Disclaimer: The standard applies. Again I apologize for any potential OOC-ness.

Chapter 22 - Let's Talk About...: Part Three

If there ever was a time where reel and real danced past their barriers and merged into a single stream of consciousness, this was it. Stuck halfway between the real world and a dream-like state, two people deserted in their own little world. Here Ichigo was, lying on top of a shirtless Ulquiorra Schiffer, touching him. They weren't kissing yet, just navigating each other's bodies with their hands, making sure they grew accustomed to the sensations and felt comfortable in their bare skin. Brave and nonchalant and indifferent as Ichigo tried to be, he caught himself blushing again when Ulquiorra's naked torso press up against his.

His fingers were like a compass, searching for a direction. They set sail across the smooth, pale chest radiating with a desirous glow, sometimes going around in circles, sometimes skimming across the surface. As if painting a picture, they traced the contour of Ulquiorra's body. He planted a light kiss on the man's left chest, the exact spot where his heart lay beneath. He could feel his co-star's heartbeat traversing through his lips and into his veins. It was rhythmic, like the ebb and flow of waves nudging against the shore. His heart was beating mile a minute. The air around them thinned, and he wondered if the other man could hear the pounding. To him it was deafening, like thunder striking the sea, with their deep rumbles traveling through vacuum. The hands running up and down Ulquiorra's body were his, but they weren't his too. In all honesty, he didn't know what he was doing. What he knew was he could no longer be himself. He wasn't even of this world anymore. He belonged to the fictitious world of Autumn Chrysalis, a runaway from his samurai clan in Choshu who fell for his friend eventually.

Ulquiorra's cool hands ghosted across the carrot top's back, settling on the small of his back, as if to say, "Remember how this feels. Remember this well lest you forget how you should feel when the cameras are rolling." He reached for Ichigo's lightly tanned nape, his fingers grasping the short orange strands, twirling them around his forefinger even. Their mouths came together in a sloppy angle, but it worked out fine. A long time passed. Neither could tear himself away from the other. The kiss grew deeper and with more feeling. Their throats burned and tongues clashed maniacally. Soon they would make love as if tonight was their last.

Actions became more emphasized and dramatic, ricocheting off their bodies and causing the settee to rock unsettlingly. They broke apart for a short while, gasping for breath. Lost and trapped in a puzzling state, they gazed hungrily at each other before launching into another searing kiss. They didn't hold back anymore, not after realizing what they could do when fully cloaked in the safety of their characters.

As their passion hit the peak, so did the settee. Unable to bear the tipping of balance anymore, it wavered like the sea. Sustained pressure could only get it this far. With an agitated cry the legs tumbled and snapped. Like brittle twigs roasting before a fire, cracks hissed and spat throughout the house. Outside the windows some birds flapped away in shock. A swivel of dust soared around them, jostling with confused purrs. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the two men found themselves lurching backward, as if tumbling down a serpentine path into space. Ichigo's heart was caught in his throat. They first saw stars revolving around the ceiling, and then, their legs sky high in the air, knees bent as though they were pedaling.

"What just happened?" Ichigo turned to question Ulquiorra, snug in his embrace. At last his heartbeat returned to normal. "Are we at the epicenter of a massive earthquake?"

"I believe the settee is now destroyed," Ulquiorra answered.

Arms still around Ulquiorra, Ichigo raised himself on his elbows to gawk at the mess surrounding them. The settee had somersaulted and two of its four legs splintered. Cushions were thrown up into the air and landed around the living room. No cracks were found along the marble floor.

"How did this...whoa. Hang on. Are we in some theatre production or play now? The last time I saw a sofa's legs give way was back in an early 90s slapstick comedy!"

Ulquiorra closed his eyes and choked back a sigh. "You."

"Me?"

"Can let go of me now."

Ichigo hurriedly disentangled his arms from his co-star's waist. "What do we do about this then? Ask for a refund? Do you still have the warranty?"

Ulquiorra shook his head.

"Sucks to hear that. Hmm...let's see. What else can we do for your beloved little settee? I have an idea! Shall we dump it? But it's such a waste. I think I've grown a little attached to it too. Yeah-hey, can the legs can be fixed?"

"I highly doubt it."

"Oh," said Ichigo.

A frown nary crossed Ulquiorra's features. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh."

"I do not understand your 'oh'."

"Too bad then," said Ichigo. He proffered a finger at the settee. "Live without it? Maybe you can get a sensible futon in place of your luxurious settee. Learn to live the simple life every now and then. It will do your big, egotistical head an entire world of good."

