A/N: this is the first writing in a long while, so bear with me. the fiction is loosely based on the affects of sound, and I took the first line and the title from the Mayday Parade song that shares the same title. I do not own that or Kuroshitsuji. I do not get monetary gain from this.

I fell into pieces—

Your eyes flinch as Sebastian opens the curtains to welcome the silent cascade of light.

"Master, I have prepared some chamomile tea for you this morning, lightened with some mint."

You rub your eyes with a fisted hand, nodding a silent acquiesce. You wait in a sleepy, though not necessarily unguarded, haze, listening to the calming sound of Sebastian pouring tea into a cup over the sound of your heavily beating heart.

Despite yourself, you touch your thumb and fingers together to run across the cool surface of the collar that chokes you so.

Sebastian appears with your morning tea, and you take it, letting go of the large gem.

It's a calming tea. The only, if not irritating, quality that having a demon in your house (besides the obvious and rather creepy stalker attitude Sebastian has towards you) is that it can tell when you're afraid.

Ciel Phantomhive does not show that to anyone. You're no child.

"Sir Raoul of the Queen's Knights is making a visit today. You have violin and piano lessons at the respective times of…" Sebastian's voice melts into the relatively calm and typical morning. It has an infuriating lilt into it every time he speaks, but the low tone is pleasant. At least it isn't as high-pitched as Lizzy's.

Patiently, you sip your tea as he goes over your schedule. Then, as if like clockwork, you finish your tea as he finishes your schedule. Both of you simultaneously move towards the edge of your bed, him ready with a pair of fresh clothes (them neither too distinguished nor plain) smelling faintly of fresh linen.

You have always had an uncanny interest in Sebastian when he dressed you. A demon, yes he is. Though you've gotten used to the perfect gentlemanliness (you scoff) of his butler façade, you wonder, every time he buttons up your shirts and slips on your vests and puts on that eyepatch if you will be eaten that day, purely derived from the fact that Sebastian is a demon.

He smooths out your vest with a fascinated shuffle, as if you're some masterpiece. He steps back, and you walk out of the room with him a step behind.

You find with a hint of self-loathing that your arriviste steps combined with his sound like companionship.