Disclaimer: The standard applies.
Chapter 25 – Quarter After One
It was halfway through autumn when filming picked up pace.
Scenes were snapped and looked through and snapped and cut off, only for retakes to happen again. While waiting for a change of scene, Ichigo lazed on the chair in the dressing room, reading the latest Unohana Retsu novel and enjoying the solitude, when he spied his green-eyed co-star enter the room, looking nowhere but ahead. A stream of pink plumes trailed behind him, enigmatic as always. Ichigo wanted to call out to him but the words got caught in his throat, like a persistent fish bone wedged and refusing to come unstuck. He pretended to read his book as Ulquiorra ghosted past him, turned a corner and disappeared round the bend, not once acknowledging Ichigo's presence in the room.
Why care, Ichigo reasoned, when he won't even bother. Even if he does, then what? He shook his head inwardly. Impossible. And he had been trying to attain the impossible by scowling less and waving what he hoped had looked like a careless wave of greeting whenever their eyes met. He was ignored. A few times after filming ended for the day, Ichigo even tried to make small talk with Ulquiorra, only to be duly ignored again and again. He felt like a hapless fool who was trying too hard to make things happen, and to be realistic, there was no point in doing that. He hated to fall, and to fall flat on his face without having his co-star so much glance his way pissed him off. Him feeling pissed off made him even more pissed off. He couldn't think of any reasons why that would piss him off either. Once filming wrapped up, they won't see much of each other until the movie premiere. Yeah, why care? Once it's over, they will go their separate ways.
So the actor returned to his book, the part where he was reading bookmarked by his thumb. He couldn't really read anymore but besides reading, there wasn't much he could do. He was about to turn the page when a shadow lingered over the words. Thinking it could be the green-eyed man turning back for a little chat, even knowing that possibility was near impossible, Ichigo still looked up-heart pounding in his chest.
It was Shinji Hirako.
"Ah-look who we have here!" the blonde director called, his grin spread over his face like the shadow over Ichigo's book.
"Don't you have stuff to do?" Ichigo asked, his heartbeat falling back to normal.
Shinji pulled out a chair and sat down. "Great directors need a break too."
At that, Ichigo slanted a look that shouted don't bug me-I'm serious! and continued to read. He felt Shinji glancing in his direction and then at his book, but he refused to give in. The book was good. Critics referred to it as the modern day sequel to Autumn Chrysalis. Ichigo was just starting on the part where the two male characters talked about love in 21st century. As he read, his cheeks heated up. Until today he hadn't an in-depth discussion with anyone or anything (the book included) on this topic. The thought alone made him blush. He read on.
They sat in silence. Eventually Shinji grew tired of studying his fingers and adjusting his striped blue and white tie. There was only so much studying and adjusting he could do. He cleared his throat and rocked his chair a little.
"You know, Vampy Boy," he began, using his favorite nickname for the actor, "about the age old adage-he who is furthest sees clearest?"
Losing the mood to read, Ichigo put his book away and looked squarely at the director. "Yeah. What about it?"
"You sure you really understand?"
"Don't be stupid. Who doesn't?"
Shinji swung back in his seat, arms casually crossed before his chest. "Being the main guy behind the camera, I see many things. I have to. And I see them really clearly. Like a 3D movie. Actors, idiots, lighting, sounds, props, settings, dialogues. But none of them can rival the waves. Those waves." He uncrossed his arms and swept his hands apart, like a conductor introducing his orchestra. "The inspiration behind every filmmaker's desire to create."
"Waves?"
The blonde nodded. "Yep. It's something only directors can see and understand. It's a special gift. Waves of light flocking around people, like some telepathy lines. Like I said, it's special and it takes someone equally special to see it. It may not necessarily be waves all the time. It takes up new forms and changes shape when it comes to different people. Perfectly logical, if you ask me. No two persons have the same set of eyes. But hey-ho, if you ever meet someone who sees the same sort of light as you do...well, that's another story altogether. Even if you have the time to hear me out, I'm not sure if I can explain it. Maybe I need a PhD in this subject or something...hmm..."
Ichigo could only frown. There was no other response to be elicited.
"Ever tried photography? It's that instantaneous feeling of having something on the verge of greatness and brimming with raw emotion. Even when you press the shutter and the shot comes out, its colors flowering before you in full glory, you can't help but think it's awfully real that it must be a fantasy, but in truth, it's more real, much more real than you can imagine."
Ichigo reddened. He couldn't help it. "Like Polaroid shots?" He had no idea where that came from.
