Hello, darling readers. You can than Sebasuchanskitten for this update. The reviews I have received from this author inspired me to finish this chapter and get it up tonight. You can show them all your love by reading some of the amazing stories they've written. But first, I hope you enjoy the second installment of BsR. I hope you enjoy Ciel's audition. Constructive criticism is always welcome! Enjoy, darlings~

Warnings: Vulgar language, offensive slang/slurs.

Backstage Romantics

Act II

The bedroom in Ciel's apartment was quite small; there was barely any room for his full sized bed and oak dresser. The walls were freshly painted a soft navy, wispy clouds sporadically decorating them. The ceiling was covered in silvery stars, both painted and glow-in-the-dark plastic pieces stuck on at random. A few stars had been placed higher up on the walls, the room mimicking a barely cloudy night sky. Ciel had always loved the night, found solace and comfort in the peaceful twinkling of stars and the beauty of a cresent moon; it always had a calming effect on him. However, now, it seemed, that nothing would calm the storm brewing within the dainty male.

While the room had normally been kept fairly neat in his month of living there, it currently looked as though a tornado had hit. Clothes were strewn about without a care, crumpled up in random spots on the floor. The full size bed had a heaping mountain of clothing, which grew as more and more articles were rejected by the owner. The dresser drawers were pulled askew, underwear, socks, and pants hanging limply from them. On top of the dresser laid a pair of red pajama bottoms, faded and holey from the wear and tear of overuse. Yellow stars decorated them, with the phrase 'who's your daddy?' scrawled on them, the letters a bold red. As more articles of clothing flew threw the air and landed farther and farther from the bed the more frantic the tossing of them was, a pitiful whine pierced the air.

"Nn fuck!" A shout echoed around the small bedroom. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Ciel moaned, balling up another shirt and tossing it away. "What do I even wear to this audition?!" Panicked royal blue eyes glanced at a digital clock sitting on a bedside table, spurring the male into a more frenzied state. His nerves were on edge, and he turned away from the clock, chewing harshly on his bottom lip, which was already red from abuse. He only had two more hours and counting until the auditions took place, and he still had no idea what to wear. "What is considered appropriate? Fuck, I never had to worry like this with school plays." Another whine of frustration rose in his throat as he dug through a box labelled "clothing" in flowing handwriting. His hands grazed the soft fabric of a pair of slacks, and he paused. "Nothing too formal; a tux wouldn't do. But too casual and they'd think I don't take this seriously... Hff." He sighed, willing himself to relax. He lifted the slacks from the box, resting them on his crossed legs. He pulled the box's lip, tilting it down so his eyes could better scan it's contents. Digging through the folded pile and further mussing it up, he finally found what he was looking for: a dark blue button up cotton dress shirt. Scrambling to his feet, he sprinted over to another box, taking his finds with him. Opening the newly acquired box, labeled "vests", he began searching for the only dressy vest he owned. Passing several of his "faggy nerd" vests, as Alois so adoringly called them, his fingers finally found what he sought. He removed it from the box and blew out a sigh of relief.

Quickly stripping out of his sweatpants and wifebeater, he tugged the slacks up his slim, porcelain legs and buttoned them swiftly. Next came the shirt, which he inspected for creases; deeming the fabric crease-free, he slipped the long sleeves over his arms and adjusted the shirt before fumbling with the buttons. A tiny growl from low in his chest rose to his throat, his frustration with buttons increasing tenfold because of his nervousness.

