Author's Note: Alright, be forewarned that this story contains lots of angst, violence, and mature themes. I'd like to thank Sorryll for helping me develop the plot…so thank you!

This is an actual story that I've planned out from begining to end, unlike my usual works...and I do not own or make any profit from Kuroshitsuji

. . .

Everything had started with a simple, four word question. Well, five really, since he started the sentence by saying Will's name.

"William~" The voice was all too familiar by now. A high pitched squeal, and the last letter of his name being drawn out. Only one person he knew did that.

"What is it that you want, Grell Sutcliffe?" Will asked without even looking up from his papers. Grell stood silently for a moment, simply watching the other man scribble down notes as though Grell wasn't there. "…Mr. Sutcliffe?" he repeated, this time lifting his gaze to the red-haired shinigami standing in front of him. Grell stared back, twirling a piece of long hair between his fingertips. "Did you come here to ask me something, or are you just going to stand there?"

"Can't I see my friend without having a question?" he sighed, seating himself in the leather chair across from Will's desk. The dark haired man could tell that this would be an instance in which Grell was not going to leave unless drastic measures were taken.

"I'm very busy, Grell." he said curtly, hoping, but doubting that a cold tone would get him to leave. Of course, it didn't. Instead, Grell made himself more comfortable, crossing his legs in an effeminate manner, and ran a hand through his hair with a drawn out sigh.

"You work too hard, Will." he stated. The comment struck Will as odd, though. The way he'd said it had been so…calm. It was not like Grell to talk like that. "You should learn to relax and have a little 'fun'~" he added with a wink, and a small laugh. Will rolled his eyes, for that comment was more like the Grell that he knew.

"I work the perfect amount, Mr. Sutcliffe." he muttered, going back to his notes. Part of him wondered why exactly Grell had taken a liking to him. Will was never particularly nice to Grell… actually he'd never done anything to warrant any sort of admiration from the troublemaker. So why did Sutcliffe insist on bothering him all the time? Will shook his head, and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he added, "It is you who does not work enough."

"Yes, but I'm more fun than you and we all know that." Grell replied nonchalantly. Will frowned, moving the sheet of paper he'd been writing on into a file before picking up another. Grell may have been disturbing him, but that was not going to stop him from getting work done…or maybe he was…

Gloved fingers grabbed the piece of paper from his hands, and Grell leaned over the desk, placing his other hand on top of the other stack of files so Will could not take another.

"Mr. Sutcliffe, please get off of my files. You're making a mess of things again." Grell leaned in closer, any consideration of personal space had gone out the window. Will felt his stomach drop as the other man pulled him forward by his necktie. "G-Grell Sutcliffe, if you please! Let go!" he said, trying to break free from the grip. It was no use, though.

"Actually, William, I do have a question for you." he purred, batting his eyelashes. Will pried himself away from Grell's hand at last, straightening his tie.

"And what would that be?" he snapped. Grell smiled, and tilted his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "If you don't have anything to say, then leave. I'm busy."

That was when he'd asked it.

"Will, how did you die?" The dark haired man's eyes widened in utter shock. It was almost a rule that the topic of a shinigami's death was not to be brought up. It just wasn't something to talk about. Such a thing as death was personal. Will was silent for a few moments, wondering if Grell had really asked him such a question. Eventually he found his voice,

"Mr. Sutcliffe that is hardly the appropriate topic."

"Oh come now, William, it's not that bad."

"This is not something I am going to discuss with you, Mr. Sutcliffe." Grell rolled his eyes, and rested a hand on his hip.

"How many times have I told you to address me as miss Sutcliffe?"

"How many times have I told you that you are a male, Grell?" Will muttered, grabbing for another piece of paper. His annoyance with the other man was growing exponentially.

"Does that really matter now, Will?" he paused a moment, staring his superior down. Will cleared his throat.

"The topic of my death is not something that I am going to discuss with someone like you, so drop the subject and leave, Mr. Sutcliffe." Grell stomped a high heeled foot against the marble floor, the noise echoing in the large office.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Sutcliffe!" It was rare for Will to raise his voice in anger, but when he did Grell was instantly quiet. The dark haired man stood, adding an even more frightening feature to the situation. There was only one other time that Grell remembered being truly afraid of Will, and that was after the Jack the Ripper case. "That is enough! You will leave my office immediately, and you are not to return unless you have a damn good reason to. Have I made myself clear?"

"Y-yes." Grell stuttered, walking to the door as fast as he could short of running.

Will returned to his desk, shaking his head as he sat down. He didn't like getting angry, for it only gave him a headache afterwards. Not only that, but now he was angry, and confused.

Why would Grell of all people care about his past? Then again, perhaps the fact that it was Grell who had been asking was reason enough. The shinigami knew no bounds, of that Will was sure.

"Honestly…" he muttered under his breath, finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on work now.

Will's past was something that he had not thought about in a long time. Quite frankly, it wasn't something he wanted to remember.