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It had been snowing for the last half hour.
Ulquiorra hiked the collar of his jacket over his ears. It would be warmer in Spain, but the train wasn’t due for another several minutes. He glanced at his phone before he walked back into the station. There were small shops lining either side of the atrium. Most of them displayed souvenirs or accessories to make the ride more comfortable. He bypassed those in favor of a snack shop. The train didn’t offer a dining car, so he’d need to stock up for the long ride.
Ulquiorra walked the aisles, scanning the packages, but most of them were in German. A few things were in English, but those seemed to be American imports. The pictures weren’t that helpful either. A bag of crisps had a cheese block on the side, but there was also a bottle of… something next to the cheese. Dressing? The corners of his mouth turned down.
A man chuckled behind him. In English, he said, “Not familiar with German?”
Ulquiorra glanced over his shoulder to see a tall man with bright blue hair and a wide smile. He wore a thick scarf around his neck and a heavy coat that emphasized his broad shoulders. His eyes were a dark blue, and his nose looked a little crooked, like it had been broken once or twice.
Ulquiorra faced the man. The amusement in the stranger’s eyes didn’t appear threatening, and there was a slight accent to his voice. It wasn’t quite German, but Ulquiorra couldn’t place it.
“Only the written form. I understand spoken German well enough.” Enough to muddle his way through a conversation, or ask for the toilet, at least. And a coffee.
“We do like to add to words.” The man held out his hand. “What kinda snacks are you lookin’ for?”
Very forward for a German stranger. Ulquiorra tilted his head toward the display. “Quick meals for the ride home. I’m going to Spain.” Broad enough destination not to worry if the man decided he wasn’t interested in politeness.
The man chuckled again. It was deep and rich, vibrating through his chest similar to a cat’s purr. “And snacks for in between?”
Ulquiorra felt the tips of his ears warm. He’d always been considered a glutton. His mother kept the photos of his youth on the mantle to show anyone he dared bring home. “Look at how round he was!” His metabolism finally decided to align with his appetite around age four. Now his mother called him too thin.
“It’s a long train ride home,” he turned his attention to the platform windows.
The man hummed agreement. “The crisps to the left are spicy habenero flavored. They’re not bad. The ones to the right are sweet Thai chili, and the others are from America so they’re vinegar and cheddar for some reason.”
Ulquiorra snorted and took a bag of the pepper crisps. They would hardly touch his hunger. If he didn’t spend the ride absorbed in his work.
The man seemed to think the same and offered a cup of ramen noodles and a prepackaged meal with a chicken on the cover. “Crisps ain’t enough for a skinny thing like you. Here. You can eat that second one cold, but it tastes better warm.”
Ulquiorra considered the offerings before he accepted them. “Thank you.” It still wouldn’t be enough.
He considered the displays again, paused in front of the chocolate. Those he understood.
The man leaned close, but not enough to touch. “Those are from Bavaria. Only thing they can do right.”
Ulquiorra picked up one of the chocolate bars. It sported nuts and dried fruit. He added it to the stack before looking over the rest. He began to collect one of each flavor. He could hear the man fighting his laughter.
“Sweet tooth, huh?”
Ulquiorra spared him a glance. The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled at the edges. Genuine amusement. Ulquiorra’s ears burned.
“I like chocolate.”
“I can see that,” the man bobbed his head.
Ulquiorra finished his foraging and straightened. He glanced at the man in full again. His coat was black with large, round buttons. The scarf was a gingham pattern with dark and light blue alternating with white. He could see the collar of a thick sweater underneath. He didn’t look like he worked in the shop.
“Do you work here?” Ulquiorra asked.
The man’s lashes dipped. “No. I’m taking the train to France.” He held up a bag in his other hand. It had the shop’s logo on the cover.
“The night train?” Ulquiorra moved toward the checkout counter. He paused long enough to take three bottles of water from a cooler. He eyed the sodas and decided he didn’t care what the man thought of him. He plucked two bottles of cola from the rack and tucked them under his arm.
“Mhm. And you?”
“Yes.” Ulquiorra placed his haul on the counter.
The man moved toward the exit. “Maybe I’ll see you again before my stop.”
Ulquiorra looked at the man with his sharp eyes and sharper jaw. He wasn’t unattractive, if maybe a little too self assured. His eyes flickered over Ulquiorra with no consideration for etiquette. His lips twitched toward another knife-sharp smile.
