Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything felt very strange today, and Sebastian was only making it worse. Naturally, Ciel thought with a frown. Sebastian was good for making things worse. The only difference was, today the idiot was acting like he was making things better somehow. Hmph. And here Ciel thought the damn demon couldn’t get any denser, but of course Sebastian would find a way…

What was the point of trying to make things better, anyway? To rub in how wrong everything was? Or maybe Sebastian was mad he couldn’t make Ciel’s feet the right size or cut Ciel’s hair properly the first time around, so he blabbered on about how it wasn’t so bad and they could deal with it together or… or whatever.

Ciel resisted the urge to rub his temple as he wandered downstairs to the basement and the kitchen. Wasn’t today annoying enough on its own? Didn’t he have enough on his mind without Sebastian trying to turn everything into a big conversation? Couldn’t he just complain about things without Sebastian having to… say something… try to assuage him or… oh never mind, even thinking about this was too much of a pain. He’d rather just forget the whole day.

Well… perhaps Sebastian wasn’t totally good-for-nothing. This afternoon’s fanchonettes had been pretty tasty, with their toasted peaks of meringue and chocolate custard filling. Sebastian had brought three of the pastries to the study, which was one more pastry than Ciel was usually offered, though it was probably a bribe to try and placate him. Ciel sniffed, raising his chin. Well, it hadn’t worked. In fact, he could still go for another. Maybe if Sebastian wasn’t cooking or washing dishes, Ciel could even check the dry-larder for the rest and have one more before he joined up with Bard and Avalon.

Ciel walked into the kitchen and… blast, Sebastian was at the sink. Ciel paused in the entranceway, thinking. Could Sebastian be bullied into allowing him another dessert? Maybe… but it wasn’t worth having Bard or Tanaka overhear such a petty argument. How annoying. Irritation threatened, but then Ciel’s eye fell on the area where Sebastian kept the tea and its accouterments. Oh, sugar cubes. That would be a nice treat for Avalon. Why not for himself too? He could play that off easily. Perfect.

So Ciel trod over to the pantry while announcing, “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.” It was a good opportunity to remind Sebastian to back off and not lose his head over his master’s business, too.

Ciel took the lid from the sugar bowl and used a pair of tongs to drop cubes into his hand just as he heard Sebastian bid him, “Certainly, sir. I hope all goes well.” Ciel popped the sugar into his mouth while pocketing six more of the treats and mumbled an “Mm-mn” of acknowledgement. Oh, maybe he should have been more careful — his murmured response had probably given away that he’d eaten one. Ciel anticipated some stupid comment from Sebastian about cavities, prepared to snark back in advance… but surprisingly the comment never came. Maybe Sebastian hadn’t even noticed what he’d done? Or, more likely, the idiot was tired of incurring Ciel’s wrath and decided not to mention the sugar snack. Hmph. Good. As Ciel strolled over to the little hallway that led to the tack room and stables, he wondered briefly if he could have gotten away with sneaking a fanchonette after all.

The temperature dropped a few degrees once he was in the stable. It was an area that had been well-designed for his horses: able to accommodate good airflow in the summer and retain heat in the coldest days of winter. Right now, most of the horses were out in the paddocks grazing after having their turn with the farrier. Only Avalon was still left in the stable. Bard had suggested letting the nervous horse hear the sound of the nippers and smell the burning of the hooves as the other horses were hot-shod, so that Avalon might anticipate that he would soon undergo the same process and not feel so nervous. But ultimately it was decided between Ciel, Bard, and the farrier that it would be safer having Avalon cold-shod outside the stable instead. The shy horse felt mostly secure in his stall, but only as long as he wasn’t in there for too long — and as long as anyone else that entered the stall with him exercised caution. Even so, the process of having his hooves picked at while indoors might just stir up Avalon’s fear response and have him thrashing.

Ciel felt his calf twinge as he remembered even the small kick he’d received when he tried to visit Avalon in his stall. Sebastian’s words popped into his head: “Avalon clearly knows what power he has in his hooves, and how to exact that power. If he wanted to, he could have done more damage. Much more.” Ciel hated to think the demon had been right, but there was no two ways about it: he had been. Seeing Avalon tied to a partition in the stable now, with his hind legs somewhat facing the servant’s entrance, made Ciel distinctly aware of how cautious he needed to be around the large animal.

So Ciel stayed well out of kicking range and clucked his tongue to let Avalon know he was near, even if the horse’s incredible range of vision put Ciel in his sights. The horse’s ear twisted round and then the rest of his head turned to acknowledge the human. Ciel half-smiled and said, “Yes, hello. You’re going to be shod now, do you know that?” The horse flicked his tail and kept his huge eyes on Ciel. Still so wary. Well, that was to be expected, Ciel supposed. It had only been a month since Avalon had gotten here, after all. Only a month since he had been trapped with the body of his old master, with the iron smell of fresh death filling his brain for hours in a row. Ciel felt sick just thinking about it. He forced himself to stop thinking about it.

Avalon had one of his back hooves cocked in a resting position, and Ciel took the opportunity to study its visible underside. He wrinkled his nose at it. It was overgrown and clogged with muck and hay, well overdue for a trim. It had likely been eight or nine weeks since Avalon last had his hooves looked after, as opposed to the usual six weeks that Ciel’s horses went between appointments, which certainly wouldn’t do. Anxious or not, a Phantomhive horse with unkempt hooves was not a thing to be born.

Still keeping a respectful distance, Ciel walked closer to Avalon’s head and started digging in his pocket for one of the sugar cubes. He had it in his hand and was reaching out to offer it when Bard suddenly burst out of a nearby stall and said, “H-Hey, perfect timing, young master! I suppose Tanaka told you we’d be ready about now? Oh, and what’s that ya got there?”

Ciel blinked, thrown off. Bard seemed slightly anxious, his smile all wrong. Did he still have some leftover caution about Ciel interacting with the stable’s latest horse without supervision? How annoying. “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?” Ciel emphasized these points, to make it clear to Bard that he understood how to be safe around his horses, that he really didn’t require such smothering at all, thank you very much.

It hadn’t seemed to work. Bard shifted his weight and scratched at his rough-shaven face, gaze drifting to the side as his grin remained lopsided. “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...”

Oh, for goodness’ sake… what was there to get tongue-tied over? Ciel had already promised Bard he would be safer from here on, he wouldn’t let Avalon kick him again, and he opened his mouth to retort this fact. But then a realization occurred: perhaps Bard’s hesitation was not related to Ciel, but to Sebastian. Maybe Bard was looking to avoid a scolding? Ciel knew Sebastian could put the fear of God (if one could call it that) into maid, cook, and gardener with only a glance. Could that be the case, then?

Ah well, what did it matter really… Time to put this to rest either way. “Sebastian just said it was fine, so don’t worry about getting in trouble.”

Ciel had expected maybe relief, at most, as a response. What he definitely hadn’t been expecting was an expression of complete and total confusion.

Ciel was about to comment on it, when Bard maneuvered his features into something that was clearly trying and failing to be casual. “Oh… Uhm…” Bard’s mouth twitched, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face. “Is that… er… usual? For you to see him?”

… Huh?

Usual? To see Sebastian? Obviously it was usual… Was that supposed to be a joke? It wasn’t really funny, but what the hell else could it be? “I wish it weren’t usual, but unfortunately, yes, I see far too much of him,” Ciel decided to answer. May as well throw in a jab at his butler’s expense while the opportunity had presented itself, he decided, especially since Sebastian could probably still hear them just fine from the kitchen.

“Whoa!” Bard responded with honest surprise, making Ciel flinch back. S.. So he isn’t joking around…? “A-Are you tellin’ me you’re bein’ haunted, young master?!”

Haunted. They were almost certainly having a miscommunication of some kind. But, heh, Sebastian’s constant overbearing presence was a bit like a haunting… “Well, that certainly is one way of putting it,” said Ciel, smirking now. If this conversation was going to be weird, he may as well use it as an excuse to keep insulting Sebastian until he could figure out what was really going on.

But now Bard seemed kind of scared. He was looking around the stable from all angles, as if checking for bats. “D-Do you see him right now?! Is he in here?”

For a second, Ciel could only stare. Okay, they were definitely talking about Sebastian… right? Bard would never refer to Finny or Tanaka or even the farrier with such apprehension. “What? No, he’s not in here! I just told you, he’s in the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen?!” Bard’s eyes were huge with terror. “Is that where he always is?!”

Such an odd thing to say! “Of course not! He follows me around half the day, how could he always be in the kitchen?! Don’t you think you’d have noticed?!” Ciel was having trouble not matching Bard’s volume. Am I watching a man lose his mind right in front of me?

It seemed very possible: Bard’s eyes were glazed and his mouth was ajar like his thoughts were going a mile a minute. Ciel used the silence to try and come to a conclusion about what was happening here. Bard had shown he was potentially nervous of a scolding — more nervous than usual. Had Sebastian done something to make Bard so afraid?

Ciel went over the prior conversation as quickly as he could. Bard had started acting like this when Ciel told him not to worry about getting in trouble with Sebastian. And then Bard had seemed surprised that Ciel and Sebastian had talked about giving Avalon sugar just a moment earlier, so… That had to be where the area where the trouble lay.

