"So… are we just not going to talk about this?" asked Private Withers to the silent table in the mess hall. No one spoke since the lecture and merely focused their attention on trying to eat. Of course they wanted to talk about what their commanding officer had just told them, but they didn't know what to say.
"Nobody knows where to start." said Danlaw. "We all knew that the boss was hardcore, but this? This is..."
"Some next level fuckery." continued Private Young. "Cultists?! It's insane..."
"Sir Phantomhive wouldn't lie about-"
"I'm not saying he's a liar, Solomon! I'm saying that it's fucking nuts! How do you even-?! How do you even come back from that? You hear about those Satanic cults… They're… They're… Fuck, I can't even think of a word!"
"Yeah, have you ever looked into those?" questioned Timothy. With a queasy look about him, he set down his fork and nudged his plate away from himself. "It's some of the most fucked up shit you've ever heard in your life… I'm actually kind of glad that he didn't go into any details..."
"You should eat, Tim. We've still got physical training after this." gently stated Jason, who tried his best to stomach his own food. He looked the sickest of all of them there. After all, he was the father of a young child, himself. He didn't want to even think about the possibilities.
Looking down at his own plate, Clancy sighed. "We don't know anything at all about the boss, do we?" Having said that, he caused the others to look up at him. It was no secret that all of them respected and admired their commanding officer, but Private Peterson saying this was particularly troubling, as many suspected that he didn't simply "admire" Sir Phantomhive in the same way that they did. He was right, though. What did they really know? "He's always trying to help us become tough soldiers who know what the hell we're doing. He talks to us one-on-one all the time about what we're going to do after this and what we want out of this, but what about him? What else about him don't we know?"
All of them sat there quietly as they reflected on this thought. Did the Phantomhive simply never talk about himself much, or did they not think to ask? They knew that he was married to a man, that he came from a wealthy family with a butler, and that he was an experienced soldier, but the rest of him was sort of an enigma. He said so himself, didn't he? "I have a life outside of camp, you know." What was that like?
"Does it really matter?" inquired Private Henderson, finally breaking the silence. "He's not here to be our friend. He's here to tell us what to do. He probably doesn't say anything on purpose."
"Would you if you had that kind of baggage?" answered Private Danlaw with a question of his own.
"Fuck no. I don't get why he said anything, either."
"Isn't it because you wanted him to?" asked Timothy, causing eyebrows to raise. "You didn't believe him when he said he's never been normal, and you said that 'it can't be that bad' when he said it made him uncomfortable."
"Are you seriously blaming me?" scoffed Henderson, despite not looking the others in the eyes. "What about Kidman? He encouraged him, too."
"You know that's not what happened." Private Joseph Kidman accused with a furrowed brow. "I told him that we wouldn't think less of him for telling us."
"Same difference."
"No, it isn't."
"Who cares?! What happened, happened. We should all just get over it."
"The boss is way too lenient on you." muttered Kidman. "He ought to have kicked your arse by now..."
"What was that?!" Demanded Carl. "I'm the one who gets punished more than anybody!"
"That's because you refuse to listen to instruction no matter what he does." spoke Private "Not-Nice" Bryce Withers. "He's trying to keep you from getting yourself killed on your first mission, but obviously, you're just plain suicidal. There's not much point in wasting time on you, if you ask me. I feel bad for whatever team that gets stuck with you."
"I don't listen because he's an arsehole!" shouted Private Henderson. "Maybe if he wouldn't be such a fucking cunt about it, then I'd listen to him!"
"You don't listen when he's nice, you don't listen when he's mean. You think you know everything about everything!" scoffed Clancy, finally fed up with the problem student's antics. "You're always going on and on about how we should be doing things, even though your ideas are bloody stupid. You think you're so much smarter and better than everybody and that you're just gonna run in on your first mission and become a war hero or some shit."
"I say stuff because I know stuff!" To that, the other's shook their heads and rolled their eyes, causing Carl's frown to deepen. "We'll, sorry for not wanting to bend over for the queer in chief! What the fuck do you have to complain about, Clancy? It's not like he ever punishes you!"
