Bloodied Black Lily

by Red Cookies

Grell finally gains Sebastian's love, but what happens when William confesses to Grell that he loves him? Will he be forced to choose between the two? Complications will arise in this love triangle. Sebby/Grell, Will/Grell. Warning for future chapters. (Hiatus until further notice)

10. Falling Down

N/A: I am so sorry for updating so late; I really did plan on updating much earlier…but the revival of my personal life, art, disturbances in my schedule, and a cat in heat yowling at night that no mate can silence didn't help. By the way, two blackouts, and three nights without internet last week…good thing my phone lived, if only for five hours of overuse…

That cat is mocking me, I know it.

…And if anyone didn't know, Chapter 9's title (a reference to the play Macbeth) is a phrase that conveys a depressing mechanical beat of time, the original text meaning that life's only goal is to meet with death (in the last chapter meaning 'all good things must come to an end', but shorter and less cliché).

Now, here's a whopping 16k long chapter you all deserve!

Warning: Offensive/derogatory language later on. Like…way past the half of the chapter. You'll know.

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"What seems to be the problem?"

The unnerving silence that flooded the area broke only thanks to the demon's curious words, though one deathly glare given to Sebastian hardened, still.

In that one alley, dirty and grim like the rest of the murky streets, a human could have sworn the air was heavy and thick enough to cut even with a dull, rusty knife. Street rats seemed to avoid the welcoming slime of the cobblestones there by instinct, and they did well in trusting them. Against an aged brick wall of the isolate path, two very alike, yet very different, immortal beings faced each other; one glass-bearing and clearly infuriated, the other placidly cool and smirking.

A death God and a Demon stood, each with their own thoughts and completely unaware that the sky was beginning to thunder with equal building rage. All one petrified reaper could muster was to quiver with dread, knowing that he could do nothing now, only watch the cruel play in front of him.

In allegoric value, Grell was the author of this tragic play, and now he was forced to watch from the audience as the scene he created acted out, no matter how much he loathed it.

Unavoidable like death, but a fate much worse.

Regardless of a fruitful author's requests, all was done, and there was no last-minute editing to do. There can be no regrets in the production, and no preventing it either.

William can tell.

He understood the situation perfectly, for the demon had so easily and recklessly informed him of it…their courtship. Grell was infatuating over the foul creature once again, and it looked like this time the collared beast was playing along with him. It simply didn't make sense to the upright, visibly irate man, to put trust in a shaky foundation. Demons are not creatures to be trusted, and they clearly state they follow their own philosophy, and no one else's. They can easily change their opinion if it benefits them.

Doesn't Grell know that he can't trust them? That he should never trust their selfish kind? That for a demon, love is just an empty word with no meaning?

Shouldn't Grell see that they have no heart, incapable of feelings, only fulfilling wants, needs and impulses?

Doesn't he understand that he could get hurt again?

Sebastian can tell too.

He can unmistakably see that the nosy reaper is angrier than he has previously displayed. And through the corner of one eye, he can catch Grell cowering behind him, slumped into the wall with misery, or is it fear he smells? It is most likely because he just admitted they were together on a date to the other shinigami, and now Grell was going to suffer the consequences for both of them. For breathing each other's air, fraternizing with 'the enemy'.

The bold servant admits that perhaps he shouldn't have answered mister Spears like he did, daringly and without a care, but as a demon, it was part of his aesthetics to never lie. There was no denying the use of loopholes and paraphrasing, though. He liked ambiguous questions and orders.

Besides, there's just something about that brunette reaper that ticks him hard. Something that irks him to bother the little bothersome prick.

The smile on his face was even beginning to twitch in annoyance just looking at his kempt appearance. It was no longer an amused, placid smile; the crevice was shifting, only kept to hold the illusion of control.

He understands why reapers hate demons, and yes, demons loathe reapers too, mutually. They share a common goal, for different ends but nonetheless, same: a human's soul. And death gods absolutely despise the hell-bound cretins for making their jobs worse, not only eating souls, but killing unnecessarily and piling stacks upon stacks of reports and files that should never exist. Demons didn't understand the need for such an organized life; it was useless to them, but then they really didn't live in an orderly way.

Perhaps some of the gifted hate lay buried in the past too, but demons tend to forget about history. They see no meaning in remembering things long gone, only the present mattered.

It was just instinct now. To live.

Every demon felt the same way; they couldn't stand the gods that looked down at them, naming them trash of the world. Only living to destroy, eat and soil. But Sebastian can feel something more for a shinigami, something a beast like him hates to acknowledge.

Jealousy.

For having power, enough to choose those who die and those who can't; an immortal power sought upon by every conceivable being, mortal and immortal, to be able to bring death to an adversary, or just have the satisfaction of granting a permanent end.

For some, death is revered as the first step towards the eternal life, what humans call the life after death. Others bow in awe as they venerate its pureness that sows the land, that which restarts everything back to its original roots, that which every living, breathing organism shares knowledge of: all that lives, in the end, must die. It shapes the humans to acknowledge and grow with it, to live every day to its fullest or waste it entirely, never thinking about the inevitable end. It is morbid beauty, and what has the sheer blessing of eternally granting death?

A Death God.

And a demon will never have that. Respect.

Death can be taken as a blessing, a peace of mind to finally realize that the suffering of living will soon end.

Demons can only rip and shred into ash all that is considered 'good', causing a suffering for the living, most of which will name them a great evil, abominations, sin.

Hated.

No one will ever need a demon, not really. A promising human only needs one to grant their selfish wish in exchange for their soul. Give or take. And that is the true reason demons and death gods can never live hand-in-hand as compatriots. No matter what circumstance, a demon will always be just that, a foul, deceitful beast undeserving of love.

And nothing could ever change that.

It was just instinct now. To live with it.

If there was one thing that Sebastian could never understand, and only recently began to appreciate, was Grell.

How could someone who was his enemy by blood ever want him? Ever need him? Ever love him to such a great extent?

He doesn't need to question it further; Grell is the only being ever to see him as a beautiful lover, and never as a disgusting pest. He is the only one ever to take his opinion, even relish in hearing it. And it is with a heavy heart that Sebastian admits, only to himself, that he feels a little guilty for causing Grell so many problems.

He just has to break that instinct, somehow.

Grell can tell, truly tell. And he should, for he caused this.

He knows that he will lose something precious today, whether if it's a friend, a lover, or something more.

He hates that William is angry with him, at Sebastian.

"My problem is, what do you mean by 'date', demon?" William finally spat, after one long look at the red-eyed beast. His eyes softened slightly peeking at the red figure behind the slender demon.

Grell, why are you hiding behind him?

He hates that Sebastian urges William on, like he knows he would do.

"Why, exactly what it means, mister Spears. I was on my way to take dear Grell to a shop until you rudely interrupted us," the butler answered, his slanted eyes gleaming with unadulterated murder. The plain smirk riding his face didn't reach his narrowed eyes. "I would've thought better of such a respectful shinigami. Do I really annoy you that much?" Sebastian formed a fake pout, which would never convince anyone.

"Shut up," was his quick, growled reply.

It was rather obvious testing William was not a very good idea, but before Sebastian could ease the rising fury, he was shoved roughly to the left with the tall reaper basically running into him to reach Grell.

He did not take well to being pushed aside like asparagus on his master's plate.

"Grell", William started in a lower voice, "What are you doing?"

The alarmed redhead took a few seconds to contain the constant shaking. He opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it shut once again. His meek voice was sure to fail, and…what was he going to say anyway? That what Sebastian was saying was true?

He just couldn't will himself to speak. To hurt William's feelings.

But if he didn't say anything, he would still hurt William.

"I'm sorry," William heard from behind him, "But I thought I just said that," then he felt a hand grip his shoulder, "We are together."

Something about that phrasing didn't seem right.

Irked once again, he slapped the hand away and swiftly turned to face the other. The glass was really starting to spill over. "What do you mean by 'together'?"

He couldn't possibly mean that way…could he? He's just taunting him again…right?

Sebastian let himself chuckle at the display of agitation. His conscience was screaming at him to not say it, but the little sadist in him was having too much fun with the situation.

He felt the little stab of guilt in his chest again.

"Is it that hard to figure out? I mean 'together' exactly how you're suggesting: casually, romantically," he stopped to give a heavier smirk," and sexually, of course."

Oh, that was the last straw in the goddamned haystack, for pure emphasis, There was clearly a vein about to burst on his forehead, but then he heard the last few words, Taunting words were just unnecessary foulness and—

Wait… Did he just say…?

"You…you've coupled?" He whispered with a most incredulous stare, eyes widening a margin.

His grip on the deathscythe tightened as a scowl tried to shape its way to his stern face. The odd reaction caught Sebastian's attention though, for he had expected the suited reaper to start pounding him instantly with his scythe, which a part of him was looking forward to take. If anyone should get punished, it should be him and not Grell. The theatrical reaper had done nothing wrong after all, he can't help what he feels, no one can.

