AN: This is dedicated to my baby brother, who is the light of my life and continues to encourage me to write, despite not knowing what I'm writing.
Warnings: contains suggestive and depressive/suicidal themes, probably a little OOC, pretty sappy/dramatic, long and my first attempt and stuff like this.
Disclaimer: Yana Toboso=not me. Therefore, I don't own Kuroshitsuji… or the references/quotes from The Great Gatsby
PLEASE NOTE: ". . ." means the start of a new page.
Thanks for reading, review if you like it!
P.S. Needless to say, I'm sorry if this story upsets/triggers anything for anyone because it's not my intention to offend anyone.
December 18
To whoever is reading this,
I have decided to take my regrets and express them in hopes that I can save at least one person from making my mistakes. However, the only way you can understand is if I tell you everything from the very beginning. Being who I am, I have enclosed every detail of the story in this letter in hopes you read it and forgive me for what I have done.
You see, my life is a collection of "ifs" and the constant replaying of scenarios my mind burdens me with. My disappointments stem from my refusal to take any chance that risks me losing anything. Unfortunately, this world has a way of mocking you, and every temporary indecision you face has the potential to become the tipping point of your own happiness. I learned this all too late, but you don't have to.
When I first met him, I was four days old. I was born prematurely on December 14, weighing a stunning one and a half pounds. He was almost two, his birthday falling a year and eleven months before mine.
Our mothers were best friends, living right across each other for thirteen years until his mom moved away for university. They remained in contact even when they lived cities apart, and were so close that they considered each other family.
Twenty five weeks into her pregnancy, my mother started feeling immense pain in her lower back. My father took her to the Royal Hospital where my aunt worked. Aunt Ann found her body was ready to go into labour. On further examination, she saw I was exhibiting signs of fetal distress, and so she and her fellow doctors performed an emergency C-section to save me.
A few hours later, I was born. They allowed my parents a glimpse of me before placing me in an incubator, and moving me to a private room. Mother was more than anxious by then, but my father reassured her.
"He'll be fine. He's a Phantomhive after all."
Then, being the workaholic he was, he left for a business meeting the moment my mother and I were out of the delivery room.
News of my birth spread as quickly as gossip could. Even before opening my eyes, I was named Ciel Phantomhive: successor to my father's multibillion Funtom company. From the moment I was born my life had been planned out for me, and nothing less than perfect was expected from a Phantomhive.
By the time his mom heard I was alive and well, I was in the NICU, hooked up to every contraption imaginable. Still, she wanted to help out, so she packed up her bags and took the first flight straight to the hospital. His father was working, and he was dragged along because she refused to leave him with a nanny for too long.
They weren't immediate family, but after putting on some scrubs and coating their hands in sanitizer, they were let in. He was shocked to see me that first time. I was about the size of my mother's hand, with pale, nearly translucent skin, and tubes protruding from my nose. Nevertheless, every time anyone retold me this story, they always said he had this irresistible urge to touch me.
"See, Sebastian?" His mother said, "this little one is Ciel. Can you say Ciel?"
"See elle, see-elle," he crooned. It turns out, my name was his first word.
After that, he refused to leave my side. When visiting hours were over, his mother would have to drag him out of the room. He kicked and screamed until he got home. One time, he even managed to wander out of his crib, and make his way to the hospital (to which his punishment was not being able to see me for a day).
They stayed in town for a while, popping in whenever they could.
On the day we were discharged, his mother was the one who helped us settle back in. Both of them grew so accustomed to having their best friend again, that his mother decided to move back to her hometown. The mansion they left years ago was still under her family name, and since she and her husband worked mostly from home, the transition back was much easier than expected.
Sebastian and I grew up having playdates and attending the same prestigious private school. When I started, my teacher was shocked to see how quickly I learned to read and write. Without much prompting, I had control of motor skills that other children did not. With further testing, they declared I was a prodigy. She spoke to my parents and they decided that I would go straight to first grade when the next school year started. Father pulled some strings and made sure Sebastian and I were in the same class, making it so that we spent most of our time together.
The doctors assured us that besides having asthma and being a little small for my age, I had no major birth defects. For the most part, I was a healthy boy. The only exception was that the last time I participated in a gym class resulted in an asthma attack and several vexing trips to the hospital. After that, I sat out of any strenuous exercise as precaution. Not that I minded too much. I was never forced to dance, and Sebastian normally feigned an injury to keep me company. He was a foot taller than me, could play almost every sport, and wasn't lanky like other kids our age. That, and he could charm himself out of any trouble, so no one ever bothered him about skipping.
My parents were excessively wealthy, and travelled around to keep track of the other Funtom branches. They left me at his house a lot. His parent's didn't mind. More so, they were too focused on their own work to notice me there. Needless to say, Sebastian and I had many opportunities to be as inseparable as we were. We never went through that phase where one child outgrows the other. He was the only person who truly understood me, whose mental capacity matched mine, and he...well I never really knew why, but he chose to stay by my side.