"Because I don't go out of my way to do stupid shit? And I have gotten punished before!"
"Scuffed up knees isn't a punishment. It'd probably make him feel better about his fucked up childhood."
Narrowing his eyes, Private Peterson glared at the other from the other side of the table. "Just what are you getting at?"
With a smug expression, Carl leaned in closer. "What I'm saying is: Maybe the reason you don't get in any trouble with 'Sir' Phantomhive is because you're always trying to suck. His. Cock."
There was a moment of pause while the table gawked at what their compatriot had just said. Jaws dropped as eyes traveled from Clancy, to Carl, and then back to Clancy again, waiting to see what Private Peterson was going to do next. Then, without warning, he stood up, placing his foot on the table and lunged forward at Private Henderson, forcing him to fall backwards onto the ground. Fists were flying on both sides as the other recruits moved to separate them, but neither of them could back down. Clancy had to defend his honour as a proud, gay man, while Carl couldn't let himself be beaten and forced to surrender to a "queer." During the scuffle, Private Young had fled the mess hall and rushed to the office of the commanding officer.
Wrapping on the door, the man called out to him. "Sir Phantomhive! Sir Phantomhive! Clancy and Carl are fighting in the mess!" he said. Within a few seconds, the door was unlocked and Ciel stepped out with his cellphone in hand.
"Lead the way." the Watchdog ordered, following Private Young down the hall. He then turned his attention back to his cellphone.
"I'm so sorry, darling, but something's come up. I need to take care of it." he said to his spouse on the other end. "I'll talk to you when I get home... I love you, too... Bye-bye."
In a matter of moments, the door to the mess hall swung open and the demon came in like a storm. Wallace stood back as his commanding officer walked up to the crowd that had formed around the combatants, only to find that they had been pried apart and held back by their comrades. They were still shouting insults by the time Ciel approached them, but once the Watchdog stepped into view, all of them froze. Every last recruit stood there, wide-eyed at the visibly furious Phantomhive and finally, both Henderson and Peterson relaxed and no longer required being held by the others.
"You two. Out on the parade square. Now." Ciel did not yell at them. He did not raise his voice in the slightest. The chilling calmness of it cause a shiver to run down both of their spines as the very hesitantly did as they were told. "The rest of you stay here and finish your lunch."
Then, he turned to walk out as well, leaving the rest of the group worried for their comrades' safety. Mostly Clancy's. Before he, Carl, or Ciel reached the door, the Phantomhive put a hand on the back of both lads and began pushing them so that they would walk faster. Once they were outside, he gave them one last shove before he turned around to slam the mess hall door, shaking the wall so that a picture frame fell.
Turning back to face the two combatants, the Phantomhive caused them both to jump. "Both of you, squat against the wall." he ordered. "Peterson, you go over there. Henderson, you go on the other side." Immediately, Clancy did as he was told, but Carl, like always, was reluctant. "Henderson! Do I need to repeat myself?"
"Peterson attacked me!" Carl protested with a slight whine to his tone. "Why am I being punished!? I was defending myself!"
Turning his head, Ciel asked of Private Peterson: "Is this true, private?"
"Yes, sir!" confessed Clancy.
"Why?!"
"Henderson was saying homophobic things about me again, sir." informed the Private, pausing as he shifted his weight so that he wouldn't fall. "He accused me of…" He looked down with a blush. "Of..."
"What did he accuse you of, Clancy?" Ciel questioned, lowering his volume, somewhat.
"He accused me of exchanging sexual favours for an easier time at camp, sir!" It was embarrassing to think about and even more so to say to the Private's commanding officer. Clancy had confessed to the others previously that he thought that the man was rather attractive and that if he weren't married, he might have considered pursuing him, but never had he ever considered the thought of doing something so low. Slowly, the bluenette looked back to Carl.
"Is this true, Private Henderson?" the Phantomhive inquired, but Carl did not reply right away. He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak, but then closing it again. Little did he know that the absence of an answer was indeed an answer, itself.
