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Sebastian Michaelis had always been a paradox: everywhere, yet unreachable. His face haunted billboards and fashion campaigns from Tokyo to Milan. He was the man everyone recognized, but no one actually knew—perfect bone structure, devilish smirk, posture sharp enough to cut glass. In a world obsessed with sharing, Sebastian remained untouchable. He rarely gave interviews, avoided late-night talk shows, and posted on social media only when contractual obligations demanded it. The public knew two things: he was impossibly talented, inconveniently married, and that was it.
The husband's name, Ciel, barely existed outside whispers on the corners of the internet. Only rare, outdated, low-quality photos surfaced, no public appearances, not even a stray paparazzi shot. To most, Ciel Phantomhive was a myth. He lived on the fringes of fame, occasionally appearing at charity galas, rarely photographed, always poised yet indifferent to the chaos surrounding Sebastian's stardom. He had perfected the art of being invisible in plain sight. And Sebastian liked it that way.
Today, though, the façade would crack, just slightly.
He sat in the clean, minimalist WIRED studio, beneath the bright white glow of professional lighting. A large cardboard board leaned against the desk beside him, each question covered with a strip of white paper, the trademark of WIRED's "Autocomplete Interview" series.
He straightened his cuffs and smiled at the camera. Calm, professional, the one who made millions collectively forget how to breathe.
"Hello," he began, voice smooth as polished marble. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis, and today, I'll be answering the internet's most searched questions about me. Let's hope they're intelligent."
He peeled the first strip of paper away.
'How long has Sebastian Michaelis been married?'
Sebastian chuckled under his breath. "Straight to the point. I've been married for three years, but we've been together for eight."
Sebastian peeled off the next strip.
'Who is Sebastian Michaelis married to?'
He arched an eyebrow. "Ah. The question."
The corner of his mouth curved upward. "His name is Ciel. You won't find much about him, no matter how much you dig. He likes it that way. He's private."
He tilted his head as if considering something. "And before the rumors start, no, he's not my agent, not my manager, not some shadowy producer funding my career. He's his own person and terrifyingly good at whatever he chooses to do."
Sebastian smiled faintly. "He's also the only person I've ever met who can make me shut up. That alone is an achievement."
He peeled another strip.
'How did Sebastian Michaelis meet his husband?'
Sebastian laughed, low and dark. "We met in high school. He insulted my tie. I wish I were joking. I was wearing the school's regulation tie, and he told me it made me look like I was attending my own funeral."
He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head with mock exasperation. "I was seventeen. I thought I was untouchable. Then this pale, sharp-tongued sophomore looked at me like he was dissecting a bad painting. I should've been offended, but I was intrigued. He was the first person who wasn't impressed."
He sat back again, voice softening. "We argued for a month before he agreed to go out with me. It hasn't stopped since."
Another strip.
'Who proposed to whom?'
Sebastian's smirk returned, faintly devilish. "That would be me. I'm old-fashioned, apparently."
He tapped his ring with his thumb. "He pretended to be surprised. I found the receipt for the rings two weeks later. He'd already picked his out. I'm married to a manipulator."
A pause, his gaze flicking briefly toward the crew off-camera before he murmured, "Don't tell him I said that."
Another question was revealed.
'How big is Sebastian Michaelis's age gap with his husband?'
"Three years," he said smoothly. "Though he likes to pretend it's more, usually when he's losing an argument. He'll say something like, 'You're practically middle-aged,' as if twenty-nine qualifies for a retirement home."
He gave the camera a look that hovered between fondness and wicked amusement. "For the record, he's twenty-six. Old enough to know better, young enough to make trouble still."
He tore off the next strip.
'Who's the breadwinner in the Michaelis marriage?'
Sebastian laughed in an elegant, dark sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "People assume it's me because I'm the one plastered on billboards. But no, that would be him."
He rested his chin on his hand, smirking. "Ciel was born into old money—generational wealth, family titles, and property that probably predates electricity. Meanwhile, I came from a scholarship and the ability to look good in tailored clothing. So yes, technically, I'm the trophy husband."
Next strip.
'Why did Ciel take Sebastian's last name?'
Sebastian smiled, eyes glinting with a secret joke. "Because he enjoys defying expectations. Everyone assumed I'd be the one changing mine, which of course meant he had to do the opposite. He told me afterward it was a 'branding choice.'"
He gave a soft laugh. "He's the only person who can turn marriage paperwork into a power move."
He peeled the next strip more slowly, curiosity flickering in his gaze.
'Does Sebastian Michaelis have kids?'
The question earned an unfiltered bark of laughter. "Absolutely not. Can you imagine? Two of us raising another human being? The world barely survives when we're in the same room."
He tapped his temple thoughtfully. "We have a cat, though. Technically, my cat. They prefer me."
He shrugged with feigned innocence. "Animals can sense good energy."
Another strip.
'What's Sebastian Michaelis like off camera?'
