Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji
If Grell were a believer in the Christian faith, he would have turned his hair brunette and lock himself up at the nearest covenant to hide away from the world. But no, the poor redhead was huddled atop the nearest pile of rubbish. Shivering and shuffling about, Grell sniffled as he listened to Eric's fist come into impact with Ronald's face. An hour of pleading him, weakly and forcefully and possibly by any attempt, Grell found himself powerless against the postal blond and was mindful to keep a safe distance.
Waterlogged and utterly miserable, he felt that it was impossible to dry himself off. He was cold to the bone and wished for someone to hold him and keep him warm.
William.
A forth of the year and he never saw the reaper in a while. He wondered if that person retained feelings towards him. Certainly, in his dreams, William and him were resting upon the banks of the river, chattering away or having a passionate moment that would suddenly blotch itself out as though his subconscious part was rejecting him.
Grell's fist trembled as it wrung out his coat for the umpteenth time; it had retained so much water, he thought it magically stored the liquid in gallons rather than pints. He sighed to himself, exhausted and weak, and finally had the courage to speak out,"Hitting that boy won't do any good, it certainly isn't getting us anywhere."
The pounding stopped, a pool of blood and water, mixing with the dust and debris of the demolished building, had surrounded Ronald. Eric's knees and shins were soaked in it as well, forever staining his slacks, when he nodded, half agreeing and half raging on, contemplating whether to fallow Grell's advice or to continue his savage act. Eric looked thoughtful for a moment, Grell relaxed but grew tense once more when he watched Eric's hand carry the handle of his saw.
"Killing will do better!" Eric shouted at Ronald, who was unconscious on the floor. Grell sprung to his feet, like a bullfighter he covered the belligerent Eric's head with his coat. In the midst of the confusion, Eric began tossing his large form about until Grell grasped the saw's handle and yanked it away, he chucked it towards a torn up sofa and backed away from Eric. The blond managed to ruffle his way out of the redness and was instantaneously fuming, but Grell retorted, quick with words that were desperate to make him see the entire picture.
"Enough of that! Lucky enough to have him alive than Raoul, much less even have Alan as well! Look at us, if that were Raoul he would have left us to die in whatever Hell came up in our Realm!" Eric was still straddling Ronald, intent on punishing him further but then his eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. Grell found it as a reason to continue. "He could have sent us to the Everto or leave us, no, he saved us! And for what? For us to murder him? You revived him into being a reaper, wouldn't this be a sort of payment for you?"
Eric's eyes suddenly opened, his looked strait at Grell. Mixture of surprise and anger danced about in his eyes. "Where did you learn that?"
It came more as a snarl than a gasp but Grell brushed it off his shoulder.
"Samantha's Cinematic Rip merged with my soul and...I saw what she lived through, Ronald was going to kill her when he caught her with Raoul. Enough of her, just stop it! I can't think when you're busy trying to crack his skull open!" He briskly walked away, he stepped by Alan, who was left in a heap on the ground, lightly snoring, and made his way out of the wrecked room then around a corner. His bare feet padded against the dusty floor, he paused a moment, praying that Eric would cease his beleaguer upon Ronald.
A minute passed and there was no sound of pounding against the wood nor choking.
Grell placed a finger to his temple to push away another oncoming headache and he walked down the hallway, making on a right at a pile of rubble that blocked his path. He turned a corner and found himself at what seemed to be the front door. The misery seemed to have lightened upon his shoulders when he saw that there was a way out of the dump. It was blurry but he had a sense that he was going in the correct direction. He gingerly made his way, the blobs of debris were quite cumbersome but he eventually got to the door.
His cold, shaking hand reached a rusted door nob and turned it, the grinds of the rust and metal screeched in his ears as he pushed the door forth. It hesitated but eventually opened up to the world. Grell stepped out to observe whatever his poor eyes could see.
Grell could guess that they were in the slums of London. Perhaps the East part if he remembered it correctly. His brain was slightly fuzzy and it was hard to map out where he was.
"Shit," he murmured to himself, he cursed because his glasses were missing, and he definitely knew his coat would lack a spare.
The only sights he saw were the silhouettes of the apartments and buildings, along with a few blobs of rats that were rummaging through the nearest trash. His scent was terrorized by the stench of the humans and some godforsaken smell that seemed to emit from somewhere horrid. And, finally, the taste of the sewers lingered in the air, biting his tongue when he licked his lips. He was somewhat grateful that he lacked spectacles to see anything in this part of the city.
His thoughts were assaulted by the sound of an infant wailing in the distance. Grell bit his tongue gently enough to draw blood but not give him a lisp as he turned back, closing the door behind him.
After a while of feeling his way back to the room in which the three had silently decided to rest themselves, Eric himself laid off of Ronald and was doing nothing to stop the blooding from what appeared to be the boy's nose and mouth.
Oh, the cruelty of him. Grell dropped to his knees and reached for the coat that was draped over Ronald's legs. He took out the Scarlet and took out three pills, then he popped it into Ronald's bloodied mouth. His hand closed his jaw and rubbed his throat to help the pills go down.
"We need to find a safe place to hold up at."
Those were the first sensible words Eric had said, Grell finished giving Ronald the drug and glanced over his shoulder at Eric. "Why so?"
"Because...if that angel Ana seen your Cinematic Records, she would know where you would hide for the most part. How often do you go to that demon butler?"
"Who? Sebastian?" Grell's heart twinged at the name. "It's been a long time..."
"Then we go there-"
"But...I was there during Jack the Ripper, surely she would go-"
"Half angels never go after demons, Grell, they're part human and would rather not have themselves susceptible for meals. And since we don't have a job, so it seems, we can hang there for a while. I don't really care about demons if they don't in the way of work. But look at us, we're out of a gig. No issue there, right?"
Grell brought himself fully around, he stared at Eric, opening his mouth was a premonition to his need to speak but he refrained himself from doing so. He nodded. "Fine, I'll take you there. Get your death scythe and wake up Alan, I'll take care of Ronald."
A/N: So I've decided to forget creating a sequel. I'll continue this fic right now, ha ha...
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