A cade is a young sheep whose mother either will not or cannot look after it, and so it must be raised by humans in order to survive.
Human memory was a most curious thing to Sebastian.
For demons, memories were a perfect chronicle of exact events. A demon's memory also did not appear to fade. Though Sebastian would often have to think meditatively in order to recall memories that were hundreds of years old, he could absolutely regain them. Good experiences, bad experiences, all were filed chronologically within him and were ready to be thumbed through at a moment's notice.
But the way memory worked for humans? There was nothing accurate about it. Humans could remember very few details in crystal clarity; even the memories that humans felt the nearest and dearest to could become stripped bare of all but the most poignant moments. Their brains were not designed to hold onto the facts so much as the feelings of a moment in time. If what actually happened and the human's emotions about what happened tended to differentiate at all, the memory frequently became something entirely separate from the event itself.
The intertwining of memory and emotion could be as glorious as it was dangerous. A happy memory could warm a human's heart for their entire lives. A frightening memory could continue to eat away at a human's psyche for decades. Bad memories could come calling any moment — as they did at the Shrove Tuesday party; as they did in the asylum.
Sebastian knew if he was to keep the emotional outbursts of March from repeating themselves, he would need to talk to Ciel about his anxieties during the mission. And he'd need to do it this week, while there was time to rest and build strength. Next week, Ciel would be plunged into the heart of the social season, and with that, there would be no breathing room until mid-August.
And even so, an "open schedule" for an entire week was a bit of an exaggeration. Though Ciel had no formalities to attend for seven days' time, it did not mean there wasn't much to prepare. He needed to finally get his hair cut, have his feet measured for new shoes, and, most of all, respond to the countless letters that had been pouring in since the end of April.
Tanaka had attended to the post during the month Ciel trained for Hastings's competition, but Sebastian had seen the never-ending pile of invitations that Tanaka had been responding to and saving. There were polite rejections for anything in May, and a backlog of June and July events that would need Ciel's approval. The Queen herself would be so busy holding court for all the young ladies who wanted to present themselves this Season and attending London's many summer events that even getting a meeting with her to discuss the found children would be difficult to coordinate.
Though Ciel was only fourteen, it was a small relief that he was already engaged to be married and thus did not have to play the petty game of matchmaking that so many nobles did. Unfortunately, Ciel did have to play the equally petty game of keeping up appearances. Sebastian mocked pettiness to its face, but there was a part of him that was fascinated by the standards humans set for themselves. Their lives were short, so every decision they made was treated with the utmost importance. As such, mating rituals and social bonding had become elaborate dances meant to be performed over weeks, months, years, lifetimes. It was a beautiful, inane theatre. Sebastian could not help being darkly intrigued.
Perhaps it was due to his intrigue that Sebastian had, in the past, tended to keep Ciel's calendar very full during the Season. Most of the time, Ciel did not complain. He hated mingling and small talk, but accepted that it came with the territory of his position. And not all outings had to be purely social. There were scientific and medical lectures to attend, as well as poetry recitals and small concerts, events where conversation was generally unwelcome, the perfect locale for wallflowers. It was the picnics and polo matches, garden parties and five-course dinners, elegant balls and late-night soirées, that truly exhausted the boy.
Ciel was typically the youngest person at any evening event. Most of the time, he was not treated as a child either. The Phantomhive name was a respected one. In this time of the rising middle-classes, nobles found comfort in their own kind. Ciel was the head of a storied, old household and direct servant of the Queen, and so in the eyes of the aristocracy, even in his youth, Ciel's prestige was seen above that of any adult member of the bourgeoisie. He publicly acted as an adult, and was to be respected as an adult.
But Ciel was not an adult.
Sebastian was becoming more aware of this fact by the day. He'd always known it in the literal sense; he had scarcely considered it in the cognitive sense. Ciel was not a childish person by any means… or, he hadn't been until recently. Seeds of terror had been planted in the boy's heart when he was young. For so long, they had been small, inconsequential, ignorable enough that they only threatened Ciel in his dreams. Now those seeds were growing along with their host. They had created tiny cracks in Ciel's forced maturity and exposed the fragile nature hidden beneath. That fragile nature needed tending to. Someone had to be its caretaker.
Alexis and Francis Midford had left Ciel feeling embarrassed and contemptuous. Agni and Tanaka had insisted Sebastian was better suited to play the part of the boy's keeper. Sebastian had decided he was an adequate stand-in until the correct mentor finally did make their debut. But who could possibly serve the role?
A reminder appeared, of all places, on top of the letters he and the young master were meant to evaluate that week.
Ciel did not wake up that day until half past noon. Sebastian had expected this, seeing as a difficult mission often required some time for recuperation. Though he was a bit surprised, upon being summoned to the bedroom, that Ciel had already fallen back asleep.
Evidently it was a light sleep, for when Sebastian took just a few lithe steps forward, the boy's eyes opened to half-lid. After a pause, Ciel said tiredly, plainly, "I'm sick."
"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Sebastian strode over to the bed, began removing a glove. "May I check for fever?"
Ciel sat up and let the bare hand curtain his bangs. "Mm-hm… I'm pretty sure I have one, though."
"Yes, you do feel a mite warm." Sebastian adjusted the pillows behind Ciel's back so he could rest comfortably against them in this new position. "Are there any other symptoms you're experiencing?"
"I have a headache, and I just feel exhausted. I'm sure it'll pass by tomorrow." Ciel blinked sleepily at the far wall. "I don't think I need any medicine."
"I'll be the judge of that," Sebastian tutted. "If it were up to you, you would never need medicine at all."
A huff. "Fine, I'll consider it… Just don't make me eat any pickled barberries."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "Pickled… barberries, my lord?"
"My mother used to swear by them." The memory alone disgusted the boy into making a face. "I think she actually liked the taste… I never understood it. Barberries have such a sharp flavor, not even birds will eat them. Anytime I got a fever, she'd bring some to me… Ugh, it was the worst. Sometimes I'd pretend to be asleep just to avoid it."
That was something else Sebastian had noticed lately: Ciel had been telling him more and more stories about his parents. At the start of their contract, he never talked about his mother or father when he could help it. That had lasted until… perhaps this year. Another behavioral change to add to the list. Just what else am I to be in for…? "For starters, we'll see if clove tea helps. If your condition doesn't improve, then I'll administer raspberry vinegar. Will that suffice?"
"Obviously. I'm not that particular, I just can't stand carbonate of potash." Ciel closed his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with my stomach, by the way, so make a breakfast large enough to last me until teatime."
"Certainly, sir. I'll be back shortly." He nearly put his hand on the doorknob, then drew it back. "Ah, that's right. I almost forgot."