Beyond every definition, he proved to be my best friend. Even when my parents were murdered and I became undeniably difficult to deal with, he stood by me. I never had to ask him to put up with me. He just did. Regrettably, I was unable to return the favor, or even thank him for it. But, when I was in need of someone, Sebastian was always there.
I owe him my life.
It happened years ago, when my house was burned down in the dead of the night. The culprits were never caught, and I scarcely recall what happened, or why it happened. If I'm being honest, I don't really care. Nothing can bring the dead back.
All I remember was that it was nighttime and I woke up to Sebastian carrying me out of my house. We were celebrating my tenth birthday, and he was sleeping over that night. I guess I wasn't waking up, and he knew something was wrong, so he piggy-backed me to safety. On our way out, a curtain pole gave into the fire and flung out of nowhere. He blocked most of it, but a stray chunk got into my eye. I've been blind in my right eye since.
I used to wear a prosthetic eye, but it didn't feel right, and people kept staring, so I started using an eye patch to cover it instead. People still stare, but at least it's more out of intrigue than downright pity. I only take the eyepatch off before I retire or shower. The grotesque feature humiliated me, so I wasn't fond of revealing it to anybody.
Sebastian blamed himself for it, even though he saved me from a more unspeakable fate. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. And it wasn't as if he came out unscathed. His left hand was so severely burned from the deflection that he has a circular scar on the back of it. He used to tell me that our injuries only showed how 'connected' we are, as if that was supposed to make me feel any better.
My parents' will left Sebastian's parents to take care of me, and they gladly took me in when I needed them. Still, I was left with an enormous sum of money, and while they were my rightful guardians, I declined their hospitality, preferring to live in my own mansion. Sebastian's mother agreed to it, saying it was best for me to keep as much normal as I could.
Sebastian and I spent most of our time at my house. He'd make me dinner and sleep in the guest room that we quickly renovated as his own. To be honest, I felt safer when he was there.
At the time, I was too young to inherit the Funtom Company. Much to my irritation, no one took a ten-year old running a business seriously, so it was auctioned off to the highest bidder, who happened to be my father's second cousin, Midford. Thankfully, they kept it alive.
Even so, father was determined to keep the the Funtom company within the Phantomhive bloodline, and specifically stated in his will that I was the rightful owner. He invested a lot of money in contracts to make sure that I would be in charge of the company by the time I turned eighteen. However, the Midfords bought the company rights lawfully, and were willing to raise it as their own during the times I was unable to. So, I made the only deal I could.
Exactly one month after my tenth birthday, I signed a legal contract that sealed my fate. When I turned eighteen, I would marry the Midford's only daughter, and succeed the company that way. I suppose it seems silly now, but it was the only thing I could do to assure my father's wishes for me came true.
Only Sebastian had knowledge of the deal. We often argued about it, but it never occurred to me why.
"Honestly, Ciel, out of all the stupid things," he'd fuss, "you shouldn't marry for money. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"
"It doesn't matter, Sebastian," I'd always reply, "It should be my company, and I will become the CEO by any means necessary."
Aside from that, whenever I did anything related to becoming a successor my father would be proud of, Sebastian always encouraged me. In retrospect, that was around the time I began clinging to him. He guided me to become the person I am today. I needed him. Hell, I still do.
Then there was Elizabeth Midford. We grew up like cousins, seeing each other every now and then. I was never really that close to her, but she was still family. She had the curliest blonde ringlets, pretty hazel eyes, and a warm smile. I knew I was lucky to marry her.
Sebastian never really liked her. He never admitted to it, but I just knew. He had a way of going silent whenever he wasn't fond of someone in our midst. Of course, he would act like a gentleman if ever the three of us were together, but there was something hidden behind that curt smile of his, and I knew him well enough to know it was not affection.
Regardless, she was kind. After my parents died, she came by more often to visit and we got to know each other better. I didn't mind too much, but most of the time she insisted on doing 'cute couple' things that I was not particularly interested in. Sebastian and I texted throughout the day, and he did the miscellaneous things I needed done.
Make no mistake, Lizzie was not more invested in our relationship than I was. I just wasn't the type to sit around and watch six hours worth of romance movies when there were more pressing things I could be doing.
Sometimes I wish I paid more attention to Sebastian's subtleties. But how was I supposed to catch all his musings when he was so evasive? You know, it scares that if things didn't play out a certain way, I would have gone my whole life not knowing.
. . .
It was the evening of my eighteenth birthday and I was holding a party to celebrate. There, I proposed to Lizzie. Everyone knew it was going to happen soon, but only Sebastian had knowledge it would be that night.
During a second toast, I noticed he disappeared from the party. I asked around, but no one knew where he went. So I excused myself, knowing very well where he would be.
I went to my room to see him hiding there, idly reading the The Great Gatsby. He didn't have to look up to know it was me.