"I fucking hate buttons. If I never have to see another goddamned button in my life, I would not be disappointed," he grumbled to himself, finally slipping the last button into it's corresponding hole. The shirt was short, and if he lifted his arms, it would ride up and give a glimpse of his creamy flesh. On came the black vest, even shorter than the dress shirt, and he pushed the three silver buttons through their holes before running his hands down his front to smooth out his clothing. It clung to his body, showing off his slender waist and barely leaving anything to one's imagination. "Now, to find a belt..." he turned, taking one step before yelping, his foot coming up off of whatever he stepped on. He clutched his wounded appendage and glared down at the ground. "Damn, blast, and-Ah, a belt!" his anger melting into pleasant surprise as he spotted the offending object, his search over before it had begun. He yanked the belt up and pulled it through the loops in his slacks, pausing and chewing his bottom lip in indecision. He looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror that hanged on the back of his bedroom door, eyebrows wrinkling in thought. He quickly attempted to tuck in his shirt, grimacing as he realised it was too short to be properly tucked. "Untucked it is," he said to his reflection and clasped the belt. Reaching into one of the yanked out drawers, he grabbed a pair of navy socks and made his way over to his closet, avoiding stepping on any of the piles to make sure he didn't injure his foot further. There might be legos or something hiding under all these clothes... Once in front of the closet, he opened the faux-wood door and glanced down, spotting his only nice dress shoes easily. Picking those up, he shut the door and practically pranced out of the room, narrowly avoiding the drawers of his dresser.

With the task of dressing himself over and done with, his anxiety began to loosen it's hold on his chest. Ciel plopped down onto the couch and pulled his socks on before slipping dainty feet into the black leather shoes. He silently thanked whatever gods there were for his parents choosing shoes that required no lacing; it was one less thing he had to fuck up in his frantic rushing. At the time they were purchased, he had complained about them being slip ons. "I'm not a child, I know how to tie fucking shoes." He was grateful that they had ignored his complaining and bought them regardless of his demands. Standing up, he shoved his phone into his back pocket, along with his wallet. He stood on tiptoe to remove his peacoat from the coat rack and slid it on. Buttoning all but two buttons and cinching the tie around his waist, he snagged his keys and left his apartment, running through a mental checklist.

I'm wearing underwear, I haven't forgotten to put on pants; I've got my phone and wallet tucked safely away in my ass pocket; I'm freshly showered and my teeth have been brushed. I have my keys in hand, and I'm looking dashing and-dare I say-sexy as fuck. They have already received my resume, so I don't have to bring it with me. I've selected and memorised the scene that I want to perform in the audition. Once satisfied with all of his requirements being checked off, he locked his door and began walking down the stairs, slipping a cigarette between his lips. "Now I just have to find the blasted place."

There was only one word to describe how Ciel felt while sitting in the waiting room of the fancy building: nervous. His anxiety was only made worse when he saw the 10 or so other males auditioning for the same part; they were all exceptionally handsome, most likely with more experience than he could fathom. All of them were taller than he, as he only stood at a whopping 4 foot 11 inches. He had always cursed his height, as it led to being called cute and childlike, much to his distate. For once, however, he was actually thankful for his short stature; the part he was auditioning for was a 13 year old Earl, and frankly, 13 year olds aren't extremely tall. Yeah well, they generally don't have the height of a 9 year old either, his anxious brain added snarkily. Shaking those negative thoughts away, he silently told his brain in which direction it could fuck.

His blue eyes darted around and oggled the faces of his opponents. Fuck, look at him... He's so hot, I would totally fuck him. I wonder if he's gay, he thought idly, before scolding himself. The men here weren't to be flirted with or seduced; they were the enemy, the only things standing in the way of his chance at stardom.

Cold sweat beaded on Ciel's forehead, nerves coiling in his stomach uncomfortably. He chewed his bottom lip and slipped his peacoat off before rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows. He sighed and shifted his weight before leaning back, continuing to worry his lip between his teeth. 10 pairs of eyes turned to him, interest sparking in them; Ciel was no longer paying attention to the others, his eyes lidded and staring blankly up at the ceiling as he tried to distract himself from his impending doom by mentally running over his lines again. 10 pairs of eyes raked his body almost ravenously, taking in the young male's appearance; his heart-shaped faced, framed by wispy blae locks that fell across his forehead in a swooping fringe. They took in the way long coal lashes brushed against high cheekbones each time he blinked, the impossible royal blue of his irises, and they followed the movement of his tongue as it darted out to wet his full, pink lips, before teeth sank into the bottom protrusion, worrrying it red. The bobbing of his adam's apple as he swallowed mesmerised the other males, and, unaware of the stares he was getting, Ciel stretched his arms above his head as his back arched sharply. His shirt rode up slightly, his hip peeking out slightly, and all eyes fell to that tantalizing bit of creamy flesh. The other males were practically drooling; gay or straight, all preferences were forgotten in the presence of the blae-haired male. He was sex on legs, fuck me practically oozing from his every pore. And oh, did those ten men want so badly to do just that. Those 10 pairs of eyes began mentally undressing him, picturing in a heated frenzy all the pleasurable things that they could possibly do to the shorter male.