Ulquiorra rolled to his side and got up. He dusted dirt off his body, rubbing his fingers together as if flicking away imaginary grains of sand, and pulled on his tee. "Remembered what we had said about one's centre of gravity?" he asked, and tossed Ichigo his pink shirt.

Ichigo caught it deftly and put it on. "You mean the one we had in the car?"

The green eyed man nodded.

"What about it?" Ichigo asked as he buttoned his shirt.

"This settee is to me what your family is to you."

Later that evening Ichigo stopped by a furniture shop in Roppongi Hills. Initially he wanted to venture further downtown and scour an acceptable settee to replace the crippled Bottega Veneta settee, but thought against it. With his income, it wasn't as if he couldn't afford an equally extravagant furniture piece. Perhaps he could get him a futon for laughs, or maybe a cheap couch. Ichigo tried to picture his pale co-star sitting on a fluffy futon, then a 5,000 yen couch. Both imaginary scenes rounded off with Ulquiorra scratching himself all over like a monkey at the thought of planting his bum on something unworthy of him.

According to Ulquiorra, the settee had endured six years of wear and tear, and due to certain reasons he refused to throw it out. What the older man had said hinged on Ichigo's memory - that the settee bore sentimental importance to him. The more he replayed those words in his mind, the sorrier he felt for his stoic co-star. He couldn't help it. Ulquiorra - bar his feline friend - lived by himself in a sparsely decorated yet pricey penthouse suite, and that made things worse. Poor man.

For the time being, Ulquiorra would have to make do with the red beanbag they lugged from his bedroom. They shifted the damaged settee into the storeroom whilst Ulquiorra fixed him with his cold green eyes, as if berating him for what had happened.

"It's hardly my fault that the settee broke. OK, I might have been just a little too vigorous. Surely something of that exorbitant price tag can do better? And why does every time something in his house spoils, I'm there too? Am I that lucky or what? What's next? The TV exploding? I'd better get an ambulance ready, just in case. Sheesh," he mumbled under his breath as he browsed the living room section. Nothing caught his eye so far. They were all generic looking sofas, none that would fit the minimalist feel his co-star's abode evoked. He left the shop and entered another, only to come out grumbling and cursing his very fate.

Soon he visited every furniture shop along the street. Each time he exited empty-handed. His legs were aching and he was hungry. His eyelids threatened to clamp shut anytime. The night was exceptionally cold too. It was almost October. He puffed the chilly air out from his lungs and reached for a scarf when he remembered he had left it at Ulquiorra's house. Rubbing his palms together, he walked down the street when he spotted a traditional ramen restaurant with a plain looking entrance. There weren't too many people inside too - it was perfect for an inconspicuous dinner. He ordered a steaming bowl of ramen before resuming his hunt for the perfect couch.

By the time he finished combing the third street most shops were already pulling their shutters down. Save for one down in the backstreet, right by the traffic junction. He snuck a look at the large wooden sign beside the entrance. Open from 11am - 11pm daily, the sign read. Without a second's thought he stepped over the short latch and welcomed the freezing gush of air into his face. The store was large by normal standards, rivaling that of most shops he had seen earlier, but nowhere near the size of behemoth furniture stores. Racks of sofa rugs and curtains stuck out from their racks like sore thumbs, living room and dining room furniture were mixed together - an armchair was placed beside a kitchen counter, a high back chair set against a maplewood mantlepiece. Not just that, the catalogues were lying all over the place as well. Perhaps because it was already 10.15pm, there was hardly anyone in the store. Gingerly Ichigo toed over some misplaced carton boxes when he heard someone call out from behind him in a loud but friendly voice.

"Sorry sir, but we are in the midst of packing and moving to a bigger location further downtown this weekend. Hope you don't mind the mess!"

Ichigo nodded without turning around. "Is there a moving out sale going on?"

"Well sir, for some yes, for others no. Perhaps you could tell me what you're looking for?"

"Just a sofa. Or a settee. Whichever. There aren't too many differences between the two, right?"

"They do share some similarities. Sir, do you have a budget to work with, or would you like an overview?" the salesman asked, then cast a harried glance at his watch.

Ichigo thought for a while, then nodded. "I don't expect things here to be cheap."

"How about a love seat? Small, and just right. Most of them should fall within your budget. Getting it for your new home, sir?"

"Kinda."

"Newly weds?"

"No way!"

"Sorry, sir. I was only trying to help."

"Maybe you can start by asking less questions," Ichigo muttered with a scowl. A love seat was certainly out of the question. No chance in hell was he going to practise one of their intimate scenes together on a bloody love seat! Then, without warning, a bolt of remembrance for that afternoon's events struck him. His vision began to blur, and his body started to pile on the heat.

