Title: How to Disappear (Chapter 1)
Words: 1936
Warnings: Sexual abuse.
Notes: This is my first Owari no Seraph fic, and my first MikaYuu fic. Truthfully, it's my first fanfiction in a while. I've recently gotten into ONS, more specifically MikaYuu hell, and I'm kinda enjoying myself. I hope you enjoy! If this is received well enough, I'll likely be continuing it. I love critiques, tips, suggestions, and whatnot, so if you have any to offer, feel free to do so.
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It's days like these that Yuuichirou wonders why his life has to be so god awfully boring. He's not interested in politics, but it's still a part of his weekly curriculum. The only thing that makes it more bearable is that Crowley Eusford is an easily distracted lecturer. He is taken in by many things – women, wine, an errant thought that winds its way somewhere underneath his red and brown hair – and so the main subject of their talks is frequently discarded for something else. Yuu definitely isn't complaining. It's something he's grown to appreciate in the few months in which Crowley has taken up his occupation.
Although he'll probably be fired soon once his father catches wind of the fact that Yuu's political prowess isn't progressing at all. He'll just have to pray he'll find someone equally incompetent later down the road. He rather wonders how Crowley got this position at all – it's probably something to do with his name, he guesses, as he watches the boisterous man unashamedly flirt with his blonde assistant. Yuu sometimes wonders what she assists with; her job hardly seems to be anything other than giggling at Crowley's jokes and occasionally carrying him a glass of wine or a book. Yuu would ask him if he really ought to be drinking this much during the day if he didn't want to draw attention to himself and risk reminding him of his actual objective in the five minutes remaining of their scheduled time.
Speaking of which. Yuu's green eyes flick uneasily toward the clock looming above Crowley's head. Yes, five minutes till noon. He can hold out waiting five minutes. He moves as slowly as possible as he twists to turn toward the window, peering through the recently wiped and shined glass to the courtyard beyond. It's a lovely day, and probably one best spent mucking around outside. Drawing, maybe. Drawing is so much better than reading. Maybe he'll get one of the servants to bring his sketchbook for him; he can try penciling one of the new trees they brought in last week. Or, even better, maybe he'll get one of the guards to spar him. Sitting like this for so long has made him antsy. He hasn't really had an excuse to really fight anyone lately, and he doesn't have fencing lessons until next week, since his instructor is taking a vacation, of all things. A vacation.
Yuu snorts.
"Oh, sorry, Yuuichirou-sama, did you say anything?" Crowley's lilting voice seems to ricochet across the room, and the charcoal-haired teen jerks in his seat, nearly falling off as his gaze snaps to the tall man. He's looking at him, expectantly, a bit confusedly, as if he's just remembered Yuu is actually present with him in the room. He tries spluttering a reply. The ringing of the timer bell saves him. "Oh!" his sorry excuse for a tutor announces, clapping his hands loudly. "I suppose that's all for today. Good work, Yuuichirou-sama." He grins that same grin Yuu has always found infuriating as he gets to his feet and stretches like a cat.
"Yeah, thanks," Yuu responds, more than a little ungraciously, standing as well. He casts the blonde and the redhead a brief glance as he finally makes his way out of the stuffy study room. Another round of pain avoided. One might argue that sitting doing nothing for an hour is more aggravating than trying to learn about the head families of Japan and their relationships with one another, but Yuu could really not care less about that. It's not really the best trait for the heir to the politically crucial Amane family, owner of one of the most influential companies in the country, to have. Sometimes, Yuu thinks he must have been adopted.
Chuckling a little at that thought, he allows himself to trail down the hallway, passing a few guards along the way. Their armour isn't heavy – they're truthfully more like assassins, in some ways, than guards. One salutes as Yuuichirou walks past, and he huffs under his breath, ignoring the guard for all intents and purposes.
Yuu has never been interested in maintaining relationships with the help. They're way too boring, first of all, and in any case, all they're meant to do is serve him. Why should he try to please them? They should be pleasing him. The maid he remembers best is a petite redhead with glasses. What's her name? Yasuyo? Something like that. And that's only because she sometimes seems to hover around him, so it's convenient to ask her to get him things.
She doesn't seem to be around now, though. It's something Yuu only notices because he's heading to his room to change out of his sleep clothes. The dark silk pants and shirt might be appropriate for slinking about his quarters and killing time with Crowley, but not necessarily for going outside. He wants to wear something a little more – appropriate for sparring. Like his training gear, for instance.
A familiar face turns around the corridor in front of him just as Yuu is about to start climbing the set of stairs that leads to his bedroom. "Yuuichirou-sama!" Ferid Bathory calls out, one gloved hand rising in a little wave. Yuu has never liked Ferid, but he pauses for the head butler anyway, one foot on the first step, and the other still firmly on the plush carpet that coats nearly every floor in the mansion. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" the silver-haired man continues as he comes closer. "Planning on doing some reading?"
