Hello there, readers.
I had this inspiration in the middle of the night, then forgot it. It came back to me when I was looking at doujinshi (not perverted doujinshi, Amberstar of Randomclan!) for some of my favorite pairings. I am an ENORMOUS Seb/Ciel shipper (don't hate), but I also find the pairing Ciel/Alois to be very kawaii. So I wrote this.
Amberstar of Randomclan, Cloud Molester, and a certain probing fangirl- this ficlet is my baby. Don't you dare laugh. Suck it in...
Warnings: I rated this T for abuse, and minor character death. That's all I have.
Disclaimer: Sadly, the amazing world of Kuroshitsuji is not mine to own. If it was, I would marry Ciel, kidnap Sebastian, and give Alois Trancy a bit 'ole pity hug.
Ever since he was a young boy at a tender age, Alois Trancy had felt the need to touch. To Alois, touch was a sign of trust, hope, and freedom. His thoughts on touch were pure and unblemished for the first ten years of his life. He gave chaste kisses and big bear hugs to his brother Luka. His adopted father, Claude Faustus, would ruffle his blonde hair and hold his hand in the street. He was happy and carefree, like a twirling butterfly in a world of light. That's when Alois was kidnapped, and his life changed forever.
The men came in the dead of night, when smoky tendrils of fog wrapped around the dark city. Alois slept soundly in the apartment, lying on his small four poster in nothing but a pair of plum colored boxers. He held a small pillow in his arms and nuzzled into his blankets sleepily. Little did he know that that would be his light night without pain. It was all the men's fault.
He was still half asleep, a chick freshly snatched from the brood. He was still half asleep. Groggy, and tossing in the dangerous arms of the men. Then they brought Alois in front of HIM, the man that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. That horrible man, who sat at the front of a long warehouse and examined Alois and Luka with lazy eyes. He recline on a long bench, looking sleazy and weak, but motioned his cronies to the side so he could take a good look at the kidnapped youngsters.
The man stepped forward and put a grimy hand under Alois' chin, tilting it upward to look into his clear blue eyes. Alois was quite frightened and felt violated and insecure. Who was this man? Why was the man touching him like he was property to own? He flinched away from the probing fingers.
But the man continued, pushing blonde locks away from Alois' pale face. "A suitable candidate...will rack up some dough, eh?" He muttered, stepping back to size the young boy up. He squished his disgusting features together in concentration, peering at Alois' body from head to toe. "Alas...he has such evil eyes. They mar his beauty...but I'll keep him."
The scary man stepped away from a terrified Alois, now training his beady little eyes on Luka. Luka whimpered, backing up and stepping away from the man.
He tutted, shaking his bald head slowly in dismay. "This one isn't good enough. Pallid skin, weak limbs, crooked features. Can't make a thing out of him, this one. He's far too imperfect, far too ugly. You should really think before you bring me grotesque kids. Hear?"
Alois' blood boiled. He was furious. How dare ANYONE talk about his beloved brother like that? This man most certainly did not have the authority to throw around such deprecating insults, much less to aim them at sweet, caring Luka.
"Holmes, finish him off. Make it quick though, chop chop."
A second. It took only a second. Alois comprehended the man's words a second too late. Yet, a second was all it took for Holmes, a bulky bald man on the right wall, to load his pistol and point it directly at his brother's head.
BANG.
Luka's body crumpled like a piece of paper, hitting the ground with a measurable thud. Alois screamed aloud, and without thinking clearly sprinted towards his younger brother's lifeless corpse. Sobs wracked the blonde's little frame, and tears clouded his eyes and blurred his vision. Alois' arms were stretched, he had to get to Luka's body, had to make sure he wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead, he couldn't, he must be alive, Luka had to wake up…
"Holmes, take him to his cell. He's out for auction tomorrow. Beat him if he cries, beat him if he sobs, beat him if he screams. But don't bruise him, OK? We need him sharp and pretty to be sold. And make sure he doesn't get anything to eat. We can't have him spoiled."
Holmes calmly walked over to the grief stricken Alois, scooping him up over his meaty shoulder, much to the younger's protests. "No, Luka!" He screamed, sobs and yells cracking his voice and rendering it useless. There was no point to life now, no reason to live for the blonde. He had nothing to look forward to without his beloved Luka. And as he fell silent upon Holmes broad back, he looked upon his baby brother for the very last time. The last moments of his innocence were gone, like twirling dandelion seeds on a summer day. Gone, forever.
Alois knew better than to speak. Or ask for food. Or, actually, ask for anything. Or even speak to the man in front of him. Instead he sat in the cell provided for him, tears running down his face and clearing his eyes. He was in a state of denial. Was Luka really dead? Why did that man kidnap him? And he was going to be auctioned? At that moment, Alois really felt like dying. Or killing his terrible kidnappers. But alas, according to them, he was to be sold the next day. Like a pitiful, ugly slave. Not like a charming little boy. Not like who he was.
The next day, Alois was taken to see the light again. He was placed atop a grimy and slimy podium as old men with leering faces took turns poking and prodding his tiny body. He tried to squirm out of the binding ropes that were cutting off his circulation, but to no avail. He was stuck among the perverted pedophiles who would take him home and use him to their own individual purposes and preferences.