"Mnn?" Ciel grumbled in question.
Sebastian reached inside his tailcoat and removed the letter. "The majority of the post can wait until you are feeling better, my lord, but I thought you may be interested in this message from Mr. Fairclough specifically."
"Oh." Ciel accepted the envelope, though he did not seem overly curious about it. He stared at it for a second, then placed it on the bedside table. "I'll read it later. Go make breakfast now."
Sebastian made his way to the kitchen, a fair walking distance from the master bedroom. Henri Fairclough… Sebastian had not thought about that man in some time. He had left an impression on both demon and master, coming out of nowhere to save the day when Ciel had misspoken to that old woman harassing him at the Goode's party. Fairclough supported Ciel in front of his aunt; distracted the partygoers so that they would forget the incident; had even unintentionally spared Ciel from having a birds-and-bees conversation with his uncle the following day. Fairclough's letter seemed a promising thing.
If only that could be said of all the letters… Sebastian frowned at the mail pile as he passed it on his way. It sat just inside the basement room that housed the servant's bells, a nook of a space that had become a sort of makeshift study, so that Sebastian and Tanaka could complete paperwork while still keeping attentive to Ciel. Sebastian usually only went there at night to record the manor's expenses. Tanaka sometimes spent most of the day there, helping the young master keep up with shire taxes and the least imperative Funtom forms. But the mail had since become a rather threatening foot-tall stack of invitations, waiting almost impatiently for Ciel's approval.
Just how many of those events would the boy be forced to attend this season? Sebastian did not stop to give the pile any more thought. They could deal with that later, when Ciel wasn't under the weather.
Bard was at the worktable pounding spices and glanced up when Sebastian entered the kitchen. He immediately looked back down at the orange thyme bristles he was stripping from their stalks. Sebastian said nothing as he strolled to the pantry, but he could feel Bard's tension emanating off of him. The two of them hadn't spoken much since the day Ciel had ridden Avalon. It would be false to say Sebastian exactly missed whatever his dynamic with the chef had been before, but things were… somewhat off, now.
Sebastian returned to the stovetop with the jar of cloves, which he added to the coffee grinder (a device rarely ever used to grind coffee) and turned them into a fine, cinnamon-colored powder. Hot water was always readily available on the stove, so the cloves could begin steeping immediately. Sebastian selected a transferware tea set in Wm. A. Adderley's Floribel pattern, to match the day's early-summer weather, and began to fill the kettle.
"So… Eh… How'd the mission go? The young master seems t'be doin' okay… I think."
Bard suddenly, tentatively, broke the silence. Sebastian had almost forgotten he was in the room. He waited a beat before answering in a light clip, "The adversaries have been found and apprehended, as planned. The young master appears to have a mild fever today, but he is not injured."
"I don't doubt that. I didn't think he would get hurt on your watch. I mean… you always keep a pretty sharp eye out for 'im." A meaningful pause. "None a' us here… want anything bad to happen to the young master. We'd do anything for 'im. Anything 'e says."
Sebastian was preparing the tea tray while he listened. The corners of his mouth twitched, picking up on Bard's insinuation. He sighed. The topic had to come up sooner or later. Now was as good a time as any. "Bardroy, I understand you were just following orders when you allowed the young master to ride Avalon. I only think you should have considered the foreseeable consequences more carefully."
Bard was quiet for a moment. "Maybe I'm not understandin' somethin' then," he said at last, not angry but somewhat charged. He'd stopped handling the thyme; Sebastian had stopped organizing the tray. They stood back to back at their separate stations. "Aren't we to answer to the young master on everything? That's what you tol' me when I was jus' startin' out. But I'm beginnin' to feel like that isn't the philosophy anymore. You was actin' like I did somethin' real wrong, and I jus' want to understand when things changed."
Now it was Sebastian's turn to hesitate. "Bard..." But his voice almost immediately stopped again, and not on purpose. He'd been about to say, "I have never condoned that you must listen to the master when he is potentially putting himself in danger." But the words wouldn't come. Which meant those words were a lie.
Sebastian had very likely never specified that the Phantomhive servants should protect Ciel from his own actions. He hadn't thought he'd need to… but therein lay the problem. Had Ciel not, just four months ago, been staying up late, ignoring his paperwork, and eating unhealthily, all because Sebastian had let it happen? All because Sebastian had believed that the boy could be in charge of himself?
Just as the rest of the world seemed to believe?
The words wouldn't come because they were a lie. Then what words were the truth? When, as Bard had said, did things change? Boiled down, Ciel was still Sebastian's contracted soul, the lord of this manor, the watchdog to the Queen, and... a child. That wasn't new. Then what was new?
"Mr. Sebastian?"
'Mr. Sebastian' indeed.
He turned away from the stovetop. "I suppose it's worth saying," Sebastian finally began, "that… you weren't the only one to make an improper judgment that day."
Bard twisted over his shoulder. "Sir?"
Sebastian straightened his spine and put his fingertips together. "The young master is just that: young. He doesn't always know what is best at his age. But… he is not stupid either. Simply put, it was wrong of you to allow him to ride Avalon… and it was just as wrong of me to scold him so blindly."
"... Alright. I think we're mostly on the same page," Bard said carefully, facing Sebastian in full. "Jus'... what am I suppose'ta say to 'im if he insists on doin' something dangerous again? I ain't never told 'im 'no' before. I think he'd be right angry if I did."
That was a fair question. Sebastian drew his gaze to the side. "Tell him… that I have insisted on his safety, and that he should speak with me if he is disappointed by the state of things." Sebastian met Bard's eyes then. "You are right. This is different from what I initially instructed you to do. The opposite, in fact. But I have come to understand that the young master is not old enough to keep himself from all harm, or even from merely poor judgment. In certain cases, I believe we must intervene, even if it goes against our position."
Bard stared for a few seconds before folding his arms and lifting his chin as his signature smirk overcame him. Sebastian hadn't seen that expression in some time. "Well, that's more than alright with me… T'be frank, I'm pretty relieved by that." Bard scratched at the nape of his neck. "And, y'know… Relieved we're seein' eye to eye again. Been a little uncomfortable around you lately! There were days I was just waitin' for you to give me the sack!"
Sebastian offered a capricious smile. "You needn't have worried about that. To let go of an employee for such a minor infraction would reflect poorly on my lord's reputation."
"Oy, you really don't wait around to start ribbing me again, do you," Bard said flatly. He smiled back a second later. "Well, you better bring that tea up b'fore it gets cold, I reckon. Oh, n' I almost forgot — should let you know the farrier is comin' tomorrow. I thought you might ask the young master if he wants Avalon t'get shod along with the others. I haven't tried gettin' a good look at his hooves yet, but it might not hurt tah try and fit him for some new shoes, if the fella can handle it."