"Gatsby's a pitiful fellow, isn't he?" he wondered aloud. He was sitting on the floor next to my work desk, suit jacket hanging on the back of the chair, and his jet black hair caressing his cheeks. I sat down on my bed right in front of him, undoing the necktie Lizzie gave me.
"What do you mean?" I rolled my eyes as I lazily shrugged off my jacket and let it slump to the ground.
"He spends his life dedicated to someone who doesn't seem to understand him, someone who marries out of money and can't possibly love him back," he spat in what I could only decipher as contempt.
How odd. It was unlike him to be so worked up. If ever he was infuriated, he plastered a smile on his face and shook things off in a dignified nature. It was one of the many things I admired about him. He was always so cool when it came to anything, so unlike my impatient self.
"What are you going off about?"
"It doesn't matter." He flipped to the next page.
"Sebastian, it's obviously something if you're upset by it." Why was he being so difficult?
Finally, he put the book down. Ah, there it was: that unreadable smirk. He knew how much that stupid smile irritated me, so I chucked a pillow at him. He caught it in time, shooting me a disapproving look.
"I said it was nothing."
"Then why have you been so off lately?" I raised an eyebrow, knowing I had him in check.
He however, would not allow me to win.
"I'm not," he flashed another, more convincing grin. "Now why don't you head on back to your party? It's improper for the host to hide from his guests, you know."
"And since when is it proper for a guest to sneak into their host's room?"
"You're missing out of the festivities downstairs, Ciel, and I bet you anything that Elizabeth has been searching for you the moment you left her peripheral vision."
There was no doubt in my mind she was doing exactly that, but how could I leave Sebastian in such a state? He's never been so annoyed at me, never kept anything from me.
"Enough with your crypticness."
"Telling you will not change anything." He tried to mask the hint of resignation in his tone as he returned to the novel.
"Sebastian," I insisted, pushing the book down on his lap so he would talk to me. He smiled again, pressed his palms together, and sarcastically asked,
"I'm sorry, did you want something?" I glared at him until he sighed, ran his long fingers through his hair and looked me in the eye with the utmost intensity.
"I don't know what you want from me, Ciel. You shouldn't be marrying Lizzie if you aren't in love with her. Is that what you want to hear? It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you."
"What? Of course I love Lizzie!" I lied, but even I was not convinced. How could he know that, when I had troubles enough admitting it to myself?
"And besides, even if I didn't love her, it's got nothing to do with you."
"Nothing to... nothing to do with me?" He laughed a bewildered, throaty laugh. "Are you kidding me? It's got everything to do with me! You are my best friend-"
"Cut the crap, Sebastian," my eyes narrowed. "What is it you're not telling me?"
"Nothing," he dismissed a little too defensively, picking up the book and continuing where he left off. Irritated, I yanked the paperback out of his hands and returned to my original spot.
"Now you're just lying."
"For fuck's sake, Ciel!" I winced at his swearing as he glowered at me. Sebastian rarely lost his temper, and had never raised his voice at me. He only cursed if he was truly upset, but even then, he refrained from using those terms. Those filthy words were beneath him, and did not suit the elegance he naturally carried.
"I don't care anymore!"
"Sebastian," I started, standing up and placing the book on the table before turning to him again. If he wanted a screaming match, I would give him one, and make sure I wouldn't lose.
"YOU KNOW I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE LIE TO-"
Swiftly he stood up, his tremendous body exerting an inhuman poise I could never muster. I held my ground, feeling more insignificant beside him by the second. Apparently I hadn't grown much since we were children because he still towered over me.
"I love you," he interrupted, examining my reaction. I stopped myself, my mind trying to absorb what he was saying. Did I hear him correctly?
"You, what?"
"I am in love with you," he repeated assuredly, his gaze meeting my blank stare. Internally he cursed himself for letting it slip, but it was too late to take it back now. His hands hovered above my shoulders, and I ducked my head to hide the redness of my own cheeks.
Giving me a weaker, despondent smile, his voice softened when he said,
"You can't marry her because you're not in love with her."
"You're kidding, right?" I asked, my words sounding more spiteful than I intended. The note cut right through him, his handsome features morphing into chagrin.
"No," he stated, "I'm not. Now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed past me and retrieved his jacket. He was already at the door when I finally found my voice again.
"Wait, Sebastian," I stopped him, grabbing on to his suit.
"I don't know what kind of joke this is supposed to be but..."
"It's not a joke, Ciel," he turned back at me. "For once in your life just... arrgh." I couldn't fathom the dejection in his eyes. My insensitivity was breaking him.
His brows furrowed, as if there were so many things he wanted to say, but couldn't find a way to form them.
"I have always, always loved you. And I know you. I know you love me too. Apparently you're just too stubborn to see that."
Just like that, he left.
. . .
I didn't get a chance to speak to him for a while after that. We were both busy with work, and whenever we were together, we were never really alone. Sebastian pretended like nothing happened, and I tried to do the same. There was no time to discuss things, or so I told myself.
