Ciel slept in late on Saturday, dead to the world until a little past noon. He lay awake in bed for a few moments after he awoke, a sticky fatigue clinging to his temples. At last, he rousted himself, trying to ignore the painful memories that surfaced with wakefulness as he busied himself with his morning routine. He set a kettle to boil for tea, then slumped into a wooden chair at his small dining table. He lay his head down on the table, letting his eyes drift shut and his thoughts float away.
He was cut off from this tiny shred of peace by the harsh buzzing of his phone against wood. He snatched it up from the table, checking the display. Lizzy.
Ciel heaved an enormous sigh. Dealing with his bubbly, dramatic cousin was one of the last things Ciel wanted just then. But knowing the price for ignoring her would be worse than the pain of indulging her, he answered.
"Ciieeelll!" she cried, before he could even say "hello."
"Hello, Lizzy," he replied. Tiredness threatened to overwhelm his voice.
"How's university? How are your classes? Do you like your classmates? Are any of them cute?" she asked, brimming with joyful enthusiasm.
"Ugh, hardly," Ciel said, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he rose and prepared tea. "The second chair is the worst. He's always throwing himself at the professor and he's an absolute prick." He described some of Trancy's more notable behaviors as he prepared a cup and resumed his seat at the table.
"That's not cute at all." Lizzy said, her voice mock-solemn. "But that's not really what I was asking. I meant, is there anyone you fancy?"
Ciel took a long sip of tea, heavily doctored with sugar and a splash of milk. "I'm not terribly interested in any of my classmates."
True enough; he had no idea what Joshua did with his time, and that had been a one-time mistake anyway. Michaelis wasn't a classmate, and Ciel had no intentions of voicing aloud his strange and pointless fascination. He hoped that if he ignored it as much as possible, he could will his interest in his music professor out of existence.
Lizzy giggled, a sweet, charming sound. "Oh, Ciel, you're too serious. You should be having fun! It's your first year of university!"
"Is that what you did?" Ciel asked with a hint of mirth. His cousin was so irresistibly happy with life; it was infectious.
"Oh, you know I don't care about boys, you silly thing! But I certainly enjoyed being able to dress up and take classes I was interested in."
Though bright, she often struggled with school, and Ciel suspected his family's wealth and his aunt's social connections may have helped Lizzy earn a place at such a prestigious university.
She seemed to be thriving; though only a second-year, she was already captain of the fencing team, and was apparently notorious across campus for her exuberant, over-the-top feminine apparel. She delighted in these absolute expressions of herself, and Ciel couldn't help but feel envious of the way she'd found such comfort so quickly.
"How are things this year?" he asked. He hated to talk on the phone for too long, but the more he gave Lizzy, the less she would hound him. As she burbled joyfully, Ciel set about ironing a handful of shirts and trousers he'd laundered a few days earlier. He supplied "mmm"s and "ahh"s where it seemed appropriate, his mind drifting farther and farther away as Lizzy talked.
His drunken adventure had forced him to admit that he was at least somewhat attracted to his professor; with this realization, that touch from weeks ago seemed painful, teasing.
With a sudden surge of annoyance, Ciel realized he'd left his book at the bar last night. It could easily be replaced, but it had his page marked. Besides, a trip back to the bar was just as easy as a trip to the bookstore or the wait to have it shipped.
He snapped back into focus on the conversation when he heard his name. Apparently, he'd fallen away completely, allowing a long silence to stretch out.
"Please try to be happy, okay, Ciel?" said his cousin gently, full of kindness and concern.
Ciel nodded, eyes squeezed shut. "I will."
"I love you," she said softly.
On his end, Ciel nodded again, though of course Lizzy couldn't see it. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."
She exhaled huffily, recovering in a fraction of a second. He never said it back, but he knew she couldn't help getting her hopes up each time she said it. "Bye, Ciel."
He hung up, sitting quietly for a moment before rising for another cup of tea. It was easy for someone beautiful and charming like Lizzy to talk about magically being happy, but Ciel carried sickness in his soul. Wherever Lizzy saw light, he saw darkness. More often than not, his gloomy predictions served him well; he was cautious and on his guard, and his expectations were usually met or exceeded.
He'd known ugliness Lizzy couldn't understand.
That evening, Ciel walked the few blocks to the bar to retrieve his book. The wind was unforgiving, and cut through the layers of his clothing with a sharp edge. He ducked gratefully indoors, leaving his coat on as he approached the bar.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" the bartender asked.
