This chapter contains attempts at suicide, so when you see -, stop reading if you don't like reading about the aforementioned subject. Resume reading after you see another -. Also, I won't be able to update due to me being in another country for the entirety of next week, so please forgive me. Otherwise enjoy :)
The sounds of hasty footsteps quickly effaced, and such a thing also seemed to happen to Ciel's placid demeanor. Did Sebastian change his mind? After three (painfully slow) years of enduring his sorrow and pursuing revenge (which, in the end, turned out to be futile, since said revenge was long ago completed), Ciel craved death, much like Sebastian craved his soul.
Well, used to.
Suddenly, fueled by an insatiable desire to find out why Sebastian blatantly refused to consume his damned soul, Ciel stood up from his rather awkward position (for he had indeed landed on his rear, as trite as that might be) and briskly walked through the open door – and continued walking down the hall. Desire became hunger; a great hunger for answers, which refused to shrivel like the type of hunger one might expect after gorging on a grand feast. With a desperate need for answers and the resolve to acquire them, Ciel burst through Sebastian's door (probably causing some – hopefully – minor damage to the hinges), only to find the room empty and devoid of a ransack. If Sebastian wasn't here, then where the hell was he?
The library.
This time, however, Ciel did not waste any time walking; instead, his legs simply sped through the manor, his breath hitching slightly only after avoiding an impending collision with an intricately-carved table, on which a demure vase filled with a conglomerate of flowers (that Ciel failed to remember the names of) stood. Another such collision was about to happen when Ciel almost ran into the double doors of the library, thankfully opening them in time before acquiring a bleeding nose.
Sebastian.
Ciel did not expect to see his butler, his eternally composed butler, scrambling around the library's shelves, looking for something that probably could not be found in the Phantomhive Manor's collection of novels, anthologies, dictionaries, and textbooks. So focused was the butler that the boy's presence went completely unnoticed. Ciel's mouth opened in anticipation, as if it knew what query its master would vocalize.
"Why can't you just take it?"
Ciel expected to be lunged at, bludgeoned (perhaps a caterwaul would have gone well with that; maim his body and his eardrum), but all he got was an abrupt stop in the butler's scrambling. Except that wasn't all.
Sebastian slowly turned around and walked over to the young earl, for he could no longer consider that vile creature his master. He could not even force on one of his fake (but nonetheless pleasant) smiles, for all this time, the miscreant had tricked him into aiding him. And now? His soul was only half there, making it impossible for the demon to consume.
"Why can't I take it, eh? Shouldn't you be the one telling me? What do you say, now, little Ciel?" Despite Sebastian's lighthearted tone, his eyes glowed brightly, outshining the light of the full moon coming through the window. None of that intimidated Ciel, instead only forcing anger to grow expeditiously from a little sapling into a majestic tree (although maybe less majestic when seen on one's countenance).
"Well, I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you, because I have no idea what's going on! In case you haven't noticed, between the two of us, YOU are the expert in souls and other supernatural crap. So tell me: why can't you–"
And with that, Ciel felt a painful sting on his left cheek, followed by yet another slap on his right. With both cheeks already starting to redden, Sebastian strode past Ciel, flinging his tailcoat at his ex-master/contractee and exiting through the open doorway – although he did have the gallant thought of leaving his master with a few words of farewell, which were hissed through fang-like teeth and said spitefully, in hopes of distressing Ciel.
"Why don't you find that out yourself, reaperling."
And with those magnanimous words of good-bye, Sebastian left Ciel, with a great dilemma and two bruising cheeks. Ciel gritted his teeth and pursed his lips, deciding that if Sebastian couldn't take his life, then he would himself.
Slowly, Ciel traipsed to the window in the library, opening it gingerly, almost regretting even considering such an audacious option. He wished not be defeated, and yet he would be willing to succumb to an opponent such as death? If his soul would – could—have been consumed, he would have died for something—the completion of his contract with a demon. Perhaps he was born for the sole purpose of being humiliated and toyed with, whether it was he who toyed with himself or others who humiliated and deceived him.
Humans are all the same it seems; duplicitous and manipulative. -
So for the duplicitous race of which he was part of, Ciel climbed on the white marble balustrade, closed his eyes, reopened them (for he did not want to seem like a coward in front of death), and jumped. Down he went, the wind slapping his already bruised face, making it impossible for him to breathe. The howling wind numbed him with its fierce slaps, which did not help in the least when he felt blinding pain shoot through his body and blood pool around him, blooming like a beautifully rose.
He did not breathe, did not speak, did not scream, did not cry, did not move an inch. How could he? He was in pain; pain that intensified by the second.
Yet he was alive. He could not understand how, or why, but he was alive. He hurt, both on the inside and the outside, but he was alive.