Ciel sighed out his nose, angry again as he thought of that damn demon. He should have realized. If Sebastian was willing to give Ciel a piece of his mind for riding Avalon, what had he said to Bard about it all those weeks ago? Maybe Sebastian had given the chef the dressing down of a lifetime. And… maybe that had included baring fangs, stretching shadows, and now Bard was completely traumatized. Oh, for God’s sake, Sebastian, you had better not be threatening the servants with those awful demon tricks of yours, how idiotic can you get…

Meanwhile, Bard had finally managed to find his voice again. “Young master… I had no idea… I’m so sorry…” he was saying weakly.

Right, well, it was still very strange that somehow Bard hadn’t caught on to the fact that Sebastian spent a majority of the workday outside the scullery. “I have no idea how you haven’t noticed, but your sympathy is appreciated.” Another jab for the nearly-omnipotent Sebastian. I know you can hear all this from the sink and are deliberately being unhelpful, you stupid bastard…

Bard pointed weakly past Ciel, to the tack room entrance that led to the scullery. “So, are you sayin’ he’s… in the kitchen right now?”

Ciel nodded, raising an eyebrow. “He was just there a minute ago, so he probably hasn’t left.”

Both Avalon and Ciel were then startled as Bard practically howled, “R-R-Really?! And if I went in, you wager I’d see him?!”

What the hell, now he wants to see Sebastian? Something is really wrong here! “Yes! Why wouldn’t you see him?! Are your eyes as bad as Mey-Rin’s all of a sudden?!”

When Bard abruptly sprang forward, Ciel had to nearly fling himself to the side to get out of the way. He felt like his jaw was about to hit the floor. Sebastian, what have you done, you turned Bard into a blabbering lunatic! I hope you’re happy with yourself because now it’s your problem to sort! Avalon stamped his front hoof and shook his head about it all. “Yes, I completely understand your feelings,” Ciel huffed, patting the gelding’s long neck before deciding to follow Bard due to the grip of curiosity. He needed to get to the bottom of this mess immediately…

But as Ciel finished walking down the narrow corridor, he heard Bard announce from the kitchen, “Ehm… I don’t see him.”

Dammit, what a fine time for Sebastian to leave! Ciel stood next to Bard and folded his arms. “Well, then he’s not here! Good grief! You’re acting like he’s some sort of rare bird!” he cried.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Bard was blathering. “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? Now what are you on about?” Hmm, Bard did mention ‘being haunted’ before, back when I thought he was just making a strange joke. Sebastian, what the devil did you do and why are you leaving me to manage this all by myself…

“Oh! Um, maybe you call it… a-a spirit. Or… an apparition? H-Him, I mean, not it.” Even more confusingly, now Bard seemed like he was trying to be… polite?

“I can promise you, I’d much sooner call him an ‘it’ than a spirit,” said Ciel. Especially if he insists on acting like a beast! Oh, I’ve really got some choice words for him now…

Bard was shaking his head slowly. “No, I… I wouldn’t ever call him ‘it’... That’d be disrespectful…” Then Bard gave an exhausted sigh, and drooped his shoulders forward, and finally looked at Ciel with such a frank, imploring expression that it was instantly clear he hadn’t gone senile just yet. “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…”

………………………………………?

Ciel stared at Bard. Bard stared at Ciel. They both stared at each other.

“What are you talking about,” Ciel said.

“I… Uh…” Bard didn’t even look like he knew what he was talking about. Sweat had beaded on his hairline. He scratched at the back of his neck. “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...?”

…………………………………???!!!

Ciel’s thoughts, which had temporarily seemed to flee him, stormed rushingly back loud and clear.

“... Why in…? What?! ” Ciel’s voice hit a pitch he didn’t know it could reach. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so focused on the insane turn of this already insane conversation. “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 cried.

I said I was talking to my what?! “I never said that!”

“You said that you just asked your father if it was okay to feed Avalon sugar!”

Now Ciel felt like the one whose thoughts were going a mile a minute. “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 shouted, bewildered. “Where did you get ‘father’ from that?”

Bard’s expression was wiped clean. “Eh… Um… You… You definitely said… ‘Father’ just then in the stables, sir…” Bard responded in a small voice.

For an instant, Ciel felt cold inside. Then his face began to grow fiercely hot as horrible realization set in. Oh no. It’s happened again, hasn’t it. No, no, no, nonononono—

“W-Why would I say ‘father’ when I meant Sebastian?” Ciel stammered, even though all of a sudden everything seemed very, very terrible. Maybe I can convince him he heard me wrong! Maybe I can deny it! No, how could I make such a mistake without noticing?! He’s got to be wrong! Please say he’s wrong!

Bard was looking sheepish now, and it made Ciel want to scream out loud. “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!” Yes, let’s talk about that instead!

“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!” Oh wait, the bees. “Excluding the bees!”

“But I thought ghosts only came back if they had unfinished business…”

Ciel shook his head. “Don’t act like there are rules for something that doesn’t exist!”

Bard gazed off thoughtfully then — or thoughtlessly, more likely. Ciel found himself glaring hard at the other man, desperately willing him to forget everything that had just happened. But Ciel needed to wrap his head around the situation too. All right, let’s pretend for a second that I did say ‘father’ instead of Sebastian, which I most certainly didn’t. Bard thought that I was saying I had conversations with… Vincent Phantomhive… who would be a ghost. So… my ghost father. Bloody hell, this is stupid. All right, then he asked if I often saw ‘my father’ and I said yes, which… prompted the haunting question. Dammit. That checks out. Then I apparently said ‘my father’ was in the kitchen, which is why Bard was so scared yet so curious to see him… And that’s what led to all the apologizing and asking how to refer to ‘my father’ appropriately… and… and…

God dammit, I really did just call Sebastian ‘father’ without even noticing!!!

“So… This whole time, you thought I was talkin’ about Mr. Sebastian?” Bard was suddenly asking.

Gathering himself, Ciel took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He had no interest in losing control of his voice’s pitch again. “I can’t comprehend how you thought we would have been talking about anyone other than Sebastian,” he managed to respond with care.

“You said ‘father’!”

Ciel lost control of his pitch immediately. “Th-There’s no way I did! I would never do something like that!”

Bard held up his hands, trying to smile to show benevolence, but that pissed Ciel off even more. “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!” I’ll deny it to the grave! Dammit, Bard, I’d rather you had been going crazy from seeing Sebastian’s demon tricks! Why won’t you just quit prattling on already?! Oh, wait — I’m in charge here! I can make him quit prattling on! “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?!” Ciel snapped, shooting the chef his angriest warning glower.

Bard finally got the message to let the matter go. He still gave another nervous half-laugh first. “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…”

Then Ciel turned heel and stormed back through the hallway and the tack room and the stable, past Avalon and out into the sunshine without waiting for Bard. He needed a moment to himself to shake off the humiliation — and to try to get ahold of his thoughts, which were deafening him with embarrassment. I just called Sebastian ‘father’ without noticing! Why would I do that?! How is that possible? Do I misspeak like that often?! Can I trust myself anymore?! What is wrong with me?! Did Sebastian hear me say that before he left the kitchen?! Oh God, what if he did? He’ll be ribbing me about it for certain the second he sets eyes on me! He couldn’t let it alone the first time either, what will he possibly say now… I don’t even want to think about it…

Ciel stood there in the yard, clenching and unclenching his fists, hearing the blood rushing past his eardrums. He’d never forget the first time it happened, back when he was only eleven. It was at the end of a Latin lesson that had been particularly strenuous. Ciel had had a bad dream the night before, so he had been tired and struggled with his studies. Sebastian had been trying, with thin patience, to remind Ciel about true ablative cases versus locative and associative-instrumental ablative, and everything seemed to be blending together into a confusing mess. Then three o’clock had chimed, which was supposed to signal the end of their session. With a sigh of relief, Ciel had begun putting away his materials.

“Ahem. Why are you closing your workbooks?” Sebastian had said pointedly.

Ciel had furrowed his brow. “Because we’re done for today. We’ll finish going over all this tomorrow instead.”

That hadn’t been a good enough excuse. “Need I remind you who is the tutor here and who is the student? The lesson is done when I say so.” Sebastian then shot the boy a mean little smirk. “Open your books again, please.”

But Ciel hadn’t wanted to study anymore, and it was supposed to be time for a snack. “I’m not learning anything from this, you’re doing a bad job. Plus I’m hungry, and you’re annoying me.”

“My, what ungentlemanly behavior. This wouldn’t do at all in college; it would be far more appropriate to thank the professor for granting time outside of class to such a difficult pupil as yourself. Hmm?”

“Look, father, you—”

Ciel’s throat had seemed to close up almost immediately after the word passed his lips. He felt shock like ice in his core. When was the last time he had referred to someone as father? Obviously since the time when his father was still alive. It was a word that Ciel thought had grown foreign to his tongue, because he was always so careful to refer to Vincent Phantomhive by name or as his “predecessor.” Why had it emerged now? And why in reference to…

Ciel blinked back into the moment. Had that actually just happened? Or had he imagined it? He looked at Sebastian to gauge his response.

Sebastian was clearly surprised. His eyes were wide with it. But that expression didn’t last long before it twisted into wry amusement.

Ciel felt his stomach sinking fast. His heartbeat was a hammer. “W-Wait, I… I didn’t mean to say that at all!” he’d corrected hastily. “That was… It was just because… Obviously it was just a mistake!” Quick — had they done a religious translation that day? Maybe that was why the word ‘father’ had slipped out so easily? Suddenly, it was hard to think or speak. Ciel felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. He could only stare on and hope Sebastian would spare him any more shame.

