All Wrong- UlquiHime

Orihime had a beautiful laugh. Since she had came to Los Noches, however, Ulquiorra noticed that he heard it less and less. There was something about that laugh that made something inside him stir, if only for a moment. He was sure that he would never hear a sound to match it.

When Ulquiorra laughed, it could hardly be called a laugh. It was more like a chuckle, or a really deep rumble that expressed his cruel sense of humor. This chuckle, gross as it was, was rare. But whenever a lowly numerous was decapitated in just the right way, Ulquiorra would laugh…and everyone would stare.

His laugh was nothing compared to hers. And he knew the way he wished to hear hers again was all wrong.

Orihime had an amazing smile. Since she had come to Los Noches, however, Ulquiorra noticed that they were no longer genuine and becoming more fake everyday. Sometimes instead of happiness they now displayed fear, insecurity or loneliness. But whenever she managed a real smile, it could brighten up a room like nothing else he'd ever seen. Sometimes he wondered if that was one of her fairy superpowers.

When Ulquiorra smiled, it was sadistic and twisted. It wasn't quite that toothy grin Grimmjow gave when he ripped the guts out of his 'prey'. It was more like a slight tug of his black lips upwards in one corner. But no matter how slight it may be, it was always menacing. There was nothing brightening about his smile. Ulquiorra's lips were not meant to make any such gesture. They screamed in protest at the motion.

His smile was nothing compared to hers. And he knew the way he wished to see hers again was all wrong.

Orihime had the softest skin. Since she had come to Los Noches, however, Ulquiorra noticed that her skin no longer had the same texture. Sometimes her hands felt rough and clammy, which alarmed him greatly. Was she becoming ill? But no. The next day they'd be normal. When her skin was hers again, whether she brushed you walking by or accidently touched your hand by taking something from you, it broke even the strong willed and made them consider some pretty nasty things. Something about the warmth and gentleness of that skin was torture.

When Ulquiorra touched anyone, they withdrew, alienated. But that wasn't a problem because Ulquiorra rarely touched a person except to impale them through the chest. His skin was rough and impenetrable as well as extremely cold. He might as well have been made of rock. If there was blood flowing in his veins, it didn't do anything except keep him alive.

His touch was nothing compared to hers. And he knew the way he wished to feel her again was all wrong.

Sometimes Ulquiorra would be forced to attend meetings for hours, while other times he was assigned to oversee some numerous mission. Boring and easy, his mind always drifted and he began to think of other things. Despite his desire for them not to be, other things usually referred to Orihime. Visits with her were always the most interesting parts of his day. He was almost growing to…look forward to them.

He was nothing compared to her. And he knew the way he wished to be with her was all wrong.