Putting two dogs in a small cage wasn't a good idea.

"Yes?" Sebastian answered hesitantly, unsure of the reaper's sudden stillness.

It was proven that his previous assumption was correct, and now William was just experiencing the calm before the storm. A hissing whip whizzed in the air as the versatile deathscythe shot forward so fast, Sebastian barely had time to react to it, too caught off-guard by the sudden attack. His neck had been spared of the extended weapon but his shoulder had not. Its bottom shear grazed the top of his tailcoat's lapel and scraped part of his right collarbone, surfacing some blood and staining both the scythe and the black cloth red.

"How revolting," venom racked in his voice, as if the venom would seep into the new wounds he created to further pain his target. He abhorred the demon's cocky attitude, and the mere thought of Grell writhing in pleasure, submitting to this…this…

It was enough for his muscles to give in and slash at the insufferable fiend! That lowlife…was stealing his lover?

William removed his scythe with some hidden disgust, both for the blood now on his deathscythe and the thought of his Grell sleeping with that. He would have to wash the porcelain skin of his partner eighteen times, enough to burn bright red, with tile detergent! And even then he believed Grell would still be tainted.

In the middle of his bathing formula, 'that' was starting to press at the fresh wound with one hand and a frown in his direction. Without concern for the demon, he turned his head to glance at the aforementioned shinigami now behind him, trying to find some kind of explanation in the shorter reaper's face. Grell was known for his flirtatious ways but, to actually sleep with someone… Had he been seduced? Forced?

Grell snapped his attention back from his thoughts when he heard a muffled tear of cloth, and glass-green eyes widened at the sight.

He had not seen that William had made such a move towards Sebastian. He was too caught up thinking about how to phrase this situation, but now he needed to calm this senior before things got too out of hand. And they would, he knows, in a matter of seconds.

"W-Will, wait!" Grell desperately tore the scythe from William's hand, which had slackened seeing the other in near-panic, "P-please don't hurt him!" The plea surprised William greatly, enough to show in his face.

Grell didn't know what to say, what to do to make it all better. But he didn't want to see anyone injured, so he just hunched with the scythe tightly against his chest and pleaded again.

"Please…don't," he croaked with as much sentiment as he could put into words. It was the only thing the heeled reaper could think up at the moment, to take the only weapon in sight and secure it. But there was still danger afoot. There are more ways to hurt someone than with a scythe.

He hated how powerless he felt, how utterly useless his head was, unable to think of even a simple excuse or explanation. Or even to just confess that he was seeing them both, and have that heavy weight taken from his shoulders.

The worst pitted feeling was that he felt cowardly. Grell was too afraid of what would happen if he said anything.

William stared at him as the shorter clutched his pruning deathscythe with force. The dark-haired reaper wanted an answer, but Grell was refusing to look at anything, he just continued to grip the scythe with tightly shut eyes. Could it be that…?

Sebastian watched with some puzzlement at his frantic lover. And…there was something odd today about Spears…the way he was watching Grell attentively. On that same thought, Grell wasn't acting like himself either. He was quite desperate to tear the sheared weapon away, but there was a lingering feeling in his stomach as he watched the other reaper start to caress Grell's head.

"Alright," he soothed Grell with a hand, trying to sound as quiet as possible. William stopped comforting Grell to leer at the only other person in the alley with bitter eyes. Something inside Sebastian's head clicked together, and he leered back at the reaper, understanding something more of the present situation. Being good at guessing things didn't mean he liked what he guessed.

Another thick thunder rumbled in the clouds.

"Does this mean that you, Spears, have feelings for my lover?" A sharp tone shadowed the spoken words, seeing the way the mentioned reaper hid Grell behind his wider back.

William took a second to clear his throat in an attempt to regain some composure, noting how the Phantomhive butler was turning acid. "I'm sorry, I think now you are misunderstanding. Grell is my lover, not yours, nor will he ever be."

Sebastian actually snarled, somewhat hidden under the continuing cast of cries in the gray clouds. So he was correct, the little hound claimed Grell to be his own, but that alone raised many questions.

Had Grell been with the reaper since long before, or was this relationship new? Had he intended on seeing them both, at the same time?

The butler was fairly knowledgeable with Grell as a loose spirit, and with that always in mind, he made sure to keep things interesting since it was possible that, if he lost that sparkling interest, the exciting redhead would flutter away from his grasp, bored and seeking new surprises. That was one of the reasons he kept a heavy flow of gifts at his disposal.

Since he didn't really understand a heart's inner workings, he tried to be thoughtful and watchful, perfect in every angle. Keep a respectful eye on his red Juliet, catch every little detail, and memorize all those different actions and reactions. Flatter with gifts, shower with affection. Or was it shower with gifts, flatter with affection?

Could it be that Grell had lost interest in him?

Somehow that thought carved a whole deep in his stomach, and his fresh cut pulsed with a stinging burn. He kept a wary eye on them, observing William as he shifted his gaze constantly towards Grell.

The sight made his chest unbearably tight and his heart sunk like liquid iron into his stomach.

Was he not as perfect as he ought to be? Was it all too much? Too unnatural?

Did he ever really have a chance to be with a reaper?

"Grell, what is the meaning of this?" The words came out louder than the butler intended, and he felt his lips pull down in a frown with each word.

Lifting his gaze from the ground, olive eyes, darkened with the dim light, glossed over with what could be restrained tears. The red-rimmed glasses had slipped to his nose with his lowered head, blurring his vision, but they worked to hide smudged black lines from constant rubbing; with a stray flash of lightning, it appeared that his lower lip bled slightly from biting it with his teeth, toying with it unconsciously as he fought the doubt fluttering in his head again, plaguing his thoughts. Once the lightning died out, all that was left was a dark, thin line in the shadows of his lips.

Many possibilities existed, but he just couldn't keep quiet any longer. They needed to know and, even if Grell was terribly afraid of what would come to pass…

It was unfair for him to keep quiet. He was lying by not saying anything, by just playing the King in chess and being happy with a stalemate. Neither a win nor a loss, just trapped like a hunted rabbit in a hole. It was cowardice, and Grell was no coward.

He was bold, daring, unrestrained.

That was who he was.

Taking a second to swallow the heavy lump that formed in his throat, Grell gathered his scattered thoughts and breathed deep, keeping his voice as straight as possible. "I… William, before…"

He had to say it, and it ached him to force the words it out his lips, but he still smiled weakly with moist eyes.

Grell hated this, the hated so many things about this moment, in front of William and Sebastian, his weakness bare for them to see. But the one thing Grell hated the most was himself.

That was why he smiled; it would all be his fault. Not Sebastian's, who was quietly watching him from a few feet, or William's, who had turned and was waiting for him to start.

He had to smile for them, betray his wretched self. Because they were not smiling, and they wouldn't smile, not now, maybe never, he would smile for them too.

Never was a long, long time.

"What…what you've said is true, what both of you said is true," Grell closed his eyes to match his smile in a playful gesture, queer to the grief present in his voice. "…I'm sorry, but I haven't been very honest. W…Will, before this past month, I had been with Sebastian…as he stated…f-for a long while…"

The hesitant reaper paused to let those words sink into his oldest friend. He hoped that his senior wouldn't react too badly, but all hopes went up in flames when he saw the shocked look on William's face.

"N-no, wait, Will! It's not what you think!" He rushed to try and shed more into the light. "I wanted to tell you, really, I did, but I didn't know how to put it…and I was just so happy that you finally returned my feelings…"

William had returned to his cold façade, and Grell felt scared, unable to read the other reaper at all now. He didn't want to make William mad, but then, he didn't really know how he would react, if he would be angry, or something else entirely. Grell only wanted him to understand, "I just couldn't build up the courage to say it."

The face he had built after years in his position. That same mask that hid anything his mind kept; the barrier between the world, and his most private of possessions, his thoughts, was his greatest defense.

Grell didn't betray him. He betrayed Sebastian; if anything, he fooled William.

He felt like an idiot, for thinking that Grell had learned to keep his word. Grell had said, promised even, time and time again, that no matter who he infatuated over, he would always come back to him, loyal to the end. It was one of the few things that was stable, over the years and decades. One of the things that was certain, no matter what. The faithful puppy that always came back in the morning after escaping late at night.

He's really outdone himself this time. He's really, really outdone himself this time.

All he could do was hide behind that mask, watching with a darker light.

Was I right to love him? Was it wrong to let myself be dragged by him?

Aren't I just a 'backup' to him? If he lost that demon, did he think I would take him back, like nothing happened? Am I the stupid one? Am I mistaken?

Was I right to take off this mask, to show him my true feelings?

Inside that mask, saddened eyes would have showed.

But…

I still love that idiot…

Sebastian had nothing to say.