Their thoughts were cut short, wilting at the opening of the double doors and the powerful entrance of three people. Two were male and one was female; all were dressed in finely tailored suits, their confident postures demanding undivided attention. And receive attention they did: all eyes were focused solely on them, thoughts of the tempting male vanishing like smoke. Ciel sat up, hands dropping to rest in his lap as he nervously eyed those who had just entered. He began worrying his lip between his teeth with renewed fervor, shifting his weight under the heavy gazes of what must have been the director. With bated breath, they awaited to be addressed by the older male, the younger yet stoic male, and their female counterpart.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, and welcome to the 10th," and hopefully last, he added mentally, "set of auditions for the production of Black Butler. I am Henry Warner, the director, and these are my associates, Mr. Rorke and Mrs. Leffew. They are the assistant director and producer, respectively.

"I am sure that what you expect of this audition is for each of you, one at a time, to be summoned to the auditorium and to display your skills for us. That will not be the case, however. You will be performing in the auditorium, but you will be doing it in front of each of your peers here, my associates and I, as well as the members of the production that have already been cast in their roles."

A wave of shock hit Ciel, and his nerves seemed to hit maximum; Alois had not informed him of such a stressful audition. He already felt naked, stripped bare for all eyes to judge harshly his performance skills. Murmurs of discontent filled the room as the other males auditioning exchanged wary looks.

"If you do not like our way of doing things, then you know where the door is," Mrs. Leffew deadpanned, her dark eyes piercing through each male like knives. A shudder ran down Ciel's spine when her eyes landed on him, a flicker of recognition lighting them before she smothered it. It confused him that she seemed to recognize him even though he had never met her before. The urge to flee and never look back coursed through his veins, but he kept himself firmly planted. The other males exchanged looks, but stayed seated; none of them were giving up this chance.

The Director followed Leffew's gaze, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the dainty male's appearance. So this is the one that Alois was singing the praises of. Yes, yes, he looks the part. Now to see if his skills are as wondrous as the blond brat claims them to be.

"Now, please follow us into the auditorium," Rorke said, his tone of voice demanding as he spun on his heel, Leffew and Warner following his lead. Eleven males rose to their feet, nervously shuffling after them. Ciel's knees wobbled slightly, and he feared that he would pass out. He clutched onto his peacoat as if it was his lifeline. The double doors led to an impressive auditorium, and his eyes glanced around, taking in the details with awe. The stage sat at the back of the massive room, dead-center. Rows upon rows of elegant seating leading up to the stage, and above them were balconies of seating for VIPS. It was all so beautiful, and yet Ciel could not fully appreciate it because his nerves were currently aflame. His body trembled slightly and his chest tightened with anxiety. Don't vomit, don't vomit, don't vomit... he chanted to himself in his head.

Oh god, I can't do this. Fucking Alois; if I ever see his gay ass ever again I'm going to murder him dead. The 11 males were led onto the stage and ushered behind a curtain where they gathered around the Director. "Here's how this will work: when your name is called, you will come out onto the stage, give us your best performance of whatever monologue you have selected to perform. Because most of the script is kept on lockdown, you had the option to choose from what few scenes we offered, or from the manga." This statement caused a few of the males to exchange nervous glances and shift anxiously from foot to foot; not one of them had thought to perform a monologe from the manga-save for Ciel. "From the looks of it, most of you did not consider the manga to be adequate enough material. Therefore some of you may be performing the same scene as one another. Please do your best to make it as original and captivating as possible.

"In any case, this shall be quite interesting," the Director mused, before continuing on explaining things.

