Hi everyone! This is my first story, so please don't judge! Also, unfortunately and obviously, I do not own any of these characters or Kuroshitsuji itself. Those rights belong to the immensely lucky individual, Yana Toboso. I appreciate any criticism and ideas from readers.
Warnings – Slight SebaCiel, some gore and violence, and a spoiler from the manga and anime storyline.
.
His Butler, Despondency
.
He had been counting. It was all he could do to cope with the pain that was veering toward insanity. It had been exactly thirteen seconds, fifty-three minutes, and two days since he'd done the unthinkable. The boy's absence left him numb and heartbroken, something he'd never felt before and something he hoped to never feel again. For eighteen seconds, fifty-three minutes, and two days, he had been laying in his master's bed, staring at the ceiling in the exact position the child used to sleep in.
He stayed in the same unmoving posture, cocooned in the sheets so tight that he could barely breathe. The boy's delicious scent wrapped around him, wonderful but nauseating. It sometimes felt as if he were lying beside him, which in some ways he was. He could feel the child's soul, felt it slowly eating away his sanity, along with any hope he had of recovering from the immense tragedy that he had caused.
That day… That horrific day was when it had happened, without warning. He was at his hunger's mercy, and that day it was particularly ravenous. He became the raging beast human's imagined demons to be. He replayed the memory over and over in his head for the thousandth time, wondering if there was anything he could have done to save him.
.
"Master? Are you all right?" His young Master's annoyance towards him was so strong, he could see the aura of annoyance surrounding him as it twirled around him, much like the quill between the boy's fingers.
"How could you let him get away?! We were so close, we had the proof, the motive, and then we finally had the perpetrator! And you- You just let him go! What in the devil's name caused you to do something so stupid?!" By the time he had finished his little rant, the Earl's face was flushed and his chest was heaving up and down from lack of oxygen.
"My Lord, please. Calm down." When the butler was sure his Master would not launch into another tantrum, he continued. "He was not our suspect. The poor man," Imbecile, he wished to add, "Had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, the man you claimed to be the executor of the crime smelled much different than the actual crime scene itself." He walked over to his Master and tilted his head up, leaning his own down so they were mere inches from one another. "Master, you know that I cannot lie, and you know that I am always right. He was not the malefactor." He decided to test the boy's ability to understand Romanian.
"Nu as lasa pe cineva care ar putea rau domnul meu iubit merge. Te iubesc prea mult." His accent was flawless, the words rolling off his tongue like smooth velvet, though he prayed the boy could not understand a single word that had tumbled from his lips. He would have been in immense trouble as well as humiliation, would never have heard an end to the child's teasing. Luckily, his only reaction was a flummoxed expression and a shrug of the shoulders at the butler's sudden use of the language.
Even after he pulled away, his Master's cheeks were still dusted with pink and he had a feeling it was because of the proximity of their faces. Lately, he had seemed odd when in his company, especially when he had to undress him so he could put on his clothes for the day, even more so when in the process of bathing the boy. For these reasons, the butler had begun teasing him in ways like he just had. It was amusing and adorable, but there was a downside to it. It sparked unfamiliar feelings inside him, feelings that made a strong demon weak. And Satan knew he was not weak.
But at the moment, the butler decided to bury those mundane feelings deep down and have fun teasing the boy. Said boy huffed out a sigh, annoyed that his contractor was right once more. "I suppose you are correct. Have you any idea where he could have gone? All of our evidence had led us to that man, and it turns out that he was not the perpetrator." He looked down at all the papers splayed out on his desk, deep in thought.
The butler felt a sudden lurch in his stomach, like tiny needles poking through his abdomen. It was almost painful, leaving him with a queasy ache, though it had been so long since he had felt the pang of hunger that he could not recognize what it was until it was far too late. In that moment, he had chosen to act like a foolish human, to ignore the strange sensations. He stood there, thinking he was being a good, obsequious butler when he should have taken leave.
Much to his horror, he later found that William T. Spears had been right. The butler had been chained down to his Master for so long - acting like one of the obedient dogs he so loathed - that his demonic instincts had failed to alert him that he needed to get away from the Earl before he got hurt.
And so the pangs continued, getting longer and more intense as the seconds ticked by, closely followed by an incessant trembling that started as a slight twitch in his finger tips and became full on spasms in his arms. If the young Master had happened to look up, he was sure he would have looked like a mad man. The smell of the child's soul wafted to his nose, tantalizing and every bit as mouth-watering as the demon had always imagined. Oh, dear…
He could not take it anymore, lest he starve! He had tried to hold himself back, he truly had, but it made no difference. The young Master's only warning was a vicious snarl that would startle anyone into a comatose state. With inhuman speed and grace, the demon sprung over the desk and landed on him. A shatter pierced the once quiet air as the king's throne finally broke, like a toothpick between mortal fingers. The servant's demon self resurfaced, fighting to take control of his body but eventually gave up, morphing into a mixture of his two selves. He still looked like Sebastian excluding the sharp black talons that extended from his fingers and ebony wings that extended from his arched back.
His claws dug into his Master's shoulders, crimson spilling out of the deep wounds. His scream was like music to the demon's ears which were starved of the sounds of human misery. It was shrill and guttural, a sound that might come from one of Hell's beasts but not his Master. His Master! A subconscious part of him came back to life, but it was not enough to stop his actions. While the outside activities continued, a silent war was raging inside his demented mind. He hated how he was still taking pleasure in his Master's screeches. This is not right! He has not fulfilled his revenge, you are hurting him!
With every scream and every gasp, it was as if the servant were driving a death scythe into himself, shoving it deeper and deeper into his un-beating heart. He gave the boy a frosty smile that did not reach his dead, calculating eyes. After he had finished bringing out the inevitable, the soul eating began.
He pulled off his blood soaked gloves and opened the boy's mouth. From between his parted lips came black smoke. His soul. Every once in a while, in the black mist that was his soul, a few wisps of gold, signifying his bravery and purity, and blue, signifying all he'd went through, the heartbreak and the sadness, would drift along as well, like strips of seaweed in an onyx sea. The demon had been waiting for that moment for centuries, or so it seemed, so why was he feeling so guilty?
The boy's eyes were filled with hurt and betrayal, and he could hear his Master's words the day that Madame Red died.
You will protect me no matter the circumstance… Sebastian… You are the one person who can never betray me… You can never leave my side… That's an order…! He had betrayed his Lord in the worst way possible. He had broken the contract and eaten his soul. His limbs finally regained their control, not that it mattered much. The only part of the boy's mutilated body that wasn't covered in blood was his head. His face remained neutral and cold, but his eyes were forever frozen in an expression of betrayal. Complete and utter hatred.
Sebastian sank to his knees, the full weight of what had just happened crushing him. He felt his heart snapping in two – After all he'd done, did he even have a heart? – and the process was slow and painful. He knew that his body now housed the boy's soul, that they were closer than ever, but in a way that was worse.
He was completely alone.
.
