Weeeell... it's kind of been a while since I posted anything. I've had aaaall sorts of ideas for things to write, but there just hasn't been time because medical school sucks like that. Le shock of the century! Anyway, something about taking a bit of a break from the fandom let my love for Ulquihime get kick-started again, and I decided that I really really needed to finish this fic (which I think I started over a year ago now...). I don't know what it is about having absolutely no time to spend on creative endeavors that suddenly makes the Muse think "oh, yeah... we should totes write now! 8D" but that seems to be how it works.
So! I feel like my writing has been really rusty, and I wasn't able to comb through this as obsessively as I would like, and I'm kind of concerned that there might be weird format things, buuuut I hope that it'll still be an enjoyable read nonetheless!
Orihime tried to keep her eyes focused on the upper corner of the car as the train sped along the track, hoping that she looked oblivious to the hushed conversation and blatant stares from the group of young salarymen by the door. As she read over the advertisement pasted above the window, she wished again that the shinigami who been in charge of returning her to the world of the living had actually taken her home.
The train stopped and Orihime let out a sigh as the men disembarked. It wasn't that going home by herself bothered her. The shinigami had asked her if it was alright to drop her off a little bit away from her apartment; that way he could easily take both her and Chad back at the same time. It had been an understandable request, and she had been more than happy to be agreeable, but the consequences of having to take the train had not occurred to her until now.
So she found herself dressed up to an extent far beyond what she had done for Seijin no Hi a couple years ago, but this time she was the only one so attired. After having dealt with the attention her hair color brought for so many years she was at least somewhat used to this sort of scrutiny, but the concentrated volume of it that had occurred in just one evening was putting her on edge.
It really was an unfortunate turn of events to end her night in this manner. There had not been many occasions for her to dress up recently, and the whole process that morning had been exciting. Rangiku-san had spent a great deal of time helping her, which, honestly, might have been a rather generous explanation for the way she completely commandeered Orihime's attempts to dress. She had done her hair and makeup and glared any time Orihime tried to speak about how she could take care of that part herself, and then had gone on to arrange her furisode.
That had certainly been a helpful service; Orihime had never taken kitsuke classes, and the thought of trying to have everything in place in Soul Society – for a wedding, no less – had been daunting. Still, as she tried her best to hurry out of the train as it reached her station, she now wished she had taken the time to change back into some of the casual, functional clothes she had brought with her to Soul Society.
But it was okay. In the crisp autumn air, the layers of fabric wrapped around her were warm, and in the quiet of the evening she enjoyed the swish of the silk as she walked. Besides, she had not wanted to impose upon her hosts any longer than necessary; while there had been no room for discussion that those who had been invited from the world of the living would be staying at the Kuchiki manor, Orihime had a feeling that trying to host their group would be a bit taxing to the usual peace of the household.
Releasing a heavy sigh that fogged in the cold, Orihime allowed herself to be honest. It was true in part that she had not wanted to overstay her welcome, but the greater force that had made her wish to return home was simply that the whole situation had been… strange. It had been years since her love for Kurosaki-kun had waned to the warmth one held for a dear friend and with it any jealousy she had of Kuchiki-san had been able to recede from her admiration, but that did not prevent Orihime from feeling an odd slide of emotion when she had watched their wedding.
It had been a beautiful ceremony, and the two of them had been more expressive with their feelings than any other occasion she could remember. It had made her happy to see their joy when they had exited the pavilion, and she could truly and honestly wish them the very best with no heaviness in her heart. But it was nonetheless a bizarre thing to physically see the dream she had once envisioned for herself happen for another woman.
She smiled at herself as she dug the keys from her bag. Perhaps this, the fact that there was no lingering trace of love still hidden within her heart, was truly a sign that she had gained some maturity in the years since the winter war. That chapter of her life was now officially closed.
Finally at her door, she lifted her head to the lock and was surprised to find the door slightly ajar. After staring at it for a moment, Orihime slowly pushed it open and looked inside, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness as she felt her imagination slide into full gear. Pulling her bag back to throw at the possible intruder – what if it was one of those boys from down the street who kept leering at her when she went to the store, or a spy trying to look for evidence of her powers, or a man who had spent years in the solitude of the wild learning to become a ninja only to snap when reintroduced to society? – she then jumped, to the best of her abilities, into the apartment.
And found Ulquiorra standing in the dim light of the kitchen holding a pile of mail.
