CHAPTER 14: Reminders

Ulquiorra glared when he saw his face plastered on billboards and in magazines. That fucking blond idiot. He had stomped into Markus' place and screamed at the fashion designer. Markus told him that the shots had been brilliant and hot. Requests were pouring in from places, requesting his designs.

That was fucking wonderful but it did nothing for Ulquiorra to see his face constantly paired with Inoue's. Markus had blown him off with a wave of a hand, asking if the green-eyed man would like to pose for him again, this time with an "actual" model. He had rolled his eyes so hard at that term.

So he did the photoshoot and the model in question, who was named Yui, was educated and not a mindless waif as she presented herself. They talked and laughed the entire time. By the end of the day, Ulquiorra had made a friend. Not that he wanted someone around. He was brooding over his failed romance with Orihime. He left one day and then came back to find his extra key that he had given her in his mail, sealed in an envelope. After that, he'd boxed up all the shit she had left behind and gave it to Uryu when he saw him at Markus' studio.

The Quincy glared at him and if looks could kill, he'd be dead.

Ulquiorra did not care. He tried to avoid her as much as he could. At first, it was easy but then his agent started getting more and more requests for him to model.

"I'm an art agent. I know dick all about modeling. You're-"

"You're going to learn quickly about the modeling world then," Ulquiorra snapped at the man.

He had jobs lined up and he always made sure that his agent never took the jobs that had him paired up with Orihime. Then he found out that Orihime didn't even model anymore. She was solely focused on designing clothes or whatever she did. At least that was the rumor.

If she wasn't modeling anymore there could be a chance… Ulquiorra shook his head.

It wasn't his problem, but the ads that Markus had approved gave him a lot of invites to parties and appearances at clubs. He always took Yui to these functions because she was funny. She understood that he just wanted a friend and nothing else.

The gossip rags got wind of his supposed romance with Yui. The model said she didn't mind. Ulquiorra fucking minded. He didn't want to give the other model any ideas. This was just a friendship, nothing more. He had deflected her romantic advances, stating that he had just exited an intense relationship.

"Inoue?" Yui had asked while they were having coffee one morning at a cafe near his building. They had met there after Ulquiorra had been up all night painting. Yui had been at Markus' studio all night.

Ulquiorra mulled this question over then nodded.

"You're not over her, are you?"

This time he shook his head. She accepted this with a smile. He constantly thought about the redhead. He got several new tattoos even though he hadn't sold any paintings.

When he wasn't working with other designers or posing, Ulquiorra was painting. He still had an obligation to the art galleries that had booked his shows. It hadn't been easy. He had put a box cutter through the unfinished painting of Orihime and thrown it away. His mood had become dark and desolate, so that's what he painted. Dark, brutal imagery plagued his art.

He hated it.

Paintings of a tall man with a long tongue and a scythe. A blue panther patrolling the white sands, half of the animal's face just a skull. A bat bleeding, impaled by a crystal branch. The mask of the Vizard who had defeated him. All the images of what happened in Hueco Mundo came to life with bold, angry brushstrokes and bursts of color.

Ulquiorra decided at this show, he'd sell his beloved paintings. They had been taken down off the wall and stowed away. He couldn't bear the sight of either one. It hurt too much. Seeing his face next to Orihime hurt. Seeing the images of them kissing was excruciating.

He deserved it though. He had said things that he could never take back. She had told him to get out and he did so with spite.

He missed her though.

She had been beside herself for the first few weeks. She lost weight and didn't sleep well. After the first week Uryu noticed and started sleeping at home again on a temporary basis. She wouldn't let him go to bed with her, but when she had nightmares that woke him up, he'd come to her room and slip into bed with her anyway, holding her until she stopped trembling.

Uryu had told her that now that she and Murcielago had broken up, Markus wasn't interested in her anymore, preferring to go with Ulquiorra and other more typical models. Orihime didn't care about losing the gig. She was heartbroken about Ulquiorra stealing it, though.

She cried and agonized until she grew numb, and then she threw herself into her work.

She shelved the patterns and partially completed garments she had been working on at school and started a new collection from scratch. She stayed in the school's studios until the wee hours of the mornings almost everyday. She gave up modelling completely. She made cash doing a little tailoring now and then and relying on Uryu's generosity. She accepted it. It was short-term and she would pay him back. She had to focus on her collection.

She drew and drew and and draped and patterned and sewed. For the very first time, she started with a crystal clear idea of what she wanted to design, each piece, from start to finish, and how she wanted each styled; it was all just a matter of execution. She wasn't afraid of hard work.

