A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! After 3 - 4 years of epic procrastination, this is the first of two-three chapters I've always wanted to write for this pairing. I'm working on the next chapter now and hope to get it up within the next month. :) Warning: this chapter's wordy!

[Edit on 19 Apr 2017: I rewrote a large part of Chapter 29 (especially the last section) to make the story flow better (given the edits I made to the last scene in Chapter 28). If you don't find it too bothersome, please read Chapters 28 (the last section) and then 29, so that it doesn't become too confusing for you when I upload Chapter 30 soon.

Just FYI: I've also cross-posted this fic on AO3. I've been going back to the previous chapters to get a better handle on what is to come, and at the same time edited parts of the story which irked me upon re-reading. It's mostly just editorial tweaks, nothing major. It's listed under the same pen name and title (of course!). For some (obvious) reason, this site doesn't allow me to post the full URL here.

Disclaimer: The standard applies.

CHAPTER 29

MAGIC IN YOUR EYES

"You should never have brought that woman to the set."

These words reverberated in Ichigo's mind for several nights after he last spoke with his co-star at the parking lot.

Of course Ichigo knew who the raven was referring to, but what exactly did Ulquiorra mean by that? Was Ulquiorra unhappy that the movie set had been breached by an outsider, much akin to the dissatisfaction he had shown Ichigo at the initial stages of the production? Was Ulquiorra blaming Ichigo for his so-called misdemeanor on the set—and if so, if no one found anything wrong with the filming, then there was nothing to worry about, right?

That was the logical flow of things, Ichigo told himself as he struggled to fall asleep night after night. Ulquiorra Schiffer was just being difficult for not sticking to the script in his head. Not to mention his alarming lack of common sense—who in their right mind would wait in a dimly lit place in the beginnings of winter? What if Ichigo never turned up? Would Ulquiorra just wait it out like the idiot he was? What was he thinking? Did he forget about a vicious killer called Hypothermia, who boasted a high body count? And instead of wrapping himself in a thick coat, he chose to re-adjust Ichigo's scarf.

If Ulquiorra was an idiot, then Ichigo had to be a bigger idiot for losing sleep over this crap.

And yet, despite the criticism strewn at himself, Ichigo couldn't understand it at all. He couldn't understand why Ulquiorra wouldn't leave him be, when Ichigo himself wanted to distance him from the raven. And Ichigo needed sleep. But when he finally managed to sleep, Ulquiorra Schiffer appeared in his dreams.

Principal photography for 'Autumn Chrysalis' was completed three weeks after the night when Ulquiorra Schiffer gathered all his wits and trampled upon his ego with all intention to apologise for something he had sort of regretted doing. The words he'd meant to say never left his lips, even though the intent was there, or so Ulquiorra had convinced himself. The intent to apologise started off poorly, and he ended up saying too much, but in his very honest opinion, things didn't end too badly. Because, at last, his co-star was behaving more normally around him and not dodging his approaches at the slightest chance. Or perhaps, that was a falsehood, and Ichigo was willing to do anything just to get home at the tiniest chance. Whichever it might be, Ulquiorra ended up with a persistent bout of flu. It left him bedridden and incoherent for at least three days.

So, for the first time in his life, Ulquiorra found himself caught in a nightmarish kaleidoscope where he became different persons, twisting his appearance and quirky behaviours into the people who surrounded Ichigo — namely a certain Inoue Orihime.

On restless nights as Ulquiorra lay at rest from the flu, he pictured the words Orihime would say to Ichigo in his own monotonous voice, and the response he might evoke from the younger man. On other nights he saw himself as Abarai Renji and mimicked in his mind the boisterous redhead's crude and direct language churning from his own thin lips. As the nights pressed on, he imagined himself as the actress (whose name he didn't bother to find out) fawning over Ichigo in the vampire-human romance trilogy, his impassive green eyes adorned with little hearts as the object of his affections appeared in a Dracula getup amid swathes of pink plumes.

In the mornings following these outlandish thoughts, Ulquiorra woke up feeling as though he had been punched in the throat repeatedly. Needless to say that following his delusion-fraught recovery from the flu, he wasn't the most sprightly person to deal with on the set thereafter, shrinking into a more tedious version of his usual sullen self once the cameras were off. When in the privacy of his own trailer, he practised lines — not for the movie, but what he would say when (if) he ran into Ichigo in the studio. Should he aim for a more casual Hey there! type of wave typical of the younger star and his brood, or the usual cool greeting carelessly thrown out as he breeze past without once looking up? Now that nightfall was no longer playing tricks on his mind, Ulquiorra bristled at the thought of him speaking in someone else's voice.

Absolutely impossible.

Once he looked himself in the mirror and attempted to push back his fringe for a different look. He was speechless at his own reflection and swore never to do such a thing again. Regardless, the green eyed actor would try to be less caustic and be more sincere in his words. He would aim for more directness and less prancing about the bush. If possible, he could even try for a touch of humour, since that was Ichigo's type of thing — hang on, was he trying to please the younger man?

Of course, these were just thoughts, unspoken and hidden in the chasms of one's excessive imagination, and Ulquiorra didn't yet have the chance to try them out. He hadn't seen Ichigo for nearly two weeks now — they were each busy with filming their scenes with the Choshu clan and the Shinsengumi, respectively.