Sebastian wasn’t interested in sparing him. He had been looking at Ciel frankly, mockingly. “The guilty are always so fast to correct,” he’d tutted. Ciel swallowed, feeling sick. “Well, I suppose it isn’t any wonder that you have such trouble with Latin if your native tongue is failing you now. Or is there something you’d like to tell me, young master?”

“No! I-I don’t see you as anything other than a damn demon, all right?!” Ciel had shouted back, blushing profusely.

“Hmm, is that so? We should hope the Romans weren’t correct when they said, Falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus, then, shouldn’t we?”

“I-I don’t know!”

“You don’t know? Oh dear, my lord, your Latin truly is lacking…”

“I know what it means! I just meant… oh, never mind!”

“Hmm, young master, where are you going? I didn’t dismiss class yet.”

“I don’t care! Leave me alone! Don’t talk to me about this ever again! That’s an order!”

“Never again? I think it shall be rather difficult to teach Latin without speaking of ablative cases…”

“You know what I meant! N-Now stop joking and never mention that again!”

So Sebastian hadn’t. But that order couldn’t stop Sebastian’s chocolate-red gaze from hinting at it for the rest of the day, making Ciel feel nauseated and small, when it was so important that he never, ever showed Sebastian any weakness. The demon was not to be trusted. Not ever!

In the present, Ciel felt a breeze stirring at his hair as the sun went behind a cloud. His eyes narrowed in thought. So he’d really called Sebastian ‘father’ again. Somehow, it felt worse than the first time… in a way. The first time, Ciel had been certain that he didn’t actually see Sebastian as a father. It was just an odd slip of the tongue, with no real meaning behind it. After all, Sebastian Michaelis and Vincent Phantomhive had had two very different roles in Ciel’s life. Sebastian prepared his meals and picked out his wardrobe and looked after his hygiene and put him to bed, but Vincent was a noble and of course had never done any of those things. Ciel’s father had been a rather distant figure, most of the time. He had read books with Ciel and brought back presents from his trips and taught Ciel all about chess, but Vincent was very busy managing the estate and working for the Queen, too. Not even Rachel had looked after her son more than recreationally; the work of childrearing was what nursemaids and governesses and Tanaka were for.

‘Caretaking’ was not a thing Ciel had ever associated with his actual parents. They loved him, that Ciel had always known. As for raising him, until he came of age, that was someone else’s job. It was just the way things were for nobility.

But now that he had lived without his parents for over four and a half years…

Ha! Obviously Ciel didn’t see Sebastian as a father now either! What a stupid idea! Even if the idiot was… less obnoxious lately… he was still unequivocally the worst. And who was to say Sebastian wasn’t waiting for the right moment to rub everything in? To use Ciel’s anxieties during the most recent mission as blackmail or as a means of frightening Ciel someday? This was a demon, after all! There was no heart in that shell. And why would Ciel want there to be one anyway? Those with hearts knew how to break them. Sebastian could only know how to hurt his charge if Ciel let his hand tip.

After a minute, Bard came up behind Ciel with Avalon. He stopped once he was at Ciel’s side. “Erm, young master…” Bard began, sounding strained. Ciel gave him a look that said to tread very, very carefully. Bard gulped, but persevered, “I… I want to apologize for misunderstanding you just now. I should have been a bit smarter. Of course you were talking about Mr. Sebastian! These ears have been around for a while, y’know… Sometimes they get full a’ charcoal and lint, and I don’t hear so good.” With the hand that wasn’t holding Avalon’s reins, Bard knocked on the side of his head with his knuckles. “I can be real thick sometimes, is what I mean, sir. Thanks for being patient with me.”

For a second, Ciel hated Bard immensely. The chef wasn't being honest at all! He was just trying to be nice, and Ciel didn’t ever want anyone to just be nice to him… But the hatred evaporated quickly. This wasn’t just pity Bard was giving him, it was a real effort to grant Ciel an alibi. And who could ever fault a man for giving something his best try, especially a man one employed? Doing so only bred resentment; Ciel’s real father had taught him that much.

“... I’m sure such a mistake won’t happen again in the future,” Ciel said, for both their sakes, and started walking forward.

Bard followed after. “Ah, I guess probably not… But I’m lucky that if it did, the young master would be patient with me.”

What was that about being ‘real thick’ again? Ciel was well aware that Bard was using doublespeak here. Certainly no fool would use it. But Ciel wasn’t interested in any more veiled empathy. In fact, it disgusted him. So he didn’t respond to that at all. He only walked the rest of the way to the farrier and told himself not to think of this ever again.

Right. As if telling himself not to think about something even worked anymore.

Chapter Text

“Well, well! So it seems Funtom has finally given ‘Lord Phantomhive’ his first break!”

The voice cut through his conversation with Mr. Doyle in such a way that it made Ciel want to pull back his upper lip. The trilling humor, the condescension, the inherent smugness… it was that damn nuisance Lord Filbert again! What was the matter with him anyway? Why was he so insistent on picking on his own host? Higher status be damned; Ciel wasn’t going to take another attack lying down.

“Lord Filbert. Can I help you with something?” Ciel said, raising an eyebrow as he looked up at the enormous man from the spindly patio chair he sat in. He let barbs of irritation come through in his tone. He really did not like to be interrupted ever, but in the midst of a conversation with his new favorite author? Unforgivable.

To his disgust, Ciel was met with a widening of that awful smirk Filbert always seemed to possess. “I’m sure I should be the one asking you,” Filbert said, causing Ciel’s eyebrow to tip even more. “Really, I find it quite odd that I’m the only one to express my concerns. What a perplexing little stunt! I shan’t have the wool pulled over my eyes so easily, though. Surely you can be honest with me now, lad. Tell me, what have they done with the real Lord Phantomhive?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ciel said — and he meant it. What kind of a question was that supposed to be? He’d think the man drunk, if Filbert didn’t speak and stand with clear steadiness. But drunkenness would’ve been much easier to consider. What Ciel was dealing with right now was a real affront to his character.

Filbert’s smile took on a hint of annoyance. “Now, now, don’t try and string me along, boy!” he tutted, wagging a large finger right in Ciel’s face. Ciel’s eyes narrowed on the gesture, and across the table he heard Mr. Doyle give a quick intake of breath. “A child, the head of a company? What kind of a lopsided world would this be? A very cute idea, I’ll give Funtom that, but hardly convincing. There’s no need for you to keep up the charade any longer.”

Ah. So, that was how it was. Ciel attempted to smile, but it felt all wrong. He knew he should try and be understanding towards Filbert, but… ugh. It never ceased to disturb him that he could be mistaken for a mere child. The truth of his reputation did not always travel as far or wide as Ciel would have liked. All he could do now was set the record straight and hope that Filbert had the sense of humility to apologize. “Though it may be a difficult truth to entertain, my lord, I am, in fact, Lord Phantomhive and founder of the Funtom Company. This is by no means a gimmick. The reason that you are ‘the only one to express concern’ is because most of the other ladies and gentleman in attendance are familiar with me to some degree.”

Ciel noted Mr. Doyle nodding supportively out of the corner of his vision. That was kind of funny considering the author’s own moment of doubt upon meeting Ciel for the first time a short thirty minutes ago. But at least Doyle had had the courtesy to recognize his mistake. Filbert’s expression didn’t shift an inch after this explanation, meaning he was still disbelieving.

“I’m sure they’ve paid and trained you well to keep the act going,” Filbert said, making rage flare in Ciel’s chest, “but I’m a tough walnut to crack! I’m prepared to keep at it until I get the truth. Now, what will it take for you to admit the farce? I didn’t come all this way not to meet the real genius behind my favorite company.”

“You flatter me.” Ciel didn’t try very hard to keep the bitterness from leaching into his voice. “You’ve met him and are speaking to him now. There’s nothing to admit. I am exactly the person that I say I am.” Ciel found himself tapping his foot without meaning to. Go away so I can get back to my conversation! You’re embarrassing me! Wait… embarrassing me? Why should I be embarrassed? Filbert’s the only shameful one here!

But Ciel was embarrassed, angry too, and the heat only flooded to his face more readily when Filbert responded with another loud guffaw. “I’m not a clype, boy, you can be honest with me,” he said, looming down over Ciel like he had earlier, in a way that made Ciel want to shove the nuisance of a man away. And what the hell is a clype? It sounds awful, so he probably is one! “You’re a good lad, following orders so well. No wonder they picked you to play the part! But it isn’t right to lie, is it? So—”

“M-My lord, with all do respect, he isn’t lying!” Mr. Doyle suddenly interjected. “This is Lord Phantomhive! I’ve only just met him myself, but I promise if you spoke with him for more than a minute, you’d understand that he is definitely the founder of this company!”

Lord Filbert looked at Doyle curiously. “You’ve only just met him, is that so? Well, do you not think there’s a reason for that?”

Doyle sprung to his feet in a moment of foolhardy courage. “I may not be a proud marquis like you with a status to throw around as I see fit, but—”

“Ahem.” Ciel cleared his throat to interrupt, eyeing his tablemate meaningfully. You’re going to get yourself in trouble, you idiot! “Never mind that one,” Ciel continued, standing and tucking his arms behind his back. “Lord Filbert, I simply don’t know what to say to convince you. You want the truth and I am presenting it. But this conversation is beginning to attract unwanted attention. I don’t wish to spoil the atmosphere for the other guests, so we can either continue this discussion elsewhere, or you can keep your reservations about my identity to yourself and choose to enjoy the event regardless.”

