A/N: I assume you've all read chapter 71. Obviously, I didn't see it coming that Maurice isn't a naturally pretty boy, so this will fall away as a canon element, since I do need his prettiness for the plot. You'll see why. Beta'ing was done by the wonderful Carrie2sky.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 9

Aunt Anne was having a good day.

She woke Ciel up, therefore her grinning red lips were the first thing he saw that morning.

"Wake up, my little model! Today's a big day."

Ciel just stared at her tiredly until he understood that it was Friday, the day of the shooting. He slowly sat up, noticing that there were different sets of clothes lying at the end of the bed.

"I didn't know what you should wear," Anne said, motioning at the clothes. "You're free to choose whatever you want."

Ciel got out of the bed and then went to his wardrobe without wasting another glance at the clothes on his bed. "Your suggestions are very nice but I'd like to choose for myself, Aunt Anne."

She turned around to face him, seemingly offended, but then she exited the room quietly. The boy brushed back his hair and sighed. His gaze fell on the portrait hanging right over his bed. 'Escape' had become rather easy to look at in the last few weeks. Sometimes he still felt a little uneasy when looking at it - and he would certainly not think about it hanging above his head at it after a nightmare had woken him up - but it was getting better to perceive it as a piece of art instead of an actual fire that was soon going to consume him.

And besides, he liked the painting.

When Ciel had his clothes on and when his eye patch was in place, he had a quick breakfast when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Have fun today, it read. At first Ciel didn't know who this was, but the number of people that had his number was pitifully low, which was why he figured out who this must be.

That's the first time you sent me a message.

An accurate observation.

Shouldn't you be on your way to an interview?

Perhaps. I don't know what to wear.

Ciel, his mouth inches away from a slice of toast, halted.

… I see what you did here.

He could see Sebastian's smirk through the message. Well, you're the model, aren't you?

Wear something black. Leave me alone now.

As you wish, my lord.

Ciel shook his head at the phone and put it back into his trousers, quickly finishing his breakfast when Aunt Anne urged him to hurry.

Bard picked him up at the front door. "Got free from school because of this shooting, eh?" He asked, smiling as he looked at Ciel through the rear mirror.

"It's the last day anyway," Ciel answered, shrugging. "It's not that important."

Bard hummed in thought or agreement. "Mind if I play a CD?"

"Classical music?"

"No, man. Hard rock."

Ciel pulled a face but let him listen to what he liked, even if it made the car ride seem a little bit longer and definitely louder than he'd like at ten a.m.

They were silent until they arrived at the given location; it was the largest Faustus store in England, attracting many people on a daily basis. There were already a few customers looking around when Ciel entered, and he was rather taken aback when an assistant approached him, asking whether he was here for the shooting. Ciel was brought behind the cashiers and into an empty white corridor. "You will get your make-up here" - the man pointed at one door – "and change your clothes here." Another door was pointed at. Ciel went into that room and was greeted by a loud exclamation.

"A boy!" Oh goodness, no. Judging from the excitement in the female voice, this promised to be awkward already. "Give me one sec, I'm sure that you will look fabulous in this!"

Before Ciel even caught a glimpse of the woman she was gone again, fetching clothes for him. What he did notice when she returned with her arms full of clothes that she put on the only seat in the room was that she wore suspenders and had a very large bosom.

"I'm Nina Hopkins, and I'm going to make you pretty!"

"Ciel…" the boy offered slowly, feeling the urge to just turn around and go home.

Nina shook his hand and picked out a set of clothes for him. While doing this, she muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'How I love young boys'.

Shortly after saying that she demanded that Ciel take his clothes off.

Suffice to say that the whole changing affair was rather strange.

When his rags – camouflaged as 'outfit' – were in place and his make-up and hair were to another woman's satisfaction (even though it might be dimmed in her case; she'd tried to get Ciel to take off his eye patch, but the boy had stubbornly refused which hadn't made her too happy), he took a flight of stairs that led him into a lower storey. He stopped though once he caught a glimpse of the room.

It was completely black save for two opposite walls that has been coloured in white. The room was large and empty, likely the size of the ballroom in the Michaelis Estate. The silver-haired photographer and his apprentice – Undertaker and Gregory – were setting up the lights and the camera, two sets, observed by Claude Faustus himself who had apparently let Alois come with him today. The boy was leaning against the man's front, Claude's forearms lightly resting on his ward's shoulders. The pose reminded Ciel of the few minutes he'd spent alone with Sebastian at his birthday. The artist had managed to make him feel all right with being close to him.

