My friend Ebi-sensei was the inspiration for this fanfiction and she was the one who gave me the courage to carry on writing after harsh criticism. Thank you so much, for everything you have done for me! This is for you!

Love you xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I do not own Kuroshitsuji.

Chapter one: Red

"An optimist is a person who sees a green light everywhere, while a pessimist sees only the red stoplight... the truly wise person is colorblind." - Albert Schweitzer

Ciel Phantomhive hated the colour red. Red was the colour of blood; his blood which had been spilt many times and especially during that time before he had met Sebastian.

Everywhere he looked, he saw the colour as a symbol of luxury, as a symbol of power and as a symbol of greed. It made him wanted to smile in irony, but he had long forgotten how to smile; except for that evil smile which he still held onto for special occasions of course.

"Young master, your tea today is red tea which has been freshly imported from China."

Ciel raised his head and studied the liquid. A few black tea leaves which had escaped the sieve floated in the brown red liquid. He pursed his lips and pushed it away.

"No thank you, Sebastian."

"What about this red velvet cake which I have made today?"

"I am not hungry."

Sebastian hid his smile behind a white gloved hand.

"Then it shall go to waste, and I spent a long time looking up the recipe…"

The boy looked up with a glare which would have made a lion think twice about attacking him.

"I said that I am not hungry. Take it away. And what is with the colour, anyway? Don't ever make it again."

"Yes, my lord."

Ciel waited until the rattle of the trolley had faded into the distance before he put down the pen which he had been grasping tightly in his right hand.

The sun painted the sky in a haze of red. He sighed and turned back to the pile of paperwork on his table before picking up a letter which had been sent to him from Queen Victoria. The seal was red, like a drop of blood on the white crisp paper. Disgusted, he turned away and walked out the room. Paperwork could wait until another time.

Ciel Phantomhive was by nature, not a malicious or pessimistic child. He had been exposed to secrets and responsibilities which had not been his to bear yet and this had both mentally and physically scarred him. His newfound pride at being the head of a prestigious family produced a façade of indifference which many people were not able to see past and he was happy like that.

The slave mark on his back had long healed (as much as it ever would) but the scar would remain forever. Sebastian was the only other one to know that it existed and he had often been questioned about it.

"Does it still hurt?" Sebastian had once asked whilst robing him.

"No. Rather than a pain I feel a burning anger," he'd relied.

The recognised colour of anger.

Ciel Phantomhive hated the colour red but in the end, it is the colour which suits his personality the best.

Done… Up next is orange…