"I will pass it along." Sebastian picked up the tray. "Just as well, please pass along to Mey-Rin and Finny what I have told you today."
"Yessir, Mr. Sebastian sir! Can count on me!" Sebastian was already leaving the kitchen, but Bard's hasty salute was practically present in his voice.
Well. That took care of one problem... though it added another. It occurred to Sebastian that it would be right to let Ciel know of what he'd just informed Bard and the others. Except… Such a reveal was sure to result in bitter fury, and neither of them needed to deal with that. This week shouldn't be about fighting, but rest.
… Maybe this would never become an issue. If Ciel did not ask the servants to assist him in a blatantly unsafe activity, he would never be told 'no' by them, and thus would never find out Sebastian had instructed the household to monitor his behavior. Besides, he and Ciel were communicating better than ever before. Perhaps those days of griping over every little thing could be well behind them.
When Sebastian returned to the bedroom, Ciel was reading Fairclough's letter. It was put to the side in order to accept the teacup. "Mr. Fairclough has written to let me know he'll be staying in London at least for the rest of the Season instead of going back to France. He's found some work with colleges in the area, so he sent me a sort of open invitation to visit whenever I might be available."
"Very good." Sebastian set down the tray and held out a small jar of honey. Ciel took the dipper and let some drizzle into his cup. "When planning your schedule for the summer, we shall make certain to leave time for that."
"Ugh… as if I'll be left with much time at all," Ciel grumbled, already going for a second dose of honey. "If this year's Season is anything like last year's, I'll be spending more of the day outside the London house than in it." The boy's brow furrowed. "And Soma's going to be there, too. I won't have any peace for well over a month." He sighed angrily, bringing the wand to the honey for yet a third dropper full.
Sebastian pulled the container away. "That's enough of that, I should think."
"..." Ciel shot Sebastian an annoyed glare, but decided not to argue it. His spoon clinked gently against the china as he stirred the honey in. "When I was little, I hated to be sick. Not just for the obvious reason. I always felt like I was missing something fun. Now when I get sick, especially during the social season, I'm almost excited about it. It means I get to take a break from everything."
Sebastian smirked a bit. "You didn't seem to feel that way when you fell ill during the circus mission."
"That was different. I had a job to do." Ciel took a sip of tea. "Wish it were sweeter…" he muttered under his breath. Then he continued, "I don't like to have any interruptions when I'm doing something important. But I hate going to parties, I hate dancing and small talk, and I hate how every time, someone has to come up to me and say, 'Oh, you're the Earl of Phantomhive? I had no idea you were so young! ' God, the Season is trying."
"It has certainly always been a struggle for the young master," Sebastian said. "Perhaps we shall have to think of some way to make it less overwhelming."
Ciel slouched down on the pillow. "There isn't anything that can be done. It's the same torture every year. I just have to deal with it. For two whole months. Without respite."
Something about the way he spoke troubled Sebastian. "My, such wording. I didn't know you saw it as torture."
"Of course you wouldn't know," the boy snapped. "It's not like you have to deal with this, only I do! So don't mock me like that!"
The sudden flare-up was unexpected. Sebastian almost raised his hands in defense out of surprise. "My intent surely isn't to mock you, sir," he said, with a short laugh of confusion. "If anything, I would like to understand better."
Ciel's thumb rubbed at the teacup's handle. "Well, you can't understand, because everything comes easy for you. So stop arguing with me already."
Sebastian's eyebrow ticked. "A… Arguing…?"
"Can you just go make me breakfast now?" Ciel whined. "I told you I was really hungry, so stop wasting time and get around to it. You're not Hastings's plaything of a djinn anymore, you're my demon, and I actually have expectations of you. Get to work."
"..." Sebastian had no idea what to say. He opted for the default. "Yes… my lord…"
The bedroom door shut softly behind him. Sebastian stood still for a moment in the long, empty hallway. Birds twittered distantly behind the west window, flitting in the warm summer sun. Their far-off song was the only sound to fill the void. Ah. How quaint.
So then...
What the hell was that accusing conversation just now?!
Sebastian grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and slowly composed himself. So, it was going to be like that… It seemed the days of griping over every little thing were, in fact, not behind them at all.
Get his hair cut. Have his feet measured for new shoes. Respond to the countless letters that had been pouring in since the beginning of May. Talk to him about his anxieties during the mission.
They had six more days to complete all these tasks. It didn't feel like nearly enough.
"Damn demon! I don't want to do that right now! Leave me alone!"
Simultaneously, it seemed far too long.
The boy's small illness had fully cleared up by the end of the day, without the need of medicine or, heaven forbid, pickled barberries. But Ciel Phantomhive's touchy mood had not faded with it. And when Ciel was feeling touchy, tasks that were once straightforward found themselves in a tangled mess.
Get his hair cut. That should have been simple enough. Ciel had fairly ruly hair, neither too greasy or too dry, too thick or too thin. Sebastian had been cutting it since the very beginning of their contract. Its style had been scarcely altered over time, and was frankly a bit unorthodox, with long bangs that hung around his ears and interlocked in the middle of his forehead (Francis Midford never made a mystery of how much she despised it). Sebastian was just grateful that his charge seemed to have the same opinion on hair that he did: if the texture and appearance were naturally agreeable, there was no reason to attack healthy tresses with products and perfumes. Brushing alone was enough taming.
"It's too short," Ciel said to the provided hand mirror, once the cut was over with.
Sebastian removed the towel from the boy's shoulders and swatted at the back of his neck to brush the stray clippings onto the conservatory floor; the abundant greenery provided for a more engaging view when one had to sit still for a long period of time, so the haircuts were always conducted here. "You asked for me to cut it how I usually do. That's precisely what I did, my lord."
"Are you sure?" Ciel's head turned this way and that. "It doesn't look right to me. I look younger than I did before."
That criticism was far too direct to ignore. Sebastian went around to evaluate his charge from the front. He put a hand to his chin, studying. "I'm not sure I see what you mean… To me, shorter hair has always given you a more mature appearance. Perhaps it is only strange this time around, since my lord waited longer than usual to have his hair cut. The difference is much more prominent."
Ciel was busy fussing with his bangs in the mirror and making expressions of increasing frustration. "It still doesn't look right to me," he said, placing the mirror on the trolley beside the scissors and combs. "I don't need anyone looking at me as if I haven't grown a bit since last summer. People already consider me a child, they don't need any other excuses."
Sebastian supposed that was true too, to an extent. The aristocracy will call him a child, but they'll only treat him like one when it suits them… and when it doesn't, he's an adult again. How very convenient.
