Ciel stared out of the window of his office, snowflakes falling gently onto it's pane. He watched as they dissipated into nothing, the uniqueness lost in a bundle of exactness, so that it was no longer a snowflake. It was only cold, icy, and waiting for a forlorn bird to come and step on it. To be crushed, and mutilated under the world's pressure. Though, that didn't matter for this snowflake. It was never alive, and therefore it never cared.

His eye trailed over the white plain in front of him, the road covered with snow, and only now being shoveled by his winter-clad servants. They did less shoveling however, than they did playing. The young Earl could only shake his head and return to his desk, his one eye darting to the settling fire in the room.

Calling for his butler, Ciel sat in his his chair, the chair that once held his father, now too large for the small boy. Though the comfort of it never left, the plushness nearly like sitting in his own mother's lap. This was why he fell asleep so often in this chair. And why he'd wake up with starts, in fits of tears when he'd realized he wasn't in the hold of his parents. Yes, it was terrible, Ciel often wished he didn't have feelings; to be inhuman and unfeeling like Sebastian would have been a gift. If he could only consume, could only work. Life would be so much easier. So much more tolerable.

As Sebastian stepped into the room, the bluenette's eyes flickered up to watch him. He leaned back in his seat "The fire is dimming, Sebastian." And, with his few words it was back to a flame, the bright colors flickering dangerously in a show of orange and red. "I'd like something to drink." he said, and on the cold winter days, the choice of drink was obvious: Hot chocolate, pure and rich. The boy's butler nodded and gave a small bow, saying the four words that finalized his command "Yes, young master."

With this, the butler was off, leaving the young Earl once again to his thoughts. They always ended in agony, never once was he happy in the end of them. With a deep sigh, Ciel turned his chair, looking out at the snow once more. Ah, the pointless flakes. Why, he wondered, should such a hopeless discovery be made that they were indeed all different?

They only all ended the same.