"...sir, are you listening? Hello?" the salesman called, eager to bring Ichigo back to earth. He was desperate to knock off on time tonight.

"Uh...yeah, carry on."

"You do look kind of familiar, sir. Now that I take a closer look at you..."

"I just happen to have a common appearance that's all." Ichigo brushed the inquisitive salesman off, and pulled the collar up below his nose. "What were you saying just now?"

The salesman put on a huge smile as he walked Ichigo over to a section where a huge yellow placard indicating "Brand New!" hung from the ceiling. It was the neatest section in the store, and judging by the furniture as they walked down the aisle, they didn't come cheap, nor relatively inexpensive even. Full leather sofas with fur trimmings and exquisite looking stands dotted the floor. Opulent armchairs the shade of royal purple with accommodating arm rests greeted them when they made a right turn. The salesman gestured at them, but Ichigo shook his head, frowned, and walked on. Along the way the salesman made several other recommendations. They were all outright rejected. Finally they came to a khaki brown sofa wrapped in airtight plastic.

"What about this? It was just flown in this afternoon from Tuscany. Upholstered in 100% genuine calf leather. We welcome you to touch it. The calibre speaks for itself. A three-seater with a high, strong back. See its lines. Organic and made for the ultimate comfort experience when reading or simply lounging before the TV. Its seat cushions are soft and supple. The structure is made of seasoned beech and poplar wood - extremely durable, even under pressure. What's more, pull on this hinge and see what happens." He tugged at a brass knob by the side, pulled it out, then pushed it down. "It transforms into a bed! Just add some pillows to it, throw in a quilt, and here comes bedtime. In the morning when you wake up, just do what you did in reverse, and the bed will become a functional sofa again! An ideal complement to the urbanite's apartment. Saves space, looks good. Feels even better."

Ichigo gave the sofa bed an once over. "How much?"

The salesman brandished a handheld black calculator from his back pocket and jammed in a few numbers at sonic speed. "That would be 185,620 yen after tax, sir."

The actor bit his lower lip to silence a gasp. "Before the discount or after?" he asked.

"There's no discount for this, sir. Considering its two-in-one function, and for an item of such excellent workmanship and fine materials, what you, sir, are paying is definitely value for money. It comes with a standard three year warranty, but you can opt to extend it by another three years at a special rate. By the way, would you like to add in some pillows? Maybe a sofa rug?"

Ichigo wanted to kick himself into oblivion. It wasn't that he was a cheapskate bargain hunter out to nab the best deals, but sometimes stretching his yen came as an instinctive move. Without preponderance or forewarning the question just piped up. He suspected Yuzu's self-imposed motto of 'an extra yen saved equates a loftier cushion on rainy days' was embedded in the back of his head too.

"Do you guys do instant delivery?" he asked.

"Yep," the salesman said, fatigue shading his words. "Daytime delivery - 6000 yen. Overnight delivery - 10,000 yen."

"What!"

On Thursday morning Kurosaki Ichigo entered Ulquiorra's house to see him sitting on the newly bought sofa bed. He scrutinized the man's face thoroughly, hoping to catch a strand of indication that the sofa fell within expectations. As usual Ulquiorra stayed as expressive as a stone. A letter was in his hand. Sakana sat on his lap quietly, huge amber eyes scanning lines of words in the letter, as if reading it. Looking at them, Ichigo felt he had made the correct choice. The sofa bed fitted in right away. It was simple and classy too. Something that pricey had to be. More importantly, it was really cushy and ideal for taking naps on lazy afternoons.

"Morning Sakana-chan! And Quiqui!" Ichigo greeted as he dropped his backpack on the floor. He ambled over to the sofa and sank into it with aplomb, startling Ulquiorra. The latter then promptly ignored him and continued to read his letter. Sakana leaped from her owner's lap and settled on an empty space between the two men, her long striped tail curled around her body. She found the new sofa way more comfortable than its predecessor.

"What are you reading this early? Overdue bills?" Ichigo asked.

Ulquiorra pretended not to hear him.

"Fan mail?" Ichigo asked again, peering over Ulquiorra's shoulder.

"No."

"Hate mail then," the carrot top said with a devilish grin. "The haters express themselves really eloquently, don't you think so? They ought to enter their thought provoking essays in one of those literature competitions for newbies."

Ulquiorra didn't look up from his letter. "I do not see them, therefore they do not exist."

"Bullshit. Your principles of existentialism would make the great philosophers of ancient Greece weep rivers."

"What can be seen is what truly can be observed. What cannot be observed with a keen eye remains peripheral to the commonest of sensibilities and simplest of deductive logic."

