Hi guys, more Grelliam transation on the way!
This has been written a couple of weeks ago for the "One hundred and fifty tears" multifandom+original contest; I was obliged to quote some lines form "It will rain" by Bruno Mars (that I dislike, but that song came to me in a closed packet XD ) and some key words: pain, bitter, blood, tearing, weaknesses.
It gained me the third position, so... enjoy it.
As I'm not mother tongue and anyone cheked my translation, reviews are so well appreciated!
Those two characters are property of Yana Toboso. If they'd have been mine, Kuroshistuji now would be only about their painful and superbe love troubles.
You, for me.
The sky that morning was awfully bleak. William glanced at the clouds that were worsening outside the window, depriving him even of the last rays of the afternoon sun.
He gazed back to the list of reports that he had just finished filling in, stacking and moving them onto the small table behind his desk, leaned against the wall. He sighed, switching on the lamp and picking up a new bundle of sheets, having to force his view in that dark, appropriate only for a really much later hour.
His thoughts ran for a moment to Alan and Grell, still busy with their daily harvest of souls; he wondered if on the Earth, at that time, the weather was equally inclement. William tried to remember the song that the red Shinigami had hummed incessantly throughout, the night before... it was dealing precisely with the rain, if he was right. It was a silly little tune, quite popular among London's girls at the time, but between a bunch of silly sentences about abandonment and addiction there had been something that had struck him, and that now was scratching at the threshold of his memory, trying to become clear again to his thoughts.
William shook his head as if to ward off the annoying sense of that memory, which still groped to resurface, but didn't succeeded in it. He began to slide new documents, imposing himself to focus on the job: after all, checked also that stuck, he would have concluded all of his daily duties and could have gone home, maybe even managing to avoid that impending storm.
He began to apport the necessary signatures on each sheet, not after having carefully read the contents. Well, they were reporting the collections of souls that his employees had been called to develop for that day. He checked the half-dozen people that Eric had taken care of that afternoon, and William noted that he had filled in only half of the reports. He sighed, straightening his glasses, and began to cover new sheet with notes, corrections and notices.
He finally came to the last collection of documents, that usually every day appeared as the most dense of them all. He knew that Grell liked working in the field as well as he was aware of the superficial way with which he filled in all the paperworks; so, according to his bosses, he preferred to send him as often as possible to collect souls in London, of which the city wasn't in lacking. That was also the only way to prevent him from being found in his office at all the hours of the day: at least, in this way, William was able to earn a morning or an afternoon of solitary work, free from all the tempting distractions under which Grell was used to bury him with his presence.
The Shinigami was going to mechanically affix his signature even on the last file his colleague had taken care of during the afternoon, but he stopped in midair. He resettled his spectacles on his nose while rapidly approaching the document to the face, for being sure he have not misread the data.
He rechecked the cause of death of the human being.
Damn it.
He dropped the chainsaw on the ground, unleashing an empty echo on the cold floor.
He wrapped his arms around his trembling body.
He swallowed the bile that was coming together to tears, a bitter taste that offended his throat and heart.
Everything was... unfair.
He took the paper with him and hurried out of the office, reaching the room where his employees had their cockpits for completing the forms. There he met Eric, in between being concerned and smiling, who was wrapping Alan's wet hair with something that was strongly resembling toilet paper, despite of the piccate protests of the latter.
"Slingby, I strongly hope that that is not some corporate stuff."
He saw the taller of the two men jumping and stopping in mid-gesture as he turned towards him guiltily.
"Hey, Spears! Uhm, is that ... ya see, it was raining outside and Alan's hair were all wet, so I ... ".
William stopped the talk of the blonde, who was now scratching his head, trying to clearify himself.
"Now I have no time for such discussions, but go to replace that item where you've taken it. Alan Humphries," he continued, turning to the brunette, who had taken advantage from the situation to get rid of the ignominious turban that was firstly enveloping him," you should have been back today along with Sutcliff. Do you know where I can find him? ".
"To tell the truth, I waited for half an hour to the venue," he replied, "but after I was forced to return due to today's London's weather." He grinned, passing a gloved hand through his hair, still dripping. "I got totally soacked while I was trying to find him ...".
Damn it.
"No worries: go back home and dry yourself, your left paperwork has already been completed."
William turned away and walked toward the door, seized by a sudden rush. "Ah, Slingby," he addressed him, turning his head to one side, "you have gained yourself an hour of unpaid overtime. Start now and don't assume I'll not be aware if you go home before finishing it, even if I'm not here. "
That said, he walked towards the exit of the Department.
He drew abstract figures around him, soaking the finger in the dark stain that was enlarging to his feet.
He closed his eyes, trying not to think of everything she had just thrown away.
To all the things that he would have never had.
He squeezed them even harder, his hands on his temples, trying to ignore the will that was spasmodically taking again possession of him.
Frustrations... frustrations, drowned in blood.
He was running as quickly as possible, jumping between one roof and the other, despite the strong wind and balancing himself with his Death Scythe. With his other hand he was holding the sheet with the data of the dead human, checking from time to time where the place of death was and hoping that Grell would have still been there. William paused a moment to orient himself and then immediately resumed the race, without taking time to recatch his breath.
He didn't want to risk again to leave him alone with himself, as he had done years before. He didn't want to find him immersed again in viscous pools of scarlet, laughing out loudly and tearing open the flesh of defenseless human beings.
He wiped off a hot drop that was deposited on the lens of his spectacles, going to tarnish his view. He looked up to the sky, noticing that it had again darkened, rain starting to pour out in the sultry air that had embraced the city. Something suddenly clicked in William's head.
...that song.
