Title: Reflections
Author: Neko-chan
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji/Kuroshitsuji II
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Summary: A dream—perhaps a dream shared. Illusions and truth weaving together into a labyrinthine spider web.
Author's Note: And thus…! Here is my weekly bribe for mhikaru to ensure that she writes something herself in BlackButler(dot)net's Thursday Crack Ficlet challenge. ;D I was going to work on this tomorrow, but… I don't want to translate Cædmon's Hymn from Old English anymore. ;_; -bored-
mhikaru's prompt was: Alois and Ciel, mirrored dream sequence with a focus on "them dreaming about being happy." I took a loose interpretation to this. :P
Reflections
It was the quiet sigh and surge of the surf whispering up upon the shoreline that finally stirred Alois from his nap. He languidly awoke, lazy and idle in the summertime heat: lifting a hand to reach up into the sky to grasp the sun to pluck it from the sky. Before he could reach very far, however, a black figure leaned over him to block out the sun. Only the other's outline could be seen, and Alois frowned up at the person for taking away the heat.
"Onii," the figure said, voice filled with innocent gladness at finally finding his brother after a long time of searching.
Alois froze and stared up at Luka.
It was an eternity of sterile oblivion, the black space that lingered between "this" and "that," though the cork heels of Ciel's shoes quietly tap-tap-tapped over the drab gray of the ground. Nothing above, nothing below, nothing within sight. Perhaps one could argue that it would then become a labyrinth of shadows, but Ciel saw it as a flat landscape, two-dimensional and uninteresting—the worst sort of purgatory.
He walked and walked, not particularly caring what direction to go in here for any and all direction would end up being the same. On and on it stretched: never-ending, never-changing. It was forever and always an epitome, a perfect representation of nothingness.
As the hours—perhaps days or weeks or months or even years—passed, the vague shape of two figures began to form in the distance. It was enough for Ciel to pause, stopping for a moment as he considered the wisdom of continuing further. Sebastian's absence at his back throbbed like the misting pain of a phantom limb, missing and yet the owner could still swear that it remained, reaching and absolutely certain that it is still there—until the groping fingers come into touch with only empty air.
Ciel shivered and continued walking forward until he came face to face with his parents, alive and a perfect reflection of how they had looked on his tenth birthday.
"Ciel. Oh, Ciel," his mother murmured, opening her arms to her only child.
"…Luka?" Alois whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.
Slowly, carefully, the blonde pre-teen reached out to lightly trail his fingertips over his little brother's cheek, touch trembling and unsure. Luka was dead… wasn't he? The darkness had come and it had left Alois all alone—but it wasn't dark anymore; there was the noontime sun, and here Luke stood.
Giving a happy cry, Alois sat up and wrapped his arms tight enough to be a stranglehold around Luka's neck. "Luka!" he said with an ecstatic laugh, shifting his hold to hook one arm around his brother's neck, his free hand coming up to rub affectionately at the top of the red-haired boy's head. "You were gone for so long! I was getting worried~"
Luka just smiled and tightened his hold on Alois in answer.
Ciel stared at the woman for a long, lingering moment—but then the dark-haired boy, one who was becoming a mirror to Vincent with each and every passing day, quirked a sardonic smile and continued walking forward. It wasn't long before he was even with his parents, and it was just a step or two more until he was past them.
"You're dead," the Phantomhive heir said to his parents, his voice flat.
"Ciel? Ciel? Ciel, darling, please-!"
They dozed in the sun, spread out over a sand dune as the thick July heat pressed down upon them. It was comfortable and familiar, echoing back to how Alois and Luka would spread themselves out on the riverbank during the spring and summertime, but the sand felt so much warmer than the dirt on the bank, and if Alois closed his eyes he could pretend that his cheek was resting upon a goose down pillow. It was the type of luxury that he and Luka had always dreamed about, and it was the type of luxury that he intended to take when his wish for everyone to leave would one day come true.
It seemed as if only moments had passed before Alois could hear Luka getting up beside him, moving away. Curious, the blonde opened an eye and unconcernedly asked, "Where're you goin'? Gotta piss?"
Luka looked over his shoulder at that, giving his older brother a smile filled with such incredible amounts of love as hero-worship shone in his eyes. "No, Onii. I'm dead."
There was nothingness.
Gray mist extended for all Alois can see, and he scratched his arms deep enough to draw blood, needing some outlet for the pain of losing Luka a second time. Blood dripped down over his skin, bringing color—the slight amount that it was—to the dreary plane.
The quiet tap-tap-tapping sound interrupted the monotony of the landscape, and Alois dully raised his head to look to see what was coming. It wasn't long afterwards that Ciel appeared from the purgatorial screen, creeping tendrils of oblivion parting for the boy's determined steps. Clad in a top cat, traveling cape, and cane, the Phantomhive's heir was a picture perfect example of English nobility.
Alois curled his lip and looked away from his rival.
"I suppose you're dead, too," he commented, voice lifeless.
In answer to that, Ciel snorted in derision, looking down his nose at the other contractor. "No. Are you an idiot? Of course I'm alive," he retorted, tone of voice acerbic. The boy didn't wait for a reply and instead continued making his way forward, steps unrelenting and unforgiving. He never intended to stop, not until he finally reached his last destination.
Surprised at that, the blonde's head snapped up as he followed Ciel's journey with his gaze, eyes widening as he realized that the boy was very much alive, and though this was a dream… or was it? "Ciel—"
The other paused for just a moment, glancing back over his shoulder at Alois. He smirked after a moment and then continued on, face once more directed forever forward as he made his way towards a solitary figure a long ways off. Still, though, he spoke to Alois even if he didn't bother turning around: "I'm alive—and so I move forward, keeping no regrets to slow me down. After all, what was lost can never again be returned."
As Ciel continued making his way from Alois, the shadows began to part a little bit at a time, fading slightly until clearing completely; in the end, they revealed a slightly bowing Sebastian, pressing a hand over his heart and giving his enigmatic smile as Ciel finally stepped up before him.
Alois watched them, fingernails digging roughly into his palms; when the two—master and servant—disappeared into the shifting gray, Alois tilted his head back to scream aloud, ignoring how muted and constrained the sound ended up being.
He already knew that there wasn't anyone else around to hear.
Lashes lifted slowly, and eyes the dazzling color of the sky stared up at the ornate ceiling of his bed. The room was filled with a predawn light, and Alois hated the murky tone for how closely it resembled the place that he had just come from.
When Hannah came in later with wood for the hearth, he slapped her.
Warm sunlight, a morning's sweet kiss, filtered through the bed curtains to blanket itself comfortably over the dark-haired nobleman. Ciel stirred for a moment, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. But it wasn't until the daily ritual began that he finally lifted his lashes to open his eyes to the new day:
"Bocchan, it's time to awaken."
End.