Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
A/N: Proofread by only me, quite hastily, I might add. Please tell me if there's any mistake.
Close Proximity
It feels very strange to have him so close. She has never been this close to a boy before – not that he can actually be counted as a boy, he is a man and he's dead anyway so why does she care? If that's true, if she shouldn't be busy caring the least about sitting so close to a boy, no, a man – and a dead one at that – then why, exactly, does her heart beat so fast? Does her mind have an answer to that?
"Woman, your face is reddening. Do you require anything to cool yourself?"
How is she supposed to answer that question? It's evident that she's embarrassed and he doesn't even get it. And he has the nerve to call her stupid! She gulps and avoiding the icy gaze of his eyes, replies in a stammer.
"N-no, I'm f-fine. Really, I am. It's cold here, that's why I'm blushing! Brrr, see? It's really cold."
His eyebrows raise in question.
"I wasn't aware that humans had red faces when it is cold, they are supposed to blush when the temperature is above the tolerable point. Are you different than your kind in this manner as well, Inoue Orihime?"
She blinks in response; she has no coherent answer to offer him. Her eyes accidentally meet his, light grey clashing with vivid green and time stops for a moment.
"No. I'm not so different. Tha-this happens when we are cold, too." She whispers, her breath caught in her throat. He doesn't reply.
At first, she doesn't notice him leaning in so their noses are almost touching but when she does, her eyes don't widen or her body doesn't stiffen as they should. Instead, she finds that she relaxes against the close proximity of his cool form and the next question he asks doesn't unnerve her, though it should. It really should.
"If your friends come to get you, woman, will you leave with them or will you stay with Aizen-sama to serve him?"
Her answer is immediate:
"Of course I'll leave with them."
Rays of moonlight illuminate the room as she realizes it is the wrong answer, shadows play on his impassive face and the darkness wins against the light, leaving his features in a shady haze as he stands up and the odd warmth leaves her side.
"I see."
He turns to leave, yet cannot do so, for Orihime is grasping his wrist quite firmly for a human her size.
"What are you doing, woman?"
She has a hard time swallowing when he turns his face to hers. His eyes show coldness that can only be found in an ice storm and the daggers it throws at her ends up waking the nagging voice in her mind: "See, he does feel. You got him really mad now, Orihime, congrats. He's loyal to Aizen to a fault and you knew it and you blew it all up. Good job."
"Shut up," she hisses to herself, her face marred by the self-loathing tone of her voice. Fear clouds her vision. Fear for the silence and the darkness that will come to haunt her once he is gone, once she is alone, once- No, no, no, she cannot bear to think about it, no!
He, indifferent as always, frees his wrist from her grasp and moves to leave the room so he can be at peace without having to endure her antics but is stopped once again by her hold on his sleeve. This is getting ridiculous, he thinks and turns around to chastise her. To his dismay, he finds that he cannot do so. It is quite difficult to chastise someone when they are so close to you, although he has never been one to be bothered by close proximity before. She is shorter than him and her head barely reaches his chin so she has to lift her head to meet his gaze to form eye contact, as if it would change anything. Having eye contact with the Cuatro Espada is often creepy; his unbelievably impassive face gives her tremors and his equally blank but somehow intense gaze does nothing to comfort her. He purses his black lips and speaks while she is busy fighting off the urges that her body is having trouble resisting.
"... I asked you what you were doing a moment ago, woman. Answer me or the consequences-"
"Idon'twantyoutogo!"
"What?"
"I..." Orihime takes a deep breath and counts five chimpanzees jumping from tree to tree in her head as an attempt at calming down. "I said... I don't want you to go, that's what I said. I don't want to be alone."
There is silence for a moment. Then he opens his mouth to speak, and his eyes are narrowed – the first warning of his irritation increasing. She doesn't give him the chance.
"Look, it's too... too scary to be lonely, okay? You are the only one who actually spends time with me and I appreciate all you've done for me very much but I... I just can't do it, can't stay sane without someone by my side, so could you plea-please spend the night with me? W-wait, n-no, that didn't come out right! What I meant was that I, uh, I would be very glad if you could wait until I fell asleep before you leave me alone? P-please?"