Next to Claude and Alois was Maurice who leaned against the white wall and examined his fingernails. When he spotted Ciel, he stared for a while before simply returning to his nails. There was also another model standing next to Gregory as the apprentice was setting up the lamps, talking in very low tones. Ciel had been forced to watch the celebrity news with his aunt often enough to recognize the man as Lawrence Bluer, a well-known Faustus model. He wasn't the main representative of the brand as Edgar was, but he was quite close. While Ciel was wearing green and black rags along with more tatters of clothes bearing a pattern that looked suspiciously like a leopard print, Lawrence was dressed in more elegant yet modestly colourful clothing. Maurice also was wearing a similar style to Lawrence's.

Claude spotted Ciel and the boy realized that he was still standing on the stairs. Way to go, he thought dryly, but then decided that it didn't matter. However, he should perhaps move now that Claude had seen him. Approaching the designer, he settled for a friendly smile. Claude extended an arm past Alois who grinned widely (falsely) at him. He was wearing those awfully short shorts again. Now that it had become even colder, he wore the shorts with stockings that only left a stripe of naked flesh visible.

Shaking the designer's hand, Ciel listened to what was going to happen. Everybody was basically waiting for Edgar who was still having his hair done. It didn't strike Ciel as unfitting; Edgar seemed to be the type to make people wait when he knew that he could afford it.

"Our little nobleman is here~," Undertaker chimed, having set up his camera and the lights, thus having nothing else to do.

Ciel blinked. "Me?"

"Yes, you!" He pointed at him, turning to his apprentice who must have some kind of a sensor for when Undertaker was addressing him. He always looked up in the right moment. Ciel had witnessed this behaviour at the birthday party and it had made him very uncomfortable back then.

Not that he was ever going to show it.

"He looks like a nobleman, doesn't he, Greggie?"

'Greggie' shot a lazy look at Ciel. "I don't know." Which – and even Ciel as an outsider noticed it – could easily be translated as 'I don't care'.

Undertaker either noticed it or didn't, but he giggled, which probably meant that he had understood.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long!" somebody called from the top of the stairs.

"Enter Queen Edgar," Lawrence said from somewhere next to Gregory. Alois snorted. Maurice stared.

Claude's expression didn't change at all. "Please get down here and get to work."

Edgar gracefully came down the steps, making his ragged attire and messy hair look oddly sophisticated. "Oh, you didn't tell me that you were going to be here today, Claude."

"We do have a beginner here."

Edgar nodded, then wanted to greet Alois who glared at him, unseen by Claude, since he was standing behind the teen and giving instructions. The model's smile faltered a little bit while Maurice approached him from the left, just flanking him like he usually did.

Upon looking up from Alois, Edgar's attention was focussed elsewhere. Ciel saw exactly how Edgar's smile widened, lost a great deal of subtlety and became blatantly seductive as he sauntered over to the other bespectacled man in that room. "Lawrence, long time no see. How was Tokyo?"

"Tokyo had a decent lack of Edgar Redmond," Lawrence replied but didn't step aside when Edgar hugged him.

"So you missed me."

Lawrence's arms closed around Edgar's body. "Not at all."

Somebody chuckled as Edgar's jaw dropped in a mockery of shock.

(And Maurice, Ciel noticed, was watching the pair calmly, appearing very composed and eerily quiet. He could be about to implode.)

The two models let go of each other when Claude cleared his throat audibly. "We just don't see each other that often," Edgar said to Ciel as he came to stand next to him. "I need to pay him some attention since he's so love-struck."

Lawrence rolled his eyes. "You're just like your brother."

As Edgar had wrapped an offending arm around Ciel's shoulders, nobody but him noticed the stiffening of the model's body.

"That's not true," Claude drawled. Alois was currently playing with his guardian's hands, and Ciel couldn't help but notice the black nails. Claude and Sebastian did share some things even though they couldn't stand each other. "He doesn't talk nearly as much as the Viscount…" There was a pause in which he just let Alois further inspect his fingers. In the end, he interlaced his with the boy's and that was the end of the inspection. With his free hand, the designer waved the models closer. "A few words about this collection. I hope you have all noticed the theme of this one."

Silence. Everybody looked at their clothes.

"Spring?" Undertaker offered from where he stood as Gregory drank out of his water bottle with a straw.

Edgar cleared his throat. "I think it's hard to find a theme that this" – he pointed at his messy and mostly black attire – "and this" – he waved his hand at Lawrence's more colourful and elegant clothing – "have in common."

Claude carefully pushed Alois aside and grabbed Ciel by the chin, pulling him a little closer and tilting his head back in the same time. The boy's first instinct was to struggle, but when nothing further happened, he held it back. It was just very uncomfortable to be forced to look into Claude's eyes. The man smelled of expensive cologne, mint and newly-bought clothes. "This is the theme of the collection," the designer said.

"The kid?" Maurice asked sceptically.

"No, his eye."

Alois reattached himself to Claude's shoulder, glaring at the other boy. "I don't see anything."