Filbert was still smiling (ugh!), yet he also looked like he wasn’t about to budge in any way. But someone in the background was coming to enter the fray, and that person called out, “Filly! Getting yourself into trouble, are you? What are you saying to poor Lord Phantomhive?”

The newcomer was Lord Thrussell, a man far into his fifties, with a demeanor and a physique that said he’d long lived off the fat of his land. He was a friend of Uncle Alexis, and Ciel had been a guest at several of his parties; though boring, he was a kind and harmless man, more or less. Still, Ciel wasn’t yet sure how he should feel about Thrussell’s intrusion, since he was apparently a friend of Filbert too…

Filbert, meanwhile, seemed to know exactly how he felt about it. “Well, if it isn’t old Thrussell! What timing!” he boomed, clapping Thrussell’s hand in a shake once he’d joined them. “I do hope I haven’t gotten myself into any trouble, but I imagine you’ll set the record straight. This boy here claiming to be Lord Phantomhive, are you saying he’s the genuine item?”

The genuine item…? Ciel flinched, then stiffened. What am I, an object?! No, no; sometimes people just talked that way… but that didn’t stop Ciel from feeling like one of his auction prizes sitting behind a glass display case. He tried not to shrink back from Filbert’s accusatory finger once again stabbing at his personal space.

Lord Thrussell slapped Filbert on the shoulder with waggish disapproval. “Yes, of course this is Lord Phantomhive! Did you not see him giving the opening speech at the beginning of the convention? What a lout you are!”

“Really!” Filbert was shocked. He looked at Ciel standing there and then back at his friend. “A boy earl? How unusual. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

Ciel tried to get himself to say or think of a response. A snide remark, a sharp retort, something to put Filbert in his place. Anything. His tongue sat useless in his mouth.

“So this isn’t some type of clever publicity stunt!” Filbert was talking to Thrussell. “I thought Funtom was trying to be cute, saying that a toy company would best be managed by a child! Well, I guess that’s the truth after all. Who would have ever thought! Children do know toys best, don’t they?”

“Maybe so, but it’s about time you made yourself a gracious guest!” Thrussell was laughing along, and he manually turned Filbert around so that the both of them were facing Ciel. “Lord Phantomhive, beg your pardon for this fool’s behavior. This isn’t the first time I’ve pulled him out of a sticky situation, he’s always speaking exactly what comes into his mind. Aren’t you, Filly?”

“Outrageous! Perish the thought!” Filbert was laughing too. Why was this all some big joke to them? Ciel couldn’t bring himself to conjure a smile. It didn’t feel funny to him. It felt like everyone was watching, which may or may not have been true. At the very least Doyle was watching, and that was enough to make Ciel feel humiliated. And to make matters worse, now Filbert was holding out his hand for an apology. “Lord Phantomhive, I am ever so sorry, but I’m sure this happens all the time, you must be used to it. It’s not every day you meet an earl as young as yourself! And I certainly would have appreciated a little warning. But it would seem I was in the wrong today. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Ciel stared at the hand, feeling confused and odd. Why were Thrussell and Filbert still smiling, why were they laughing? This wasn’t funny. Was it funny? Was Doyle laughing? Ciel glanced to the side; Doyle wasn’t. He looked just as concerned as Ciel felt. That made the circumstances feel a bit easier to tolerate, but only a bit: Ciel knew, with a disgusted feeling, that it was only right to forgive Filbert. Not for Filbert’s sake, not an ounce, but for the sake of his guests and his company’s reputation.

So he slowly grasped the hand and tried to look the man he now despised in the eyes. “Yes. I understand that it can be… confusing. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good!” Filbert let go rather fast (finally, a mercy) and laughed. “Drat, I’ve really put my foot in my mouth this time. I had better get out of here, before I can add more fuel to the fire. Thrussell, whisk me off somewhere else, if you please. I’ve already done my worst.”

“Yes, I think I had better, you right idiot!” Lord Thrussell put a hand to Filbert’s back and began mock-pushing him away, though he did shoot Ciel a final, truly apologetic look before they made their departure for the greater garden.

Ciel was left standing in the wake of this attack, feeling like all eyes were on him while seeing, in fact, that very few diners had cared, even with the knives sticking in his heart and gut and throat. He sat back down. It felt impossible to meet Doyle’s gaze.

“Um… a-are you all right, my lord?” Doyle asked him quietly.

It was a kind question, and well-deserved. Ciel was sure he looked awful. He felt awful. Why did that have to happen? Why now? Why did Filbert have to come over and make such a point about his age? When all the proof was there that this was his company’s convention, why wouldn’t Filbert believe that he really was Lord Phantomhive? Why did he continue to doubt in the face of such stifling evidence?

Because you look like a child. Because adults don’t think children are good for anything but being used.

The realization struck Ciel like a palm. It wasn’t a new realization, exactly, but never had he been confronted with it so publicly and directly. It wasn’t just his age that made it impossible for a stranger to believe he could be an earl. It was his age that made it impossible for a stranger to believe anything he said, or did. Filbert only accepted the truth when an adult who also looked like an adult confirmed it. But that isn’t fair. Fair didn’t mean anything. In the eyes of the world, he would always be a child before he would be the owner of a company, the Queen’s watchdog, an earl. Just because he looked like one. That was all that mattered.

“Lord Phantomhive, w-why don’t you have some tea or something to eat? Er…”

He needed to stop thinking about this right now. He was scaring Doyle, and— But it isn’t fair! No, he needed to stop thinking about it. But it isn’t fair! He wasn’t a child, Filbert was wrong, he couldn’t get away with this, but he could, he could, what was Ciel supposed to do? Filbert hadn’t really said anything wrong. Yes, he had. No, he hadn’t. It isn’t fair! He needed to stop thinking about this. He couldn’t stop thinking about this. He never could anymore! It isn’t fair that adults think they can do whatever they want to me just because I’m a child! But he wasn’t a child. But they wouldn’t treat him like this if he was an adult. But why couldn’t they see him as an adult? It isn’t fair! He owned a company, he was the Queen’s watchdog, he was an earl. He repeated it like a mantra: he owned a company. It wasn’t fair. He was the Queen’s watchdog. It wasn’t fair. He was an earl. I was a child. Stop, stop, stop. The thoughts kept coming back to plague him, like a swarm of locusts, like so many moths—

He felt sick. He stood up.

Doyle reached out to him. “L-Lord Phantomhive? Can I—”

“I don’t need anything.” Ciel stepped out of the other man’s potential range. “I just realized I should get back to my station. I’m sorry. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Doyle. I’ll write soon.”

If Doyle responded, and he probably had, the words didn’t reach Ciel. He was already walking away, escaping into Sedgemore House, his ears feeling like they were stuffed with cotton, everything far away and muffled. He needed to get away from there. He needed to get away from everybody. The dimness of the hallway swallowed him. He moved automatically. He nearly ran smack into Erickson as the man came careening around the first bend in the hallway.

Ciel blinked, his reactions feeling one second delayed. Erickson had dodged him and moved past without a word. That would have been just fine, but now Fairclough was standing there staring at him. He looked surprised. “Lord Phantomhive! Are you quite all right? Whatever is the matter?” Ciel heard him say. Voices felt so distant right now, like Fairclough was speaking to him on the other side of a huge room.

What kind of answer was he supposed to give? An answer that would get him away from there. Ciel tried to move around Fairclough, muttering hastily, “Um, it’s, it’s fine, I’m… I’m fine, but I, I need to ask Sebastian something now, sorry—”

Fairclough turned with him as he skirted past. “Wait, please! Isn’t there anything I can do to help? You look as shaken as you did the night of Goode’s party.”

The word “wait” was hard to digest. Ciel obeyed it and faced its speaker too, just in case Fairclough decided grabbing him was the best way to get him to stop. The last thing he needed right now was a person deciding they could control him. And he didn’t want to talk, but he had to do something to keep Fairclough’s worry at bay. He managed, “Eh, no I don’t think… Sorry, I’ve got to tell, er, I need to ask Sebastian something.”

As soon as the words left his mouth a second time, Ciel registered that that was exactly what he wanted. Right, of course, he needed to get to Sebastian, Sebastian would know what to do, he had to know… But Fairclough disagreed. “Lord Phantomhive, please, let me help you. I’ve been able to in the past, I’ve proven myself. Maybe there’s something I can do today, too. Surely I can at least do more than your butler?”

Do something? Could he? Maybe he could… After all, Fairclough wasn’t like Filbert. Fairclough knew Ciel was an adult. He’d called him an adult before. He’d understood how important it was that Ciel was treated like an adult. Nobody else seemed to understand that. Ciel opened his mouth to respond.

“Young master, there you are.”

But Sebastian’s voice was the one that spoke next, and the sound of it brought a surprising rush of relief.

Ciel turned to look at him, at the prim smile Sebastian beamed down. Was there worry in it too? “I thought I heard you from the booth,” Sebastian continued in that strange new tone of his, the one that was worn and soft-cornered like an heirloom. “Did you say you had something you needed to talk to me about?”

Ciel’s own voice felt entirely untrustworthy now. His blue eye filled with the words he couldn’t say. He wasn’t even sure what those words would have been.

Sebastian understood him. “Mr. Fairclough, is there some place that my lord and I might speak in private? The study, perhaps?”