"No, I—" Ciel started. Oh, what the hell, he thought. He was freezing and it was a Saturday night anyway. "Actually, I'll take a glass of the Hennessy Paradis."
The bartender nodded, taking Ciel's credit card and bustling to fill his order as Ciel seated himself at the bar. "Good taste for someone so young," he commented, setting the crystal tulip glass before Ciel.
He scowled at this, but held his tongue. "Also, I was here last night, and I left my book."
The bartender bent over, pulling something from an invisible shelf at the front of the bar, and then held up Ciel's copy of Demons. "This it?"
"Yes." Ciel reached for his book, laying it awkwardly across his lap since it wouldn't fit in any of his pockets.
The bartender gave him a final, polite nod, before busying himself elsewhere.
Ciel sat musing at the bar; he was tempted to move to a more comfortable chair and resume his reading as he sipped his cognac, but he was afraid he'd forget his book again and be forced to replay this scene once more. Instead, he tried to focus on the music filtering through the bars speakers. He jiggled a foot dangling loosely from a crossed leg, but was otherwise impassive. The atmosphere was so pleasant as he finished his first drink that he ordered another.
His face grew flushed as the cognac melted through his veins, and he stood to wriggle out of his coat while waiting for another glass. The lining of the sleeves caught on the buttons of his shirt cuffs, and he tugged awkwardly with arms trapped halfway round his back. His book slid to the floor with a papery slap, and he made a mental note to retrieve it as soon as he'd freed himself.
"Allow me," a lovely, deep purple voice said, as skillful hands began to extract Ciel from his garment.
He froze, a rabbit spotted by a hawk. "Professor?" he choked out. The coat slid easily from his arms in his comically incapacitated state.
"Evening, Phantomhive," Michaelis said easily, handing Ciel the nubby wool trench coat folded and draped neatly in his elegant hands.
A traitorous blush rose in Ciel's cheeks as his eye drank in his professor. "We missed you in class yesterday, sir," he said smoothly, hoping the moody lighting and his diplomatic bearing would serve to disguise his emotions.
Michaelis gently lifted his hand across to his heart, dipping his head slightly. "My deepest apologies," he said. Ciel couldn't decide if he detected sarcasm or not.
"Anyway, I just left my book here last night, so I came back to get it," Ciel said, holding up the novel that he'd spilled to the floor upon standing.
"You're just determined to lose it, aren't you," Michaelis said in a charming, humorous tone.
"Shut up," Ciel murmured, before quickly clapping his hands over his mouth. "Oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry, please..."
Michaelis looked terribly amused, waving a black-nailed hand at Ciel's apology.
Gulping down a desperate sip of cognac, Ciel found his voice once more, steady and formal. "How are you, sir?"
Michaelis smiled; to Ciel, it felt faintly predatory. "Wonderful," he said. It seemed he hadn't ordered a drink yet. "How are you, Phantomhive?"
Horrible discomfort urged Ciel towards his glass, but he didn't want to get drunk in front of his professor. In the end, he settled for holding it loosely in one hand."I'm well, thank you, sir."
Michaelis's eyes drifted lazily to Ciel's glass. "Hennesey Paradis," he said in rich tones. "A wonderful blend."
"Thank you, sir," said Ciel, eye fixed determinedly on his cognac. He felt uncharacteristically shy; the touches he'd imagined, coupled with last night's fiasco, were a bit too much in the face of such immediate personal contact.
There was a brief pause, and Ciel decided to make his escape. He slid from his tall leather perch, dropping the few inches his toes dangled above the ground. "Anyway, I got my book, so I should probably head out."
Michaelis looked like he wanted to laugh. "You had just ordered your drink, and you were taking off your coat when I arrived. Don't let me interrupt your evening."
Ciel stood, waffling helplessly between staying and fleeing. He didn't want his professor to think he was rude, but he felt painfully on edge in Michaelis's presence.
"No need to be shy," Michaelis said, in what Ciel supposed was a friendly, encouraging sort of voice. It made him feel all the more trapped; to leave now would be to admit shyness, and possibly reveal the interest he was developing in his professor. To stay, however...
Bolstered by prideful resolve, Ciel clambered back up onto his barstool. "Very well, then," he said, affecting a casual air, despite the cold sweat pooling under his arms.