"Private Henderson, I have no idea what to do with you." Ciel continued. "You refuse to listen to instruction no matter what I try. I've been tough, I've been soft, yet still, you remain determined. What is it that I can do to make training work for you?"
"Well… You're very harsh..." Carl mumbled, not meeting the other's eyes. "You act like you know everything and like we're idiots..."
"Henderson, I have practical knowledge that will help you. I'm telling you these things because you don't know them so that you can have a better understanding. It has nothing to do with intelligence in the slightest."
"But we're always wrong!"
"That's because you are wrong." Ciel stated. "What am I meant to do when you make a mistake? Let you continue to believe a falsehood that could get you killed? Pardon me, Private, but I'm starting to think that this doesn't have much to do with wrong versus right in the slightest."
"You could be positive for a change..." grumbled the other man.
"Right. Well, next time you make a mistake, I'll pat you on the head and tell you what a good job you're doing. As long as you knot that when you get eaten by a horde of ghouls, this is what you asked for." scoffed the bluenette. "That's what you want, isn't it? You don't seem to accept any input that doesn't reaffirm your own beliefs or strokes your ego. Even if it is detrimental to your best interests! And don't think I don't know for a fact that telling you all of this won't change a single thing. You'll just go back in there and complain that I've singled you out and am trying to humiliate you or whatnot, because it's never ever your fault. The lessons aren't hard because you don't pay attention, it's because they're wrong and you're right. Your comrades aren't mean to you because you've done everything you can to alienate them. They're just jealous because you're so much smarter than them. I'm not on your case because I'm a seasoned soldier who is trying to help you not get killed. I just hate you, obviously. The world is simply out to get poor Carl Henderson because it hates him for no good reason. That about right?"
Carl said nothing in response. He couldn't. There was nothing more he could say. Instead, he just stood there and fumed, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palm and his knuckles turned white. They shook at his sides as he stared down at his feet, his frown deepening with each passing moment. Private Henderson wanted it to be clear that he's angry at his commanding officer. Without anything to say, he had no choice but to put up a tough front to show his displeasure.
Sighing, Ciel had to use every ounce of restraint not to roll his eye at the display. "Why are your fists shaking, private?"
"So I don't do something I regret." Carl huffed, his breath growing heavier with each inhale.
"What might you do?"
"Something, sir."
"What? Like hit me?" Folding his arms, Ciel leaned closer. "I don't think you could. You couldn't even confess your wrongdoings. If you are that cowardly, how can you possibly swing at someone you know would get you in serious trouble?"
BAM! Once again, the Phantomhive had hit the nail on the head. Now, Carl had only two options. One, he could drop the act and admit that he was wrong and that everything that Ciel had said was true, but that would involve changing and he could not be seen as so weak. That was surrendering and relinquishing control to the Phantomhive. It was reaffirming that Ciel Phantomhive was indeed, the alpha of the group, which Carl could not stand for. Thus, he chose his other option, and that was to dig in and stand firm in his posturing.
"I see..." the Phantomhive said with a glint in his eye. Finally, at long last, he understood. He understood Carl Henderson and he knew what he had to do. Merely pointing out the truth was not enough to bring about any change. Instead, he was left with no other option but to call his bluff.
"Private Peterson!" Ciel called out.
"Yes, sir?" Clancy answered.
"Go get the others and bring them out here. It would appear that Henderson wants a fight." With that, Clancy stood, his eyes wide as he had an idea as to how this was going to end. "Go!"
"Sir, yes sir!" Peterson replied, scurrying to the mess hall doors and swinging them open. Meanwhile, Carl stood there in shock as he realised what he had just done. He prayed that the Phantomhive was bluffing, but no such luck was to be found. Once the others were outside, Ciel removed his hat and held it out along with his riding crop.
"Someone hold this." Ciel said, and with some hesitance, Private Withers stepped out and took both items from his boss before rejoining the crowd. All of them were deeply afraid for Carl's safety, but no one was quite so scared as Carl.
Now, one could assume that the man could simply decline, but he couldn't. Not anymore. He dug this grave by sticking to his guns and now it was time to lie in it. Private Henderson couldn't back down in front of the others. It would strip him of whatever status he had as a man.
