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Albert planned every second carefully.
Everything that could be accounted for was charted on a schedule maintained meticulously for housing staff and himself alike. Breakfast was at seven in the morning, getting Sakuya ready for school was at seven thirty, having him out the door by eight sharp was a given with how long their curated song and dance of time had been going on for.
With how long things have remained on schedule, Albert doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when faced with an abrupt derailing of schedule.
14:00. When Sakuya would enter the last class of the day. As Albert’s eyes glossed over the clock neatly hung on the wall, he nodded to himself. Stepping through the halls, he does a quick inspection to ensure order has been maintained throughout the afternoon. Only the best for his young master. As always, he’d prepare to greet the boy with his usual deadpan demeanor and meticulous work towards the affairs of the manor. He’s nothing if not dedicated, after all.
16:00. Slightly later than usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not only did classes within St Pigeonations end at 3PM sharp, but Sakuya was the Student Council President, a prestigious position apparently taking much of his precious time from what Albert was forced to witness when called into the institution. Not to mention his new friends. That Tosaka girl had been forcing him into more impromptu hang-outs alongside that rock dove. It was nice knowing Sakuya had finally made friends, even if they seemed to get on his nerves to no end. Albert just wished the boy would remember to call. It was his duty to protect him, after all. A bit impossible to gauge his safety and well-being without notice.
18:00. Worrisome. No notice from his young master, no complaint about the loud and boisterous nature of his friends, no text message proclaiming some newfound commoner quirk, nothing. Mere silence awaited Albert as he peered at his messages with a furrowed brow.
“Master Sakuya, this is unlike you. Usually, I get occasional updates about your annoyances. Is something wrong?” Unseen.
“Master Sakuya, I implore you to consider acknowledging my messages. I understand your group takes most of your attention with their antics, but we have been over this. I cannot guarantee your safety when you go radio silent.” Unseen
18:30. Something had to be wrong.
“Master Sakuya, please.” Unseen.
“Sakuya. Call me back.” Another unseen message… an unfamiliar pit made itself known in his chest as he paced the manor floors. The one day he was ordered to remain at his post, the one day he was ordered to maintain the manor away from Sakuya’s side, the one day he chose against looming in the shadows. He couldn’t help but worry. What if he failed? What if Master Sakuya turned up dead due to his negligence? That nagging worry as he left today… why didn’t he listen to his instinct?
He felt ill, as if he’d collapse. He couldn’t put the feeling welling in his chest to words, but knew it made every second oh so much worse. A profoundly negative ache. Each tick of the clock in the foyer made his stomach churn, made bile sear the back of his throat as each possibility assaulted his psyche.
By 22:00 Albert had already sent a mixture of manor staff and law enforcement to search for the young master, all without alerting his father of the situation. His nerves were fried as is without that failure of a man breathing down his neck. He’d do nothing to help the situation. If Monsieur Le Bel caught wind that his precious heir was in danger, he would’ve taken it out on everyone. Besides, the only care he’d have is for the sake of prolonging his legacy, not Sakuya’s actual well-being.
Stepping outside, he allows the brisk autumn air to brush over his features. A distinctly crisp scent followed, one that typically calmed him on difficult evenings. Tonight, however, even as the wind caressed his features there was no calm. There was no unflappable assassin, butler, whatever position– there was Albert. Vulnerable, anxious Albert who cared more for Sakuya than he could ever grasp.
He didn’t know when he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, nor when he started the ignition, nor when he sped down the roads leading to St. Pigeonations.
Finally, there was a notification on his phone. Several dozen. Contact. Screeching to a halt, he pulled over, fumbling with his pockets before managing to pull his phone out. The drastic change of tone in each message implied Sakuya was out of service, then entered an area with service. That would be relieving if not for the possibility that he had been kidnapped, or assaulted, or–
Taking a deep breath, he read each message.
