-Let's take a better look
Beyond a story book
And learn our souls are all we own
Before we turn to stone-
Grimmjow sighed, basking in the sunlight and ignoring the burning sensation running down his skin. His blue hair fluttered in the sunlight, and his-now tan again-skin nearly glowed with contentment. The scar on his chest was nearly invisible, the recent blood he'd consumed making him euphoric, faster and stronger. A breeze blew from the north, to his left, and fluttered his shirt open, revealing the muscles he'd worked so hard as an Espada to get. Another moment and he'd have to go inside, lest he burn to a crisp, with his skin blackened and bruised.
Arms wrapped around him from behind. "You seem happy," the numb voice, creamy and emotionless, said behind him. His eyes slowly drifted open, and though he automatically rejoiced on the inside, it didn't show outside. He looked numb to Ulquiorra. "Or are you?" A slight crease appeared between his eyebrows, and Grimmjow's heart gave a slight squeeze. But this was important.
"I don't think I'm going to live, Ulquiorra," he said, completely calm, completely indifferent on the outside. If only Ulquiorra knew. Inside, he was anxious, wanting to get the war over with, to resume his peaceful existence with him. Ichigo was supposed to reach Las Noches any day now, and nightmares plagued him; whenever he could get to sleep, that is. Unconsciousness had evaded him for days now, and his hunger was worse than ever. His veins burned with it, his fangs making an appearance at the slightest glimpse of a neck. Blood in small amounts didn't seem to work anymore for him. He wanted to drain his vessel, make it scream in terror and lay limp in his arms...
Ulquiorra's voice was emotionless-more so than usual. "Why the hell do you say that?" he asked, his arms going slack and his face appearing in front of Grimmjow's-but how could he explain his emotions, when he didn't even understand them himself?
-Let's go to sleep with clearer heads
And hearts too big to fit our beds
And maybe we won't feel so alone
Before we turn to stone-
"Just a feeling," he answered, trying not to let the tears in his eyes show in his voice, "but in case I don't..."
"In case you don't?" Ulquiorra prompted.
"I want to spend every moment with the one I love, and to let them know how much I do love them." Now he turned around, looking deep into the emerald green eyes that captured him in a net of shock and astonishment. Grimmjow took his hands, squeezing and just looking, falling deeper and deeper into the pools of green. Slowly he leaned forward, wanting to make every memory before he went a good one.
"Grimmjow," was all Ulquiorra whispered.
-And if you wait for someone else's hand
You will surely fall down
If you wait for someone else's hand
You'll fall, you'll fall-
No more waiting. No more hesitation. Grimmjow was done with that. Life was too short to waste, too brief to ruin. Even if the years stretched on and on, he would cherish these memories, even if he didn't die, he'd still live by his decision. He wanted nothing but the best for Ulquiorra.
"I love you," he whispered, sliding his hands through the raven-black plumes of hair. "I'll always love you, no matter what."
-I know that I am nothing new
My words might not seem much to you
But brother how we must atone
Before we turn to stone-
"I belive you," Ulquiorra whispered back, squeezing his hands tighter. "And if I have a choice, you're not dying. Not anytime soon, that is." A smile small was what he was graced with, and that made his heart race, made his certainty grow.
"Grimm!" Nnoitra called, "Aizen requests you!"
When Ulquiorra stiffened, Grimmjow smiled sweetly. "It's okay. Remember that whatever happens, even if it's the worst, I love you. Eternally."
Kissing his pale hand, he turned, looking in his eyes and breaking contact. A single tear leaked out of his eye as a horrible premonition swept over him:
I'll lose him soon. Whichever way it happens-if it's him or me-I'm going to lose him.
He hoped with all his might it wasn't true.
