Chapter 3

His Butler, Frozen

There was only one word that could describe Sebastian's conduct over the past few weeks. Cold. He performed every task to perfection, but he, the kind puckish demon that Ciel had come to love, was somewhere else entirely. Ever since that day, the man who had once been friend, confidant, and perhaps more, was no more than a butler. Ciel, who had been slowly undressing in front of the clouded bathroom mirror, stopped suddenly and wiped a circle of condensation from the glass. His pale, sullen face stared back, the violet pentagram on his right eye accusing. "Nothing happened between us." The words echoed around the inside of his head and he wondered, once again, if he had done the right thing. At the time, it had seemed logical, advisable even, to end things before they became too tangled, but now…The mirror clouded, and Ciel finished undressing. He slid into the large bathtub, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back onto the edge. Sebastian's face came into his mind's eye. Pained, as he dropped the white napkin onto the floor. Had it been the right thing to do? Ciel's fists clenched, short nails digging into his palms. "I'm really happy that you're my fiancée." Lizzie's sincere face filled his mind. She deserved happiness, of that Ciel was sure. It would be best for all of them if Ciel just forgot his tainted affection forever. Sebastian's heart would heal. But could his own?

Sebastian was a demon and, like all demons, had supreme control over his emotions. Even so, it had taken all the strength he had to get up the morning after that disastrous day and make breakfast. Unable to look his master in the eye after what had happened, he had moved through his duties like a specter. Every word the young man spoke sounded too much like those words: "Nothing happened between us." He had not even been able to return to the parlor to finish gathering the things from that day's tea. Instead, he had sent Mey-Rin, which had ended in the rest of the tea set being smashed. Sebastian had not minded, neglecting to even scold the clumsy maid. She had peered at him strangely through round lenses and asked if he was feeling well. He hadn't replied. Standing now, with his hand resting on the closed door of Ciel's bathroom, Sebastian listened to the young man's steady breathing and the beating of his heart. He should be in the kitchen, he knew, but he was reluctant to end the moment. He enjoyed sharing the silence and the stillness, since they no longer shared anything else. He allowed his breaths to synchronize with his master's until he heard the water sloshing as Ciel clambered out of the tub. The butler sighed, and then retreated into the darkened hallways of the house.

Darkness enveloped Ciel. A coarse blindfold was tied around his eyes and manacles chafed at his wrists. He crouched in the corner of the cage, shivering like a frightened animal. He was freezing cold, and his bare body was wracked with the agony of days of hunger and thirst. Voices came from outside, echoing in the stone hallways. Loud, angry, laughter that chilled him further. Then the rattle of keys. rough hands. the stinging of a knife slicing his skin. And a searing, burning pain in his side. He would not scream. He would not give them the pleasure of hearing his cries. More pain. His skin blistered and charred. Warm blood covering his cold skin. More hands, holding him down to a stone table. He screamed.

"Sebastian!" Ciel woke up with tears streaming down his face and the name on his lips. He closed his mouth quickly, half hoping the demon had not heard and half hoping that he had. He wrapped his arms around himself and curled into a ball, trying to quiet the sobs that wracked his frame. He shivered, remembering the dream and the true memories it had been drawn from. That had been seven years ago, and yet the nightmares still found him sometimes. He hugged himself tighter, trying not to want the comforting arms of Sebastian as much as he did. The warm embrace, the whispered consolations. "Sebastian." He whispered, so quietly he could barely hear it himself, and his tears flowed even faster. He was no longer crying about his dreams, but about everything else. Sebastian. Elizabeth. Himself. He stopped trying to quiet his weeping and just let himself cry. What did he have to fear? No one would hear him. Sebastian would not come. He would never come again.

From the corner of the dark room, Sebastian watched Ciel cry. He watched the thin shoulders shake until he feared they would break in half and the tears cascade down the flushed cheeks until the sheets were damp. Every part of him ached to enclose the shuddering shoulders in his embrace and hold Ciel until his tears stopped. It was only a few steps away. It would take less than a second. But the young man might as well have been miles away. Sebastian was frozen in place, too frightened even to breathe, lest his master realize that he was witnessing this. Ciel's sobs intensified and Sebastian reached out, tracing the outline of the boy's form with his fingertips. One foot slid infinitesimally forward. In an instant he could be stroking the soft blue-black hair and feeling the thudding heartbeat slow. "How can a Phantomhive Earl shrink away from his wife-to-be and seek comfort in the arms of his butler?" Sebastian's hand curled into a fist and fell limply to his side. "How can he seek comfort in the arms of his demon?" Sebastian took a step back. His eyes stung nearly as much as the mark on the back of his hand. Sebastian could not take it any longer. He turned to leave. "Sebastian." Ciel whispered, so softly it was like a breath of wind. The demon was ensnared, caught like an insect in a spider's web.

At some point, Ciel cried himself into an uneasy slumber. His dreams were fragmented and vague, a whirl of color and sound that morphed from one image to another. The only constants were the warmth that enveloped him and the feeling of another heartbeat matching the pace of his own. They lulled him into a deeper sleep, peaceful and free of dreams. Sunlight woke him in the morning, along with the soft rustling of curtains being pushed aside. "It is time to wake up, Bocchan." Came the familiar toneless voice from somewhere across the room. Ciel groaned and shifted, although it was mostly out of habit. In actuality, he felt more rested than he had in weeks. His neck was not sore and his limbs not nearly as heavy as they usually were in the mornings. He opened his mouth to voice his customary complaint: "Must you always wake me so bloody early, Sebastian?". Then closed it. He stretched, keeping his eyes closed for as long as possible in an attempt to retain the warmth and contentment that he remembered from his dreams. At last, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He blinked his eyes open to see Sebastian with his back to him. The man reached up to open another curtain, leonine muscles rippling beneath the black jacket. Not that again. Ciel squeezed his eyes shut. "Must you always wake me so bloody early, Sebastian?"

Sebastian heard the well-known words and felt at once very relieved, although a little disappointed. His master was acting normally, therefore he could have no memory of what had happened. Good. He would not have been pleased, had he remembered. "How can he seek comfort in the arms of his demon?" he had perhaps it was I who sought comfort, my lord. Sebastian thought, recalling with chagrin how desperately he had clutched Ciel after the young man had called for him. His own body had shaken with Ciel's sobs until he felt as if he were crying with him. He pushed the memories away, schooled his face into an emotionless mask, and turned to face the tousled youth sitting cross-legged on the large bed. Ciel's hair was unkempt and his movements childishly uncoordinated as he rubbed his eyes. Sebastian smiled fondly, then quickly returned to stoicism before Ciel could see. He had already failed once in his attempt to suppress his love, but had been saved by Ciel's forgetfulness. It would not do to fail again.