*drools* I need a better photoshop, but I don't have the money… cleaning manga is annoying, they always put the SFX right where you DON'T want it to be, like in the middle of a freaking ornate door!
Okay, end of rant, on to the story, I thought of this while reading a story and suddenly thinking… wow Ciel has lots of contradictions and then I thought of Alois and thought… shit this kid is a freakin' lie.
Hypocrite: a person who pretends to have virtues, moral or religious beliefs, principles, etc., that he or she does not actually possess, esp. a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.
I tugged gently on the dictionary, allowing it to slam shut with a muffled thump, then shoved it to the furthest corner of the desk and pulled the berry tart Sebastian had left for me into the place the large book had previously occupied.
I stab into it, and mix the perfectly created pastry into mush with my fork, a lone strawberry sits on the side, I pluck it delicately from the crystal desert plate, and pop it into my mouth.
The taste is sweet and sour at the same time, a contradiction.
But no more of a contradiction than myself, I argued with Sebastian fifteen minutes for this desert.
I stab into the perfectly flaky crust, turning it to crumbs, and mix it with the squashed berries.
My every action in itself is a contradiction, hypocritical, very much so.
If you think about it, almost everything in this world is that way.
I yank on the small cord that will in turn, pull the dainty silver bell that brings Sebastian running.
A cat lover acting like a loyal dog, another contradiction.
His very existence is a contradiction.
A demon, in a human skin. It almost made me want to laugh.
"You called my lord?" There he is, white and black, alabaster and ebony.
A pretty face, a kind voice. Such hideous wonderful contradictions.
"Take this away, I am through with it." I hold out the crystal plate, the fork stabbed unceremoniously in the middle of the mess.
He makes a disapproving face, so I drop the crystal plate.
It's as though he never moved, the crystal plate lies on a flat palm.
The fork falls over, making a squish as it lands in the purple, crumbly mush.
"Sebastian, have you ever thought of what makes a hypocrite?" I ask suddenly, twirling an eagle feather pen between my fingers, feeling the soft edge brush in small whorls against my skin.
Sebastian smiles, a smile that is not quite human, a crack in his perfect mask, one that he probably put there on purpose.
"Humans, my lord, are contradictions themselves." He answers.
"Is that so?" I let out the briefest of smirk before returning my face to its normal lethargic placement.
"They live to die." Sebastian continues. "The second they are born, they are walking to their deaths, there is no way out, it's only a matter of time." He continues.
I hum as I set the quill back on its stand, instead reaching for a piece of blank paper.
"What about you, Sebastian?" I ask him as I fold and unfold the paper in familiar motions.
"Excuse me, my lord?" Sebastian asks, looking slightly startled. It is the only expression I know is real, for he does his best to hide that face.
Such a hypocritical game we play, he came to me to be surprised, and my favorite thing to do is shock him, he tries to hide his interest, I flaunt my individuality for him.
I look at the folded paper in my hands, wrong.
I crumple it up and toss it into the waste basket. "You hunger, but deny yourself food. You dislike something, yet you croon over it. You want to lead, but you let yourself be manipulated."
I grab a new piece of paper. "You make what you consider trash, and present it as treasure. You were made to destroy, yet you saved."
I fold again, this time paying more attention to the lines. "You were made to be sinful, yet here you are, the picture of the modest, subservient, butler."
I toss the paper airplane; it slides through the air soundlessly. Sebastian catches it with two fingers, barely making a dent in the paper.
"I see, if you will excuse me." He says, bowing with an inhuman grace before retreating through the doors.
I place a hand on my cheek and stare off at the far wall, allowing my single eye to un-focus.
My world is made up of lies; this very house is made up of lies, my servants, my job, my sense of self.
If I am king of anything it is of hypocrites.
I sponge up darkness, yet I feel lighter when Elizabeth comes, no matter the headache.
I live the life of a pampered baby, only to go out and kill people.
Suddenly I stand up, smashing my hands against the unforgiving mahogany.
My hands sting from the sudden impact; I ignore them and walk over to the nearest bookshelves. I let my eyes skim through the titles without really seeing them.
It's funny really, I must have at least three hundred books here, and I have probably read around ten of them.
I hate reading, always have, yet I always find my self with a book in my hand.
I want to stand on my own, but I can't even button my own shirt.
A scowl makes its way across my face, and I yank down a shelf of books, let them drop heavily to the floor.
Pages crinkle, spins crack. Another mess for Sebastian, oops.
I slide down to the floor.
I can hear them again, the screams the cruel laughter, the mumbled Latin, crackling flames.
I am probably the cleanest noble in London, yet I have never felt dirtier.
I know I am the youngest, but I feel so old.
Silent laughter shakes me, it makes my stomach hurt, muscles burn, but I don't stop.
My life in itself is a contradiction, a mathematical error, a hypocrisy.
So I can't help but return the favor by creating more errors.
My end will be a wonderful, twisted contradiction.
The one I can trust the most, and yet not trust at all.
The one I can call my greatest strength, but also my worst downfall.
The one who has kept me safe and protected my life so many times, with such tenderness, will steal my life away without a drop of remorse.
I am just the king of hypocrites.
O.o Ciel's snapped. Lol…
I don't know why, but this just came to life in my head, and I just HAD to write it down.
Review please! I really, REALLY like reviews.