“Albert, there’s been a situation at the school. I’m fine. Tosaka is… well— she’s been murdered. Murdered and made a mockery of. Who stuffs a head into a print box? What is this, some cheesy detective series? Anyways– they ushered us to the gym. They spout lies about some natural disaster but you and I both know the skies and forecast were clear. This is all some charade by the commoners, for the commoners.”
“Albert, there’s a dome covering the school. A DOME! How sci-fi! You’d think I was on set for one of those cliche space movies. The brochure never included this detail. Again, I’ll be fine. A Le Bel does not show fear in the face of danger, they lead.”
“I’ll have to tell you when I’m finally home. The plot thickens and veers into more absurdity by the minute. Kawara keeps spouting off that he’s talking to some student that doesn’t exist, the blame for Tosaka’s murder falls on Yuuya and… the doctor, and I’m starting to lose track of everything. It’s all too much.”
“I’m scared. yuuya is. hes. Theres a lot i can’t tell you and a lot i dont understand but im scared. I don t wantt o die.”
His phone falls from his hand, the revving of an engine is the only thing silencing each thought in his mind. He doesn’t know how fast he’s going, he doesn’t even know if he’s moving. Somehow, he’s around a block from the school.
A mob of humans in the distance wielding weapons. He hasn’t a clue what’s going on but knows better than to approach. Slipping into the shadows, he obscures his presence through the foliage, taking measured steps.
A figure. Several.
Master Sakuya. He’s alive.
Instantly, relief washes over him. He’s finally able to take a breath without each being weighed down by dread and unknowing. Inching closer, closer, close enough to verify it isn’t an apparition caused by the dim-light. By the time he’s able to make out the boy’s features, he’s hit with the noticeable weariness in his eyes, the exhausted slump of his shoulders, the redness of his tear-stained cheeks.
“A-albert?!” A hoarse yell. He’s real. He’s alive. That tone of voice takes a much different inflection than what he’s used to, the phrasing not an order, but a plea. As if he’s pleading for the same thing, as if he’s grasping at straws for the man before him to be more than a hallucination caused by his now battered psyche.
The moon hid away, shrouded by countless clouds, darkness obscuring its comforting glow. There was no comfort on this night. Even the skies knew the tone today’s narrative had taken.
“Master Sakuya. Sakuya, you’re-” He’s cut off by the boy wrapping his arms around him and burying his head against his chest. Several visceral sobs follow. He’s never been good at processing emotions, nor helping with emotional affairs, but something compels him to try. Something, anything to bring him a semblance of comfort. Eventually, he settles on rubbing his hand over his back, feeling each wave of grief come out in violent shudders.
They stand there for a while, Albert being the only thing anchoring Sakuya, keeping him from toppling over. Eventually, he speaks.
“We need to go. It’ll be safer at the manor.”
“I agree.” His voice is soft, uncertain, a meekness uncharacteristic for the usually prideful noble. Albert doesn’t dare question him. Instead, he ushers him to the car with precision and care expected of him, buckling him in before taking his seat at the driver’s side.
Silence follows. Heavy, crushing silence that made each second feel all the more tense. Albert’s hands press against the leather of the steering wheel, his grip tightening marginally with each hic escaping Sakuya’s lips. It feels as if he’ll rip the leather at this rate.
Finally, he speaks. What escapes his mouth is hesitant, uncertain, a series of words he couldn’t imagine himself saying before. “I’m sorry.”
For a while, Sakuya can’t respond, choked sobs escaping his mouth and words being cut off by sharp breaths.
“Al- albert- you-”
“I was not there.”
“You didn’t-” Another soft sob as his thoughts overwhelm him.
“I had a feeling I should’ve followed you today. I was… worried. I failed you.” His words were as cold and methodical as ever, yet– looking at his eyes told a different story. He was conflicted, racked with guilt each time he looked over at the shuddering figure beside him.
Guilt. That was the all-encompassing emotion. This boy he had raised from a child now broken down to a terrified, shaking mess. A shell of his former self. He couldn’t protect him from whatever he had seen, he wasn’t able to be there to fulfil his contract, to take away the onslaught of horrors he had experienced.