"That's quite…" Shinji scratched the bridge of his nose, letting his words linger in the air weightlessly. "Anyway, if you've done some polaroid shooting recently, who's the subject? How did you frame her? Or how did you frame-" the blonde arched a fine brow at Ichigo. "-him?"
"Him?"
"Him as in 'he', as in the general form for people," Shinji explained with a smirk. "From the looks of it, you seem like a people shooter."
"Uh…not really. Just saying," Ichigo fibbed, his ears transforming into ripe tomatoes. "I...I was-"
"Reeeeeeelax. I'm not forcing anything out of you!" Shinji grinned and patted Ichigo's shoulder. He stood up and walked to the door. As if he had forgotten something important, he stopped before the door and spun around.
"You know, Vampy Boy, it's been a while since I last looked forward to anything outside of filmmaking."
"I hear you like jazz?"
"Oh yes I do. Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, naa naa naa naa. But this-what I'm anticipating, is a different kind of swing."
"I don't get you."
"I read the blind items in the local gossip dailies too and most of the time, I'm spot on," said Shinji with a knowing wink. He then turned the brass knob and left the room, whistling a tune as he tracked down the corridor, leaving Ichigo submerged in further confusion.
It was that fast. A week arrived and another week took its place. And so on. Before anyone could realize, time had sped ahead to November, leaving October and its subtle wisp of strangeness far behind. Soon it would be winter, December, Christmas and a brand new year with brand new resolutions to make. Suddenly life became a bullet train and Ichigo wasn't sure if he liked it. He thought he should have gotten used to it by now; it wasn't as if he was new to the entertainment industry. Yet somehow, he was still holding onto October with a quiet desperation. He wished he knew why. One thing he knew for sure: the bitter chill of the movie set was getting to him.
It was practically insane, the temperature. The last time Ichigo managed to de-thaw himself from his chair and stumbled like a heavy-legged snowman across to the thermostat, he saw it plunge to an alarming ten degree celsius. No one else seemed to feel the cold and he didn't want to make it look as if he was whining, much less attempting to hoard his co-star's attention. Staving the chill away as he stood by himself in one flaking corner of the movie studio, he thought of many things that would keep him warm: the movie, the new novel trilogy he purchased recently, Yuzu's shio ramen, a huge bonfire at the beach, his comforter back at home, Hawaii, spring, summer. No matter where they showed up at, somehow, they always circled back to the same point: that one lazy morning where he woke up on the sofa bed, snug and warm, snuggling next to his co-star.
"I'm definitely not thinking of that," said Ichigo.
"Thinking of what?" came a low, quiet voice. It was Ulquiorra. Of course it was Ulquiorra. Ichigo knew that without even thinking. His voice was not the sort he would or maybe, refuse to forget easily, not after hearing the evenly cool pacing in his ear, breathy or monotonous whenever the speaker felt like it.
Ichigo hugged himself. "Just like you to invade my privacy."
The raven haired actor stood beside him, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark grey trench coat. They were alone, everyone else had gone out for lunch.
"Weren't you with them?" he asked.
"I felt like being miserable and hungry and cold and lonely, so here I am." Ichigo could feel a smothering set of emerald eyes on him as he spoke. The intensity seemed to drench his sarcasm, drop by drop. Gathering what was left of him from fighting the cold, he lifted his head and locked gazes with the very man whom he had just kissed deeply and embraced two hours ago. On the set, of course. Then he averted his glance, sharply as though he was caught staring at an object he shouldn't dare trespass.
"You didn't eat?"
The carrot top made a big show out of clattering his teeth and gnashing his jaws. "Frozen," he said.
"All the more it should make sense to leave the studio and head out."
"Nah." Ichigo shook his head stubbornly. "Told you I didn't feel like it."
"You would rather suffer here and be bitter about it."
"So what? It's not like you to be concerned."
Neither spoke for moments after that.
"I should be," Ulquiorra said at last. "I very well could be."
He directed a purposeful look at his co-star, who felt as if someone had set his insides on fire and then poured kerosene all over the burning bits, with a large fan blasting away. Kurosaki Ichigo was hardly feeling OK. The icy wonderland he was standing on suddenly burst into a fiery inferno. Was he biting the chill now or heating up? For a moment he couldn't form a single coherent thought, much less think up a reply. He could only gape like a silly goldfish.
"Whatever you do," Ulquiorra continued in his characteristic cool tone. "Don't impede the production schedule. Kuchiki-san is already displeased with the three week hiatus."
Ichigo pinched himself in the wrist. Snap out of it! He's just speaking in that idiotic, riddled manner as he always does. His forte. It's annoying. Annoying!
