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William T. Spears meets Grell Sutcliff on the twentieth day of school the year he turns seven. He isn’t looking to make friends, but like a lot of things that people aren’t looking for, like debt and trouble, it decides to show up anyway and cause a lot of problems.
Grell Sutcliff is new. He’s three inches taller than William and looks down at him, surrounded by the bustle and chatter of grade-school children clustered about the good-sized school yard. His hair is bright red, cut short and jagged, and his eyes are jade green, and in addition to the required school uniform he has a silver locket around his neck that is most likely nicked from his mother. William isn’t normally timid, but this boy is terrifying, and towers above him like a looming building – it’s exceedingly nerve-wracking because Will is set on the soft green grass, and the taller boy is standing. Against the sky he sort of looks impressive, really. Then the wind blows gently and Grell just grins, all teeth and upturned lips that look like lipstick have been applied to and then rubbed off hastily, just like he grinned when being introduced to the entire class earlier.
Naturally, William expects him to say something. Anything – he can’t possibly be standing before him like so for absolutely no reason. When he doesn’t for several lagging seconds, and he just stands there, not even expectantly, William tenses.
Suddenly and sans warning, Grell crouches down so that he’s eye level with William. The wind blows again and a several strands of raven-colored hair swoops down over William’s eyes. With great difficulty, he lets it be.
(That, of course, is the first red flag. Seven years of abnormal immaculateness, and the first, subtle break is obviously Grell’s fault.)
“Hello,” The weird moment is broken, and Grell’s smile softens. “I like you. Be my friend.”
Fact about Grell Sutcliff:
He’s a force to be reckoned with.
(But William learns this later.)
He isn’t asking. It’s a clear, blatant demand. William is instantly annoyed, perturbed, and utterly confused all at once. Friends are a foreign concept to him, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t the way that they’re supposed to be made. It’s a demand, but it doesn’t feel right, and so he wants to shake his head and stand up and walk away and just forget this strange, strange boy completely.
Grell isn’t asking, but William says yes anyway.
There’s a sharp knock on the door. It snaps William’s attention away from the book he’s reading more out of lack of anything to do than real interest, and he sighs. He places a piece of paper into the book to mark his page. As he stands, he feels the rough chill, and it makes him want to burrow underneath his sweater and never come out. He's got a feeling about who's knocking on the door, though, and he knows that if he doesn't answer it quickly, hell is going to be raised.
When he gets the door and opens it, he’s anything but surprised to see Grell there.
“Will!” Grell cries, like he hasn’t seen him in a million years, which is entirely untrue as they just saw each other yesterday. He holds his arms out, enhancing his already dramatic air.
“What do you want, Sutcliff?”
(Some part of him is actually really glad that his best and only friend is here. William metaphorically packs that part of himself into a box and kicks it away forcedly.)
“It’d be nice if you’d say hello. And remember – Grell.” The red-haired boy tuts and shakes his head as he invites himself in, rushing past William and into the kitchen. William shuts the door and follows him, and doesn’t scold or question him; there’s no point, because Grell does what he wants regardless of what anyone else thinks, except occasionally his mother.
“Is that your mother’s scarf and coat?” William asks blandly, and it’s really out of curiosity rather than mockery.
Grell pauses while rummaging through the pantry. He turns around and faces his friend, pouting. He’s donning a coat that goes down almost to his ankles, and it is red, red, red – with a splattering of black, satin lining on the collar and the ends of the sleeves. Tied around his scarf is a soft-looking maroon scarf. His red glasses match nicely, actually, as does his hair. But he still looks plenty preposterous, as all children who delve into their parent’s closets and concoct an outfit out of its contents always do.
Fact about Grell Sutcliff:
The color red is the air he breathes, he enjoys dressing in a feminine manner outside of school, and his mother’s closet is constantly being raided by him for clothes and accessories.
“Well, yes…” Grell admits, sheepishly. Then he goes on and continues his rude rummaging.
