He helped Alois sit up a little and put an extra pillow behind his back. Alois shuddered slightly at the feel of his gloves- so like Claude's- and shook his head quickly when Sebastian inquired whether anything was the matter.
"You do not mind chamomile, I hope?"
Alois wasn't entirely sure he could imbibe anything without being violently and messily ill, but he was thirsty.
...besides, irking anyone was probably not the best of options at the moment.
He sipped tentatively at the tea Sebastian had poured out for him. The heat and flavor were soothing; comforting and familiar, just like Cl- no, Sebastian's was better.
He gave a frenzied, albeit sniffly, giggle.
"Yes?" Sebastian raised a vaguely amused eyebrow.
"Claude's tea tastes like dishwater compared to this," Alois managed. Was he laughing or crying? Perhaps both. "And h-he held the teacup for me like you're d-doing, only he w-w-won't anymore because you k-killed him..."
More hysterical laughter spilled from his lips, dribbling a bit of tea onto his shirt.
"Oh dear…" Sebastian set down the teacup and produced a handkerchief. He gently wiped Alois's face, turned down the collar of his sleep shirt, and turned away to fetch a fresh one. "Perhaps a good night's sleep would do you well. Are you in pain?"
"N-no." Alois wondered vaguely why that was.
"Good. The salve I used was particularly potent." As he spoke, Sebastian helped Alois out of the damp shirt and into the new one. "Is there anything else I can provide you with?"
Alois shook his head slowly. Sebastian removed the extra pillow and helped him to lie down.
"Are you going to tie me up?" the boy asked, in a very small voice.
The demon laughed, like Alois had revealed the punchline to an uncommonly witty joke.
"Heavens no. That would hardly be conducive to your recovery...and I prefer not to use such inelegant methods unless the young master orders it. I have a butler's aesthetic to maintain," Sebastian replied. "Besides, you're still weak from blood loss. I doubt you'd get far if you tried to escape. And assuming you evaded capture, to whom would you run? The gossamer strands that bound you and your devils have all been torn asunder."
Despite his matter-of-fact tone, Alois shivered. The boy's thin arms hugged his frame in a vain effort to dispel the chill that gnawed at him from within.
The demon regarded Alois thoughtfully for a moment before consulting his pocketwatch.
"Ah, that time already. I need to get the young master ready for bed. If you'll excuse me-"
A jolt of panic coursed through Alois like an electric shock, and he sat bolt upright.
"N-no, you can't! Please!"
He grabbed Sebastian's sleeve and hung on for dear life.
"Don't leave!"
I can't be by myself. Not in this strange place…
But Sebastian gently pried the boy's fingers from his coat one by one, as if they were weak as an infant's, and lowered Alois back against his pillow. The butler's grip was not cruel, but it was inescapable. No matter how hard Alois thrashed and squirmed.
"Calm yourself, child. Flailing about in this manner will only worsen your injuries."
"I...I d-don't want to be alone!" Alois whimpered. He looked pleadingly into those impassive brown eyes, whose red undertones shone brighter than before. The demon's gaze softened.
"It won't be for long. I promise to come back and check on you once the young master is settled for the night."
"Promises aren't enough. Swear!" the boy insisted.
These creatures were tricky ones. They knew how to slip through the back alleys and hidden passageways of language, twisting words til they were turned inside-out and wrong way up. Day into night, sugar into salt, living to dead. Maybe this devil in black was lying, and planned to mock his gullibility from the shadows while Alois waited for comfort that never came.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Funny little thing, aren't you?" As though Alois was an errant kitten who'd gotten tangled in a ball of yarn. "But very well. I swear on my honor as a Phantomhive butler that I will return to you before the night is over. Will that suffice?"
Alois relaxed slightly, and nodded. He couldn't blindly put his faith in Ciel's demon, but he knew Sebastian took his position seriously. Even more than Claude did...or used to, before...
"Good night," the butler said. After giving Alois a respectful bow, he saw himself out. Alois buried his face in the pillow, but he heard the barely-perceptible click as Sebastian shut the door behind him. The demon had left a single candle on the nightstand. However, with the butler's calming presence gone, the meager little flame seemed a poor defense against the darkness that suddenly loomed over Alois like a ravenous, hulking beast.
