[aim log/complete]

[stradapanthera]

WHO: Grimmjow (stradapanthera) and Ulquiorra (sfigato_quarto)
WHAT: Ulquiorra invites Grimmjow over for dinner and Grimmjow finds out Ulquiorra got assigned to kill him. And it turns into a very bloody fight. Very bloody. 8)
WHERE: Ulquiorra's apartment.
WHEN: Tonight, July 1st. Just now.

The log is too big for the post again. So it's continued in comments. X)

Comments

[stradapanthera]

Ulquiorra watched him carefully. He was trying to get Grimmjow to leave him alone so he wouldn't have any more problems with Gin. He was trying to decide if he should at least help Grimmjow home. Did he deserve that? All Ulquiorra could think about was when he had desperately wanted to go home and had collapsed on Grimmjow's floor and all Grimmjow had done was laugh at him. That told him he was doing the right thing. Grimmjow wouldn't accept his help anyway.

If Grimmjow was full of hate, it was just because Ulquiorra had beaten him. Ulquiorra knew that Grimmjow couldn't stand it.

Ulquiorra smirked, crossing his arms. "Oh? And here I was giving you the compliment I owed you. Another waste of my breath. As would be offering to help you home, I assume?" He offered it anyway. He didn't want to sink to Grimmjow's level just because he was angry and hurt. "Alright. Good," Ulquiorra said as Grimmjow issued his final warning. Ulquiorra could not have asked for a better sort of answer if Grimmjow and he could not be together. Now he had rid himself of his obligation to Gin. "I will."

Compliment? Compliment? There hadn't been a single fucking compliment anywhere. Grimmjow had been fucking kissed. He'd never been so fucking insulted in his entire violent fucking life. He wasn't going to take anything from Ulquiorra. Especially not his fucking help. Beneath the pain, Grimmjow's entire body was itching like he was fucking allergic. He needed to get the fuck away from Ulquiorra before he shot himself to get rid of him.

It hurt to fucking move. Grimmjow held his aching ribs with the arm that belonged to his useless hand. After he wrenched Ulquiorra's door open, he dug his phone out of his pocket. One last thing to hurt the bastard before he left, then. And it was something he knew would sting. As Grimmjow left a trail of blood behind him, he spoke two words to his automated cell phone, making sure he was loud enough for Ulquiorra to hear: "Call Rukia."

The only damn person in the world he didn't want to destroy.

Ulquiorra was done. He had done what he had needed to do. He had made sure that they would part ways and hopefully Grimmjow would stay out of Monacello business for a while. It hurt. Ulquiorra knew it would hurt. His kiss had been sincere. His letting Grimmjow had been sincere. He didn't want to kill the only person who had made him feel anything in nearly ten years. As much as his sense told him it was what had to be done, his heart could not let him do it.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. One last phrase to get Grimmjow back for calling Rukia loud enough for him to hear. But he was too choked with the hurt. Maybe a little afraid to mutter those three little words.

Let Rukia and Grimmjow live happily ever after if that was what Grimmjow wanted. It was out of Ulquiorra's hands now. He was strong enough to chase Grimmjow off, yes. He had won that battle. But he was still so weak. He couldn't even say three little words. He wasn't strong enough. If he was, then he would have had the strength to bring Grimmjow back to him. He still needed to get stronger. He was still so utterly weak.

Ulquiorra slid down the wall, smearing blood down the surface until he reached the floor. He shut his eyes.

So weak.