Something I wrote for an English assignment, I changed the names for my homework, but I changed them back for fanfic ;D It's Sundae because today is the anniversary of the creation of Sundae according to google, and when I found out, I couldn't help but think what Ciel would say when he sees that lol.

-Sundae-

It was a hot Sunday afternoon in the countryside, even with the windows opened, Ciel felt extremely uncomfortable in the confine of his suit. He rather thought that his butler had made his bow tie a bit too tight. Ciel was tempted to loosen it, but knew better - for, like any other thirteen-year-old boys, he didn't want to hear the chidings from any adult; therefore, he only remained seated silently in his chair, tapping his fingers impatiently on the mahogany desk. The beat only resonated with his palpitating impatience; finally, he leaned back in his chair, letting out a frustrating groan. He could feel the humidity building between his skin and his clothing. His damned piece of eye patch sticking to his cheek. How much longer is he going to take to prepare for this trip?

Ciel tried fanning himself with an envelope on the desk, but it was no use, it made his arm tired, and it didn't helped to cool himself off much anyway. When he was about to fold the piece of paper into an airplane and throw it out of the window, he heard approaching steps outside the door - it must be his butler coming to fetch him.

"What took you so long?" The boy demanded.

"The horses seemed to be very unwilling to get out of the shades of their stables, young master." The grown man bowed deeply.

Ciel jumped off his chair, and led the way out of the study, the butler followed behind his back. Ciel was glad that the air in the hall seemed to be a little cooler compare to that of his study. He walked steadily down the marble stairwells and towards the front door, which the footman held open. He took a glance at the black horses, which were harnessed to the coach, they snorted impatiently, as if urging the boy to hurry up.

With the help of his butler, the boy stepped into the coach and set down. His butler sat across him.

"Did you prepare the roses like I asked you to?"

"Yes my lord, they are here." The man produced a rectangular box and opened it, in which laid three delicate red roses.

Ciel then swiftly put his hat on, looking out of the window, mindlessly rubbing his signet that bore his family's crest. A journey to the past this is, a journey to the death.

When the coach was pulled over, Ciel jumped off the coach; he did not need the butler's guidance - he had been here enough times to know where he should be headed. The crispy grass whispered beneath his feet, telling him in their own strange language, the secrets hidden under their roots, deep beneath the earth.

Ciel stopped in front of the three grand headstones that bore his father's, his mother's, and his aunt's name on it, each staring back at him with stone-cold indifference. Ciel took off his hat, stretched out a hand where his butler placed the three roses. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He had so many things he wanted to tell his parents and his aunt, but nothing came. Ciel placed each rose carefully on each grave. Did it matter anyways? What he had to say, they would never hear - they no longer had ears, what laid in the coffins were bones and maggots. Maybe not for his aunt, who only died less than a year ago. Ciel shuddered at the thought, trying to push the revolting image of rotting corpses out of his mind.

Standing in front of the graves with his head lowered, Ciel couldn't help but wondered what it would have been like for him if these three people were still alive. He shall be the happiest lad alive, with no worries in his mind. Stuck in his deep reverie, Ciel jerked involuntarily when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Young master, it is getting late. Shall we return to the estate?"

The boy put his hat back on before he turned around and threw one last glance at the patch of grass next to his aunt's grave - there, he knew, should he rest eternally.

"Sebastian," Addressing his butler as he stepped back inside the coach, "I want a huge glass of sundae when we are home."

"Yes, my lord." The butler smirked. A boy is still a boy.

A/N: How was it? did you like it?

It's very morbid, yes.