A/N: I. Do. Not. Want to decide about university! *Is running out of time*

*…writes fanfic instead…*

In any case, that's why I'm so slow, in case you wondered. *Doubts that you did*

Also, I added another 6 pages after having it betaed, so any mistakes are my own. This chapter's a little long. Will edit again over the next few days.


oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 7: His master, falling.

Ciel can't sit still. Half a dozen art projects are scattered over every surface in his room—bags of fluff, pillows of plastic pellets clutter his bed, while bolts of ribbon and colored thread are stacked at hazardous angles. He sets his fountain pen to the paper for the fourth time, leaving another blot on an otherwise empty page.

He sighs with disgust.

Before he really decides where he's going, he's clattering down the stairs, still clutching his fountain pen.

"Ciel? Are you going out?" Rachel's voice cuts through the hazy fog of half-understood emotions. "Weren't you working on your portfolio for the London Art University?"

Ciel freezes up for an instant, but then keeps moving for the door.

Whatever words his mother meant to follow are cut off by the solid thunk of the door closing.

Two blocks away from his home, Ciel thinks he ought to have put on a jacket before coming out. How hard is it to say, 'I'm going out to get some air.'he thinks, sighing at his rude departure.

They used to be close, his mother and him. Visions of plush animals and tea parties comes to mind. His mother was insistent on teaching him proper manners, but all the while, she indulged his imagination. Ciel keeps walking, hunched against the wind.

The park at night is quiet. As late as it is, it looks as though no one's ever crossed into it, which is exactly how Ciel wants to see it. So he can brood in silence, staring up at the night sky with one eye covered.

Sebastian's patent leather shoes make a soft click on the path, sounding out only when he's just before Ciel. It's as though he appeared with a gust of wind, but in reality, Ciel's mind was wandering.

Sebastian is half pleased. His smile holds an ironic I knew you would call for me,that he hasn't yet voiced, along with a quiet apology, which he does. "Sorry for keeping you."

Ciel laughs dryly. "I wasn't waiting."

Sebastian is nearly sinister in the half-light. He keeps his distance, and Ciel notices he's wearing white gloves, of all things, but otherwise, is dressed in a smart black suit. "Getting some air?" Sebastian questions, his voice demure and unassuming.

Ciel feels his breath catch in his throat. He feels a slight pang of guilt, remembering his mother, forgotten in her workroom. He pushes the thought from his mind, concentrating on the black figure before him.

A moment passes.

"Air." Ciel repeats vaguely. He doesn't like the weakness in his voice, and it makes his temper flare. "I came here to be alone,you nonce."

Sebastian ignores the insult, as composed as if Ciel never said it. "Did you enjoy your date?" Sebastian's mouth is cruel, a red crescent against his placid features.

"Of course I didn't. That wasn't a date—it was business, " Ciel hisses, barely keeping his teeth from chattering.

"My." In a moment, Sebastian is right next to him—leaning in as he proffers his jacket. "Perhaps our work is not so different…"

Ciel can't stop from shaking. Some of Sebastian's body warmth is still in that thin cloth, though the wind snatches at it even as he leans in. "I—" his teeth chatter. "H-Hardly." With effort, he stills his teeth.

Instead of commenting, Sebastian meets Ciel's gaze. "Did you keep the bracelet, then? Druitt will assume you've accepted his advances." One hand grasps Ciel's, and Sebastian's hand encompasses his wrist with two fingers. "Nice workmanship there…pink-gold roses, wasn't it?"

"I don't need anything so frilly…." Ciel drops his gaze, suddenly self-conscious, even though his wrist is bare.

With the other hand, Sebastian brushes Ciel's cheek. "Then away with it—no more roses at your feet."

Ciel leans away. He turns his face to the woodwork, admiring the geometric design interlaced with flowers. "I suppose you'll be offering me something better?" His voice is dark, bitter.

Sebastian closes in on Ciel. His presence is both warm and inviting, but also unknown. "I could give you the crown…a crown of iron and silver…" He smiles thinly and catches Ciel's chin.

"Don't you mean a crown of roses?" Ciel mocks.

Sebastian's breath is a kiss of warmth. His eyes are mocking, greedy. "A crown of victory is not made of soft petals, Ciel Phantomhive."

"Victory in…." Ciel's eyes narrow, and his mouth thins. The night is too short for mysterious conversations, and the dark looms thick and long around him. He won't have this. "Sorry, Michaelis. I don't understand your meaning."

"Aah, with me at your side…little lord…" Sebastian seems a world away, a voice from the darkness. "What is your wish?" The heady perfume of success, power, and influence wafts from the slender man before him.

Such cunning eyes. Such sharp teeth.

