to your death?"
'People—care?'
"Would you enjoy their tears? I know for a fact that I would mourn your passing," the last was whispered sadly, causing his face to show the hurt the sick man felt at the horrible idea.
"But without him, I have nothing. And to have nothing it to become trash," was the brunette's reply, his shoulders beginning to tremble.
And now it's coming clear
That I don't need you here
The warmth of the hand on his wounded arm moved to the shoulder, the pain lessening at the loss of contact. Ulquiorra's eyes began to sting, sight blurring as the tears returned. He couldn't hold them back this time if he wanted to. The idea of other people caring for him seemed so absurd! But...
Something within him shattered and that emotionless mask fell away, revealing the anguish that longed to be set free in those wide green eyes. The tears that finally fell after all those months of being locked away followed the set path of those teal streaks down his cheeks, sliding past his jawline and down his neck in slow droplets. He didn't deserve the kindness he was receiving from him, couldn't Ukitake-sama see that?
He wanted to tell the older man to leave him be, to let him wallow in his sorrows in peace; but when he opened his mouth to speak, but he was shocked when the words that flowed weren't ones of denial. His hands tightened into fists as he retold his life to the older man beside him.
Aizen's reign, being used as a puppet, hating everything around him as a result. The reactions of the shinigami when they became refugees, the hard work he put forth only to be shunned by everyone but the Division Leaders. It all came tumbling out of his black lips in his quiet tone, as if the tears that fell weren't playing their part down the teal streaks.
His breath hitched as he started confessing about Grimmjow, and he had to pause in mid-sentence randomly to gather his thoughts and control his voice to keep it from quivering with emotion. He confided in the white-haired man of how their "relationship"; the rules and how it started, how he was indifferent to the nightly visits and the pain of the rough activity that usually left him bleeding or very sore come morning.
The brunette didn't know when exactly the rules were broken, but he knew eventually that he had fallen for the former Sixth and when those dreadful words fell from his lips, his world crumbled.
Arms snaked around his quaking shoulders, a tender hand gently stroking his hollow mask soothingly. Closing his eyes, he felt a small rush of comfort from the embrace and he found it a little easier as he continued to tell his thoughts from the past few months.
And in this world around me
I'm glad you disappeared
He shifted so that he was sitting directly on the ground, one leg stretched out to relieve the stress on his ankle and knee while the other was bent, his wounded arm wrapping loosely around it in a relaxing gesture. The turmoil within him was fading to be basked in the warmth and security those arms presented. After what felt like hours, the Arrancar grew silent, aching eyes staring at the dirt beneath him. Despite the comfort, he felt empty for once. No emotions raging wars in his heart for dominance and it felt rather good; the silence that spread into the air was somewhere between peaceful and terrifying.
Would the older man hate him with all that had been said? A sudden wave of fear crushed him at the thought of being judged once more, but those arms never left him. If anything, they grew faintly tighter as the quiet kept on.
I feel so—much better
Now that you're gone forever
I tell myself—that I don't miss you at all
"Ulquiorra-san," the soft voice was kind and consoling as it caressed his ear, "it'll be alright. You're not alone—not anymore. I don't care what you are, you've made an effort towards redemption that has been accepted."
Green eyes lifted to the sky, watching the clouds roll by blindly. The hand on his helmet didn't falter when he asked, "Why? Why are you so kind to me?"
I'm not lying—denying
That I feel so much better now
That you're gone forever
"You deserve as much compassion as anyone else," Ukitake replied gently, moving so one arm was around the smaller man's shoulders, his other arm resting in his lap. When Ulquiorra looked over at him, he was surprised to see that small smile on his lips but it was gentle, any trace of the earlier discontent no where to be found.
He very much liked this expression. It suited him better.
"I'm willing to be the one to give you that compassion," he continued, "because hearts aren't meant to be shattered. They're meant to be nurtured and loved so they may blossom into something beautiful between lovers and friends."
Something inside Ulquiorra's mind clicked as those words passed through his ears. It was true. He had witnessed such expression of emotion between Aizen and Gin when no one else was around, or when Kurosaki and Hisagi would talk but their actions would linger if they touched. Just like when Ukitake-sama and Shunsui-sama would talk while walking through the Divisions, both men holding so much tenderness in their gazes.
Could he ever have something like that?
And now you're gone forever
"It will be a long recovery," Ukitake's voice brought him out of his thoughts and he focused on the white-haired man once more, "but I will be glad to be there for you. Shunsui-kun and Byakuya-kun will help as well, I'm sure of it."
Green eyes looked back over to the buildings again, a sense of eerie calm washing over him. After a moment, he brought a pale hand contrasted with black nails up to rest on the hand clasping his shoulder. His eyes were clear as he nodded vaguely.
"Arigato, Ukitake-sama."
And now you're gone forever
0o0
(1): the belt on the shinigami uniform
A/N: :wipes her brow and sighs exasperatedly: Whew! This one was a monster! Not as bad as the Chains series, but still. Handwritten it came out to be almost 38 pages! Typed up it came to a total of 19 pages And yes, you read it right in the beginning. This will be part of a "saga". I figure since "Redemption" is being picky, I'd let Haltia have this little collection. I don't know how many parts there will be to it, but they'll take the forms of oneshot/songfics so be on the look out for those.
Also, I apologize profusely if it's OOC in any parts. This is my first Bleach fic not using Byakuya/Renji/Ichigo/Shirosaki/Grimmjow as main characters. I want to thank you all in advance for your reviews and for reading the fic. If you have any questions just send me a message! Keep an eye out for the next installment of the "Sinfonia de Utsuro" which is Spanish and Japanese mix for "Symphony of the Hollow" (at least, a rough translation).
Oh! One more thing...uncommon pairings are awesome!