"Woman, I instructed you to lie down. If you insist on getting up on your own, I will tie you down to your bed."
That sounds familiar, and I smile slightly, despite my pounding headache. "I have to pee, Ulquiorra," I explain. I know he means well, despite his tone and word choices.
Still, it's slightly oppressive, the way he dictates my care. Old habits die hard, I guess.
He is sweet, though, as he gets up, huffing quietly, and walks over to support me while I walk the remaining five steps to the toilet. But then, the weirdest thing happens: he sets a small, porcelain bell, painted with holly and two birds, down on the ledge beside me. Only then do I notice the gold lettering around the bottom that reads, "Christmas 1974".
"What's this?" I ask.
"Ring it when you are finished and I will be at your service," he replies. If my head wasn't throbbing, I'd laugh. It's so strange. Where did he get the bell? Where did he get the idea for it? I make a mental note to ask him later.
He leaves, and I do what I came in here to do. When I finish, curiosity overrules my desire for independence, and I pick up the small white object and give it a ring. The sound is lovely.
For now.
It is piercing, though. I can only tolerate one or two chimes before I wince in pain.
"I'm coming in ," he announces, then does so and wordlessly escorts me back to bed.
He pulls back the blankets and assists in laying me down so my head and shoulders are slightly propped up on my pillows. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Woman?" he asks. His voice sounds so dispassionate, but his fingers twisting as he holds them over his belly tell a different story. The way his eyes scan me for any signs of distress tells me that he is anxious.
People sometimes assume that it is a burden to have had him here with me for so long. It's been more than a year. But while the initial transition was particularly challenging, they couldn't be further from the truth. He has really been such a blessing. He is quietly funny and kind, and he seems to have made it his mission in life to make certain I'm well cared for. He's even started cooking!
"I have mirepoix chopped and chicken boiling on the stove. In two hours, you will eat soup. If you refuse to eat again, I will have to restrain and force feed you."
I'd roll my eyes if it didn't hurt so much. "Is that really necessary, Ulquiorra?"
He looks almost hurt by my question. "Yes. You must consume sufficient nutrition or you will not recover. It is imperative that you recover."
I feel a prick in my sinuses. I know him well enough by now to understand that even though he doesn't say it, it's not just that he needs my guidance in this world. He just needs me. It's a new, but welcome concept. I nod my agreement and his posture relaxes.
"Now then, Woman, get some sleep. I will wake you when it is time to eat. Oh!"
He dashes out of the room and returns a moment later with the bell from the bathroom, setting it down next to my bed. "If you need anything at all, ring this bell. I do not care if you think you can do it yourself. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Ulquiorra. Thank you," I reply and quickly drift off to sleep.
"Woman? Orihime? Are you prepared to eat soup?"
His voice is soft. It sounds the way a fluffy blanket feels. "C'mere," I mumble, half asleep. I want to wrap myself up in the weightless comfort he promises.
"No, Woman. You must rise and come to the table. Unless you'd like me to spoon feed you."
"No, no, I'll get up."
Ulquiorra comes to my side and offers his hand to assist. I feel guilty taking it. I'm still not used to accepting help, even though I've been trying for years not to feel this way.
People think Ulquiorra is a burden, but it isn't true. The one who was and always has been a burden is me.
At least that's what my demons tell me. I've been working on having more positive self-talk, but like I said, old habits die hard.
Speaking of old habits, it looks like I indulged in one again: getting lost in thought. I'm sitting at the table now, and I have no idea how I got here, but I do know one thing:
"This smells amazing!"
I waft my hand over the steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup and I could almost cry, it smells so good. Ulquiorra takes any new skill he attempts to master very seriously, and his cooking ability has come a long way over the past several months.
He simply nods at my compliment and stares at me, waiting for me to start eating. Only after I bring the spoon to my mouth does he do the same for himself.
My eyes close. "Mmmm, this is so good. The only thing that would make it better would be if I had some bread from work to sop up whatever is left in the bowl, because I am going to eat all of this."