Blinking at him as they stared at one another, Orihime became painfully aware of the battle stance she had tried to adopt when one of his brows rose a fraction. As the sudden and unavoidable wave of embarrassment washed over her, she relaxed her arms back to her sides and straightened up. She brushed a hand absentmindedly across the front of her furisode, flattening seams as her eyes slid to the side. "I see… that you brought the mail in," she said lamely.
"Yes. As you requested."
"Yes."
Silence wrapped the room, touched with the first flickers of awkwardness. Of course it was only Ulquiorra. A few nights ago, she had asked him to watch her apartment for the weekend while she was out of town, and he had agreed to bring in her mail and feed her fish. She didn't know why she had not thought of something so obvious, but as she turned to shut the door she figured that it was probably the obviousness that kept her from realizing it.
"Did you enjoy your time away?"
Orihime's fingers lingered against the lock, feeling a touch of a smile creep upon her lips; Ulquiorra was attempting to make small talk. After a number of years of practice, he was at least passable in this skill during most social situations, but she could still remember the numerous instances where she had stared at him in mortification for some of the things he said without preamble to people.
Flicking on the light and turning back to him, she grinned and nodded. "It was great!" The unease was splintered apart with each word, the atmosphere instantly lightening. After all the time she had spent with him, and all the admittedly stupid things she had done in his presence, this situation was hardly anything. "I got to spend a lot of time with Rangiku-san, which was nice since I had not been able to see her as much after everybody scattered for college and she hasn't been able to make good excuses to come here. And then with all the things for the wedding, I got to see a lot of other people I hadn't been able to talk to for a long time. That was a little awkward sometimes, but it was mostly very fun!"
Ulquiorra nodded slightly and set the mail down before exiting the kitchen. "I am glad that it was satisfactory," he said when he stood in front of her before raising his hand. "Here are your keys. I will return to my apartment now."
Mimicking his gesture, Orihime lifted her upturned palm and let him drop the keys into it. A second slowly slid by as he walked past her, and she could feel the frantic speeding of her thoughts as she tried to think of a way to get him to stay.
There had not been too many opportunities to see him during that school year. It was her last year at university, and it seemed that at least half of her time was spent in some part of the application process in the hopes of obtaining a job by the time she graduated. The other half was spent on homework that she had to neglect from focusing on those applications and interviews, and that left any possibility of visiting with Ulquiorra nearly impossible.
Which had made her really sad. If she was completely honest, she had to admit to feeling some sort of connection to him almost from the beginning, not long after she had arrived in Las Noches. Of course, that connection had not always been something positive to her; it had initially been a sort of dependence on seeing another individual in the gradual slide of time, of having some figure to break up the white walls and white furniture and white light that filled the space of her cell. But questions and actions that had followed had changed the nature of that connection, and when she had looked down into his eyes as they opened for the first time after she had brought him back, she knew that there would be something special there, something that nobody would understand.
Except for him. At first she had not been sure if her actions had impacted him, but he had opened to her in ways she had not expected. It had not been all at once, but as months passed, she had been able to catch the fragments of information he would reveal to her. Perhaps even more significant, however, had been the way he acted toward her, how he responded to the thoughts and feelings she had slowly revealed to him in turn. There was less derision toward her emotions, less skepticism, and sometimes she could catch a softness in his eyes that had never been there before, and she felt that it would have been impossible if he had not been able to understand those things she had tried to explain to him so long ago.
Regardless of what he had come to realize upon the dome, however, there had still been a lot for him to learn when he had come to the world of the living. He had a measure of patience where she was concerned, but at first he had been indifferent to cold with all others. That had been a large part of the reason why she had been allowed to help him acclimate to his new life there when she had asked to be able to do so. All of her nakama had initially balked at the idea – even Chad, with his quiet disposition, had voiced some reservations about such an arrangement. But Orihime had been certain that, somehow, she was the one who should do it. It wasn't from some feeling of obligation, or strangely placed pity. It was just that it felt appropriate that she continue what she had started when she had accepted his curiosity.
So he had been set up in an apartment complex a few minutes from hers, and during her free time she had introduced the world to him. Sometimes she would hazard to bring him with her when she went places with the rest of her nakama, and while it was incredibly uncomfortable at first, with time there had been a sort of grudging acceptance of his presence.