Michaelis sat on the stool next to him, settling himself down with far more grace than was afforded by Ciel's considerably shorter legs.
"So, Phantomhive," Michaelis began, nothing but professional cordiality in his voice. "Enjoying classes so far?"
"Yes, sir." Ciel wrenched his gaze upward, concentrating all his years of refined upbringing into looking pleasantly neutral.
Though Ciel hadn't heard Michaelis order a drink, a glass had been set before him at some point. Michaelis's eyes burned in the low flame of the gas lamps as he lifted the glass of dark liquid to his lips. As it caught the light, it sparkled a deep red.
He made a small, contented noise as he replaced the glass on the gleaming dark wood of the bar. "You make a wonderful first chair." A quiet intensity underlay his polite tone. "You play with feeling, something few people your age have mastered."
Ciel's eye met Michaelis's, and his heart climbed into his throat and throbbed there. After a second, he swallowed his nervousness. "Thank you." he took a sip of cognac, then blushed. "Sir," he added hastily.
"So, Professor," Ciel said, trying to cover his slip-up. "When are we going to start working on our next piece?"
Michaelis took another sip of the red-black liquid. "Ah, I was actually planning to introduce it next class. In fact, I was hoping I'd get a chance to speak with you about it."
Ciel stared at Michaelis, and his some of his nervousness was forgotten as hope bubbled up in its place. He took a sip of cognac, waiting.
"We'll be doing 'The Lark Ascending;' I was going to ask you to perform the solo."
Ciel's heart soared. Usually, solos went to graduate students, or at least to the upper-levels. "The Lark Ascending" was a particularly solo-heavy piece, and Ciel would be carrying most of the performance. He was smugly pleased that his playing had warranted such an honor, and he was sure he could carry it out to perfection.
"I'd be honored, sir," Ciel finally replied, trying to sound humble and grateful.
Michaelis smiled in response, though his lids lowered slightly and the curve of his lips was slightly conspiratorial, as if he knew everything Ciel had been thinking. "Very good. I'm glad I got a chance to speak with you before announcing the piece."
Ciel closed his eyes and smiled into his glass, anticipating the tantrum Trancy would throw when he learned Ciel had been given such a prestigious solo—especially by the teacher whose attention he sought so desperately.
"Of course, I'll also be requesting that you attend additional lessons with me in the evenings."
Ciel nodded, setting down his glass. Nervous anticipation prickled over the tops of his shoulders and the back of his neck as he contemplated spending extra time alone with the professor he spent so much time thinking about.
If personal contact could no longer be avoided, then Ciel would have to give up fantasizing about the professor's touch. He would put it out of his mind; both that intriguing brush of fingers and the imagined caresses to Ciel's bare skin would be forgotten. From now on, as far as Ciel was concerned, Michaelis might as well be his aunt Francis.
Far away from his thoughts, Ciel heard Michaelis ask if Tuesday and Thursday evenings at six o'clock would be acceptable. Ciel came back fully into the conversation, having reached something of a resolution within himself. He nodded. "Yes, sir, that would be fine. Rehearsal rooms?" Aunt Michaelis, he added in his mind.
"Yes, I think for now that would be fine." Michaelis took a long sip of his drink.
Ciel mirrored the action, draining the last of his cognac. "Well, thank you very much, sir. I'm really looking forward to working on this piece. However, I should really get going." Once again, Ciel clambered awkwardly from his barstool, suddenly feeling much tipsier as he stood.
Michaelis nodded. "Of course. Good night, Phantomhive."
Trying to disguise his slight swaying, Ciel pulled on his coat and collected his book from the bar. "Good night, Professor."
He felt the liquid warmth of Michaelis's eyes on him as he walked to the heavy, old-fashioned door. As he opened it and stepped out into the freezing velvet night, he did not look back at Michaelis.
If he had, he would have seen Michaelis watching him, trailing his tongue over lips curved into a wolfish smile.
A/N: i. At least at my old school, I used to regularly see my professors out and around town. It happened all the time in high school, too.
ii. The nature of Ciel's injury is such that when he blinks, squinches his eyes shut, etc, both eyes perform the action; when he looks at something, however, he sees only with his un-patched eye. Thus, depending on the action, I will either say "eye" or "eyes."
iii. I should add, I love and adore Lizzy, but I imagine that Ciel would find her a bit much at times.
iv. By the way—Dives is pronounced with two syllables—DEE-vaze.