During those weeks, I have never felt so alone.
He started coming over to make me meals when he knew I would not home, and began replying in simplistic texts, making sure his messages betrayed no ounce of emotion. Even on the rare occasion I bumped into him on campus, he no longer stopped to chat, or flash me a smile, and while he wasn't fully ignoring me, the way he looked at me was the same way he regarded any other person.
Yes, I think the worst part was feeling like I didn't mean anything to him anymore.
Even so, he was being unreasonable. Who in the world would believe he was in love with me upon first hearing it?
Sebastian, my Sebastian, was in love with another male? The strong willed ladies' man Sebastian who beat up anyone who crossed me, and scoffed at things involving affection, cared for me? Hell, he even had the gall to tell me I was in love with him! Ridiculous. What is one supposed to do after hearing something like that?
I've known him since I was four days old, and had no inkling he harbored any of those feelings for me. To me, it felt like I didn't know him anymore, like the person in front of me wasn't the Sebastian I've known all along.
Nevertheless he was. He was the Sebastian who saved my life, the one who panicked when I had my first asthma attack, and taught me how to ride horses, and fixed up all my scrapes, and made me milk and honey when I was sick. It wasn't that this was a different Sebastian. Being in love with me doesn't change who he is. It was that I knew so little about the person I valued most in my life.
That's what had me re-evaluating everything I had come to know. There must have been a reason why, although most people found Lizzie extremely attractive, I could only acknowledge the fact. I just thought we were together for so long that it was hard to see her as anything more than just Lizzie.
Also, wasn't it odd that when I didn't see her for a while, I almost felt relieved? I needed constant time away from her, else I'd meet with meek irritation. When she wasn't there, I didn't have to keep up pretenses, and it made room for me to spend more time with Sebastian.
If you compared that to the anxiety I felt when Sebastian and I were apart for too long...it was completely nonpareil.
The nights when we weren't talking, I deliberated it. I stayed awake until the early hours of dawn, losing many nights worth of sleep thinking. Then, when he had finally forgiven me, started smiling around me again, it didn't seem too ridiculous that I felt the same way about him.
Still, it seemed wrong. Like acknowledging it somehow meant betraying my own family, straying from them and my final goal.
I knew my intentions for marrying Lizzie were wrong, but I was already in too deep. There were several contracts I all too willingly signed, and while normally no one would take into account the signature of a child, in these conditions, there were absolutely no ways around them.
My whole life I worked for the moment I would be head of the Funtom Company and reclaim everything my father left behind. He knew it was important. He knew this was the only way I could fulfill my dreams and keep my father's memory, his name, alive within me. I had to marry Lizzie. That was expected from me. Those were my priorities.
In any case, Lizzie mattered to me as well. Despite her childish demeanor, I knew she loved me more than anything. She looked forward to marrying me even before we graduated grade school. To leave her now, after all this time, would destroy her and wage a war between our families. This wasn't some measly little schoolyard break up. Besides, I could eventually fall in love with her. Stories like that weren't unheard of. So what if I wasn't crazy about her now? I had the rest of my life to do that.
Lizzie and I got married on June 21 of this year. It would have been earlier, if I didn't keep trying to push it off. It was extravagant and a lot more pink than I was expecting. I tried to stay out of the wedding plans, agreeing to almost everything just to pacify her. She was so excited she had everything planned in the span of three months.
I opted out of a bachelor party. It seemed like a horrid idea, and I wasn't really one to drink. Alcohol tasted too bitter, and I didn't like the idea of losing control of my own mind, which was a thought both Sebastian and I shared.
Saying my vows was an elaborate lie. Sebastian stood statuesque behind me as my best man, the way he always had. Knowing he was there made it a little harder for me to say 'I do'.
In that heavily incensed church, I stood in my tuxedo beside the love of my life. Unfortunately, I did not marry him that day.
The moment the priest spoke directly to the crowd and asked them to 'speak now', I half expected him to say something. He didn't. Respecting my decision to marry, he put up a strong front, kept silent, delivered a halfhearted speech at the reception, and slipped out of my life for exactly twenty five weeks. I didn't stop him. More like, I couldn't.
As soon as our honeymoon was over, I dove into paperwork and avoided everyone. Blending in, I became the perfect businessman, and a mere thirteen days later, the rights of the Funtom Company were officially signed off to me.
Every day Sebastian wasn't in my life was a constant reminder of how much I needed him. Distracting myself with other things was the only way I could get him out of my head.
His absence only drove me more insane. The spark I thought was the extent of my feelings for him ignited, bursting into a roaring, untamed fire.
The lines between rigid reality and my lucid dreams of us distorted into nightmares that mocked me. His haunting figure came to me in my sleep and took me far away from this life that held no moment of rest. There, we were together. There, we would always be together. The temptation to rest within those moments were difficult to extinguish.