Still, such group outings had become increasing rare, and she usually found that it was just the two of them. She had tried to get him to do as many things as possible, going new places, trying new foods, taking part in new activities; one time she had even dragged him to karaoke, and she had laughed until she cried when he held the microphone to his lips and tonelessly demanded – over the overly enthusiastic bubbling of a pop song – that she explain the purpose of the activity.
Inevitably, she ran out of ideas for new things to try. Yet instead of finding herself at a loss on what to do around him once this occurred, Orihime discovered that the routine simply altered itself. A couple times a month, she'd pick up some snacks from the conbini and stop at the video store by the station to rent a movie for them to watch. Usually she'd find herself lying out on the floor of his apartment working on homework, or talking about various things, or just sitting with him in the silence. But regardless of what they were doing, she always felt comfortable with him. Happy.
So perhaps it had not been surprising that sometimes, in those quiet moments, she found herself wondering what she really thought of him. It made something strange twist in her stomach when she had considered it for the first time, watching him serve the food they had bought from the yakitori stall onto their plates as they sat on the floor of his living room. She had always wanted something like this, this sort of peacefulness, simplicity. Everything she had felt for Kurosaki-kun had been so difficult and painful, but being around Ulquiorra was nothing like that. He was blunt to the point of rudeness on many occasions, and was so unwilling to partake in social pleasantries that outings with him often involved embarrassment, and she could debate with him until she was blue in the face and make no progress in changing his judgments. Yet it seemed that they meshed together in ways that she would never have predicted, so that somehow they balanced each other out.
After she had made that realization, that perhaps there was something worth pursuing between them, she had felt like she noticed things in all their interactions. Eventually, she had to force herself to reign in that imagination she had always felt so proud of; Ulquiorra had made no indication that he had any interests of that nature, and she was certainly not going to push the issue at the expense of their friendship. She had grown enough that she could make that decision and be truly at peace with it, without the longing that had marked her feelings for Kurosaki-kun.
And she honestly had not been bothered by it. It had been at least a year since then, and it was not something that lingered upon her thoughts every time she was able to see him. She even dated a boy who was in the same program as her back in April when classes had started again, but they had ultimately realized that there was nothing between them a couple months later. The point was that she would not allow herself to be stuck the way she had been with Kurosaki-kun; this time she was determined to continue to look forward and take whatever new opportunities life presented her.
That it did not bother her to leave things the way they were was what she tried to tell herself, anyway, and she believed it most of the time. It was just in certain situations, like now with him walking out of her apartment after she had not had a decent conversation with him in weeks, that she admitted to a sliver of doubt in her resolve.
Caught between leaping forward and allowing her feet to remain planted where she stood, Orihime finally managed to rush to the door and grab the edge of his sleeve. Ulquiorra paused before throwing her a glance laced with questions.
"Please stay a bit. I'll make tea, if you can give me a minute to get changed, and then we could chat…?"
For a period of time that could not have been more than the space of a heartbeat, the pause before he finally inclined his head seemed almost infinite. Beaming, she backed into the apartment as he followed her, closing the door behind him.
As she went into the kitchen to let the water start heating, she did not need to tell him to make himself comfortable; he took up his usual place on the couch wordlessly. She put the water on the stove before digging around the cupboard. "How has your weekend been?" she asked as she glowered at the shelf, struggling on her tiptoes to raise her hand high enough to reach the cups. She really had not appreciated just how constricted she was.
"Unremarkable," he replied. "I took another shift today so that a coworker could go on vacation with his family."
Finally grabbing the cups, Orihime set them down and then leaned over the counter, making sure that she could catch Ulquiorra's eyes as she smiled. "That was nice of you."
"That was not my intent," he said dryly, but she continued grinning. "It simply seemed pointless to deny his request. I had no pressing matters to attend to."
"Oh, of course that was enough of a reason." She stepped out of the kitchen and walked to the hall leading to her bedroom, still grinning. "You can deny it all you want, but you've turned into a complete softie."
His voice carried as she reached her room. "You're delusional."
Orihime laughed as she began undoing the knot of the obi-age, but soon her attention was focused on the task at hand. She couldn't figure out how Rangiku-san had done something so complex in the short amount of time she had worked; simply undoing the elaborate folding and knots of the obi-age was puzzling, and even when it was untied, she couldn't feel the obi shift at all. Brow furrowed, she moved to the obi-jime – which didn't seem any less complicated – and managed to get it undone in a minute or so.
But nothing moved.