What was that phrase which was always repeated, so cloying that the night before it had made him shaking his head in mute disapproval?
If you walk away, everything will rain, rain, rain.
William shook it again, striving to wonder if that could be the harbinger of some unfortunate event. He gritted his teeth, slipping down from the last, wet roof he had crossed; he landed nimbly on the wooden balcony, causing some crunch in thewith his movement between the beams.
He took a pause long an infinite moment, trying to peek through the fogged and dirty glass, in the gloom that pervaded the interior of the room.
Not hearing any sound and annoyed by the ever increasing rain William entered, closing the large window behind him. He made his way groping in the thick darkness of the environment, looking for any source of light that should indicate him that he wasn't the only one to be there.
"Grell", he murmured, finally managing to distinguish the blurred outline of a door on the opposite wall from where he stood. He swept away every object that was hampering his path with quick strokes of his Scythe, until he found a handle under his fingers. He turned it over, revealing what has been hiddening inside that room.
A woman was poured on the floor, eyes wide open and hands pressed against her still naked pubis, under which a pool of blood was coagulating. William shifted his gaze to the knitting needle that lay beside her, still stained with red and whitish liquid; then he lift it up, towards the seated figure on the edge of the large bronzed bowl that was covering the larger part of the room.
"Grell", he repeated, this time with a louder voice, shaking the Shinigami from the lethargy that seemed to keep him wrapped. He turned his eyes on him, looking as if he had noticed his presence only in that moment, with his arms crossed and tightened convulsively around his pelvis.
"William", he said, almost whispering his name among those too dry lips.
"You haven't returned, so I had to come looking for you", explained briefly the dark haired man, as if it was a matter of fact, remaining motionless in the doorway of the small bathroom.
"I see", said Grell, slightly lowering his head. William saw that he was biting his lower lip, a gesture probably repeated so many times in the last few minutes to causing now a new bleeding. He had brought his fingers to grasp the rough fabric of his pants, releasing and tightening them again and again, frantically, in a gesture jerky repeated.
"This collection shouldn't have been entrusted to you", said the dark haired man. At these words Grell's shoulders trembled slightly, but his fingers didn't stop their nervous movements on his legs.
"I was afraid you would have run away again," he added after a pause.
The red Shinigami raised a second time his face on him, those beautiful eyes staring into his owns. William felt a twinge hitting some indefinite part of his inner being, when he noticed the pain, dark and bitter, which was stagnating into those irises.
With a step he was immediately in front of him, bending one knee and surrounding his shoulders with his arms. He felt Grell's hands leaning, first hesitantly, on his back, and then moving upwards and becoming a stronger presence on him. William kissed briefly the warm, fragrant skin behind his ear lobe long red hair tickling his cheek while he noticed a sob that shook the body which he was embracing.
He felt it melting for a moment in his arms, with Grell rubbing his nose against his dark jacket, still wet, searching for the warmth that was concealed under it. William felt all the empty, hidden weaknesses of his soul digging into that body, usually so forceful, making their way through his gestures and movements, always graceful and secure, up to undermine his whole flamboyant essence and to shake it over and over again, against the supervisor's chest.
William shook him a little to his own body, trying to erase the pain that he could neither understand nor explain, but that he couldn't bear to see. He knew that if it were not for him, at that time the Shinigami would have already been outside again, under the pouring rain, looking for another worthless woman who could act as his perfect victim. He knew that he hadn't escaped because he had hoped that he would have come. William couldn't have avoided to come, because he knew he was the only one that Grell would have allowed to save him.
The supervisor remained still when his employee broke from his arms and then stroked his face, brushing his soft lips in a just mentioned kiss.
"You know I could never escape again, Will", he whispered, putting his forehead near to his. "Not while you'll be there for me."
William moved a scarlet strand behind Grell's ear before getting up and forcing him to do the same, pulling slightly his hands into his narrow.
"We should go home now", he said flatly.
Grell turned backwards for a few moments, staring for the last time at the grotesque puppet dipped into the pool widening under the sink, illuminated only by the dim light that came through the open window near the ceiling. He returned to see his face, embracing his elbow with his slender arms.
"Yes", was his laconic reply, but finally he showed him a face with his almost usual smile.
William stretched his lips in turn, leading him into the other room. He stopped in front of the large, dark living room's window which he had previously passed, eying the inclement weather that still raged outside.
"Grell", he said, "it's the all afternoon that that song you've sung last night is continuously coming to my mind, but I cannot exactly remember not its words nor its tune". He lowered his face to the one of the Shinigami, who was looking at him slightly puzzled. "Do you remember how was it?".
"Hmmmh?", he replied. "I assume you're referring to Bee Bee Black Sheep, am I right?".
William sighed, sensing the irony in his voice. He known that now he was returning to his usual, irritating, lovable nature.
"No, I was not referring to the lullaby", he continued, underlining the word. "I was meaning the one you've sung earlier in the evening... the one with the refrain about the rain, or something like this".
The smile on Grell's face became wider.
"Aaah ~, that one, you mean".
He narrowed his eyes as if to ward himself from the dull sound of the still pouring rain, as for concentrating himself better. He took a breath and began to sing, approaching his face to William's one and unfolding his deeper voice .
"Cause there'll be no sunlight, if I lose you.
There will be no clear skyes, if I lose you.
Just like the cloud pass, I would do the same ... "
William interrupted him, leaning two fingers on his lips.
"The rest doesn't matter, Sutcliff," he said, hugging him again.
He ran his hand through those silky hair, the red head now draped over his shoulder.
"I think I remember it fairly well".
If you walk away, everything will rain, rain, rain.