Disclaimer: These characters are not mine; they are simply mine to play with.
He can still remember it in every excruciating detail, as if he were reliving it for the hundredth time. He can feel the film reel wrenching itself out of his chest, see it playing before his eyes. The more he tries to forget - by immersing himself in company paperwork, by instructing Sebastian to keep his schedule as full as possible - the more it wriggles into his mind. He can't stop seeing the mansion in flames, the hideously-sewn grotesque figure sitting at the dining room table, and the woman in white standing beside it, burning bright, burning bright. He can't stop crying out. He can't look away.
He can't stop seeing his mother and father and the smiles of happiness on their faces, hearing his name on their lips. He can see them clearly, right down to the beauty mark on his father's left cheek, and their faces are not distorted from years of foggy memory. He wants to hug them. He wants them to be real. He wants his parents again.
But he knows he can't. Doing so would essentially nullify the contract. Then what would he be? A wanderer and an interloper. A drunkard intoxicated by false joy.
His parents flicker and vanish as static. The film panels reel backwards.
He wakes to the sound of rustling cloth. A man is drawing back the curtains. His shoulders are lean, and he is wearing a black suit with white gloves.
"Daddy?" the words tumble out, slurred with sleep.
The butler turns around, and Ciel realizes he was mistaken. It is not Vincent Phantomhive. The man's face is paler, more angular, his eyes redder, and there is no mark marring his left cheek. Ciel turns his head away and shuts his eyes in a vain attempt to feign sleep and hide his disappointment.
"Young master…" the man says, then pauses.
It is the first time since becoming a butler that Sebastian has seen Ciel Phantomhive cry.