Confused by how this was even possible, Orihime proceeded to try to contort her arms behind her to reach the stupid thing. Had there been ties that she had not seen? Maybe there were some accessories to make it more stable that she couldn't feel? Regardless of what angle she attempted to approach the obi from, none of them let her grasp enough of the fabric to make a difference, and even when she simply grabbed the front and pulled, it only managed to make her feel slightly claustrophobic.
"Are you still working, or did you manage to distract yourself?" Ulquiorra asked from the other room. "The water is already boiling."
"Uh, yeah, I'm still trying! It's just a little bit difficult…"
Looking around her room, Orihime snatched the ruler from her school bag and then turned toward her mirror. Desperately, she tried to jab the ruler at the ornate knots of the obi, but the plastic simply bent against the sturdy fabric. She let her hand fall to her side, the ruler still wedged in the obi, and sighed heavily.
Giving up at that point, she shuffled back into the main room, wondering how she would manage to sleep in such a confining outfit since it was clearly not coming off at the moment. What if she could never get it off? Her thoughts sped ahead of her, imagining all sorts of scenarios with her still stuck in that furisode as she turned to go into the kitchen.
"I thought you were going to change."
Pausing, Orihime looked at Ulquiorra over her shoulder. "I wanted to. I guess I'm just kind of stuck." Laughing wearily, she shrugged. "Maybe it'll work itself loose after a while, but I'm okay for the moment. It's not really worth the effort."
She was about to turn back to the kitchen when Ulquiorra rose. There was the slightest touch of exasperation in his eyes as he approached her, hands buried in the pockets of his suit. "Turn around."
Orihime blinked once, twice, three times before she was finally able to connect his words to his intentions. Instantly, she could feel the blush start at her throat and begin its inevitable march to her face. "That's not really necessary," she assured, waving a hand. "I think Rangiku-san did something ridiculous back there, so I wouldn't want to make you deal with it."
"Your discomfort in continuing to wear that is obvious," he said, staring down at her. "It would be foolish for you to deny it, so the most reasonable course of action is to allow me to undo it so that you may dress in something else."
His gaze was steady as she turned over his offer, twining her fingers together as she gradually allowed herself to accept that everything he had said was true; the only thing holding her back was the thought that she would technically be getting undressed. By a man. By Ulquiorra. But because it was Ulquiorra, it was ridiculous for her to feel self-conscious in that way; his offer was not made to take advantage of her. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her head and turned around.
Instantly there was the pressure of his movements as he inspected the obi. The ruler was tossed to the floor, and she fought a groan at the thought of how ridiculous that must have looked to him. "This is complicated," Ulquiorra said quietly after a moment, and some of Orihime's unease lifted at this opportunity to fill the silence.
"You're telling me! She should have just done the simple tie and been done with it. I don't know what the point was for her to go overboard like this."
"She probably knew that it would be flattering on you," he said casually.
She grew still for a moment. "You… think so? I always thought that traditional dress made me, I don't know… I just thought it never looked right because of… ah…"
She fumbled for a way to explain herself without having to outright say what she thought, but either Ulquiorra could sense her discomfort or else he simply grew tired of her mumbling. "You are wrong. As with whatever you choose to wear, your appearance is more than satisfactory."
"More than satisfactory…?"
He did not reply immediately, pulling at the obi so that she could tell some progress was being made. "Because of the sentiments that such a word can carry, I am reluctant to say 'beautiful', but if phrasing myself that way would be more transparent to you, then I will use it."
For a moment, Orihime turned this comment over in her mind, sifting for the fact tucked quietly within the precision of his words. The heat that had never truly retreated from her features continued to linger. He thought she was beautiful.
There was silence now as he worked. Orihime was overly aware of his nearness, of the warmth of his hands through the layers of silk when he slid them beneath the obi, of the pressure of his fingers as they swept from the swell of her hips to the small of her back. It was so close, intimate somehow; she could feel the stirring of the hair at the nape of her neck when he exhaled.
She was grateful that her back was turned so that she could at least attempt to hide her reactions to him. It embarrassed her that while his movements were so steady and measured, clearly intent on nothing more than the goal of unraveling the obi, she was standing there with a burning face and stuttering heart, wondering in the back of her mind what it would be like if he had touched her simply because he wanted to.
