An Early Spring: Chapter 5

Change: Will's P.O.V.

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Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I should have known better than to listen to that snippy blonde brat. Grell had been so agitated; I couldn't possibly see my kindness backfiring on me. He couldn't possibly dare to take advantage of me. I should have known- I might even have known- that he'd go right back to this version of himself.

I'd even lied to him, too. Ronald wasn't busy, nor had I spoken to him that morning. So much for effort.

That Fitzpatrick hadn't called since, either. Maybe the change in code was really all he wanted. Even then I found a way to let it get to me.

I spent all of Tuesday night documenting the day's expenses, products and successions. Every time I thought about where I was going in just a few hours, my eyes burned even more. At first it was nice to imagine Grell acting uncharacteristically appreciative- maybe even, dare I say it, cute- but that was beyond impossible. I didn't want to regret what I'd done. But I did.

I started to get ready an hour before his estimated arrival so I had time to prepare myself. It hit me then that we needed to take the train, which is a short walk (off a long pier for me) and a lengthy wait in an overly compact car. Being our primary transportation, each room was separate and wholly private. Especially after what I had to go through the night before, I saw that working against me.

My usual outfit was first choice. This was compensation, not a date. Who knows what he would show up looking like anyway.

Looking in the mirror, I paled. What would he do? If he treated this in the same way as he treated that evening party, I might be dealing with some hideous dress again. Hideous dress. Giant hairpiece. Mental images of fishnets came flooding back.

The knock came just after I'd braced myself for the worst possible thing I could imagine, which I will not even bother describing.

But he posed in the doorway, smiling readily like he'd rehearsed it, in a grey shirt and red dress pants. Instead of some obnoxious accessory, he had his black gloves and that little ribbon. Probably out of affection, the latter, because it didn't match in the slightest. Light makeup as well. His hair was down for a change. After it being pulled up so much, he looked different

"No kiss hello?"

He leaned in- I dodged just in time. "The train leaves on the hour, and we're already two minutes behind schedule. Let's get a move on."

"Ohh, don't be like this the whole time. We're supposed to have fun. See? I even dressed in the only outfit you would approve of."

Catering to me? I found that suspicious. He started in on some story that I really didn't understand nor care about, but it filled what would otherwise be silence on the way to the station. Surprisingly, none of the employees even seemed to notice that we were leaving the grounds, or that Grell was dressed like a civil being for once.

The day was easy to enjoy for its weather, if not its inevitable events. It was an early spring; the clouds had melted into a thin dust-blue sheet that opened at various parts of the sky. Sunlight passed in and out of the natural windows they made. Underneath Grell's dramatic tale, the soothing sounds of a new season broke through. The heat would have been nice, if it hadn't been for my choice of clothing.

Lucky for us, the train was mostly empty, too. Other reapers tended to go out to the city later in the day, when they felt like waking up.

His talking wound down. Maybe he was finally shutting up. But I turned around and found that he was about ten feet behind me, just staring up at the sky.

"What are you doing?"

"…It's a good day." A soft smile. "That's all."

"We aren't even in the city yet."

"Yes—" He ran up next to me. "—but you're here. I never thought something like this would happen."

Because I was there? Was that it? Hard to believe that he- or the real inner version of him- would be so overjoyed with that. It was so hard to tell if he meant what he said most of the time. I was still wary of the "fact" that he supposedly liked me. More than the others, as Ronald said, because for him to like someone didn't mean all that much.

At least, I didn't think so.

The train ride was mostly quiet. I was surprised he didn't want to play some stupid flirting game, since this was technically a pristine time. He sat on the far side of the cushion leaning his head out the open window the entire time. I hoped my shock wasn't obvious.

"Isn't it a beautiful day? Too beautiful for words." Finally he drew back into the car. That often-perfect hair had tied itself into tangles, which he smoothed through gently. "It's been so awful out lately, what with all the rain."

"It's clearing up," I observed stupidly.

It was becoming more and more obvious that we couldn't have a sociable interaction. We couldn't have any sort, unless I was disciplining him for something, hitting him over the head for another frequent blunder. Ronald was right. Yet another reminder that I didn't treat him so well after all. Suddenly I felt a bit ashamed; I had nothing to say, and he kept looking at me expectantly, which made my stomach flip. Of course I hadn't thought about this. I'd put myself in a position where a complete social butterfly, interesting as the earth, was pitted against a pathetic work-capper with no honest life to his name. My mind took a tumble through all of the boring things I knew. Think of something, idiot.