Yes, somewhere private — somewhere no one could see him or touch him without his permission. Ciel heard distantly, “The study is locked right now, and I don’t have the key on my person. There is a guest room upstairs you can use, if that will suffice. It’s the first door to the left at the top of the western stairwell.”

“Yes, I think it will do. Young master?” Sebastian tilted his hand in the direction of the hall, and Ciel followed the instruction without another word. Should he have said something to Fairclough? He didn’t want to have to. He wasn’t sure he could have said anything easily. There was a scream sitting in his throat and all his words had to bypass it before they could come out.

Even walking through the entrance hall for half a minute put him on edge, but if it meant it would lead to a hiding spot, he would do it. The weight of eyes, real or imagined, made his spine stiffen, made Ciel want to fold up and disappear. Threading his feet around the last of the Bitter Rabbit dolls on the steps, relief finally touched him at the landing. He opened the door to the guest room and walked into it so unthinkingly, it was as if it were his own home.

Immediately upon entering, the ache bloomed throughout his chest. This room… It was so calm and clean and untouched. Ciel wished he could apply any of those adjectives to his own sense of self right now. His eyes were already prickling. Stop! He balled up his fists. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Why couldn’t he ever just stop thinking about it? Couldn’t Sebastian make him stop? Because he really didn’t want to talk about any of it; he wanted to forget Lord Filbert, forget his feelings, rid his life of them just like all of the old familiar clothing his growing shape could no longer fit inside—

“Tell me what happened, young master,” Sebastian was offering to him now in that heirloom voice.

So Ciel began to speak.

Chapter Text

Visiting the servants’ quarters of the manor was an experience that always proved to be slightly unnerving. It wasn’t a place Ciel had to venture often, and so in a strange way he associated it more with his childhood than any other section of the house. He had used to race down all the stairs to get here, or at least went as fast as a boy who was often sick could manage, looking to see if Tanaka was available to play chess or share some of the Japanese tea that came in the most interesting shade of green. But children never realized that what was normal to them was strange to the rest of the world. The eight-year-old Ciel had not yet understood that seeing the house steward as a playmate and grandfather would shock other nobles — or that the simple green tea Tanaka drank from his cylindrical ceramic cups was rumored to cause hysteria.

A ridiculous notion. Who in the world was less hysterical than Tanaka?

Ciel felt a curling reluctance to knock upon that door, but did so anyway, three serious taps of his knuckles. He felt apprehensive for the conversation ahead. He did not apologize very often, even though there was a lot he knew he should apologize for. Would this lighten him even a bit?

“Please, come in.”

Ciel did, and immediately furrowed his brow. Situated on the bed in the corner of the private room, Tanaka was nearly fully dressed for work, only having removed his jacket. “You’re meant to be resting, aren’t you?” Ciel said, closing the door behind him as Tanaka finished sitting up. “How are you supposed to rest in those clothes? They don’t look very comfortable.”

Tanaka smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He made to stand up, but Ciel promptly admonished him, so Tanaka offered from the edge of the mattress, “Welcome home, sir, and beg your pardon. It was important to me that I looked presentable in case you came by.”

Ciel lowered his chin. “If you aren’t well, I expect you to take care of yourself properly. You ought to prioritize your own health instead of worrying about something as unhelpful as decorum,” he scolded, folding his arms.

Tanaka dipped his head. “Of course, sir. My apologies.”

Ciel’s body tightened. That’s what I’m meant to be saying! He sighed. “No… I came here to apologize to you. I spoke wrongly the night before Sebastian and I left for London. I shouldn’t have acted like that when you’ve been nothing but loyal and dedicated to your position. You are more than just a servant to the Phantomhive family. You always have been. You certainly don’t deserve to be treated the way I treated you. I know all you meant to do was show that you… you care about me, and all that.”

Ciel had been unable to meet Tanaka’s eyes through most of the apology, which he knew was shameful. The seconds of silence after he stopped talking only made him feel worse. But Tanaka broke it fast. “Young master… Your words mean a great deal,” he began, and only then did Ciel glance away from the wall to see Tanaka smiling kindly, a wistful look in his old eyes. “If you have the time, would you be willing to sit at the desk chair and speak more on this?”

Feeling nauseated but maybe the tiniest bit curious, Ciel paced awkwardly over to the chair and sat near the front of it. He didn’t know what else to say yet and looked at Tanaka hesitantly.

“I appreciate and am grateful for your apology, sir,” Tanaka began, “and I’d like to make it clear that the conversation we had a few weeks ago was not shocking to me. I used to have ones just like it with your father when he was only a bit older than yourself.”

“You did?” Ciel felt a mix of things stirring inside him: intrigue, shyness, a strong desire to leave, a slight desire to stay.

Tanaka nodded. “Your grandmother died when he was only fifteen, as you know,” he said, “and there was a lot of responsibility your father had to take on quite suddenly. At first, he didn’t want any of it. He grew upset when I tried to teach him about his new role. He did not mind some of the social aspects of being an earl, the parties and the mingling, but he rejected the paperwork that came alongside it. He wanted very much to stay a boy.”

“... Really?” Ciel didn’t know how else to respond. He could scarcely imagine his father being rude to Tanaka. He could scarcely imagine him ever being a child.

“Yes,” said Tanaka. “And,” here his smile grew, “it was only natural that he would behave that way towards me. He was grieving and frightened and young. But I understood that being angry with somebody was a thing that he needed. Children need to be angry at people who won’t turn them away for it.”

Ciel felt a twinge inside his heart. Tanaka is calling me a child again. He ignored it; he didn’t want to say anything that might require another future apology.

“But you are not your father,” Tanaka said next, “and I should respect the distances you want to maintain. You are right. It isn’t your responsibility to be open with me about how you feel. And all the same, I would like you to know that your anger has not turned me away.”

“It was meant to turn you away, though,” Ciel said, and then hated himself for the admission. “I mean… I don’t… Ugh.” Ciel winced in irritation. “Listen,” he said, straightening his back as he returned his gaze to the man across, “I have my reasons for keeping things to myself, and none of those reasons are your fault. But the fewer questions you ask of me, the better. It’s for your own sake.”

Unfortunately, that only made Tanaka look worried. “I don’t need you to protect me from your emotions, young master,” he said, “nor do I want you to. That doesn’t do either of us any good.”

Damn… I should have known that being honest would backfire. “Then just trust me on this,” Ciel huffed. “It’s better this way, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, young master…” Tanaka leaned towards him, reassuring, and Ciel instinctively leaned away. Message received, Tanaka folded his hands in his lap and returned to a professional air, which only made Ciel feel awful that he’d been so quick with his rejection. “May I ask you a final question, sir? Without any expectations of your answer, of course.”

“... All right,” Ciel said stiffly.

“Do you trust Mr. Sebastian?”

Ciel had expected the question to continue past Sebastian’s name. He didn’t like that it stopped there. “Do I trust him with what?”

“With whatever the two of you decide to speak on each night.”

Ciel cringed. He’d forgotten Tanaka knew about the nightly meetings. I’m going to get angry again if he doesn’t stop being so perceptive… “I trust Sebastian as much as he deserves to be trusted,” Ciel said carefully. He couldn’t bring himself to lie; lies were things that grew heavier with time, he’d learned, and he tried to be selective about when he told them.

Tanaka’s response to that answer betrayed as little as the answer itself. He gave a single nod, as if he had expected Ciel to say that. “Thank you for entertaining my query, sir. I will not trouble you with any more requests. And I will be sure to rest properly, so that I can return to work as soon as possible. As long as it is understood that my door is always open to you for any reason, then I will not trouble you further with any ideas I have about how you care for yourself. It is not my place.”

Ciel felt strangely uneasy. “I don’t want you to feel like there are things you can’t communicate to me just because I’m an earl and you’re a steward,” he said. He squeezed at the insides of his elbows with each opposite hand. “I just… felt… caught off-guard by that conversation. So I said whatever I needed to in order to end it, even though I don’t see you as less than me. Do you understand?”

Tanaka bowed his head. “Yes, sir, completely.”

“Good. It’s important to me that you know that.” Ciel stood to his feet, eager, reluctant, a terrifying mix of both. “I should leave you to it, then; you’ve spent enough time in uniform. You ought to rest properly.”

“Thank you, sir. I will do just that.”

“Good.” Ciel hesitated for a moment. Why was he hesitating? He walked over to the door. “I’ll have Sebastian fix tea and dinner for you later.” He smirked. “Something other than burnt pancakes.”

Tanaka’s smile took on some humor. “I will appreciate that very much. In actuality, I did not end up eating any pancakes, as at my age my body is unable to tolerate eating burnt food. Fortunately, I was able to prepare something to eat separately from the rest.”

Ciel blinked. “You know how to cook?”

“Only a little,” Tanaka explained. “I believe it is an important skill to be able to feed oneself, and so I have made sure that I know a few recipes in case I ever have need of them.”

Ciel considered this line of thinking. He did not know anything about how to prepare food. An English noble was not supposed to, so he’d never bothered to learn. Was there any merit to it? “All this time, I assumed the only food you knew how to prepare was tea.”

“I have lived a long time now,” Tanaka said. “There are many things about me that may yet surprise you, young master.”

Ciel felt his stomach sinking. “Er, I’m sure that’s true… Well, I’ll leave you alone, then. I order you to do whatever it is you need to do until you’ve recovered.” He reached for the doorknob and began into the hall.

Tanaka chuckled at the wording. “Thank you for your patience, sir. Do have a pleasant rest of your day.”