"Let me sweeten the deal for you." Ciel continued. "If you win, I'll graduate you right now and you'll be a full-fledged member of the HELLSING Organisation. But, if I win, you'll have to concede that I am your leader and I know what's best. Sound reasonable?"
How could Carl refuse? Even if he wasn't entirely confident that he could beat the Phantomhive, it grew enough that he was crazy enough to try. Suddenly, his fists stopped shaking and he took a fighting stance.
"Sounds good to me!" he declared.
"May the better man win." the other said. "Come at me, if you think you're worthy of being top dog!"
After a moment of hesitation, Carl stepped forward with a wide swing of his fist. Yet, the bluenette ducked and taking a wide stance, he punched the other man in the gut. Despite the fact that it was an incredibly light blow for the Phantomhive, it still knocked the wind out of Henderson, causing him to double over and take a few steps back. Standing up straight, the bluenette clicked his tongue.
"I thought you already knew how to fight, given your attitude in hand-to-hand combat class." he said. "Do I need to give you a free shot? Here, come on. See if you can give me a black eye to go with my eyepatch."
Forcing himself upright, Henderson grunted as he tried to resume his rather improper stance. His plan was simple: Abuse Ciel's arrogance and get in several punches to the face before he could react. Thus, he tried again. Clenching his fist as hard as he could, he cocked it back before releasing it again, hitting the Phantomhive square in the face. Yet, the expression on his face remained, much to Carl's horror. He didn't even flinch! In fact, if anyone was hurt in the exchange, it was Carl himself. He had punched the other man as hard as he could and hurt his fist in the process. Ciel was completely solid. Rather, his bones were. The cheekbone is one of the hardest parts of the human skull, yet Private Henderson decided it was a good idea to punch a demon there.
"My turn." the bluenette replied, causing Carl's eyes to widen. Before he react, Ciel's fist had struck his nose, causing blood to gush out of his nostrils and for everything to fade to black. Now unconscious, Carl fell onto the ground. Looking down at him, the Phantomhive tutted before walking over to Private withers to take back his belongings. After putting on his hat, he said: "I'm going to contact the medic. Could someone volunteer to watch him? You should never just leave someone who's knocked out. Furthermore, he's got a broken nose, as well, so if he graduates, it'll be in a cast, I'm afraid. As for the rest of you, enjoy this momentary recess until we get him taken care of."
Every single recruit was on their absolute best behaviour for the rest of the day. They knew that Ciel was tough. They knew that if they acted up particularly badly, they might get swatted with his riding crop. They didn't, however, anticipate that he might knock a recruit out with his fist. As for Carl, he needed to stay in the medical wing until he woke up. When Ciel returned to his troops, he informed them that he had no damage done to him beyond a broken nose. Henderson would be wearing a cast for it it throughout the rest of boot camp. It wasn't anticipated that it might get in his way of completing the course, but they would have to be careful with it.
"He got what was coming to him." said Bryce as the crew was cleaning the barracks before supper. Apart from Private Henderson's outburst, the day progressed rather normally. They all did their exercises and drills before they were given time to prepare for the next day, just like usual. "He was an idiot for picking a fight with the boss. I dunno if he really thought that he could beat him, or if it was just a bluff to look tough, but it was fucking stupid, either way."
"Sir Phantomhive is about that life..." added Braumfeld. "I wonder if there was a way he could've blocked that..."
"Probably, but Henderson never pays attention in hand-to-hand. Before the end of it, we're all gonna have to give him a refresher course so he won't die..." suggested Private Young, earning a scoff from Bryce.
"As if that'll work." Private Withers said while mopping the floor. "He doesn't listen to anybody."
"Yeah, I gotta agree with Bryce on that one..." Kidman agreed while dusting the tops of the lockers. "I'm kinda skeptical to believe that getting decked by the boss is gonna actually knock any sense into him. He's probably just gonna blame it on a sucker punch or something."
"He literally warned him. How is that a sucker punch?"