Uryu began spending less and less time at home as Orihime began to toil away all night most evenings, crashing in the student lounges and only going home to shower and change.

Orihime stopped caring so much about the fun side of this industry; the photography and partying, the scene and the gossip, and focused on the nitty-gritty business of working hard and getting shit done. This was the new her; focused and unsmiling. She wasn't going out of her way to please anyone. She had a job to do. It reflected in the way she presented herself. At first it was just her clothes; she was not privy to Markus' designs anymore, so she made her own with the leftover fabric she was using to craft her new designs. Most of it was black and white, not unlike Markus' in that regard, so most people didn't even notice.

The way she did her makeup was getting edgier; she lined her eyes more heavily, mainly to mask the fact that she never slept. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail most days. Again, it was a matter of practicality.

However, there was one thing that she did that was not a practicality. When Orihime stopped in the cafe near her school for her third cup of coffee one morning, she saw the news in the culture pages about Ulquiorra's new girlfriend. Of course she was drop-dead gorgeous. She looked nothing like Orihime. The paper explained that they had met modeling for Markus' spring campaign together, and had been inseparable ever since. When Orihime read this, the pain of their breakup shot through her as strong as the day it had happened. It made her want to bleed. It made her want to take a scalding hot shower. It made her want to begin to dye her hair. Her most signature physical feature, the one Tatsuki fought to protect, the one her brother had praised, the one Ulquiorra had first painted. All it ever did was remind her of pain.

It was just a few streaks at first, but everytime she would see a new picture of Ulquiorra and Yui together, she felt compelled to mark the occasion with another black streak. It didn't take long for her entire head to be peppered with peekaboo black streaks.

She began to attract Aki's attention. The woman misguidedly felt that Orihime was trying to emulate her and was flattered. Aki took the redhead under her wing to an extent, inviting her with her to events and lending her assistants when Orihime complained about her workload.

Uryu was still worried. He called some of Orihime's old friends from Karakura to try to arrange a get-together in Shibuya. Only Ichigo came. He had learned his lesson the last time he tried to visit and didn't try to hit on Orihime, but that didn't stop him from giving her the third degree about her choice in men. He had been deeply disturbed to see the pictures of her and her artist ex-boyfriend. "You know he looks exactly like that Espada," he lectured, "It's not healthy for you to be so fixated on the past. You have to move on. No wonder that relationship didn't go anywhere. Maybe you should talk to a professional."

Orihime's eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. Was Ichigo serious? Did he know how hypocritical he was being? She glanced at Uryu with one eyebrow raised as Ichigo went on and on. Uryu only shrugged. Ichigo still had his head firmly lodged up his own ass.

They had decided to all go to a club together. Uryu wanted them all to meet Markus. Orihime didn't have any specific bad feelings toward the other designer, so she didn't object. She just planned on keeping a low profile on the chance that Ulquiorra would show up.

It had been almost a month since she had been out socially. She hadn't had an opportunity to dress for herself for months before that when she was the face for Markus. She was at a loss as she stared into her closet.

"Quin!" she called from her room. Uryu perked up from his disinterested, glazed-over expression he wore listening to Kurosaki and asked to be excused for a moment, walking into Orihime's room to find her butt naked and staring in to her closet. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.

"Orihime!" he hissed. "Kurosaki could have been right behind me!"

She looked over her shoulder at him with a dull expression. "Quin, I don't give a flying fuck if he sees me naked spread over a lawn chair. I just don't care. I need help dressing." Her head slowly turned back to her closet.

Uryu was anxious to get going. He didn't want to hang around the apartment listening to Kurosaki drone on about the goings-on in soul society or his monthly hollow average. He looked into Orihime's closet and pulled out a tiny black dress. It was a plain shift with no embellishments and lots of room for visible sideboob. "Here wear this with some strappy stilettos and you can cosplay as Posh Spice," he said, shoving the dress into her hands. "No undies," he warned, walking out of her room and closing the door behind him.

Ten minutes later they were on their way to Aquamarine again.

Ulquiorra was standing in Markus' studio with his arms crossed over his chest. "I have an art show to get ready for. I do not have time to entertain your brainless ideas."

Markus rolled his eyes. "I need you to represent my fashion label tonight, just for an hour or two. You look so good in the designs I did just for you. I know Yui is free, she already said that she would be willing to escort you. Uryu mentioned he's inviting Inoue out."

His impassive facade cracked a little, showing interest at the last statement. He then scoffed. "Your fashions are borrowed ideas from other designers. It's not hard to pair a t-shirt with a pair of jeans and then layer a jacket over it."

"You wound me," the designer pouted.