On that thought, Ulquiorra Schiffer mulled it over for the next couple of nights as he sipped tea with Sakana curled up next to him on the settee. His cat had grown as fond of the settee as he did, eschewing the comfort of his study to read in the living room ever since the furniture was purchased by a certain carrot top. His copy of the latest Unohana Retsu novel had been lying untouched on the side table. At the turn of every page he found his mind wandering back to the carrot top with fire in his hazel eyes, the heated gaze sometimes burning his own as they met; other times a soft flame lighting the darkest of nights. Ulquiorra was like a moth drawn to that soft flame, craving the light and warmth it brought.

In three months he would be leaving for a country on the other side of the Pacific Ocean without knowing if he would return, and yet, America felt like the furthest thing on his mind.

Ichigo had been busy when he wasn't filming. As the production schedule wound down while December trickled in, he found himself spending mornings and nights popping in DVD after DVD of Ulquiorra's movies, watching them in the privacy of his room. He had snuck them in from the living room when no one was at home. One of the few perks associated with his job — he had free time when everyone else was whittling away at their day jobs or stuck in school. Ichigo had no clue what suddenly came over him to want to watch all of his talented co-star's films, and if he had purely wanted to do some homework, he would have done it long ago. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the final lap of shooting. Maybe it was the insane boredom that came after the adrenaline rush of putting in his best performances for the silver screen. Because, what else could explain the fact that he had watched each film at least thrice?

The first time he alternated between thrill at the dense and intriguing storylines his co-star had chosen, and awe at how smoothly Ulquiorra had disappeared into his characters. He couldn't keep his eyes off the screen either: the quiet man had such an imposing screen presence, that every frame he was in simply implored you to surrender your full attention.

The second time he began to take notes: pacing, dialogue, delivery, intonation, movement, and other techniques that Ulquiorra cleverly employed before the screen. Techniques that the green-eyed actor had unexpectedly taught him during those unforgettable three weeks. Ichigo had an acting coach for his first couple of movies and he had learnt a bit — but to be relentlessly trained by undoubtedly one of Japan's finest actors on an individual basis had opened his eyes to the endless possibilities of bringing a character to life, not to mention the sheer amount of hard work involved. For the first time in his budding career, he felt he had gained some sort of credibility to his name. Ichigo was pretty sure that he had stepped foot on the first rung of the ladder to reach Ulquiorra, at least, in terms of acting prowess.

The third time he was reduced to counting the number of possibly intimate moments that Ulquiorra shared with his co-stars onscreen. No matter how he paused and stared and scooted close up to the screen and continued staring, there was nothing of note. The closest contact he had with anyone in the movies was in the form of a half-hearted hug displayed by the sociopathic anti-hero he played in the film that propelled him to fame three years ago. Ichigo paused the scene and frowned at his own reflection in the black of the screen.

Did that mean he had taken Ulquiorra's first onscreen kiss? Or maybe, knowing how indifferent his co-star was toward everyone in real life, he had unintentionally snatched away the man's first ever kiss when their lips accidentally touched during the Sweetcorn Incident? But why him, Kurosaki Ichigo, a complete stranger turned human sandbag turned remotely adequate actor?

Possibilities and their countless combinations raced through Ichigo's mind as he dived headlong onto his bed and buried himself under the blanket. In the darkened privacy of his blanket, Ichigo traced a quivering finger along the outline of his lips. He could still remember the softness of his co-star's lips and how they filled his own so easily, so naturally, and left him so wanting, as though he could never kiss anyone again.

The confusion Ichigo felt towards his green-eyed co-star continued to ripple into his dreams. To put it more accurately, his dreams felt like an extension of each dream before it, with no clear ending in sight.

His dreams all began at the same place: a strange setting where pastel pink plumes loomed around a deserted cave that rested on the edge of a cliff. In these dreams Ichigo was always sitting on a chair carved from grey slate, placed at a distance from the entrance of the cave. From where he sat, he was close enough to spot any movement in and out of the cave. Time passed fluidly in the dreams, and his senses informed that he had been watching the cave entrance for several days, weeks, months even. In each dream, Ichigo found himself drifting nearer and nearer to the cave, as if carried forward by the currents of time. And then one night, Ichigo found himself inside the cave.

Wandering through the stalactite filled cavern, he came to a resting point where the same plumes gathered in dense clouds. Hidden behind the plumes was a man whose eyes were pools of green so brilliant that they lit up the dark. His skin was pale, bordering on white, and he had long black hair pulled up into a ponytail. Clad in the trademark light blue haori of the Shinsengumi, the man stood there unmoving, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

Takamatsu? Ichigo heard himself ask.

The green eyed man didn't say anything. He reached for Ichigo through the plumes to pull him into an embrace. As if bounded by a force of nature, their lips met and for a long time, at least in the dream, they stayed that way. When Ichigo's hands searched the lines of the man's face, he felt with a start, as the layers of the man's painfully pale face fell away like the last blossoms of spring.

Ulquiorra was supposed to depart for Hokkaido that weekend for a cousin's wedding, but his mother had called two nights ago, saying in a weepy voice that the wedding was postponed until further notice.

"I guess they aren't marrying each other anymore," Mrs Schiffer added as an afterthought. "What a pity! Your cousin and her boyfriend were high school sweethearts and the perfect match in every way."