“If only you would be so lucky.” Ulquiorra turned his attention back to the clerk.
“If only,” the man placed a large bill on the counter before Ulquiorra could reach for his wallet.
He turned his head to protest, but the man was already slipping outside and into the crowd. Had that been flirting? Ulquiorra shook his head and took both his change and his food. He put everything into his backpack and headed to the platform.
The man was gone, but the snow remained. It had started to fall heavier now, and fat flakes stuck to his hair and clothes. There were piles of blackened snow on either side of the tracks now.
The train whistle sounded, and Ulquiorra looked to see it heading into the station. The brakes engaged with a loud screech as the train came to a stop. A conductor appeared at each entrance to take their tickets. Ulquiorra passed his off, took the stub back, and walked through the train to find his compartment.
The sleeper compartments started toward the back of the train. He glanced at the numbers on each door and his ticket. Number 46. The door was a dark mahogany with gold trim and no window. He checked the ticket again before opening the door.
Inside the compartment sat his stranger.
The man lifted his head and smiled. “If I’d known we’d end up in the same compartment, I would have offered to carry your bags.”
Ulquiorra’s brow furrowed. He examined his ticket. “I purchased a single sleeper.” Though he supposed this was the preferable outcome to say… a screaming infant.
The man stood up. “Did you check the icons? Always have to double check the icons. See, there.” He pointed to what appeared to be a stacked bed. “That means it’s a double.”
Ulquiorra’s jaw clenched. He muttered, “Dios.” He didn’t know there was a difference.
The man lifted his eyes to Ulquiorra’s. His smile faded. “Are you okay with sharing?”
Ulquiorra shook his head and drug his suitcase inside. “It’s fine.” He stuffed the suitcase under one of the seats, sat his backpack down on top of the cushion, and removed his messenger bag from his shoulder.
Ulquiorra sat down near the window. The man moved to sit across from him.
He extended his hand. “I’m Grimmjow. Seein’ as we’ll be sharin’ the night.” And his knife-sharp smile was back in place.
Oh, did he think that was clever? Ulquiorra offered out his hand. “Ulquiorra.”
Grimmjow squeezed their hands before he settled back into his seat, crossing his legs at the knee. “So. Goin’ home for the holidays?”
“Yes.” His mother made it very clear he was expected that Christmas. Through threat of physical harm to his ears. “And you?”
“Visiting my nana.”
Ulquiorra thought about the story of Little Red Riding Hood and wondered if Grimmjow was the little girl, or the wolf. He hummed an acknowledgment and opened his messenger bag for his laptop. He plugged the charging cable into the wall and waited for it to boot.
“We’ll have dinner at my abuela’s house. She promised to make cookies.” It had been one of the real driving forces in luring Ulquiorra home.
Grimmjow rested his elbow against the window. “You really do have a sweet tooth.”
“It’s not a sin to enjoy sweets.” Ulquiorra watched steam roll past the window. The whistle blew, and he felt the train lurch forward.
“It’s not.” Grimmjow licked his lips. “My grandmother used to tell me she would feed me vinegar if I became too sweet.”
Ulquiorra arched a brow. “And did she?”
“Maybe by the end you can tell me?” Grimmjow leaned forward.
Ulquiorra felt his ears warm, and he lowered his eyes to his login screen. “You’re very forward for a German man.”
“Lucky me that I was raised in France for my formative years.”
Ulquiorra didn’t comment. He logged into his computer and opened his word processor. The title stared back at him. Second draft was written under it. He’d been stuck for weeks now. A little part of him hoped the change of scenery would do him good.
He leaned back in his chair and felt the gentle sway of the train. Snow whipped past the window, and he stared out at the wintry world beyond. It was almost relaxing, but he knew what waited him at home. Questions, accusations. Grief and guilt over his moving away. Ulquiorra inhaled, held it, then let it out.
He placed his fingers to his keys and began to type.
~*~
Riiip.
Ulquiorra looked up to see Grimmjow opening a bag of crisps. He pulled one out and held it to his mouth. Their eyes met, and he paused.
“Want one?”
Ulquiorra wanted to refuse, but his stomach rumbled. He probably needed the break. He took a few from the outstretched bag. “Thank you.”
Grimmjow ate the crisp and braced his leg on his knee. “What are you writing?”