My life with Lizzie was deceitful, and I found myself wanting to beg her forgiveness every time she showed me kindness. Despite my inherited workaholic nature, she still loved me. On days I was short tempered, she was patient with me. The seemingly endless nights I was lonely, she gave me affection. As only a spouse could, she went out of her way to keep me happy. Sex was brief, and dissatisfying for me, and though it rarely happened, she did not press me for more.
Though she would admit it to no one, not even herself, she knew I was unhappy. It crushed her. For, what more could she give the one she devoted her life to? What more could she do to please the one she loved? When I saw what I was doing to the both of us, it only drained me more. To make myself suffer was one thing. To make Lizzie miserable was another sin itself.
Truth be told, I did grow to love Elizabeth. It just wasn't the way I loved Sebastian.
. . .
After almost six months of marriage, Lizzie began worrying I was working too hard. She decided one day to call Sebastian without informing me, telling him to take me out for a little birthday celebration.
We were to have a boys night out like old times, and he was to show me some fun (but not too much fun, she warned). I wasn't even aware he was in town, and was hesitant at first, but she insisted. Maybe, I foolishly thought, I could get rid of my feelings for him if I saw him again. That way, Lizzie and I might stand a better chance.
Two nights before my birthday, I gave Lizzie a peck on the cheek, murmured "you're the best," and went off to meet Sebastian at a bar.
I almost forgot how handsome he really was until I saw him again in his half done up ebony blazer, sitting in a private booth waiting for me.
"Long time no see," he greeted as he called me over and sat me down. It dawned on me that it had been too long since I last saw him. His slick black hair had grown a little longer, the curve of his smile a little more devilish. People gawked at us, I felt their eyes boring into me as we caught up with each other's lives. They probably weren't used to seeing someone styling an eye patch, especially not a boy inhabiting a bar with a gorgeous gentleman. I found myself almost embarrassed being with him, paling in comparison, but then decided I didn't care.
A second and a half was all it took to warm up to each other again. In those precise milliseconds, it was almost like nothing had ever come between us. We began speaking the way we used to, and laughing the way we did. Everything was suddenly better, like his presence was all I needed to feel happier than I had been in forever.
My plan to release him from my mind was failing. He was like the drink in my hand. The more I supped, the more intoxicated I became. Each second I found myself surrendering to my absolute fondness for the man before me.
Sebastian mostly watched me, telling me his impeccable driving would be hindered if he consumed too much.
When he deemed me too drunk, I heard him call Lizzie and tell her that I'd be spending the night at his house. No other girls, he promised.
Sebastian drove us to his new apartment that night. It was lavish to say the least, like it came straight out of a Homes and Gardens magazine. I blacked out a bit in the passenger's seat, his alluring scent too soothing. He managed to carry me into a guest bedroom and gently place me on the bed.
"Hm, Sebastian..." I mumbled, slowly gaining alertness, "stay..."
He made no reply. Instead, he undressed me, removing my eyepatch, and replacing my clothes with one of his spare shirts he used to sleep in. He drew the blankets to my chin and turned towards the door.
"Wait," I protested, grabbing on to his sleeve.
"Get some rest, Ciel."
"I can't," I protested.
"No?"
"I want to... I want to talk to you. I'm wasted, but not that wasted. And I want to know...do you... still...?"
"It's late," he sighed. "And I haven't taken an order from you since you were thirteen. We can talk in the morning. I'll be in my room. Call me if you need anything."
I watched his back as he walked away, briskly turn off the lights, and go into his room. I heard him remove his shirt and trousers, the creak of his mattress as he mounted his bed, and then, nothing.
Waiting in the darkness, I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't leave it at just that. Knowing he was in the other room, so close to me, made the alcohol sear through my veins. There was an unknown feeling stirring in my chest that craved to be with him more.
Hurriedly, before I lost my resolve, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom, but instead of returning to the guest room, I took a detour.
"Sebastian?" I called. He didn't stir, so I tiptoed to his bedpost and sat down on the edge of his bed.
"I know you're still awake."
He gruffly sat up. "Did you need something?"
"I want to talk..." I trailed again. He stared at me in the dark, and in my determination, I stared right back.
"What is it you wish to speak about?"
I thought about what I wanted to tell him, but the words were lost on me, my thoughts far from coherent. There were so many things I needed to say to him: how much I missed him, how I loved him, and how sorry I was for that night, but all I managed to say was,
"You were right..."
In the room where the moon's glow was the only source of light, I could see his confusion-turned knowing.
"But I married her anyway."
"But you married her anyway," he repeated, shaking his head.
The room was getting quieter as he remained silent. It dawned on me that I was being presumptuous, idiotic even. See, I had secretly told him I loved him, my statement a confession on its own, even without knowing if he felt the same.
"Do you...still...?" love me, I wanted to ask, but I could only manage to look down on his sheets.
I heard him sigh.