"Would you still be expecting me in Hokkaido for the new year?" Ulquiorra asked instead, unperturbed by the fact that there was no wedding to be held.

"It's fine, Quiqui. I'll come find you in spring before you leave for the States," his mother said. "Since your Uncle and Aunt Jeagerjacques are still coming over, we have made plans to drive around Hokkaido in search of the best Alaskan crabs for our little new year's feast."

"Can I still come over this weekend? It is Christmas after all."

"What is a woman to do when her son wants to see her? I'll be waiting with piping hot food to stave off the Hokkaido chill," Mrs Schiffer said in a sing-song tune before changing into that near gossipy tone mothers always use whenever they want to pry something out of their children. "So, how are things between you two?"

"You mean Sakana and I?"

Mrs Schiffer chortled. "Don't play the fool with me, Quiqui. I'm your mother, not one of those naive reporters you twirl around your little finger."

Ulquiorra grimaced slightly, his grip tightening on the receiver. There was no worming out of this.

"He—We are fine." That was true.

His mother gave a noncommittal snort over the phone.

"He—We did not have time to meet recently." That was also true.

A prolonged wave of silence fell over them before his mother launched into a barrage of accusations.

"Are you saying things have cooled off between Ichi-kun and you? How can you be so irresponsible? I didn't raise you to be like this!"

The green eyed man thought for a moment that his mother sounded furious with him.

"You'd better do something about it, Ulquiorra Schiffer." Mrs Schiffer pressed on. "That fine young gent is one hell of a catch. Don't be —"

"Mother, we are just busy with filming," Ulquiorra cut in. "We barely have enough time for rest."

Ulquiorra had no idea why he continued to indulge his mother in this falsehood. He was just glad that it wasn't a face-to-face conversation with the ever observant lady of fifty-four years.

"That's complete nonsense! He can always sleep over at your place, or you at his! Do something together — eat, chat, even fall asleep watching the TV together! I'm sure you two should be very comfortable with each other by now. Being busy and having no time for each other is just an excuse for those who can't be bothered to try anymore. Not making the time and effort for each other is the biggest problem, and I don't want that to happen to the both of you as well."

Not making the time and effort? Ulquiorra perused the words in the back of his mind. Can't be bothered to try? If only Mother had seen me at the parking lot that night…

"That's why your cousin wanted out of the marriage. It's such a pity," the elder Schiffer lamented. "They were each other's first loves but in the end they just got too complacent in the relationship, putting off what's important to the very end, thinking that the other person will accommodate their wishes no matter what.

"Her ex-fiance is such a workaholic, so she always has to meet him late at night for a quick dinner, or early on Sunday mornings before he leaves for business trips. When you're young and have time on your side, everything looks rosy and you just have this feeling that this kind of love is enough to last your entire lives. You're so happy with him around. You think you can change him, and he promises to change. In the end she didn't want to be stuck in a loveless marriage where the guy's definition of 'love' is spending maximum hours at work and the bare minimum at home. They don't even talk much anymore! That's easily a red flag for any failing relationship. You hear that, Ulquiorra Schiffer?"

"Since she saw the end coming, why did she wait until now to terminate their relationship?"

"If only things were that simple," Mrs Schiffer explained. "A dying relationship is like a couple stuck in a vehicle that wouldn't move. You get off the car and try to get it moving again with every last bit of strength you've got, only to find after a heaving push that your partner is dozing off in the front seat. You start asking, why should I do all the work and get nothing out of it?"

"That is a logical query."

Mrs Schiffer couldn't help but laugh at her son's remark.

"Well," she continued, "sometimes people don't even know that they have lost what was between them. You can't chase back feelings that were already gone. Perhaps the wedding forced your cousin to think more clearly about their situation, that they were just going through the motions of being in a relationship, and the next step is just to get married and have kids."

Confusion plagued Ulquiorra's mind. Since he was a teen he had disliked such talk. When people chirped about their infatuations in school, he shunned them by either plugging into his music player or left the room altogether. He didn't care for chocolates or letters left in his locker. He flatly turned down all confessions. All he knew that feelings for another person were a strange thing to have. They make you irrational, illogical. They cause your temperament to swing more wildly than the change of tides. They turn people into bizarre and imperceptible creatures who would do anything just to get their loved one to look at them; to do things that have never crossed their minds in their desperation to stay within their beloved's orbit.

And yet, he had been meaning to ask a question for the longest time, since the night when he was ensnared in a rare moment of weakness and kissed his co-star on the lips. He didn't have the guts to mention it, or rather, he was too ignorant to understand what transpired back then.

If anything, Ulquiorra was grateful that the younger man hadn't mentioned it anymore after his initial stuttering the next day, be it out of embarrassment or something he wished had never happened. Perhaps Ichigo had recalled the stunned silence between the two right after the incident, and decided to give themselves both a break. Still, that didn't stop Ulquiorra from replaying the entire event in his mind like a broken tape. He was becoming strange; incoherent even, no—make that strange and incoherent, that toxic combination much akin to a malady afflicting wretchedly irrational souls.

Mrs Schiffer's voice came back into focus.

"When you have feelings for someone, you don't think clearly anymore. All you want is to be with the other person. Sometimes you get swept up in the moment and just go with the flow."

"But such behaviour begets only mistakes," Ulquiorra heard himself say.