So his lover had spent the month with someone else. It didn't surprise him. So Grell had forgotten about him for a whole month and returned to him like nothing happened, tail neatly tucked between his legs like a secretly shamed cat visiting a second owner. Something about it all didn't surprise him in the slightest.

After all, he was a demon. He had betrayed many others, humans and demons alike. He had tricked humans into deals and contracts that were purely one-sided, picked at souls from the streets for being easy snacks, and fooled many women's hearts into spilling their secrets out to the night's sky. He was detached, shelled into a ball that never felt the world, only saw it from a distance. A globe in his study, only for him to spin and watch, use as he pleased.

He saw everything else live, he saw everything else move, breathe, touch. Nothing touched him, nothing moved him; it was all a display, a game of sorts, and he was the master of the board game.

It was a risk to let himself be a piece in the game, to let himself 'feel'.

Yes, he could have fun; demons can find many things joyful, entertaining, and they can even fall in love, if they want. But they can also be hurt, feel pain; they can be broken, crushed, lied to. But who would want to feel pain, who would want to remember bad things, painful things? Who would want to be on the board and risk being used, manipulated, thrown away like a toy?

Sebastian feels used, he feels forgotten, like a toy.

He doesn't like that feeling.

"Then Grell," the quiet demon started to say, "Did you ever intend to tell me just what you were doing?"

Wide-eyed, Grell turned to the demon. "Se-Sebastian!"

Needless to say, he was shocked. Had it sounded that way? Had he focused so much on how William would take it, that he forgot about Sebastian's feelings? "It's…it's not like that!" he yelled out at Sebastian, but more to himself. Had…had he really forgotten about Sebastian?

But Sebastian didn't listen to him. He tilted his face to the side, ignoring him. Grell felt infuriated with that.

"I love you! And I love you too!" he yelled at the shaken reaper, who looked at him, surprised with the statement. Why are they so impossible to please? "I can't help this feeling; I can't help that I love both of you. And I feel ridiculous for saying this, but it's my eternal curse, having such a greedy heart! But…I suppose that's just like me… I've always secretly wished to have two men after me."

He gave a bitter laugh, bringing the scythe in his hands down to his stomach. "I love you…I love you both too much, so much it hurts. Please understand, I couldn't deny any of your feelings. I…I wanted to have both of you… It's my fault." Grell lifted his eyes, watching the gray world blur again. It slightly annoyed himself, feeling the moistness in his eyes. God…why do I have to be so teary-eyed…I feel so weak…

So he loved them.

William felt a bit foolish thinking that Grell thought of him as just an affair. What in the world had made him think that way? He wasn't the type to get depressed so easily. Being around Grell for so long was starting to affect him.

He still wasn't happy, but, his heart was in a better place.

He wasn't about to share Grell either.

Sebastian felt somewhat reassured, but not enough to split a grin. He was still hurt, being forgotten like that. Wasn't being lovers enough of an excuse to keep other men away?

Well…he really didn't know how long they've known each other, Grell and the workaholic. He didn't even know how long his thoroughly-confused 'woman' had been waiting on William; longer than they have been together, for one.

He wouldn't forgive the brunette reaper, for taking his mate. Even if the man really didn't know Grell was taken.

He didn't take well to sharing.

A small drop of cold moisture landed on the butler's nose, distracting him. He glanced at the sky and noticed the thunder stopped, but the clouds looked heavy and dark. It was starting to rain, how fitting.

William was the first to speak.

"Grell… I believe you, but I cannot accept this. I…I refuse to see you if you continue to court with that fiend."

The shorter reaper gaped at William's words. "B-but Will—"

"I agree with mister Spears," added Sebastian, which surprised the two gods, "Grell, you can't have both of us. And I will not allow it either."

Vermillion eyes appeared opaque, dulled like the gray skies above them. "You need to choose one of us as your lover and leave the other."

Grell was left speechless, but a deep, small part of him knew this was coming. After all, both his lovers were extremely jealous men. However, that was one demand his heart was not ready to face yet. "Y-you can't just tell me to go pick one of you and part with the other for good! I…I can't do that…"

"You have to, or we will," William muttered. "Please, try to."

The skittish redhead looked to his left, where Sebastian firmly stood with a blank face, then changed to his right, where William was poised. He noted with some concern how the white shirt visible around Sebastian's chest turned an alarming shade of red. And he was concerned over William too, but not the same way. Rather, it worried him that his bespectacled senior looked a bit glum. Perhaps the right word was wistful, or melancholic. William took his previous news hard.

Grell didn't know that Sebastian was the one who was feeling worse for wear.

But…did he have to choose right now?

Well, Grell began to elaborate, William can be mean sometimes, not that I mind getting the cold shoulder from him –he's just so hot like that–, and he's not exactly the most romantic person around…but he can be sometimes. I know that it's because he doesn't know how to show it. Will is just so cute like that!

And…he has always been there. As my friend, or just my supervisor, and even as a shield. He always cared for me, he just never said it out loud. Every time I caught a glimpse at that rare nice side, I fell even more in love. It gave me hope that he felt the same way, and he did. Oh, yes he did.

But then there's Sebastian. Sure, at first it wasn't so serious, Sebby himself would've never allowed it, which…kind of made me sad –I mean, it was like he was on an attack on-sight command!–, but then things just…drifted nicely. He slowly, and hesitantly, warmed up to me and, although he rarely told me how he felt, like Will –God, they're the same, quiet with their likes and very vocal with their dislikes–, I just knew he started to like me.

And, maybe he doesn't really know what to do. I mean, he's a demon after all. Demons don't exactly have a doctorate on emotions, much less on love. But he tries, so very much. And…Will, too, is clueless, but he also tries…! They…they're much more alike than I remember…

Grell looks from one to the other briefly, trying to make up his mind, even if just a little, But if I can't choose, they will, and…if I think about how Sebas-chan is and how Will reacts…

They'll end up fighting, mercilessly. One might end up killing the other…

No, no! I don't want that!

But…who do I choose? What do I do?

The flustered reaper restlessly fiddled with the pruning deathscythe, clenching and unclenching his hands around it. In the end, it was impossible for him to decide, especially right then and there, but he refused to accept it. Because if he didn't choose, they would choose for him. And that would not end nicely.

But Grell really couldn't imagine himself without the other. It ripped his insides apart, thinking that he could never see one of them, ever again. Heat rising to his face, Grell lowered his head, ashamed.

Either his heart was deeply connected with both of them, and it really was impossible for him to pick one for himself, or it was foggy and unsure, unclear of who really possessed his heart.

"I…can't. I can't choose like this…"

The two rivaled lovers secretly felt relieved at Grell's sincere reply, but then the next task would prove to be a difficult and painful one, because Grell would not approve.

As William was about to declare their personal war, an idea suddenly came to him, a rather hopeful idea. He thought, Grell was just under pressure, and because of that, he was unable to think hard and long enough on his decision. Maybe…it would be the same…but perhaps if Grell was given enough time…

William dared to look at the demon, hinting that he had a solution, hopefully, for Grell to take. If not a solution, then preparation. Sebastian nodded slowly at him, partially interested in what the reaper had to say.

"Then, if it is alright with you, we will give you a week to think it over," he calmly suggested to Grell, and Sebastian understood. It would give each of them enough time to prepare for the result, whether if it was rejection or the eventual death match. Grell, though, didn't seem to realize this intention.

"W-what?"

"Seven days," Sebastian answered for the other shinigami, burying his hand in his pocket for a moment to gather his pocket watch. Popping the watch's cover over, he registered the time to be ten past noon, then closed it again, "Today is Saturday, so you will have until the clock strikes midnight on Friday. Does that sound fair?"

Grell wanted to scream no, that he would still remain the same, but his lips formed a different word altogether.

"Yes…"

The red-eyed butler pocketed his silver watch, "Good."

"Then," William took back his scythe from Grell, seeing that it was no longer necessary to restrain it, and grabbed a loosened red-clad wrist, startling Grell, "You're coming with me."

"B-but Will!"

"But, nothing," William began to pull Grell with him, despite how resistant he was being, "You are to return to our Realm immediately and go about as you normally would. And you will not be allowed to see neither him nor me while this week stands, is that understood?"

Green eyed widened at the given orders, staring defiantly at his superior. "You won't change my mind with that," the taller reaper muttered, starting to drag Grell with him, with some difficulty.

He stared through his bangs back at Sebastian, who had not moved an inch from his place. Grell wanted to resist because for some reason a part of his head was yelling at him, saying that he wouldn't be able to see the demon again, that he still hasn't spent his promised day with Sebastian, or even half of it. He tried to pull out of the strong grip on his wrist, but with all his struggling, it only clamped down harder, painfully even. With one last struggle, he tossed his head towards Sebastian, almost swinging the glasses off of his face, prepared to cry out for the demon to help him.

But then he saw Sebastian clearly.