Ciel stood, but reached back for the mirror to take a final glance. His fingers tugged through the newly shorn strands, pulling them behind his ears, then back in front. His reflection wrinkled up its nose. "Maybe it'll look better after a few days, but right now it's off."
"I'm sorry it isn't to your liking, sir," Sebastian said with a small bow. "Next time, I'll remove less and see what you think of that."
"'Sorry' doesn't fix anything," was the biting retort. "'Next time' is months away. I'll just have to put up with it till then." Ciel rounded his shoulders as he walked briskly out of the conservatory.
Put up with it...?!
Sebastian felt his irritation growing. He knew he had not made a single mistake, and yet somehow, he was being treated like a failure. Again, he took a moment to get ahold of himself. He was thinking about this the wrong way. If Ciel were upset when he received just what he asked for, the problem lay not with Sebastian but with Ciel. Spontaneous outbursts of emotion did not seem to be so unusual during adolescence… Sebastian tidied up, shaking his head subtly. How this behavior could possibly be part of evolution's design was nothing if not baffling.
Have his feet measured for new shoes. Surely this could go without a hitch. In the bedroom, Sebastian placed a portable desk on the floor and a piece of paper on top of the writing slope. Ciel stepped on the paper and held still so Sebastian could trace his bare foot with a black chinagraph pencil, then again for the other foot on a separate sheet. Finally, Sebastian used a tape measure to find the ball width and circumference measurements of left foot and right, recording the numbers on their respective pages. These details would be sent to Nina's entrusted shoemaker, who would use them to create two sets of plain congress shoes and button-snap ankle boots alike. It had been decided that until Ciel's feet had completed their adult growth spurt, it would be somewhat a waste of money for him to have specially-designed footwear.
"You didn't measure my feet correctly. One of the tracings is clearly bigger than the other."
Sebastian was kneeling on the floor, bunching up Ciel's stockings to help slip them back on. He glanced into the boy's furrowed face, which was studying the two outlines with the meticulousness of a jewel appraiser. Sebastian kept his frown in check. Again, his abilities were under scrutiny… "I made no such mistake, sir. Your feet are slightly different sizes."
"They're different sizes?" Ciel's arms dropped to his sides indignantly. "Why are you acting so calm about it?!"
Sebastian clucked his tongue. "Come now, my lord. I do not think it is so unusual, especially at your age, for this to be the case. There's no need for panic over something we can do nothing about."
"There's no need for you to panic!" The boy plopped on the bed and groaned up at the ceiling. "What are people going to say when they notice? I'm going to look so stupid!"
Hmm… "Young master, I don't think this is going to be the sort of thing that others will notice. The difference in length isn't quite an inch. And with shoes on, it will be even less obvious."
"How do you know what other people will notice?" Ciel stood again, lining up his heels next to each other. He made a noise of shock when he discovered the difference in growth for himself. "How have I never noticed this?"
"It may be something recent," Sebastian sighed, "and it may very well sort itself out with time."
"But what if it doesn't?!"
"Then there is nothing we can do about it, and we'll merely have to deal with it."
"No, I'll have to deal with it! Not you!" Ciel let the papers flutter down to the floor so he could fold his arms. "Are you sure there's nothing we can do about it?"
"Shy of binding your feet or removing part of a toe, I can think of nothing, sir."
With that, Ciel fell back against the bed, with a flop punctuated by a loud, angry snarl from the back of his throat. Uncertain of how else to placate him, Sebastian left the boy to his silent tantrum as he tugged the stockings over his long legs and fixed them to their sock garters.
"I know you're secretly laughing at me, by the way, so once you put my shoes back on, you can leave."
"Eh?" Sebastian had just finished with the second pair of laces. He steeled his nerves and glanced up with a weak smile. "I'm certainly not laughing at you, young master… And I thought you wanted to go to your office after this to start planning for the Season's events."
"We can get to that later," Ciel snapped, still laying on his back. "I need a break from you. Go make me a dessert or something that I can eat while we work. That's an order."
Such a light request didn't really merit the command Ciel chased it with, but because the line had been spoken, Sebastian turned around promptly to leave. Externally, the demon kept his countenance as placid and blank as that of a marble bust.
I didn't even say anything that time, and still...!
Internally, however, he was a roiling sea.
Respond to the countless letters that had been pouring in since the beginning of May. There was no use in pretending this one was going to go well. But, armed with some amicable words and a freshly-baked batch of chocolate fanchonettes, perhaps it could at least be a tolerable meeting.
The heavy-lidded glare Ciel shot from the other side of his desk said otherwise. Right, then... Best to present the peace offering first. Sebastian placed the plate of tarts on the desktop beside the stack of letters. Ciel's eyes shifted between both and then back to his butler. Sebastian could feel the eggshells beneath his feet.
Amicable words. Time for some amicable words.
"Before we get started," Sebastian said with effort, "I want to acknowledge that the young master is having a… rather tempestuous sort of day."
Ciel's blue eye was as cold as ever. "All right. You've acknowledged it. Hats off."
Sebastian wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed by the smart aleck commentary. It weakened his cordial smile just slightly. "I wanted to say," he persevered, "that if you wished to go through the mail tomorrow instead, I would understand. And if you wanted to… tell me anything about how you're feeling right now, that would… be welcome all the same."
He'd kept his eyes pleasantly closed until he'd finished speaking the last sentence. Embarrassment was a foreign concept to Sebastian — there was just something in those words that felt like such a betrayal of his own character, he was unexcited to experience Ciel's response to it.
And with good reason. The look Sebastian eventually had to face was one of judgment, almost disgust.
"... What?" Ciel said at last.
The boy was going to make him explain himself when he was trying to be nice… "I only mean to invite conversation about your current... emotional state. Your mood has surprised me twice today. If something unbeknownst to me is causing your anger, perhaps our time would be better spent evaluating that anger and saving the p—"
"Yes, I gathered that much, thank you," Ciel spat, still looking at Sebastian with drawn eyebrows. Then his face abruptly relaxed. "Well… I've just got one thing to say to you: I'm sorry."
Oh? "'Sorry,' sir?"
"Sorry that I thought you had anything sitting in the cavity between your ears."
Oh.
"I'm not sure what you want me to say right now." The fire was back in the boy's voice and eyes. "You're asking me why I'm angry? Well, what do you think, you were there for all of it! I don't like my haircut! My feet are two different sizes! And you, you've been a thorn in my side all day, too, you know! I mean… what were you expecting?!" Ciel's glower was cutting. "Did you think it was going to be like it was during the mission? That something… something that reminded me of that horrible month set me off, and then I'd tell you all about it, and you could give me some of your fake pity? Would that be easier? Maybe for you it would be. Then you wouldn't have to consider that you're the problem. Which you definitely are!"