"Like that will stop him from using it as an excuse!" Joseph laughed before moving on to the next locker.
"The real question is, though," began Private Danlaw rather seriously, "How are we going to deal with him when he gets back? Do we just leave him to do whatever, or do we actually try to help him? Right now, helping him seems useless, but you never know. Maybe getting punched did change his mind, somehow?"
There was silence, as hope grew more and more slim by the second. They were hesitant to hope and even opposed to it, as it was just as their commanding officer had said. Private Carl Henderson, from the moment he walked through those gates, had done absolutely everything in his power to alienate himself from the group. He attacked people for practically everything that was different from himself. He was very obviously afraid and posed and postured to hide it. Sadly, the private wasn't even very good at that. Carl's posturing had backfired when he met someone who didn't hesitate to strike him down. It was the first time it had happened to him, but at this rate, it wasn't going to be the last. There were all kinds at HELLSING, including people who were as resilient and brutal as Ciel. Perhaps, they wouldn't be as kind, either. Something told the recruits that the bluenette had definitely held back when he struck their comrade, raising even more questions.
Just as they were wondering what to do with their comrade, however, the door swung open. There stood Carl Henderson with an ugly-looking cast on his nose. His brow was furrowed and his face was fixed in a scowl. Visibly, he was angry, but there was an oddly serene air about him that none of them could place. Silently, he walked into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. Once he was in front of his bed, he finally snapped.
"The fuck are all of you idiots lookin' at?!" he barked, reminding everyone that they were staring. Quickly, they turned their heads and got back to work, having felt as though their suspicions had been answered. Yet, Carl wasn't done yet. "Peterson!" he called out, causing the other man to jump.
Instead of answering him right away, Clancy stood, mulling over whether to try and ignore the other man or not. Instinctively, his head turned slightly, only for him to catch himself before he could face Henderson and correct the position so that he was instead looking at what he was doing. He actually couldn't believe that he fought him before, but right then, the gravity of his actions had begun to sink in. Wordlessly, he continued shining the boot in his hand while avoiding what was bothering him, but Private Henderson was persistent.
"You attack me and then ignore me? What the fuck, man? Fine, I won't apologise or nothin', then. Just wanted to know if all queers punch people or what. See if I care."
Blinking, Private Peterson wondered how to react to that. He couldn't think of anything witty. He couldn't think of anything deep. He couldn't conjure a heartfelt explanation as to why he was hurt by the other man's words, either. Instead, what came out of his mouth was: "Spartans encouraged same-sex relationships, you know."
"Huh?"
"The idea was that soldiers would fight harder to protect their lovers than their friends, so the Spartans were gay."
"I'm not gonna fuck or be fucked by anybody here, Peterson." Private Henderson replied, although shockingly, his voice didn't contain any of it's usual malice.
"You're not pretty enough, anyway."
Henderson couldn't even get mad at that, even though he was insulted. It was a perplexing situation to be in for him, but then again, everything about his life now was unusual. He could either adapt and work with it, or he could reject it. In turn, however, life would reject him right back.
None of them saw their commanding officer since training ceased for the day, leaving the corporals to tend to the troops and discipline them if they acted up. Their leader excused himself early so that he could rush home and check on his spouse. Much to his dismay, he had to cut their conversation on the phone short due to the situation, despite the fact that he knew his husband wasn't feeling well. While Alois never said it outright, Ciel knew. He could hear it in his voice.
Alois, on the other hand, was surprised to see the car that HELLSING offered to transport the bluenette in appear earlier than usual. While the wind whipped at his cheeks from his place on high, he glanced at his wrist to check the time, only to realise that he hadn't brought it up on the roof with him. The menace wanted to be alone for a while, but couldn't stand another moment of being inside the mansion, so he retreated to above it. There were times when the house bothered him, although he couldn't disrespect it to his husband's face. It's long corridors and vacant rooms almost seemed oppressive, in his darker moments, but when he was happy, they seemed like a dream come true. What a terribly confusing mess to be in.
But, that was his status right at that moment. That had been his status for a while, actually. His emotions swirled and churned so that he wasn't quite sure what he felt anymore. All he knew was that he didn't like it.