His gaze was fixed at him, standing firm, and the stained white shirt looking even worse. But what really got him were those eyes. Those beautiful red eyes that first entranced him to the demon, which always gleamed with joy, whether from sadistic pleasure, hunger, bloodlust or laughter.

They lost all their light.

They were dark, raw, unmoving.

They were sad.

And then he realized…that he didn't just hurt William.

He crushed Sebastian.

Unaware of his limp state, Grell continued to stare at the chilling garnet eyes, even as the scenery began to change, and the gray colors cleared little by little. All he could picture was that sorrowful stare, something he had never seen before, and that it was his entire fault. He thought first and foremost, that they would be mad at him, ready to maul each other's faces, and even his own, but…

Maybe…all he did was betray them, all he did was trample on their feelings…

He worried so much about the hate, the anger…he failed to see what really happened.

Even with the painful grip on his wrist, which dulled his muscles, his feet felt like lead, dragging and stumbling under his weight. There was an unbearable heat wave surging through his face, and the world clouded under fresh tears.

I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…

---

Atop the old chapel, a distance away from the dark alley, the livelier one of the two men began to shift from his place on the ceiling. If one was close enough to glace at the brunette's face, they would see a poorly made pouty face adorning his features; poorly made, because it was obvious he was amused.

"Oh, little fruit, don't look so down. Someone will catch you, but for now, stay high in the sky," he sung aimlessly to the wind. The words were directed to someone who couldn't possibly hear him, but the strange man acted as if they had, "Right, Seere?"

The taller, much quieter man stood still, only giving a few slow blinks in his fidgety partner's direction. The sky had finally decided to burst, and a light rain befell upon London. "Of course, sire."

The loyal words, an answer he's heard too many times from him, didn't convince the brunette. He gave a low whine, not pleased with his 'pet' in the least. He changed the bored look for an entertained one quickly, reminded of the scene he just witnessed. "You know, it was a good thing that I had you attend that human Earl's ball a month ago. Although it was only to observe the few contracted demons in London, my little Seere ended up finding my lost fruit in the bushes!"

"I am forever at your side, sire," was a flat-toned, smooth remark.

Again, his loyal pet was boring at times. "Yes, yes, your formal ways never seize to amaze me."

Taking his eyes off the lone demon now in the alley, he bore a strong stare into the icy-blue eyes of his servant's, pocketing his gloved fingers snugly inside his black trousers, although thanks to the rain, it was proven a harder task to accomplish. "Do me a favor and take me back, I feel dreary in this gloomy town."

Lips twitched to reform the smug grin he always bore. He will have his fun, once the time comes.

Frozen eyes without even a shadow present in their irises shined with an ominous translucent fuchsia, pupils slit like a cats. A light French accent lingered in his next words.

"As you wish…mon père."

---

The trip back wasn't very pleasant, but Grell wasn't about to complain. No matter how much he wanted his discomfort be heard, a deep, small part of his brain kept telling him that he deserved this much.

His thin wrist had been gripped too strongly, causing a heavy throb through it that forced the compliant reaper to follow. It might have been the lack of circulation in his hands, but Grell could have sworn that his fingers were white as snow under the black glove.

The Shinigami Realm came into full view as he was dragged by his wrist sharply, led to his assigned room after some time, hallways upon hallways that made him dizzy. The aching in his hands seemed to increase with each hurried step that he took, and the one staircase that led to the sleeping quarters actually made his head swim, the taste of bile faint in his tongue for the next minute.

William was being relentless, wringing him along by the wrist like an angry parent, not knowing how much his grip and pace hurt the small child. But Grell was no child, and he was not small. One swift pull threw the nervous prey clumsily to his living room floor, and the door closed shut as the blood started to pump to his freed wrist.

William stood at the other side of the closed door while Grell struggled to stand with a numb hand, heels catching with his coat in the first two steps.

"Will, what are you doing!" he tried, yelling through the wooden barrier, the sound of his loud voice echoing back in the small room. It came frail and panicked to his ears, which made Grell wonder for just a moment if William also heard him like that. He certainly felt that way.

"You will stay here for the rest of your 'day-off'," William calmly stated, beginning to muse with his glasses.

After gaining the feeling in his hand, Grell shot forward and tried to pry the doorknob open, but it was locked shut. "You can't keep me locked in here! William, please let me out!"

The mentioned reaper pocketed his partner's key in his suit, taking a deep breath to ease the tension present in his face. He didn't want to lock Grell up, but knowing him for as long as he has, Grell needs a moment to process everything.

William didn't enjoy acting like the bad guy, but…someone needs to let the frisky reaper know how serious he was, and how serious this situation was. He might have accepted, even if just a little, that Grell was seeing a demon in a relationship, but no one else will.

He was being considerate, if anything, of what Grell wants, and not what he needs. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

William might want Grell more than anything, anyone in the world, but there is no cheating in this game. What Grell decides will be final, and getting on his good side would only mean he isn't playing fair to…Michaelis, who isn't able to come to their Realm so easily.

It was why Grell decided on taking days off for himself, to see his 'Romeo'. The whole ordeal was obvious now, to his eyes.

Grell's cries and pleas from the closed door died in his ears, but they never went unheard. He may have been a cold man, but he wasn't heartless. Each and every word dove straight to his heart, cracking what was left of it.

Grell hated being alone, and William hated leaving him alone.

"I'm sorry, but you will stay there until tomorrow, and tomorrow…" he took a silent deep breath, but his throat still felt closed, "Tomorrow we will be just co-workers."

Inside the closed room, it turned as quiet as a grave. If there was anything that William was thankful for right now, it was the door between him and Grell, for he was sure that he wouldn't be able to stand seeing Grell's crushed face.

When there was no answer, William figured that Grell must have broken down in the other room, not wanting to be heard. He started to leave when he heard something that felt like a ton of bricks crushing him into ash. It was such a quiet voice that wrecked…everything.

"Just co-workers? Figures you would want to forget everything."

It left him quiet, baffled.

Speechless.

Forget everything?

How could he ever want to forget Grell? Every single great moment of his long life was lived with his red-loving friend, giving him memories worth remembering. Every single worst moment was caused by his insufferable partner's hands and words, doing and saying things that should never be done, and said.

He wanted to correct him, to yell at Grell for even thinking that he was that insensitive.

But nothing came out of his mouth. He couldn't speak.

William leaned against the door, defeated, destroyed. Through the thin gap, he could hear faint crying, paused only by a small chocked chant he was able to catch, even as just a broken whisper.

'You just want to forget me…You just want to forget…'

That was the final blow.

---

In the dark. Quiet. An echo of a click.

His feet willed themselves to reach the bedroom, without thinking, without a reason. They were rested on the floor, like they usually would be, as he sat on the edge of the bed still in his work clothes.

He wasn't going to bed; he was just sitting here, thinking. In his own world.

William was not the kind of man to do something without a means. He didn't idle, he didn't think twice, and he wasn't really very emotional, or good with words for that matter.

Perhaps Grell was his exact polar opposite, then. The smaller reaper tended to be too forward, he expressed his opinion, no matter how unwelcomed it was, and did many things just because they looked 'fun' or 'interesting'. That last one was both a good trait, and a bad one.

At the moment, the seated reaper was holding a small red ribbon between his fingers.

Had William been as concentrated, or conscious, with where he stepped, he would have seen the slightly-ajar drawer that stood near the doorway inside the bedroom. A very inconvenient place for one, but small rooms tended to be inconvenient too.

And had he been careful, or alert, he wouldn't have run into the open drawer, torn part of his left sleeve, and cast the same drawer onto the ground, spilling the pressed shirts, ties, and a long-forgotten strip of red cloth.

It took him back to a time when he and Grell had been considered close friends, if you take into consideration how isolate William is, and was. That time wasn't the best of times though.

The hallways were more crowded then, since there had been a full dispatch department at the time. Most of the other reapers worked on the field, and there was less demand for reports, unless it had been a fairly recognized human individual who had been reaped that day, or mass soul gatherings. And Grell, being a fresh reaper straight out of the academy, didn't have many souls to collect, only to assist his seniors when help was needed. Although, when help was needed, it wasn't Grell who was sent to the field.

The red fellow stuck to hanging around William, who had been indifferent to Grell's advances, even his sudden declaration of love. Just because Grell confessed to having a crush on him didn't mean that their fair relationship as friends and co-workers was ruined. Though, many of the other co-workers who found out his 'preferences' took it to either ignoring the poor redhead, or pushing him away.

William was also the only one who didn't start looking at him like he was from another planet. Or worse, a disgusting abomination.

Back then, and even now, people didn't take well to a man loving another man. You could say that there were many hardships between Grell and his fellow comrades for a long, long time. There still are, sometimes.

"Hey, Will~," a familiar pitched voice rung from a distance, catching the busy subordinate's attention. William had been in the middle of pouring a cup of tea when his attention was diverted, some of it spilling when a red mess of hair collided against him in a crushing hug.

