Title: Turning blue
Pairing: Sebastian x Ciel
Warnings: Slash/shonen-ai (no shota!), angst, implied minor violence, older!Ciel, leading to slightly ooc!Ciel
Recommended background music: "To Be Free" by Son of Rust
A/N: My first English fanfiction. English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please let me know. Currently, I am searching for a beta reader. If you are interested, please message me. Criticism is always welcome. Please enjoy this fic! 3
„Happy birthday, my Lord."
He doesn't answer; just looks at me with those big, vacuous child-like eyes he still has not lost after all those years and that are enough to inevitably break any beholder's heart, human and demon alike.
For a moment, his lips tremble in the the biting cold of the midnight air (Is he snickering at me? Sighing, maybe? I cannot tell …) while the icy December breeze weaves a bizarre spider's web out of his freezing breath; a web dances so slowly and gracefully among the darkness. The sickly-sweet threads are enough to not only catch my stare, but they also enthrall that hidden part buried deep inside my soul – that part which wants to possess him completely and take in every fiber of his being until we both just blend together like the shadows that surround us in our shared loneliness.
I want to own him.
I want to.
I need to.
At any cost.
„You know very well that congratulations are the last thing I want on this date", his says in a casual tone and smiles – only a bit, almost unnoticeable, a smile so soft and subtle like the caress of the delicate snowflake that melts on his bottom lip just in this moment, before it drips down unto his elegant black gloves, now nothing more than a wistfully shimmering spot in the darkness.
Isn't it ironic how this tear sent from heaven is the one that betrays his smile? There is sadness in his mismatched eyes, a cold, distant glow in the darkness, almost as if they were a demon's eyes.
Maybe that impression isn't too far off …
„But young master, you are an adult now." I smirk at him, in hope to encourage him a bit, but I fail. „Why won't you try to look on the bright side?"
„An adult?" He just makes a contemptuous grimace, apparently disgusted by the mere thought. „What benefits do I gain from being 'an adult'? With you, my most precious chess piece, at my side, I don't have to play by the rules anyway. There is no freedom that I gain by becoming 'an adult'. I fought for the liberty I own myself, therefore no one but myself will choose how and when to use it. I sold my soul to achieve the liberty of doing as I please. Age means nothing to me. A year or two or twenty … it's all the same to me. I've been stuck in this treadmill for so long I can't even feel my aching bones anymore. I've lost my sense of time. Every day runs through my fingers like sand and I don't even try to hold onto it. Why would I? It doesn't even hurt anymore. Time is wasted on me. I might as well light the candles on both sides and wait for the flames to suffocate each other … I long for the dark."
He laughs with bitterness in his voice, absentmindedly stroking back his moist, slick hair with one hand.
„How pathetic I've become", he snickers. "I'm not even ashamed to tell these things to you anymore. You vulture hidden beneath a crow's feathers. I know that you are eagerly waiting for my demise, but guess what, I couldn't care less. I'm not even scared that you will toy with my insides before ripping them apart and swallowing them piece by piece. All I feel is indifference."
I fake an amused chuckle, while at the same time, I' eying him with sorrow.
„You were quite keen on living when we first met, young master", I say and reach out to touch his cheek, right beneath the contract mark, but he turns away and won't let me lay a finger on him. „I still remember your cries. The desperate grasp when you held my hand in yours, not willing to let it go. I didn't let you down, now did I, young master? And you did not deny me. You knew the fate awaiting you and still said yes. Agreeing to become a demon's prey just to escape from the clutch of death is a sign of either a great will to live or great foolishness."
Ciel shrugs my words off without as much as batting an eyelid.
„Call me a fool if you want", he tells me calmly, „but I'm tired of it all. The part in me that always wanted to live … I know it's still there – and it's neither dead nor silent – but I've sealed it away in my chest, together with that heart that seems to burst into a million little pieces whenever there is that something in my blood. That heat. That determination. Fueled by my pride, it struggles against my despair, until it's almost there, almost alive."
He pauses.
"Almost."
