William loathed everything about Grell — his flashy hair, his assumptive smile, his careless behavior —, but the redheaded's eyes annoyed him the most. Will felt an unreasonable hate for that pair of emeralds, even though he had always admired this unique characteristic of them, soul rippers.
And due to this same hypnotic green, William now found himself pinned against the wall. Grell moved forward, getting closer to him like nobody had ever gotten before. The brunet refused to react to it — frankly, Will had allowed it to happen. He had the option of grabbing his deathscythe and pressing it against the neck of the idiot in front of him, but he didn't do such thing.
For William couldn't tear his gaze away from those emeralds that analyzed his face with so much attention.
Grell sighed hotly, close to his ear, before kissing him. It was an interesting experience for William – he found out that the red-haired's mouth tasted like blood, and after getting his very own lower lip bitten, he concluded that Grell liked it rough.
William never reciprocated the kiss, and the other soul ripper didn't seem to mind it, for he kept doing it. Then it became sort of a habit of them – every time they were all alone, the redheaded would kiss him, and it didn't matter where they were.
But after some time something went wrong. Will started to notice that the fun always present in Grell's eyes was fading away, and being replaced by a harsh look. He still remembered that woman, Angelina Durless, most known as Madam Red. Phatomhive's aunt. After Grell became her butler, he changed. Nobody noticed it, except for Will. He knew the red-haired with the back of his hand — he could easily guess what Grell was thinking most of the time.
So, when many souls weren't categorized by the system, disappearing mysteriously, William already knew who was the culprit.
Once more he was against the wall, but this time it was due to an unpleasant reason. William stared at the pair of emeralds, looking for any notable signals of surrender.
There were none.
Will put his deathscythe against the neck of his newest enemy, the double blades touching the redheaded's throat. Grell answered by pressing his chainsaw against the brunet's shoulder. So there wasn't any other way out of this.
"Perhaps I'll change my mind if you tell me you love me", purred the redheaded.
Then everything was blood. The red painted the wall, spilled onto the floor and stained Will's suit. He looked at the deep cut made by him on Grell's throat. The blood got his clothes redder.
He stared down into the lifeless emeralds. Will was the only one to blame, for he couldn't get rid of his pride — Grell could take his dignity, but he could never take his pride. He looked at the chainsaw pierced through his own shoulder. His legs gave up, and he slipped onto the floor, closing his eyes, finally finding peace.
William T. Spears died proudly. He died proudly for he didn't deceive that poor creature by telling him those three words.