He walked down the corridor of the building he knew all too well. Even if he was blindfolded, he still knew where to go. He knew the paintings that stood on the walls. He knew that the chandelier in front of him was missing two crystals, due to his reckless behavior in his childhood years. He ran his fingers over the coffee brown walls and looked down at the white tile he used to skate on with his socks.
Only this time, no one was there to welcome him home.
Then again, when did he regard this place as his home?
He walked through the back door to the patio. He sniffed the air for the familiar smell of flowers or the bakery from behind the house, but the only thing he could smell was pollution. He opened his eyes, his clouded over eyes and saw the town from so many years ago. How long ago was it? How long had he been away from here?
He walked back inside and stared at the fireplace, for what felt like hours. The rug that sat in front of it looked like it had seen too many years. The plush red fibers were now pressed firmly to the ground, like compacted snow. The color had faded away into a dull blush color. A few broken toys sat around the rug, dirty and frail from over the years. The ceiling had holes in it, and allowed the rain to come in, to form puddles on the floor. He grabbed a few buckets, and put them under the holes.
It's not like he cared about the state of the place, but he wanted to preserve it as much as he could. On his way inside, he had already spotted patches of mold and destroyed moldings. He opened each door, to look inside. Each one had three bunk beds each. The sheets were a dull gray color, and the ones that were falling off of the bed, he fixed. He looked at the beds fondly, and it would seem like he was tucking in a child. He picked up the toys and put them in the toy chest by the window.
He stood before the last room in the building, debating whether or not he should go inside. He made it seem like everything he knew was on the other side of this door. As if once he walked inside of the room, the world would collapse around him. This was the room he always feared. This was the room he always ran from.
The wind that blew through the windows seemed like cold prying fingers pushing him toward the rickety old door. Its voice seemed to whisper in his ear that everything would be alright. He took a step toward the room, his heel seeming to echo down the hall. He took another step and then another. His hand gripped the rusty knob before he opened the door. He wanted to see a stern woman with her bird-like nose up in the air and her lion-like eyes to glare at him as if he was her prey.
But instead, he saw a rotting desk and torn up tiles. The bookshelf looked like it was ready to fall apart. The large window behind the desk had several panes missing, making the icy and wet wind freeze the room. His fingers brushed over the desk slowly, with care. He remembered when the desk had first arrived, and when he made them drop it, forcing one of the drawers shut. He tried to tug open the drawer, but it still remained closed, even in the desk's terrible state.
"I've come back, ma'am." he muttered. "I didn't do anything too bad, this time. I didn't steal from the baker this week. I didn't agitate the butcher, either. The stray cats didn't follow me home. Neither did any of the officers. I did my job. I'm a working man, now. I don't have time for their silly little games. Aren't you happy? I'm out of your hair now."
He sat in the recliner that he remembered so well. He would often sneak in here to take a nap on the once plush chair. He held his head in his hands as salty tears ran down his cheeks. Smiles and songs danced around in his head as he cried for the first time in centuries. He remembered the lectures and the beatings he would receive for his bad behavior. He remembered the treats and rewards he'd get when he helped someone else.
He dug a small doll, about the size of a toothbrush, out of his coat. He laid her on the desk with the utmost care. Her purple yarn hair had strayed from her braid, making her look like a victim of electric shock. Her button eyes were now two different colors and sizes. The stuffing had started to come out of her arms and her legs looked like they had been dipped in black dye.
"I've come to bring her back." he tried to tame her hair. "I'm sorry I took her, but I just wanted something to remember her by. She meant very much to me. She was a dear friend of mine. Please take care of this doll for me."
As he started to walk out of the room, but a hand grasped his shoulder. He didn't dare to turn around, because he feared that his imagination was toying with him. He felt the doll float down into his hands and someone tightened his grip around it.
"Keep it." a feminine voice whispers.
"Grell, are you ready to go?" a stern, but soft voice asks from the doorway. The redhead snapped back into reality and hid the doll behind his back. He nodded his head and ran to his partner's side.
"Let's go, Will." he smiles.
"You've been crying." the stern man cups his face. "I said you didn't have to do this."
"I know." Grell smiles and holds his wrists. William gently kissed him and held him close.
The two left the orphanage behind. Grell wanted to say goodbye. He loved what he had become and he didn't regret a thing he had done. The baker and the butcher had passed long ago. The owner of his doll was his big sister, who he was sad to reap, but a job is a job.
Should I make a spin off of this, showing what I'd think of Grell's past? Grell before he was a Shinigami?
Tell me, please~