Sebastian was at a loss for words. Even the air around them felt as fragile as glass. "That's… all well and good sir. If I'm the trouble, then that deserves just as much… discussion as anything else that could be bothering you."
"As if I even want to talk to you right now." Ciel's fingers gripped and ungripped the armrests of his wingback chair. He looked more distraught than ever. "I'm done with you. Leave me alone until I call for you again. Go do something else."
How miserably that had gone. Sebastian gazed a second longer at the boy who couldn't meet his eyes, before bowing deeply to show his benevolence. "As you wish… my lord."
Once again, his back was to a closed door. Sebastian let his head droop in temporary defeat. Even when I bring dessert, I'm still the enemy…?
All right. It was time to reevaluate. He had tried to be patient, gentle, and understanding, and where had that gotten him? No farther than when he'd left Ciel to his own devices. Sebastian was deep in thought as he walked the halls. What wasn't he getting right? Everything Ciel said made it clear Sebastian's intentions were being completely misinterpreted, though Sebastian himself couldn't have been more plain. If this point-blank method didn't convince Ciel he needed to exercise self-reflection, would anything?
Sebastian barely resisted the urge to go and play with cats. He didn't want Ciel's irrationality to be his problem… but who else's problem would it be? Francis Midford's? The marquis's? Maybe it should be, but Ciel wasn't even letting it be anyone else's problem. It was always Sebastian… and it was always Sebastian he pushed away the most strongly too. Just who did he expect would want to help him if he continued to act so impossible? Nobody would be willing to put up with this kind of behavior unless they had no choice in the matter. Usually, that would be the child's parents, but Sebastian was the only one left in the boy's world with 'no choice,' so now he was dealing with all that terrible treatment in their stead.
… Oh.
"I'm taking some sugar cubes with me to give to Avalon while he has his hooves checked. So don't panic this time if you see me outside with him, all right? I'm not going to get hurt."
Sebastian had been washing china at the kitchen sink when Ciel's sudden words had all the effect of a surprise tap on the shoulder. He hoped Ciel hadn't noticed the way his spine had stiffened at the notion of being directly addressed. To say he was a little jumpy right now was an unfortunate understatement.
Sebastian smoothed his features and responded gracefully, "Certainly, sir. I hope all goes well."
"Mm-mn." The affirmative was muffled, as if Ciel had started sucking on a sugar cube while he had them in-hand. Sebastian nearly sent him off with a caution about cavities, but swallowed the words before they could form and returned to his task. Perhaps there was a time when he could chide the young master without worry, but now such scoldings may just create an association with p… pare…
No. He couldn't bring himself to think the word.
Ciel had gone out the servant's entrance directly into the stable. Bard was apparently waiting for him, as Sebastian heard the chef ask what he had there.
"It's sugar. For Avalon. I thought it might help if he had something as a treat to calm him down while the farrier cleans his hooves. He isn't a biter, right? It would be safe for me to feed it to him, if I were on the other side of the paddock?"
"Yeh, should be jus' fine, I think, if you keep yer palm and fingers nice n' flat, but I, uh… Well, I just don't want you to, uh… That is..." Sebastian could practically hear Bard's fingers scratching nervously at his stubbly cheek, remembering yesterday's conversation about saying 'no' for the boy's own good.
Ciel waved off Bard's hesitation. "Father just said it was fine, so don't worry about getting in trouble."
Sebastian almost dropped the teapot he was drying to the floor. Those words were shattering enough on their own.
… surely he didn't just…
Surely he didn't just accidentally refer to me as 'Father'?!
Bard's voice was like a beacon of confusion slicing through the fog Sebastian's thoughts had become. "Eh?! Um… You… Talked to him about this before, young master?" he stammered.
Ciel didn't seem to realize he'd substituted in a very specific word in place of 'Sebastian.' "Yeah, just a moment ago. When I was getting the sugar."
"When you was…?" Bard trailed off. "Ehm… Wait… So… Are you saying you… saw him…?"
"Yes, obviously I saw him," Ciel huffed.
Bard didn't seem to realize Ciel had subbed in a very specific word in place of 'Sebastian' either. He seemed to think Ciel really had meant to mention his father. A father who was no longer alive… or at least... no longer corporeal...
It would be hilarious if Sebastian didn't feel so threatened.
"Oh… Uhm…" Bard was choosing his words very carefully. "Is that… er… usual? For you to see him?"
Ciel snorted, probably thinking Bard's phrasing was so odd, it could only be an attempted joke. "I wish it weren't usual, but unfortunately, yes, I see far too much of him."
"Whoa!" The chef was gobsmacked. "A-Are you tellin' me you're bein' haunted, young master?!"
"Well, that certainly is one way of putting it," said Ciel, again with an amused lilt.
Bard was the opposite of amused; his feet shuffled as he whipped around. "D-Do you see him right now?! Is he in here?"
"What? No, he's not in here! I just told you, he's in the kitchen."
"In the kitchen?!" Bard was in full shock now. "Is that where he always is?!"
"Of course not!" Ciel was nearly in equal shock. "He follows me around half the day, how could he always be in the kitchen?! Don't you think you'd have noticed?!"
It was quiet again for a long moment as Bard tried to process the supposed existence of poltergeists. "Young master… I had no idea… I'm so sorry…" he finally said weakly.
Ciel tsked, nonplussed. "I have no idea how you haven't noticed, but your sympathy is appreciated."
"So, are you sayin' he's… in the kitchen right now?"
"He was just there a minute ago, so he probably hasn't left."
Bard howled, "R-R-Really?! And if I went in, you wager I'd see him?!"
Ciel couldn't help matching his volume. "Yes! Why wouldn't you see him?! Are your eyes as bad as Mey-Rin's all of a sudden?!"
Bard's footfalls thumped in the direction of the kitchen. He flung wide the servant's door and stormed in. He was breathing heavily, nervously, as he glanced around the empty room.
"Ehm," Bard panted with lowering fear, "I don't see him."
Ciel clacked in a second later. "Well, then he's not here! Good grief! You're acting like he's some sort of rare bird!"
"I-I'm sorry, sir," Bard stuttered. "It's… I don't mean to be rude or, uh, sacrilegious… Honest. It's just… I've never seen a ghost before."
"A ghost?" More bafflement. "Now what are you on about?"
"Oh! Um, maybe you call it… a-a spirit," Bard tried. "Or… an apparition? H-Him, I mean, not it."
"I can promise you, I'd much sooner call him an 'it' than a spirit," said Ciel.