They’re both twelve now, the age where they’re still clinging on fervently to the naïve curiosities and idle habits of boyhood while at the same time on the verge of growing up. Physically, William has grown rather nicely. He now stands at a height that almost matches his slightly taller friend. Both are still boyishly thin, and their complexions and eye colors are similar enough, but when they stand together there’s an almost humorous visual contradiction. The contradiction runs deep, as well. To those who look on at them, interacting or not, it’s almost like their personalities are written all over their faces – Will, ever subdued and smart and hardly eager, and Grell, loud and erratic and fond of elaborate gestures.
Alas, Grell emerges with a box of stale, sugarless cookies – then he thinks better of it and tosses it into the trash bin without a second thought.
“You never have any sweets, Will. How do you bear it?”
“Don’t act like it’s something new. You should know this by now.” William glares.
They stare at each other without goal or aim for a minute before Grell shrugs.
“Come on then!” He exclaims excitedly, trotting over to the kitchen table where William is sat and grasping his hand tightly, pulling him up. “I really did come for a reason, and we have to hurry!”
William resists, if weakly. “I don’t want to.”
“You must. The lady demands it!” The self-proclaimed ‘lady’ doesn’t relinquish his hold on William’s hand.
Naturally, in the end, William is convinced. They stumble through the streets of London hand-in-hand halfway – not that William approves, but fighting with Grell Sutcliff is pointless and tiresome.
They reach a school. It’s the one that rivals the school Grell and William will be attending in a few years. Will wrinkles his nose, looking at it in confusion.
“Grell, why-“
“No, shush! He’s there!” Grell cut in, pointing at something in the distance with a hand that’s shaking out of excitement, and Will follows his gaze. There’s a boy with shaggy black hair on the long-ish side coming down the steps of the school, the image of pristine in a crisp school uniform.
“Him?” William inquires, only to be immediately shushed again by the boy at his side.
“His name is Sebastian,” Grell whispers, and dear lord, he’s cooing. “Isn’t he pretty?”
(He’s always known that Grell is gay. It’s another fact about Grell. Whether it’s because of Grell’s influence – however subtly inflicted upon him – or whether it was always destined to be so, William doesn’t think he cares too much about gender or gender preferences.)
William looks at the older boy again – Sebastian – and estimates that he’s seventeen years old.
“Why is he in school? We’re on holiday.”
“He’s so devoted, that’s why. He comes in four times a week to tutor!” Grell is positively giddy. Something like actual concern for the pristine boy creeps into William’s mind.
“Have you been stalking him?” William gapes, and he’s being completely serious here. Sure, Grell is just a twelve-year old boy, but anyone who assumes he’s harmless just because of this knowledge is dead wrong because they haven’t spent five years with him.
“Oh goodness, Will! Of course I haven’t.”
Grell holds his hand to his heart with pretend hurt on his face.
For the third time, William looks at Sebastian. He’s turning a corner, and then he’s gone. William looks back at Grell, who is staring wistfully at the spot where Sebastian was last.
“So you…just come here. And watch him leave.” William states flatly. He’s unsure about what to think about this.
Grell doesn’t even think about the way to respond. “Yes.”
“That’s odd.”
“He’s beautiful,” Grell argues, like that completely excuses his awkward crush. “He’s a friend of Ciel Phantomhive, sort of. That’s how I know about him. Ciel told me everything in exchange for three pieces of candy.”
Ciel Phantomhive hates Grell. The boy is only eight, but William thought him very smart up until now. Certainly smart of enough to not feed this sort of information to someone like Grell, who gets really freakishly obsessive, but apparently not smart enough to pass up sweets.
Suddenly William is very bitter. “Why did you need me to come along? You come by yourself all the time.”
“You make things more fun.” At this, William scoffs, because William T. Spears and fun do not mix together very well.
“If you say so. Can I go home now?” He grumbles, turning and walking away without waiting for an answer.
“Hey!” Grell catches up to him, linking arms with him. “Let’s get chocolate! I have a few pounds.”
