Sonnet 133

by nandahimehass

This is a very brief Grelliam story on Grell's point of view based on Shakespeare's sonnet 133. I will put is as complete, though if any reader asks for a sequel I shall do so. It does not include smut -Though if there happens to be a second chapter I might include that, yes. Hope you enjoy it.

I think of that heart. The heart which, unlike mine, is made of stone... Cold marble most likely. Such heart, frozen, is the one to make mine ache. Oh! How terribly painful it is, the pain of love! But I wait, with this bleeding wound for a glance, a mere gaze or a thin smile. I sigh. I am prisoner to my love, yes. I look at him while doing my awfully boring paperwork, my quill dancing in red ink on and on in an endless waltz. He is there, standing before me.

'What is it, Will, my love?' I ask, putting down my least favourite tools.

'I am only wondering when will you be done with these last pages. I am to deliver then at the end of the day.' He says, fixing his glasses. 'It is past your time to leave, I believe.'

'I thought you'd be pleased if I finished it all today, my love. ' I say, melodically, with my eyes locked on his. 'Though it seems like in the end of the day I am nothing but trouble.'

'Not at all, in fact, it has been quite a while since you've last handed paperwork this soon. It was about time.' He mutters, in those cruel eyes. Cold, giving me hope every time I'm close to giving up.

' Good. I am glad.' I scribble a last signature at the bottom of the paper and place it at the top of a large pile. My forehead would be shining with sweat was it not winter. My lips curve in a soft smile and I let out a groan. ' Finally~!'

'Finally, indeed.' He remarks, getting the papers from my desk. 'Also, I thought you'd like to know…' He begins, glancing at the windows behind me, normally blocked by heavy curtains. 'It's snowing'

Oh, but it had been snowing for a long time inside my chest. Still I smiled, for he cared for such a tiny little thing. Thus he left, leaving me there looking for a lost scarf while I wore my blood-red coat. Such a beautiful colour, really. Many times I ran about, flirting with handsome men. Trying to hand my heart on a silver tray but… Oh, no that would be impossible for you, yourself hold my heart; And it is too your armor. The heart, such a small muscle with such enormous meaning! Ah, I die before you with a smile on my face!

Still, on the next day, you will use that very same frozen look upon me, I know. You will harm that heart with rigour knowing so and I will still be yours, and all that is in me.