Sunday is gloomy; my hours are slumber-less.
Grimmjow stared into the blackness above him, waiting for sleep to come and rescue him from his thoughts. He'd been laying here for hours, in the darkness of this room, and with each passing moment, his heartache grew.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
He felt as though the hole in his stomach was growing, overtaking him, and would continue to do so until he was nothing. He wished that were true... Ulquiorra was gone, so in his heart, he truly was nothing.
Little white flowers will never awaken you...
Tradition in the world of the living dictated that you bury your lost loved ones in the earth, laying flowers at their grave... which, to Grimmjow, seemed completely barbaric. Why submerge them in six feet of overturned soil? And what would flowers do? Neither would bring them back. Humans were stupid, he thought fleetingly.
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
He remembered vividly Yammy and Luppi carrying Ulquiorra's beaten, lifeless body into Las Noches, laying him at Lord Aizen's feet, Wonderweiss sitting next to his throne, drooling and staring into space. And he remembered the sorrow... the rage that bubbled inside him as he the watched the former Soul Reaper dismiss his Cuatro Espada's death like it was nothing. He didn't even ask the Inoue girl to try and heal him. He had been killed, and was no longer worth anyone's time. Damn Sosuke Aizen for being so heartless... And damn Ulquiorra for dying...
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
The Sexta Espada knew there was no way to bring his fallen comrade back. But Grimmjow could not fathom that he would never see him again. It seemed so wrong, when just the night before he had held the pale skinned Arrancar in his arms, looked into those beautiful emerald eyes, buried his face in that soft, ebony hair. He ran his hands through his pale blue hair, and writhed in his bed sheets. What was life without Ulquiorra? It was meaningless.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday...
A tear rolled down Grimmjow's face, and landed on his pillow. He had no use for a meaningless life. Slowly he began to unsheathe his ZanpakutÅ.
Sunday is gloomy; with shadows I spend it all.
The feeling of Pantera's hilt in his hand soothed him a great deal. It made him feel as though he had options. He didn't have to go on without Ulquiorra... If he were to take his own life, if he were to thrust Pantera through his chest, would it matter? Lord Aizen would overlook his death just as he had Ulquiorra's. The Espada would get a new Sexta, just as they got a new Cuatro. Everything would continue in on in the same way.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
That's just what he was going to do. He was going to put an end to his miserable, meaningless existence.
Soon, there'll be flowers, and prayers that are said, I know.
Grimmjow imagined two Espada carrying his body to lay at Aizen's feet, and their Lord ordering the immediate disposal of his body. Discarded, forgotten by all in Las Noches.
Let them not weep... let them know that I'm glad to go.
No one would cry for him, or even acknowledge his absence. They would carry on, killing the residents of Karakura, assisting in Sosuke's plans to kill the Soul Society's king. Their lives would continue after his had come to a close. Grimmjow smiled to himself; that was how he wanted it.
Death is no dream, for in death I'm caressing you.
He lifted the tip of Pantera's blade to his heart, glad that everything would be over soon. He knew that he would be with Ulquiorra again soon... He would be able to feel his icy, smooth skin; able to look into those emerald eyes; able to feel the tenderness of his kisses once again. A dam broke within him, and he was immediately flooded with happiness. They'd be together soon.
Grimmjow tightened his grip on his sword, and plunged Pantera deep into his chest.
With the last breath of my soul, I'll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday...
He felt a pool of warmth accumulating around him as his blood spilled onto his sheets, dripping onto the floor beneath him. He could feel his lungs tightening, and his vision fading as his life slowly left him.
"I love you, Ulquiorra," he sighed, as his final breath escaped his body.
Dreaming... I was only dreaming.
His eyes opened in a flash, his body covered in a sheen of cold sweat, and he immediately gasped for air, and gripped his chest. There was no wound, no blood, and no pain... just a cool presence in his arms. It was all a dream. He was alive. And so was...
I wake and I find you asleep in the deep of my heart, dear.
Ulquiorra's back was pressed against Grimmjow's chest, his pale, icy body wrapped tightly in his arms, breathing deeply as he slept. The blue haired Arrancar felt relief glowing within him, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he felt the need to watch the smaller man sleep. He looked so peaceful... and so alive.
"Ulquiorra," he whispered after several moments, nudging the dark haired Arrancar gently. Ulquiorra made a small noise of disapproval as he stirred.
"What is it, Grimmy?" he asked sleepily, slowly rolling over to his other side. As his bright green eyes came into Grimmjow's line of sight, he had no words, just a string of emotions stirring inside him. He laid staring down into his lover's confused face for a long time, before bringing their lips together, and squeezing the Cuatro Espada tightly.
Darling, I hope that my dream never haunted you.
"I had a bad dream, Ulquiorra..." he whispered, after pulling their lips apart. "Bad dream" was somewhat of an understatement, but he thought it best not to go into detail, lest he have to relive that horrid experience. Grimmjow stroked Ulquiorra's soft, midnight coloured hair, and ran his knuckles across his pale cheek.
"Well try not to worry about it too much, Grimmjow. Everything is okay." The emerald eyed Arrancar assured him as he nuzzled into the larger man's neck.
If only he knew... He would be shaken too. He hoped fleetingly that Ulquiorra never had to endure a dream such as that.
My heart is telling you how much I wanted you.
"I love you, Ulqui. Please... never leave me," Grimmjow hated the weakness evident in his voice, but couldn't seem to help it. He pulled the smaller man closer to him, so he could feel his warm breath on his chest.
"I love you too, Grimmy," he yawned, closing his eyes, and cuddling into the blue eyed Sexta Espada. "And don't worry; I'm going nowhere fast." Grimmjow felt the truth in Ulquiorra's words, and knew he had nothing to worry about. The only problem present in the future was their upcoming fight with the Soul Society... But there was not an Arrancar in Hueco Mundo that thought this posed a real threat...
Gloomy Sunday...