“Did you find them in the coat you’re wearing?” Will asks knowingly, tugging his arm free from Grell’s hold.
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. We can go and get chocolate, and you’ll eat it because I’m buying it for you, and then we can go…”
William tunes him, sort of, and just listens to Grell’s chattering like background music. There’s a funny feeling sitting in his stomach, clenching onto his chest.
He wants to run home, but he goes along with Grell anyway.
It’s really weird, but sometime after they’ve both turned sixteen their relationship shifts. At first, neither can tell. But it becomes really apparent after a bit. First, it’s the atmosphere. It feels different, when they’re together. Before, it was all playful prodding about oh you’re too stiff and why won’t you try to have some more fun on behalf of Grell and stern lips with hidden smiles from William.
Sometimes, now, Grell is flirtatious. He clings to William in a million different ways that go just a little bit past friendship – from his hand, from his arm, from his waist, from his shoulder.
(The biggest red flag is the fact that William has to pretend he’s annoyed by this.)
Ronald Knox, a year below the two quarrelling friends, comes into the mix sometime after this starts. He shares a class with William, and he’s the only person since Grell that’s successfully managed to strike up a friendship with him. William doesn’t mean to become friends with him, or even sort of come to form a good opinion on him, but he’s that rare sort of person that is absolutely impossible to dislike.
“I don’t get this,” Ronald whines. He and William walk out of the classroom together, right into the mob of students scurrying to get out of school and go home. “Problem four? What are you even supposed to do?”
Because William feels kind of bad not to, he takes the paper Ronald is holding and explains it to him simply and quickly.
Ronald squints like he still doesn’t get it, and William feels weary at the prospect of having to explain the problem again.
“My beloved!”
Grell comes tumbling out of the crowd with a shout and right onto William, wrapping his arms around him tightly in a really awkward one-sided hug.
“How are you, love? Holding tight without me?” Grell paps William’s face with both hands, grinning cheekily. “I assume not, but you’ll just have to bear my absence for a while longer. The Drama Group demands my presence, as I am a highly valued member. But fear not! I will, of course, drop in on you later!”
He doesn’t even look at Ronald, but caresses William’s face. William’s left eye is twitching dangerously on its own accord.
“Farewell, dearest!” Grell waves, and then runs off to his very, very important drama meeting.
Ronald sort of gapes. Then he turns to William, blinking and flushed and clearly really embarrassed at having have seen that.
“Er-“
“Please don’t comment on that,” William cuts in, holding up a hand. He hands Ronald his paper back. “It’s not of import.”
“Yeah, okay,” Ronald nods, rubbing the back of his head. Then, because he really is idiotic and sometimes William questions his taste in people, he asks, “So that’s your boyfriend?”
The look William gives the orange-haired boy is killer.
Ronald doesn’t mention it after that.
“If we had children, they’d have the greenest eyes. Don’t you agree, Will? Their eyes would just be so green! They’d have the worst eyesight, but such splendid green eyes to showcase behind lenses! Oh, would they have red hair or black hair? If we had two, maybe we’d have one with each hair color. Do you think they’d both be girls and boys or one of each? What do you think Will? What do you think?”
William shuts his locker, looks at his bubbly friend, and then shakes his head in a disapproving fashion. He answers as he walks away, Grell at his heels.
“What I think is that we are not capable of conceiving children together as we are both male, Grell.”
As if to assert himself, William pushes his glasses up his nose. It works, because Grell doesn’t say anything more on the matter and opts to follow a few steps behind him.
Grell follows William home without asking or without announcing that he is going to do so. Not that he even needs to, at this point. It’s unspoken between them.
Halfway there, they stop to wait for cars to pass before they can cross the street. Three taxis and a silver car speed by before William finally cracks and looks at the red-haired boy.
Not that they’re boys anymore. They’re matured, though not fully, at least not in wisdom. William has definitely grown. At six feet, he’s five inches taller than Grell now. He finds it ironic – once, he felt inferior in height compared to his best friend. Now he towers above him.