"All the more I should tear down your bubble walls of materialism and let you see the world for what it is!" Ichigo snatched the letter from Ulquiorra's grip and scanned through the letter quickly before giving it a proper read.

"Hmm...I see. Now I know why you threw yourself in it with such reckless abandon!" his grin grew wider with every sentence.

The letter was from Ulquiorra's mother, and in the first few paragraphs she wrote extensively about the weather in Hakodate and that some relative of theirs was getting hitched to his longtime girlfriend in December. It is going to be a grand event, she wrote. A wedding held in winter is always lovely and a memory to keep forever. All weddings are, unless they end up in divorce, which seems to be the norm these days. Don't head down that path, Quiqui! I have great faith in you.

She also reminded him to find a proper suit, do away with the facial make up for once, attend the ceremony and wedding reception, and not create excuses to avoid showing up. Just like any mother would, she continuously nagged at him to put on more clothes now that winter was approaching. An additional layer of quilt at night would be ideal too.

While you're at it, Mrs Schiffer added, put on more weight, Quiqui. I don't want to see an anorexic piece of skin when you come here in December!

He stopped midway through the letter and cocked his head askance, striking a ponderous stance. He could picture the older Japanese lady flashing knowing winks and tricky smiles when she was composing the letter before a simple writing desk in a room, stopping every now and then to gaze at the autumnal scenery outside the window. It definitely had to be more beautiful than Tokyo's. He had been to Hokkaido with his family when he was younger, and the expanse of lavender fields stretching into the azure skies was something he tended to draw upon when he felt especially nostalgic.

"I wonder how's Mrs Schiffer doing?" Ichigo asked. "Been a week or so since she went back to Hokkaido. Having said that, I never expected you to stay in touch with your mother through old-fashioned snail mail! You really love throwing me off my guard, don't you? What an annoying ass."

Ulquiorra beamed him a lour. "She is fine. Hand that back to me now."

"Here." Ichigo folded the letter into two and returned it to his co-star. "Had I known it's from Mrs Schiffer I wouldn't have read it. Why didn't you say so earlier? Now I look like some ill-mannered punk down the street waiting to crack a few 'Yo Momma' jokes."

The older man took the letter and tucked it back into the brown envelope. "You have just successfully summed yourself up in one sentence."

Ichigo scowled. "I thought it was something funny from one of your lousy Bat Boys affiliation, or someone waiting to diss you like a cheap rag," he said. "Good riddance to them!"

"You cannot undo something you've already done," Ulquiorra replied.

Ichigo shrugged and clumsily muttered a word of apology. He didn't mean to invade his co-star's privacy, but there was no point in crying over spilled milk. Besides, he was famished. He had left his house without having breakfast, and grabbed food from the dining table while hollering goodbyes to his sisters and dodging bear hugs from his father.

He walked over to his backpack and unzipped it. Inside his bag was a daisy blue bundle, scrunched at the top with a simple knot. He took it out and laid it on the coffee table. There were two bento boxes and one Tupperware bowl. He opened the smaller of the two boxes and took two onigiri rice balls with chopped seasoned plum wrapped inside, one in each hand. He stuffed them into his mouth hungrily, swallowed, and took another two. He washed them down with green tea from his thermos flask.

"Are you impoverished in any way? If you are, you ought to know that not everything is within your reach," Ulquiorra spoke suddenly.

"What the heck are you going on about now?" Ichigo muffed between bites.

"Did this cost a lot?" Ulquiorra asked, placing a hand on the sofa bed.

"Barely a dent. And - hear me out. I absolutely did not purchase this piece of whatever."

"As expected, this looks like something only you, Kurosaki Ichigo, would even think of owning."

"Because I'm occupied with my food, I shan't bother with the likes of you. Anyway, there's something for you. Not from me though. It just happened to stow itself in my bundle."

Ulquiorra looked at the assortment of containers on the coffee table. "What is it?"

"Here," the younger actor pushed a bowl-shaped Tupperware into Ulquiorra's hands. "Yuzu made extra sweet shrimp soup last night and wanted to let you have a go at it. She says you're too sour and would do well to invite some sweetness into your banal life. Whatever you do, don't waste food. I have yet to truly forgive you for the sweetcorn incident."

Ulquiorra accepted the container. "Thank your sister on my behalf. But do not force words into her mouth either." He peeled the rubber lid open and the tantalizing aroma attacking his sense of smell proved too much to resist. Without hesitation he spooned some soup into his mouth. He didn't swallow instantly, but let the taste linger in his mouth for a while before flowing down his gullet.

