Spoilers for Arrancar arc and up! This is my first GrimmUlqui fic! Sorry if the angst is too dramatic (angsty). :D don't yell at me for making Kitty-chan sad! Or wait, do, if you wish, because I really appreciate reviews.

Part 1: The Fall

My perception of depth and emotion isn't great. Maybe if I knew how deep a lake Ulquiorra Cifer was, I wouldn't have jumped.

He said nothing unless addressed, and even then, he'd probably ignore you. He was as condescending as that asshole Tousen, and he would've been Aizen's whore if that creepy Gin wasn't. Yet he didn't revel in any praise, and I bet even "Aizen-sama" couldn't guess his motives. Even with all the cards on the table, he was mysterious.

He was stronger than me.

He was nothing like me.

He was fascinating.

I hated him.

Hated the way everything somehow stopped (as if time barely didn't pass in this hell-hole) when those blankly emerald eyes bore into me. Hated when he quietly pronounced me trash, his musical voice stretching through the heavy air. Yeah. Musical. I'd been reduced to some pussy-whipped mush. Wouldn't you, if you had to describe something as fucking musical?

I was conflicted. I couldn't tell whether I wanted to fuck him or kill him. He made me so damn vulnerable, and I couldn't beat him into a hapless oblivion to be gone of him, like with almost everything else.

You know how exciting Hueco Mundo is, "land of eternal night." No fucking distractions, especially living in this Las Noches thing. So, he consumed my thoughts, my time, me. I prodded him with insults, tried to fight him, initiate a rivalry. He never let me, never gave me the honor. We weren't equals, clear sign tattooed on our bodies. In return, I'd never admit that obvious, frustrating fact.

I couldn't get to him, no attempt at bending or breaking would work. He was impassive, statue-esque. If I could crumble him, could delve into him; if that made him mine - I'd do it, try it. Call me obsessed. Maybe I was back where my as-close-as-you-can-get-with-being-dead-you-know? feelings started.

All I knew was that I felt something for him.

I'd love to say I don't remember that day. Fine, I don't remember what hallway it was, or how I ended up behind him. But I can bring back exactly how cold his slate skin was, perfectly smooth hierro stiffening under my touch. His angular collar bones, my fingers wrapping around the spherical gap that reminded him, reminded me, who we were. I explored him, if not to learn, to feel more of this enemy, this infatuation I had.

"Grimmjow…"

I think then he turned his head, twisted his torso to ... and again, I wouldn't know because I pressed my lips against his dark ones, and pinned him to a pillar. The taste on his tongue was faintly bittersweet, no doubt tea from one of those pointless conferences. He didn't blink, the impact nothing. I continued to touch, with anything, anywhere I could get. For a moment he was engulfed, and a brief second of confusion, of clarity, of that side of him I'd never see again showed; my muscled frame pressing flames at this slender figure of ice.

And back to analyzing, to testing, he traced my back with lithe fingers, and I could sense curiosity there. It wasn't what I was hoping for, whatever it was I wanted. Maybe I wanted him to punch me, maybe to kiss me back as hard as I had kissed him.

But then and there I wanted to think I had won, had claimed some of the Cuatro Espada as my own. I pushed it, and was kind of surprised to find he'd let me fuck him. He never screamed, let alone moaned. He'd sigh, but never with any conviction, never with emotion. It drove me insane and drew me in. Sex didn't change anything, but was all we had.

We weren't a couple. Couples are blissfully ignorant and romantic and have dates. That's what those sluts Loly and Menoly said, anyway. We were none of those things. Most "dates" started with a few rough bites and kisses, and ended in either of our rooms. During this, I became animal instinct, became dominant. It wasn't role reversal, though I wished. He still had control of the situation, was always thinking, never just doing, was always experimenting with theories and answers. I didn't see what enigma I might pose- I wasn't layered, I was just me - but went along with it. Just did, because I thought I could feel.

And so it was. This same cycle, sick and twisted. I wanted him, and we both knew regardless of what he let me do he would never let himself go. But he let me hang on. The bastard knew I irrevocably was attracted to him, predator and prey. And in his own way, with no trace of malice, he was playing me. Toying with whatever fragment of my "soul" was left.

You could say I was addicted to him, but that's me. Ever wanting what's bad for me.

Once, I had wanted to solve the puzzle that he was. I didn't finish solving him, but I did learn he was empty or something. I came up with my own conclusion, because honestly, I don't give a shit about nihilism or what a heart is. I knew that because he was so empty, I was being used. He was trying to fill a void he wanted to prove was there.

Now it was him who was screwing with me, but the only thing that wasn't mirrored was he actually had fucked me up. He knew, just didn't care. And slowly, I began not to care.

The beginning of the end, quite literally, started with those magical words of the God-Almighty Aizen. Calm, amused.

"We will have guests."

I had no fucking idea that all I had left in this sham of an afterlife would explode in my face.

A/N: Aaah I know that was rather short! The next chapter will switch tenses to present, because… I feel like it.