AN; I SHOULD be reading and working on my summer work for school. But I just can't bring myself to read right now. I want to write, even thought my writing is…fsshnnt. Mediocre at best, especially since I don't have a beta. Anyways yeah here's chapter 2.

Also on an off note….is it sad that I went back to the 5th episode of season 2 JUST to rewatch the scene where Ciel clings to Sebastian after entering the Trancy mansion? …yeah I'm pathetic I hunt out canon SebxCiel scenes and coo over them PAY ME NO MIND.

AND! Congratulations to MikiNobies for guessing the song in chapter 1. It is indeed Mother, by Pink Floyd. Awesome job~

Also, France's Clouded Skies belongs to me. Yes. I wrote a song just for this fanfic. And yes. It does have a melody. At some point, when the entire song is published into the story, I'll post some sort of link somewhere so you can all hear what it sounds like.

A Phantom's Canon

Written By Freedom To Rhyme

Track 2; Espressivo

Sebastian had been rather proud of himself during the first lesson. According to Madam Durless, Ciel had not sung in two years. No amount of bribery, begging, pleading, or even threatening had gotten the boy to sing. Yet, there he was, singing on his own accord, albeit rather hushed. More than likely, Ciel had not intended Sebastian to hear.

Now, however, Sebastian was not so pleased. Three Wednesdays had passed since the first lesson, and Ciel showed no interest in singing. Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose; he had not expected to take steps backwards as the lessons progressed.

It was now lesson four. Sebastian should not be displeased; he was getting paid $500 an hour to do absolutely nothing. His usual hourly rate was closer to fifty, when he used to have students. Madam Durless agreed to pay double. Perhaps she had no idea what she should have been doubling, or was just truly terrible at math. Once, she had left Ciel with Sebastian for three hours. The reason was unknown, but he had been paid all the same.

Had the lessons been with any other child, Sebastian would have not minded at all. Ciel Phantomhive, however, was not any other child. When Ciel stepped into the apartment, Sebastian smirked. Ciel frowned.

"You know, that smirk you wear is most likely the most irritating thing I have ever seen," Sebastian chuckled.

"I'm glad. The most irritating thing I've heard is your singing voice, or lack thereof it," Sebastian plucked a conducting wand from a music stand and pointed it at the hollow of Ciel's throat. "I assume we are not using this today?"
"

You assume correct," Ciel took his seat on his usual stool, the one farthest from the piano bench. Pulling a book from his schoolbag, Ciel settled down to read for the next fifty-eight minutes of his "lesson".

"Did you just come from school?" Sebastian asked, not really interested in the answer. Ciel hummed a conformation.

"What grade are you in?"

"Eighth,"

"…Didn't you just turn twelve?"

Ciel shut his book, and stared Sebastian down with an emotionless gaze.

"Mr. Michaelis, I'm quite sure this conversation is irrelevant. This is nothing more than small talk, meaning, you are likely not even interested in the answers. I hate conversation like this; nonsensical babble that inevitably leads to nothing accomplished," Sebastian blinked, and then coughed to hide a laugh. It was humorous for such a complex statement to come from a boy whose feet hovered several inches from the ground.

"Very well then. If you have no interest in being taught, continue with your reading," Sebastian turned back to his manuscript paper, humming absently to himself as he darkened notes on the staff.

Ciel closed the book to look at his teacher.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"Aren't we reverting back to small talk again? Or are you truly interested?" Sebastian said with a smirk. Ciel frowned, and his teacher continued without his reply.

"It's a piece I've been working on for quite some time. It's nearly done," Ciel stood from his stool and moved to stand behind his teacher.

"France's Clouded Skies?" Ciel scoffed. "That name is idiotic; it has no ring, and certainly does not roll off the tongue easily," Sebastian chuckled.

"I'll give you that much,"

"Can I hear it? Perhaps the song itself is not as bad as its title," Sebastian turned on the piano bench to face his pupil, manuscript still in hand.

"I'm afraid not," he said, shaking his head in mock sadness. "You see, the piece calls for a male soprano. It is not possible for me to sing this," Ciel rolled his eyes.