Ulquiorra plucked one of the chips out of his hand and held it away from his keyboard. “You’re nosy.” He bit the crisp.
“So you won’t tell me?” Grimmjow cocked his head.
Ulquiorra considered the harm, and how much he could say. “I’m writing a novel.”
“A novel?” Grimmjow echoed.
“Yes.”
“That’s cool. What kind?” Grimmjow dumped several crisps into his hand.
Ulquiorra hit save on his computer. “Horror. I’m a horror novelist.”
“Yeah? What titles have you published?” Grimmjow offered the bag again.
Ulquiorra hesitated before he took another handful. “The Hemlock Witch, Under the Rouge Bridge, and a few others.”
“You wrote the Rouge Bridge? I’ve read that one. Had me paranoid for days.”
“I think that’s been the general response for that book.” Ulquiorra hummed.
The book was about a married couple on vacation to a rural, tourist town with a secret. It leaned a little more into psychological horror rather than physical.
Grimmjow folded the crisps bag and put it in his backpack. “I’ll have to read the others.”
“I would be interested in your thoughts.” Ulquiorra felt… almost giddy at the idea. Content? Pleased? Seen. That was it. He felt seen.
He glanced out the window. The snow continued to fall. He lowered his eyes back to the screen to resume writing.
He made it through several pages before he found himself sitting on the same sentence. It needed changed, built up, but his mind was blank. He couldn’t even find a way to work around it to continue forward. Maybe he needed a break? He sighed, saved the file, and closed his computer.
Grimmjow looked up from his phone. “Finished?”
Ulquiorra rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m stuck.”
“Break wouldn’t hurt. Clear your head a little.”
Ulquiorra nodded and faced the window. The snow piled along the sides of the railway and even reached the lowest limbs of several trees.
“Does it normally snow this much?” Ulquiorra asked.
Grimmjow leaned close to the glass. His breath fogged it. “Not this fast.”
A loud noise echoed outside of the train. Ulquiorra pressed his face to the glass. A section of the hillside slid off, rushing toward the tracks.
Ulquiorra hissed, “Mierda!”
The brakes screamed. The train lurched. Ulquiorra fell into Grimmjow. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Grimmjow braced hard against his seat. The train came to a halt.
Ulquiorra looked up at Grimmjow before they separated. Grimmjow stood up and opened the window. He stuck his head out, and Ulquiorra peered around his shoulder. More snow cascaded down the hillside, covering the tracks. It looked to have just missed the engine.
“Holy shit.” Grimmjow’s hand gripped Ulquiorra’s shoulder tight enough to hurt.
They’d just missed the avalanche. His heart thudded in the back of his throat.
The intercom system crackled overhead. The conductor began relaying information, stating the train would return to the nearest station, and all tickets would be honored for the next day.
Ulquiorra lowered himself back into his seat. “My mother is going to be a mess over this.” He would need to call her before the news reported the incident.
Grimmjow closed the window and settled in across from Ulquiorra. He ran a hand through his hair. “At least we weren’t under that. I know a few decent hotels near the station.”
Ulquiorra lifted his head. “Are you really going to try a line on me after all of that?”
Grimmjow’s eyes widened. “What line?”
So it hadn’t been a pick up. Interesting. Ulquiorra’s heart rate headed toward normal. They were safe. It was fine. Grimmjow had been polite.
“Share a hotel room with me. For cost.” He wasn’t that easy. Grimmjow would have to put some effort in.
Grimmjow’s eyes turned to pleased slits. Ulquiorra could see all of his teeth. “Will you?”
Ulquiorra considered his other prospects. They were few and far between, and none of them were Grimmjow’s caliber. “And how do I know you’re a gentleman?” Not that he didn’t enjoy a good beast.
Grimmjow waved his hand. “You don’t.”
Ulquiorra rested his head against the seat while the train started up again, backward this time. Handsome, smug. Grimmjow might serve as decent entertainment. For a night.
“And will you attempt to molest me?” Ulquiorra crossed his arms.
Grimmjow straightened. Eyes wide. Too wide. Playful. “I would never!”
“Your loss then. I accept your offer, but only if you book one bed.”
Grimmjow snatched his phone off the floor and unlocked it. His eyes flickered up to meet Ulquiorra’s. There was fire in them now. “Deal.”