"No, I don't. Why would I care if Yui is willing to "escort" me? Why would I care if Ori-Inoue will be there?"

"Word travels fast in this business, Murcielago. Apparently, Inoue is unrecognizable. You're under contract to represent my brand. I demand your presence tonight."

The dark-haired man shook his head. "Fine, you hack. Where is this outfit?"

Fifteen minutes later, Ulquiorra was dressed in a ridiculous outfit. He had on black boots, a pair of white trousers that had black zippers up the sides. The cinder gray shirt was longer than what it needed to be, cut diagonally where the hem went from his hip on one side then fell to his knees on the other where it was slitted all the way up his torso, held in place by crisscrossed straps. It was also sleeveless and clung to him. The asshole made it out of silk.

He scowled as he looked at the blond. "No. Pick anything else."

Markus wouldn't budge as he had an assistant style his hair. Another woman, the makeup artist, quickly had his eyes lined with something. When everyone was gone, Markus smiled. It only took fifteen minutes until they were at some club.

Orihime watched with a bored expression as Uryu and Ichigo made their way out onto the dancefloor. She stood at the bar and accepted drinks that anonymous people bought for her, drinking her way into a state of not really giving a fuck who might show up or how obnoxious her friends might get. Aki had texted her to tell her that she was bringing Zerge and Pauletto later and asking her to stay until at least they had a chance to hang out together. Aki had enough pull to get her own booth, but she wasn't going to arrive for about another hour.

Orihime took a sip of something sweet and grimaced. She turned to the barkeeper and said, "Can you get me a Skinny Bitch and put it on Markus' tab? Thanks!" with a sweet smile.

The barkeeper didn't ask any questions. Her drink arrived a moment later and she raised her glass to herself, and with a bitter smile said, "Cheers Markus, you backstabbing scum," then took a long, cool sip. That was better. She scanned the room and didn't see anyone else she knew, so she made her way to a dark corner and stayed close to the wall.

Ulquiorra didn't wait for Markus and his entourage to follow behind him. He just went towards the door the club, they knew his face so he didn't have to say anything as he walked in. He knew he was being rude and didn't care. As usual, this place was a cesspool of desperate bodies waiting for their next quick fuck. He hated going out in public. He hated other people that asked prying questions.

The music was too loud, and the mixed smell of bodies and perfume was enough to make him head directly to the bar, ordering a drink. He kept telling himself that he wasn't here for a chance to see Orihime… Inoue… Whatever. He wasn't here for her. He was just maintaining his contract obligation.

Orihime had, due to necessity, left her phone with Ichigo. There was nowhere on her person to keep it. Her dress was basically just a square piece of cloth sewn together into a cylinder and held over her shoulders with thin strings. It lay open all the way to the top of her hips in the back and revealed most of her ribs on the sides. Pursuant to Uryu's rules, "no undies", she didn't even have a bra to stow a phone in. Uryu knew her passcode and she didn't want him thumbing through the device, so Ichigo was the only option.

She sipped on her vodka and began to sway to the music with her eyes closed. She didn't hate coming to places like this, in fact she rather enjoyed it under the right circumstances. In the dark spot she currently claimed, away from groping hands and prying eyes, it was just her, the vodka, and the music. It was the closest she had felt to serenity since her break up

There was no downside at the moment, as far as she was concerned. She was completely free. No one could call her and demand her time. She didn't have a screen to pretend to be occupied with. She finished her drink and set her glass down and took a step into the edges of the dancing lights. The music changed to something pretty and melodic with an almost atmospheric edge but a strong bassline. She began to dance freely. For the time being, no person disturbed her.

Ulquiorra rolled his eyes as Markus came inside and directed him to a booth. It was such bullshit what he had to put up with from the man. They weren't fucking and he wasn't a pushover like his former girlfriend going along with every little demand. It was probably why Markus didn't like him all that much. Ulquiorra would not bow down to the designer. He set his drink on the table and allowed Yui to slip into the booth first. He made sure he was away from the blond. He didn't want to hear his shit tonight about representing a brand or whatever other nonsense came out of his mouth.

Almost immediately the Quincy arrived, reaching over the table to kiss Markus on the cheek and smile at Yui and the rest of those present, excluding Ulquiorra. After greeting his boyfriend, he stood up and to the side to introduce another person. "Markus, this is a friend of mine from school, Kurosaki Ichigo. Kurosaki, this is my boyfriend, Markus."

