Okay so if you've heard the song My Black Dahlia by Hollywood Undead, this story isn't based on this song. The main reason why this story is called My Black Dahlia is because that's what song I'm listening to now. Also I just made up ages. They're all immortal and I figured Alan should live a very long happy life before he dies a tragic death. Plus I love Alan so I want him to live a long happy life(:
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of the Characters here though as much as I wish I did they belong to Yana Toboso.
Tittle: My Black Dahlia
Grell Sutcliff watched as William T. Spears walked by him with the usual grunt of disapproval. He watched, those green eyes following the dark clothed man who ignored him over and over again, the man who he just desperately wanted to be loved by. He twirled his long, bright red hair and as usual, strutted to his office two floors up. He decided to take the stairs since no one really walked up the stairs of the Dispatch building. His black and red heeled boots clicked loudly on the empty staircase. He passed by the occasional reaper who was hurrying to turn in some late paperwork. One floor up he caught sight of the most….emotional….moment he's ever seen. His best friends, Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries stood in the middle of the staircase, Eric holding the smaller, leaner Alan, who was crying. Alan's crisp white dress shirt lay scattered on the stairs. Eric examined Alan closely, and so did Grell.
Alan had another attack. Poor darling. He deserves a much better than the future he has. Death would definitely not fit the little guy. The Thorns of Death has already reached his shoulder, he thought sadly.
He stood there, debating wheather or not to say something and help soothe the shaking reaper, or turn around and walk away. He decided to turn around and walk away. Alan was well over five hundred and has lived a long happy life with Eric and his deadly disease. Grell guessed was Alan's time to go now.
Grell turned on his heels and headed back down the stairs as he heard a very faint but kind of loud, "Sutcliiff!" yelled by William. Grell scrambled down the stairs and dashed to the elevator. He repeatedly pressed the 'up' button.
This is my chance, he thought excitedly, to see Will! He practically bounced in the elevator as the automatic voice said, "Now on level thirty-three." The doors opened with a ding, and Grell was out in a matter of seconds. He took a deep breath-he didn't want to seem too eager to see the Division Leader that loved to scold him so much. Sometimes, he wondered if there was even a sparse drop of love in the brunette leader. As he marched to William's office, he thought about this.
William never so much as glanced at any of the, Grell had to admit, beautiful women who worked ten floors down with a spark of interest. Just the same, cold, green-eyed glance. There have been a few dirty glances thrown at Ronald Knox, though, Grell wasn't really concerned about Ronald. Ronald was just the coffee boy.
Grell arrived at William's office in a few minutes. Remembering last time, he summoned his death scythe. There was no way in Heaven, Earth, Hell, and the Shinigami realm was he going to go in freely after William had attempted to choke him when he didn't do whatever paperwork he did right. The modified death scythe appeared in his black gloved hands. Still blood splattered from the Jack the Ripper incident, he kept it by his side as he entered without knocking. He froze mid stride as he caught sight of that two-tone haired coffee boy perched comfortably in the busy Division Leader's lap, his hair being stroked lovingly. Grell watched every stroke, envying the small blonde/black boy with goofily large black glasses fitting on his nose.
How unfair! I've worked here for almost three-hundred years and I went to school with William! The boy is only one-hundred, two hundred years younger than Will! How the ** does this little brat catch his attention that I've been working forever to earn?
Slumping in a chair in front of the large, dark brown oak desk cluttered, yet organized, desk. Stacks of papers lined the sides of his desk while medium sized picture frames of William and that retched Ronald. He had a few pictures of his team stuck on the frames. The light blue walls were covered with pictures of Alan and Eric on vaction that they yearned for for years. Grell was really shocked that he actually hung the one picture of the two half naked at the beach. Only one picture in the whole office was the red-head's favorite. Undertaker had taken it at the scene of a murder Grell had done during his rampage of anger and jealousy.
Someone cleared their throat, and Grell snapped back to reality.
"Sutcliff, what is this?" William asked harshly.
Grell snatched the paper away to study it. He handed it back and shrugged. "Don't know. Can't read it."
"So, this is not your work, then?"
"I don't doodle on my work."
"Then who does?"
"Eric. He's a dern good artist too."
"Eric's been temporarily fired, remember?" Ronald butted it.
"Yeah, but he still has paperwork to do even if he's fired. You know that time you got fired for, like, ever, and it took three people and six trips to get all the paperwork you had to do and report back to me when you got back, Knox?"
Ronald looked down .
"But what I was actually calling you down here for was to tell you to stop. It's never gonna happen," William said sternly; Ronald beamed and leaned back against the supervisor casualy.
Grell sunk, mentally, lower in his chair. With a nod, he left the office and headed back to his own to sulk, perminantly giving up on his quest for his one love.