"Definitely, but we need mistakes to grow, Quiqui. If you're so guarded all the time, how are you going to let the most important people in?" Mrs Schiffer released a soft sigh. "I know what you are thinking right now, my silly child. Just speak your mind, there's only you and me here."

Ulquiorra felt a rare tingle in his senses. He had read before in a book that man could separately or simultaneously experience three kinds of love — of lust, passion and dedication. But that wasn't enough. Those vague words meant nothing to him; they couldn't possibly decipher the torrent of complexities coursing through his veins night after night. He needed an answer, a definitive one — something simple and clear-cut so he could refer to it by heart whenever he ran into a dead-end. Most of all, he needed an answer now.

"What is it like to have feelings for someone?" he asked quietly.

"You mean, how do you know if you're in love?"

"That word is too far of a stretch for me."

Mrs Schiffer sighed softly again. "You're looking at it all wrong, silly boy. Having feelings alone is not love, but rather, love is a whole bundle of feelings you can't escape from. Sometimes you feel giddy about it, sometimes a jolt of electricity tingling down your spine, and sometimes, a calm, simple happiness you get just by walking beside him. It's so nice to hold hands when you walk with him, and your hands become warm and rosy.

"But sometimes you get so mad, you wish that you've never chosen him. Sometimes you just want to break off and move on, and sometimes you can't help but feel so sad because you had thought of giving up. But no matter what you do, that person always comes to your mind. The good and the bad, the joy and the sorrow and even the rage. It's only natural to feel these strong emotions when you love someone. But at the end of it, there's always warmth. You always feel warm when you think of that person. That's how you know you truly love someone, even after they're gone."

Ulquiorra studied his free hand and the lines running across his palm. "How do you know if you have these…feelings? How can you even tell if they are real when you cannot see them? Do you have a definition that you abide by?"

"Because the heart always wins in the end."

Ulquiorra sank back onto the settee, not realising that he had been sitting on the edge of the seat as the conversation with his mother wore on. His left hand was gripping the receiver more tightly than he'd imagined. He could hear what she was saying, he could hear the questions continue to swirl around her words, but he just couldn't fathom what it was like to love someone.

Ichigo was exhausted each time he awoke from those dreams.

Just where was his mind going now? Filming was set to end soon and he had to dream about Takamatsu Soujiro, Ulquiorra's onscreen character? Or was he dreaming about Ulquiorra dressed up as a Shinsengumi warrior? Was Ichigo under some sort of spell? Think about it—why else would Ulquiorra occupy every inch of his mind, awake or asleep?

Frustrated, Ichigo tried to switch his mind away from all things Ulquiorra, only to start on another movie of his. Eight movies in three years, and Ulquiorra was the lead in five of them. Does that man ever stop for a break, Ichigo wondered. If he keeps up with this punishing pace, he's going to burn out sooner or later.

Even in the movies Ichigo watched, those blasted pink plumes still emanated from Ulquiorra at the most inappropriate times, heightening his vulnerability toward the simplest of onscreen actions performed by the green eyed man. Of course Ulquiorra was utterly convincing in every role he had played, and his role in Autumn Chrysalis was no different. The older man would make sure that he never confused the characters he played with his own self.

So Ichigo, granted that the movie was his debut in such a serious and demanding role, must had gotten some things mixed up along the way—that these odd pangs keeping him up at night and driving him to do stupid things were merely residual of the undying love he had for Takamatsu. He had exhausted his stable of available and imagined emotions to help him prepare for his role.

That must be it.

Ichigo had no other explanation for feeling this way towards a person, what more a man whose callous demeanour had driven him nuts barely four months ago. A man who couldn't be any more different from him, and yet, a man who unceremoniously welcomed him into his taciturn life that many would die just to catch a glimpse of it.

Carefully, Ichigo reached for a blue box under his bed and pulled out a photo album. In it were mostly photos of his family and friends from childhood to high school. He thumbed through the pages quickly to land at the second last page. Looking back at him were the copious polaroid shots he had snapped in the final week at Ulquiorra's loft, with or without the latter's permission. Shots of him posing with different parts of his co-star's living room; with the adorable Sakana; with Ulquiorra; of Ulquiorra; and of their shoulders touching due to the narrow perspective of the instant film. Ichigo was always grinning. Ulquiorra looking ever so impassive at taking informal shots while Sakana stared curiously at everywhere but the camera.

Then there was one—Ichigo had pushed the button just as his unsuspecting co-star looked into the camera, his typically frosty jade gaze briefly replaced by an uncharacteristic tenderness. If he wasn't imagining things, it was the same tenderness that flitted through Ulquiorra's eyes when he adjusted Ichigo's scarf at the empty studio parking lot.

At that moment he remembered what Ulquiorra had said about Aristophanes and how everyone in the world spent their entire lives looking for their other half in order to feel whole again. Ichigo recalled how snug Ulquiorra had felt in his arms when he said those words. Their actions might be feigned, but what Ulquiorra said wasn't lifted from any script. Those words belonged to the raven himself. At that, Ichigo felt a light sensation rising from the pits of his stomach as he removed the Polaroid from the album and slid it into his wallet. He didn't know why he did that, but he knew he had never felt like this before.