The servant’s quarters were lonely and empty at this hour. They would never be the same as they were back when his parents were alive, a bustle of activity that halted in surprise whenever the young lord of the manor came sweeping through. His father had had to sit Ciel down and explain that this was the servant’s one area in the manor they could relax, away from duty and expectation, and it wasn’t fair for Ciel to enter it whenever he pleased. Ciel had taken the advice to heart. Even coming here now felt like a place that wasn’t his to invade.

And yet… he caught himself looking back at Tanaka’s door amidst so many identical doors. There was a tiny part of him that wanted to dart back into the bedroom, to admit every wrong thing that he’d done and that had been done to him, to see what would happen if he finally laid out all the horrid truths he’d began clutching protectively in his fists starting on the day of his tenth birthday. He wanted to, and yet he knew it was a selfish desire. He closed his eyes. He did not need to make his burdens someone else’s. He knew the weight of them; he would not wish this weight on Tanaka. It wasn’t fair.

There are many things about me that may yet surprise you, young master.

The same could be said for himself, Ciel knew. There were many things that may yet surprise everyone who, for some reason, loved him.

All except Sebastian, that was.

Ciel jolted with the thought, sped quickly out of the hallway, suddenly fearing to be seen. No, no, he hadn’t meant to think that. Sebastian didn’t love him, and thank goodness he didn’t — Ciel was sick of people loving him when there was nothing about him worthy of love. He felt his eyes tighten in annoyance. There was truly nothing to love, so why did people act like there was? Even Ciel didn’t think he was likeable to anyone but himself. It was an entirely practical matter. I know I’m a terrible person, and I’m not going to act like it’s any different. That would be delusional.

Ciel finally arrived at his study and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. He scrubbed at his face, trying to get himself to think about all this properly. Guilt is stupid. It isn’t helpful. He felt angry at Tanaka all over again, and hated himself for it. This was too confusing. Why wouldn’t everyone just leave him alone? That was all he wanted… His mouth felt sour. He wanted to call for Sebastian. He wanted to be by himself. Ciel walked over to the desk, placed his arms on it, and nestled his chin into the pillow they made. He wanted to break something. He wanted to be held. He hated himself. He felt terribly small. Sebastian could help him. Sebastian was tricking him. Sebastian knew everything and didn’t hate him for it. Sebastian wanted to kill him. The latter two thoughts were as comforting as they were disturbing. Ciel wrapped his arms around his head and squeezed. Stop thinking! You used to be able to stop! You can do it again! Stop!

He couldn’t stop. He looked at the clock. It wasn’t dinnertime. Sebastian wasn’t going to come by soon to announce it. Ciel sighed, leaning back against his chair. He drummed his fingers on the armrests.

“I’m angry,” he said softly. “Everyone should hate me for who I am. I’m too much of a coward to let them hate me. But I’m also too proud to let them know why they should hate me. I’m a terrible person.”

The room was quiet.

“I’m a terrible person and everyone should hate me,” Ciel repeated.

Nothing happened.

What are you expecting? For Sebastian to overhear you with those keen demon ears and burst in and say it isn’t true and comfort you and tell you nice things?

Oh God, is that what he’d been expecting?

Ciel blushed self-consciously, feeling stupider than ever. What a strange and childish thing to do… He didn’t even want to think about what his intentions had been. It was absolutely mortifying. And what if Sebastian had overheard him just now? Was there a worse idea than that? Ciel pressed his hands over his face. What is wrong with me these days?! I don’t understand myself anymore! I don’t make any sense!

He couldn’t will himself to stop thinking, so he’d need to force it. Ciel grabbed a letter from his stack of Funtom work and began pouring over it. The sensibilities of business speak and requirements of his profession were slowly able to lull him back to calmness. There were more important matters than his personal life to attend to. Ciel made himself consider those matters instead, and ignored the way his eyes sometimes flicked to the clock, longing for something he refused to name.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut behind Sebastian’s back, and the fight drained out of Ciel at once, to be replaced by emotion with no chance of being tamed. It was an automatic response, to grab the favored pillow and clamp it to his face and scream. And how impressive it still was, that this humble object could take all the anger and sadness that roiled inside him and muffle it to almost nothing. He felt it shouldn’t be this easy. But then again, Ciel Phantomhive also knew plenty about how easy it was for a scream to be smothered.

There wasn’t much left in him that needed to be released, in truth. The scream ended after a few seconds, and he stayed standing with the pillow pressed over his face. It felt good to have it there. He didn’t want to leave it.

There were few objects remaining in his life that were older than the fire. This pillow was one of them. It was identical to another pillow he’d had as a boy. He’d had trouble sleeping without it as a child, this simple small white cushion best suited for a small head, so his parents had made certain there was an identical one at the Midfords’ residence for whenever they happened to spend the night. The original pillow had burned along with everything else, but then when Ciel visited his aunt and uncle after that horrible month, he asked them if he could take it with him.

Looking back, such a vulnerable request seemed impressive, in a strange way. Ciel would never bring himself to ask them about creature comforts now. The fact that he even felt soothed by this pillow as much as he did brought a sense of shame over him. But in moments like these, he couldn’t help turning to its familiar presence…

He laid in bed on his side, the pillow hugged against his chest and chin, and tried to keep a harness on his anger so that it wouldn’t turn into sadness. He clenched his eyelids; he really didn’t want to think about the scene at Sedgemore House right now. He wished he didn’t have to think about it ever again, but unfortunately it was all he could think about. During the entire carriage ride back home, the embarrassment had been so powerful that it made him want to lose control. Even considering it now made Ciel kick and tear wildly with his heels until both shoes were clawed off his feet, before he was back to lying prone, the rage sparking and fading like the swift life of a match head. He buried his face and groaned. Fairclough had been so understanding about it all, so measured, but that somehow made it worse… He didn’t want pity, benevolence, or even forgiveness. These were not things that became the Queen’s Watchdog.

Ciel cringed into the pillow, into his own body. After Sebastian had been dismissed from the library that afternoon, Fairclough had said, after a stretch of painful silence, “Lord Phantomhive… I beg your pardon, but… this wasn’t a sort of test, was it?”

That had been a question as embarrassing as it was relieving. It was embarrassing because of course it wasn’t a test, and it was terrible that Fairclough should have to witness Ciel in such a vulnerable position. But it was relieving because, even after tripping and falling right in front of him, it meant Fairclough didn’t immediately see Ciel as a child. He saw him as someone who commanded and challenged and controlled. The person that Ciel wanted to be seen as above all else.

Even after standing to his feet a while ago, Ciel’s palms still felt the burn of the rug, his knees the bruise of the floorboards beneath that rug. The shock of the whole scene threatened a show of emotion that would have worsened everything exponentially, which was really saying something. But Ciel took a deep breath and willed that as far away as he could.

“No, it… it wasn’t a test,” he said; it took every ounce of willpower he had to look Fairclough in the eyes. “I’m… as surprised as you are. I thought…” He cleared his throat. Steady your voice! You must keep composed now! “It was just as I said before: Sebastian was supposed to wait in the stables for our meeting to finish,” he continued. “I know he said he’s always on standby to protect me, but he had no instructions to eavesdrop on our conversation and behave like some hidden guard. This was all of his own accord.” Ciel put a hand to his heart and bowed forward at the waist. “I swear it, on my honor as the Earl of Phantomhive: Sebastian was not ordered to confront you.”

From the top of his vision, Ciel saw his host set his jaw and nod once. Fairclough knew when a man’s word had been given. There was no need to further question Ciel’s intentions. “I’m sorry that I had to ask, Lord Phantomhive,” he said, eyes full of regret. “You defended me from him, and I did not think it was an act on your part. I only needed to be certain that nothing had changed between us without my knowledge.”

“No… no, nothing has changed.” Ciel straightened, unable to meet Fairclough’s expression just then. He felt a sense of indebtedness; he was used to threatening people who deserved it and leaving the innocent out of such things. Sometimes he didn’t care when strangers became aware of his reputation unwittingly, but this particular situation had spun so wildly out of his control that it left him with nothing but shame. The tripping had been bad enough, but then Sebastian… he winced. “Acting without my orders like that is starting to become a habit with my butler, but never has he misbehaved so badly as this,” Ciel admitted. He closed his eyes. “You were right. His disrespect is a serious level of misconduct. He’s gone too far. He needs to be reminded of his place.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Fairclough ventured, “Lord Phantomhive… as someone that I hope you can consider a friend and confidante, I want to again offer my suggestion that Sebastian may be replaceable. You deserve the very best domestics, and that should include people that you can trust not to act without your say. I do believe Sebastian has breached your trust exponentially today. And I know you are well aware of that, but I’m only thinking of you. Certainly we haven’t known each other very long, but even I only have your best interests at heart. I’m not convinced that the same can be said of Sebastian.”

“... No, I’m not sure it can,” Ciel said thickly. If even Fairclough can pick up on this, then that proves it. “You’re right. Something is wrong with him these days. If I could remove him from my staff, I’d do it.” He clenched his fists. “What he did to you today was unspeakable. I’m sorry that all I have to offer you is an apology. Unfortunately, there are special circumstances that keep Sebastian in my employ. But I can promise you this much: he will never bother you again. The fact that he was able to do as much as he did today only shows I’ve been too lenient with him. He should know that if he doesn’t follow my rules exactly, he’ll lose that which is more important to him than anything else.”