Of course, of course, of course. I mentally cursed myself. I was too late, wasn't I? The last time we met like this, I rejected him, married someone else in spite of his feelings, and freely casted him out of my life. How could he forgive me for doing something like that? Who would still love someone who trampled all over their feelings?
Finally, he lifted his hand up and grabbed my wrist, forcefully pulling me into him. The feeling in my chest spurred as my cheeks grew hotter. I squirmed under his burly arms, but he wouldn't let go.
"Does that mean yes?"
He gaffed, his laugh vibrating through my whole body.
"You were always a slow one," he teased, and only laughed harder when I told him to shut up.
As we layed there together, that feeling I felt earlier returned. I just couldn't control it. I had to...I had to touch him more.
I gently pushed him off. This time, he did not stop me.
"Sorry," he apologized, and if it weren't for the dark, I could have sworn his cheeks were also dusted with a shade of pink.
Taken aback by his embarrassment, I found myself falling in love again, this time, with this side of him I had never seen before. Suddenly he was all too close, the warmth of his breath fanning across my face.
I wanted to kiss him...
Leaning in, I growled when I missed my target: touching only the corner of his mouth. He looked at me in brief bewilderment before chuckling. Cupping my cheek, he ran his thumb over the eyelid of my fake eye, prodding me to reveal it.
"See?" he whispered, as I opened it, "We are connected...always, always connected."
He stroked under the unsightly eye while guiding me to his lips.
They crashed together with sheer intensity, molding into the tenderness of the other. He deepened the kiss, expertly slipping his tongue into my mouth. Exploring each other, we battled for the dominance neither was willing to give. He nipped and licked at my lower lip, and I suppressed a moan when he released it.
But I was not yet satisfied. I wanted more, a need consuming my mind so absolutely that I don't remember the exact moment I found myself on his thighs.
His hands wrapped my waist, pulling me into him. Our heated needs rubbed against each other, his panting driving me closer to the edge, forcing me to grind harder in search for more friction. The fabric of our clothing was getting in the way of that delightful, delightful, heat, and my hands traced his abdomen, lowering to fix the problem.
"Ciel," he firmly grabbed my hands and moved them away from the string of his boxers.
"I want you," I confessed, feeling more heat rush to my face as I dipped in for another kiss.
"You are very drunk."
"I'm not," I swore, shaking my head adamantly. "I might have drank a little more than I should have, but I promise I am thinking clearly."
He caressed my cheek, and kissed me on the forehead, the nose, and over my eyelids.
"No." he refused calmly. I felt my face twist into a mortified frown.
"If you don't want me, that's fine." I huffed, trying to slide off him. The slump of his rejection formed at the pit of my stomach, but I did well to make sure he didn't see it.
"Don't be silly, or course I do," he reassured me, gripping tighter around my waist and kissing me on the forehead.
"Then why won't you do anything?"
"If I can smell the liquor on your breath, it means you're not fully aware of what you're doing. Besides, I don't think you're…ready yet..."
I almost laughed at his sudden surge of morality. After all this time, he still cherished me in a way I did not deserve. He wouldn't take advantage of me even when I was eagerly offering. Just when I thought I couldn't love him any more than I did, he proved me wrong.
We fell back into silence with me positioned on his chest. Time was our only enemy, now, as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders, and intertwined our free hands. I pressed the palm of my hand against his, remarking how much larger his was, and traced the skin of his scarred hand. The difference in colour reminded me how unkind I was to him in the past.
Why do you love me? I found myself wondering, but the words lay unspoken, for fear of the answer.
I won't disclose what we talked about that night, the contents remaining something of a secret between us. All I will say is that we drifted to sleep, and for the first time I didn't want those vivid dreams. For once in my life, my reality surpassed anything I could ever imagine.
. . .
The next day I was shocked to wake up free of a headache.
We were still on his bed, in the same position we fell asleep. I woke up to the mellifluous sound of his heartbeat, the rising and falling of his own tranquil breathing.
I felt the shame wash over me. I didn't really say the things I said last night, did I? But no, I didn't regret it. I did not feel sorry about the way our lips met with the fiery passion I couldn't imagine with anyone else.
Neither of us were willing to leave the comfort of each other's arms. I sighed as I nestled myself into him, taking in his chocolate scented skin. His slender fingers ran through my hair, and I felt feather-light kisses on top of my head, and brushing against my fingertips. We soaked up each other's love like distant lovers after a long separation. I closed my eyes and lapped in the quietude of the morning.
The ear-splitting sound of my cellphone blasting in the other room brought me back to this godforsaken life.
"That's Lizzie, isn't it?"
He didn't need to ask, he knew from that special ringtone she chose for herself that she was texting me.
Oh Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. I'm so sorry. Lizzie my intended, the one I was supposed to be with, the one I married, the one who was so good to me. How could I betray her like this?
The last note rang and I sobered up. Hurriedly dressing myself, I hustled out of the room, ready to run to her. But, what did I plan to do after that?