They sat side by side on the sofa, consuming their food in silence. Sakana's soft mews filled the space between them. Normally Ulquiorra enjoyed the quiet peace of his home, and he was even glad that Ichigo had became less of a pain in recent weeks. Well, he still was, to a certain extent. You can't expect a person to change completely in a space of weeks. But his presence was less intolerable than when they first met. Perhaps his foresight was paying dividends - that the younger actor wasn't entirely a lost cause. He thought of his mother back in Hokkaido, and puzzled over her adamant thinking that they were really together. None of that sort. Perhaps his mother was teasing him, as she often loved to. Perhaps...

"Ah...!" Ichigo let out a noisy burp. He patted his tummy, swollen with food. "I can't get no satisfaction. I'm so full that I feel like curling up and take a nice, long nap. Just like what Sakana-chan is doing now." He leisurely ran a hand through the cat's furry coat, earning himself a soft, drowsy mew.

"You will not do that."

"I shall do whatever I want on the sofa bed I bought."

"It belongs to me now."

"Temporarily. Once we get your lousy settee sorted out, this goes back to the Kurosaki house!"

"I have finished the soup."

"Don't try to change the topic. The sofa bed's mine, I'm only loaning it out to you for free on a goodwill basis. Treat it as payment for your three-week long coaching service."

"What comes here stays here." Ulquiorra cast his co-star a pointed glare. "With the exception of you, of course. You are free to go anytime."

"I'm not leaving. I like it here. Anyway, the soup! What do you think of my sister's cooking? Pretty damn great, right?"

Ulquiorra gave a small nod. "Does she always cook this well?"

"It runs in the family. I'm not too bad myself, but Yuzu's really the cherry on the cake," said Ichigo. He jumped up from the sofa and helped himself to a glass of water in the kitchen, then returned to clear the empty containers on the table. He took them to the sink, scrubbed them inside out with dishwashing liquid, and washed them thoroughly. Then he dried them with a kitchen towel and stored them back into the blue bundle, knotted the four corners together and put it beside his backpack.

"Why am I doing all the dirty work for you? This doesn't make sense!" he complained loudly as he eased back into the sofa.

Ulquiorra studied his co-star's features for a moment. "You didn't read that part, did you?" he asked, straining to sound indifferent.

"Huh?"

"The letter. Did you read that part?"

"Which part?" Ichigo blinked. Pink plumes seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and were now clouding his vision. He thought they had gone away at last, but they proved him wrong. "I have no clue which one you are referring to."

"The—" Ulquiorra hesitated, his cheeks taking on a light hue of red. "—part where Mother spoke of caution to be exercised when..."

Ichigo drummed his fingers against the table impatiently. The buildup sounded familiar to him. He was sure he spied the opening lines or the like when he briefly glimpsed the letter. He just didn't read them in detail. "Think I did," he half-fibbed.

"You think you did?" Ulquiorra questioned. "There is no such thing as you think what you have done when an action has already occurred. The answer has to be definite since it is already a thing of the past. Nothing can change that. In a court case, you, Kurosaki Ichigo, would lose even when you are the plaintiff and rightly so. In many other cases you would have lost before the fight even begins."

Ichigo didn't rebuke. He wasn't paying close attention to his co-star's words. Instead he grew abnormally interested in what the undisclosed portion of the letter was. It had to be something worth bringing up and relatively significant to the pale man. If not, why would he speak of it after the storm had died down? Ulquiorra Schiffer wasn't one to address an issue for fun. This was a taciturn man, one who yielded extreme efficiency with his verbal output—not one word more nor a word less. Everything was weighed to devastating proportions before they were released.

"Maybe you can help jog my memory?" he lied further, trying to ride out his luck. "Sometimes I suffer from dementia, as you've said. But now, coming back, I think I really did read that portion of the letter. And if I did manage to scan it through, even only once, it will still be imprinted at the back of my head. The information could stay unlocked there, unless I summon it to the surface. So, although I may be uncertain in my reply to your question, the situation is not as symmetrically divided as a 50-50 basis. Get it, smart ass?"

"Did you or did you not?"

Ichigo's tactic wasn't working, but that didn't take away his desire to comprehend what was going on. Keep it simple. Keep it very simple.

"OK, OK. I did. It's the part where Mrs Schiffer told us to...you know...to..." he said, putting his hands up in a form of mock surrender. He punctuated this with a couple of nods.

Ulquiorra's cheeks further reddened, if only by the smallest of fractions. He wasn't lying when he tried beating about the bush? Or was he?

As if reading the other man's thoughts, Ichigo nodded again. "Yeah, that. Kind of weird, huh. Funny how news travel fast."

