Happy valentines day my sugary candy skullzzzzzz!
Here's a little treat since I'm now on archive of our own. I still post on my other Fan Fic profile but i figured i would give out a throwback chapter ;)
Check out the links on my profile for the full unedited versions.
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is owned by Yana Toboso.
October, NYC
For the past three years, on the first Saturday of every month, come hell or high water, Ciel Phantomhive would walk down Irving Place and stop in front of probably one of the more famous tea houses in New York City, Lady Mendl's.
A favorite among tea connoisseurs, this particular tea house boasts a gorgeous dark brownstone facade with wrought iron banisters and large double wooden doors. Large ornate windows decorated the front of the hundred year old tea house and once you stepped in, is when the magic of time and nostalgia would reveal itself to you. Much like the unwrapping of a gift, the grand foyer reveals an impressive fireplace and mantle while the numerous rooms are filled with Victorian styled paintings, dim lighting; dark wood furniture and a most exquisite collection of fine china tea sets.
A feast for mind body and soul, this was one of Ciel's most favored spots in the city. He had always fancied himself as "time misplaced". Yes, it was an odd phrase and yet he had no problem explaining his affinity to the Victorian Era to anyone willing to listen.
Even now, as he pulled out the silver pocket watch purchased from some antique shop in the East Village for a mere twenty dollars, Ciel expressed his appreciation of the elegant time period. Checking the time to see that his beloved best friend and cousin, Lizzie, was 20 minutes late for their monthly classic high tea that they attended.
Ciel sighed heavily and clicked the treasured timepiece closed before tucking it into the back pocket of his black pants. It never failed that after three years Lizzie still couldn't get there on time.
A warm autumn breeze softly ruffled his gleaming blue black bangs away from his large and searching eyes. Lizzie had once teased Ciel about his eyes "never being at rest", and perhaps she was right, he had thought. His eyes were at constant alert, skimming over every detail and every face that passed in front of him. Wide and almost doll like, the warm sapphire eyes wrapped around every action, questioning, inquiring, wondering, but depthless eyes that hid pain, fear and at that very moment...hopelessness.
The monthly ritual of the two cousins had become such ever since Ciel met his cousin one Saturday and pronounced to her that he was clear of his childhood leukemia. If he could go through a five year remission then he would look forward to a full life that could be considered almost cancer free.
Almost.
Lizzie had been so happy, thrilled and practically throwing roses into the air, when Ciel told her the incredible news. It took some gentle, yet firm, words to pry her thin (but inhumanly strong) arms from around his waist as she hugged, or crushed according to Ciel, her beloved cousin.
"We have to celebrate!" She squeaked holding his heart shaped face in her hands. "Just the two of us! It's time we do something different, something uniquely you, something to mark the day you start living again!"
Ciel smiled softly to himself, recalling the particular Saturday afternoon that Lizzie surprised him with a trip to the tea house. He had fallen in love with the decor, the spicy smells of fresh tea leaves, the plates of sweets, and the smiles and laughter his beautiful cousin had provided him. In truth, Lizzie was the only person he could gain any form of comfort and trust from, especially after having almost died.
Almost.
Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive wove their entire world into a tight and protective blanket around their only child and Ciel both gained and suffered from it.
He had been diagnosed at the age of 10 after sporting numerous large bruises on his legs and arms even without having done anything physically daunting. Coupled with fatigue and chronic nosebleeds, a red flag had unfurled itself within his Aunt Ann, a respected pediatrician at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital Seeing the bruises, she immediately sent Ciel to a renowned oncologist, Dr. William T. Spears.
It was true that the brilliant doctor lacked a warm bedside manner, but what he fell short in manners he more than made up for with his incredible knowledge of childhood cancers, new treatments and incredible support.
In response to the frightening news of his son's uncertain future, Vincent immersed himself into running his wildly successful company, effectively drowning himself in meetings and traveling. It was his only coping method, as if distancing himself from Ciel would make the cancer somehow nonexistent.
When Vincent was home he enjoyed his family and attempted to avoid any mention of Ciel's illness. In contrast, Rachel had ignored her own grief and met the challenge of a potentially fatal disease killing her son head on.
Ciel frowned now as he recalled early memories of his mother never leaving his side; forgoing her busy social life and friends in their wealthy and prestigious circle in order to cater to her adored child. His guilt for feeling like he "stole her life" was something he could never come to terms with.
At the time, he could only think about his own loneliness. He was not allowed play dates for fear his compromised immune system from those sickening rounds of chemotherapy would cause him to catch colds or some other illness. These colds could kill him, Ciel understood that, but the result was a life devoid of any lasting friendships among his peers because he had to be home schooled. That is until three years ago when he had received the all clear.
Lizzie was the only one allowed to remain close to him and he thanked whatever God he hoped existed for having her by his side.
Now Ciel stood at the front entrance of their cherished tea house, waiting for his ever late cousin. His eyes nervously flitting up and down the quiet street hoping to see a curly mop of brilliant golden hair coming to his direction.
How could he tell her? He wondered. How was he going to create the collection of words that would soon devastate Lizzie's world? He bit his bottom lip and looked down at his black shoes, they were brand new and for a brief and pained moment, he wondered how they would look against a white satin surface.
In a coffin, his mind whispered.
A shudder ran through his entire body and for a few terrible seconds, Ciel thought for sure that he was going to pass out. A dizzying wave washed over him and all he could do was shut his eyes tightly and will himself not to lose consciousness.
"Oh God, not now, not now." He muttered harshly to himself as he steadied his shaking form by gripping the cold metal banister with one hand. His free hand rubbed his sweaty face and he grit his teeth in order to suppress the sob slowly clawing its way up his throat. "My heart." He whimpered lowly as he clutched the left side of his chest.
First the dizziness, then the sweat, now the heart palpitations. All classic signs of the panic attacks that had assumed their vicious place in his life last night after returning from Dr. Spears' office.
His breath was becoming ragged and he was sure that his hands had turned ice cold. "I'm fine, I'm fine, please...God, not now. Not. Now." He begged weakly, knowing that there was no way he could allow Lizzie to see him like this.
No way she was to see him lose any bit of control because now was not the time to fall apart. Now was not the time to succumb to grief, no this was not acceptable. From a young age Ciel had known that his life was not a promise that could be 100% fulfilled. When you are diagnosed with leukemia, every year is considered a milestone of being alive.
Every year was filled with hospitals, doctors, platelet transfusions, scans, prayers, pain, fear, progress, setbacks, nausea, and his ivory skin littered with grotesque bruising from the tests and the cancer itself. No, Ciel was no weakling when it came to facing life and its uncertainties.
But he had lived with hope for three years. Three years of high teas, graduating high school and entering college, dating, making friends, planning his future as a famous photographer, enjoying New York; LIVING. He had two years left before successfully entering into remission and he had almost made it.
Almost.
Now here he was, standing in front of Lady Mendl's awaiting the arrival of his tardy cousin and fighting the urge to run back to his small apartment and relinquish any control to the panic attack threatening to overtake him in the middle of a New York City block on a warm autumn afternoon. He wanted to run and deny the news that he had received just the day before.
"Ciel, your white blood cell count is heavily elevated. The cancer has resurfaced". The memory of Dr. Spears voice echoing through his mind.
'Almost.' his mind quietly cried, 'Almost.'
"Excuse me, sir? Are you alright?"