My soul.

… That was still true, wasn’t it?

“Is there anything I should do, or prepare to do, for both our sake?” Fairclough asked. It was a sort of unexpected question; this kind of tactful consideration was not common from most normal people, who weren’t accustomed to having their lives threatened. No wonder Fairclough and I get along. He thinks logically, not from his fear. “Perhaps I should keep my distance for some while? Avoid contacting you or sending letters until I have your say that the coast is clear?”

“... Just give it a few days,” Ciel decided after a brief moment. He didn’t want to be the one to instigate contact again; as understanding as Fairclough was, today had been so embarrassing that Ciel was privately hoping to never hear from him again. “I’ll have dealt with this matter the minute we return home. I’m so livid with that idiot that he’d have to be without eyes and ears not to know it.” Ciel could actually feel himself starting to shake, the initial shock of the moment wearing off and the deeper emotions settling in like a fever. He blinked hard, begging the storm inside him to wait but, much like Sebastian, storms were not known for their ability to listen.

Fairclough frowned, remorseful. “What a painful turn this afternoon has taken… It saddens me that you feel it cannot be saved. Are you certain you would not like to stay?”

Those words temporarily shocked the storm back. Ciel couldn’t help but grant Fairclough a wide-eyed look. “You would have me stay after that? ” he half-choked.

“It seems clear that what unfolded was not your fault,” Fairclough offered. He took a step towards his guest. “Perhaps others would see what happened as a reason to enforce your departure, but my colleagues know me as a forgiving person — and what is there to forgive? On your part, it was only an accident that I should perhaps take responsibility for. Gewurztraminer is not a beginner’s wine… I should have known better.”

Ciel felt himself flushing again. “It wasn’t the wine,” he managed with difficulty. Was it? The skin on his back started to crawl from all the pity and attention on a moment that he wanted very badly to dash away from. “I said that I’m prone to tripping lately, and it’s because I’m growing taller,” Ciel finally told the floor, rushed. “Sometimes it… it causes me to lose my footing.” He swallowed. He’d hated to admit it, but it was better than letting Fairclough think he was consistently uncoordinated — or that the wine was affecting him after all. “Hopefully it won’t be an issue for much longer.” He cleared his throat, glancing to the door automatically. Surely the carriage is ready at this point…

Fairclough frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “Oh, I see… Yes, I understand now. Of course you are still growing. You would not stay as you are forever, not at your age. Of course most anyone can see that. I suppose it is unusual that I could be blind to such a thing, but sometimes it is easy to forget, when you speak with such maturity and understanding, more so than any other boy your age that I’ve met. It is easy for me to forget that even drinking wine is a new experience for you, because you are a person who knows a great deal about the world.”

Ciel thought he should be pleased about Fairclough’s faith in him, but the words “anyone can see that” only widened the wound. He hadn’t needed Fairclough’s view of him shaken too. Yet another crime where Sebastian was to blame… him and his ideas of what made a child. Ciel felt his fists tighten. “Please, don’t let this moment cloud your judgment of me,” he wanted to say, but that was when Janvier burst into the room.

“Mr. Fairclough?” the servant called out from the bottom floor, and strode over to the end of the stairwell quickly. He glanced up at Ciel and bowed his apology. “Lord Phantomhive, I beg your pardon… Is everything well, Mr. Fairclough? I was just told that Perrin saw the Phantomhive butler leaving, and she did not understand why he had come from the library…”

“Everything is all right now, Janvier,” Fairclough called down to him. “There was a misunderstanding on his part.”

“I’m sorry,” Ciel found himself saying without meaning to. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He couldn’t. Another minute and he would lose control of his breathing and his blinking, and he didn’t want anyone to see him like that. He turned toward the stairwell. “And I really can’t stay, it wouldn’t be safe for you. Sebastian needs immediate instruction or else it may result in more trouble for us both.” It was a lie, but a necessary one. The shame of it all was too great. “I need to make sure that this never happens again.”

Ciel deliberately ignored Sebastian’s expression when he at last marched past down the front steps, barely able to command, “Home!” without it coming out a bleat. The closing of the carriage door was music to his ears. But while the sanctuary of the cab was a relief from probing eyes, it couldn’t offer him everything he needed. Sebastian would still hear if his sadness spilled out. It won’t. I won’t give him that victory, dammit.

It was awful, that ride to the manor. Ciel’s feelings were a knot that couldn’t untangle — not without that one action he had been unable to suppress at the Funtom Convention but promised he wouldn’t exhibit today. Not when he needed to prove to Sebastian that he was an adult once and for all. But he was so, so tired of his heart aching in his chest and the confusion aching in his head every time Sebastian tried to make him out to be a child. It wasn’t fair. It was disgusting. It was all wrong! It wasn’t possible for him to be a child anymore! And if anyone should know it, it should be Sebastian! So for what reason did he insist on coddling him?

And why can’t he just tell me so I can stop agonizing about this all the bloody time?!

The rest of the way home, Ciel pressed his palms into his eyes in order to keep their feeble dams from bursting.

In the dream, he was back on the second floor balcony of the library in Sedgemore House, looking down. Fairclough was on the first floor, and he wasn’t alone. Bard, Finny, Mey-Rin, Tanaka, Aunt Francis, Uncle Alexis, and even Diedrich were standing there too. To his right, Sebastian was cradling the special pillow in his arms and announcing to the room, “Somebody needs to hold this for the young master while I’m away. Will anyone step forward?”

Ciel felt all eyes in the room staring at him and knew he was bright with embarrassment. “Hey! What are you telling them about my pillow for?” he hissed at Sebastian, who only glanced down at him blankly. “That’s mine! I didn’t say you could go and share it with the whole world!”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “But everybody already knows about it,” he said calmly. “You requested that I carry it everywhere for you. They’ve seen it before.”

Ciel flinched. “I didn’t ask you to do that!” he cried. He held out his hands. “I’m the one who carries it, not you! And I hide it in my coat so that nobody can see it!”

“Everyone,” said Sebastian, “can see it.”

Ciel felt so chilled by the inflection of those words that he was unable to respond right away.

Sebastian turned back to the room and said again, “Somebody needs to hold this pillow for the young master.”

“We can hold it,” said Finny, waving alongside Mey-Rin and Bard and Tanaka. “We’ll take turns.”

“I just said that I can hold it,” Ciel repeated, but Sebastian ignored him.

“We can’t hold it all the time,” said Francis, with Alexis and Diedrich nodding next to her. “We live too far away. We’ll have to visit in order to take our turn.”

Ciel grabbed Sebastian’s arm. “I don’t want them to hold it! Give it to me! I don’t want anyone else seeing it, all right? It’s mine!”

And then suddenly Arthur Doyle was there. “I can hold it,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I barely even know him!” Ciel shoved Sebastian, but Sebastian didn’t budge. “Why did you invite these people here?! I didn’t want any of them to know about the pillow! It’s mine! I don’t want them to touch it!”

“Listen to him. He says he wants to hold it himself.”

Ciel turned around. Fairclough had just climbed up the stairwell. He was looking straight at Sebastian with determination in his eyes.

Sebastian stared coolly and then abruptly bared his teeth. “You aren’t allowed to hold it. You aren’t allowed near it. Go away.”

“I don’t want to hold it,” Fairclough said. “Lord Phantomhive wants to. Why won’t you listen to him? He doesn’t need any help.”

Ciel felt relief that someone was finally hearing him. But Sebastian still wouldn’t hand over the pillow. “He can’t hold it,” Sebastian said. “It’s too heavy for him.”

“No it isn’t!” Ciel cried. “I held it even when I was ten years old! I can do it again. Just give it to me.”

“It’s too heavy for him,” Sebastian repeated.

Then Fairclough wrenched the pillow from Sebastian’s arms as easily as he would take a toy from a child. He immediately handed it back to Ciel. “There you are. This belongs to you.”

“Thank you,” said Ciel, and the pillow in his arms was suddenly much heavier than he remembered. He began to buckle under its weight. How was this possible? He used to be able to hold it like it was nothing. Why was it so heavy? Did Sebastian do something to it?

He looked at Sebastian then, whose eyes were suddenly full of worry. “Let me help you,” he said, reaching out. “If no one else can hold it, then I won’t leave after all. Allow me to carry it instead.”

“I don’t… want you to…” Ciel struggled to speak. The pillow just kept getting heavier; what was wrong with it? “Wh-What did you do? It weighs so much…”

“You aren’t used to it since I started holding it for you,” Sebastian said. “I can carry it. Allow me.”

“I don’t want you to…” Ciel was bent all the way over, the hems of his sleeves brushing the very carpet where he’d tripped and fallen that afternoon.

“Let him carry it himself,” said Fairclough, and at those words the pillow lightened a bit. “It’s his. It doesn’t belong to you.”

“It’s mine,” Ciel said, straightening up to give Sebastian a scathing look. “It doesn’t belong to you. Why do you want it anyway?”

Sebastian smiled sadly. “Because I’m acting like a parent.”

“Well I never asked you to!” Ciel cried, feeling the pillow starting to grow heavy again. “If it weren’t for you, I would still be able to hold my pillow! I wouldn’t need you to carry it at all! I would have been strong enough not to feel how heavy it is! But you made me weak! You did this! This is all your fault!”

“I know,” said Sebastian. “That’s why you’re sending me away, remember?”

Ciel had not meant to fall asleep, and yet the room was dark when he fluttered his eyes back to wakefulness.