The cast was being led in by Leffew, selecting their seats of choice. Alois practically bounced in the plush red seat in his excitement. He gripped the arms until his knuckles turned white, and he looked up at Leffew.

"Mrs. Producer, don't forget; let the best go last. He'll blow you away, I promise," the blond gushed, and Leffew rolled her eyes.

"Sit still, Alois. The Director already agreed to this scheme of yours, and it better go the way you say it will." Her voice was severe, and she turned away sharply, stalking to the front row and sitting down. The Director emerged from backstage and joined Leffew and Rorke, leaning back in his seat.

"Theo Anderson," Rorke announced, his voice echoing around the auditorium while his face held a completely bored expression.

"Here we go..." Ciel winced.

Ciel shifted his weight several times; 9 people had already gone before him, and as he watched their performances, his nerves began to settle. The skills each of them possessed were subpar, at best, and it was slowly building his confidence. The 10th person was called out; it was the one he thought handsome not that long ago. Now he looked white as a sheet, and a little nauseous. He stuttered through his lines, eyes flickering to all the faces in barely suppressed terror. The man froze as he skipped over a line, shame taking over his features. He quickly finished and stumbled off in the other direction, completely dejected.

It was finally Ciel's turn; he took a deep breath, and when his name was called, he confidently strutted onto the stage, stopping dead center and turning to the "audience". A raven-haired male that had been sitting by himself a little farther back had been bored through each and every person that had attempted to audition. He slouched in his seat, arms crossed lazily over his chest. A feeling that this audition would also be a bust itched at his skin, and he sighed, gazing up at the stage as the last (thankfully) male took to the stage. Immediately, carmine eyes lit up with interest. The man leaned forward, his eyes hungrily taking in every 4'11" of the blae-haired male. To call him gorgeous would be an understatement: he was the most beautiful creature to ever grace the earth. His coal lashes dusted faintly over high cheekbones as he closed his eyes for a few seconds. Parted pink lips drew sanguine eyes to them; he noticed the bottom one was reddended with constant abuse. Quirking an eyebrow, he already deduced that it must have been the blae-haired boy's nervous habit.

The dark haired male tilted his head to the side. Ciel, his name is, I believe... he mused to himself. It was just as the main character's. I have a feeling that his performance will be far from lacking. He leaned back and placed his right ankle on his left knee as he crossed his arms behind his head. The sanguine-eyed man watched with curiosity, awaiting the performance.

Ciel opened his eyes and glared at each person seated arrogantly; they no longer scared him, and he would be damned if he didn't give them his best performance. With a steadying breath, he raised his hand toward them and began his selected scene.

Quite suddenly, soft chuckles began to rumble in Ciel's chest before it became fullout laughter. With a twinge of madness, it came bursting forth. The cacophony echoed throughout the auditorium and bounced off the walls, holding such cruel amusement that it instantly captured the attention of all. He held his sides as if trying to contain the well of laughter. As his mirth died down, enough for him to speak, he drew a deep, gasping breath. "There was nothing here! The thing they were protecting didn't even exist!" He shouted, barely contained sadistic glee in his voice. The start of his audition was so powerful that everyone sat with bated breath, clutching the arms or the edges of their seats. Even the mysterious raven-haired male wasn't able to tear his eyes away from the spectacular boy; his presence commanded all of the attention, dominated the stage, and left all feeble auditions before his forgotten.

"They didn't know about this. They even became so desperate..." here, he drew a breath, wavering with unabridled amusement, drawing the audience in even more. "...that they died!" And that maddening laughter once again spilled out uncontrollably. His head flew back as his eyes closed, arms digging into his sides. After a few calming breaths, he continued. "Their desperate hope was ridiculously crushed like a worm. Superficial! Cruel! Revolting! Isn't it even more demonic than a demon? Right?!" He giggled, snorted, and roared with cruel humor.

His laughter finally seemed to dry up, no longer pouring forth, as he deadpanned, "And I am the same." His mad grin slowly shrank into a small smirk, as he breathed out, "I'm also... filled with the same ugly contents as them. This is what a human is!" Ciel's face screwed up in utter anguish as he looked straight into the audience, seeing but not seeing.