"No."

The silence is heavy.

Now, it's Sebastian holding his breath. His eyes flash darker than Ciel's ever seen them. His teeth flash once—but he merely exhales sharply. And the cold menace Ciel felt in those burning eyes is masked with those mocking—or deceiving—lips.

Sebastian smiles. "I see."

Once again, he's the suave, ironic patron of Undertaker's bookshop café.

He pats Ciel's hand once, and withdraws. "It's past your bedtime, Ciel Phantomhive. Can't have you catching cold at this time of year…" Sebastian buttons his suit-jacket around the frail shoulders, and spins the boy toward the entrance.

Ciel, once again in a fog, can't seem to follow the events.

"Good night, Sebastian…" he mutters, and heads toward home. Sometimes, he really doesn't understand him at all.

Ciel walks quickly, shaking and shivering even with Sebastian's jacket. He's been outside too long, so this lightweight fashionable thing isn't enough to stop him from feeling the biting cold.

What was that about?Ciel's mind is abuzz with mismatched thoughts. His imagination dreams up concoctions of purple shadows and crow's wings, comical devil's tails, and strange, sensual smiles.

He's careful to take a different way home, afraid that Sebastian might try and follow him after all. But all the while, he can't get Sebastian's words out of his mind.

With me at your side…In his thoughts, Sebastian's face is pale as a mask, his mouth a red slash, his eyes dark and burning like dying embers. His soft touches, his gentle voice might seem to spell something completely different from the ominous picture painted in his mind's eye.

What do you wish?That silky voice could tempt the devil himself.

Ciel turns down an unfamiliar street, a narrow strip of asphalt barely wide enough for a single car to pass. Shoulders hunched, he hurries along, turning corners and half jogging before he sees a chemist he recognizes. He Glances about to make sure any figures in the shadows are not watching him.

No grasping hand reaches out of the darkness, nothing so much as stirs as the youth steals a glance in the dark corner.

Just as he steps into the street, Ciel realizes there's something moving in the side of his vision. Just then, sound catches up with him, and the sound of speeding wheels enters his awareness.

Surprise makes his face tense, and his eyes widen. There's barely time to register the car, and though Ciel slows to a stop, he's not fast enough to move out of the way.

Strong arms reach out, knocking the wind from him and yanking him back a fraction of a second before the cab speeds by, honking loudly into the empty street.

With it gone, the night returns to silence. Sebastian doesn't say a word, but of course, Ciel can't keep so calm. His rapidly beating heart, his own breathing seems to snap the night too close.

He's too startled to do much more than watch the backside of the cab. Ciel's breath comes out in uneven gasps.

Sebastian lets Ciel go at last, pushing Ciel back onto the sidewalk with one gloved hand.

Ciel feels the strength leave his legs, along with a light-headed feeling. His eyes dart across the street and back to Sebastian.

"Steady," Sebastian murmurs, putting a hand on Ciel's shoulders. "You're all right." He looks at Ciel closely and frowns. "Take deep breaths."

Ciel nods, and steps quickly away. "I'm fine. It's the weather—" my lungs, he thinks. A rush of confused emotions makes him flush. He can't think straight around Sebastian.

Sebastian looks closely at Ciel, looking for signs of illness or injury, Ciel hopes. He has the strong sense that Sebastian is looking through him. Like Sebastian can see his mixed feelings. Attraction, revulsion, and fascination. Gratitude and curiosity, as well, but those feelings are largely overwhelmed by shock.

Despite all of this, Sebastian only nods coolly, and starts walking down the road without a backward glance.

Ciel breathes in deep, slow breathes. He can't stay here the rest of the night. So he puts one foot in front of the other…and walks on.

There will be time to figure out Sebastian later.


oOoOoOoOoOo

The boy agrees to meet Sebastian at Lau's restaurant. In between the family tables and private booths, costumed waiters and waitresses act their parts—taking orders and walking back to where Lau "oversees" the cooks.

When Sebastian enters Lau's line of sight, he abandons the chefs—much to their relief—and wraps his arm around Sebastian's shoulders. Sebastian just as easily shrugs out of his grip.

"Your little doll is waiting for you. He looks quite peeked…did you want a cocktail with your dinner?"

Sebastian smiles thinly. "Nothing special. Make him some of your milk teas…the sweet ones with tapioca pearls." He shakes his head. "But nothing unordinary, Lao…his father is—"

"Unlike you to be worried about the father…" Lau laughs, but he nods his understanding.

Without another word, he leads Sebastian to where Ciel previews the menu.

"Shall I recommend an entrée?" Lau purrs, just as Sebastian sits down.