There's a snide quality to Ferid's tone. Yuu fixes him with a cold glare to let him know his frivolities are unwanted.
"What I'm doing is none of your business," the boy with hair the colour of charcoal replies, promptly twisting away and climbing up the stairs. He can still hear Ferid laughing as he turns right down the corridor – and promptly collides with yet another servant. Yuu can tell immediately because he is wearing white, and no one in the Amane family wears white. No one in the Amane family has blond, slightly curly hair, either – the texture is more than enough for Yuu to know that this man (no, boy, he barely looks older than Yuuichirou) is a foreigner, or at least partially so. The pin at his breast pocket further denotes his position as a butler.
As Yuu stumbles backward, he immediately notes that neither does the blond look particularly fazed, he also isn't apologizing. How insolent. Yuu ought to smack him for that downright constipated expression. It's as if he doesn't have emotions to give – the butler's face is completely blank, and his eyes are utterly dead. Maybe he's just in shock for having such a close encounter with the one and only heir to the family. Yuu clears his throat to help him out.
He still doesn't utter a sound, simply stares at him impassively, as if he's waiting for Yuu to move out of the way, or something. Hah. Like that'll happen. Who is this whelp, and why isn't anyone disciplining him? Yuu feels his mouth curving into a frown. Telling Ferid now would just give the head butler an excuse to talk to Yuu, and he doesn't really want to do that. Although he should still report this rude butler to him. A moment later, the black-haired teenager's mouth snaps up again into a wide grin. He knows what to do. He'll make this brat his personal manservant for the day, and if his attitude doesn't lighten up, he'll report him to Ferid.
"What's your name?" he demands, none too haughtily, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on his heels. The blond butler is about the same height as he is. They probably really are the same age; if he didn't look so apathetic, Yuu thinks he'd probably have a pretty attractive face. Almost as good-looking as his own, in fact. There are a few, long seconds where the blond doesn't reply. Then, his mouth opens, but by then Yuu has already decided he doesn't care. "Nevermind," he interrupts, shaking his head. "You. I'm going to change. Get me a foil and wait for me downstairs."
Without so much as waiting for a response, he turns his gaze away, pointedly, making sure the servant knows he's not going to take "no", or any attitude, for an answer. He's still irritated when he crosses the threshold into his bed chamber and orders Yasuyo – she was in his bedroom, apparently – to fetch his fencing uniform from his closet. She does so, quietly, and he orders her to leave afterwards.
He hasn't had a girl dress him since he hit puberty, he's not about to start now. In any case, he enjoys putting on his fencing gear. It makes him feel as if he can truly control at least one aspect of his life.
It only takes him a few minutes to get suited up, the light grey fencing a light contrast with the nearly black clothes he wore before. Time to go see if the blond can be an good servant, Yuu thinks, rather sardonically. He nearly runs back down the hallway and manages to narrowly avoid knocking over a few maids' carts. He feels oddly excited for a reason he can't articulate or explain. There's really no reason to be enthusiastic, is there? It's probably just because he has energy to burn, he thinks, or because he can't wait to rub that blond's nose into the dirt.
When he reaches the top of the stairs, the butler isn't there. Typical. Maybe he should have waited to learn what his name was – Yuuichirou can't exactly call out for him, can he? Stifling a sigh, he lets himself clamber back down, glancing left and then right as his steps lead him to the centre of the hallway. Perhaps he'll just find Ferid, then, and ask him if he knows of any blond, rude manservants. He's probably new, and doesn't yet know what sort of job description he has.
There's a door open that wasn't before, a small storage room for clothing. Well, it's not really open, more like slightly ajar, and Yuu wonders if that's where the blond went. If not, it's not unthinkable that Ferid is in there, perhaps looking for a change of shirt. Maybe he's gotten some wine stains on it, or something. He stifles a laugh as he approaches the door silently, reaching out to grip the handle, and pushes it open to peer inside.
He was expecting piles of laundry and discarded baskets. He was not expecting to see Ferid Bathory pinning the blond butler to the wall. Neither seems to have noticed him; the head butler has his back to the doorway, and all he can see of the boy is a mop of curls near Ferid's shoulder, but he intrinsically knows that it's him.
Yuu watches in something like grotesque fascination as the silver-haired butler rolls his hips, his now ungloved hands falling to the other servant's waist. There's no finesse as he jerks the clothing down, presses himself closer, and Yuu thinks he can hear him laughing.
He should leave. He should leave before Ferid sees, before the other butler sees, before anyone sees him –
The blond's head smacks into the wall loudly as the older man jerks his head back and buries his face into his neck. For a single moment, ice blue and forest green eyes meet. Yuu forgets how to breathe.
Then he whirls around and exits the room.