Alone...alone…not again...
The room grew larger, menacing. Phantomhive Manor itself was watching Alois Trancy, the weight of its hostile disapproval pressing down upon this interloper within its domain.
Alois sniffled, lips quivering, and burrowed under the covers.
"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel," he whispered, almost prayerfully. He even believed, at least for a second...but there was no reply.
"Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel," he repeated in a voice cracked and broken from despair.
Silence.
No matter how many times he recited the rhyme that had been equal parts salvation and damnation, neither fairy nor demon would come to his aid. The warp and weft of his tawdry existence, stitched into place with vanished hopes, silver thread, and gilded deceit, had been ripped beyond mending. Burned to ash.
Alois recalled the contempt in Phantomhive's heavenly eye, and shuddered.
How much time had passed? Without a clock, he couldn't tell. What if Sebastian never came, promise or no? And...and Alois had no one at all?
He would not cry not cry not cry
Treacherous tears welled up of their own accord, however, like rain that turns a storm cloud dark with misery.
He let out a gasp as the door creaked open.
"Alois?"
The butler's footsteps rapidly approached, and the blanket was lifted from Alois's trembling frame.
He clenched his teeth and turned his head away. Whatever Ciel thought, he had some pride. Like anything he'd let Sebastian see him cry again.
"What's wrong?" Sebastian asked.
"N-nothing. Why do you care so much, anyway?" Alois snarled. "I thought your lot enjoyed w-watching people suffer."
A lump rose in his throat, and his eyes grew blurry.
"It's simple enough, really: To earn your trust."
Alois's head whipped around, and he fixed the demon in an incredulous stare. There wasn't a trace of irony on Sebastian's face.
"Are you serious?"
"Of course. I suppose you're wondering why a being like me would harbor such altruistic motives. However, the long and short of it is that trusting souls taste better. Convincing you to put your faith in me would be like adding a fragrant note to vintage wine."
Alois wasn't sure if it was the medicine, fatigue, or his own dark sense of humor, but he began to giggle.
"Y-you're being nice to me so that I'll taste better...what a jolly good show!"
Claude had tossed him aside like rubbish at the first whiff of Phantomhive's blood, and here Sebastian was going the extra mile for Alois's soul! It was perverse. S-so…so...funny…
Tears broke free at last, and his hysterical laughter gave way to weeping.
The mattress shifted as Sebastian took a seat on the edge of the bed. Hesitantly, he stroked Alois's hair, until the boy's sobs abated.
While he drew in a shaky breath, Alois reminded himself that the gesture didn't mean anything. Nonetheless, it was comforting, like Sebastian's candor. Humans dressed up their ugly desires in cashmere and silk. Lust slung a string of pearls around her neck and called herself "love"; greed and treachery painted their faces to masquerade as "friendship."
Sebastian was driven by his fiendish hunger, and didn't pretend otherwise. That knowledge gave Alois solid footing amidst the shifting gravel.
"What do souls taste like, anyway?" he mumbled drowsily. His limbs felt heavy as lead, and his eyelids drooped.
"Hmm...I'm not sure any human language has words that accurately describe soul-eating. But different experiences, emotions, vices, or what have you each possess their own unique 'flavor.' Find the right soul, and you can produce a masterpiece."
"'S like those Funtom lollies that are all th' colors of the rainbow," Alois whispered.
"A bit like that, yes," Sebastian chuckled. "It seems you share my young lord's fondness for sweets."
"Mmmhmm," the boy nodded. Then, he looked up at the butler.
"S'bastian?"
"Yes?"
"Could you...sing for me?"
The demon's eyes glowed red in the candlelight. "You want a lullaby?"
"Uh-huh."
Sebastian patted his head. "I know a tune I think you'll like, by one Johannes Brahms."
His voice shimmered like moonlight on the water, making the shadows in the room turn kind. This time, they leaned down not to devour Alois but to embrace him. The melody rocked him to and fro. He'd learned enough German from Claude to understand the gist of it: Roses...lilies...mother close at hand.
"Mam...ma," he whispered as the demon smoothed his bangs and pulled the covers beneath his chin.
And that was the last he remembered of his first evening at Phantomhive Manor.