The impulse to pull her hands up to her face was almost overwhelming; she wished that she could cover her cheeks, press the warmth from her skin so that it wouldn't give her away if he looked at her. She did not want to have to try explaining away her discomfort, not when they were alone and he was so adept at noticing her lies. In the past, if he realized that she had not been completely honest or had covered her feelings, sooner or later he would question her until he discovered the truth.
"How was the ceremony?"
Orihime could not imagine what provoked him to speak now, but she tried desperately to think of an answer around the distraction of his hands, one now firmly gripping her hip to hold her steady as he works. "It was lovely. Everybody looked really happy."
There was a beat of silence, and then, quietly, "Were you?"
She frowned, confused enough by this statement that she managed to ignore the way his hand slipped up along her stomach to reach an edge of the obi. "Why wouldn't I be? It was nice to see them finally together; everybody knew it had been coming for years."
The obi suddenly loosened around her, and she lifted her hands to keep it from falling. Yet it only took a moment for her to realize that it was not going to fall. It was already being held.
"Even though it was Kurosaki's wedding."
Instantly, Orihime realized that Ulquiorra knew; he knew the feelings she had harbored for Kurosaki-kun. While this might have embarrassed her in the past, having her emotions so easily read, the years that had passed were enough for her to realize how obvious her feelings had been, even if they had been invisible to the one for whom they were felt. Ulquiorra had always been so perceptive – of course he would have taken note of the way she acted around Kurosaki-kun.
But while all of that made sense, the comment still felt off. From anybody else, she would have suspected that it was a query to find out if she was okay, to make sure that she had not simply been trying to put on a brave face while secretly dealing with her pain. Ulquiorra would not have approached the issue that way if such had been his intent. He was too blunt, too straight-forward; he simply would have asked.
Besides, the tone had been all wrong. Learning to read him was an ongoing process; he still held onto his indifferent façade the majority of the time, and one had to really pay attention to the subtle changes to catch what he was feeling. She figured that was the reason so many of her nakama could not understand how she spent so much time with him; they simply had not expended the same energy to try to understand him.
So while she could not guess what he was feeling all the time, she had been around him long enough that she could catch most things. And when he had spoken, the note of bitterness had not escaped her notice.
Slowly, she turned around to face him. He still held the obi in his hands, and his eyes met hers with a veiled intensity that almost made the reply balanced upon her tongue disappear. Absently, she licked her lips and cleared her throat, gaze sliding to the side so that she could focus. "Yes, even though it was Kurosaki-kun's wedding. I mean, it would have hurt at one point, when I was younger. It's been a long time since I thought of him that way."
For a long moment he was motionless and silent, the quiet only filled with the rustle of the fabric in his hands as his fists tightened. "You do not love him."
"No." It was awkward to talk about this, but there were just some times when the only way to get through to Ulquiorra was to be as blunt as he was. And judging by the flicker of emotion that crossed his features when she managed to look up at him again, she knew that her words had sunk in.
She would have tried to ask her own questions now, about why he even wanted to know, and why he had sounded so irritated, but she was realizing that they were a bit too close, had been looking at each other a little too long. But hadn't they sometimes been so closely packed together on the train that she had been forced to lean against him? Or when she had needed to teach him how to make the knot on his tie for work, hadn't she stood this near to him? And when she tried to get over the fence to retrieve a baseball for some neighboring kids, hadn't he lifted her?
So why was standing like this next to him now so different?
The intensity in his eyes was too much; her heart was pounding so that she was sure it would be visible through the layers of cloth wrapped around her, and she could feel the warmth in her cheeks so keenly that there was no hope that he would not notice. With him looking at her like that, she needed to move away now if she wished to keep him from discovering her feelings simply from her reactions.
Hurrying, she took a step back, meaning to break away quickly, but forgot that Ulquiorra still held the obi. She instinctively reached out to steady herself as her momentum was thrown off, but in the same moment she found herself pulled into his arms as he leaned down to kiss her.
His lips were softer than she had thought they would be. She tried to think of something more meaningful, something that would help her process whether this was really happening and what it meant and why it was occurring, but her thoughts had been turned into a fluttery mess at the slow, insistent movement of his lips.
But responding did not require thinking. She didn't have to consider it to know that it felt nice, the way he kissed her. There was something possessive about it, needy, that made a shiver run up her spine; it mirrored what she felt within herself, those desires she believed would never be reciprocated. Yet here he was, kissing her with a growing intensity that had her holding on to him as desperately as he held on to her.