Ciel shakes his head tightly. "I—"

"We would enjoy something light, Lau . Also, I would not be pleased if the taste is—"

"Yes, yes—nothing but the best for your little date." Lau laughs. "Please enjoy your meal."

Sebastian and Ciel sit back, and Sebastian speaks quietly about the tea in Lau's establishment. He serves a cup to Ciel, and waits for the young man to open up.

Minutes pass. Ciel says nothing.

Finally, he asks, "Is something bothering you?"

Ciel huffs. "Well, it's just that there's a lot going on recently." He looks at Sebastian out of the corner of his eye, and then decides to study his fingers.

"Family troubles." Sebastian murmurs.

"Yeah…" There's a moment of silence. He looks off to the side. "You know I'll be going to university soon…and, well. There's the family business—the Funtom Company—and my dad expects me to go study business, succeed him, and magically fix the whole mess."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow elegantly, and waits for Ciel to continue.

Ciel does. "It used to be a great, successful company or something…back in the day. My Grandfather started it, and it raised our family's wealth and name. But you know, that was a long time ago. Really, the whole company needs more than a…a fresh 'face' to lead." He leans against the plush cushions, and drums his fingers on the table.

"The moldering bones of a giant company. That's what they expect you to inherit." Sebastian smiles. "And your lovely mother? What does she want?"

"I don't know…"

"Surely you have an idea?"

"I don't understand my mum." Ciel folds in on himself, a small bundle of muscle and bone. Just a like a stubborn child, refusing to take his chores.

Lau returns with the food. As requested, it is a light affair; delicately spiced vegetables, steamed and cut into pretty designs. There's nothing that could upset an already nervous boy's stomach.

Sebastian accepts the chopsticks from Lau , and requests the second tea to come after dinner.

Instead of agreeing, Lau laughs, winking at Ciel. "I'll bring you your desert tea whenever you like, Ciel."

Sebastian shoos him out with a look.

Ciel nibbles at the food. As Sebastian suspected, the boy doesn't have much of an appetite.

"Can we leave?" Ciel asks finally. "I…you're not going to talk to me here, are you?"

Sebastian observes Ciel coolly, but has nothing to say. He smiles over the remainder of their meal, and eventually nods.

Embarrassed, Ciel looks back at the tiny plates, the small amounts of food they haven't touched. He doesn't know what to say. "That is, if you're ready?"

Sebastian folds his napkin. One ironic eyebrow lifts. "Your life is hard. Is that what you want to say?"

The bits of sauce left on the plates seem to make a pattern. Ciel doesn't reply.

"Open your eyes, Ciel Phantomhive." Sebastian doesn't have to lean forward; his presence carries far enough with the intensity of his gaze. "You should appreciate everything you have. Family. Wealth. Influence…."

Ciel scowls. "What wealth? Haven't you noticed where I work?" he snaps. "The only wealth we have left is all for show—mismanagement, Sebastian. And a father who plays his games with stakes too high."

Sebastian's eyes glitter. "Ah, you are so young."

Ciel stops. He thinks desperately about whatever Sebastian could mean—but comes up blank.

"Shall we?" Sebastian gets to his feet.

Time is a blur—with Lau's eyes twinkling as he accepts the payment, and attempts to give Ciel some version of bubble tea that Ran-Mao assures him is 'specially made.' Ciel politely declines, and the whole affair is over with.

He wonders what they would have put in the tea, if anything at all.

Once again, they're walking along the back-ways of a park, out of easy sight and under the canopy of sky... they walk for what seems like an age.

At last, Ciel pulls his hands from his pockets, his fingertips pink with cold. His whole body is heavy, stiff in comparison to Sebastian, who practically reeks of arrogance and certainty.Ciel's breath catches in his throat.

Sebastian looks at the boy—the young man. As he contemplates Ciel, his lips twist into a smile that's not quite right. There's hunger behind his steady gaze, and his hands would betray him. He turns away, hiding them behind his back.

To Ciel, it's obvious. It's time for all uncertainties to be made clear.

The boy leans in forcibly, making himself close the distance between them. As though he could make up for a deficiency in romantic grace with proximity and a certain amount of bravado.

Ah, but there is beauty there. Sebastian observes. He thinks of lips that quirk downward, more likely to frown with spite instead of smile. He remembers the boy's arrogance, his proud manner. His thirst for acknowledgement and that passion for…control?

Ciel manages a small step forward. He touches his cheek to Sebastian's shoulder, leaning there somewhat stiffly. "I wanted to thank you for…that time. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Ciel's hands tremble.

Is it with cold, or nerves?Sebastian wonders, dispassionate.

