* Quote belongs to: s/5693877/1/Lies

AN: I do not own Kuroshitsuji or the characters contained within. Quotes belong to their respective authors, and I've done my best to put credit where it is due. Once more this series goes out to My Lord, may he find it at least mildly entertaining.

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"I have always thought it would be a blessing if each person could be blind and deaf for a few days during his early adult life. Darkness would make him appreciate sight; silence would teach him the joys of sound." -Hellen Keller.
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Ten thousand years, not a day. Ten thousand years, at least. Darkness was his world. Darkness was everything he knew, and everything he was. He appreciated sight well. Too well. Too observative. Missing nothing. Always catching even the slightest detail, the most minute twitches of his Master's skin, eyes, fingers...Even the Young Lord's toes were not ignored. His observing nature made him seem...Psychic. As though he could see straight through the mind of the boy, inside, outside, upside down and backwards. This was hardly the case, however, as the child still seemed to surprise him upon a daily basis. Each and every time it brough a cold, sly smile to those thin lips, baring those glitteringly white teeth.

As for silence... The quiet was as detailed a sentence as the loud. Words spoke, actions spoke thousands of words, and silence spoke trillions. In listening to him speak, he could whittle away at the little inflections, the minute sounds, the catching of breath, the hard swallows, the whispers, the shouts, the sharp catch in his voice when he was angry... Oh but the silence. The way those mismatched eyes moved for a mere moment uncomfortably when silence first fell. The confident glare they held when it continued. Always determined to overcome the silence, not with noise, no, but wish sheer determination not to allow it to fester upon his mind. The Young master was so calm, yet so turbulent. It was utterly fascinating.

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"The first breath is the beginning of death." -Proverbial Saying.
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The first breath. The first catch of that scent. The untamed beast standing before the cage. Not a care in any world for the other useless beings in the room-only one mattering. Only one he would drag his claws across, into, ripping tearing killing savouring. The only one he would even consider sliding that dark tongue across. Whose blood would be his undoing. Whose eyes-those wide, unafraid, almost perfect eyes (For they were not marked then)-could merely narrow and control the uncontrollable. Whose breath was the very lifeblood of the demon. Late nights of leaning very cautiously over the sleeping form, just for a small taste. The smallest intake of breath, like smelling the cake before it is removed from the oven. Just the most minute hint of flavor before the feast. He would have that one. None other. Ever.

...And it would be the end of him, in time.
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"What is Love but the Demon inside? Or an Angel, with play on his mind?" -John A.
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He certainly no angel. Incomparable to even the fallen sort, for he was not insane as they were. He was wise, cunning, and manipulative. He could wind his words and ways about the ideal of Love. It was all too possible, all too easy to have the child think he was loved. To have the boy pondering rather than doing his work over such the word. It was too easy, too fun, to watch the boy writhe in the intimate throwes of his 'love' his passion, his was a demon, after all. Demons felt not love. They felt nothing of it, knew not what it truly was... It was so opposing of their nature, that should one truly feel it, it would destroy him or her. Yet, he played it well enough. Played the desires, the wantings, the command of those wanton sounds slipping from those soft lips. He played the word 'Love' perfectly...

Until the day it struck him with a sound.
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"...silence would teach him the joys of sound." -Hellen Keller.
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...And this sound would teach him the joys of silence.

It was confused for the watch. Though not kept in the breast pocket, an odd sensation that was. Some sort of fluke. A mere fluke and nothing more. It was just oddity that lead him to feel the ticktickticktick of his watch from his waistcoat to his bosom. It was merely that, and nothing more. And that is precisely why he crushed the watch one day. Hellfire staring down, thinned pupils in a silent, calm rage, upon the accursed noise maker. But it continued. Oh, then it was some other timepiece in the mansion, and must be dealt with immediately. Each one was shattered and put back in place, each and every one while his Master was busy with work. Every antique, every modern, every. Last. Ticking. Thing. If they did not tick, he would not feel it. He would not feel that maddening thing at his chest. It was like a bird, pecking upon his bones. The irony.