Grell is wearing his mother’s red coat over his school uniform. It’s essentially his now, though, and now that he’s seventeen and grown to his full height it’s barely past his knees, draped over his shoulders. He can actually work the look now – it suits him.
There’s something off about Grell right now.
“What’s wrong?” William asks, avoiding eye contact. It’s hard enough as it as, trying to be the one initiating a conversation about emotions and feelings and things William can’t even begin to understand.
“You worry so much, darling,” Grell’s lips curl up into a ditzy smile, running a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out. William is having a difficult time getting accustomed to it.
“About you – occasionally,” William grunts out with much effort, staring very intently at a Phantomhive Toys advertisement across the street. “It’s nothing important. Your behavior at times naturally calls for me to worry, both about your sanity and your well-being.”
“You’re so sweet, Will.” Giddily, though more subdued than normal, Grell leans against the wall of a deli. Crossing the street has been forgotten. “That’s why I love you.”
“Don’t say things like that so lightly,” He huffs.
“I’m not saying it lightly,” Grell argues. The fact that he’s so confident and calm while saying this is criminal. “I’m very serious about this, dear Will, so very serious.
It’s time to panic, because William knows Grell, and this isn’t him teasing. He tenses, staring at Grell with a gaping mouth and Grell stares back unwaveringly, unabashedly.
“I –“ William stutters, possibly for the very first time ever. “I – please don’t come home with me, Sutcliff.”
Something in Grell’s face falters and it’s so terribly tragic and heartbreaking and painful that William can’t stand to look – instead, he plays the fool.
He doesn’t even think about it, just turns, sees he has the opportunity to cross, and dashes across the street.
William’s parents are, very surprisingly, home when he arrives. They’re never home. And because he’s so unlucky, his mother decides to engage him in a conversation today of all days.
“How was school?” His mother asks, her gaze still locked onto the newspaper she’s reading.
“It was fine,” he murmurs in response, and his desperate attempt to escape the kitchen before further questioning is thwarted by her next words.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
For whatever reason, a gear in the universe of William T. Spears seems to have fallen out of place, because his mother, who scarcely talks to him, puts down her paper and looks at him expectantly. It’s a bit too much. First, he discovers that he is in fact capable of feeling useless human emotions behind platonic fondness, and now this.
“You seem tense, William. Do sit, and let’s talk.”
William hesitates.
“I’m not feeling well,” he says hoarsely. “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”
“William-“
He dashes out without a second thought, trotting up the stairs to his bedroom. Relief floods over him when he finally arrives, and shuts the door.
His world feels enlarged suddenly. A while ago it had seemed small, safe, familiar.
Why does Grell Sutcliff have to toss everything into chaos? He clenches his teeth, frustrated, so very, very frustrated. Everything is a mess, he’s a mess – he should be focusing on school, should be focusing on getting into a good university and being successful, not this romance lark. It was bad enough when Grell Sutcliff was just his best friend, and then worse when Grell became attracted to him in a way that William thought wasn’t serious and now-
For the very first time, his mind is a shuffle of uncertainness. He doesn’t know where they’re going to go from here.
William avoids Grell for two weeks.
Ronald helpfully informs him that Grell isn’t acting strangely or in any way that is out of the ordinary, and kindly refrains from asking why William is asking him about Grell.
Loneliness, William is shocked to find, is not something he is used to. How can it be? Always, always, constantly and without fail, Grell Sutcliff stood by his side. There was never a reason for him to be lonely.
It actually hits him in the middle of the hallway, and he bursts out laughing. It’s more of a deep chuckle, actually, but it still attracts a couple of weird looks from the people who are still lingering thirty minutes after the bell has sounded. He must look mad, staring at his locker, and chuckling.
Fact about Grell Sutcliff:
He has always been there.