Sebastian delicately sat himself up and followed me to grab my eyepatch and cellphone. He saw my worry and voiced his own concern.
"What are you going to tell her?"
"What do you mean?"
He paused, immersing himself in his thoughts before bitterly saying, "You weren't going to say anything, were you?"
It was more of a statement than a question, and I shook my head not knowing how to respond.
"I didn't plan this..." I bit my tongue before I finished, cursing myself for my thoughtless remark. Almost having sex and falling deeper in love with my male best friend never crossed my mind, and neither was telling Elizabeth that I did not love her. No, I did not plan this. It just happened.
The wounded look he gave me would be one to haunt me forever. His ravishing face curved into the epitome of disappointment. They would not stay like that, though. A colder, more uncaring mask quickly replaced the tormented fragility.
"You don't know how many times I tried involving myself with other people, Ciel. I don't think you understand how I could do nothing with those people because every time your face kept appearing." I winced when I pictured Sebastian with someone else, a fleeting envy boiling in my chest.
"These feelings, they won't go away, Ciel. Don't you see? I can't love anyone the way I love you. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"What do you suppose I do? Leave her? Leave Lizzie? I can't," I reasoned, "you know that..."
"It isn't a matter of can't, it's a matter of won't. Are you so self-righteous that you can't see what's right in front of you?"
By then, maybe I was too prideful to admit he was right. After all, it wasn't that I didn't want to hurt Lizzie, it was that being with him frightened me in a way I cannot explain.
Though he did not raise his voice, his accusing tone made me angry, and I retaliated instead of apologized like I should have.
"What do you want? For us to run away together? I can't do that. I have the company to run," I spat at him. Oh, if only I could take my selfish words back, my desperate, greedy excuses. How could I willingly do this to him again?
"I alone have enough money to support us both, so much that we could live comfortably without needing a steady income."
"I can't just divorce her without a second thought. I need to...to plan things, cover some things up first..."
"Well, what am I supposed to do while you do that? Share you with her? Is that it? You expect me to wait here until you get frustrated with her and come back to me?"
"No-" I managed to refute.
"Then what? Were you planning not to see me again?" He demanded, but before I could answer, posed a second question.
"Do you love me, Ciel?" He said in a way that doubted my affection for him. I wanted to say yes, that he was the only one I could ever love, but I could not bring myself to say it. My unwillingness only destroyed him more.
I had had enough of this interrogation. I needed some time alone to process everything, something he wasn't giving me an opportunity to do.
"Don't fool yourself into thinking you don't. I know you better than anyone else. Better than myself. You'd be lying to yourself if you think last night meant nothing to you."
Without accepting or denying it, we were already standing in the entrance of his apartment.
"Just give me some time to think, okay?" I told him. "I'll figure something out and we can discuss this then. If you love me, you'll leave it at that for now."
Stopping for his reply, I looked back at him. He smiled brilliantly, but the kindness did not reach his eyes.
"There is no 'if', Ciel. There will never be an 'if'."
. . .
I went on with the rest of my busy schedule. First, I called Lizzie to assure her everything was fine, that I'd stop by to have a change of clothes, and that I would probably be late tonight so she shouldn't bother waiting for me. Then, I locked myself up in my office.
That was my most unproductive day at work. I was drowning in files to read and contracts to sign, and I tried to focus on the tasks at hand, but I couldn't. My meetings seemed to drone on, and the incessant chatter of my employees sounded like unnecessary background noise in the theatre of my mind.
The distraught man I left earlier was all I could think about. My thoughts seemed to wander, and I had to grip the edge of my desk to physically stop myself from sending everyone home just so I could go see him. Never in my time with Lizzie did I have this feeling, did I worry about how she was doing, or have the urgency to see her whenever I could.
Sebastian was right. I had to end my marriage.
I tried texting him in between the rare coffee break, but he didn't reply. I wanted to call him, to tell him I was sorry and what I was going to do, but I wanted to do it in person. I wanted it to be just the two of us, the way it was last night.
By the time I checked the clock, it was almost two in the morning.
Strangely, my timing was on point. The moment I looked up from the page, I saw my cellphone blinking, telling me someone was calling me. I quickly picked it up, noted I put it on silent, and saw that I had two missed calls from Sebastian. I answered it, a bundle of nerves fluttering about.
"Sebastian? Where are you? Are you busy right now? There's something I have to tell you." There was a long silence, and an unfamiliar, raspy voice replied,
"Is this Ciel Phantomhive?" I checked the caller ID before replying. It was an unknown number.
"Yes. Now...who is this?"
"Mr. Phantomhive this is Constable John from the Hertfordshire Constabulary...I'm very sorry to have to inform you like this, sir, but there's been an accident and Sebastian didn't...he didn't make it."
Constable John told me he was drunkenly driving somewhere when he sped into an intersection, causing a head on collision with another vehicle. He was gone when help arrived, and was pronounced dead at 1:11 a.m. on December 14. I was listed as his emergency contact.