After a morning of poring through the two scenes scheduled for reshoots before the year-end festivities, Ichigo headed downstairs to grab a glass of water when the aping shadow of his father loomed behind him.

"Son!" Kurosaki Isshin boomed. "Are you bringing home your beautiful lover this New Year's eve for our annual Kurosaki feast?"

Ichigo nearly fell down the stairs. "What the hell, old man!" he yelled back. "I almost died!"

The elder Kurosaki conveniently ignored his son's cries and dashed toward him with open arms. "Make sure he stays the night, and then when the new year rolls in, the two of you will be always together! It is a good luck spell, Ichigoooo!"

"You're nuts!" Ichigo hollered, fending off his father's crushing bear hug. "You need to go see a doctor now!"

"I am a doctor!"

His sisters popped up at the rear end of the stair case. "Ichi-nii, are you inviting Ulquiorra-san over for dinner?" Yuzu asked sweetly. Her question was immediately chorused by the other two Kurosakis.

The carrot top felt his face redden at the mention of his co-star's name. "I…I don't know!" he couldn't stop himself from yelling again. "Why do you want him for our new year dinner!"

"Didn't you say that he's free to come by for dinner anytime? We haven't seen him since that time he brought his ginger cat here!" Karin demanded hotly. "Ichi-nii, you are not keeping your promise!"

Ichigo was flabbergasted; he was caught in a pincer attack by his very own family, who obviously preferred the object of his confusion and intermittent blushes to him, the eldest child in the Kurosaki household.

"Ichi-nii, why are you so shy about it?" Yuzu pondered.

"I'm not!"

"Like hell you aren't," Karin retorted. "You know, Ichi-nii, you should show us your wallet."

Ichigo stiffened.

Shit.

"Karin saw you put a photo into your wallet after smiling at it nonstop," Yuzu said.

"S-since when!" Ichigo stammered.

"About two or three days ago?" Yuzu answered innocently. "Karin says it belongs to Ul—mm mm…" the rest of Yuzu's words were muffled by her brother's hand clamped over her mouth.

"What do you guys want!" the carrot top proffered an accusing finger in his family's faces. "Why are you all ganging up on me suddenly!"

"We are concerned for your negligible love life, my son!" Isshin cried, waterfalls pouring out of his eyes. "We are trying to help you!"

"There's a possibility of Ulquiorra-san displaying some personal interest in you, Ichi-nii," Karin added. "Remember I told you all about the DVDs of your crappy movie he bought on the sly!"

"That doesn't mean anything! For all you know he could be buying the discs to use as coasters or for shuriken training!"

"I doubt he's that type of person, Ichi-nii," Karin argued while her fraternal twin sister nodded fervently.

"You don't know anything about him!"

"Oh I'd do anything to have a superior son-in-law like the great Ulquiorra Schiffer!"

"SON-IN-LAW?" Ichigo squawked in disbelief.

"If you don't invite him over, we can't be sure Ulquiorra-san won't hear of this." Karin held up her brother's brown leather wallet for everyone to see. In the blink of an eye the budding junior girls' team footballer had dashed into Ichigo's room and swiped it. Panicking, Ichigo removed his hand from Yuzu's mouth and made a free grab for his wallet. Of course he failed. Karin wasn't ranked the junior high tournament's best goalkeeper for nothing.

"And you're threatening me now!" Ichigo scowled in defeat.

"Ichi-nii, you should give yourself a shot at love."

Karin agreed with her twin's words. "If not we can always make sure he knows what's in your wallet."

"Such a sweet and scandalous love, son!"

"No one is loving anyone!" Ichigo blasted. His head threatened to explode with the cacophony of noises that was his family. Everyone was yelling their heads off, apart from Yuzu. "Fine, you all win! I'll get Ulquiorra Schiffer to come over for our family dinner on New Year's eve, OK?"

"No matter what?" Isshin's eyes shone—an exhilarated glistening matched by Yuzu's.

"No matter what?" Karin echoed, eyeing her brother suspiciously.

"You heard me," Ichigo huffed as he strode into the kitchen and poured himself a much needed glass of water. "I'll knock him out and drag him here if I have to."

Both men finally got their wish when they ran into each other outside the primary studio at Soul Pictures ten days before the end of the year. The two weeks of absence had done them a whole lot of good. Ulquiorra was now calmer and less prone to strange ideas of mimicry, while Ichigo learned how to judiciously hide any incriminating evidence of his own confused soul. It was bad enough that his family had found out about the photo in his wallet and was holding him at ransom; he didn't need anyone else knowing.

The two actors stared at each other, drunk in silence, not knowing what to say. So much had been going on in their minds since their last encounter at the parking lot, that they didn't know how to properly react to each other's presence when no one else was around.

Especially Ichigo. How was he supposed to act toward someone whom he had kissed in his sleep at least four or five times? Ichigo would rather die than admit that to anyone.

"I—" they started in unison, their gazes clashing together again like a lightning bolt across the sky. At the unintended contact, both men dropped their stares like two awkward teenagers caught staring at each other in class.

"I was just thinking if you were removed from the production before the year ends," Ulquiorra said, surprised that he was the first to speak.

"You wish. I'm too good for that now," Ichigo refuted, his eyes again meeting Ulquiorra's unreadable gaze. No need to get all nervous now, things are just the same as always. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed me. Life must be frightfully boring since you have no one else to diss."