"If at any point of filming, you were to revert to that imbecilic fool before the break, I would have you replaced at any cost."
"You?" Ichigo mocked, his wrist hurting from the forceful pinches.
Ulquiorra gave a tiny nod. "To date, however, your job remains protected."
"Whoa. Am I hearing things because my ass is frozen off or did you just somewhat, in your roundabout little way, said something non-negative about me for once?"
"Words have meanings and meanings are subjective."
"Shut up," Ichigo shot back, grinning despite himself. "Quiqui."
Ulquiorra didn't say anything. Slowly and unnoticeably, his feet lifted themselves off the ground, noiseless and quick as a darting shadow, and landed a few spaces away from where they were at. Shifting and shifting, until his own pair of black loafers stood right next to Ichigo's red Converse sneakers. Outside the wind continued to howl and leaves skirted the long driveways, and their shadows overlapped into each other in that wintry film set one fine Wednesday afternoon.
"OK. Cut!" two voices yelled at the same time. A man's and a woman's. Loud, clear, demanding, blonde.
"I say, cut!" the two voices snarled at each other. "Cut!"
"Hey shortie, I'm the director. Guess what that means?" Shinji sneered at his assistant. "I call the shots, get it?" he pointed to his director's chair. "I sit here, therefore I'm in charge."
"Beat it," said Hiyori, waving the clapper rudely in his face. "I get to say what's in my hands."
They went on arguing and counter-arguing and refuting whatever claims each had to yell out, temporarily forgetting what was in front of them. A movie set made to resemble the room of a ryokan inn during the late Edo period. In the middle of tatami mats and sparse lighting and cotton futons with its spread peeled away, were two men wrapped up in each other, dressed in nothing but their blue yukatas.
"That's a cut or what?" Ichigo asked, making sure to limit his lip movements in case the cameras were still rolling.
Ulquiorra returned his question with an empty stare.
"What the hell are they up to now? Can't they hurry up?" Ichigo mouthed into his co-star's long (and fake) raven locks. Some flew below his nose and tickled his nostrils. He held back a sneeze and hurriedly blew the stray pieces of hair away.
"If you have the sense to look before you ask, you would have noticed I'm looking in the opposite direction," Ulquiorra said.
Ichigo's teeth chattered slightly. "Remind me never to ask you anything again."
"Is that a request you're asking of me?"
"Stupid blank-eyed pompous low EQ jerk."
"Are we back to our stipulated word count challenge?" the green eyed actor asked, referring to the onslaught of verbatim they hurled at each other mercilessly in front of the media, who lapped them up hungrily and begged for more.
"Only if you want to."
"You can't win me."
"I've been following the thesaurus religiously every night! And English too. Don't think you're the only one who can speak it with ease. I'm coming right up!"
"What are you going to do when you have, say, in the most unlikely of circumstances, mastered the English language?"
Ichigo found his nose tickled by Ulquiorra's wig again. "Put it to good use!"
"Venturing overseas?"
"Nah, just Japan. I kind of like it here."
Again Ulquiorra slipped into silence, a silence magnified by the surrounding noises, of Shinji and Hiyori arguing, of people trying to break them up, of the clapper being waved loosely in the air, dry wooden clangs sounding together every now and then. Arms around Ichigo, he tightened his hold on him, beckoning the carrot top forward. A tiny, inconspicuous action that couldn't be caught on camera, but the rush of body heat encompassing Ichigo was undeniable. He felt it, so did Ulquiorra.
"Is this part of the script?" asked Ichigo. It was a very snug kind of warmth, not just tingling under his skin, but also kicking up some invisible gear buried somewhere inside him. Not the movie 'him', but the real 'him', living and breathing off the pages. "You sure are one focused bastard, aren't you? Dedicated to this extent..."
The older actor said nothing but continued to hold him tight. Ichigo felt himself blushing to the roots of his hair.
The clapper rang through the air.
"OK stupids, cut!" Hiyori hollered. "Get lost now and see you tomorrow at 5.30am!"
Ears aflame, Ichigo sprang up and half-shoved his co-star off him, quickly stepped into his shoes and disappeared into the dressing room, leaving a certain raven haired actor seated on the tatami mat, staring into space.
"Your fingernails were turning purple," he mumbled once Ichigo was out of earshot.
When Inoue Orihime walked into the movie set two days later with a specially bundled lunch box in her hands, she was welcomed by a roving pack of reporters hovering outside the studio, snooping around for whiffs of gossip as their blind items. She smiled and waved for the cameras before sneaking in through the back door with the help of her minders-tall brutes with clean shaven heads and adorned in black and white suits.
