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It lasted longer than Ulquiorra expected.
They started dating as teenagers, and it had been messy from that moment to the last. But… neither of them could ever let go. They had communication issues, emotional problems. Things that made coexisting hard. Impossible, some days.
Ulquiorra looked at the ring sitting in his palm. Things changed. People changed. He knocked at the door.
Footsteps. Grimmjow opened the door. “Dunno why you don’t just use your key. Ain’t changed the locks.” He probably wouldn’t, either.
“Because I have manners.”
“Whatever. Here for the rest of your shit?” Grimmjow crossed his arms.
“Must you be so vulgar?” Ulquiorra stepped inside.
There were boxes in every room of the house. A lifetime divided and separated into cardboard and plastic totes. Ulquiorra squeezed his ring until it made his palm ache.
Grimmjow closed the door. “I’d be nicer if you hadn’t asked for a divorce. For better or for worse, fucker.”
Ulquiorra had seen the worst. He’d grown tired of it.
Grimmjow had always been so angry. So… passionate. It had drawn Ulquiorra when they were younger. A light in his darkness that burned bright enough to burn. And it had burned. Ulquiorra still felt the sting.
They’d begun to drift. Ulquiorra saw little point in staying. Not when Grimmjow couldn’t see him as a person. He’d always been a trophy to be won. Something to conquer. To own.
To fuck.
Ulquiorra opened his hand. Gold band. No gem. An inscription inside. Always.
Ulquiorra turned, silent, and held it out. Grimmjow looked at it. Scrunched his nose. There were more lines to his face now. Gray at his temples. He’d long since stopped dying his hair blue.
Grimmjow turned his nose up at Ulquiorra. “Tch. Idiot. I don’t want it back.”
“And I no longer wish to keep it.” Not with the memories it carried. The attachments and commitments. Promises whispered in the dead of night. Breathed between heated kisses and gasping breaths.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes and placed the ring on the kitchen counter. He stepped away to look out the backdoor. Out on a yard they never used.
We’ll entertain! A phantom from so long ago smiled at Ulquiorra. Not with the long hours Ulquiorra worked. Or the late nights Grimmjow took just to afford the house payments.
They’d paid it off with Adelaide’s death benefits. Another ghost. Another reason to move on.
Ulquiorra looked away and opened one of the boxes with his name. It looked like Grimmjow shoved things inside without a thought. Made sense. The agent would be coming in a few days to check the house. It would be sold, and the funds divided. And they would be finished with each other. A clean separation, Ulquiorra’s lawyer called it.
Ulquiorra placed the items into three piles: keep, trash, and donate. There were pictures from their wedding day. He separated out the ones of his family and Grimmjow’s. Placed their wedding photo on the trash pile and continued on.
Grimmjow grunted and walked to the counter. Ulquiorra saw him staring at the ring. He made a point not to look at Ulquiorra. That was fine. They hadn’t been able to look at each other for ages now.
Not since the argument. Not since Ulquiorra finally broke.
Ulquiorra sifted aside more of the contents. Gifts Grimmjow had bought him over the years. Toys, cards, and surface level things easy to grab from any gas station. No thought. A chore rather than a desire.
He couldn’t remember the last time Grimmjow had cooked for him. The last time he’d done anything but look at Ulquiorra with his jaw clenched.
Don’t leave me. I still love you.
The love had faded. Its pulse was thready at best.
Ulquiorra shifted aside the cards and notes. At the bottom of the box rested a book with a dark blue cover and gold filigree edging. It wasn’t one of his. He opened it. On the first page was a photocopy of a receipt. The name at the top read Giorno’s Pizza Pit.
Their first date.
Grimmjow had hounded Ulquiorra after fencing practice to go out for food. He kept on for a solid month. The tenacity wore on Ulquiorra until he gave in, and they split a pizza pie together. It had been… nice, he remembered. Grimmjow had smiled at him. Laughed. He’d won Ulquiorra some stupid stuffed toy from the prize machine at the front of the restaurant. Must have gone through five dollars to get it.
Ulquiorra turned the page to find a ticket stub. Their first movie. Grimmjow’s chicken scratch was scrawled next to it: He’s perfect, and he knows it. Asshole. I love him already.
Grimmjow snatched the book out of Ulquiorra’s hands. “S’not supposed to be in there.”
Ulquiorra looked up to see Grimmjow’s face a deep red. Ulquiorra stood. “What is that?” He already knew, but he needed to hear it.
Grimmjow tried to turn away. “Nothin’.”
There was no longer a need to be polite. Or respectful. Ulquiorra snagged the book out of Grimmjow’s hands. Grimmjow swore and swiped for him. Ulquiorra dodged and slipped into the gap between the fridge and the pantry.
“Fucker! You always go there!”
“Because you can’t reach.” Ulquiorra opened the book.
There were more entries, more receipts and ticket stubs. But also there were washed popsicle sticks, dried flowers, and photographs. Every little thing they’d ever done was in the book. There was even a photo of Ulquiorra doing his makeup for their wedding. It looked to have been shot from a crack in the door. His mother smiled at the camera.
Ulquiorra missed her.
Ulquiorra turned the page, and there was another photocopied receipt. This one for his wedding ring. There was another note.
What if he says no? How can I tell him he’s the only person I’ve ever loved? That my life is meaningless without him? That he’s all I ever think about? How can I ask him?
Ulquiorra peered out of the gap to see Grimmjow’s arms crossed over his chest. His face still red.
Grimmjow muttered, “It’s my journal. I was never good at telling you how I felt, so I wrote it down. Figured I’d go first. On account a my diet bein’ bad, and my anger problems. Thought… you’d find it.” He scrubbed at his cheek.
Ulquiorra lowered his eyes back to the book. The next few pages were filled with fears.
He’s pulling away from me. I have to make him stay. Do better. Show him I love him.
There were still more mementos. Matcha packets from Ulquiorra’s tea. Sticky note reminders about the trash or dishes. Ulquiorra saying he’d be late coming home.
I love him so much. I don’t want him to go. But it’s so hard to talk to him. He looks right through me sometimes. Wish Mom was still here. She’d help me.
And on the last page: Does he even still love me?
Ulquiorra turned back to the first page. To the receipt from the pizza restaurant. He touched it and felt his heart ache. A man who didn’t care wouldn’t have kept something like this. Maybe he’d been wrong? Ulquiorra slipped out of the space between the fridge and offered the book back to Grimmjow.
“I can’t believe you kept all of this.” All their little moments. Everything that would have been insignificant.
Grimmjow held the book to his chest. “It was always hard to talk to you. About feelings. I figured we’d be married for forever. That I’d die first. You’d find this and…”
Ulquiorra looked at his ring. If he’d known… well he knew now, didn’t he?
That he was wrong. He was more than an object to Grimmjow. He belonged in Grimmjow’s heart. In his thoughts.
Ulquiorra slipped the ring back onto his finger. “Ridiculous beast.” Ulquiorra cupped Grimmjow’s face between his hands. He leaned up and placed a soft kiss on the corner of Grimmjow’s mouth. “Be better.”
Grimmjow slipped his arms around Ulquiorra. “We both need to be better.”
Ulquiorra touched their foreheads. Yes, he supposed that was true. This had not been created by only one of them. They had both wounded the other. It would take them both working to fix it.
“Then let us be better,” Ulquiorra murmured.