I look at him in sad astonishment; a second later, my will surrenders to the night.
The cold suddenly feels so heavy as it sinks deep into my lungs. And it burns. It burns so much my whole ribcage seems to be consumed by icy flames. Breathing hurts. Moving is impossible. My tongue is useless for I can't speak.
And I don't know why.
What would a Phantomhive servant do if he could not even stand the frost of a snowy winter's night?
This is the first time that the thought does not put a grin upon my face. I can't even manage a small smirk, as I my eyes wander off into the legions of tiny snowflakes that are swallowed by all these gloomy shadows around me, while the delicate white dancers themselves appear to move like one single conscious being, persistently suffocating every ray of light that might have been there in its seemingly weightless embrace.
The only light the snow can't take away is the bizarre jaded shine of those huge, ocean-deep orbs that tear apart the blackness as if the night obediently bowed before its great king.
The king just stands there, trembling from the freezing cold, but otherwise completely motionless, with snowflakes melting in his dark hair and eyes that seem just like the twilight sky to me – a mixture of the purest royal blue and that mysterious, vivid, sensual violet that paints the sky either welcoming the sun in the morning or tenderly putting it to sleep in the evening,
Dusk or dawn? Which one is it?
Only he knows and he will keep his secret to himself. There's no chance I will ever know.
But I want to. I want to explore. I want to dive into the bottomless depths of those bizarre eyes that are reflecting the night sky so sweetly in their empty gaze. I long to solve each and every riddle they hide in their most intimate vaults. I want to drown – drown in this beauty before it will shatter in my hands, forever lost and never to be forgotten.
No, I will not let go. Not yet.
„You are still so young", I whisper lowly and not even I know, why this burning need to comfort the meaningless human boy right before me has overtaken me all of a sudden. „You can start anew any time. Bury your grief and lead the life you want. You have got me, young master. I will do everything for you. Choose a star on this firmament and I will lay it at your feet. My power rests in your hands, young master. Use it to your heart's content."
"For a demon, you're remarkably naive, Sebastian", he quietly objects. "I can't just decide to live again as if that fire that drives my soul had never died down. There's too much I've thrown away, too much I've lost. There's no dream left for my to pursue; they are all the same to me. May they be chased by someone who will cherish them in the end, but for me, it's too late. I'm wasting away, Sebastian. I feel it."
"What a foolish young master you are. Except for your asthma you are perfectly healthy."
"Idiot", he snorts at me. "Even if my body will work just fine for the next seventy years, where's the use when my soul is dead to begin with? What's life if I can't feel it? It's your fault ..."
"My fault?" Astounded, I tilt my head to the side, while he just stares at me in disgust and accusation.
"What are you thinking, young master?", I try to laugh off his childishness. "I have no use for a dead soul. That foul, bland taste is not to my likening."
"You, as a demon, might not understand it, but a human who has everything is already dead inside", he explains, his voice void of any emotion. "It's desire that keeps us alive. And desire is born out of deprivation, like happiness is born out of pain – that kind of pain, you can easily let go, not the kind of pain you try to lock inside yourself and carry around like a heavy burden until you're too sore to feel anything. I know what that's like. It might work just fine for a year, maybe two or three, but one day, you suddenly realize that your body is nothing more than a machine, hollow on the inside, with skin made of sandpaper to grind every emotion into the tiniest bits that will be blown away by the restless storm inside your weary thoughts before you can get a hold of them. You know it's true."
We both stop breathing for a second and instead, just stare at each other, hoping our eyes could say this something our minds could not quite grasp.
With invisible hands, we reach for each other, but we're too far. So close and yet so far …
Once we get home, I will prepare a warm milk with honey for him, I ponder to myself, right before my thoughts become incoherent. I will stay by his bedside and hum him to sleep, holding his hand if he asks for it. I will be there, like all the times before. But he will not ask for me to hold him, like all the times before. He has never asked for it … why?
Is this what humans call 'confusion'? Such a strange sensation … All I know is that my master needs to go to sleep soon, softly buried underneath his eiderdown blankets, with a large pillow for him to rest his aching head upon.