Kurosaki nodded to the blond man and smiled cordially, scanning the other people seated at the booth. When his eyes landed on Yui, his eyebrows flashed rather obviously, and his grin took on a rakish air. That all disappeared when he saw the person seated to her left. The grin melted into a familiar scowl. "Oh, it's you," the shinigami ground out through clenched teeth. He caught himself after a beat and relaxed his expression, lifting his brows and tilting his chin up at Yui in an obvious come-on.

"Nice to see you again, Kurosaki," Ulquiorra said. He noted the orange-haired man's reaction to his "date", and he noticed Yui's smile at him. They were just friends. He didn't care what or who she did. He had no plans to sleep with her.

Kurosaki furrowed his brows at the man to his right, "Again? You just met me, dude. I've seen you before though. It's not nice to meet you. Inoue is my friend, and I don't take kindly to losers who break her heart, so don't talk to me."

That was amusing. Ulquiorra turned his gaze to the Quincy. "You didn't tell him?" he asked with a lift of his eyebrow.

Uryu scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Not. Worth. It." is all he said before turning his attention back to Markus. He quickly looked back at the artist and advised, "She's here, FYI." He trusted Ulquiorra not to talk to her. He hadn't all this time, what would make him start now?

"Don't worry. I get it." Ulquiorra scanned the crowd but didn't see anyone who matched his ex's description. She must have been in the ladies room. After the assessment, he turned his attention back to the substitute shinigami. "We met before. Six years ago… In another place. I'm C. Murcielago."

"Yeah, whatever. What does the C. stand for? I don't know anyone who goes by his initials." The lighting in this club was dim. Ulquiorra's eyes looked normal with his pupils wide like they were. Ichigo was not making the connection.

"It stands for Cifer," Yui said, smiling at Ichigo. "Pardon me but would you like to dance, Kurosaki?"

Ichigo smiled at her, "Yeah, c'mon," he said before scowling at Ulquiorra again.

Ulquiorra shifted out of the way so that the model could get past him and then watched as they walked onto the dance floor. He sighed, looking around again. "Ishida, where is she? I'm only asking so that I can avoid her."

"I don't fucking know, Batman. Kurosaki has her phone, so I can't even find out for you. Um, she's wearing black. She looks fantastic. Figure the rest out on your own," he whined, sick of being a go-between.

"You just fucking told me to leave her alone in fewer words than that," he snapped. Ulquiorra quickly downed the rest of his drink before leaving the booth.

He walked towards the bar not caring who he ran into, Ulquiorra didn't bother to apologize to anyone. He was going to order another drink but something, no, someone caught his eye. Swallowing, Ulquiorra turned his entire body towards the person who caught his attention. His mouth went dry. He was staring at a very different and dark version of Inoue Orihime. He debated whether or not he should go over to her, but the Quincy did say to leave her be and not bother her. There were mixed signals in his words though.

Deciding to tempt fate, Ulquiorra walked in her direction, watching as her body moved. The so-called scrap of fabric she wore as a dress did nothing to hide those curves. It was clear with how much of her side was exposed that she was not wearing a bra. He was already an idiot, so he decided to be even stupider and walk up behind her, his body scant inches from hers.

Ulquiorra wanted to reach out and grab her hips so that he could pull her against him. He wanted to speak to her. He found that his body would not listen, so he did neither. His fingers merely twitched.

Someone had approached. She could feel the temperature around her shift. Whoever it was had not moved after what she assumed was his initial approach. It was fine with her. She wasn't here to make friends. She continued to sway her hips in the same way as before, until she smelled something. She could swear it was eucalyptus. Cedar. Leather. Shit, there was no way. She knew there was a chance that he was here tonight but she knew he would avoid her if he even recognized her. It must just be a similar scent. Or maybe he had walked through that space earlier. Her hips stilled and she took another deep breath. It smelled exactly like him.

She opened her eyes and looked straight ahead. She steeled her expression as her eyes cautiously scanned the room before her. There was no way the guy behind her was him. He wouldn't approach her. He hated her.

He hated her.

The image of him shouting at her in that hospital room flashed before her eyes. She blinked hard and grit her teeth. Despite her best efforts, her chin bobbled, and a tear streaked out of her left eye before she knew what was happening. She quickly wiped it away and took off quickly toward the restroom. She couldn't be seen crying in a club, especially this one.

Ulquiorra didn't know what he expected. Okay, maybe he expected her to turn around and look at him. He didn't expect her to freeze or sniffle or take off like a bat flying out of hell. With quick steps, dodging and slipping between the bodies on the dance floor, Ulquiorra knew he had to reach her. He needed to talk to her. People kept getting in his way, and he had to run to catch up with her practically.