He watched as the bluenette looked up at him before offering his spouse a wave. Alois wasn't sure if it could be seen, but it was the thought that mattered. It was dark and they were far apart from each other. Then, the bluenette lowered his gaze and walked inside, leaving Alois alone again.
The estate was large, so the menace could see out quite a ways before the property ended. It had shrunk considerably over the years through various means. Property was sold, rented, or even seized, so the landscape had changed. Not that Alois would have noticed any differences. This was the only view he knew. It was still lovely, all the same. The lawn was beautiful, despite being illuminated only by lights along the driveway. It was a lonely trail through the darkness that seemed otherworldly in the way it glowed. It was like a link from the house to the rest of the world. If one fell into the blackness, would they ever come out again?
Probably. Alois closed his eyes with a long sigh, shivering as a slightly stronger gust of wind howled, chilling him. When he opened them again, he sensed a familiar presence behind him.
"Evening." called his husband, prompting the blonde to turn around. Ciel had changed out of his uniform into something much more casual, but still warm. In his hands, he held a scarf. "It's cold tonight."
"It's almost November." the menace replied. "Halloween's in a few days."
"Did you want to go to Gehenna and join the festivities?" Ciel questioned, walking over to the other man. Without saying anything of it, he gently wrapped the scarf around his beau's neck and fastened it.
"Not really." Reaching a hand up, Alois touched the garment and sighed again. Upon inhaling, he noticed something about it. "This is yours." he observed.
"I didn't know where you kept your own." the Watchdog lied. "Were you thinking up here?"
"Sort of. Maybe more like trying to clear my head?"
"Is it working?"
"Debatable. I feel like shit. Just like this ball of… negative energy." Alois clasped his hands together before miming the shape of a ball, shaking the invisible object in an aggressive fashion. "I feel like I'm gonna explode eventually. Or... implode… Whichever comes first."
With a concerned look on his face, Ciel tried to search for what he needed to say to his husband, but all that came out was: "Did the mission not go over well?"
"It did… or… didn't?" the menace seemed unsure. "From a 'success versus failure' standpoint, it went well, but… I dunno… Killing people usually isn't that hard- not that killing him was the hard part at all- he died pretty easily… It's the- the shittiness I feel about it that bothers me."
"Remorse?" Ciel confusedly asked, finding sympathy for the kind of person the target was to be incredibly uncharacteristic of the blonde.
"No, not at all. I don't regret killing him. Not one bit. Scum like that should all die. Killing him is basically community service." The menace paused, folding his arms to keep himself a bit warmer. "It just… It wasn't a clean kill. If it was for anything else, I would've gotten in and out no problem. They're never going to get those stains out, now, though… The splatter marks are unreal…"
Uncomfortably, he let out a sigh. Looking directly at his beau, he said: "I went apeshit, okay? I completely lost it and stabbed him. A lot. He was probably already dead before I snapped back out of it."
Reaching out, Ciel gently grabbed his shoulders. One of his hands lowered to rub Alois' bicep in an attempt to comfort him. Then, his hands traveled downward, running along the lengths of his husband's arms before stopping at his hands. He held them and was surprised at how cold they were.
"It's alright." the bluenette softly said. "It's going to be alright."
"I don't know." Alois replied, answering a question that his spouse hadn't even asked. Lowering his head, he looked at Ciel's feet. "I'm just… I feel so… I dunno..."
Alois didn't need to be told that everything would be fine. Not even he knew what he needed, so anyone's guess was as good as his husband's. Still, Ciel placed a kiss to the man's forehead before resting his own against it.
"How do you feel?" Ciel questioned. "Just say it the best you can. It doesn't matter how precise you are."
"I dunno… Angry? I'm just so… fucking pissed off. I didn't want to just kill the bastard, I wanted to hurt him. He was waiting on a prostitute! It's not like there's no awareness about how trafficking people fucks them up and ruins lives, he knows! He fucking knows, but… He just didn't care… He was more important- More important than any of them… Those women… Those kids… People like that actually get off on the hell on earth they create and if they would all just fucking die, the world would be a much better place!"
