The Bittersweet Melody
It was an old piano. It was white, and the golden letters on it told the brand was Yamaha.
Ulquiorra sat down and gently laid his fingers on the petals. He started playing a simple melody, which brought back old memories.
"Here you are again, eh?"
"What do you care, trash? Go away."
The tall figure went away, leaving the short raven-haired man alone with his instrument.
A miserable sigh escaped the black-and-white lips.
It had been such a long time ago. Back then Ulquiorra hadn't been able to see anything else than his career.
No one listens to classic music anymore. No one goes to see his concerts. He had become a fallen star, the tabloids trying to find scandals from everywhere around him.
The pale man suddenly stopped playing the melody. The sun had set behind the huge windows of the living room. The deep blue curtains looked like they were black, so dark it was.
Ulquiorra walked across the room to turn on the lights. He was wearing a dark green polo-neck shirt and black jeans, his white feet bare. The black toenails looked like little olives.
The white walls of the living room were naked, no photos, no art, nothing. Only the walls were standing quietly. Actually, the room had nothing than Ulquiorra's piano and a wooden chair in it. In Ulquiorra's opinion TV was trash, just like many, many other things in life.
It was night, and Ulquiorra lay on his bed, not able to sleep. He had an interview on the radio next day, and he was a bit nervous, because talking was really not his best ability.
Next morning Ulquiorra left his huge lonely house early in the morning, and drove off with his black Audi.
The Kiss FM-radio station's studio was in a skyscraper with mirror-windows. Ulquiorra was escorted to the studio by a young woman with bright orange hair, after he had told his name at the information desk at the entrance.
The studio was far larger than the pale musician had expected, he'd have got lost if the orange haired woman wasn't there.
"So, mister Schiffer, welcome to Kiss FM! How are you today?"
Ulquiorra stared at the man interviewing him blankly. "I'm okay."
"I see, that's great", the man said faking a smile. "Our listeners have sent us a huge amount of questions for you, and I'm going to read some of them now, before we listen to some music."
The musician nodded and said to the microphone: "Very well."
"So, first question. This is from a girl, who comes from Berlin…Here we go! 'Dear Ulquiorra Schiffer, I would like to know if you know how much fans you have all over the world, because here in Berlin there's a fan club with almost million members."
Ulquiorra was slightly surprised that he had so many fans, because he really didn't play for the audience, even if the audience came only to listen to him, he played only for himself. For him, music was the only way he could express himself without being misunderstood.
"Well…" he started. " I don't really care how much fans I have, because I don't know them and they don't know the real me. I'm not interested in being famous, the music I play is more important."
The interviewer was in shock because of the famous pianist's answer.
Author's Note:
Hello, hello, everyone. It's been such a while since I last wrote some fanfiction. This is the first of five chapters of The Bittersweet Melody, please look forward to the next chapters! Grimmjow will make his apperance in the next chapter...