"Will you be all right if I leave you here for the evening?" Sebastian asked. The afternoon was beginning to fade, and street lamps were beginning to reflect all along the Thames.
Sebastian had donned a black suit, complete with gold buttons and a matching Albert chain. Ciel wondered if the man actually had a pocketwatch, or if the chain was just for show. The outfit seemed awfully formal.
"You'd trust me alone in your penthouse?"
"Steal whatever you want."
"Seriously?"
"Just leave the scotch – good scotch is so hard to find these days."
Ciel wasn't sure if he was meant to laugh or not. He remained silent.
"I'll be back sometime before sunrise," Sebastian continued. He took another sip of his beer before setting it down on the countertop. It was his fourth of the day.
Sebastian was an alcoholic. Ciel was sure of this. Yet somehow, the man never seemed drunk - not even tipsy. His hands were perfectly steady and he held the bottle delicately, as if it were merely a cup of tea. A few drops of condensation soaked into the white fabric of his gloves.
"Where are you going?" Ciel asked, curious.
"I have a client," Sebastian replied vaguely.
"You mean like…"
"A lady. I am escorting her to the theater this evening."
"The theater."
"Among other sundry locations."
"Meaning your bed."
"Her bed, more than likely. You ask an awful lot of questions for someone in the business."
Ciel felt his face grow warm. "I've only been in 'the business,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers, "for the past two weeks. And I don't care what you do with your so-called client."
"Then why did you ask?"
Ciel turned away, embarrassed. Maybe he did care, he thought to himself, before quickly banishing the idea. Sebastian was at least, what? Ten years older than him? Twenty?
"For all I know, you could pretend to leave, sneak up on me, and kill me," he said, thinking quickly. Sebastian scoffed.
"If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it last night in that alley."
"I don't know," Ciel said with a frown. "You could be like the old witch in Hansel and Gretel."
Sebastian laughed. It was genuine, and his eyes crinkled up just the tiniest bit at the sides before resuming their normal, thoughtful gaze.
"Luring beautiful young children into my home, feeding them delicious meals, then shoving them into the oven so I can feast upon their bones?"
Ciel's lips twitched upward. He wouldn't mind seeing that smile again, he thought. "No, you aren't the witch," he said, shaking his head. "You don't have any sweets."
"Alas," Sebastian mock-sighed. "However will I lure children without sweets?"
"You need to improve your bait," Ciel said. "Children love sweets."
"Noted," Sebastian said with a grin. He lifted his bottle and downed the rest of the beer. "I have to go, otherwise I'll be late."
"All right." Ciel leaned against the back of the sofa.
"Promise you won't go anywhere?"
"Do I have anywhere else to go?"
"True enough." Sebastian grabbed his keycard from the countertop, placed it in his pocket, and turned to go. "I'll see you in the morning."
Ciel nodded and watched him go, not taking his eyes off the black jacket until the man was out the door. The lock clicked shut. The boy took in a long, deep breath. The apartment suddenly seemed much larger, and nowhere near as inviting.
Still, there was work to be done. He pushed himself off the couch, and with a last glance at the door to make sure his host was not returning, Ciel slunk down the hallway.
Sebastian's room was sparse and spartan. The only furniture was a tightly-made bed, a small dresser, and an ornately carved wooden armoire that seemed out of place. Ciel ran his fingertips over the black duvet. It was softer than it seemed.
He decided to search the dresser first. There were no pictures or decorations on top, and inside the drawers he only found neatly folded clothes. With a scowl, he moved on to the armoire.
Floral carvings ran along the length of it, and Ciel almost didn't want to open it. This, somehow, seemed more of an invasion of privacy than going through Sebastian's clothing. Nonetheless, he steeled himself and hooked a finger in one of the metal handles. He pulled gently on it, and when it didn't open immediately, he pulled a little harder. The door gave way with a slight creak, and Ciel glanced behind him, heart racing, as if Sebastian would appear at any moment.
No, he reminded himself; Sebastian was at the theater. He sighed, and opened the other door as well to let in some light.
At first glance, the armoire seemed normal. Two suits hung from a bar which ran across the top, and two pairs of shoes sat perched at the bottom. There were three drawers on the left. Ciel opened the top one. A row of white gloves, identical to the ones Sebastian had worn tonight, lay neat and flat. He closed the drawer with a frown, and opened the middle one.
A row of leather paddles laid there, as neatly arranged as the gloves had been. An empty space on the right suggested that one was missing. Ciel traced the handle of a simple black one on the left, before closing the drawer. So Sebastian was that sort of 'escort,' Ciel thought.
He should stop now, he knew. He was already betraying Sebastian's trust by snooping around in his private things. Or was he? The man had invited him into his home. There was no possible way he could know what kind of person Ciel was. He closed his hand around the handle of the third drawer and opened it slowly.
Two rows of knives glinted in the darkness. Most had matching handles, as if they had come from a kitchen set. Ciel spied a serrated bread knife, a carving knife, and even a carving fork. But most perplexing to him were the four knives in the front.
He lifted one into the light and examined it carefully. There were no identifying marks. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary butter knife, similar to the kind he had used at home.
Ciel frowned. What kind of person kept butter knives in their bedroom? He carefully replaced the cutlery onto its crushed velvet bed, making sure it was facing the same way as the others.
Mind racing, he headed back to the kitchen. He opened and shut three drawers before finding the silverware. There were butter knives here too, though they were different from the ones in the bedroom. In fact, the knives in this set had incredibly ornate handles, as if just for show.
Ciel shut the drawer and crossed his arms. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was still very early. He resolved to question Sebastian once he got home. Would his host be angry that he had gone through his things? No, Ciel decided; there should be no secrets between them, especially if he was going to live with this man for any amount of time.
Mind made up, he took one butter knife from the kitchen, and walked back to Sebastian's bedroom. He opened the bottom drawer in the armoire and took a butter knife from there as well. He sat upon the soft black duvet and set the cutlery beside him. He settled in to wait.
Ciel woke cocooned in a sea of black. The duvet had been carefully tucked in around him, and he had to tug at it to free himself. The butter knives were nowhere to be seen, and a trickle of sunlight streamed in under the door.
He cursed to himself. How could he have possibly fallen asleep?
Tiptoeing so as to not attract Sebastian's attention, he crept to the armoire and opened it as quietly as he could. The bottom drawer slid open with a whisper. The knife was there, laying on its crushed velvet bed, as if it had never been moved.
Ciel cursed again. He closed the armoire, moved to the door, and with a deep breath, he stepped into the hallway.
"Sebastian?" he asked quietly. There was no response. He stepped somewhat guiltily into the living room. "Sebastian, I'm sorry I went through your things."
There was a light snore from the sofa. Ciel peeked over the back and saw a puff of sable hair. "Sebastian?" he whispered again. He moved around to the front of the sofa.
The older man's face was buried in the cushions. His shoulders rose and fell steadily, and he snored softly every few seconds. His dress shirt was unbuttoned, and one shoulder had fallen a few centimeters down his arm, exposing his shoulder blade. Something unfamiliar fluttered in Ciel's chest.
He looked around after a moment. The black suit jacket from last night was nowhere to be seen, so Ciel took the folded blanket from the arm of the couch – the blanket Sebastian had given him two nights ago– and draped it gently over the sleeping man.
He walked back to the kitchen in search of breakfast.
A bowl of sweets had been placed on the counter.