In fact, the signs themselves had always been there, since the beginning. Grell Sutcliff, the exception to everything. While most everyone else, he considers boring and bland and uninteresting, Grell he finds marvelous, and splendid, and colorful and just beautiful, in personality and character and looks and everything. Nobody else makes him smile, nobody else breaks through his stone cold façade so easily, nobody else cares to have learned him so perfectly because William T. Spears is ordinary, but Grell Sutcliff does, and Grell Sutcliff is not ordinary and it should not fit but it does.
William slings his bag over his shoulder and runs.
He needs to find Grell.
Sebastian Michaelis pops into his mind unannounced as he runs in the direction he knows Grell goes after school to go home. Grell’s crush disappeared long ago, after Sebastian went off to university and showed up at one of the Phantomhive’s parties for the Very Rich – the Sutcliff family was always invited, naturally – with someone he was involved with. Grell told him about it and he can’t remember, but he remembers how bitter Grell was over it for a good while afterwards.
Grell must be bitter about William.
He stops running and walks the rest of the way. By the time he’s turning onto Grell’s street the adrenaline of his realization is wearing off rapidly.
This was silly. He’s never done this sort of thing before. How do you apologize and ask for a possible relationship – is William even sure that he wants a relationship? How is he supposed to go about doing this?
He sits on the pavement for what feels like a long while and tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever is to come when he knocks on Grell’s door. The street is very quiet, and he’s mostly left alone except when Alois Trancy skips by him and waves, and William doesn’t wave back.
“Will?”
He nearly jumps at the sound of his name, standing up immediately when he realizes that it’s none other than Grell behind him.
Of course – it’s Friday. Grell was at a drama meeting. William mentally berates himself for completely forgetting.
“Dear Will, what are you doing here?” If William didn’t know better, he’d say that the way Grell smiles is shyly, but he does know better and it’s not.
Fact about Grell Sutcliff:
Shyness is a foreign concept to him.
“I came to apologize, naturally,” William admits, carefully and the words come out a lot easier than he anticipated.
“What for, sweetheart?” Grell comes forward and places a hand on the back of his own head, tilting his head in confusion.
William grits his teeth. “Don’t act clueless. We had a questionable encounter.”
Grell shrugs. “Yes, but you don’t need to apologize, Will! Don’t worry about me any longer. You’re so very precious to me and I’m giving you space, don’t you see?! Everything will be fine, but you’re clearly confused, so you need time to figure out your true feelings! I’m very good at this, trust me.”
William just stares at him, dazed. Grell runs his hand through his red hair.
“Will-“
William steps forward and grasps Grell’s shoulders, which turns out to be an effective way of shutting him the hell up.
“Grell,” he begins, sighing. “I don’t require any more time, or space. I firmly believe thirteen years has been more than enough time to figure this out.”
For the second time, something in their relationship shifts, and this time they both notice it together and it’s a wonderful sort of a shift, like the shift between winter and spring when rainy days and gray skies are swapped for the blossoming of flowers and a gentle breeze.
For the first part of their new, different relationship, it’s admittedly a bit difficult. William is new to this. Grell has had a few flings. They’re both learning. They’re both struggling. The transition from ‘best friends’ to ‘boyfriends’ is very strange, and something they find they must improvise at.
(‘Boyfriends’ is such a juvenile term. It makes William feel like a teenage girl. In his mind, he still just thinks of Grell as Grell, his in a new sort of way.)
But there are good bits, too – like the way Grell grins while they kiss for the first time and the times after that, and William kind of does too, because he can’t help it. And there’s the way that their hands fit together nicely, they always have, but now it takes on a new type of meaning. Then there’s the outings which can be called dates and the I love you that they both utter a year and a half later, and neither of them have ever been so sure of anything.
Fact about Grell Sutcliff:
He loves William T. Spears. He’s not easy to tolerate but William handles it, like he always has and always will, and he enjoys every second of it even if he’ll never express it.
Fact about William T. Spears:
He loves Grell Sutcliff, his very best friend, and it took him thirteen years to realize it.