White shall surround him; warming instead of chilling – feathers instead of snowflakes - all these snowflakes that seem so much like a diadem made of fallen stars due to the way they subtly sparkle in Ciel's hair …
Lifeless. Majestic. Beautiful.
Those short-lived, precious pearls suit him oh so well.
"If it's desire you wish for, young master, maybe I shall teach you how to yearn for something?", I tenderly mock him, a playful smile on my face, trying to lure him into the same of old game we've been playing for years now. "I will do anything to make you happy."
Come play with me, lost little pup. The more you resist, the more I lust for you …
Ciel's expression doesn't change the slightest. He just gazes at me, deep into my eyes, searching for that connection between us that goes beyond any contract and beyond anything a master and butler could share.
That desire my lord asked for burns inside our hearts and we know it, yet we both remain still, absolutely still.
"Do you even know how much you contradict yourself?", he asks and laughs without any joy in his eyes.
He comes closer. One step. Another one.
I forget to breathe.
Without a word, he puts his arms around my chest. Unsurprisingly, he feels so cold – chilled down to the bone despite his warm coat.
I draw him closer, press him against my body to warm him up, but he just keeps laughing. Laughs and laughs until I can spot tiny tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
It feels like holding a sobbing child in my arms.
Gently, I wipe away the melted snow from his face with my gloved fingers, still lost in these eyes – these clouded, cursed, intoxicating eyes that are so veiled with sorrow, but at the same time so clear … So clear indeed they almost seem unearthly to me.
How will I ever forget them? They will haunt me, be it hundreds, be it thousands of years from now. I know they will be there, engraved into my mind forever.
Oh Ciel, what have you done to me?
I can feel his laughter ebbing away in my embrace.
And I can sense him.
In every single way.
He trembling against my skin is tormenting. His faint heartbeat echoing in my head is agonizing.
Even for me, it's too much to take. The mask begins to crack, but I can't walk away. But I should, oh, I should!
Overflowing with melancholy, I bury my face in his fragrant hair, now incidentally being just close enough to hear Ciel's nigh-inaudible whispers.
"The only desire that keeps me alive, is what you have me yearning for with every breath I take …"
Hesitantly, he looks up to me, looking almost innocent again. For a moment, he is no more than a lonely little boy in my arms, brittle and weak.
How tempting …
I lean in to him until we're face to face and his features begin to blur before my eyes like a faint reflection in hazy water.
We both know what we want. Every breath we eagerly draw into our lungs is a silent prayer – a prayer addressed to nobody, begging for … for what? Forgiveness?
Like it would matter …
We are alone with ourselves. There is nobody in this world except for us, at least not in this moment. My heart is screaming for him and I know he is the same – the touch of his hand, now wrapped around my neck, says it all.
I wait for him to drag me closer, closer, closer …
It's gravity. We can't defy it.
How I wish we could …
"Come on", he invites me, his breath teasingly stroking my lips. "Extinguish the last flame in my soul that isn't frozen yet."
I tremble uncontrollable.
It's not the cold. Nor is it fear. Nor is it ecstasy.
It's just this overwhelming experience, the war I have to fight against myself.
Don't give in, I beseech myself, but a part of me won't listen.
Finally.
Finally I drown, like I always wanted to. The air has vanished from my lungs, I want to gasp, but my lips are glued together, hungering only for what his angelic mouth has to offer.
Right now, I need him. More then ever. More than anything.
My life depends on giving him exactly what he so foolishly dared asking for.
Why doesn't he turn away? Why does he hold me so tightly in his delicate arms without any fear? Doesn't he know the price?
I can't breathe. There is no air. There is no light.
There's only Ciel – and that deep, empty, pitch black abyss in the very center of his intact eye.
I fall.
I drown.
I'm caught in the undertow; there's no escape, but I don't mind. I'm hypnotized. We're turning blue just like our frozen lips.
Slowly, oh so slowly, I begin to sink deeper as every remaining thought is sucked into midnight's sweet, soothing oblivion.