If I died, how would you act?
If, before the time came for you to steal my soul from me, I were to perish like so many others before me, how would you react? Would you be angry at the loss of a meal so looked forward to? Would you shrug, spit on my motionless corpse, and search for someone new? Would you exact revenge?
Or would you cry?
You, Sebastian Michaelis, are a demon of many words. Some were filled with spite and anger towards those that would dare steal something as precious as a "pure" soul from you. Some sounded of restrained amusement when I did something you were not expecting. Some words were meant to be frightening and vengeful at once, a form of teasing towards your meal.
And some words, dearest butler, were quiet and caring, though whether you yourself noticed it is the question at hand.
If I died, would you care in the least?
How many times have I thought of killing myself, just to find out if you would chase after death? Are you only after my soul, the one that screams purity even through all the suffering it has been through? Or do you crave the body, the heart, as well?
Sebastian Michaelis, how willing are you to fight for me?
I ask these questions, and though I may not know the answers, I can guess. Every passing day, I can see your sideways glances with your striking crimson eyes, and it is the only time I do not object to your ridiculous flirtations. In those little glimpses, I feel honest concern and regret radiating from you. I know that you no longer wish to merely devour my soul. You do not want to see it go to waste.
If I died, how would you act?
You would do whatever it took to save what was left of my withered soul, whether you were able to eat it or not. Because although you do not admit it, you merely wish to caress what is me. My death would not pleasure you in the least.
If I died, would you care in the least?
You would care, because without me, your eternal life would be empty . . . soulless. You say you hate humans and their silly, completely expected reactions to everything. Yet, without this human, you would be lost; the heart that formed would become shattered once more. A heartless murderer . . . it is what you would return to, and you no longer desire that.
How willing are you to fight for me?
You would be willing to sacrifice your eternal life for my safety, even if you are the one who will take my soul in the end. You would throw everything precious away from you, if only to save what is rightfully yours. You would let nothing stop you from saving me.
It is because of this that I know that you love me, and I know that I love you in return. It is an unstable feeling, this sinful love. You will not embarrass your Young Master by pointing this out, and I am too wrapped up in my issues of pride to admit it to you. It is an unspoken agreement between the two of us that the words will never escape our heads; they will stay locked up in our ice-cold hearts until the end comes. It is easier this way, to merely assume and not know.
It makes it easier for when you shall joyously devour my soul and depart with me to the depths of hell.
And so, we remain in our own silent bliss.
This love, which tears us apart as it stitches us together.
Sebastian Michaelis, I will love you until the end.