The man, the man who killed Luka, the man who shattered his world, held one of his hands in his own, proclaiming that Alois was "Young and spry, he'll last you a while! Probably a good bedmate too, I haven't tried him out for meself!" This earned some guffaws from the crowd. Alois felt like throwing up, though nothing had graced his stomach for two days.
Then they came. His saviors, the police. They barged into that little makeshift marketplace, and snatched up the pitiful blonde. Handcuffs made satisfying snaps against the wrists of his slaveholders, and men were scooped up for questioning all around him. Alois didn't know what to do until a big bosomed woman scooped him up and held him to her chest. He just clung to her, tears of gratitude leaking out of his ice blue eyes. She placed him gently in the police car, and they drove in silence to the station.
"You are Alois Trancy, right?"
"Um...yes ma'am. Thank you for saving me."
"Such a polite boy."
"Um, thanks again."
"Now, my boy, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. As if you haven't seen the worst in the last couple of days. Will you be alright?"
"I have nothing to live for anymore."
"Oh, my dear…"
"Please don't try to comfort me, ma'am. I'll be OK."
"...oh, dear. Your adopted father, Mr. Faustus?"
"Claude? What happened to him?"
"The night you were kidnapped...he was assassinated. You'll be deported to the nearest orphanage presently."
"That's it? That's all you got?"
"You aren't...fazed by this news?"
"...where's the bathroom? I have to go."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I have to go."
"OK. I'll walk you there."
"I can go myself."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Nobody in the police force knew that Alois cried himself to sleep that night, as he clutched a hard pillow and thought that he had nobody left now. He was alone in this terrible world, thanks to the groping hands of a kidnapper and his minions.
He was taken to the orphanage the next day. It's name was Ms. Agatha's Home For Boys, a rather stereotypical name, Alois thought to himself. He was showed his room, and his few belongings were put in a closet. Alois felt safe and sad.
For the next few years, Alois lived a mundane and routine life without excitement. He was a loner from the very beginning, and refused to socialize with the other orphans. It worried the caretakers in the orphanage, but the boy had been through a lot.
Alois was fourteen when HE arrived.
The boy was very small in stature, at least five inches shorter than Alois. He had dark blue hair, dark like the ocean at night. His face was round and childish, but pretty. He walked with a certain sense of pride and carried himself like a king. But his most distinctive feature was an eyepatch over his right eye, only letting the boy survey his new home with another eye of cerulean blue.
His name was Ciel Phantomhive. Alois was instantly in love with him.
He spent the next few weeks trying to get close to Ciel. He tried to talk the boy up, but Ciel was much more interested in a solitary game of chess, or a lone newspaper. He didn't want to speak with the chatty boy with blonde locks and an infectious smile.
He only responded with single words. Grunts and phrases were common, and when Alois received a sentence from his secret love, elation would carry him through the rest of the day. So to make the boy talk to him more, Alois would touch him.
Ciel would be painting a picture of something in the parlor, maybe a vase of roses or the sleeping cat on the windowsill. So Alois would walk up behind him and wrap skinny arms around the other boy's neck. Sometimes Ciel would grumble unhappily and shove him off, but sometimes he would be content to let the boy's arms lie there as he watched the mesmerizing movements of a brush on canvas.
Ciel might be reading a book, holding it up to his eye and leaving his lap free. So Alois would put his head in Ciel's lap, looking up at the boy as he read, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. Sometimes Ciel would ask to boy to get off in his regal tone, saying that he couldn't concentrate like that. But sometimes Ciel would let the boy lie there, sometimes putting one hand on Alois' head and mussing the blonde hair.
Ciel Phantomhive would never admit that he was fond of the boy, but the truth would come out in his actions. The hyper blonde had a sort of happy effect on him after a while. And he did like the singular affection, devotion, and attention that Alois offered him. It was cute. And Ciel never thought he would fall for the boy, but he had.
And Alois? Ever since he was a young boy at a tender age, Alois Trancy had felt the need to touch. To Alois, touch was a sign of trust, hope, and freedom. His thoughts on touch were pure and unblemished for the first ten years of his life. He gave chaste kisses and big bear hugs to his brother Luka. His adopted father, Claude Faustus, would ruffle his blonde hair and hold his hand in the street. He was happy and carefree, like a twirling butterfly in a world of light.
Now, as they sat in the living room and watched an old movie in the parlor together, Ciel Phantomhive took the elegant hand of his secret love and entwined their fingers. A blush decorated his cheek, but Alois smiled widely and leaned his head on the smaller boy's shoulder.
Yes. Alois had his innocence back. All it took was a simple touch from the one he loved.
AN: THAT. WAS. SO. SAPPY.
Also, the thoughts were a bit scattered. I feel like I didn't have Ciel in there enough. Maybe I'll do a rewrite or major edit someday.
But, I worked hard on it. Leave me feedback! I love comments, they make me sparkle.
Thanks for taking the time to actually read this! Check out some of my other stories.