"No, I… I wouldn't ever call him 'it'... that'd be disrespectful…" Bard paused. He sounded exhausted. "I'm sorry, sir. This is just a lot for me to take in at once. I didn't think ghosts really existed... It's pretty hard, to think your own father might be comin' from the beyond jus' to haunt ya…"
Then there was a very long quiet.
"What are you talking about," said Ciel.
"I… Uh…" Bard's brain was probably at full capacity now. "Uhm… I'm still not sure what word you want me tah use, but… I thought we was talking about the ghost of your late father...?"
There was another very long quiet.
"... Why in…? What?! " Ciel was incredulous. "My late father?! Where the hell did you get an idea like that from?! A Dickens novel?!"
"Y-Y-You said you were talking to your father in the kitchen!" Bard shouted, frenzied.
"I never said that!" Ciel shouted back.
"You said that you just asked your father if it was okay to feed Avalon sugar!"
"What?! Why the hell would I say that?!"
"I don't know, sir, but that's why I was so confused!"
"I said I was talking to Sebastian!" Ciel yelled. "Where did you get 'father' from that?"
"Eh… Um…" Bard got quieter. "You… You definitely said… 'Father' just then in the stables, sir…"
"W-Why would I say 'father' when I meant Sebastian?" Ciel choked out. Embarrassment was starting to creep into his tone.
"Uh, well, I certainly couldn't tell you that, sir, only I don't think I ever would have got it in my head that the ghost of your father was followin' you if you hadn't said the word 'father'..."
"Ghosts aren't real, you idiot!" was the argument Ciel chose to present.
"I-I-I didn't think so either, sir, but I was confused, and I didn't want to make you feel silly if you did believe in 'em!"
"Of course I don't believe in ghosts! If ghosts were real, this place would be bloody swarming with ghosts! There'd be more ghosts on the property than living creatures!" A pause. "Excluding the bees!"
"But I thought ghosts only came back if they had unfinished business…"
"Don't act like there are rules for something that doesn't exist!"
It was quiet again, as clearly a lot of digesting had to happen for both parties.
"So… This whole time, you thought I was talkin' about Mr. Sebastian?" Bard said at last.
"I can't comprehend how you thought we would have been talking about anyone other than Sebastian," Ciel hissed.
"You said 'father'!"
"Th-There's no way I did! I would never do something like that!"
"I don't mean to insult you, honest! I-I called a teacher 'ma' once when I was a boy! It just slipped out, that's all there was to it! It's nothin' to be ashamed of!"
"I didn't say it! You just misheard me!" Ciel's voice was growing strained. He seemed earnestly worn-out, as his next words were, "This has to be the stupidest conversation I've ever had in my life! The farrier has been waiting outside for ages, can we please go join him now?!"
"A-A-A 'course we can! I'm sorry I misunderstood you, but, well, I hope you can see why I was so confused…"
"Stop talking about this already! Ugh, you're lucky I'm so patient with you lot…"
That was the last of the conversation Sebastian could hear.
He had left the kitchen in a flash the second he heard Bard coming to investigate the "ghost." There was no way Sebastian could have faced the two of them under those circumstances, nor seen the look on Ciel's face when he received confirmation that he'd called Sebastian by the wrong title...
This wasn't the first time this had happened. Years ago, when Ciel was barely eleven, he'd made a mistake similar to Bard's, calling Sebastian 'father' while they were in the midst of a latin lesson. As soon as the word left the boy's mouth, he'd realized it, and hastily, blushingly, went about correcting himself. Sebastian had been highly entertained by this display of regret. For the rest of the day, Ciel had not been able to look at his butler without a sheen of mortification reflecting in his blue eye.
It didn't feel entertaining now. It felt like a crystal ball prediction of what he and his charge's relationship would become if he wasn't careful. He had just made his peace with the idea of at least assisting Ciel through the bouts of adolescence… but a guardian he wasn't and could never be. That would ruin the soul. That would ruin everything he had worked so hard for. It would ruin him. The only one it wouldn't ruin was Ciel Phantomhive.
For the rest of the afternoon up into nightfall, demon and master scarcely spoke. When Ciel went to his bedroom and didn't call for assistance, Sebastian felt his body relax. With the young master in bed, the entire house had gone to sleep. Now at last he could be alone.
Aah, what a grueling day… Even if his after-hours work still consisted of cleaning up after the other servants, making various small repairs around the manor, and balancing the checkbook, it would be a welcome break compared to everything else he had endured. It all circled back to the young master. He had been so impossible at every turn, hated Sebastian at every turn, and yet still there was some internal part of Ciel that saw his butler as a par... Well. The dreaded word.
Sebastian knew he could only blame himself. He still hadn't figured out how to be patient with the boy without being too gentle; how to scold him without coming across as concerned. He no longer knew which way was up or down. Was the conniving demon escorting the child to adulthood because he was worried the soul would not properly mature either? Or was the sympathy beast jeopardizing the taste of the meal Sebastian had worked so very hard to preserve? And even though this was entirely new territory, why did Sebastian sometimes have the feeling he knew exactly what to say in order to bring Ciel down from the precipice of sadness, anger, fear?
That aspect worried him the most. Why did he know what to do when he had never done this before? Been any sort of... surrogate, for anybody. Was it just that he knew the boy so well after years of trailing in his stride? Or was there some parasite inside him that made him this way; some little organism that could get inside his mind and change his behavior?
Sebastian could still not say which answer worried him more.
His trepidation only spiked when he entered the so-called servant's office and saw, next to Ciel's ever-growing stack of invitations, there was a letter addressed to him. Who in the world would be writing me? Sebastian snatched the letter up immediately and studied the handwriting. That script… it could only belong to Undertaker. Anger was a pulse in his core as he tore open the envelope to see just what message that bothersome excuse for a human had sent him...
Salutations, Butler ~ !
It's been a while, hehehe…
I've missed you, so why don't you come and visit sometime soon?
I'd love to hear more about you and your adventures with the little lord. I'm sure you wouldn't want him to learn about our little adventure, after all...
Looking forward to seeing you again ~
Sebastian opened the mouth of the office's potbelly stove and thrust the letter inside to burn apart.
That's what he got for trusting the damn Undertaker… As if he'd had much choice. Sebastian closed his eyes, sighing. He despised feeling that anyone other than his contracted had some power over him, some bargaining chip they could use at any moment. But Undertaker's arsenal of information truthfully wouldn't make for much of an attack against him. Sebastian's own fears were the real source of any power Undertaker possessed. Besides, Sebastian could use the laughing bastard right back. If they worked together to uncover the reason behind the sympathy beast, then Sebastian would have his answers, and Undertaker's life would go back to mattering as much (or as little) as it ever had.
