Grimmjow's POV

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So often do people assume that one's fuck-ups would eventually come to straighten themselves—through time. In reality, the guilt that often followed was more suggestive of infinity than any other damned consequence. And, of course, conquering it would have to be another story. While I had never really denied the part played by my selfishness in this catastrophe, I would never have credited myself with something like a clean conscience. I was the biggest asshole out here in this world. That was to say, I did not deserve forgiveness, much less salvation—which was precisely what Kurosaki Ichigo was offering me now. No doubt other regrets started crowding upon me, because now he was implying the possibility I did not deserve, rather than boldly describing it. But I was just the type who was capable of reading between the lines, somehow.

"Whatever the outcome of this may be, know that I at least tried—and not a day passed when you did not cross my mind. Truth is, I meant to call, like maybe a million times, but I was scared—dreading that you might not be there anymore... I'm sorry for breaking your heart." This tasteless crap simply flowed out of me. More than being lame, I couldn't find it in me to apologize in advance for what atrocity I would force him to undertake. Unfortunately, there was no guiding principle available for me beyond a certain preference for what was easy, because—screw it—I could sometimes be a stinking coward.

But the world being what it was, somehow there was more to this ending than I had prepared myself for. Ichigo told me just then, moving closer,

"Grimmjow, there's something you need to know. In fact, there's a shit load of things I've meant to tell you, despite wholly believing we would never cross paths ever again."

"Well, say it before we lose the chance again."

He appeared solemn. There was no dejection, no discomfiture, none of the awkward manner with which some of the wretched prolonged their sorry state. He presided, never minding how anxious I was becoming,

"My youth was all about you. I guess your very existence lodged somewhere so deep inside me that neither the years nor the bitter memories could've expelled it. Had it not been for you, I never would've gone on to where I am now. I strived, worked hard for success and for happiness, all because I wanted so much to be occupied with anything other than the thought of you. There was a conviction in me to remember you simply as that one passing stumbling block in my life—an excess piece of the puzzle that was my life. But you were never that. Far away as you were, you never really allowed me to succeed in thoroughly moving on. For far too long I had to wonder why. For too many times I had questions dangling over me. And now you show up. You show up, and all of a sudden all the questions are answered. You are, all along, the answer to every question I have been plagued with."

None of what he had said worked in my favor as far as my conscience was concerned, and all I could say was,

"So you admit, that somehow I never really ceased being a part of you."

"I guess, yeah, we never really moved on."

The illusion of stillness, which the night encourged, grew larger still. As for me, I went on to keep my fists fastened inside my pockets, as a form of retraint; what force I was restraining inside me would remain unclear, until I recognized how strong my desire was to draw him closer to me. All the same, hell was screaming its counsel. I had the capacity now, it seemed, to spin everything around as I pleased, as well as the power to execute calluousness to the extent that it would wreck people. In short, I could rend Kurosaki and his lovely wife asunder. Because wasn't that the one prerequisite to attain what I had come here for? Clearly, I had no fucking use for justice. It had always been known to me that doing good in this hellish life, to humanity in particular, was rewarded all sorts of merit whose sole purpose was to gratify ego and nothing more. What good was it to champion altruism when good deeds would be bound to dissolve into the universal grey, and into the blackness of this sick world? For all I knew, the world would not be the worse for anything if I were to destroy one among the millions of freaking marriages prevailing at this time.

At the end of the day, however, the choice was all his, and what was left for me to do at this moment was to let him know as much.

"Kurosaki, run away with me."

"I have worked for years to build this life up. It would seem incredible if I were to permit its destruction. However, my rule through life has been to side with the truth. The truth is..." He paused. I deduced I could not draw any definite meaning behind the silence that followed, except that it just grew in my soul. On and on the soundlessness gathered without the least pretension to peace, least of all to some manner of certainty, and yet somehow I felt the gulf between us narrowing to its eventual disappearance. And then he resumed, "The ugly truth is this: The moment you walked in earlier into the ballroom marked the end of my marriage. I cannot explain entirely, but betraying a spouse is not limited to overt dalliances alone. The fact that you have just stirred in me something so terrifying, by simply showing yourself to me, is sufficient testimony to what crime I am bound to commit. I am bound to her by human laws—quite equally as I am bound to you through the greatest order of things. Neither of us aimed for this; it is simply the way it is, and it is something against which I can't rebel. Grimmjow, you are, once again, dismantling and governing my life."

"And then follow what every atom of your being is begging you to do."

"Before I dive head-first into this pit, answer me; What was going on inside your head at that time?"

