A/N: This is a more serious chapter of Unmentionables. Of course there will still be funny chapters, but this is the beginning of a series of unfortunate pasts. If you want to make it feel more legitimate, I suggest going to .
I hope you cry, because that was what I was kind of going for!
A Memory, A Nightmare.
Shifty eyes, streaming tears falling one after the other, sobs of anguish and despair fill the grassy landscape. Though, through the endless downpour, it was difficult to tell where tears began and the rain ended.
What wasn't green was black, what wasn't crying was almost there. Except for one boy. The boy that felt the guiltiest out of every single person dressed in black that Friday afternoon.
Men and women circled around the single coffin as it lowered into the ground, to never be seen again. Friends of that person were clinging to each other in remorse and unimaginable depression.
Not a touch of the sun's rays peeked over the grayish rain clouds. The city looked as though it were immersed in darkness, in hopelessness. And to Ulquiorra Schiffer, it was and will always be the day his happiness was washed always by the bleak, drab rain.
The landscape was covered with tombstones of the deceased. Who knew there were places on this world where the life was just sucked out of you? Even though the grass was so full of life, so green and healthy, the place was dead; just like the people in it.
People began putting items on top of the coffin; necklaces, pictures, flowers, his favourite candy… But not Ulquiorra. As his father moved his wheelchair toward the hole in the ground, he stared in with unseeing eyes.
He breathed in through the medical tubes providing him oxygen. Through the constant pitter-patter of the rain, he could still hear the beeping of his heart monitor. The very reason he was there.
The artificial beauty of the funeral was suffocating; dreary white and black roses, pictures of his face… even the coffin itself; was so out of place.
His eyes closed as he clutched the stuffed animal in his small, fragile hands. He no longer wanted to see such synthetic things that made his mind swirl. But out of desperation to cling to his sanity, he had to get this over with. His eyes opened to see "Benny", that person's favourite stuffed animal. A small red octopus. The stuffed animal Ulquiorra gave that personhimself when he was five. Of course it wasn't much of anything; a cheap ten dollar toy that a five year old could afford to give a fifteen year old.
Ulquiorra's arm stretched out slowly as he dug his fingertips into the head of the octopus. It smiled sadly back at him; its yellow eyes peered into his, almost alive, and almost condemning him to be the horrible person he knew himself to be.
He dropped it in after giving its head one last final squeeze. His father's face was clouded by sadness as he wheeled Ulquiorra back to his mother's side.
The priest sombrely picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it atop the coffin; "We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."
First it was friends that picked up some soil, and then it was relatives. After everyone was gone, Ulquiorra's mother slowly took some soil in her own trembling hands and let it fall on the dark brown coffin. His father then took some and whispered to anyone and to no one at all, "God bless your soul." His shoulders began to twitch as he held the tears back, returning to his wife, and taking her into his arms.
Ulquiorra's pale hand trailed over the dirt as he mutely took his own pinch. He had not spoken for a week. How could he when the only person he talked to was being put in the ground to rot and decay into a mere skeleton?
He gradually let the bits of dirt fall from his fingers. But when the last piece of earth fell, something inside of him broke.
The Priest hit the lever that leisurely let the casket go down into the ground. "I'll leave you three alone." He said quietly, but loud enough to hear over the rain. "I am so sorry for your loss."
Ulquiorra hid under the vast black umbrella as the rain hurled down onto the graveyard. His eyes gazed up to an angel statue about ten metres in front of him. His eyes narrowed, zooming in on her face. The rain made it seem as if she was crying.
He touched his own face and felt nothing but cold, soft skin. His eyes trailed back to the lowering coffin. Weakly, he wheeled over to the handle and yanked it up.
"Ulquiorra, what are you doing? Stop it!" His mother wept, and she pulled his hands away from the lever.
He jerked his hands away from hers and again tried to reach for the lever.
"Stop it, Ulquiorra." His father told him softly. "He's gone."
His own face twisted in pain, and finally he felt hot tears melt his icy face. "No." he screamed and tugged at the lever.
His father grabbed the wheelchair and pulled him backwards, away from the coffin and closer to the crying angel statue.
"Stop," he cried, gripping onto the arms of the chair as his mother put the lever down once again. "Why did you let him die? Why didn't you let me die?"
His mother stepped towards Ulquiorra, holding her hands out in a comforting way.
"You could have saved him. There was hope!" He continued, even though his throat threatened to choke him. He shoved his mother's hands away from him. He didn't want anyone touching him. Their tainted hands… they were the ones who had decide this.
"He was declared brain dead, Ulquiorra. There was nothing we could do." His father touched his face, wiping off some of the tears. He defiantly pushed his hand away.
"I HATE YOU!" He yelled at his father, his mother, his brother that they were burying, the angel, God—if he existed—, and to himself. Most of all, he was yelling at himself. "I hate you," he shrieked again, this time pulling out the needles and wires attached to his body. He weakly stood up, holding onto the arm of the wheelchair for balance.
His parents were far too devastated to even manage a small croak.
He slowly staggered to the hole in the ground. Halfway there, his legs gave way. He pulled himself right to the edge and sat on his legs. "I should have been the one…" he whispered down to his dear, dead brother, "I should have been the one to go. But like some sort of… hero… you had to give me your heart. I was the one born with the bad heart! Not you! Why did you have to die? It was me! It was always my fate to die!" His throat clogged as his heart lurched in his chest, sending a painful current through his body. "Go to hell! This is your entire fault! God will punish you for forcefully making yourself brain dead!" Ulquiorra's hand, dirty with mud and grass, held his chest, right near his heart. "Just stop beating!" He yelped, with his other fist pounding the ground. "Just die with the rest of your body. Just let me die like I was supposed to!"
And that was the last thing his brother ever gave to him. The only thing Ulquiorra needed to survive; a healthy heart in place of his weak, deficient one. That is just what he gave him.
His eyes turned fuzzy as he laid his head on the soft, wet ground. He clutched the grass with all his might as he parents plucked him into their arms.
That day he became the boy that never cried again. The boy that never laughed again. The boy that lost his smile. The boy that was never going to love himself, accept himself, or love anyone else in fear of letting them slip through those pale, muddy fingers of a child who blamed the death of his hero on himself. He would never let his pain go. And he would never, ever forget what his brother did to save him.
Present.
Ulquiorra's eyes watch the baby octopus swirl in the tank; watching him with familiar, condemning yellow eyes. His stomach flips as his hand reaches his heart. And even just for a moment, he feels the cold, wet rain on his face.
"Are you alright, sunshine?" Grimmjow purrs sweetly, taking his own glance at the octopus in the tank.
Ulquiorra turns his gaze back to the table. No. I was never alright.
A/N: Special thanks to the Serbian. [Nickname]. I sort of maybe kind of like you, frienemy. It's possible.
Alright. Hopefully I didn't make anyone too sad. As I said, this fanfic can be very funny, and very sad. Well. Review; tell me how you think and feel! :D