He could only sigh, already used to being trapped in his friend's clutches, although, he groaned out of frustration when he saw the spilled tea, "Sutcliff, you really should stop appearing out of nowhere."

Grell pulled back from his powerful embrace, shining fine, pearly whites that would scare any other normal man into a trembling puddle of goo, "But that's my thing!"

After pouring another cup of tea for the new company, Grell started talking about his morning, how terribly awful his hair was and how it took him nearly an hour to comb knot-free. He came up with the excuse that 'he's just getting used to the longer hair' and 'it'll be easier once I get a nice conditioner'.

William felt like he was talking to a female co-worker and not the strong, rather fearful man he had been paired with for his final exam back in the academy. Then again, back then, which really wasn't that long ago, the queer fellow was just as…queer.

Through the door, he could see some of the other reapers sizing up Grell, to which he narrowed his eyes.

He felt responsible for his friend.

"Hey, sweet cheeks, how's the ass grinding coming along?"

Grell didn't need to look up from his desk to know who it was.

"Get an afterlife, Banter," he grudgingly ignored, going back to redoing part of the report he had messed up before. 'Banter', full name Bancroft Terence, was one of the more open people with his dislikes.

Grell didn't understand why the light blond picked on him. He never did anything wrong to the man who was his senior, in fact, he never really spoke to him, only in the mornings, when they rushed to get to work on time.

That was before he openly declared that William was his and his alone. Why was that enough to make people look at him weirdly, he didn't know. But he was starting to get tired of the constant pestering.

It's not like he changed overnight, everyone else did.

For a second, Grell gave a faint smile. Everyone except for Will.

Coming back from another lunch break, Grell finds the reports he was working on before to be missing from his small desk. And so was the pen, and his ledger, and his black coat.

He was the outcast, because he was different, both physically and mentally, because no one else had hair-raising blood-red hair, because no one else had unusually sharp teeth, because he felt like God messed up his gender. And sometimes, because no one bothered to listen to him.

Looking down on the desk, he saw a scraped up word that very clearly read FAG.

He wasn't gay, he was one hundred percent straight. If he was in the right body.

It's not like anyone bothered to listen.

Sitting down in his desk, Grell decided to rewrite the report, simply because by now, it most probably was trashed, burned up, or God-only-knows what.

"Hey, sodomite, how's the paperwork coming along?" Another day in the week, and Banter was at it again.

This type of interruption was normal now, but never welcomed. That man, and anyone else who utterly despised him being a 'fairy', tended to pester him just enough to drive him near the brink of snapping back with a sharp and rightful punch. But then, that was what they wanted, a physical dispute big enough to jeopardize what was left of the victimized reaper's position and prestige.

No one would take his side, no one but his self-proclaimed boyfriend, which wasn't enough in his favor. William had told him time and time again, avoid problems, control your emotions. Avoid problems, control your emotions.

Grell dared to face his superior this time with an exasperated frown playing on his face. "Would it kill you to just say my name, once?"

At that, the blond huddled his gloved hands in his pockets, "Why should I? Everyone already knows what you are."

A snort came out in response to the word 'what'. He says it like I'm a different species. "Oh, my bad, I forgot that fairies don't deserve names," sarcasm dripped from his lips like honey. Now, if only that honey was real and poisonous so he could throw it at his infuriating senior, preferably in the eyes.

"Sheesh, you don't even know why you keep getting paperwork, and you expect me to call you by your name?" There was a snide tone in his voice; that tone always irked Grell.

Green eyes narrowed behind red-rimmed glasses, "What do you mean by that?"

"Are you that stupid?" The comment was not taken nicely, nor did it sound nice, "Did you seriously think anyone would want to partner up with a drag queen like you? When was the last time you went on the field? Three months ago?" There was a laugh at the redhead's surprised reaction, "All you do is write paperwork for everyone. You're not a reaper, you're a pass-along secretary!"

Grell was shocked. He had been left to do paperwork in favor of his seniors, but…was it because of that? Because he was 'gay'? They didn't want to be partnered up with him because of that?

He refused to believe it.

"It-it's not because of my preferences!" he yelled a bit too loudly, attracting attention. Some people stopped in their tracks at the outburst.

"'Preferences'? How cute. You still think that way," Bancroft patted Grell's head, like a child, which gained him a low warning growl. The hand quickly clenched to grip a handful of red hair, and Grell snarled at him loudly, feeling a hot sting where some strands were pulled out. "Wake up brownie, and smell the shitty air! The only person who would want to partner up with you has a stick up his—"

"Mister Terence, respect your junior." The hand instantly let go of his hair, and another, much gentler, landed on his shoulder, reassuring.

Some of the other reapers continued their way, a disappointed look hidden in their faces. William stood a full inch over Grell's assailant, and he used it well. Height was one of the reasons he was respected despite his rank. "Now please give the right example and go do your paperwork."

A loud scoff escaped Banter, taking one step back casually. "Speak of the devil," he whispered outside of earshot. That was all he did before going back to his workplace.

William finally released a long, frustrated sigh and rearranged the two ledgers, his and a new one for Grell, under his right arm. That guy was starting to get violent, and he was getting worried about it. "Sutcliff, here's your… What's wrong?" He saw that his effeminate friend's glassy green eyes had watered, tears withheld and still unshed.

Grell felt ashamed for allowing his eyes to water. His head hurt slightly from the strong grip but it wasn't enough to make him spring tears; what had bothered him was that Banter might not have been lying.

"Nothing, just that jackass."

"It's not very polite to insult your seniors," William chided.

Grell channeled the chilling stare he was giving to the ground towards the taller reaper. "It's not very polite to insult juniors either!"

William didn't say anything about that, the rabid shinigami was right. Instead, he decided to put Grell's new ledger on the small desk and wait until the anger died down, and the other's eyes were clear of unwanted moistness. After a few quiet minutes of watching Grell knead the floor with the sole of his shoe, he chose to speak carefully, "…Are you mad?"

The new glare he got was just as intense as the last one, which made the brunette wince from the visible rage, "Am I mad? Do I look like I'm having a wonderful tea party?"

"No," William averted his eyes from the blazing jade ones, but kept his neutral face, "Sorry."

Grell's anger lessened towards his former partner. He really couldn't stay mad with Will around, whether if it's at him, or at someone else. It's like his icy personality cooled everyone off.

Once the redhead felt moderately tolerant again, he playfully punched William's shoulder and offered a smile. "What are you apologizing for? You're not the one harassing me every free period."

"Obviously," William rolled his eyes, rubbing his punched shoulder. Grell's 'playful' hits are synonymous with hard, though Grell doesn't know his own strength. "I just feel like I should apologize. I feel like it's my fault."

"Will, it's not your fault, it's nobody's fault that I like you," he sighed, "It's just… I guess it's just one more thing people have against me."

With Banter spitting profanities at him, his other seniors dumping all their work on him, and the rest of the department ignoring everything related to him, Grell was starting to feel…rejected. Like he really was unwanted here.

How do you live if no one else wants you? How can you live if no one wants you?

"Do you think it was a mistake that I became a shinigami?"

William refocused his eyes on Grell; dumbfounded, he just continued to stare. What is Grell going at? "Well…I mean, I'm obviously never going to fit in. Never have, and everyone either mocks me, or fears me. Is it…is it possible that I was just an accident?"

"What are you saying!" the questioned reaper almost yelled, "You're the first shinigami ever to get an Ace, two in fact, on your first scythe-wielding practice! Handling souls is innate for you; not to mention you have excellent combat skills and deathscythe coordination. The only bad part is that crass temper, you get carried away with it, but even that is helpful at times. You'd be one of the best reapers in the dispatch, if…only your paperwork wasn't so sloppy…" he trailed off with that. Grell's paperwork was ghastly sometimes. At least…he was getting better.

An odd sound caught William's ears suddenly, and then he realized that Grell was laughing. It was off because the series of hiccupped chuckles were different from the redhead's usual laughing fits. "You know, I think that's the first time I've ever heard you compliment me so well." William frowned, and Grell kept laughing. "Thank you."

The taller reaper indignantly huffed, thinking that Grell had been laughing about what he said. "I was only stating the truth. You really do have a crass temper."

William didn't know that was the first time Grell laughed because he was happy.

A door opened and closed in the bathroom, and the cheery reaper stopped washing his hands to acknowledge the new company.

The new company was not welcomed.

"Oh, it's you," the blond disappointedly called, his feet tapping on the tiled floor. Work restrooms were fairly clean, spacious and rarely filled, five or six people using one daily.

"I'm just as disappointed, Banter. You're ugly face gets on my nerves." Grell turned to dry his hands so he could bolt out of there…except his hands were still soapy.

The tapping stopped and a soft tsk echoed on the walls. "Says the red fucker with shark teeth."