"I'm a human being!" He cried out, the utter torment staining the delicate beauty of his features piercing into the hearts of his audience. "Sebastian!" In that one name, his voice carried desperation, pain, helplessness, and longing.

Silence followed; for several moments, nothing but quiteness filled the air. Ciel's chest heaved, and he came back to himself. Suddenly, he was nervous. What if his audition was worse than the others? He straightened up, staring doe-eyed at the small gathering of cast and crew. He bit into his bottom lip, body tensing as he waited to be booed off stage.

Carmine eyes were wide as the raven-haired male's heart beat against his ribcage. Never before had a performance left him feeling so exhilarated, nor had one ever held him so enraptured. This dainty male captivated his every thought and left him wanting to expose more sides of the feisty-looking Ciel. A light blush dusted the young male's cheeks as his arms hung loosely at his sides, and his shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing milky flesh. The raven-haired male smirked, his interest in Ciel piquing even more. The younger male simply exuded sex pheromones, he was a breathakingly wondrous actor, and his beauty was unrivaled. Chocolatey eyes locked on those tantalizing hips, and he knew then that he had to have this boy-at all costs. Focusing his gaze on the boy's face, he realised how petrified the silence was leaving him, and so he began clapping, slowly, at first.

The echoing of applause startled Ciel, as well as awakened the others and ignited a standing ovation. The cacophony of clapping and cheering met the blae-haired males ears, and he blinked in confusion.

"Ciel, you magnificent bastard!" Alois called out, squealing in delight as he bounced around gaily. "I knew you could do it!"

"Splendid! Absolutely transcendent, Ciel m'boy!" The director roared out, glee lighting up his features.

Confusion etched itself on Ciel's features as his body warred over his fight-or-flight instinct.

"We have found our Ciel Phantomhive!" The Director pronounced cheerfully, causing the other cast members to howl uproariously.

As those words sunk in, Ciel began to tremble with excitement. He let out a whoop of joy, fingers fumbling for his phone as he hit speed dial.

"Have you applied to a co-" his mother began in lieu of greeting, but Ciel cut her off.

"I got a part in a major production! As the lead!" He practically squealed. "So you can take that doctor college and shove it straight up your arse, you soul-sucking bitch!" With that, he hung up. He could barely make out Alois' barking laughter as the blond choked out how proud he was of Ciel for telling off his Dementor parents.

Ciel hopped off the stage, and he practically pranced over to the Director, shaking his hand with gusto. "Thank you so much, Sir, I won't let you down!"

The Director chortled, patting Ciel on the shoulder. "Please, call me Henry. And congratulations. We will be holding a cast party tomorrow in the ballroom of a hotel. Amelia will give you the address, and it is at 8 o'clock sharp. You will get to meet all of your fellow cast members in a more relaxed setting."

"Amelia?" Ciel asked, head tilting to the side, wondering who the hell that was.

"That would be me," Leffew stated, giving Ciel a soft smile. "You may call me Amy though, if you'd like. And Rorke here, well. He's just Rorke." Taking out a business card and flipping it to the back, she wrote on it the designated hotel and the time and date. "We'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

Ciel could only nod as he accepted the card, looking down to memorize the hotel name. Excitement still coursed through him, and he happily clutched the card. He would officially meet the cast that he would be working with tomorrow night.

Sanguine eyes watched the glowing blae-haired male from afar. "The cast party, hm?" He mused out loud to himself in his liquid velvet voice. "This is about to get very interesting... Ciel."

E/N: I hope this was up to par. Thank you for taking the time to read it, and I always appreciate reviews! The monologue is from the manga, Chapter 36 Pages 22-27, © Yana Toboso. Oh, and about those red pajama pants, with the yellow stars and "who's your daddy?", I had a pair of those all through middle school and into my first year of high school. They were so ratty, but they were my absolute favorites. Sadly, my mother threw them away one day. I would have worn them until they had fallen off. I included them here because, well, I feel like some of my experiences or personal quirks bleed out into the characters I write about. Anyway, that is all for now. Until next time~

Kisses, Ritsy