Chapter Text
The hands of the Big Ben struck midnight, as twelve consecutive loud bangs rang out through London, hanging almost heavy in the air. The city seemed to have gone still, the last of candles blown out, leaving the homes dark.
The snow fell peacefully from the grey clouds above, covering the ground in a cold, thick blanket that would prove troublesome to any coachman once morning arrived.
It was near Christmas, the shops and buildings decorated in white, green and red decorations and candles, as if competing with each other to ensure each home looked more stunning than the one before it. Only a few weeks were left until the holiday, after all, and the cheerful spirit was present through the chilly weather and inconveniences the snow created.
The perfect blanket of thin ice was disturbed by the footsteps of two men, walking down a smaller, less frequented alley behind a few bakeries, just near the port.
The street lamps cast a brief light over their faces, before the shadows enveloped them once again. In the warm light, a pair of sharp blue eyes were revealed fixed straight ahead, while behind him followed a man who was unmistakably a butler by his attire.
Earl Ciel Phantomhive, the Head of the Phantomhive family and now 24 years old, was mostly silent the entire walk. Although his legs weren't caring him particularly fast ahead, he appeared to be in a hurry, pulling his coat a bit tighter around his body due to the cold breeze that threatened him.
Sebastian lurked behind him, his footsteps unnaturally silent against the ground and movements too fluid.
"It's quite a beautiful night, no, My Lord?" The butler asked with a cold but soothing voice. He didn't receive an answer from his Young Master, who appeared fixated on the the ground, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.
They walked like that in silence for a few seconds, until Ciel abruptly stopped in his track, his gloved hand placed on the wall of the building next to him as if for support.
"My Lord?" Sebastian took a few steps forward, standing a bit closer to the Earl, his eyes narrowing.
Ciel's gaze was still fixed on the ground, but his breathing suddenly became sharper. Drier. The free hand previously used to hold his coat tighter around himself now clutched his chest. He felt like his skin was wrapping tighter around his rib cage, his flesh almost as if non-existent, suffocating him.
He opened his mouth to try and speak, but only a few dry coughs came out, those too strangled.
Sebastian didn't have enough time to speak again as Ciel fell to the ground, knelt down on one knee, the hand on the wall almost as if trying to clutch the bricks, digging into them.
Ciel felt his mind go blank for a few seconds, desperation and panic taking over as he felt Sebastian's hands grab him to keep him from falling over completely. His vision began to blur, and he felt something fall from his mouth. He couldn't tell if it was foam or saliva.
He could've sworn he heard Sebastian say— or perhaps shout— something and another person rushing over. His head felt light, beginning to loll, his lungs almost as if filling with a void he desperately wanted to rid of— but he couldn't. Only as much he could remember. From then, everything went black