All of them destroyed. Every one. And the sound remained. It was not. It would not be. It could not be. There was no possible way.
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"A lie told often enough...becomes truth." -Unknown.
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He'd certainly said it enough times. He'd shown it enough times. It was said that he did "..not lie, as human's did." * Though he did lie. And that falsehood had become his undoing. His bane. He was not human...Though he was no longer demon. He denied it for days, weeks, months. Continuing the lie, though now even the boy had realized the hesitation.
The pause before the words. The odd happenings. The strange ways his familiar demon had been acting out as of late. Why would this creature, so perfect and so forward, have reason to hesitate upon anything? Especially something Ciel had so thoroughly picked apart, and knew every detail of? The young man knew, with every bone, that this creature was pretending. Why not play along? Was it not the demon's intent to season his meal before devouring? Taste your own, devil.
He was becoming questionable, and the one finally broke him. The Earl had a fondness for asking questions that implied they were about the butler, but were actually of the creature beneath the mask. It was one final question that broke him. An uncharacteristic fall, an embrace that confused the one who performed it as much as it did the one receiving. Then there were the strange flutterings. He would forever deny the existence of such a feeling, but the child felt it. Even with the demon upon his knees, chest was pressed to stomach, and there was no denying what had been felt by one, even as the other did deny it.

At first it was a taunt. A scare tactic used against the butler... Until it was realized that the feeling did not occur of the demon's control. That was to say, he had not created the movement in his chest. He had not manipulated the immitation of a heartbeat. It was there. Honestly, truly.
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"A heart's a heavy burden." -Howl's Moving Castle.
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It was a burden. It was a weight upon his daily tasks. It was an all-encompassing chore to carry around. Resentment had built upon it, toward it. He loathed its existence more than the light above the world. There was even a morning where he was late, late, in preparing breakfast. The time-perfect, punctual and ever perfect Sebastian Michaelis was once delayed a full three minutes in his morning duties. Why, you ask? Certainly you do. Dark nails had dug into fake flesh, lengthy claws gouged at dark feathers and beak penetrated inhuman bones and tore at flest, ripping, tearing, clawing, cawing, shaking, molting, biting, gnawing. He had attempted to remove it, with no avail. There was no physical trace within the false flesh. None either within the true form of the beast. It was deeper than flesh. Deeper than those talons could reach. He was stuck with it.

Healing the skin he moved about in daily was easy. Healing himself was no simple feat. There was excess cleaning involved for days. Perfectly cared for, and went unknown to the young Lord. Mismatched eyes did not see, button nose did not smell, nor did small ears hear of the calamity that had occurred.
He would never know of his demon's attempt at ripping out it's own heart.
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"Acceptance and tolerance and forgiveness, those are life-altering lessons. "
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Tolerance was easily mastered, eons before the boy. Forgiveness was not something he had to learn. It was a concept that did not even occur to him, for the matter of humanity such as 'forgiveness' and 'revenge' were merely things to manipulate with, not be manipulated by. But, Oh, Acceptance. That was a hard lesson to learn.

Once learned, however, it could be used. He accepted this 'love' this 'heart' within him, and used it to a new advantage. Or, rather, tried.

He attempted to use it to increase the boy's pleasure. To further that wickedly wonderful, poisonously flavorful scent that fell from those lips upon that breath. That did not last, either. It was seen through. Ciel was all the wiser in some aspects, much to the demon's amazement. In time it was accepted, and it was allowed to let grow. In time, it changed the two, barely, almost unnoticeably. The servants did not realize any difference. The guests had no clue. The butler knew, and as did the Earl... And it was a secret they would take to their graves... Or, rather, one would. The other kept a new lie for quite some time; that it was Sebastian Michaelis, and not the demon that felt the new sensation.

That secret was undone in time, as well.
-End Ch 1-