Reaching out his pale hand, Ulquiorra caught her wrist just before she made it to the door of the bathroom. He made sure he had an iron grip on it so she couldn't yank herself away.

She yelped when she felt the strong hand grab her wrist, but quickly decided it must be either Uryu or Ichigo. She turned around to see a much paler hand on her wrist. She looked up and followed the arm attached to the hand to see his face looking at her with an unreadable expression. She froze.

If he didn't look at her pictures, he could tell himself he was over her. If he didn't think about all the time they spent together, he could forget her. Seeing her dancing the way that she had been erased the past almost two months. The feeling like his heart was breaking was back. He felt overwhelming emotions flooding his senses. She looked like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, staring at him wide-eyed. He could barely breathe looking at her. Several times his mouth opened and closed before he managed to say, "Woman?" It was a heavy question.

She continued to stare at him for a long moment, completely stunned. She heard his question. She hiccuped at hearing the familiar name he used for her. This had to be a nightmare. Her brow crumpled. "No," she whimpered so quietly that she barely heard it, looking down and to the side. She had finally become functional to a degree. How could this be happening now?

"Orihime, please," Ulquiorra said, pulling her closer to him so that he didn't have to speak in a loud voice. He could feel her resisting him. All he wanted to do was apologize. "I was in the wrong."

She rose one eye to him, puzzled. Okay, so he realized he had been a fuck up of massive proportions. She doubted he really thought so, though. Maybe he felt overwhelmed with pity? None of that changed the fact that he didn't wait two weeks to steal her job and find himself a new girlfriend. She sighed and used her free hand to wipe her eyes. "What do you want me to do, Ulquiorra?" she asked in a breaking voice.

She wasn't going to forgive him. That was fine. It was perfectly within her right to do so. He'd been an asshole that day. He had been more than an asshole. He'd been the biggest dickbag ever. "Talk to me," he replied. Ulquiorra knew that she would probably get pissed off at him but it was worth a shot. He had to ask. "Go somewhere with me and talk to me. I can't stand this."

Orihime rolled her eyes. He couldn't stand this? How selfish could one person be? He left her high and dry, and everything had worked out swell for him. "Fine, you wanna talk? Let's talk. Wherever you want."

She didn't sound very convinced. "If I talk are you going to listen or just let it go in one ear and out the other?" Ulquiorra stared at her. "We can go back to my place… Or yours… Or find some place that is open that's not filled with drunk people or loud music."

"Don't you think your girlfriend would be pissed if her boyfriend left with his ex? We can talk outside." She couldn't believe him. What kind of shitty apology was this? And since when did he think he could set the terms for the conditions of her acceptance?

He knew that damn article was going to cause problems. Ulquiorra wasn't going to have this discussion outside though, not with other people around, gawking at him. "Yui's not my girlfriend. She's a female friend. I've already told her that I wasn't interested in her and that-She's dancing with Kurosaki right now. Why does he have your phone?"

She looked at him with a dubious expression and grabbed at the sides of her dress, pulling out the sides as far as the material would stretch, exposing herself to him a great deal momentarily. "Does it look to you like I have anywhere to keep it?" she asked sarcastically.

Ulquiorra took a glance at her and then looked away. "No," he managed to say with a dry mouth. Fuck; she was still beautiful. At least when he looked back at her, she no longer was giving him a look at her tits and body. "You told me to pick wherever I wanted to talk. I picked. This isn't a talk we need an audience for, Woman. I don't want an audience for it."

She was not having it. There was absolutely no way in hell she was going back to his place. Uryu and Kurosaki would murder him if they found him at home, although she was weighing the pros and cons of that situation in the back of her mind. "Karaoke."

There was a huge karaoke place the next block over. They could rent a sound-proof booth if that's what he wanted.

His jaw clenched, and he thought about this for a moment. Ulquiorra should have never even bothered her. He should have left her alone like the Quincy had said to do. "Why not my place?"

"You don't want a child support whore in your place, do you Ulquiorra?"

Yeah, she was definitely still harboring ill feelings towards him. He deserved it, every bit of her ire; he asked for it. "You're the woman I can't get over. The one who got away; the one who told me to get out because I'm an insensitive asshole. I can't stand being this miserable. I cannot stand-I was wrong for saying that. "

"For someone who's supposedly not over me you've got a funny way of showing it. Do you want to talk or not? Do you want to do this here? I'm not going to your place. Period."

"No. Nevermind," he said then narrowed his eyes at her. Ulquiorra let go of her wrist, remembering the words she had murmured to him while they were fucking in the stairwell. "You don't want to obey me, that's fine. Sorry to bother you."