"Are you now considering a second career as a psychic?"

"And have you gone on to become a professional surrogate mom, nagging at naughty kiddos to wear their scarves properly?"

As if responding to Ichigo's remark, Ulquiorra adjusted his own cashmere grey scarf around his neck. It was then that Ichigo realised, for the first time, that Ulquiorra always wore shades of grey, green and black. Not that Ichigo was complaining; those colours brought out the unique shade of teal of his eyes.

"You are staring."

Caught by surprise, Ichigo's first instinct was to clear his throat.

"I'm chuffed by how thick your scarf is. Are you trying to cut off the circulation from your heart to your head? Oh—what am I saying. It isn't even there in the first place!"

Ulquiorra decided to ignore the younger actor. "It is important to keep warm, especially for actors rushing through the final leg of filming."

"You, rushing? I can't imagine that!" Ichigo grinned. "Does that mean your scenes are all done now?"

"Principal photography is almost done. Other than that, everything had gone smoothly and we are right on schedule." Ulquiorra cast a pointed look at Ichigo. "Those were scenes without you in them."

"My scenes went perfectly well too!" Ichigo threw a dirty glare at his co-star. "Scenes without you in them!"

In the back of his mind Ichigo had already prepared a retort, knowing fully well that Ulquiorra the superior one would never let that comment slide. But he obviously wasn't prepared for what was to come.

"You can frame and even hold a scene which doesn't require my presence now. This shows you are not that hopeless after all."

Ichigo gaped at his co-star. "Did you just say something decent about me for once?"

"As usual I state the facts as they appear to me."

"I've never seen someone appearing to insult another, just so he can turn it around as a compliment. No, it happened before. That was you too!" Ichigo's gape etched back into a crooked smile. "I'm seriously impressed. You giving lessons in the art of backhanded insults? Sign me up!"

"Perhaps you should first repay my efforts in coaching you."

"Wasn't it for free? Wasn't it just for the movie?"

"You were clearly the beneficiary of my goodwill, and the coaching is a foundation course that will help you further your career."

"Scroogey McSchiffer."

"What do you have to offer me in return?"

"A good movie," Ichigo deadpanned.

"That is definite. I'm asking, what do you yourself have to offer me in return?"

"You're so hard to please." Ichigo folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. "What do you accept for payment?"

Ulquiorra appeared to give it some thought. "You."

Ichigo choked.

Where the hell did that come from? Ichigo tried to ignore his thunderous heartbeat and focused on studying Ulquiorra's face for any change in expression. As usual the older actor was impenetrable. Me?

"Shall have dinner with me," Ulquiorra continued in that unnervingly emotionless tone of his.

"Eh—?"

Wait wait wait—is he trying to ask me out? No, it can't be that. He'll probably order a feast at the most expensive place in Tokyo and take the chance to bankrupt me!

"On New Year's eve," Ulquiorra added.

Huh! New Year's eve?! That's super expensive! I'm getting ripped for sure! I shouldn't have bought him that luxurious settee. Now he thinks I have cash to splash.

"At your place."

There! Finish your sentence goddammit! He said it. He SAID it! Err waittttt—did he just say 'my place'? Isn't that—?

"How did you know?"

"I received a message from Kurosaki Yuzu. She asked in a most courteous manner. I told her that I would consider her invitation favorably."

"How did she even get your number?"

Ulquiorra looked at Ichigo blankly. "I was told that you gave it to her."

"Oh…ho…err yeah, I must have forgotten. The girls can be very enthusiastic sometimes," Ichigo fibbed, looking everywhere else but at the man in front of him.

Man…asking Ulquiorra over for dinner was turning out to be more stressful than I thought! Why oh why did I get caught for something that I've done when I was obviously not in the right frame of mind? I must be cursed. The Polaroid—that damned Polaroid in my wallet and the cause of those weird dreams—I'll burn it! And those Polaroids in the photo album—I'll burn them all!

Noting Ichigo's abrupt silence, Ulquiorra cast a look at the younger man, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"If it is a matter of inconvenience to you, then forget that this conversation took place."

Ichigo snapped his head up at Ulquiorra's words. "When did I say that?"

"You sounded reluctant."

"I was surprised, dammit. Taken aback! Astonished! Next time say your words in one complete sentence, please. Before I die of shock."

"You mean, 'You shall have dinner with me on New Year's eve at your place'?"

"Yea—wait! Why does it sound weirder now that you said everything in one go? Anyway, it's just one more set of utensils to put on the table and an extra serving of food." Then remembering his family's threat against him, Ichigo blurted: "There'll be sweet shrimp soup too! We always use it for the base. You like it, right? It may not be Yuzu making it this time, but I'm not too bad myself. I'll make the tamago rolls with curry lobster too. If your conscience allows you to remember, you kept stealing them from my lunch box that day. I can count very well!"

"Should you likewise recall, as stated under Clause 7 of our agreement, 'If you wish to stay for lunch, prepare my share too'."

"My apologies! It's my fault!" Ichigo punctuated each word with pronounced sarcasm. "To make it up to you, we will include more hotpot styles: Shabu-shabu or sukiyaki style, you decide. I'll give you sliced beef, cheesy meatballs, tofu, mushrooms, diced carrots in sweet shrimp soup base or whatever you want for dinner! For dessert we will serve jouyo manjyu! How does this selection sit with you, Your Highness?"