It is pitiful and pathetic, she knows this – and for some unknown reason, she can't bring herself to care about it. She just can't. She fears loneliness and all the horrible thoughts it will bring to her mind too much to care. She has to cling to him, the only being that is honest with her, however brutally. She needs to trust someone and he is the best candidate in Hueco Mundo. He is chillingly cold, cryptic, keeps his words at a minimum which makes him her exact opposite; all in all, he's different. Different than all the rest of the Arrancars and Hollows alike. Besides, he probably isn't serving Aizen willingly, is he? He was probably forced into this job.
Yes, Orihime, sure, such a loyal minion is forced by Aizen to do his bidding. Very funny.
She commands the irritating little voice to shut up so she can keep on fantasizing and expanding her very own backstory for him, feeling guilty all the while.
Where was she? Yes, he was left no choice but to be Aizen's puppet. Maybe he was a prince before he died and became a Hollow. Out of his love for his country and his princess, yes, that's why he became a Hollow. That's a very legitimate reason. And he does resemble a prince, albeit a fallen one with his striking features: shoulder-length, very soft-looking locks of pitch-black; tall, lean and impressive body, the kind that would grace her sinful fantasies; low-pitched, inexplicably pleasant voice that ought to be giving her the creeps for sounding so monotone and dead instead of sending shivers down her spine; and vivid green eyes that bore holes into their target's skin. She is one hundred percent sure she cannot ever forget those haunting eyes. She is lucky if she doesn't start getting nightmares or other kinds of dreams about his eyes and his delici-
Smack!
"Ow," she winces at the pain she inflicted herself via a considerably harsh slap a moment ago. Her captor is merely watching, quite perplexed by her antics though his face doesn't show it. She inhales deeply, calling forth the courage she doesn't believe she possesses.
"So will you-?"
There is a curt nod and without knowing what the heck she is doing, she has her arms around him. She can feel him stiffen at the sudden change of the atmosphere, their interaction somehow took a wrong turn – mostly due to her illogical behaviour. And quite possibly, the lack of distance between their bodies is proving to be a huge discomfort on his side, while Orihime finds it to be relieving and secretly... exhalarating. He doesn't move or do anything to affect their positions, and she doesn't know how to explain the sudden surge of emotions that are passing through her veins (what would your friends think, Orihime?), so they remain in a one-sided, awkward hug for a moment until Cuatro Espada realizes what is happening and tears himself away from the human girl. The wretched human girl, he reminds himself just in case. He grabs her wrists with his hands and speaks in his usual monotone.
"Woman, come to your senses. Don't pull such childish acts again. Now proceed with your usual sleeping habits, I will wait until you are asleep and be gone when you are. Do not think this to be a favor, it is my duty to keep your mental and physical health intact as I'm bound by Aizen-sama's orders."
Orihime is frozen. He didn't react so badly now, did he? He didn't immediately leave and he is even willing to stay with her until she is asleep. And he sounds... His words almost feel like they are spoken out to convince himself, not her. What does this mean? She shakes her head to get herself out of her momentary confusion and replies.
"T-thank you, Ulquiorra-san. I will try my best." To do what, she doesn't say. She figures he already knows and if he doesn't, oh well, she doesn't have to tell him. He can interpret it however he chooses to. She waits obediently for him to let go of her hands and take his seat beside her bed so she can crawl into her bed.
He doesn't.
He is still holding her wrists, and gazing at her as if they are having some sort of staring competition. Orihime wants to speak so she doesn't become confused, so they can assume their roles once again: He, the captor and she, the captive. She cannot, though; perhaps due to the close proximity, perhaps because of something different. She doesn't know, she cannot think of a reason, he's leaning in, he's closing the space between their faces, she feels lightheaded, he has such pretty eyes, her pulse is getting abnormally faster, his face is so pale, her mouth is parting, he looks so cold but he is so warm, she closes the distance so their bodies (hers trembling and warm, his stony and cold) are in contact through the fabric of their equally white clothes, her eyes droop a bit, oh my god is he gonna kiss me-?
It's soft, and frustratingly short. He immediately stiffens and straightens his upper body to create more distance between them. Orihime's eyes are wide open; she cannot convince herself to believe what just happened. She doesn't know who kissed who first: Was it her or him? But the more important question is this: Why would this happen? Why would they-
"Sleep. Now."
His commanding voice pulls her out of her stupor. With a small, hesitant smile on her lips, she walks towards her bed and lets her weary body fall upon the soft cushions; the sweet slumber her body awaited immediately taking over her.
She doesn't feel the cold touch of his hand brushing her hair out of her face.
Nor does she feel the phantom of his kiss lingering on her lips.