My Dirty Little Secret

|Secret Twenty-Four: Grell Sutcliff|

Red, is the color of blood. It is the color of passion, of anger. It is something beautiful, wonderful. It is the color of love. But most importantly. It is the color of her. Madame Red, Grell had always been by her side. Always. They were childhood friends, they knew each other better than anyone. He had known she liked Vincent, instead of him. So he had sworn to accept her choice, even if he didn't approve of it. He promised, to never tell her how he felt, for she wouldn't feel the same. 

Ever.

She would never look at him.

So, he developed him.

Grell thought of himself as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. During the day, he would be the devoted clumsy secretary and at night he would become the red-haired stripper. The daring individual who attempted to seduce any attractive guy, for attempting to go after another woman hurt him too much. This was the only way he could cope. The only way he could accept his situation. It was easier to slip into a second version of himself, then to face her and confess. It was worthless to confess to a person who wouldn't think twice about him. Absolutely senseless.

Grell knew the moment Ciel walked into her office, that she would finally be able to forget about Vincent, that she would get the closure she so desperately deserved. It didn't mean that she would look for another person to love, so he shouldn't expect that. He cautiously walked into her office, holding some tea, her favorite kind. He placed it on her desk, pretending to ignore the sobs coming from her.

"Grell," she cried, "what did I do to deserve such a great secretary?" she sobbed and accepted the tea, bringing it to her lips. It was warm, comforting, his tea was always comforting. Madame Red could never figure out the reason for that, no matter how hard she tried.

"You praise me too much, Madame," he said. She looked at him, he smiled with his mouth closed. He was the same as ever. Humble, kind, and a bit clumsy. She didn't hate him. She would never be able to. He was the only person she could trust. The only person that followed her one wish, to never be called 'Angelina.'

"Thank you," she spoke, softly. Grell hated to see her like this, he wished to speak his mind, to tell her it would be fine but he bit his tongue. He forced himself to hide those words. For they should never be heard. It would ruin the relationship they had, it would only confuse her, only force her to look at him differently, strangely.

"If you'd excuse me, I simply must be getting back," he bowed and left. Always so polite. Always so considerate. Always faking.

Grell hurried to leave. He wasn't going home, he was going to Svante, his free place. He took off his glasses, smiled widely and began to change. His hair reacting on its own, there was no need for wigs. Grell's hair defied science, defied logic, defied reasoning, he himself didn't know how this happened. It was magic, the universe accepting his other self. Grell untied the red bow, letting his long red hair out. He smiled, putting on the coat he had found, that matched her so well and continued on his way.

Two jobs. Two lives. Two selves.

On his way to Svante, he noticed a man. Quite the attractive man. Cold, stern, emotionless, basically everything Grell hated in someone. He smiled, and slowed his car, pulling it over to the side of the road, matching this man's speed.

"Hey, hot stuff, do you need a ride?" he asked. The stranger glared from behind his glasses. He wasn't about to accept help. So stubborn. Grell hated it. But, he couldn't resist.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. I'm not going to jump you, hell, by the end of our ride, you might jump me instead. What does a big ol' strong man like you have to be worried about? You obviously need some sort of help there..." he attempted to convince the man. The stranger sighed, it was better to accept than to refuse. Even if his mother had taught him, never to get into a stranger's car, he was a bit desperate at the moment.

Opening the door to the car, he placed the groceries in the back and sat in the front. It wasn't the best of manners, but by the way this red-head acted, it didn't matter. He only spoke once or twice, to give directions to the driver. Grell liked the sound of his voice but unfortunately he couldn't get him to say anything, he had tried every trick in the book...but this man only spoke when telling him to turn or go straight.

"Stop," he said, "this is the place."

Grell looked around, it was a very nice apartment complex. "Would you like some help? With those?" he said, hoping it wouldn't be too obvious that he wanted to see where this guy lived. He didn't say anything, which Grell took as a yes. Grell smiled, showing off his pointy teeth. After parking his car they both walked in silence to this stranger's apartment. He got out his keys and opened the door, allowing Grell inside. He stared at how plain it all was, expecting this. The stranger didn't have any personal effects. There was nothing that even gave the slightest hint about who he was.

Grell walked followed him to his kitchen, even helped put the items away. He was late for work but that didn't matter. This would be much more interesting. Grell wanted to see, what this man would look like, without his glasses, without that deadpanned face. What would he look like? With ruffled hair, and a heated expression. 

The red-head shook the idea from his head. No, this was the type of person he hated the most. He shouldn't flirt. But, he sure as hell wanted to.

"Thank you for driving me home," he said. Grell shuddered. He loved that voice. Truly, it was amazing.

"Any time," Grell walked to the door. Every bone in his body telling him to stay, to at least try to seduce this man. He turned around instantly, changing his mind, and kissed the stranger. Running his hand though his hair, messing it up, forcing his tongue to invade the guy's mouth. He didn't care if he wanted it or not. He didn't care what the stranger would think. Grell just wanted to act. So act he did.

"Payment," he said, then Grell left, without saying another word.