Ulquiorra was secretly delighted that his co-star actually remembered his favourite foods, even his preference for the traditional Japanese sweet—a bean paste ball shaped like a white sparrow and wrapped with a small dough of grated yam and rice flour. "So you do want me to be there."

"You already offered to come over."

"Because it looked like you were not going to ask."

"Don't bully a shy guy!" Ichigo protested. "In case you don't know, my family doesn't usually invite people over for dinner and it's been a while since I last cooked anything decent. I'll need to level up, especially since our guest happens to be the most demanding person I know." Ichigo directed the last line at Ulquiorra, eyeing him as he spoke. "I'm going to put in some effort for this, so you'd better be there on the 31st!"

"I never make promises I cannot keep," Ulquiorra replied, trying his best to maintain an impassive exterior. His pulse however, was telling a different story.

"You won't be disappointed. You'll love the food I've prepared so much, that you'll keep coming back for more. And when you grovel at my feet to beg me, I will look upon you and say, 'No!'." Ichigo launched into a bout of villainous laughter, squeezing his eyes shut as he cackled. When he opened them, Ulquiorra had already turned to leave.

"That was real polite of you!" Ichigo called after his co-star. "Top in class for basic courtesy as usual!"

"You need to brush that imbecilic look off your face," came Ulquiorra's cool reply as he continued walking down the hallway.

Those were the words he allowed Ichigo to hear; what the younger man didn't see was a small smile from which those very words were uttered.

All Ichigo wanted was a peaceful end to a busy year, but peace was determined to forsake him. Barely three days after Ichigo had successfully invited his co-star over for dinner, Abarai Renji burst through the Kurosaki home with his tablet in hand and his trademark pony-tail up on the war path. The sight of a certain carrot top still asleep in bed with the covers pulled up to his neck seriously pissed him off. Worst of all, that very man, who usually wore a slight frown when awake, had the tiniest of smiles on his sleeping face. Disturbed by what he saw, Renji stared at his friend and mentally corrected himself.

That wasn't a smile. That was a derpy sleeping face.

Rightly aggrieved, Renji brushed a piece of tissue against Ichigo's nose and watched in wretched delight as the actor's nose wrinkled uncomfortably for a few seconds before breaking into a sneeze.

"What the hell…" Ichigo slurred, only to sneeze again. With the tiny smile now replaced by his signature frown, he reached for the tissue box on the bedside table but it wasn't there. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, only to find Renji's red ponytail in full view. Thinking that he must be having a nightmare after all those pinky plumy dreams, Ichigo shut his eyes and slid back under the blanket.

Renji lightly rapped on Ichigo's forehead with his knuckles.

"Ho, ho, ho. Santa is here."

Ichigo slapped away Renji's hand. "Go back. You're two days early. Come again on the 25th."

"But I come bearing gifts!"

"Shoo before I call the cops on y—" Before Ichigo could finish his sentence, Renji pulled away his blanket and shook him awake. "I come bearing gifts! Gifts from the tabloid gods!"

"So who's seeing who now? And why should I care?" the carrot top muttered as he futilely wrestled for his blanket from Renji's grasp.

Annoyed at his friend's nonchalance, Renji switched on his tablet and zoomed in on a screenshot taken from an article dated 22 December 2009. It was published by the most notorious tabloid newspaper in the country, an agency which gained infamy from sullying the names of major and minor celebrities alike, politicians, sports figures, and anyone with a remote touch of fame. It was at least 10 times worse than Seireitei Nine Daily's gossip column.

"Open your eyes, and feel the weight of tabloid hell on your back!" Renji yelled into his friend's ear, causing the latter to yell back in surprise. The yelling crashed to an abrupt halt when Ichigo finally opened his eyes to the article Renji had on 200 percent zoom on his tablet.

The photo's grainy quality suggested that it was taken at night with low light. In the centre of the picture were two people standing very close to each other, and the closeness of their faces, tilting at a suggestive angle hinted that they could be kissing. The shorter of the two had their back turned to the camera. The taller one was facing the camera, but his identity was protected by the black box placed across his eyes. Around them were empty parking lots and a handful of expensive looking cars. In the corner of the article was another photo taken of the same couple, in presumably the same position as the earlier shot, except this time, the taller of the two appeared to be stroking the other person's face.

"What's this?"

"Probably two famous people kissing in the carpark at night."

"And so?"

"A scintillating scarf-pulling kiss. The stuff of shoujo manga. You can't make this shit up."

"What has it got to do with me?"

"Are you still in la la land?" Renji shrilled in Ichigo's ear once more. "Open your eyes and look carefully! Who does the taller man look like?"

Grumbling curses about crimson bozos under his breath, Ichigo forcibly inched his eyes a tad wider at the tablet screen. Although the taller man wasn't wearing anything spectacular in the photos—a pullover, jeans and a scarf wrapped around his neck, what adorned his feet was an abominable union of socks and slippers. Wouldn't that guy freeze at his impeccably hipster uncle look, Ichigo chortled. Wouldn't he die of embarrassment at his modern interpretation of socks and geta sandals? Wouldn't he—Ichigo's blood ran cold—wouldn't he be…

Me?

And if that taller guy in the picture was him, then the other person whose face couldn't be seen was Ulquiorra.