Silence once again hung heavy between them, the rumbling of tires against the asphalt being the only comforting ambience to break through Albert’s wavering focus. His duty, mapped out on paper, was to ensure the heir of the Le Bel family remained protected, laying his life down as he saw fit. The only exception was when he gave the signal to end his life.
Albert did not know if he could carry out such an action. He didn’t even know if he could face the boy. A young soul already broken down by the path laid out by his father now left to the wolves and found only after having been attacked. Over and over again.
Eventually, through his quickening breath, Sakuya manages to force out a response, “I don’t care. I don’t care about any of that. I just–”
“Please just be there now. I don’t care- I- I need–. I need you now.”
The order surprises him. He expected to be reprimanded, for the boy to hold a semblance of resentment towards him for not being able to save him. Instead, his weak words cut worse than any sort of punishment could’ve. He had faced Sakuya’s emotions before, but now, they were different. Previously, they were breakdowns over what he considered menial, inconsequential, things most people wouldn’t throw a fit over. Now? Now he was faced with what he assumed to be the real Sakuya. That mask of nobility and bravado had crumbled.
Now? He was coming to him, the man who had nearly ended his life all those years prior for comfort. His words were desperate, oozing with such palpable sadness. Sakuya had never come undone quite like this. Albert wasn’t one for emotional situations, but he had raised this boy. As far as he was concerned, the line blurred between professional duty and simply viewing him as kin.
Reaching a hand out, he awkwardly rests it against his shoulder. “Of course, Master Sakuya. I will be there to the best of my ability.”
“Can– can you–” He sniffles, “can you run me a bath when we get back?”
“Of course, Master Sakuya. I can also order the chefs to make your favorite meal. It’s late, but you’ve missed dinner. I’m sure they’d be happy to given the fuss over your disappearance.”
For a moment, he perks up. It’s imperceptible, but it’s something, “You can?”
“Of course, anything for you. Who would I be if not resourceful?”
“Thank you Albert.”
What else seemed comforting? Right– appealing to the boy’s interests. That often comforted people. “Maybe later… once you’ve rested up you could play something for me? Now is a better time than ever.” It’s an attempt at comforting further than his abilities would allow him. An attempt that succeeds it seems.
“Play something? Like- on the piano?”
“Yes. You’ve always been a talented musician. Your friends liked to hear you play, didn’t they?”
His friends… Sakuya’s friends, Hiyoko and Ryouta. Both met with an undeserved fate. Hiyoko was dead, and Ryouta was currently cryogenically frozen until technology improves enough to be able to remove each trace of the Charon virus from his body. He’s alone in this world, in the vast darkness that resides where his pride once was. He’s nothing. He’s a commoner masquerading in the world of the wealthy, an imposter.
He could never tell Albert the full extent of what he had learned. While he wouldn’t leave him, he certainly didn’t trust his opinion to remain the same. What if he looked at him as a black sheep? What if he wished to accompany his older brother, to work alongside true nobility once he tells him? He’s alone in this world. Alone with only his servant as comfort. He can’t lose that.
For now though, he focuses on his suggestion. Playing a piece in their honor, living only by his own whims and desires, living for himself and being him. It’s the best he can do. He can only hope for their attendance once he works up the energy to play.
He was once terrified of ghosts, but the thought of Tosaka’s ghost lingering by as his fingers brush over ivory keys is enough to quell some of the gnawing anguish in his heart. The piece he plays for her can one day be played for Ryouta too.
And Yuuya. Especially for the brother he was never able to bond with. He liked listening to him play. He remembers snapping at him countless times as he appeared in the music halls, wanting desperately to stop himself, to allow himself to swallow his pride and bond with him. Now, he can only hope his spirit is in attendance in the same way Hiyoko’s might be. As childish as it is, he hopes to see him as he had Nageki, to talk with him, to tell him all he hadn’t been able to.
He hopes the metaphorical concert hall of his heart is able to house all of them, to honor them, to bring them remembrance through his music, through an interest that belonged to only the real him.
“I’d like that, yes.”