The more Alois talked, the faster and louder he spoke. All until he reached a crescendo of grit teeth and snarling, only to result in nothing. It fizzled out as the menace's mind caught up with him, causing his voice to soften.
"When I was there and saw him, I just couldn't stand it." the blonde continued. "I couldn't stand to look at him, and then- and then? He fucking offered to pay me off… To just- look the other way and pretend I didn't know. That's what people do normally. They just stand by and let it happen. Doesn't matter because it's not happening to them. And if they're making money off of it? They're just as bad, if you ask me. Getting paid by other people's suffering… That's all it is… To be lumped in with people like that? I couldn't stand it… I just..."
Then, before he realised, teardrops fell, landing on his husband's shoes. "Dammit..." he said, trying in vain to stop them.
Letting go of one of Alois' hands, Ciel reached up and held onto the back of his husband's head, guiding him to hide his face in his shoulder. Instinctively, the other man put his arms around Ciel and held him close, all the while having a soothing hand run through his flaxen locks. "Hold onto me." the Watchdog said. "It's alright to cry, here. You're not the bad guy. It's okay to feel angry at being hurt."
With his encouragement, Alois cried openly now, sobbing while in his husband's arms. The blonde couldn't speak through the tears, so Ciel just continued to embrace him. Without words, they both understood. The weight that they both carried on their shoulders seemed unbearable at times. It was hard to move on. The journey was lengthy and difficult. At times like these, it seemed impossible. Pointless. Yet, it was something that they had to do. It was unavoidable.
By the time the tears slowed, the pair were seated, gazing out at the back of the house. The garden was well lit, yet the flowers were not in bloom. Still, the sight was better than that of the front lawn. Alois sat between Ciel's legs with his back against the other man's chest. Ciel had unfastened his coat and wrapped both it and his arms around the menace, keeping him warm and holding him securely. It occurred to Alois that he should probably feel trapped, but he didn't. Instead, he somehow felt quite safe. Eventually, he had calmed down, but was completely emotionally exhausted and quite hesitant to move. Yet, he couldn't let Ciel stay outside in the cold with him forever.
"Ciel?" he called softly. Tiredness even showed in the blonde's voice as he spoke, surprising him somewhat. Yet, his husband seemed unfased.
"Yes?" the Watchdog replied.
"You can go inside if you want." Alois said. "It's cold. And you just got off work..."
"Do you want to be alone?" questioned Ciel. He waited patiently for his husband to answer, and after some hesitation, Alois did.
"Not really."
"Then I'll stay out here with you."
The menace pouted as the bluenette's grasp on him became more firm. "You don't have to do that..."
"I know. I just want to."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to leave you alone." Ciel informed.
"Do you think I'll do something stupid?"
"No, I just don't want you to be up here feeling terrible by yourself. I want to comfort you as much as I can."
"And if I wanted you to go away?"
"Then I would leave." the bluenette stated. "If that's what you need, don't hesitate to ask."
"Hmmn..." Alois didn't really have anything to say. Rather, he couldn't come up with any words.
Unfastening the scarf around his neck, Alois straightened it out, holding onto both ends. Then, he threw the loop behind him so that the fabric touched the back of his husband's neck. Still holding onto it, he fastened it so that it was keeping both of them warm. They were going to be there for a while at this rate, underneath the starless sky. Alois' mind was still clouded, but sometimes, during moments like this, things seemed a bit more steady.
A/N: It's six a.m. and I'm tired. Let's make this fast...
Uh... uh... this shit ain't over, so don't think that solved everything. Shit's fucked. How bad it gets, I haven't decided yet.
What were my ideas again?
I'll remember tomorrow...
My eyes are doing the thing where they water when you yawn. Also, I'm yawning constantly so I can't really see what I'm doing that well.
If there's questions, then I'll answer them next time...
Be sure to tell me what you think and all that jazz...
Uh... Uhm...
I'm trying to think of something funny to close with, but I've got nothing.
Doo dee doo dee doo...
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
