Hi everyone! I'm planning for this to be a multiple chapter fiction. This chapter is in Ciel's point of view, just so you know. I hope you like it! Please review! I need to know how I'm doing! Thanks a bunch for reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, nor any characters. Though I wish I did. So sad.
Warnings: M, to be safe, for later chapters (maybe?). Contains spoilers for Season 2. Boy x boy love, so if you don't like, I would kindly suggest you do not read. If you do like it, there's nothing stopping you.
Anyways, enjoy! THAT is an order XD
"Do you hate me?"
I struggle to keep my voice cold, mocking, nonchalant. My attempts are almost successful, even though I can feel my eyes sting and my demon-tainted soul writhe within this shell of a body, but there is that one broken note.
My butler says nothing. The words twist and churn in the silence-fogged air of my bedroom, and I frown. Why do I care what Sebastian thinks now, anyways? I'm alive, after all. And I will have him by my side forever.
But maybe that's the reason why he's acting so cold to me? Even without asking, I can tell he hates me: his garnet eyes on my skin feels like he's pouring a bucket of ice over my head. He despises me. Loathes me. And the fact that his animosity bothers me just irks me to no end.
I am an earl, after all. I shouldn't care what a mere servant thinks of me. But I do, for some unfathomable reason.
I'm irritated. I have been ever since I was turned, ever since the fateful day that damn Alois Trancy created a contract with that she-devil, Hannah. While in my body, no less! Even though gluttony hasn't been, nor will ever be, one of favorite Seven, I find myself now so famished, I can't stand it. Human food no longer appeals to me in the slightest. But what disturbs me the most is the fact that my own butler tried to kill me, and failed. Failed. He bloody shoved his fist through my chest! Does he know how much that hurt?! Yet, here I am, still alive. And he has used the excuse that he was merely 'testing whether I have become a demon or not'. I don't buy it. He hates me, after all.
My eyes narrow at Sebastian, watching the black strands of his hair slither down like dark snakes over a beautiful, pale face and cast shadows over blood-jeweled eyes. I suddenly stiffen. Jeweled? Beautiful?
Have I just thought his face beautiful? My almost-executioner? I clench my eyes shut, stopping my train of thought, and touch my forehead. I must be falling ill. There is no way in Hell that I would think such things of my servant. Either that, or I have gone mad.
Or maybe it's puberty catching up with me? Damn Alois and his cruelly perfect timing. Or maybe I'm just hungry. Yes, maybe….
"My lord, is there something troubling you? Your inquiry is quite unbecoming of someone with your status."
Unbecoming, indeed. I feel quite unbecoming, with my soul stained with the seal of immortality, with the sin of being unable to accomplish my end of the deal. I feel unbecoming with my black-hole of a stomach and the ache in my heart that very well shouldn't be there. I feel unbecoming with my hormones raging out of control and forcing my emotions to do the same. Yes, besides Alois, this predicament (my influx of emotions and insatiable appetite) is because of my hormones, not because I'm a demon; I'm certain of it.
Becoming a demon can't change one too much…can it?
My eyes flutter open, and I glare half-heartedly at Sebastian as he shuffles through his daily routine: open the curtains, dress me, give me the imaginary breakfast on delicate, empty china. How infuriating. I'm no longer a child. I don't wish to play 'House'. Pretending has lost its appeal so very long ago….
Sebastian's face is impassive now, his tone always cold. I can't bear it. It's so ridiculous that my heart seems to bloody squeeze the life out of me every time I look at him. I'm tired of silly games. I'm tired of not being able to see that disgustingly (lovely) saccharine, unauthentic smile of his. I'm tired of hearing monotonous drabble. I'm just…so…tired.
"No. It's nothing."
It has only been a few days since being cursed, even less than returning to the human-populated world from Hell. Yet, it seems as if I'd gone through forever and back again, no thanks to my butler. One can't imagine how slowly time passes when one can live forever hated. And starving. It's quite awful, really.
Sebastian has told me once that the time I've lived has been nothing short of a blink of an eye to him. I almost feel sorry for him, now. It requires much more than a blink of an eye to be done with me in my current condition.
Presently, I find myself on the outskirts of a city, the sun setting behind the buildings and painting the sky with fire. Fire, burning flesh, rattling shackles, children broken with despair, stone tables, laughing masks, so much blood…. I shake away the images that begin to surface from the depths of my mind, and I subconsciously lean a little closer to my butler. It's preposterous how the only person -or demon, in this case- I feel safe with is the one who wishes me dead. Hilarious, even.
I wonder if he'll ever end up killing me?
"Sebastian, where are we going?" I demand.
"It's time for your first meal," is his monotonous reply. He glances down at me, cold garnet eyes boring into my cobalt blue orbs. "As you know, there are no souls in Hell that we can consume, my lord."
Of course. That's why we have returned to Earth to begin with. However, instead of returning to London -or England, for that matter, we have come to France. Dirty France, with its irritatingly large population, shops, and dirty streets. The Eiffel Tower attracts so many people, so many souls. They're unsuspecting idiots, the whole lot of them.
"I remember you telling me that demons don't need sleep. What are we to do later, after all…this…is through?" I ask, changing the subject quickly. I don't know how Sebastian devours souls, nor do I ever wish to. But the growl in my stomach tells me that I have no choice in the matter, and I find my mouth watering at the prospect of a meal. How un-lordly.
"You are to partake in lessons, taught by yours truly."
He leaves it at that. He doesn't mention that he stated this fact this morning; he doesn't tease me, doesn't taunt me. I glance up at him, then back to the hellfire sky, not liking the empty look in his eyes one bit. Bastard. How cold can he be?
"What sort of lessons? Don't tell me it's that blasted Latin."
He doesn't smirk like he would have if I was still human. This irritates me further. I have the sudden urge to slap some emotion onto that stupid face of his! But of course, that isn't very noble of me. And, demon or not, I am still the head of the Phantomhive family. I have some standards.
"I will teach you how to be a demon," he answers, ignoring the flashes of anger that surely show in my exposed eye.
I humph. "There's no need." Why do I want to argue with him so badly? Is it to make him feel something, damn it? I am taking this much too far! Yet I can't stop myself. "You're here to protect me, after all."
Sebastian suddenly kneels in front of me, but not in his usual subservient way. His white-gloved hands clamp onto my shoulders, making me squirm instinctively beneath them. His garnet orbs suddenly flare Hellfire, finally flickering to life. The life that I have wanted from him before, but now it makes me feel afraid….
That boor! What the hell does he think he's doing?!
"One wouldn't know what sort of things demons are capable of, my lord," my demon butler whispers as he leans closer, closer, closer. My lungs constrict, making it fairly difficult to inhale properly. His breath, sweet and spicy with the fragrance of cinnamon, caresses my face and fair nearly makes my heart burst with the speed it's beating at. His eyes ooze into demonic vermillion. Fear flickers through my stomach with butterflies as a sickle-slick smile finally appears on smooth, pale flesh, taunting with the promise to reveal things that should only be left in the dark. Goosebumps race down my arms, heat rushing to my face, and-
His smile leaves. His eyes return to dead, cold, garnet jewels, and he is standing by my side as if nothing had happened. A dutiful butler once again.
And I can't stand it.