Ulquiorra nodded in quick succession too, despite himself. He wasn't thinking straight either; something was clouding his mind. Something soft and took the form of...plumes? Where did they come from, he wondered. Perhaps he would think over it once filming finished. Meeting Ichigo's expectant gaze he recalled what he was supposed to do.

"It said, to be careful with our 'open displays of love'," he recited in a low, monotonous rush, hoping the carrot top would be bored and not catch wind of the exact content.

But Ichigo did. His ears were too sharp to miss them, his brain too intelligent to let slip the meaning wedged between words, even more so when he was primed like an eagle to capture whatever words Ulquiorra had to say. Open displays of love? That sounded like something his father would spew. And from the hours he had chalked up with Mrs Schiffer, that gem of a sentence absolutely came from her. There was no doubt about it. Both their parents had a fondness for cheesy remarks and endearing themselves to humiliating bouts of corniness, often at their children's expense.

He wondered if she was merely making fun of them, or did she, being the woman who mothered Ulquiorra, see something up in the air which nobody noticed. If so, what was it? Could it be synonymous with the pink plumes swirling around his co-star now? Was he a fool for being able to see something that obviously remained invisible to the naked eye? As Ulquiorra often said, what cannot be seen does not exist. Going by that logic, if he could see those enigmatic pink plumes stretching before his very eyes, and translating them into the same meaning as had Mrs Schiffer, something definitely was going on. Something tangible. It had to be. But what was it? Could he prove it? How could someone prove something that is seen by only one person? Things like that are deemed as supernatural, unscientific phenomena. Utterly subjective, speculative at heart, and in short, total nonsense and a waste of everybody's time. Just like those maddening tabloids.

What sort of meaning should he give them? Would it be of any use? Anything which has a meaning too many tends to wind up meaningless. Stranded in an influx of perplexity and stark annoyance, he turned to the plumes and stared hard at them.

You couldn't be anymore confused, the pink plumes seemed to say. You try so hard, but in the end, you can only make so little sense out of it. Try harder. Give it all you've got. Plough through us and see what is obscured. That will be the finality to your constant bewildering outlook on us. Confused much?

He couldn't be anymore confused.

Before nightfall, Ulquiorra ventured they did a repeat of the second lovemaking scene. It would probably be the last session before they move their act from living room to movie set, he said, and yes, they would have to get topless again. This time round it would be more challenging - they had to undress each other as their characters did in the screenplay and novel. As per yesterday, they sat on the sofa and prepared themselves, rehearsing whatever lines they had to recite for the scene. Somehow Ichigo's mind was trapped in a place faraway from Autumn Chrysalis, in god knows where. He knew he shouldn't be playing detective now, but he couldn't stop the questions from plummeting his skull.

"Hey Quiqui," he began.

Ulquiorra did a considerable job of omitting the second word. "We should commence now."

"No wait. Just hang on a second. I'm thinking about something."

"About how you are going to be removed from the movie?"

"No, not that. I'm here to stay, can't you see? I won't let your efforts go to waste," Ichigo smirked. "Anyway, let's set aside the movie for now, and focus on something closer to home."

"What else can you possibly think about?"

Ichigo shushed him. "It's about my pal and your madcap cousin with the pointy comb."

The green eyed man looked at him with great disinterest. "We need to begin no-"

"Don't tell me you haven't wondered about their relationship? It's dubious, I'm telling you! Right from the start, everything's looking shady. Really shady. How did they even know each other? Did we ever introduce them to each other? A loud, resounding no! You don't give a shit about me, neither do I give a rat's ass about you."

Ulquiorra glared at him. "What is your point?"

"Something in the milk ain't clean. I know Renji loves to have fun, but I don't suppose it's that kind of fun. It's kinda lewd, if you catch my drift."

Ulquiorra recalled seeing the two drunk men together in a club, caught in a very compromising position. He was pretty sure those red sores he saw on Renji's chest were inflicted by his cousin. They were fresh and even had traces of dribble around them.

"It was a meeting of coincidences," he said.

"Coincidence my foot - which brings to mind, why did you put them up together in a motel room? And on a single bed too! You're just as suspicious. What's your ulterior motive?"

"It was a king size bed."

Ichigo gave him a reproachful look. "What if...you know. Something could have happened! Maybe it had already happened and then there was an encore! Maybe it had already happened long ago and they were doing a repeat, and back in the room, they did a second telecast. Damn that rotten pineapple. How could he not inform me something of such grave significance? To think we are buddies from school and he's accusing me of doing the dirty deed with you while he gets away scot-free? Over my dead body. And what did I just say-doing the dirty deed with you?" He broke off with an abrupt, flustered laugh. "Double the rage-OK stop me now. My imagination is running away with me again."