"Believe it or not, I left more on account of you than on account of my own sake. Would your father, a respectable physician, have allowed us anything resembling a happy ending? You could argue that thinking ahead was never a common practice among douchebag teenagers like me, but there you have it. I could see no decent future ahead of you in so long as I clung to you. There was, trust me, not a life in this world to which I could contribute, and lesser still was the happiness I could offer. And then within years of being apart from you, I came to realize how little all this mentioned crap mattered. I didn't know back then that all I should've given a shit about was the fact that I never truly would have been able to stop loving you."

Upon finishing my shitty anecdote, I turned to him to be greeted by a smile, the first one in what must have been days. There was an air about him which showed plainer than words that he was relieved, that somehow my speech equated to some sort of a clarification. Truly, Kurosaki Ichigo was one splendid individual. He was attractive, even more attractive now than when we had been in our teens. Indeed, the sharper angles his face had acquired hinted a strong sense of character. Masculinity wasn't something I was disposed to observe for longer than five minutes, and yet here I was, marveling at the man whose heart I had broken too many times.

And the bastard that I was could hold it in no longer.

I pulled him to me, because it was all I could do amid the helplessness and the other forces I did not understand. All I knew precisely was, his being mine again must start now at all cost. And he, being cast unduly into this fucking mess I liked to call my resolve, eventually allowed himself to be held. Wrapping him in my arms, I became instantly lost in his scent. With his face buried in my chest, no doubt this development made the gulf between me and justice grow both wider and deeper, but, as I had declared before, a devil like me had no use for fucking justice. I hadn't been born to forever avoid trampling on manmade sanctities like a fucking marriage.

And yet elsewhere, one woman's life was reaching a disastrous climax without her realizing it.

Mika Yamazaki had done me no harm. In return, I was ruining her life. That said, there were all sorts of generosity in this world with which a bastard like me could have attempted no familiarity whatsoever. This was not to say I was entirely heartless. It was just that I had no refinement whatsoever to sacrifice any manner of happiness which might henceforth come my way. Hell, I had been on the brink of clinical depression for far too long, and I wasn't just to allow that to continue at this point. And more importantly, two people's lifelong happiness was at stake here; mine and Ichigo's. And hence exactly at this point Kurosaki and I entered an understanding of each other without resorting to words—I of his own ultimate decision and he of the fact that I had realized it. Leave his wife he would. Leave whatever life he had led for the past years.

Leave everything behind, and just be swept away with no anchorage—by me, beneath the great dome of the black sky.

"So this is it; Rukia Kuchiki is our fucking savior?" Ichigo's voice shot through the silence. He was pulling himself away from me.

"What do you mean?"

"If she hadn't conducted this huge-ass birthday party, we never would've come face to face; so who among the two of us would've had the courage to do what was right? What would become of us if not for this damned fancy reunion? Fucking ghosts?"

He had a point. And yet at the same time I was now too weary to be compelled to feel any more remorse, and the way he was looking at me did nothing to salve my conscience. By now Ichigo was probably too convinced that I hadn't meant to come back to him on my own terms, that my courage only extended as far as awaiting a damned reunion ball to happen. In reality, he only had the vaguest conception of what I had planned since he had tied the knot.

"Looking back, and perhaps forward, I guess not." I answered finally, and, although I sounded more like muttering to myself rather than saying something in earnest, I heard my voice clearly as I declared my final confession, to leave him in no doubt of my original intention, "I think I'd have acted on myself too, sooner or later, with or without Kuchiki's grand assembly or some other external force. Perhaps it's also worth mentioning that Ulquiorra has been more than pushy about me contacting you. He was correct, somehow, about me not being capable of living another year apart from you…it could only have gone on for one more year and no more than that."

"You meant to come back? Well, Grimmjow, you had a very contradictory way of showing it."

"No, Ichigo, be serious. Somehow, at the back of my mind and in the heart of all things, I meant to come back. I knew I would return—to ultimately find you. Did you ever lose hope? Or have you been waiting for me all these years?"

"I never waited. You had been quite diligent in showing me that there was no hope of your return."

The bitterness in his voice seemed to suggest it would take more than words to placate him. On the other hand, I wasn't faring well either, at least not any more than he was. At length, I replied, if only to demonstrate what sincerity was due me,

"I am here now, never to go away. I—well—I would have desecrated everything that's holy and taken on every blasphemy I could be forced to commit in order to finally make my way to you. And that's exactly what I am doing now. I could've moved heaven and earth. I don't give a fuck about what else should happen next, as long as you're here. I meant to take you away, and in the end disappear with you. Forever."

Finally, on this night of all nights, I fancied my answer to be satisfactory. This fleeting moment, as it was, turned out to be one of the few absolute things in this otherwise grey world. But he pressed on for more, perhaps just to make sure,

"Are you sure now?"

"Damn sure. Hold on to me. Never let go. I'm not leaving anymore, Ichigo."

Two less lonely blokes in the world—this is the end to this tale.

END