His expression shifted, half amusement, half challenge. "That depends on who you ask. The publicist version of me is polite and mysterious. My husband would say I'm dramatic, obsessive, and occasionally tolerable. Personally, I think I'm delightful. You can pick your truth."
Next.
'Will Sebastian Michaelis ever post his husband online?'
He clicked his tongue. "You people really are nosy."
Then, with a slight grin, "Maybe. I've posted him once or twice. A hand here, a silhouette there. Occasionally, you hear his posh voice in the background in videos. He doesn't like attention, and I respect that. But now and then, he lets me get away with it."
Another strip came off.
'What's Sebastian Michaelis' type?'
He didn't even hesitate. "Sharp-minded with a sharper tongue. Someone who can look me in the eye and not flinch."
Then, more quietly: "Someone who laughs at my arrogance and doesn't apologize for their own."
A pause. "Basically, I married my equal and my punishment."
The next strip.
'What does Sebastian Michaelis do in his free time?'
"Sleep," he said immediately, then reconsidered. "Cook, read, annoy my husband. Sometimes simultaneously."
He smiled faintly, voice dropping to something silkier. "We have quiet evenings. He reads by the window; I ruin his concentration."
He sat back. "It's the highlight of my day."
He peeled off the last strip.
'Will we ever see more of Ciel Phantomhive?'
Sebastian looked at the question for a long moment, as if weighing his answer.
"Maybe," he said finally. "But only when he feels like it. He doesn't do things to please anyone. He's private, but not shy. He values what's his."
He smiled. A small, private thing that didn't quite reach performance level. "I find that admirable."
Then, as if remembering himself, he added, "Though I'm sure he'll critique how I answered these when I get home."
He placed the board aside. "And that concludes my suffering for today. I'm Sebastian Michaelis, and apparently, the internet's curiosity knows no bounds."
He gave the camera one last smirk, eyes glinting red under the studio lights. "You can stop searching now. You won't find anything more."
The camera cut.
When Sebastian got home, Ciel was waiting, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, the picture of unimpressed composure. The faintest smirk tugged at his mouth.
"You think you're clever."
"I am," Sebastian said smoothly, stepping inside.
"The video is out already. You told the entire world I was born into money."
"They already assumed it."
"You told them about my tie comment."
"They loved it."
"You also told them I'm your sugar baby."
Sebastian grinned, unrepentant. "No, I said I was your sugar baby despite the age difference."
Ciel stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "You're impossible."
"No, I'm not," Sebastian murmured, moving closer. His hand brushed lightly along Ciel's arm as he passed, lingering just slightly.
Ciel didn't move away. Instead, he let Sebastian wrap an arm around his shoulders. Sebastian pressed a soft kiss to Ciel's temple, then leaned in close enough that their noses almost touched.
"You're ridiculous," Ciel muttered, but warmth flickered under the words.
"And I worship you," Sebastian whispered, letting his fingers trace lightly along Ciel's back.
Ciel finally laughed, shaking his head. He pressed a brief hug against Sebastian's chest, just enough to let him feel it, and sneaked a peck to Sebastian's jaw as he pulled back.
Sebastian draped his arm around Ciel again, tugging him closer for a playful nuzzle. "Eight years," he murmured against the side of Ciel's face, "and you still try to keep me in line."
"I'm not trying," Ciel replied, pressing another quick kiss to Sebastian's temple. "You just make it impossible to be serious."
Sebastian grinned, catching Ciel's hand in his. "Then let's not be serious." He pulled Ciel gently toward the kitchen, resting a shoulder against his back. Fingers brushed, hips nudged lightly, small laughter spilling between them.
At the counter, Sebastian reached for a teacup, and Ciel brushed his shoulder in mock irritation. Sebastian leaned over to whisper a joke, and Ciel responded by running his fingers through Sebastian's hair and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
Sebastian smirked and leaned close enough to gently bump Ciel with his shoulder, stealing a peck on the tip of his nose. "You're too easy to tease," he murmured.
"Someone has to keep you humble," Ciel replied, tapping his chest playfully. Sebastian draped an arm around Ciel's waist, pulling him close, and they swayed slightly as they moved to set the table.
Sebastian reached for a plate, and Ciel nudged his hip, teasing, "Careful, sugar baby, you're going to break something."
Sebastian laughed, leaning over to brush a kiss against Ciel's jaw in retaliation. "All part of my charm," he whispered.
They moved through the apartment with ease. Ciel poured the tea while Sebastian leaned in to steal a sip, their fingers brushing as they reached for the same utensil. Soft kisses landed on cheeks and temples, followed by brief nuzzles and unhurried embraces. Outside, the city continued its restless churn, dissecting every line of Sebastian's interview and speculating about the unseen husband who had captured the attention of the world's most untouchable man.
Inside, the truth was far quieter. Laughter carried gently through the rooms, punctuated by playful nudges, warm touches, and affection. Eight years of companionship and trust revealed themselves not through grand declarations, but through ease, familiarity, and care woven into ordinary moments.
The world was free to wonder. Sebastian already knew all that mattered.