His senses awakened, as if a bucket of cold water was rudely dumped on him, the carrot top took a closer look at the article. The headline wrote: "MYSTERIOUS COUPLE'S INTIMACY HEATING UP THE COLD NIGHT". Apart from the two grainy photos, there were no text, not even captions. There was however, a promise from the tabloid reporter to spill in the upcoming Christmas issue the names of the couple, one of whom was featured 'rather frequently' in the papers this second half of the year.

Ichigo's pulse began to race, either at the recollection of that night, which he had tried very hard to put to bed, or at the thought of someone else being at the empty car park, being privy to what was an entirely private conversation between Ulquiorra and him. Although judging from how the photos were taken, the paparazzi must had been at least ten feet away and might not have heard anything of note.

Noticing his friend's change of expression, Renji snapped his fingers to bring the actor back to earth.

"Got this from the grapevine. If it's of any comfort, you weren't supposed to be the star of this year's XXXMAS EXPOSE, my friend. The paparazzi camping at the carpark was apparently trying to catch some married big shot actor redhanded with his current rumoured squeeze who also happens to be married to some showbiz type. You weren't targeted and yet…wow." Renji released a puff of air he had been holding in his lungs. "Your luck is just…amazing. So amazing that I can forget about my Christmas and New Year and Valentine's and White Day altogether!"

"Why aren't you asking if the photos are real?"

Renji switched off his tablet. "You had the same look of someone who was caught red-handed stealing candy at your local mom and pop store. It's a good look on you."

"I don't get it."

"Huh? You want to give me overtime pay and an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii?"

Ichigo shoved his pillow in Renji's face. "These must have been taken two weeks ago. Why publish them now?"

"What did you do two weeks ago? Had a carpark rendezvous? Man, I don't care what happens in your private love life, but you've got a contract signed and a commercial promise to keep! I already ran my butt off for you when your blind item broke out in the tabloids two months ago!"

"It's not what you think it is, idiot."

"What I think doesn't matter. It's what the public thinks of you now. That pap obviously waited until now to release the photos for maximum exposure. What do normal people do during the long holiday break? They watch TV, eat KFC, sing karaoke and get wasted! They're free as shit and are relaxed enough to pay attention to tabloid scoops! Thanks to my Samaritan buddy here, that married actor dodged a bullet."

"Can't we just keep quiet about this? None of the crap these tabloids spout are real. Didn't that gossip from October get snuffed out pretty quickly?"

"That's because of me getting hold of those blurry as hell photos, and the lack of definitive evidence that the two people in the car are you and Ulquiorra. Everyone knew that you two would make big waves in the scoops back then, so it got dismissed as fake news soon enough. No one believes a blind item that is too obvious."

Ichigo flashed Renji a disdainful glare. "You sure acted like it was real when the gossip broke out."

"I was only pulling your leg. Even I know how ridiculous that blind item is!"

It was all because of you and that crazy freak with puffy cerulean hair! Ichigo miffed inwardly.

Renji held up two fingers. "Now, there are two problems. One—even with your eyes blacked out, it's obviously you in the photo." As if to emphasize his point, Renji lowered his forefinger, leaving the middle finger raised. "Two—no matter how you scrutinize this person's back view, she obviously doesn't look like Inoue! This person may be wearing a coat, but it's clear as day she doesn't have hips! Her shoulders are straight too, with no sign of roundedness. If anything her figure resembles a m—" Renji trailed off upon realizing what he had stumbled upon.

"A…man? Is that…a man?!" the redhead wheezed.

"What's the big deal? You can easily write off those photos as a friendly interaction."

"Friendly my ass! Why the hell would you suddenly touch someone's cheek like that in the middle of the night? A man's cheek at that!" Renji jabbed an offending finger at his own cheek. "And don't get me started on the kiss! You two were obviously making out!" Then narrowing his eyes in a conspiratorial fashion at Ichigo, Renji pressed on, "Why, did the movie ignite some closeted desire in you?"

"It was cold."

"Oh ho. You were using that man's cheek and mouth as a heater? Seriously? His cheek and freaking mouth?"

"It was his face, OK! Stop saying 'cheek'! And we absolutely did not do anything of that sort! I only touched his face, damn you!" Ichigo wrapped the blanket around himself indignantly.

"Tell that to the internet boards that are lighting up your thread now. Tell that to your fans who are protecting your honour from the other keyboard warriors! 'It was cold and my fingers were freezing so I heated them up on this stranger's cheek and because it was not warm enough, I had to kiss him. But don't worry, it's all because of how cold I was!' Do you have any idea how crazy it sounds?"

"How would I know that he'd wait there for me even after we're done with our scenes! How would I know that he was bothered by our sex scene filmed in the morning? It wasn't even anything raunchy! Sheesh. Give me a break."

Renji threw his best friend a look of disbelief.

For the second time that month, Ichigo sincerely wished that he could roll back time and take back his words. "You didn't hear anything," he mumbled mutely.

"So you're saying that the other person in the photo is…" Renji couldn't bring himself to say the name. To say it would mean he was facing a world he should never had come to know. Ichigo's silence and reddening ears only magnified how ludicrous the whole situation was.

"Oh god." Renji cast his tablet aside and smacked his head with the pillow Ichigo had earlier chucked at him. "I need my meds."