All of a sudden, the sound of small footsteps lit the air.
Sebastian swept over to the desk to make himself look busy, but there had been no need for haste. The owner of the footsteps took his time coming into the room, and even once he got there, he seemed bleary-eyed and distracted.
"My lord." Sebastian turned to face the boy. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour? It is nearly two a.m."
Ciel had foregone slippers or a dressing gown and was only wearing the knee-length nightshirt he went to sleep in. He had an uncertain atmosphere around him. His gaze was trained somewhat below eye-level.
"I can't sleep," Ciel answered at last. "I thought, if I'm just going to lay there, I may as well do something useful." Sebastian watched him slouch into the room and wander behind the cherry-wood davenport desk to sit in the room's only chair. "Let's work on the letters."
"Oh." Sebastian blinked. "Now, sir? I think your time would be better spent on something more relaxing, if you're feeling overly awake."
Ciel shook his head slowly. "No, I want to work on this."
Sebastian was torn. He could guess why Ciel was here. The boy wasn't the easiest sleeper, but once he managed to drift off, he generally stayed that way through the night, unless something woke him up. The weather outside was peaceful, the wind quiet, and there was no mention of feeling sick again. The disturbance was almost certain to have been a nightmare.
But Ciel seemed not to want to talk about it. Should Sebastian mention it? Or should he be relieved the young master was sparing him that personal conversation?
"Sir, I really think…"
Ciel stared at him wearily, pleadingly. Sebastian could not bear to face such a look.
"... Let's… begin with the most important events first."
In a few minutes, they were ready to get started. On the tabletop, Sebastian laid open Ciel's personal docket and flipped to the month of May. "So far, the only major events you've been too busy to attend were the Great Spring Show and the London Philatelic Exhibition… neither of which I imagine you'll be very upset about," he began. "Next week, June starts with the Trooping the Color. On the 15th, you'll attend the opening day of the Queen's Club Championships. I know tennis isn't your favorite sport to watch, but it's the tournament's first year in Kensington, so it would be appropriate to go and show your support. Three days later, you'll attend the Ascot to watch the Royal Hunt Cup. Then the 30th is the first day of Wimbledon; a week after is the start of the Henley Royal Regatta; and the reopening of Battersea Bridge will be on the 21st of July. And sometime before September, we'll want to be certain you see the Royal Military Exhibition and the Summer Exhibition…"※
Sebastian said all this clearly, calmly, but he was not thinking about his words a bit. Ciel was digesting none of this information. His eyes glazed over the calendar, scarcely attentive to Sebastian's gloved finger roving from date to date. The truth was, neither of them wanted to do this right now. The world of dreams hadn't let Ciel out of its clutches yet. Sebastian was only rambling on about future appointments to avoid talking about the real reason Ciel was out of bed. Maybe Ciel even knew that. Maybe they had both constructed separate facades as a shield against the terrible truth: that they were afraid.
Ciel was staring at him now. Sebastian realized he had stopped talking, and without words came the silence. The dreaded silence. The honest silence.
... This was silly. He was a demon. He was not going to live in fear of anything, not even himself. That would not be living.
Sebastian crouched down on one knee to make himself shorter than the boy. He tilted his head to one side and asked, "Young master, are you unable to sleep because of a nightmare?"
Ciel looked at Sebastian with an exhausted surprise that seemed to come from a far-off part of him. He returned his attention to the almanac. "It doesn't matter. Let's pencil in the exhibitions for early August. I'll have the most free time when the Season is winding down, and I know July is going to be completely full."
"Never mind the exhibitions. Now isn't the time to talk about that. It's very late, and you need to be in bed. If you went back upstairs now, would you be able to fall asleep?"
"If I were able to fall asleep, I wouldn't be down here." Ciel frowned. "Don't tell me to go to bed. This is what I want to do right now."
"Is this what you want to do," Sebastian began, "or is it what feels safer to do?"
"Safer?" Ciel growled. "Why would it feel safer to go through the mail? What the hell are you on about?"
"Not necessarily going through the mail. But being somewhere outside of your bedroom. Being around others. Avoiding having a nightmare."
"Stop pretending you understand me!" the boy snapped. "What's with you today? It's like you're trying to make me angry at you! Why can't you just be normal?!"
"Normal, sir?"
"Normal!" Ciel repeated. "Someone who doesn't keep asking me what's wrong when everything's fine!"
Sebastian offered a benign smile. "But everything isn't fine, is it?"
Ciel pointed forcefully. "Like that! Stop saying things like that!"
"Young master, we need to discuss what happened during the mission."
The hand faltered. "... Where is that coming from? What's there to discuss?"
"I know you don't want to, but I think it's very necessary that we look more closely at the times where your anxieties consumed you."
Ferocity entered Ciel's tone. "Why?! What's the point in doing that? Honestly, can't we just get back to the mail?"
"If you still wish to go over the letters after we talk about the mission, I promise we can keep working on it. But right now, this seems more important."
"Why do you get to decide that without me?!" Ciel leapt to his feet. "I'm trying to forget about all that stupidity, but it seems like both you and my dreams won't let me! Awake, asleep, I can't escape no matter what I do! Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe I'm sick of being upset all the time?! I don't want to dwell on the things that make me feel useless! I want to push forward!" He slammed his palm on the desk. "I want to keep going!"
Ciel breathed heavily as he stood over Sebastian. Otherwise, it was silent.
"Ah, young master."
Sebastian raised his chin, smiling up at the boy primly.
"Our goals are not so different, you know."
Ciel plopped back in the chair when Sebastian suddenly stood to his feet and rounded the desk. He watched as Sebastian snatched the first letter off the top of the stack and tore back the wax seal. "Very well, sir. As you said, let's keep going."
"O-Okay…" said Ciel, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.
Sebastian removed the paper and read aloud, "Lady Augustine is inviting you to observe a game of lawn tennis and have brunch at her home along with other guests on the 23rd of June. Would you like to attend that event?"
Ciel was studying Sebastian carefully. "Lady Augustine is close with Aunt Francis, so it wouldn't be right to turn her down."
"Perhaps," said Sebastian. "But, I ask again: would you like to attend that event?"
Ciel hunched his shoulders, wary. "Not... really."
Sebastian put the card aside and opened the next letter. "Lord Sterne wonders if you would like to hear a private concert at his residence on the 5th of July."
"Private concerts aren't so bad. I can go to that one."
"But would you like to go?"
"I just said they aren't so bad."
Sebastian smirked. "My lord has trouble answering this question properly."
"If it were just about doing things I liked, I'd probably scarcely go to any of these," Ciel huffed, throwing out his arms. "Maybe even none of them. But it's not about what I like."