Bare hands removing residual soap with an open faucet froze, fingers twitching. Alright, I've had enough.

Grell gave up on his hands and swiftly pivoted on his black shoes to glare at the blond, "Yes, Bancroft, I have a thing for guys. I get it already, it pisses you off. Everybody gets it. Now why don't you go pick another hobby before I put my big, pointy shark teeth to good use?" Unexpectedly, and even obnoxiously, Banter started to laugh, "It wasn't, a joke."

An offending finger landed on Grell's chest, pushing lightly, but enough to make him wince. One look at his taller senior was enough, he got the message through, a message that clearly stated, don't touch me. Bancroft didn't care though, he just grinned in his sadistic pleasure.

That look made Grell scoff loudly. This guy's capable of jacking off to my misery. Hff, homophobe's just as bad as me, hell, worse.

"You're such a tease! You don't scare me; I know just as much as you do that you won't dare to; and get yourself in a bigger mess? Ha!" This time, the whole hand pushed him back, his side sliding against the smooth counter where the sinks were. Grell's anger was starting to boil. Don't touch me, bastard. "Go ahead, bite me. Nice and bloody, so everybody knows."

Grell was about do just that; his nerves were itching to hurt the blond, bring some kind of pain to shut him up, but he couldn't. If he did, Banter would use it to his advantage and complain to their superiors, and he wasn't sure if they would listen to him either. His hand clenched, suppressing the impulse. "Oh, you're not gonna? Is wittle Red too scared?"

Baby talk, Grell thought, how mature.

The urge to roll his eyes kept ringing in his head, but Grell refused to do it. He wasn't going to stop sending glares.

The glares didn't make it, Banter snorted with a scowl. "That bad boy act is getting old, real old. Get a new one."

"I don't think you realize but it's not, an act. Banter," he practically spit acid in the name, shaking the hand pressing him off of his chest.

"And I don't think you realize it but you're a horrible liar." He received an ever sharper leer. By now, Grell's face could make a twelve-year old cry, send a hungry tiger away, and make a rattlesnake coil up before burrowing in a deep hole. Two sets of eyes narrowed. "You don't intimidate me, Queeny; it's just you and me here."

His next words pulled a nerve. "No one wants you here, cock knocker."

Cock knocker? I'm about to rip yours off! Grell took one deep breath to stop himself from saying that. Control, control…

"That's not true, there's at least one person that doesn't mind me, and appreciates me too!"

The echo of their word brawl reached one certain brunette, who peaked by the door to the washroom to see what was the commotion.

"Oh, you mean your little boyfriend?" He pushed Grell back again, this time his lower back connecting with the counter, "Do you really think that dear William cares? I bet he doesn't give a fuck; actually, I think he's tired of you too. I think he doesn't even like you. You're just baggage to everybody, especially him."

Picking key words to further instigate him, Banter accented each one with a sharp shove.

Grell was slowly losing to his building rage. No, but he still kept holding himself back, Control… "Stop. It."

"No, you know what? He pities you!" Shove.

"That's…that's not true!" Con…control…

"Well, what do I know? Maybe he's a fag too. He's gotta be the only one who bothers to talk to you, hell, he's the only guy that hangs out with you. Do fags stick together, or someth—"

Ever seen a glass spill over? This glass spilled, fell over the table and broke into hundreds of cutting shards.

"Shut up!" There was pain, almost immediate, then a piercing noise ringing in his ears. Then there was a second aching, in his side, and he realized he was on the tiled floor, blood trickling down his nose. He looked up, astonished. William heard the smack of skin and the thud of a body hitting the floor from outside. Thinking of the worst, he rushed in, about to speak up, but one look at the situation said it all.

Grell had punched him, hard.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" He was lifted from the ground by a dainty hand, strong for a dainty hand, "Don't you dare call him that, you asshole!" And again, Bancroft met the floor, but before a solid shoe could make it to his ribs, William grabbed Grell and pulled him away, interrupting the fight, "You're just a fucking brat! He's a thousand times more of a man that you! You irritating, bitchy jack—!"

"Grell, stop!" William found himself struggling with his grip, but the blond was gone and out of sight, tail tucked between his legs, and his strength faltered then. "That's enough!"

The furious redhead pushed the hands holding him off, "No, it's not! Not until he bleeds five pints!" But William grabbed him again before he ran out the bathroom after Banter. "Let, go!"

"Calm–calm, down! Calm down!" Grell shook him off this time, but didn't go anywhere. He just stood there, refusing to look at the brunette. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Grell hissed, "I just hate that little dick."

The taller reaper stopped himself from scolding Grell; he's heard much worse from that same mouth. At the moment, he was worried about Grell's temper. He's been tempted to fight before, but not enough to wish to kill someone. There was brutal murder written all over Grell, and something about it screamed that the redhead would not hesitate, in the slightest. "What happened? What did he say this time?"

Grell kept quiet for a minute, still refusing to meet eyes with William. It took that much time for the imminent fury to dissipate, at least enough for him to think straight again, "…It's nothing. Doesn't matter."

He started to walk out, not wanting to talk anymore, but a hand grabbed his upper forearm. The short-tempered shinigami stared at the hand for a long time, before lifting his eyes to finally look at the mirrored green eyes.

"You're lying."

He couldn't take it any longer. He was tired of holding back, tired of the insults, tired of doing nothing. Tired of his useless seniors and tired of silence.

The hand slowly lessened its grip, and his body instinctively moved closer, catching William in a hug.

He was tired of all the hate. Of the knowing looks, stares and whispers.

William was slightly surprised by the sudden embrace, but he returned it, somewhat. He wasn't experienced with personal space being taken up, so it was a shaky hug, at first.

He was tired of being treated like an animal. Like he didn't exist. Like he didn't feel.

A few minutes of silence ensued, mostly because William had no idea what to do about the situation, and the redhead kept nuzzling in his neck, which was uncomfortable to the simple reaper.

Grell was the first to break the silence, hesitantly, and stepping back awkwardly, "…Can…can I ask you something?"

"Anything," William answered as he patted his suit's sleeves, glad that the uncomfortable air was over.

"You…don't hate me, do you? I mean…you don't get in trouble because of me…r-right?"

"Of course not," he deadpanned, quite clearly, "What could possibly make you think that?" Grell frowned and looked away. William knew what that meant, "Was it Terence?"

The silence he received was answer enough, "Don't listen to him." If the runaway tried anything, Will would defend Grell as eyewitness and say it was self-defense. Grell might not have known, but their department supervisor was testy about work interaction, not individuality, and William had been talking to him about the building agitation in the workplace.

If there was a nudist in his office, he couldn't care less, just as long as no one was bullied, instigated or causing a disturbance in the work area, all was good. Their supervisor would not stand for Terence's behavior, and he won't.

"But…it's just that…" uncertain, he sighed. Grell was starting to feel depressed with it all. "He's not the only one, you know? And…and I'm just so tired of it. I…am I better off dead? I-I don't—"

"Wha…Grell. Don't you ever think that." Grell was shocked out of his slump by the two hands hooked onto his arms, "Ever."

William was giving him one earnest look, determined to shake that thought out of his friend. Dead? How could Grell even think that? Grell was many things, but he was not suicidal.

The red-haired reaper found himself with moist eyes again. At least he had someone who wanted him, and the only one that mattered.

From the looks of Grell's watering eyes, he must have said the right thing. Or the wrong thing? William noted in his head that he needed to read a book on why people cry… But then he saw the light pink tinting Grell's cheeks and the quiet 'okay' he peeped. He thought, maybe he's doing something right.

"…Can I ask you something else?"

William blinked this time, and realized he was still holding on to Grell's arms. He quickly, and awkwardly, let go with a coughed, "What?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Something strange happened to Grell. He heard something he thought he would never hear out of his sweetheart. It was caught between gasped breaths and wavered without air.

William was laughing. Really, genuinely laughing.

"What's so funny." Grell asked more as a statement. It made him a little angry. What is so funny?

The somehow-amused reaper wiped the corner of an eye, tilting his rimmed glasses to the left. It was odd but he just started laughing naturally, how undignified of me, he thought.

It wasn't anything that Grell said, but his childish–no, childlike innocent question, it was just so…what was the word?

"You're asking the wrong person. I don't know what pretty things are." He saw Grell give a pout and he chuckled again, I think I know what the word is, "But I'd say you're very charming, when you're not interrupting me from work, that is. Cute, even."

"C-cute? I don't want cute!" It may have been a nice compliment, but 'cute' was not what the wrought-up reaper wanted. A child is cute, a puppy is cute. Even dresses are cute. Women are not to be called cute. They are either pretty, beautiful, or gorgeous; cute is just too little of a word! "Is it this ribbon? Here!"

He untied the red ribbon that was done where his tie should have been, and practically threw it at Will, were it not light and soft, so settled for pushing it onto the taller man's chest, "Am I cute now?"