He sat up fast, blinking himself awake. What time was it?! His head whipped in the direction of the mantle, but he couldn’t read the clock face from the bed without the lamps lit. He winced, his head heavy, and his stomach… It was like lead. He wrapped his arms around himself. Ugh, all that heavy food Fairclough had served him… it had tasted fine when he was eating it, but he should have known it wouldn’t sit well.

After a groggy moment to collect himself, Ciel finally stood to check the time. Almost seven o’clock. He’d actually managed to sleep for nearly four hours.

Ciel pushed up his eye patch and rubbed all over his face. He hadn’t thought he was very tired before drifting off, but now it felt like all he wanted to do was sleep… I’ve done enough of that. He’d wake up at some arbitrary hour of the morning if he went to bed now, with no one around to talk to but the individual he should have wanted to see the least.

That was the worst of it. Ever since he’d dismissed Sebastian from the bedroom, before he’d fallen asleep and after he woke just now, Ciel had felt a frantic little buzzing need in the back of his head to tell Sebastian about this afternoon, and he kept having to remind that frantic, buzzing need that Sebastian was the problem in the first place! It was terrifying how insistent the need was, how he kept feeling an “I need to tell Sebastian” feeling without really thinking it. Ciel couldn’t help but wonder if this had been Sebastian’s plan all along: to make Ciel feel helpless to rely on him for not just food and shelter but his emotions too. To make him truly at the demon’s mercy in every conceivable way.

So then why start all this coddling now and not back when I was too young to see it for a trap? And why look so injured and worried when I yell at him? And why fret over me so much and ask me about my feelings and talk to me like he cares? Is it so I’ll feel the confusion that I’m feeling now? Or is it because he’s confused too?

Is he acting like a demon or like a parent? Which is it?!

… And which one would I want it to be?

That was the question that Ciel had been forcing himself not to consider for months. He wasn’t going to consider it now either; he was just going to let it alone. Staring down the gullet of this unanswered question was daunting, but it had to be preferable than falling deep into its belly. His dreams exemplified that well enough.

Enough lollygagging. He forced himself to pull the cord for the servant’s bell, curious what would happen when he did. Tanaka showed up a few minutes later. So he knows. But of course he would know; someone had to come to the master of the manor when called, and Sebastian had been banned from it for the rest of the day.

“Good evening, sir.” Tanaka gave a slight bow several feet from the bed. “Do allow me to light the lamps for you.”

He started with the oil lamp by the bedside before moving to the sconces, adjusting their controls for the gas supply and lighting the currents with a match before bolstering each flame to a comforting glow. Four times this was done before Tanaka came back around to stand before his master, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed with his clothes and hair rumpled. In contrast, Tanaka had an expectant and poised look about him, as if there were nothing wrong at all.

Ciel still explained what must be rather obvious: “I fell asleep.”

Tanaka smiled, less like a steward and more like the grandfather Ciel had known him as growing up, now. “You must have needed it.”

“I guess…” Ciel smoothed at his hair, suddenly wishing he looked more kempt for this conversation. Of course Sebastian managed his appearance too. Thinking of this made anger and fear flicker in his chest again. “Tell me, Tanaka: what did Sebastian say to you about what happened this afternoon?” Ciel decided to ask outright.

Tanaka didn’t lose his smile. “I believe his opening words were that he had made ‘a terrible mistake,’” he said, and Ciel furrowed his brow. Sebastian sees it that way? He isn’t proud of himself for ‘defending me’? “He said that he confronted the gentleman you were meeting with this afternoon, as he suspected you were in danger. He clarified that his assessment of the situation was wrong and that his worry got the better of him.”

Ciel frowned. “That’s all? He didn’t… he didn’t say why he thought Fairclough was going to attack me, did he?”

Tanaka shook his head.

“... I see.” Ciel glanced to the side. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. He only knew he didn’t want to be the one to explain. Ciel hardened his gaze and looked Tanaka in the eye. “Sebastian acted horrendously today,” he said. “If he were anyone else, I would be seriously considering letting him go. Accusing Fairclough is only the half of it. He also insinuated that I was drunk, and after we came home, he interrupted me while I was speaking, to demand that I never see Fairclough again. His behavior is just deplorable! And I have no idea where it’s coming from!”

Tanaka’s expression wasn’t what Ciel expected, nor what he wanted to see. Instead of appearing shocked at this information, Tanaka looked pensive. “That is a very inappropriate way for a butler to act,” he said at last, slowly.

“Obviously it is!” Ciel swung his foot in the air and folded his arms and chewed his lip. “I didn’t expect this level of disrespect from him,” he mumbled. “Lately, he’s been… strange. And a little overbearing, too. But he’s never gone so far as to embarrass me in front of an acquaintance.” He swung his leg faster and forced himself to sound off-handed. “I have no idea what to make of him. Do you have any idea why he might behave like this?”

“I do have an opinion, but…” Tanaka bowed his head. “The young master may not be very pleased to hear it.”

Ciel’s hands tightened on his arms. “It’s fine. Say it anyway.”

“If I’m being honest, sir, I think that Sebastian cares about you very much and is simply unskillful at expressing it.”

Ciel felt his insides curdle with disappointment. “He doesn’t care about me at all!” he shouted. “If it appears that way on the surface, it’s all part of his plan. He may be attentive of me, but it’s only because it’s his job to be. So when he does things like that, it doesn’t mean he cares! It means something else!”

Even as Ciel said it, there was a little part of him that hoped it wasn’t true. He wished he could crush that little part of him under his heel and kick it away.

“Your anger is understandable,” Tanaka said, in a measured voice that made Ciel wonder if it had ever been used on his father when Vincent was fifteen and grieving and trying to make sense of his new life as the head of the family. “I do agree that Sebastian has stepped out of line today, and he has much to atone for. All the same, he wants to atone, badly. He is very concerned about you.”

“Oh, is he ‘concerned’ about me?” Ciel felt a bitter smile splitting his face. “As if his ‘concern’ isn’t the very cause of all this! Honestly, what right does he have to be concerned ? I haven’t felt this humiliated since that day and it’s all because of his damn concern! So what should I care that he’s concerned about me? He should be concerned for himself, because I’m not going to forgive him so easily!”

Tanaka inclined his head. “Since ‘that day’, young master?”

Ciel ignored him. “What Sebastian did was inexcusable,” he huffed. “Don’t try to convince me that he cares. Trust me on this. You don’t know the reality of who Sebastian is. Nobody knows him except for me. This is just another one of his tricks. If you feel sorry for him, it means that it’s working. But see, this is how trusting him paid off today. I won’t be foolish enough to lower my guard around him ever again.”

When Tanaka didn’t speak, Ciel stole a glance at him and balked. He looked like he was trying not to smile! “What in the world is so funny?!”

Tanaka put a curled knuckle to his mouth. “Ah, forgive me… Nothing is exactly funny. I was just thinking that perhaps Sebastian is the only one who knows the reality of who you are too.” At this, Ciel blanched. Tanaka’s smile only held. “You have told me before that you do not trust Sebastian, and yet I understand that you speak with him more openly than you do with anyone else. I cannot help but wonder, sir, if there is some value to you in considering him untrustworthy.”

Ciel hunched his body. “I just told you, I’m the only one who knows the real him. I know why he’s not trustworthy. Just believe me when I say it’s true.”

“I believe you. But I also wonder if you are calling Sebastian untrustworthy not necessarily because he is, but because you wish he was.”

“Why would I wish that?! ”

“Perhaps you can tell me, sir.”

Ciel’s entire body felt like a clenched fist. “What’s there to tell? What’s the use in entertaining a world in which Sebastian genuinely cares about me?”

Tanaka was as patient as ever. “What is the harm?”

“Because I don’t know what that would mean from him!” Ciel burst. He felt his breaths wanting to stick in his chest and his eyes prickling with needles. He swallowed and tightened his throat. “He’s not the same as he used to be, and I don’t know what it means,” he said, in a small voice that sounded too much like whining to his own ears.

Tanaka’s gaze and smile creased with the gentlest lines. “Then why don’t you ask him?”

Because a demon who wants my soul makes more sense than a demon who doesn’t. Because a demon who wants to be a servant is more manageable than a demon who wants to be my keeper.

Ciel caught himself staring too far down the gullet of that unanswered question and snapped himself back to reality with a shake of his head.

“I won’t ask,” he said. “No good can come of it.”

“I would be happy to help you talk to him.” Tanaka’s voice was like a hand extended in friendship.

Ciel shook his head again, this time more deliberately. “Don’t.”

And so Tanaka understood that the time had come to play steward again. He made himself neat and professional before Ciel’s very eyes, his mannerisms clipped and perfect as he said with a measured nod, “Very well, sir. In that case, how would you like me to proceed with dinner? Sebastian has prepared you a tapioca soup; will that be to your liking?”

Ciel felt his stomach rumble at the words ‘tapioca soup.’ He wanted to eat, but not something that would require efforts to digest, and of course Sebastian had known… of course he had. And thus Ciel had to reject it. This afternoon can never happen again. Sebastian needs to remember that the last thing I am is a child and the last thing I need is a parent.

And I need to remember it too.

Ciel stood to his feet, adjusting his clothes and patting down his hair. If Tanaka could be a steward, he could be an earl. “Tell the chef,” he barked, “I mean the actual chef, that for dinner I want him to serve me American pancakes with maple syrup, even if they’re completely burnt.”