Ulquiorra found his co-star's sudden outburst particularly amusing, and said nothing. He knew the carrot top would ramble on with or without intervention, so he chose to sit back and enjoy the spectacle, if only for a short while.

"They were already in that state," Ichigo continued. "I won't be thrown off my rocker if anything were to happen. Anyway, that pineapple doesn't seem to remember a single thing. Maybe he's lying, that sly ass. Whatever. I don't need information from him. I can always sniff it out on my own. OK, OK. I'll quit now. Over to you. Any scoop?"

"Why don't you call them up one by one and interrogate them? I wasn't in the room with them, so naturally I would not know. Neither would I ever wish I did. Besides, I can't see what my eyes can't see, and certainly I don't possess the time and energy to plant CCTVs and check on their nocturnal activities."

"Well...it sort of slipped my mind. Those rumors about us...uh...doing that sort of t-thing are still rampant. I mean, those stuffs are hella annoying! Can't even block them out with the world's best earplugs. They just keep coming back at you like boomerangs. And there's the movie of course! Yeah, the movie. I get all exhausted thinking about dear old Autumn Chrysalis."

A pause on Ulquiorra's side. Slowly, he curled an arm around the younger man's waist, reeling him in. "Are you bothered by it?"

"By what?"

"What you have seen, read and heard, and what I have not."

"A-Am I?" Ichigo chuckled in tones drenched with apprehension. "I was just speculating. It gets pretty boring sometimes, you know. The movie, the movie, and the movie. But don't get me wrong. I'm not skiving. Just letting off some steam, and showing some concern for my pal and extended concern for that crazy tool."

Ulquiorra casually ran his fingers along Ichigo's forearms, feeling each tendon buried beneath the faintly beige-brown skin. It was rather odd, touching him like that, and yet all the more assuring it felt. Much like that particular moment in time whereby rationality and self-preservation were flushed down the sewage pipes, and spontaneity became the order of the day.

"I see. That steam comes across as gossiping like a housewife?" he half-probed.

The carrot top clucked his tongue in displeasure. "Seriously man, don't you ever wonder about your cousin's sexual orientation? He's your family for chrissake. It has to bother you at some point. That said, if I ever see my sisters behaving like that, I'd go ballistic and shake out every tiny little detail from them! Not that they would. Just saying," he said with a shrug.

"Precisely it's because he is family that I do not dig too deep into his personal affairs."

"So, does that mean you are not against the idea of two men together? Or are you just saying this because he's family and essentially you don't give much of a damn? It can't be because you're sparing a thought for the poor guy's feelings, right?" Ichigo asked, shutting his eyes and letting Ulquiorra's smooth, waxen hands shoot up to unbutton his salmon pink shirt. Cool fingers trailed down every naked space parted by the shirt. So this is how it feels to be undressed by him-shit. Concentrate! he scolded himself.

Ulquiorra gave a slight shake of his head. "I do no such thing. My relationship with Grimmjow has nothing to do with what I think of men, women, and their own sexual preferences. Adding to that, none of them are within my control."

Ichigo could feel Ulquiorra's breath on his neck as he spoke. Wisps of air skated across his skin, creating goosebumps. Hairs stood pertly on their ends. His shirt came off the second it was tugged. It slid off his shoulders and fell into a heap at his elbows, revealing his upper body. He shivered when his co-star kissed the crook of his neck. The kiss bore the gentle love Takamatsu had for his friend, ephemeral as a chrysalis in autumn, unmoving yet waiting to burst with life. It left him enthralled, and somewhere deep inside a force tugged at him. Ichigo willed himself to remember this sensation and the emotions breaking through. Emotions that, to his reluctant surprise, he had never quite felt before. He dug his fingers deep into both sides of the sofa, struggling to hold on in this sea of nebula. Curtains billowed restlessly in the wake, stung by the evening breeze. Why did he want more of these? Outside the skies painted a delectable palette of orange and crimson. Ulquiorra kissed his left shoulder and pulled the sleeves down to his wrists, then off of him entirely. The blood coursing through his veins began to feel bizarrely thick and heavy. Birds flitted across the horizon, heading southwards to where the climate was warmer. Not daring to move even an inch, Ichigo could only hold his head high as Ulquiorra briefly rested against him.

"You really don't think it's anything...how should I put it...questionable?" the younger man asked. His arms reached around Ulquiorra, encircling him and indirectly drawing him into an embrace. It seemed like the most natural activity in the world to do, and he couldn't deny the fact that he himself, or the he as his character actually wanted to.