Taking the ribbon, William still felt that puffy warmth in his chest that was making him laugh, "More so than before. Yes."

"Y-you! You're impossible!" He simply refused to be called cute and left him there in the washroom, bursting out of it with an exasperated grunt.

"And I thought that he liked compliments," William frowned. He looks at the red ribbon, and frowns deeper. "What's so bad about being cute?"

Grell didn't know he was the only person that got compliments like that from Will.

In the present, William felt a hot trail of moisture run down his face, rubbing his thumb over the red silk he kept as a memento of that time, of the first time he laughed. It was silly in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to ever rid himself of that strip.

"How could I ever forget you, bloke."

---

The rain had relentlessly poured down in London, even reaching the Phantomhive manor. It was just past one, but the dark, thundering skies made it seem as if it the sun was fleeing from the harsh weather. It looked like nature finally acknowledged that summer had arrived, and welcomed it with a bang.

Sebastian didn't really notice. Nor did he notice when he opened the front doors that he was leaving a trail of water along the corridors. Although Bardroy had, and failed to catch the butler's attention in order to tell him.

The cook also wondered what was in the large box he held.

Before the silk-haired demon knew it, he was inside his given room, opening the package to examine the shoes. Well, boots…heels?

He wasn't really sure just what it was, only that it was very glossy, reached the knees and had long, thin, high heels that Grell once referred to as 'stilettoes'. It was unusual, somewhat provocative and sultry, making his young master gawk when he first saw them displayed in a questionable store as they were just walking down the streets in search for a new top hat.

The heeled monstrosities, as his master named, quite frankly screamed 'for mature audiences only', both repelling customers and attracting curious, perhaps perverted eyes. But the strange footwear held one distinctive trait above all the others.

They were red.

He was positively sure that Grell would melt over them.

Ah, but now he can't have them, Sebastian thought, rather glum. He was angry at the redhead, at first, but now there was an inexplicable hole where his heart should be, or at least that was how it felt, seeing as how it would be impossible for his heart to have disappeared so unnoticeably.

If he could put the feeling into words, Sebastian would say that something shriveled up and died inside him, rotting. He frowned.

What an unpleasant feeling.

Storing the box in his closet, he came across the red dress he forgot to return, and with it, resurfaced some memories he would much rather leave inside his head. Remembering their last date made the hole bigger, and he shut the closet before it became worse.

Stupid human emotions…

Another blank moment passes, and he finds himself facing the young earl in his study, who was surprised to see him without the flashy reaper, though he was more surprised to see the state of the wet butler's damp clothes.

It took another few seconds to register his human master was speaking.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Ciel's visible blue eye widened, surprised that his perfect butler had been distracted. "Sebastian, are you alright? You seem quite disoriented, and I asked for some tea." Truth be told, Ciel was actually worried; all his butler did once he entered unexpectedly was position himself where he usually stood and drift into his own world.

Bowing in apologies, the demon butler left to prepare some tea, as requested, and further dug into his mind. His body moved automatically, the routine action embedded into his being already, and reached the kitchen easily, without his notice. The action was done, albeit slower, but complete, and he headed back with a wheeled tray to the boy waiting for his drink.

During the way, a strange part of him started thinking.

This week. Grell has a week to make up his mind…and if he does…would he pick me? It doesn't seem like he would, or would he?

…Though…even if he does, what can I do about the distance? He is a reaper, and has a responsibility as one, as do I to the humans I contract to; it would be the same as it was before. We would continue to keep this relationship a secret, and stay apart.

A wooden door is opened, and he steps inside with the tray, But…if he were to choose Spears, he wouldn't have to hide anything, he wouldn't have to wait, or plan… He could move freely…

After pouring the warm drink, he places the teacup on the desk, With me…he has to sneak around…and it's risky if someone finds out. With me…

"Sebastian."

The mentioned butler returns to the young boy's side, bowing, "Yes?"

Ciel takes a small sip from the tea, Jasmine he recognizes, he turns slightly to face his butler, "Really, there's something wrong with you today; you didn't even mention what tea it was, or knock before entering. It's rare of you to be so distracted."

Much to his chagrin, he saw the child was right. He had been too immersed in his thoughts to even knock before entering the study, something the meticulous servant always did.

He was embarrassed. "My apologies, my lord. It will not happen again."

Ciel nods in agreement, "Yes, I know." Then he remembers that Sebastian was supposed to be with someone else. Had the plans changed? "Sebastian, where is Grell?"

Though he was a child, he was able to see the demon hesitate on his answer. "He…returned to the Realm he belongs in."

"He returned?" That didn't seem right. Grell tended to stick around a little too long, for him to leave early is…not right, very odd. "Did something happen?"

"It does not concern my lord; it is a personal matter, and he needed to leave," he replied smoothly, even with an aching chest.

"Personal matter?" Ciel repeated for himself, and saw his butler nod. Does it have anything to do with how Sebastian is acting now? "What personal matter?"

He received no answer. "Sebastian, tell me," the dark-haired boy demanded with his authoritative voice. "In detail," he added quickly, knowing how this demon liked to leave him dangling halfway.

Sebastian gave an inward sigh, "Yes…my lord."

Ciel momentarily flipped when he saw Sebastian sit on his desk. He was about to say, well, yell something about how improper it was, but he cut himself off, thinking that Sebastian never did inappropriate things on purpose.

It must have been pretty important.

"Since you insist, my lord, an unexpected person happened to meet us in the streets of London and…some things were revealed, for both sides, if you would so kindly leave it at that."

But Ciel did not kindly leave it at that. He kept bothering the demon about it, like any curious child would. Now, normally he would never refer to himself as a child, but sometimes, it was a smart excuse to get his way.

It took a while, more specifically almost half an hour, but the young family heir, proud of his detective skills, managed to dug out that the 'unexpected person' was that odd reaper he formally met in the circus investigation last winter, William T. Spears –he also noticed the venom that came out of Sebastian's lips with pronouncing the name–, and that the 'things revealed' were in fact, some things that he would rather not like to know in his young life, including sexual affairs, and his butler's pessimistic attitude.

"So…you're telling me that, for the past month, Grell cheated on you with that other reaper, and now you two decided on playing tug-a-war?" Ciel summed up, one eyebrow high in the air in a questioning matter, except it was the one covered by his bangs so it just looked like he felt concern for the demon. Which, perhaps, he did. His seated butler nodded in agreement, elbows rested on his thighs, making his back look slightly hunch. From the looks of it, Sebastian Michaelis, his proclaimed-invincible demon, was beaten by a broken heart.

How ironic that the one thing that can kill a man is what can give them life. Even more ironic was that such a useless emotion for a demon could cause its downfall.

Love. Such a strange emotion. One that can cure hearts and bring so much pain.

"You know, that doesn't surprise me," the boy added, a mocking tone overtaking more than he had originally meant. He flinched some when he saw Sebastian's solemn face grow upset, and he could feel a bit of hurt in that fallen stare given to him.

Great, now I feel guilty for making him feel bad.

Sebastian was not amused. He did not need his human master's ridicule, he could do that to himself alone. So the demon just lifted his body off of the study's desk, apologized for using it as a chair, and went back to his everyday position behind his master.

He just wanted to get the day over with and go crawl in a hole, decide whether to die there or not.

"Sebastian," Oh, what now? "What are you doing sulking around for?"

He felt the right to be angry at that, maybe slap him for it. What is he sulking around for? It's not like he wanted to sulk, it's just a normal reaction, and Sebastian would dare say a normal human reaction, to his dilemma. One can't help what they feel. It's just natural.

Before he opened his mouth to retort, Ciel had stood from the big, plush chair, which gave a slight creek of the wooden legs rubbing against the carpet, and faced him, skin color hazed by his butler's shadow over him in the dim light. The small amount of light that came only thanks to the window slithered around the black fabric, but with Sebastian being much taller, and much wider than Ciel, no light reached his slender frame. Instead, it gave the butler a more menacing look, and his, that of a cornered prey.

Ciel did not heed though, nor was he cornered. He stepped forward again, unaffected by the sour look he was given in response.

"You still have a chance right? You said that Sutcliff was going to pick one of you two, right?" Sebastian, showing some confusion, merely nodded again.

Really, sometimes giving advice to someone unwilling to take it was hard.

Slightly frustrated by the height difference, the young earl snatched a black tie with one hand and pulled it towards himself. With that, Sebastian could only bend down to comply, though he was still angry, and one small, free hand came at him, slapping a pale cheek harshly.

The action, unexpected as it was, caught the demon off-guard. For a human, and for a human such as Ciel, the strength behind the smack was abnormally great; it left him frozen in his spot, with a reddened cheek, unsure of how to take the meaning behind the sudden strike. His cheek stung bitterly enough to cause a dull ache where his recent bloody wound dwelled, though perhaps it was because his neck twisted a bit too fast, and now the healing muscles screamed in protest.