When I heard he was under the influence, I was almost certain it wasn't him. Sebastian didn't drink. He would never do anything to impair his driving. When I calmed down, the guy in the other end was apologetic, said he couldn't understand what I was going through, but that it was unmistakably Sebastian Michaelis.
I don't know what I did after that. I think I expressed my thanks and went over to identify his body. His parents met me there, his mother hugging me when she saw me. Her eyes were puffed up and her voice was coarse when she mournfully told me it was him.
The events that transpired immediately after that come in blurred bits. One moment I was at his wake, holding his cold hand and begging him to come back to me, the next they were lowering him in the ground and I was watching them throw dirt on his coffin.
Sebastian died four days ago.
Even as I write this, I can't bring myself to shed a tear. Instead, I've inhaled copious amounts of alcohol, the bitterness becoming a comfort to me.
Lizzie's been trying to take care of me. She forced me to take a vacation, and has tried countless times to get me out of bed. So far, the farthest I think I've gotten is to my living room, before I collapsed on the floor. I can't even summon enough energy to act normal around her.
My mind has been vacant for the past few days. I find myself staring at things for hours on end until Lizzie comes to make me eat. She's been acting sympathetic, but I think she's getting tired of my behavior.
There isn't a cure to the numbness I feel. The last time I felt like this was when I lost my parents, but back then, Sebastian was there. He was the one who brought me back from the dead. I owe him my life...but that life means nothing without him.
This morning, Lizzie suggested I go outside, but I didn't have the motivation. I tried meeting her half way and glanced at my cellphone to see if work needed me. Instead, I saw a little notice saying I had two messages from Sebastian. Hesitantly, I listened to the first one.
"Oh, yeah, hey..." was his breathy voice on the other end. Clearly, he had slipped a drink, but why? Sebastian only drank on special occasions, and he wouldn't drive if he knew he had too much. He was careful that way. Where was he headed that was so important he couldn't wait until he was sober?
"Sorry... I didn't answer your texts. I couldn't...think. I'm sorry for earlier. I know I wasn't being fair, and I was only thinking about myself, but I just got you back into my life, Ciel. How could I possibly let you out of it a second time?"
A beep cut him off, and I realized I was holding my breath the entire time. Hearing his voice again was bittersweet destruction: I wanted to keep listening to it, but the more I did, the more I was reminded he was gone.
I saved it and summoned the courage to play the next one.
"...Ciel, I'll be over in a few minutes, yeah? I need to see you... I need to... Looook, I know we agreed to talk about it later, and I know you're not going to leave her, but…I can't help myself. I still love you. I don't know what it is about you, but no matter how hard I try, I always find myself coming back to you because I love you….and I need you..."
This time, he had accidentally hung up early. I looked at the time of his last call. 12:52 am. But that was...
Oh. Oh.
He didn't know I was choosing him. I didn't get the chance to tell him I was going to leave her because he never answered my texts. Sebastian was drinking because he thought I didn't love him! He drank his sorrows away until he was out of his mind and wanted to see me. He called me moments before he got into his car and drove to my house. He was coming for me. He died because of me.
I killed Sebastian. It was my fault he was dead. If I caught his first message, or called to make sure he was okay, or stayed with him that day, or told him that I loved him, or if I wasn't so damn stubborn, then none of this would… then he would still be...
If, if, if.
If only tears were enough to bring him back.
Those messages were replayed a thousand times. It started off as a way to hear his silken voice, and listen to him say he loved me, because I knew I would never get another chance. The last few times, though, I've been playing it as punishment.
I tried...I really tried, but everything reminds me of him. That last, disappointed look he gave me is everywhere I turn, and it is he who comes to visits me when I close my eyes. But it's a comfort seeing him there... It keeps me from forgetting that I was too afraid to choose Sebastian and the happiness he could have given me. I did this to us.
Without realizing it, I hurt so many people and made a mess of things. I strutted about like Midas, except everything I touched was smashed and obliterated to pieces.
That's why I have to do it. You understand, don't you? I've spent my whole life with him, knowing he would always be there for me, but now that he's not...how am I supposed to...how could I possibly exist if he doesn't?
We are connected, you see. Our lives were not meant for these unhappy tidings. We were intended to live and be happy and soak in each other's love until the world claimed us. I was supposed to receive more time with him, to learn more ways to fall for him, to declare my love for him as many times as he wanted, and to have him say the same. We were expected to wake up blissfully to the sound of each other's breathing, to whisper sweet-nothings to one another like every clichéd movie, and to embrace each other like the proper lovers we never got to be.
So, whoever you are, learn from me. I chose to contemplate my 'if' lives, instead of resolving the problems I could have easily fixed, and as a result of my careless indecisions, I lost someone utterly irreplaceable.
Please understand. I'm begging you now, though I don't need your approval. I can't. I just can't.
If living means I cannot be with him, then I would gladly part with my own life.
Sincerely,
Ciel Phantomhive