Ulquiorra raised his head and sat up a bit. Light on his face shifted in dizzying angles. "Do you know that when the world was created, Man was originally divided into three genders? Man/man, woman/man, woman/woman. One of the three genders eventually died out, but that was how it began. They had a single head for two faces on each opposite side, and two sets of genitals, and so on. They moved in an upright position, but because of their additional limbs, they gained an advantage over the men of today when it came to running. They had eight, and wheeled themselves over and over like acrobats performing circular maneuvers. Man possessed terrifying powers, and knowing so, they challenged the gods one day. They were punished as a result."

"Did they die?"

"The gods' purpose wasn't to kill them, but to weaken their powers. It was unanimously decided that each and every one of the human race was split into halves. To prevent them from dying, their features were adjusted to the front and sewn together like this." Ulquiorra brought his fingertips from the back of Ichigo's waist to his navel in a straight, unbroken line. "From then on, each half has been running about in search for its other half, longing to throw its arms around each other in an embrace, and to be reintegrated to heal its split in their nature."

"Doesn't this sound a little familiar? I think I've read it somewhere before too, when I was in high school. If I'm not wrong, it was Aristophanes who said this," Ichigo said. Unbeknownst to him, his hands, previously around his co-star's body, was ready to lift up his white tee. His fingers rested teasingly between the hem and Ulquiorra's rock-hard abdomen.

"Yes. Aristophanes, according to Plato, came up with this theory when engaged in a discourse on love."

Ichigo took off Ulquiorra's top and flung it over his own shirt. "Honestly, why would you read such a book when what should be beating here" - he jabbed a finger at Ulquiorra's chest - "is pretty barren?"

"If not for my heart I would not be here now."

"Another one of your intellectual pursuits, Quiqui. Don't you ever do something...normal? You probably think you're too superior for normalcy? Get real."

"Reading is hardly an obscure hobby."

"Aside from Kendo and reading deep books and chatting to Sakana-chan, you can always try to dance up a storm in a local club - like you-know-who and another you-know-who. Or get a girlfriend before you turn as wrinkly as a prune? You're halfway there already. Hey-what's that?" Ichigo wrinkled his nose in Ulquiorra's direction. "Do I smell an odor that only sour corpses emit?"

"You are ruining this."

"I think I'm being helpful," Ichigo rebutted.

"The extent of your delusions is the only trait about you that remains remotely interesting."

"Actually, do you even go dating? Say, go to the movies, eat popcorn, stuff like that. Go up on the ferris wheel. Have dinner in a fancy restaurant. Spray expensive cologne to make yourself smell like roses and wine. Have you ever done any of those?"

"Whom I have personal associations with hardly concerns you."

"Only a fool would buy your words, Ulquiorra bloody Schiffer."

"The truth is not for you to peruse."

"I remember your mom mentioned a girl whom you met in school and exposed you to acting?" Ichigo blissfully bantered on, refusing to give up. "Come on. Look at where you are now! She was the one who introduced you to this world, right? She definitely must mean something to you. She's something like...your genesis."

Ulquiorra said nothing. He lifted his fingers and clasped them firmly around the carrot top's wrist.

"Don't give me that poker face! I know how good an actor you are, Quiqui. You can no longer hide anything from me."

A breezy rush of wind came on the back of silence. Golden curtains clapped more furiously than ever. In less than a blink of an eye Ichigo was pinned on his back - the air knocked out of him with a swoosh, his head sinking into the plushness of the sofa. He took in a deep whiff. There was the smell of freshly culled leather - the kind only brand new sofas emit, and the faint autumnal scent his co-star wore. Pink plumes propped up around him like mushrooms after a rainy morning. The wind momentarily died down. Ulquiorra's hair grazed his neck, and he brushed his fingers through those silky onyx locks, yet again marveling at the softness and at how futile a resistance he was putting up nowadays.

"Just how much did my mother reveal about me?" Ulquiorra asked.

Ichigo flipped him a nonchalant smirk - a smirk that almost reached his co-star's lips. "Enough to make you seem human."

Ulquiorra stared into the distance, his eyes murky with indecipherable flashes of light. Light that gravitated towards the younger man, and in his haste to chase after it he ended up closer to him than ever before.

"We should recite our lines now," he said.

"Jeez. I've been waiting forever to hear that."

A/N: I meant for a quick update, but along the way I was caught up in some travel plans, so...but hey, the chapter was well worth the wait, no? :) All reads and reviews are greatly appreciated. Anyhow I have grand ambitions to get the next chapter underway before the World Cup kicks off. And in that month, I shall try and update regularly. It'll be hard. Really hard.