Ciel only gave him a formidable look.

"Then stop it this instant! You can fight about it with that red menace after everything's said and done, whether you come out the victor or not! Be confident! That Sutcliff loves you and he tells me too often already; in fact, I'm positive that he annoys me with it just because we are contracted and he complains that I keep you all to myself, or something. But right now, you are my butler, and a Phantomhive butler performs his tasks smoothly and flawlessly."

Ciel took a break from all of his talking, rather winded. He was starting to remember that goofy grin that spoke volumes upon volumes of how 'simply wonderful' Sebastian was and how the redhead would like it more if he hurried up and achieved his revenge or, as it was so politely phrased, 'kick the bucket already'. It was a strange thing to be remembering now, but it was what made the thirteen-year old think that Grell was genuinely in love with his butler.

Maybe part of it was because he didn't know about adult affairs, but he couldn't understand why Sebastian had to be so pessimistic.

"Besides," Ciel began again in a meek voice, releasing the tie and regaining his previous respectful position, "Being sad doesn't fit you."

Sebastian blamed it on his current chaotic blur of feelings but, he felt touched that his master was actually trying to cheer him up. Although he was sure the boy would deny it if he was questioned about it.

It could have been that he was just unhappy with his butler's sudden incompetence, or that he was genuinely worried about the demon's peculiar mood. In spite of what could have been the reason, Sebastian pulled one of his smirks, both for comfort to the young earl and for his current amusement with his master's interesting, and unpredictable ways. Suddenly, he didn't feel so bad.

"Hey…Se-Sebastian! You're bleeding!" At the words, Sebastian looked down where the slight sting in his shoulder was coming from and saw that, yes, he was bleeding, quite a lot. In all his ramblings, he forgot to change the shirt, washed out from the rain, and to patch the cut up. The abrupt twist of his neck before seemed to have opened the wound.

"Ah, I forgot about that."

---

After finally being left completely alone in his home, the first thing Grell did was collapse on the small sofa in his living room, suddenly too tired to walk. He aimlessly traced the edges of the walls with his eyes, watching the shift from light reds to dark reds to textured reds, all the red colors in this room alone.

They did nothing; all those beautiful reds did nothing to make him feel better, or even just stop his crying.

William wanted to forget him. He wanted to forget ever loving him, all of his troublemaking ways. He probably even wished that he never even met him.

He couldn't bear to think what he did to Sebastian. Those eyes had done enough. They showed him what he needed to know.

Crying there, alone, puffy green eyes kept searching around the room for more shades of red. It was one of the things that calmed him down when he felt so lonely. But it wasn't working.

Then a stain, one he failed to notice before, appeared on the scarlet pillow his head was resting on.

Inspecting it closer, he saw it was just his current mascara ruining the cotton.

But…it looked like a bushy tree. Upside down.

It looked…familiar.

Why…a tree? Why is that shape familiar…?

And then he remembered.

An oak tree, with a dark-haired woman lying under it…and she had…a black, frilly dress, a very pretty dress…

It was mother.

It was a memory, a different one from before, when he remembered the doll. But then someone came up next to her, someone small with…fuzzy red…hair?

Is that…me?

It was strange, looking at that memory in his head almost like…a cinematic record.

That memory. It started playing over and over, through his head. Over and over…

I remember…when I was human, there was a little piece of heaven in my childhood. My mother would be lying in a grassy field with a beautiful dress near an oak tree, while my father carried me in his strong arms to her. She always made me smile, just thinking about her, even when I could only remember that much. Her and her beautiful blue eyes.

Then father would suddenly stop and lift me up even higher. I was small, so I couldn't understand; my world was filled with toys and colors, looking up at people, never down.

Being lifted up so high was new, exciting and, I admit, a little frightening.

Everything looked so amazing and far away, I wondered for a second if that was how adults felt, because they certainly were much taller than me.

But then he tossed me up and I would fly up really fast, so high it was scary. And I'd look down at him the whole time with something like a whimper sounding out of me, wide-eyed and frozen. I could never remember his face, but he raised me so high so quickly, I couldn't think about it. Father felt so distant, and he kept getting farther away from me, from my tiny, pudgy hands that tried to grab him.

I didn't like that feeling, but even worse was what came next.

I'd start falling…falling, falling, falling so fast! I thought I was going to keep falling and land on the ground, it terrified me so much! Was I going to get hurt, a scrape, a bruise? Or something I don't know yet that's even worse?

The one thing I could feel within every fiber of my being was betrayal. Why did father do that! Why didhedo that! I don't like it, Idon't likeitidon't—

The fear stopped and scrambled away when he caught me like a little weightless bundle, and he tossed me right back up without a beat to pause. It was still so scary, but now it was less than before, because he caught me once, so I knew he would again. He would catch me again I wouldn't get hurt!

'He's going to catch me', I'd think hopefully, and he did, every time. There was a giggle fluttering out of me, like butterflies. I must have been as light as a feather, and he kept looking at me, only me. He'd never let me get hurt. Father would toss me up again and again until it felt fun, and I would laugh at the tickly breeze going around me. But I knew that I only laughed because father always looked at me as I bounced on his wide hands. I was the only thing on his mind when he lifted me to the skies, and it made me so happy. It was so scary at first, but now it was fun. It was fun!

That's exactly how I feel right now.

Only no one's caught me yet. There's no fun until you've been caught, or when you know you'll be caught.

I feel like the two dearest people in my life just tossed me up in the air with all their strength, so high I was frozen with growing fear, and they want me to shout for one of them to catch me, but only one. And I have to choose. I need to, I must. I can't hesitate or I'll keep falling until I hit that hard ground, cold and unforgiving.

No one would help me up if I did. I'm sure…I would break into a thousand pieces and nothing could ever put me back together. Like a crystal vase.

I don't know what I'd do if I hit that ground, it scares me just thinking about it. But nothing comes out my mouth that's frozen in a parted, silent scream as I fall towards the floor, getting closer. Their warm, safe hands are getting farther and farther away, and that harsh, rough ground keeps getting closer and closer…

I don't think I can just pick one. What, do they think that it's really so easy? Do they think that I'd want to be thrown up in the air and just yell their name to catch me?

It should be easy to pick, but it's not. It's never that easy.

Not when you're too afraid of falling to speak. When your throat feels like a cat used it mercilessly as a scratching post and speaking will burn more, aching and stinging with an invisible fire. When there's a throbbing jab in your heart, hammering deep with every heartbeat, and you could swear your ribcage was getting smaller and smaller as you take another breath. Nothing, nothing in you wills you to speak. Nothing wants you to speak. Your own body plays against you.

As a child, the most terrifying thing I could ever imagine was that those strong hands tossing me up would miss my little body and I would land so painfully on the ground. That father would look away for just one second, just one second…and that second was enough to crush my world. My very small, precious world.

Now, I'm afraid that those same arms attached to someone else even more important to me, will just throw me up into the air and pull back, watch me fall, crumple down. But…I'm more afraid that if I reach for one arm, for one of them, the other will never pat my head, or hold my hand, or even burn me with the sweet hiss of a smack. That the sweet, cool lick of a stare or a warm caress would turn to smoke, to shambles, like it never existed. Like it was never meant for me to own. To have. To feel.

I would give up everything, good and bad. All that would be left of my small world is…

A broken half.

Torn in two, because you made me. You'd take that chipped half from my shaking hands, hot with tears, and throw it in a fire.

Gone.

Forever.

"Forever…"

The sound of his own voice startled him. He opened his eyes and wondered when he had closed them. They felt scratchy and bloated. His eyes were sure to be bloodshot. Had he fallen asleep thinking about that memory—

What was it again?

All he could recall now was his mother, sitting under the oak tree.

It felt like something was…missing. Something important.

The living room, small like everyone else's, looked dark and rather frightening reflected with only a half-shut window he didn't bother to ever close. With some aching strength, Grell lifted himself from the sofa and struggled to his bed, just as red as everything he owned.

Finally collapsing on it, sleep generously came fast, but with everything currently running through his head, Grell was sure to get little sleep. Regardless of possible insomnia, not only was the week to come vexing him, but he felt fairly troubled about his memories, and why he couldn't remember.

It was strange, that he could recall his mother so easily, but that was it. Only her, nothing more.

Just that surreal, warm presence.

---

N/A: Did I write too much? Yes, yes I did. Too many portrayed emotions (sad, happy, angry, guilt, angst, the whole shebang!) …and words. So, many…words… You don't know how many times I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote. I hope this was worth waiting a month for!

P.S. I'm aware some derogatory terms don't fit the era, but really, would you catch 19th century slang? I know I wouldn't. Besides that, did anyone else want to punch Banter? Because I wanted to punch this OC right out of my computer. Makes me feel like I bullied Grell ;_;