And that in itself caused a plethora of pain. So Ciel limped back inside the mansion, and he jumped, again and again, each time bearing more pain than the next. Once he realized his attempts were futile, he immediately switched tactics and went to the kitchen, only to find a butchering knife lying on the countertop. Hands shaking, he took it and plunged it through his stomach, his back, his heart.
Bleed he did, but die he did not.
Refusing to acknowledge the pain in which he was, the earl went to his bedroom to retrieve the pistol lying under his pillow. He raised it up to his head (even though that sent tingles of pain shooting through his arm) and pulled the trigger, waiting for his body to fall limply on the ground. Instead, he felt the bullet hit something inside of his head and bounce back, almost as if nothing had happened.
He could not die.
Dropping the pistol, Ciel slowly stumbled out of his room, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes yet trying to push the pitiful things away. He had lost this game. Death was merciless with him, not even allowing him to die a defeated death. Not even allowing him to die any death. He touched his cheek and looked at his hand, full of dried blood and shameful tears.
Tears. He had not cried in so long, and now he did just because he couldn't die? Or because the one person he trusted fled without any form of penitence? Or was it because he couldn't even win a fucking game with a pathetic opponent? Maybe the problem wasn't his opponent. Maybe he himself was pathetic. Ciel took a handful of his hair and pulled, as if pulling at all his frustrations. But, just like all of his vexations, the strands of hair did not come off.-
He couldn't even rip out his own hair. He clenched his fists and stumbled on, berating and castigating himself all the while.
Abruptly, Ciel found himself at the end of a long hallway and, wanting to escape, he entered the first door he saw. He couldn't even have time to do anything but shut the door when a young man with white rambunctious hair and scales worriedly knelt in front of Ciel, worry prevalent in his face.
"Smile! Are you alright?." And then, appraising his master in a more careful manner added, more for himself than for Ciel, "wait, of course you're not alright. You're bleeding all over. What happened? And..where's Black?" The young earl just dipped his head, in order to prevent his servant from seeing the tears running down his cheeks. Snake, quickly realizing that his questions were troubling the young master if nothing else, quickly helped him sit down on his narrow bed and went to get some bandages, gauze and antiseptic (which he kept in his bathroom—being the footman of the manor, he did not have to share with Finny or Bard). While he was fetching the necessary medical supplies, Ciel wiped his tears on the sleeve of his nightshirt, folding it outwards so that the wet splotch could not be easily spotted.
Snake soon emerged from the bathroom and proceeded to wipe off some of the blood on his master's arm, causing even more blood to inundate Ciel's soft skin. The earl did not flinch, although he silently cursed under his breath. The shrewd footman, realizing that trying to wipe the blood away with a handkerchief was not a very intelligent way of going about it, dumped a cloth into a bowl of lukewarm water (which he had also thought to bring along, just in case) and started cleaning his master of the dried blood on his body. After properly dressing the master's wounds and tucking him in his bed, Snake took the pitcher of water by his bed (that was kept there in case Snake got thirsty in the middle of the night) and filled a glass of water for the master (who had calmed down reasonably, but could not hold the glass of water pushed to his lips). After swallowing a few sips of the cool liquid, Ciel's mind cleared a tad and he sat up, pushing the sheets away, apologizing for the abrupt intrusion. Snake only smiled at his master's childlike behavior and encouraged him to lie down and rest. Ciel only shook his head, saying that he couldn't do that, even if he tried.
"If you don't want to sleep, can you at least tell me why you're injured?" Snake sat down by the foot of the earl's bed, trying not to cause any discomfort to his already maimed master. Ciel's gaze slowly lowered, not wanting to confess his multiple suicidal attempts. Snake smiled reassuringly, not wanting to cause any further distress to his master.
"Alright, then. We'll just leave this for tomorrow, I guess." Ciel shrugged and let out an almost inaudible "sure", which was barely acknowledged by Snake's ears. The footman stood up, heading towards the open door, probably in order to close it.
"Although I wouldn't recommend it," he added. "I don't think you'd be able to get much sleep with the contract mark slowly being erased from your eye. Believe me when I tell you that it's not pleasant" Ciel's eyes widened and he felt inclined to let out a small gasp (but refraining himself from doing so just in time). He looked at his footman and swallowed, doing his best to hide his bemusement and fear.
"H-how did you know about our…contract?"
"That's easy," Snake said, smiling. "Emily saw the mark on Black's hand, and it was just a matter of time until I figured the rest out. You know, with your eye patch and all."
Ciel nodded, already starting to feel sleepy. Of course, he couldn't go to sleep now; he just had one more important question to ask.
"So how did you know that it ended?" Snake resumed his spot at the foot of Ciel's bed and gingerly tucked the thin sheets around his master, hoping to help him gain some semblance of warmth in the frigid attic.
"Simply because the contract mark in your eye has already started the process of being erased."