Ichigo didn't know of her visit; no one had informed him and her appearance had him no less surprised than the others.
"I-Inoue?" he squawked. He was in full performance mode, hair, make-up, clothes, everything. He was ready to fall in love with his co-star when the cameras rolled and suddenly he had to discard that persona and switch over to another role: the boyfriend of Inoue Orihime. It wasn't fun at all. He had planned on chatting with Ulquiorra a little too. He could feel the ice melting between them again, as if they were gradually returning to the almost-friendly camaraderie in Ulquiorra's penthouse suite, as if they could use those three weeks as a foundation to layer their relationship.
"Kurosaki-kun," she replied, smiling and latching onto her fake beau's arm. "Hope I didn't intrude on your work."
Ichigo eked out a grin. There were people around. "Of course not. What's up?"
"How's everything?"
"Not worth breaking a sweat over."
Orihime leaned into him and stood on her toes. "They told me to come over," she whispered into his ear.
Ichigo nodded. "Someone wants to sell more magazines," he mouthed back.
"You look famished, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime remarked. The soles of her ballet flats were one with the floor again.
"Came out in a rush as usual," Ichigo said sheepishly. "Kinda hungry, now that you mention it."
"I don't ever recall having this woman partaking in a role of any sort on Autumn Chrysalis," said Ulquiorra. He was coming through the door with his script in hand when he saw them huddled close together.
"She's with me!" Ichigo snapped.
"Ulquiorra-kun," said Orihime, bowing slightly before turning to the carrot top. "I was at this confectionary at Ginza yesterday afternoon and had the most scrumptious high tea. The scones, the muffins, the tea jam, vanilla tea. Everything was so great. We should head there for the weekend, if you're available."
"Ey, Vampy Boy," Shinji nudged him as he walked by, stopping to eavesdrop on them. "Your girl here is pretty brazen. Asking you out in front of everyone."
"Err…" Ichigo didn't know what to say.
"It's OK if you can't make it. I understand. But, because I was so inspired by the delicacies, I bought a recipe book and tried my hand at a few this morning." Orihime peeled back the kimono-styled bundle and opened the box. In it were butter cookies and snack-sized chocolate banana muffins and fruit jam tarts toasted around the edges. Arranged daintily on three circular drawers of containers, they wouldn't look an inch out of place in a high class tea lounge.
Ichigo peeked into the box. "You sure it's edible?" he asked, to the laughter of everyone in the vicinity. All except Ulquiorra who had trooped off into a corner of the set, eyeing the couple with a gaze that seemed indecipherable to any outsider.
"Kidding," Ichigo grinned. "They look pretty good." He took the most toasted piece of fruit jam tart and threw it into his mouth. He would rather have a burnt tart in his tummy than an unevenly baked piece of dough.
Orihime passed the box around, going from person to person, her smile ever disaffecting, prompting remarks of her compatibility with Ichigo, how they were meant to be, his suave yet fiercely loyal devil-may-care attitude complementing her sweet, selfless character. Words that had no place in Ulquiorra's dictionary, much less his brain and his heart. He supposed his brain might contract as a result of prolonged exposure to such an environment, he, however, he hadn't expected his heart to constrict too. The more he watched them together and hearing what others thought of them, the more nauseated he felt. Maybe he needed air. All he could see was her smiling, him scowling then grinning, her holding onto him and whispering into his ear, him gazing into her eyes, a clean, happy couple in the prime of their youth, her eager to spread news of their love, him behaving nonchalantly about it. Ulquiorra really needed air. Lots and lots of fresh air, far away from being cooped up in this movie set, what with its dim lighting and constant spotlight blaring in his face, a face devoid of the usual streaks running from his eyes to the slopes of his cheeks. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable in a while. He needed to get out.
"Ulquiorra-kun, won't you have one?" Orihime broke in.
Without even looking her in the eye, Ulquiorra Schiffer sidestepped her and left the movie set.
"Here you are," Ichigo said in an accusatory tone. He was huffing from running about the large movie park. "Everyone was wondering where the hell you vanished to."
Ulquiorra cranked open the lid and held the can of green tea to his lips. Cool vapor hovered above them, not once touching. They were at a small park two blocks away from Studio Three, which also housed several of the sets for Autumn Chrysalis. Ulquiorra was sitting on a stone bench, watching a babbling brook flow into a koi pond when he spied a vending machine and fished some loose change for a drink.