"In the past, it hasn't been," Sebastian said. "I was wondering if perhaps we should change that."
Ciel cupped his chin, leaning on his elbow. "What's your plan for that? I can't just suddenly enjoy all these parties."
"No. But you can avoid going to them altogether."
Ciel was staring at Sebastian like he was speaking a different language. "I can't say 'no' to everybody, you idiot, it would look like I was trying to send a message! What would people say if I didn't do anything all summer?! They'd probably think I felt like I was too good for anyone else, or that I was acting like a hermit!"
"I don't think you should do nothing all summer either. But I do have to wonder… if the young master were to paint his own picture of the Season, how would it look?"
"Probably how it does any other time of year," Ciel grumbled. "Work, studies, recreation. The very occasional and sparing party." He furrowed his brow. "I feel like you're trying to get at something here, but I can't tell what it is. Out with it."
"Very well, sir." Sebastian tucked the stack of letters into the nook of his arm. "I was thinking that, perhaps instead of going to many small parties, my lord would rather throw one very large event and invite all the people who sent him letters to attend. And when questioned why you were busy, you could answer that it was in preparation."
"..." Ciel leaned back in the old chair, making it creak loudly. He shook his head. "No... no, no. That wouldn't work as an excuse. People throw parties and attend others' parties every Season. I should be able to do the same."
"Young master," said Sebastian, "you are fourteen years old."
"I don't understand what that has to do with any of this..." Ciel groaned.
"Plenty, sir. What an expectation it is, to have to do so much at your age." Sebastian raised his eyebrows to show he was being facetious. "Yes, I know you hate to hear that. You don't have to believe it. So long as other people believe it, that is what will allow you to escape the careful scrutiny you so detest. So then." Sebastian held up the first letter. "Would you like to attend Lady Augustine's brunch?"
Ciel ducked his chin. "No."
"Very well, sir." Sebastian cleared his throat and recited, "My dear Lady Augustine... I must regretfully decline your kind offer to join you for brunch on the 23rd of June. I have no doubt it will be a most exquisite party, but I have my hands full planning an event of my own. You must imagine that at my age, it is a lot to balance. I hope you can understand, and please do expect an invitation in the mail in the near future. It simply wouldn't be the same without your attendance. Humbly yours…"
And then Sebastian opened the stove's furnace door and fed Lady Augustine's letter to the fire.
Ciel's mouth was open when Sebastian turned back. He looked almost dazzled with disbelief. "You're fully serious right now?" he said. "You're actually going to let me spend my summer doing whatever I want?"
"I wouldn't put it exactly like that," Sebastian chuckled. "I think you should absolutely throw a very large and impressive party for all the people you don't plan on seeing who kindly invited you to their socials. But I think it should be the sort of party you would like to attend." He thumbed over to the next letter. "Now, would you like to go to the concert at Lord Sterne's manor?"
"No," said Ciel, with a sly mirth just under the surface of the word.
"How about the dinner hosted by Lord and Lady Thrussell's daughter?"
"Not at all." There was genuine relish in his voice now.
"And the cricket match to be played in Mr. Hendry's garden, accompanied by hors d'oeuvres?"
"Definitely not! Watching Edward's match was all the cricket I needed for a whole year!"
So it went for the next eight letters, with Ciel joining him by the stove to throw the paper into the flames. Sebastian would remember the contents of every single note burned and would respond accordingly, so there was no reason to hold back. The boy was grinning wickedly, the hearth casting orange light on his face, as he gorged the merry fire on paper and ink. Its crackling voice sang back its approval.
Eventually, Sebastian caught Ciel yawning and put the envelopes aside. "That's enough of that for now, I think. You should give sleep another attempt."
"Yeah. Sort of got caught up in it. Forgot what time it was." Ciel moved reluctantly away from the furnace warming his legs. He shot Sebastian another probing glance. "You're serious about this? You're going to let me say no to every single one of these?"
Sebastian bowed his head. "If that is what you want, sir."
"I shouldn't want it," Ciel said. He smirked. "But I'm not going to pretend it isn't exactly what I want."
"Very good. Now, allow me to light your way back, young master."
Ciel strode a few feet ahead of Sebastian, but both were perfectly illuminated in the golden orb the candle made. The house somehow seemed more quiet than ever with their steps tapping down the halls and up the staircases. Sebastian wondered if he should break that silence. Ciel did it first.
"You'd think I'd be afraid of fire, after everything that's happened here. Maybe I'm a fool not to be. But I think I find it sort of comforting."
The flame wavered, as if realizing it was the topic of conversation.
"That's why I liked burning the letters so much. There's such a feeling of finality when something turns to ash. You know it can never come back. You know it's really gone forever."
Ciel seemed to need no provocation to speak. Sebastian did not interrupt him.
"I think that's why there's a part of me that feels… guilty and sick, when I think about those boys at the Hundred Acres. I want to look back on the mission and think, 'Ah, right, they're gone. They aren't suffering anymore, and they won't have me to blame for that.' And then I won't have to suffer either… It sounds selfish when I put it that way. As if I'm playing God. But looking back, I can only feel selfish that I didn't burn it all. I let them keep their suffering. Should they forgive me for that?"
"You could ask them yourself," said Sebastian, "if it would bring you peace."
"They're children. They're too young to know all the burdens I've left them." Ciel sighed out his nose. "... but… despite what I feel right now… I think I would like to become someone who didn't want to burn things."
Sebastian felt the corners of his mouth lift just slightly. "Poetically put, my lord."
"Tuh." The small procession stopped in front of the master bedroom. "Back to normal now, are you?"
"Sir?"
"Never mind." Ciel opened the door. "Don't let me sleep past noon tomorrow, all right? We have work to do."
"Certainly, my lord. Rest well now."
Sebastian was then left alone in the hallway with the candle. He had no need for it on his own. He went to blow it out like he usually did… but, after a second thought, Sebastian kept the light his companion as he wandered back into the darkness.
※Great Spring Show: the Royal Horticultural Society's flower show, now known as the Chelsea Flower Show
London Philatelic Exhibition: a stamp exhibit celebrating the 50th anniversary of penny postage... I can't say I would be very enthusiastic about attending either
Trooping the Color: the presentation and inspection of the entire British Infantry by the Queen, with full uniform and hundreds of musicians. It continues to get a big turn-out today
Queen's Club Championships: a grass court tennis tournament
Wimbledon: more tennis
Henley Royal Regatta: a week-long rowing event that takes place on the Thames
Battersea Bridge: I'm not sure if there's anything truly special about this bridge, other than it being a fixture of London that was repaired and reopened July 21, 1890