The vague thought, that perhaps he felt at least somewhat like she did, struck fire in her veins. When his lips parted slightly, she could feel her breath catch even as she mimicked the action and allowed him to deepen the kiss. Every movement seemed to push her shock into the background, quieting the chaotic flurry of questions that had first crowded her mind. His true reasons for doing this could be answered later.
His reasons.
It was an effort to fight through the weight of her desires; she knew that she had tried to ignore what she felt, but had not realized their depths until the moment she had to force them away. Her hands, trapped against his chest, pushed with as much strength as she could as she pulled away, the break in contact allowing her to start regaining both her breath and her thoughts.
When her heart was not hammering quite so quickly, she managed to reluctantly look up at him. She felt vulnerable, having so easily returned the kiss when she had no idea what it meant to him, and attempted to brace herself to see the usual indifference upon his face. Yet as she scanned his features, taking in the draw of his brow and the flickering of his eyes, all she saw was poorly concealed surprise and confusion.
"Why?" she breathed.
He blinked at her, his hands still holding her close. She felt the deep breath he took and watched as he closed away his emotions, tucking them back somewhere inside himself where she could not see. "It was a lapse in judgment. Forget that it happened."
"Forget that it happened?" she echoed, feeling a flare of annoyance burn through all the thoughts that had filled her mind like cotton. Her fingers closed into fists that she pushed harder against him. "You kissed me!"
"If you want an apology, I will provide it."
Orihime could not remember the last time she had been so exasperated, although she guessed that it had been his fault then as well; he had a way of pushing her into feelings that few others did. "I'm not sorry that it happened, so I don't want an apology!" she said tightly, her frustration making her speak more boldly than she would have otherwise. Irritated, she reached down and grabbed at his hands, trying to dislodge them from their grip on her. "The only thing I want is to know why! You make everything so difficult."
"Orihime."
"What?" she snapped, finally giving up on making his hands move and looking at him owlishly.
He studied her for a long moment, and she met his gaze squarely while waiting for him to continue. "If I told you it was because I wanted to, what would you say?"
Although she had already figured as much – he rarely did things he did not want to do without incredible amounts of prodding – something about the statement hinted to things unsaid. She took a breath, hoping she wouldn't blush again, and pressed further. "And why would you want to kiss me?"
"Do you intend to make me say something so obvious?" he replied as he finally released her, but his tone was soft.
Crossing her arms tightly, Orihime bent her head; if she kept looking at him, she knew the wild flare of hope would completely overcome her. She did not want any misunderstandings though. If she was going to reveal everything, then he would have to do the same. "If it was so obvious, I wouldn't have to ask."
"Why do you think I have remained with you for all this time?"
She considered the question. "I suppose… I thought you had nowhere else to go." Pushing a loose strand of hair from her face, she shrugged lightly. "I would have liked to think that perhaps you enjoyed my company. That maybe the reason you stayed here for so long was because you valued our… friendship," she ended lamely, feeling the word fall awkwardly between them.
"Do you think that I would have stayed here, under the restricting conditions that have been demanded of me, merely for that?" Without even knowing what she wanted to say, Orihime opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. "Perhaps that was enough in the beginning, but friendship is not what I have wanted from you for some years now."
So. There it was. Her heart, already put through the wringer from everything that evening, gave a fitful flutter. It was too much to try to absorb all at once; in the course of how many minutes had everything she had believed about his feelings for her been turned upside down? "But you never said anything."
"I believed you still harbored feelings for Kurosaki."
"Why would you think that?" she wondered. Perhaps it would have made sense years ago, when she first knew Ulquiorra and still held the flickering remains of those romantic feelings. Yet had it not been obvious that she had relinquished those feelings long ago? "I mean, I have dated other boys… why would I do that if I still hoped my feelings for him would be returned?"
"I have overheard people discussing how one should get over somebody they formerly had some attachment to. The recommendation seemed to be that they find somebody else," he explained, as though this were obvious. "I assumed, therefore, that you were attempting something of that nature. I found that it could possibly explain why those relationships were not of an extended nature."
"Why wouldn't you think that I had already moved on?"
He was quiet for a long moment now, and there was a hesitance there, a sort of weighing of his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "You said five lifetimes."
Orihime did not know what she had expected him to say, but to hear those words, something she had thought was a secret known only to her, had never occurred to her. At first all she could feel was stunned, but this slowly melted away as it sank back into the memories from which it had come. It had been so long since she had even thought of that promise, but she could remember the circumstances.