"Who writes a piece they can't even play themselves?" Sebastian's lips curled into a smirk, but said nothing. He turned back to the piano, running complex arpeggios up and down the keys. Ciel would have been slightly impressed by the man's skill, but he was far too distracted by the white fabric covering Sebastian's hands.

"Do you always wear gloves? That can't be convenient for a musician," The dissonant sound of the piano ceased. Looking to the boy with a smirk, Sebastian pulled Ciel down to sit beside him on the piano bench. Ciel's brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

"Do you always cover your eye? That can't be convenient for a child, who has only seen the world for twelve years," Reflexively, Ciel reached up to cover his right eye, almost feeling exposed.

"…My eye has seen enough for two lifetimes…"the boy responded darkly. Sebastian hummed absently. The composer reached forward, placing his left palm over the boy's right eye. Ciel flinched away violently, but Sebastian kept him seated. Leaning over, the elder man breathed into the boy's ear,

"See? We match," Ciel's scowl deepened, attempting to swat Sebastian's hand away. The wrist was caught by the musician's unoccupied hand. Staring up at the twisted smirk, Ciel growled,

"Stop making ignorant assumptions. You sound like a fool," Sebastian simply continued to smirk down, enjoying his student's position. There was no fear in the boy's eyes; the one visible azure orb locked fiercely with Sebastian's own. Leaning down, the young composer sang softly into the boy's ear.

Blue skies are clouding gray today

Nobody knows you've slipped away

Tossing, turning, one more try

As rain falls from this French blue sky

Kisses follow, one by one...

Ciel froze beneath Sebastian's hold. Kisses…He could feel them, running across his body, down his neck, over his chest. The boy squeezed his eyes shut. No…not there.

Struggle, struggle, until it's done

He had thrashed, he had screamed. He had done all he had been told to do in such a situation… Still, they did not stop. Further, and further down, the lips traveled across places foreign to such touch. And little Ciel did not like it one bit. Thrashing, tossing, kicking, screaming, all was futile. For no one was there to hear him sing his song of despair, other than the one who was conducting.

Locked away and begins to fade

It was dark, it was cold. He wanted to go home; he wanted to curl up beside his mother and father beneath the warm comfort of their bed sheets. He wanted his mother to sing him to sleep, like she always did, and for his father to run his fingers through his hair. But there was none of that here. He was alone, in the dark, in the cold.

Our lovely French sky no one will save

He cried. He cried because he was alone, so alone. He cried because he wanted to be home, or at the park, or with his choir, anywhere but where he was now. He sobbed. He sobbed because he missed his mother; he missed his father. He sobbed because he knew he would never see any of those things again. He wept. He wept because no one was there to save him. He wept because this was his new home.

Calling and crying, but no one will answer

Screaming and weeping, it's only amused her

Singing and praying, hoping for salvation

Blue skies are now but, mere apparitions…

And the boy screamed. He screamed into the coat-covered chest of his music teacher. He spotted that wool-covered chest with tearstains, not caring whether the teacher thought he was childish. He did not care if the teacher pushed him away.

But he was not rejected. The boy sat on the piano bench, crying into the chest of the teacher from which he refused instruction. He was dimly aware of a heavy arm draped across the middle of his back. Ciel had not been held with affection for two years. He had never allowed it.

The small boy buried his face farther into the thick wool of his instructor's coat. Perhaps, just this once, he would allow himself to be a child with this almost-stranger.

Sebastian held the small, shaking boy. Had this been any other student, he would have most likely phoned his guardian to take him home. However, Ciel Phantomhive was not just any other student. Holding the boy close, Sebastian mumbled, more to himself than Ciel,

"I will save you, Ciel. I will always save you,"

A/N;…facepalm…..I know I said in the last chapter than this story would go by kind of slow. But then I remembered. I write. VERY. FAST. PACED. SHIT. So yeah. What I said was a lie. Things happen fast in my stories. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes that's bad. Bear with me….Also I am not very consistent on chapter length. This one's not even 2000 words….

Espressivo; a musical term to show that a piece should be played with expression

France's Clouded Skies; lyrics by Freedom To Rhyme