I'm working on The Stranger, I swear I am. But in the meantime...

"Harder!"

I bite my lip and comply, putting all my strength into my hips as I pound into him mercilessly. His muscles clamp down on me, not wanting to let go even as I retreat before slamming in again. I'm sweating like crazy from exertion, the salty fluid trickling down from my hairline and dripping onto his face.

His features are scrunched into a grimace, brows furrowed as though he's in pain; but I know he's far from that. He's drowning in a thick haze of bliss, making his pleasure known with moans and cries that are so wanton that it takes all my self discipline to hold back my own release. I always wait for him to finish first, because I want to look at the most beautiful thing in the world as I ride out mine - him; flushed and glistening from our combined sweat and staring back at me with honey glazed eyes.

"Oh god, faster, faster..."

My arm shakes under my own weight, my waist screaming in agony between his strong thighs. His breaths are becoming more and more ragged and he's bucking his hips to meet me. I feel the tell-tale signs of his impending climax. His muscles begin to spasm, and then sure enough, not two seconds later, he lets out a long, broken moan and goes rigid beneath me. I hiss as his release coats our bodies. Finally, not able to take it anymore, I tumble after him, my cry muffled against his neck as I press in one last time, deep inside of him, all the way to the hilt.

"I love you," he murmurs breathlessly. He caresses the side of my face and nuzzles my forehead. "Love you, Grimmjow, I love-"

I silence him with a sloppy kiss.

He always does this.

He always tells me that he loves me at the very end.

I've never said it back. Not since...not for a while.

I know it hurts him that I don't, even though he doesn't show it. I want to, but I can't say it because I'm not worthy of saying it.

I honestly don't understand why he's still with me, and I don't think I ever will. He has told me, over and over again, that he would never leave my side, that he will always love me no matter what. It makes my chest hurt every time he says that.

Because I'm not worthy of his love. Not anymore.

I'm no longer the man who won his heart many years ago. Doctors said I will never be the same. Said something was fucked up - okay, I'm paraphrasing here - when my brain didn't get enough oxygen for those precious few minutes.

On most days, I'm fine. People can't even tell that anything is wrong. They just see a pitiful one-arm man. Well, that's because they don't see my fits.

I can never predict when they'd happen. I can be completely normal one second and be writhing on the floor foaming in the mouth the next.

Ichi says it's okay. He works from home now so that he can keep an eye on me. I'm on medication, and on bad days they make me sluggish, unable to think and speak properly. When it gets really bad, I even wet myself.

It's fucking humiliating.

I've thought of ending it all. I don't even know how many times I've tried. I'd pick up the razor and close my eyes, but then I'd see Ichi in my head and put it back down.

I can't do this to him. Not when he keeps telling him that he loves me.

Like now. He's still whispering those words. He thinks I can't hear it if he says it softly against my lips. The idiot.

It's times like this that make me wish that I can say it back. Because I do love him. I want to tell him that I do. I've even tried a few times. I'd open my mouth, but then my voice'd die in my throat.

Then I'd tell myself that I'll do it next time.

Yeah.

Maybe tomorrow.

The End.

If you haven't realized it already, this is sort of a sequel to Happy Birthday. Thank you all so much for cheering me up when I was down. I will reply to every review when I go home. :)