A bell chimed delicately. Thank goodness; there was a distinct feeling that I had come that close to making a fool of myself.

Grell just smiled.

"Will, turning red? That's new. It must be quite hot in here."

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The city is prized by our society because of its intended lack of unity. By that, I mean that nobody is required to follow any dress code or code of conduct. Glasses can be removed, uniforms can be forgotten. Colored buildings catch the light. There is a place called "New York" in the human world, known for its towers and bustling crowds, so I've heard. Our city fits that description of color and height- almost everything except the grey of building and sky, the poverty that plays leapfrog from street to street.

A tourist destination, if you will. The different districts fade into each other through a fog, which is cast over the connecting tunnels to keep each section visually separate. There are a few key districts, the main of which are shopping and overlook. Overlook is occupied mostly by businesses that connect with the human world, and we rarely need to visit for any reason.

Grell, of course, wanted to shop first in the most annoying clothing shop in the entire square.

"Can't I wait outside?" I asked.

"No. You came here with me to 'make it up to me', so you will come inside. Plus I need opinions on what's cute!"

His genuine excitement was difficult to mirror, especially in that outfit. A few passersby gave us strange looks as he went prancing through the front door.

He ignored the too-happy shopkeeper and flew straight to the rack of red, which was easy to spot in shelves organized by color. I stayed by the black. There was nothing of interest; everything that appeared acceptable was, upon a closer look, adorned with some gaudy pattern or lace or fake fur and gemstones. This was certainly a place Grell belonged.

"Will~! Lookitthiiiiiiiis!"

To my horror, I found that idiot dressed in a giant red ballgown. It might have been pretty on the rack, but the trail of fabric that uncurled and led all the way back to the dressing room pushed it a bit over the line. The shopkeeper had retreated into a corner and was reorganizing a perfectly organized rack of pants.

"Put it back, Grell."

"I don't want to." He twirled, and then ruined it by almost tripping over the train. "It's lovely."

"It's ridiculous."

"You just don't want to see me in a dress."

"It's not that, it's—" …Damn. Cover that up quick, William. "—Er, if you insist on wearing a dress, pick out something more modest."

"Why don't you like this?" He crossed his arms to keep the fabric from falling off of his lack of chest. I massaged my forehead.

After a short argument, I convinced him that he absolutely swam in that. That was apparently good enough; I think he took it as a compliment to his slim figure.

We went through another four red dresses and a black one which I specifically hated. It came up to the thigh and had a package of lace garters attached, which I did not wish to see appearing in my general vicinity back at the office, and I told him as such. That might have came out a bit harshly, which might be why I earned reception of a pair of pink underpants suddenly thrown onto my head while I looked through the white shirts.

I was surprised the poor young woman behind the counter put up with us for as long as she did. She looked like she'd been working for three days straight. Perhaps I should make some small talk—

"Alright, I don't like this one. But it's the last one I'm trying."

Fine by me; I was fully prepared to be horrified for a final time.

He slouched on the door frame, obviously displeased with the only beautiful outfit he'd chosen: a simple maroon dress, open shoulder with black and gold trim, and a matching ribbon around the waist. The cashier had even brought herself to look.

"Get that one," I said, motioning to the check-out counter.

His mouth hung open. "You're kidding, right? Don't make fun of me."

I repeated myself. "Trust me."

With a huff, he went back inside and changed quickly, coming back out and putting the dress on the counter with all the gentleness of a viper.

On the way out he kept checking inside the bag.

"The dress won't disappear, Grell."

"I wish it would. I don't like it."

"Why not?

He tugged on the ribbon. "It's too long. And the gold. And it looks just plain strange. I looked awful in it."

"You looked fine," I snapped. His self depreciation was so unnecessary.

"Fine isn't good enough for the next ball!"

"For Christ's sake, you looked beautiful in it!"

He didn't answer. I thought I might have ticked him off for real and turned to him- only to find him grinning up devilishly.

"Beautiful?"

Bloody hell.

"I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.~"

He… what?

W-why, that little—!

I lunged for his throat, jacket, something, but he slipped away and started weaving through the crowd at light speed, that cackling being the only thing I could use to chase him.

I didn't even catch him until a long time later, but somehow my anger was dissolving, and when he was being himself like this he almost seemed a little bit... cuter.

...Er, no- that's not right. Tolerable. That's all it was- toleration. Doing a favor. Fixing something that needed repair.
After all, I don't need to defend myself. That reaper had spent the past who-knows-how-long pining after me. For it to be the other way around all of a sudden would be comical. Ridiculous.

Just... ridiculous.