"What's wrong with you?" Ichigo asked. "After being rude to a girl, you skulk off and hide here. How nice. Of course I know-you are Ulquiorra Schiffer. No one is better than your kind. But she's a girl and she worked really hard on the cookies."
"Man, woman. They are the same."
"Anatomically, no."
"I need to drink my tea."
The green eyed man swirled the contents in the can, unblinking, as if deep in thought. He was about to take a calculated sip when he decided not to at the final second. He didn't feel like drinking green tea suddenly. Moreover the tea was cold, chilled from the vending machine. He didn't need anything cold, not especially now.
"There is tea inside. Plenty of tea to go around. Warm tea too."
Ulquiorra continued to swirl his tea. A few koi fish swam close to the surface, eager for some sun. He watched them, counting the number of fish sunning themselves in his head. He saw Ichigo's shadow short under the three o' clock afternoon sun. It stood a short distance away from his own.
"Back to ignoring me?" Ichigo questioned. He was getting more and more impatient with the puzzle that was Ulquiorra Schiffer. After days of being ignored, the pale man suddenly appeared next to him on the set and shuffled closer and closer to him. Then he was ignored again, after which, he was embraced so warmly. And now, was the pattern starting to stick?
"If you say so."
"If I say so?" the younger actor said, volume raising with every word. "What's with this odd silence and half-assed reply? Your tongue got pulled out by Sakana-chan?"
"If that is all you have to say, you can leave."
"I'm not leaving, idiot."
Ulquiorra glared at him. "You can have your scones. I shall have my tea. Is that an issue with you?"
"How did you figure that out? Yeah, I do have some issues with you."
"I have nothing to comment on your acting."
"I'm not talking about that."
"What else can you be capable of?"
"Is that what you think of me?"
"I do not think of anything with regards to you."
"I don't get it. One moment I'm inside the barrier, the other moment I'm left outside. What's what? When I'm inside, actually I'm just outside? Or am I straying further and further away from the core?"
Ulquiorra stopped spinning the can with his fingers. The contents swirled to a stop. He lowered the can from his lips. "You confuse others at the risk of confusing yourself," he replied.
"Confused? I'm not confused. If anything, it's your stinking behavior that's confusing me!"
"What are you insinuating?"
"Don't go all ignorant on me."
Ulquiorra stood up from the bench and looked squarely at Ichigo. "I am heading back to the studio."
"I know you know. Feigning ignorance is what you do best, Ulquiorra Schiffer. It's as clear as day! Barely six or seven weeks ago we were on pretty good terms with each other, OK, not the best of pals, but still passable. And what's the deal with holding me so tightly two days ago? I swear it wasn't in the script or anything we've agreed beforehand. Right, I was cold. You saw it. You could have asked for the two noisy blondes to shove it and left me to freeze till I go into hypothermia. But you held me so tightly as if you…" he couldn't go on anymore. What did he want to say anyway? That he thought, in a flash of giddiness and disbelief, the raven haired man actually cared for him in some capacity?
"You were hallucinating."
"That's right. I must be. You're strange, Ulquiorra Schiffer. From day one of our meeting till now, you just want to mess me up, don't you? Bring me up, and take me down. For your own enjoyment?"
"I cannot change your mind, but if you insist on me being the root cause of your personal problems and the suffocation of your barely existent talent, then you are weaker than I could ever give you credit for."
"Why did you even pass me the keys to your place back then?"
"You were dire."
Ichigo inhaled deeply and exhaled. He did this for five seconds. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. "I didn't come here to pick a fight," he said. "I just want to find out something." He inhaled and exhaled again, the air temporarily trapped in his lungs. He didn't know why but he badly wanted to mention the abrupt kiss Ulquiorra initiated that night when his palm was slit by a broken plate. He didn't, as if the thought of him mentioning it would be forever condemned to non-existence, its false truth affirmed and reaffirmed by the man who did it. He couldn't let the balloon of air flee his lungs. He swallowed hard and forced this air somewhere else, pushing it down to the dregs of his heart until it was compressed to nothingness.
"If you wish to know something, here's one," said Ulquiorra. "That we are actors enacting a story and no more." He tossed the can of green tea into a bin. The can sailed to the bottom and landed with a heavy thud.
A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you so much for reading and bearing with my tardiness! Love the reviews and the fact that you would see to the end of this story. I can only hope I didn't disappoint. The bad thing about this chapter I suppose, is its dampening ending. Anyway, I'm having tons of fun doing this. Hope it's the same for you. Ho! Ho! Ho!