Chapter 2:

I became an insomniac.

I distinctly remember how the rain fell outside because it terrified me; roars of thunder and the collapse of a trillion tiny oceans upon the ground. Utter chaos ensued outside and I was trapped in someone else's home. Ciel's home was the least bit comforting. Something cold and dark always lurked in the vastness of his house and thus I stayed awake.

And the darkness called out to me:

"Are you alright, Lady Elizabeth?"

"Sebastian? Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Why have you come to me?"

"I heard your scream and came as quickly as I could."

"Why couldn't Ciel be here?"

"I'm afraid the young master is sleeping. "

"He doesn't love me, does he?"

"Forgive by saying this," his footsteps slowly became louder, "But that is nonsense, my lady."

"That's not comforting at all. I want to hear it from him, and then I will sleep."

The darkness chuckled, "Perhaps a story will suffice?"

The butler sat on the foot of the bed, a slight grin and amused crimson eyes flustered me.

"I suppose it would," I responded uninterested, hoping the butler would leave soon.

"Well, my lady," he whispered, "Allow me to tell you the story about how the sun loved the moon so much. Every evening he died to let her breathe."

"No fair," I remember pouting to his leisure, "I've outgrown fairy tales, Sebastian."

"I can assure you, this is no fairytale. It is one's life in which I have the privilege of telling."

"And whose life is it?"

The butler smiled sadly.

1950 London:

They say that first love never truly dies. It merely hibernates, waiting to suddenly grasp your shoulders and shake all of the tears out of you. And they are most certainly true, for I've seen him everywhere; the darkness of certain nights, a young girl's mischievous smile, a rising sun. I have traveled through a hundred years, searching. Waiting. Wanting. His voice wraps around my soul and doesn't intend to leave. And ever so desperately I've needed the rain, a tsunami falling from the sky to wash away the memories; to start a clean slate. Yet he stays, hides, and sometimes grasps my shoulders; a reminder that I cannot give up.

I've made a deal with a certain grim reaper. A red-haired overzealous creature who granted me such a power in return for a date with an adonis of my choosing. The deal was simple enough. But finding Sebastian was the complicated part.

Apparently his species can take different forms, appearing drastically different from their previous condition. However something remains apparent. And with his razor-sharp teeth, I recollect the reaper saying:

"Their eyes," he chuckled, "Those bastards don't even know how to change their eyes!"

I've traveled the world in search of a particular set of irises; the red kind. And there were a few possible winners; a young man in India, a woman in America, a girl in some village in Germany. Alas, they could not remember a certain story which brings me to my next option; a trip back to where I started and a meeting with a private investigator; not the type to research human beings though.

"I am Collin. Collin Peterson," he had an icy complexion, "It is a pleasure to meet you, uh-"

"Elizabeth Midford. But please, call me Lizzy." We shook hands.

A noisy cafe, the man thought, was a good place to discuss demons.

"Right," he responded in a monotone voice, "Lizzy, why do seek this demon? What makes him so important-"

"And that is a personal reason," I tried chuckling, "You aren't very fun to talk to."

He paused, "It is not my first time hearing that before."

"I'm sorry I don't have much time for chit-chat."

"And neither do I."

"I am looking for a man-demon, if you must call him that. He has an unique set of-"

The investigator sighed, resting his face on his palm, "I assume you have a picture."

"No. I haven't seen him in a very long time, if you understand what I mean."

"Well, you're hopeless, I cannot help you."

"Why not?" I felt my agitation boiling.

"Obviously, you're delusional. If I were you, I would have given up searching a long time ago if I did not have the evidence of his existence."

"But I remember…"

"Memories are nothing compared to the physical manifestations of these creatures, Lizzy. It would be nearly impossible to find him without at least a photo."

"Nearly impossible, you say," and something clicked, "does that mean it's still a possibility you'll find him?"

"Perhaps it could be a possibility."

I grabbed a hold of one of his hands. I couldn't allow this opportunity to slip.

"Thank you for taking on this case. It means so much to me. We'll start searching tomorrow morning."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"And don't worry about the pay. My family is has been one of the elites for centuries."

"Fine," he sighed once more, "But I must tell you, Lizzy,

'these violent delights have violent ends.'"

Author's note: Hello! Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. I'm going to make it a once-a-week type of thing! Please review your thoughts. It is much appreciated. I was inspired to incorporated a bit of Shakespeare into the story, hopefully you enjoyed it.