For the first time in the conversation, she felt the touch of a smile pull at her lips. "Ulquiorra… I was sixteen," she said. "When I left, I thought that it would probably be the last time I would see him… I can't even explain all the emotions I was feeling that night. Everything just seemed so much more vivid then." She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, before raising a hand up to his cheek. "But I've grown up."
There was a beat of silence before he replied. "What about those boys you dated?"
Somehow, she found that she could now laugh. "Well, I guess some of your logic was correct, at least recently. I suppose I was trying to get over my feelings for someone."
"Who?" he asked in a tone that barely concealed the demand behind it.
It would have been so easy to throw his words about something being obvious back in his face, but Orihime was tired. They had apparently eluded being honest with each other, and probably themselves, and she was done with continuing in that manner. Her fingers settled more firmly against his cheek. "You."
Again, she was given that flash of unguarded emotion in his eyes. His lips parted slightly, and she felt the blush again paint her cheeks as she realized that his silence was not from a lack of willingness to reply but simply a lack of words. Still smiling, she took a careful step toward him again before tucking her face against the crook of his neck, breathing in the subtle scent that had become so familiar to her as his.
It was a long moment before he moved, arms slowly encircling her waist and cautiously drawing her closer. She was quite willing to close the distance that still existed between them, content in the warmth and careful security of his arms. "How long?" he asked eventually, tone still distant with what must have been disbelief, although it was difficult to identify such a thing being associated with him.
"Hmm… about a year now, I think," she said against his throat.
"A year." She nodded slightly and waited in the thoughtful silence; she had enough to think about as well. "So all that time was pointless."
A little laugh bubbled past her lips. "That seems a little harsh. You haven't enjoyed the past year with me?" she teased, leaning back to look at him with a grin.
Although the utterly unimpressed expression he threw her almost made Orihime giggle again, the gentle slide of his fingers across the silk at her back somehow made it come out as a sigh. "I believe, had things been clear then, the time might have been spent somewhat differently," he said in a quiet tone that made a giddy rush of impulses run through her, so that she didn't know if she should blush or cover her face or laugh or kiss him, or maybe all of them at once.
"But things are clear now, aren't they?" she pointed out, wondering at her own boldness but feeling that, somehow, it was fitting; after all, Ulquiorra had always managed to make her act in ways that surprised her.
After a moment he gave a small nod, and she smiled softly. This time she tipped her head back when he leaned toward her, and she did not pull away from the kiss until the water boiling in the kettle spilled over and hissed loudly against the stove. With a little laugh she apologized and slipped into the kitchen, not missing the way his fingers had lingered against her hip as she moved away.
While she turned off the stove and wiped up the spilled water, she listened to the creak of the sofa as Ulquiorra sat down. She looked at the teacups on the counter for a moment before filling them and then considered the twin wisps of steam that curled into the air. The image was so mundane in contrast to what had just happened, some strange domestic overlay against the vibrancy of the things that had been expressed.
But the familiarity of those cups, the memory of the hundreds of times they had been used by her and Ulquiorra in the past, made her smile as she brought them into the living room and handed one to Ulquiorra. He raised his arm and draped it along the back of the sofa in a gesture that almost looked casual, but regardless Orihime needed no further encouragement to slip into the space beside him. It took such little effort, involved so little awkwardness, to sit there curled up against his side; even with the way things would be different, those things that had been so important to her – the comfort, the ease – would obviously remain.
She sipped her tea, ignoring the way the remaining ties on the furisode bit against her ribs when Ulquiorra's hand slipped around her shoulder and pulled her closer. If she could sit next to him like this, she could stand to wear it for a while longer.
Dunno if anybody is interested in a glossary of sorts, but you're getting one anyway.
Seijin no Hi: coming of age day, when people who celebrated their 20th birthday in the past year are congratulated/recognized as adults.
furisode: long-sleeved kimono worn by unmarried women.
kitsuke: to make a fairly complex idea simple, it is the art of wearing kimono.
conbini: Japanese convenient stores. At least three thousand times more awesome than those in the US.
obi-jime: cord tied around the obi
obi-age: to avoid a definition that will lead to another definition, it's more of a scarf-shaped accessory that is also used to help hold things that provide the shape of the obi when tied.
Honestly, for all the kimono related stuff, I would suggest the glorious expanses of the internet if you are curious!