Let's be Friends || Black Butler x Male! Reader

Dawn: Part One

The Undertaker's shop was like many others. It had been one of your first observations upon seeing it when the Undertaker had taken you in. Still, it had only just recently occured to you that you had never truly explored it's bounds.

Your observations were simple ones. Like the multiple homes and buildings surrounding the shop, the shop was two stories tall. Also similarly to surroundings shops, the Undertaker's shop was within only the entrance of the first story. In the shop was a hall that led to your actual residence. The hall had it's own door, but it remained open for a majority of the time due to you and the Undertaker constantly moving between the two.

Once you entered the hall, to your actual home, there was your bedroom, the Undertaker's bedroom, a washroom, and then the kitchen. If you, hypothetically speaking, were to walk into the hall, the order would go as such.

Your bedroom is first to the left, the Undertaker's is next, except on the right. The washroom would be after that, on the left. The kitchen is neither on the left or right. Instead, the hall simply leads into the kitchen.

If you were to enter the kitchen, you would find that there is a staircase on its far left that led to the second floor.

You didn't quite understand how you never paid much mind to it. It seemed as if the Undertaker never did either. It was always out of conversation, never of importance. Was it of importance? You did not know.

But it was morning time, and the Undertaker and yourself were eating breakfast, so you didn't want to bring up such an unusual topic, regardless of how unusual the two of you already were. Besides, the Undertaker seemed to be exhausted from staying up for, what you assumed was, all night.

So, you quietly ate.

You were not new to eating. You had done it before. You didn't do it often, but you were familiar with it.

The first time you had done so was back home.

Well, not exactly your current home, but what used to be.

You tried a pear, once, though you don't entirely remember what it tasted like. Did you enjoy it? Was it sweet, savory? You couldn't recall. You were quite young.

You could, however, recall the sweet, delectable food that was apples.

Apples were delicious, the most delicious. You couldn't compare anything to an apple, because you simply could not think of anything as incredibly fulfilling as an apple.

They were juicy and sweet. They had that lingering taste that never soured. Bright red, green, yellow. All of them, you loved. But red apples were by far your favorite.

By the reason that your father was a farmer, it was often that he would bring some food when returning home. He always brought apples. Your mother loved them.

You could recall how as soon as he came, he'd greet the two of you before handing out two apples. One for her, one for you. He'd keep one for himself, but he would not eat until the two of you were finished. The reason for that is because he'd hold back her hair, her outrageously long, lustrous hair, as so it would not disrupt her meal. She'd give him a look of no amusement and tell him time and time again that she was fine and she did not need assistance. He'd hum softly before moving to sit behind her and grab her hair within his palms, holding it back and occasionally braiding it. She'd scoff in a fake annoyance, while actually clearly charmed and enamored. Then, the two of you would begin to eat, and he would tell the two of you of his day. Once the two of you finished, you'd find your way into her lap and she'd place her chin on top of you head. In turn, he'd eat in front of you both, as the two of you took turns talking about your days.