He snaps his head towards the door. "That's right! How could I-" he cuts himself off to walk over to the coat rack by the door. There is a tote bag hanging there that we both use for errands sometimes, and he picks it up and retrieves a small baguette from inside. "I went to ABCookies to inform your employers that you are ill and will be out of work today and perhaps tomorrow. When they asked about your symptoms, I explained, and they informed me that soup and bread was the cure, and gave me the bread. You can imagine my gratitude."
He never stops surprising me. I can imagine his gratitude. I wonder if he can imagine mine. "Thank you," I whisper and shove another spoonful of soup into my mouth before I start crying or something.
He nods and brings the bread to the table, ripping a hunk off one end and handing it to me. We eat in relative silence until I am done, and he once again escorts me to the bathroom. When I'm finished, he is at the door and I notice the kitchen is already cleaned up.
"You will sleep, Woman. I will bring you fluids and you will rest and remain warm. Are you at all improved? Are there any medications you can take?"
"I'm feeling a bit better, thank you," I reply. He is so serious. It's cute. "I have some pills in the bedside table drawer. If you could get them out for me, I will take some when you bring me some water," I promise.
He leaves and is back soon. He opens a bottle of water and passes it to me while I dutifully take paracetamol and then lay back down.
He backs out of the room. "Ring the bell if you need anything," he reminds me, and then closes the door.
I stare at it. I don't want to stare at it. I want him back, but I close my eyes and try to sleep.
Two minutes later, I give up. I pick up the bell and ring it loudly.
I can hear his footsteps. He opens the door. "Orihime?"
He looks confused. "You said you were at my service?"
He nods and approaches. "Yes, Woman. I am. How can I assist you?"
I look at him and twist my lips. Do I dare be bold? I want to be.
"Can you stay with me?"
"Yes," he responds without hesitation, but continues to stand there like a doofus.
"No, Ulquiorra. I want you to come and lie down next to me and keep me warm."
His brows raise. He blinks. I love it when he does that.
"Oh, right. Okay," he says, then walks around to the other side of the bed and slowly sits down.
I try not to laugh as I hear him move and feel his weight shift slowly on the mattress behind my back as he tries to complete my request without jostling me. When he finally stills, he is beside me, his shoulder touching my spine lightly. "Is this acceptable?" he asks.
"No. Turn towards me, Ulquiorra, and put an arm around me. It's cold." That's a lie. I'm warm enough.
I hear a sharp inhale and then the springs of the mattress move and his hand is on my side. I scoot back until my butt is against his knees and his elbow rests on my hip. "That's better," I breathe, and my body sinks into the mattress and against his front.
This is better. Soft and warm and safe and comfortable… but also a little exhilarating. I'll box that feeling up and set it somewhere safe for the time being, though. I'm sick, after all.
Opening my eyes for a moment, I see that bell again. "Where did you buy the bell?" I ask quietly.
He has found the end of a long lock of hair and is absently flicking it between his thumb and forefinger as he answers, "The secondhand store. The saleswoman said this was the best design for you."
"Oh, really? Is it the color or the birds?"
"The birds."
"What kind of birds are they?"
"Turtledoves," he replies.
It's quiet for a moment and then I put two and two together. "Two turtledoves. Christmas 1974… Oh, it's from that carol!"
"I do not know." He sounds bothered.
"Oh," I say. "Then why are they the best for me?"
There is an uncharacteristic pause from him before he answers, "The shopkeeper informed me that turtledoves are symbolic."
He is going to make me work for it. I sigh quietly. "What do they symbolize?"
"She said it was a sweetheart or a beloved mate."
…did he…? With his face in my hair and his arm…
"This is the best design for me?" I finally dare to ask.
He nods, his nose brushing my scalp for a moment. "You have a sweet heart, Woman."
Oh, so I'm not a beloved mate, I guess. I mean… I guess that would be jumping the gun, but it hurts a little. "And-"
"Shh, quiet, Woman. I will stay with you and protect your sweet heart, but you must sleep."
My hand covers the back of his and I nod before whispering, "You have a sweet heart, too, Ulquiorra."