He reaches around Sebastian, fumbling for his hands—but Sebastian has them clasped tight. Otherwise, the little one might notice. He stands still, watching Ciel as one might watch a bird in flight.

Ciel looks at him, panic rising in his cobalt eyes. He does a remarkable job at holding it in, and pulling away. If just a bit too fast.

At last, Sebastian lazily extends one hand, tousling the boy's hair. "You are…more predictable than I thought, young sir."

Ciel eyes him, embarrassment and anger mixed into his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asks hotly. His cheeks flush red, and then the blood leaves his face. Passions flow quickly in the young Phantomhive, it would seem.

"I have no interest in prey that's easy to catch…" Sebastian murmurs disinterestedly, as though he were commenting on the scenery.

Ciel stares in surprise, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell do I care? It's not like I—" he sputters. He takes several steps away from Sebastian, clearly hurt, and confused. "What's going on in your head?"

Sebastian feels a rush of warmth. Everything is going as planned. A little sugar, a little push…

"Who are you kidding?" Ciel scoffs, his voice full of scorn. "Easy? No way." The young man storms off in a huff.

Sebastian watches him leave, smiling wide. When Ciel seeks him out again, that will be the time. He will fall so easily…maybe he could have Ciel feed from his hands…like a small, helpless animal…or a delightful kitten…

With that future in mind, he turns on his heel. He, too, will have a feast.

oOoOoOoOoOo


Gregory watches the place where the boy had sat, his solemn eyes taking in the details of an ordinary classroom in the way other young men might steal glances at a scene unfolding around them.

The empty space where a desk had been holds his eyes. There. That's where he sat, ignored, (or bullied? His sources couldn't or wouldn't say) by his classmates until the day he jumped off the roof.

Gregory settles into the space, folding his legs under him. He fusses with the clasp of his messenger bag and absently digs out his sketchbook. Charcoal or conté? Conte, he decides, at least for the first impressions.

His hands scribble about the page, broad strokes rendering large portions of the paper a heavy black. A classroom at night, all solitude and awkward fierceness. Gregory sets the page aside and begins another.

Brown terra cotta red mixes to make the actual scene around him—late afternoon sun on neat rows of empty desks. He wonders what to do with the empty space, how to interpret it.

A black and gray ghost of a desk, or maybe even a boy? A black smudge? But no, just leave it empty.

"Hey, what are you doing? This classroom is supposed to be locked! The voice is disgruntled, male. The classroom door slides open. "The school is not open to the public." The voice is somewhat authoritative, but mostly surly. "Who let you in here?"

Gregory registers heavy footsteps down the gangway next to him, but doesn't look up from his work. He sets the page aside and begins another. The view outside the window (very like the photo published next to the newspaper headline. A view of the garden below、a bit of the curtain. In his stark hand, the lines are something out of a gothic comic strip, scenes from a horror story.

The teacher or groundskeeper, whoever he is, stops and stares at the lanky youth sitting on the ground. "What are you doing?"

Gregory looks up to see the middle aged man getting red in the face. He looks back down to the paper, to the conté.

"Sorry sir—I let him in." The trembling, high pitched voice of the day girl that let him in. The girl from the upper sixth…the suicide's classmate. "He was asking about Peter…Sir, he looked so upset, I thought—"

Behind him, the teacher snaps his mouth shut, red giving way to a grayer completion. Gregory adds a few last strokes to the view out the window, and then gets up to examine it in person. He pays the man and his words no mind, taking in the gloomy atmosphere, imagining it when it was hostile, or perhaps indifferent. He imagines the students, trying to fit them into the fragmented and sensational story.

His cell phone rings. It's another of the P4, so he answers it. "Hello?"

The teacher makes an exasperated noise, followed by what might be, "Now see here, young man, this is private property. If you have no business with the school—"

"Where are you?" Bluer's fag, Clayton skips the greeting. "The meeting started fifteen minutes ago. Cheslock is looking all over for you. You're supposed to have information—"

Gregory yawns, and peers out the window again. To the teacher's surprise, he hoists himself up onto the windowsill, and rises slowly to his feet. The last view he saw.

The wind blows, making his fringe tickle his cheeks. "About Sebastian or Ciel?" He asks slowly.

"Not over the phone," Clayton scolds.

"Right." Gregory takes that as a reason to hang up. Clayton or Cheslock will probably call again. It's nearly an hour back to Weston.

Behind him, his sketches swirl on the ground, like dried leaves in autumn. Gregory savors the scene, committing it to memory. He will paint it, he decides. Water color, maybe. Or ink. The lonely death of a sixth former surrounded by his callous peers dominates his thoughts, in spite of the meeting he's missing.

The others will wait.

oOoOoOoOoOo


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