Ciel's large eyes opened to meet burgundy irises framed by pitch black lashes staring at him. Though startled at first, the boy relaxed when he realized it was only his butler. The black-clad man was seated on the far side of his bed. By the way the comforters had shaped around him, he had been there a length of time. The Phantomhive heir was slightly surprised at this. He hadn't expected Sebastian to remain with him. His mind had taunted him about the probability of Sebastian merely telling his master what he wanted to hear. He was fully ready to pretend like nothing had happened, or to endure any snide remarks on his servant's part.
But the demon only stared at him with those unreadable eyes—vacant of condescension or amusement.
Ciel blinked dully at Sebastian. The motion was uncomfortable; his eyes were horribly swollen by the tears shed the night before. He wondered if the effect was visible to Sebastian, but hissed at the thought. He had allowed himself to show a demon weakness. He had asked him to take his soul; yet, the young Phantomhive couldn't bring himself to regret it. His life was agony—there was no other way to put it. Even the purpose that unwittingly summoned a demon straight from hell no longer sated him. Despite his beautiful fiancée, his stately manor, and his loving servants, Ciel Phantomhive was utterly unhappy. He felt a sort of superficial peace in their presence; but true tranquility was only achieved when his pitch black butler was at his side. He hated it, but Sebastian was his pillar of strength—a person on whom he relied completely. His bond with the demon went well beyond using the creature of hell's power. He needed the entire entity that was Sebastian Michaelis.
"Well?" Ciel suddenly snapped, his anger not directed at Sebastian, but rather at himself. "What are you doing here, sitting idly about?"
Sebastian continued to stare at the boy, his familiar smirk still absent. "Don't you remember? You asked me to remain with you." An elegant, porcelain white finger pointed to the disheveled covers of the entire bed, rather than the usual disarray on the right side. Ciel realized that he had indeed fallen asleep in Sebastian embrace, and that the demon had acted as any butler would to keep his distraught master from waking.
"I. . ." Ciel bit his lip, fumbling with the edge of his comforter. "Thank you for . . . uh. . ."
Sebastian suddenly smiled sadly. The expression shocked the earl. Since when were his smiles anything but mocking?
"Say no more, my lord. It is not the Earl Phantomhive's place to thank his servants," his butler intoned gently, pulling out his pocket watch. "It is still very early. Would you like to rest for a while longer? I will wake you accordingly."
"No," Ciel responded, though his eyes felt itchy with tiredness. "But I will remain in my quarters for today. Tell the servants to stay out of here when they wake."
"Yes, young master. I will prepare your tea, if you will excuse me—"
Panic filling the young boy, Ciel's small hand grabbed Sebastian's wrist as he made to lift himself from the bed. "My lord?" his butler inquired, staring at the fingers wrapped around his limb.
"Ah." Ciel snatched his hand back, his nails digging into his palm painfully. "Yes, of course."
"Are you sure you are fine?"
"Of course," the young boy snapped, expertly hiding the turmoil he felt within himself. "Who is a mere servant to question his master?"
Sebastian's eyes narrowed as he appraised the young boy who seemed so small compared to the vast expanse of his bed. Ciel guardedly watched his butler as the demon's face suddenly fixed itself into the usual confident smile.
"I will be back shortly," Sebastian said, bowing deeply to the earl. "Please, forgive my insolence."
The Phantomhive kept his stern expression in place until his onyx-clad butler left the room. He fell back into his pillows resignedly, shutting his eyes against the mocking, golden light of morning. He was questioning his sanity, his butler was questioning his sanity—was there anything to question? Perhaps he hadn't recovered from that month as well as he had thought. Yes, the strength and protection of a demon straight from Hell had helped; but could children like the ones he had seen with Baron Kelvin truly return to sanity, despite what he had told Sebastian at the warehouse about his situation? After seeing their eyes, he had begun to question himself. Now, Sebastian would only logically be wondering the same thing. When would he grow tired of having a master who lost the vindication under which he made a deal with the devil? When would he lose patience with this mundane existence and take the child whom he served faithfully at his request and break the contract early?
Ciel was nagged by his butler's reassuring words last night. Sebastian was not prone to such soft words—what about last night had been different? Did he merely act as an appropriate butler and attempt to soothe his terrified master? The young boy would've blown off the night prior as such a motive, but his butler's actions the morning following did not support his hypothesis. The somber look that graced the man's features was different from any he had seen since the day they met. Had he truly been rattled by Ciel's breakdown? While every extinct the earl possessed—everything he knew about his butler—told him to reject that theory, something about Sebastian's words and mannerisms made him wonder.
His nightmares had ceased a year after returning to his rebuilt mansion. However, when they had occurred, the most Sebastian could do was stand in the room and wait until he fell asleep, a dark—albeit comforting—presence that lulled him to sleep. With this sudden return of haunted dreams, Sebastian's actions were entirely unusual. He actually held the crying boy. For a moment, Ciel Phantomhive had felt at peace; but the moonlit tranquility disappeared with the rising of the sun. Now, he could only wonder at the implications.
"Young master?" Sebastian's voice intruded on his tormented pondering, his favorite fragrance of Earl Grey permeating the room. "You do not look well."
Ciel's eyes slowly opened, blinking twice before focusing on the tall demon before him. "Is that Earl Grey?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Yes, my lord. It is your preference, indeed?"
