Paint Me Like One Of Your French Men

Painting Twenty-Four

The past few days had been exceptionally out of the ordinary. One day Grell was living life as usual and the next he was sobbing in the arms of his long time crush Vincent Phantomhive. Now, he sat with his phone in his hand looking up anything and everything he could find on William. The guy had mentioned something about working in the porn industry but...what exactly was his stage name? Or was it the same? These were the types of questions currently plaguing his mind. William hadn't called him. So, he didn't have much else to do.

Grell had already written his final wishes down and placed them in a very convenient place. It was impossible to miss. He'd turned in his two weeks notice to his job and just counted down the hours until Death finally managed to take him. Strangely enough, after spending time with Vincent and Adrian, he was oddly calm about the situation. Death wasn't something he feared or hated anymore, he just accepted the facts as they were.

Part of him wanted to confess the gravity of the situation to William. The only thing keeping him back was the strong desire within him to not be pitied. Grell wanted William to spend time with him because he wanted to, not because he felt bad.

Grell's phone vibrated in his hand. Speak of the devil. "Hello?"

"Sorry, this was a mistake," William spoke.

"W-wait! Wait a minute! Don't hang up! You finally called at least talk a while."

"I wasn't expecting you to answer so quickly. I apologize, you startled me," William confessed. 

"My phone just happened to be in my hand," Grell replied. He didn't want to admit that he'd been looking into William's career.

"I've been considering your offer and I've come to the conclusion that," William paused. Grell's heartbeat increased. "I will go on a date with you. Being in a relationship will be hard to manage but I will at least go on a date with you," William promised.

"Thank you," Grell smiled. William wouldn't be able to see his expression but he smiled nonetheless. The two continued talking for the next couple of hours about their plans. Grell was excited, for the first time in a long time he had something to look forward to. Maybe the dream of romance wasn't so far fetched as Vincent had thought. Grell might actually have a chance at this.

In the few days leading up to the date, Grell could hardly sleep. He kept pulling out clothes deciding on an outfit, then hours later changing it all over again. He wanted this to be the best date imaginable, because it might very well be his last date. His anxiety towards the upcoming event was childish. He'd even called up Vincent to ask for suggestions. The man replied with a laugh and a simple phrase "Isn't just being yourself the best outfit you could have?"

The day of the date didn't start out well. There was rain in the forecast and William had asked him at least three times via text messages if he wanted to reschedule. Grell was determined. There was no time like the present. Even if it did rain they could still enjoy the day, or so he thought. But one thing lead to another and their date ended up a complete shit storm. Grell returned home that night and plopped on his bed as a complete mess. He wanted nothing more than to cry himself to sleep and wither away into nothingness. William would never request another date again! He knew this to be true in his heart of hearts.

Grell's assumptions were incorrect. William sent him a message apologizing for the day's events. He promised to make it up to him another time. Then, the two planned for their second date. Grell's life clock was getting closer and closer to the finish line. He thought about telling William numerous times. But, after each failed date he was too preoccupied to think of it.

Now, here he was, bleeding from a stab wound, staring at his phone, wanting to cry. He was on his way to the makeup date, (one of many, that is). He tried to send a message to William but he would never know if it sent. His vision blurred. His motivation dwindled. He fell to the ground and breathed his last.

William didn't know Grell was sick. He didn't know the first thing about what had happened. He felt agitated, a bit enraged, until he saw a familiar face at his door. Vincent had seen the news, read Grell's final wishes, and come to explain the things that Grell hadn't. For some reason, he remembered Grell and Grell's situation. The only detail omitted was the affair Adrian, himself, and Grell had taken part in.

"I know you don't want to see me, we didn't have the best introduction," Vincent smiled and held out carefully packaged paintings. "Grell wanted you to have these. There is a letter written for you, it was in his final wishes. He passed away," Vincent tipped the brim of his hat and walked off.

William closed the door and opened the packaging. He read the attached letter and instantly felt a bit of guilt. "He was dying?"

William left his home and ran after Vincent. "Wait!" he called. "Wait! Please!"

Vincent paused. His hat covering his expression as he turned around. His long coat covering most of what he was wearing. His shoes worn but the rest of his attire was fairly neat and tidy. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

"How long was he sick?"

"Quite some time. We rarely talked about it. We were barely even friends, just coworkers, for the most part," Vincent answered. "My dear," Vincent placed a hand on William's shoulder, "there is nothing you could've done. There is nothing that would've changed any of your actions. And, you two might have acted entirely the same no matter the circumstances." With that, Vincent left. He left for good this time.

William didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what to feel either. He returned to his home. He unwrapped the objects more fully. The first painting was incredibly beautiful. Who painted this? It looked just like Grell. The other two were similar in quality but more...depressing.

"Well, that's that," William said. He hung all three up, despite only liking the one. He wished he felt more dejected about Grell's death. However, he only felt disappointment. He wished, just a bit, that the two might've gotten a bit more acquainted.