Claude let another uncomfortable moment pass before turning Ciel around so that the rest also had a chance at gawking at him. "It's this look that represents the whole collection. Spring signifies the beginning of new life. I allowed myself to play with this theme. Hence, the boy fits well into this collection." A gloved finger appeared in the corner of Ciel's vision, pointing at his eye. "We're talking about the past and future. About being haunted and healing. About the need to live, the determination. This is a survivor. Be like him." He turned Ciel back, his eyes cutting into the boy's soul. "I'm sure you've been hurt tremendously once, haven't you?"

Ciel remained quiet. Under the eye patch, his eye was itching.

"Well, if you and Edgar would please go to the black wall" – Claude extended a hand and pointed at another set at the other end of the room – "then we can begin."

Gregory followed them while Undertaker called for Maurice and Lawrence to come to him.

When they stood in front of the camera Edgar winked at Ciel who had no idea about what he was supposed to do now. "Well, cutie pie, I hope you're a fast learner…"

OOO

After strenuous hours at the set, after four changes of clothes, make-up and hairdo; after hundreds of pictures, Edgar's touches, close nausea and Maurice's glares; after having heard Alois talk for hours as if trying to make up for his wordless few minutes at the beginning of the day, Ciel was finally allowed to leave. He changed back into his own clothes, deciding that he could still wash off the make-up at home. Edgar's arms and hands must have been imprinted on his body by now since they had been on him so often that there was barely a place on his torso that the blond hadn't touched.

It was mildly disturbing.

But looking back, Ciel noticed that while the touches had become way too much, he'd never lost control over himself. There had been no flashbacks at all caused by any kind of contact. He'd done well.

However, he didn't have to do this experience again. He wasn't going to model for anyone again.

Ever.

(Except for Sebastian.)

Upon leaving the changing room and having said his goodbyes to Nina (she kindly enough always turned around when Ciel had changed his clothes, a privilege that other boys and girls/women perhaps didn't have), Ciel decided that he wouldn't call Bard yet. He could still walk around the city, look around a bit, just relax (and buy himself something to eat). But first he had to tend to other needs, namely his bladder, so he quickly sought out the staff's restrooms in the corridors.

He didn't notice the green-eyed model with blond curly hair that hummed in thought and then left the corridor.

When he was washing his hands, Claude entered. He'd taken off his jacket under which he was wearing a regular black (tight-fitting) shirt. He looked at Ciel, then around the small room, and then stood in front of the mirror and started playing with strands of his hair, trying to twist them into the right place.

Ciel was still wondering where Alois had been left. Claude looked as if he'd lost half of his body without Alois clinging to him as if someone's life depended on it.

"You did a good job today," Claude said. "I'm sure we'll have enough useful pictures. Everything has been discussed with your aunt, and you will probably have a certain amount of money added to your account in a few weeks."

Drying his hands, Ciel thanked him.

"Oh, no," Claude said, "I should be thanking you for lending us your face and body."

This sounded wrong on so many levels. Ciel tensed, but Claude didn't seem to notice, he just styled his hair as his gaze crept over to Ciel once in a while. "You're his new muse, aren't you?"

"Whose?"

"My cousin's, of course." Had Claude been any other man, Ciel was sure he would have rolled his eyes.

Ciel remembered that Claude had been one, too. Sebastian and he hadn't hated each other until something happened that perhaps was connected to Claude having been his muse. Something in the air shifted, and when Ciel answered with 'Yes', Claude's eyes darkened. The designer nodded as if he never expected anything else, but a little smile was pulling at his lips, telling Ciel that this was not good.

"I don't know what exactly happened to you in that month," Claude said, leaning his hip against the edge of the sink, "but I'm good at observing people, so I have an adequate guess. You've been showing signs…"

"Signs?" Ciel asked carefully, having this very uncomfortable feeling that things were only going downhill from here. He tried to concentrate on breathing normally -

(but he's experienced all of this before and he knew where this was leading and this was badsobad -)

-when Claude advanced on him. Ciel didn't chance a look at the door, feeling that this would give him away immediately.

"You've been broken," Claude said, "and patched together mediocrely. But nevertheless, you let yourself be found by somebody like Sebastian Michaelis, who likes his things broken or breakable. One would think you'd be more careful after whatever abuse you've experienced." He waited here, as if daring Ciel to contradict him, to tell him that his assumptions were wrong, but Ciel was too busy on breathing and controlling any outward signs of anxiety that he couldn't muster up enough concentration to speak properly. "One would think you wouldn't run into the next person to break you all over again. There are a few things about my cousin the world doesn't know about. His muses, for example. He knowingly drove them into suicide. You should be careful."

"Aren't you alive?" Ciel finally asked, his voice threatening to break as Claude inched closer yet.

"I am. But I cannot say the same about the others."

At this Ciel bolted, trying to get to the door and out of the building. A strong hand grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back and in the next moment, Claude was turning a key in the lock and smiled at him.

"I'm dying to know what's beneath that silken eye patch of yours."

Dun dun DUUUUN.

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