"Of course." Large eyes drifted over to the window, which no longer allowed the passage of yellow beams of light. Heavy clouds had covered the sun. Keen, scarlet orbs followed the boy's gaze as he placed the large teacup in his hands.
"It looks like snow," Sebastian commented. He smiled slightly as Ciel raised the teacup to his lips, sipping the perfectly brewed liquid.
"Hmm." Ciel considered his butler's words and the tea. "I'm going to the courtyard after my tea."
His butler didn't react to the sudden change of his master's plans for the day. "I shall accompany you."
"No," the boy said quickly. "I shall go alone."
Sebastian's eyes widened slightly, but he regained his composure quickly. With a deep bow, he said, "Yes, my lord."
Ciel shivered undetectably under the heavy clothing Sebastian insisted he wear, his breathing slightly ragged deep within his chest. The wool was effective at trapping his body heat, but there wasn't much to lose in the first place. His nose had frozen a while ago, becoming a point of absolute numbness. The cold wind that whistled so eerily through the barren branches of the trees pierced the skin of his cheeks, sending them on their way to a state of frigid unfeeling as well. Regardless of his discomfort, the boy continued to walk down the winding paths of his manor's courtyard. The more distance he put between himself and the mansion that promised such material warmth, the better he felt. He supposed that the enormous manor was only a part of it. More of the relief came from having a break from his infuriatingly confusing butler. Though he never failed to be comforted by the demon sworn to protect him, seeds of insecurity had been planted in the boy's mind, either growing or withering under certain circumstances. In light of the occurrence last night, the thought was thriving, its poisonous tendrils reaching to captivate the entirety of his mind.
Just Sebastian had predicted, small, pristinely white flakes began to blur his vision. They were few at first, but in minutes the air was thick with snow. As he drew in another breath of frigid air, a drawn-out cough escaped in an effort to clear the uncomfortable, constricted feeling in his chest and lungs. Ciel suddenly recalled the bittersweet memory of himself and Lizzy frolicking about in such conditions, bright pink hands packing the white substance into misshapen globs to haul at one another. Her aim was always deadly, but Lizzy never outdid her fiancé and missed whenever he did. His mother and father would have to come outside themselves to bring the children back inside, since the snow acted as insulation and effectively trapped the joyous Ciel Phantomhive and his beautiful fiancée in their own utopia.
Ciel leaned down, scraping up the small amount of snow that had clung to the grass perfectly kept by Finnian. His black leather gloves did little to retain heat, and the crumbling snowball quickly sapped all warmth from them. The earl was audibly wheezing now, just as he had all those years ago; but he was beyond caring. He was the Earl of Phantomhive—if he wanted to be outside, he would be outside. His parents were no longer here to pick him up and take him inside despite his protests. His hands crushed the snowball suddenly at the thought. He would do as he pleased.
He ripped his jacket off, throwing the muffling apparel to the side viciously. The shivering now resembled more violent spasms, shaking Ciel's fragile physique. He resisted the urge to rub his arms for heat, refusing to show any more weakness. If he couldn't handle a bit of snow, he didn't deserve to be his father's successor. As the wind gusted into his face, Ciel gritted his teeth to halt their chattering. Caught in the heat of his anger, he ferociously tore his black eye patch off, casting it aside where it could be buried in the snow. He couldn't entirely muffle the sporadic coughs, but attempting to entirely mask the way they rattled his body alongside the fierce shaking that had taken root made his muscles sorer and sorer with every passing moment.
The coughs became more ragged and nasty, thoroughly shaking the small frame of Ciel Phantomhive. He could not successfully inhale any oxygen, and his head was beginning to spin from the lack of air. Fire raced through his chest, throat, and lungs, but the dark-haired boy persistently trudged further down the path. His legs felt leaden as more effort was required to keep up their ill-fated pace. With his brain malfunctioning, try as he might, he couldn't get his legs to move anymore. They crumbled with no commands from his mind to keep moving, and Ciel smashed face-first into the cold, snow-dusted concrete of the walkway. He did not feel the extraordinary pain in his left cheekbone or the frigid temperatures of the ground seeping into his limbs, nor did he notice when melting snow ran into his singly unmarred, streaming eye.
He subconsciously curled in on himself, tucking his quivering limbs near his chest. His ragged coughing was more frequent than any attempt to breathe, and the vision in his right eye had begun to be claimed by a comforting blanket of darkness. All the fight had been sucked from him, accompanying the little body heat stolen by the glacial ground. Ciel was quick to give in to the darkness, eyelids sliding glossily over tormented eyes. Increasingly bold winds gusted around the small Phantomhive, whistling near his ear and through frozen locks of ashen hair. The snow accumulating on his frail body was a comforting embrace to Ciel's fading and delirious consciousness. As all feeling nearly abandoned the boy, he smiled.
Author's Note: I wasn't anticipating writing a second chapter. . . However, a particularly nice reviewer convinced me to continue this story and practice my mental ability on building a plot. This may very well turn into a multi-chapter fic in which Ciel battles his questioning of his sanity alongside Sebastian. I hope that Ciel isn't too out of character here—I feel like if he were to break down, anger and masochism would be his way of showing emotion. Any thoughts on the matter would be appreciated!