Infinite

Chapter 2

I awoke exhausted; the light flooding in through the lacy curtains harsh and unpleasant. I haven't been able to shake my incurable tiredness since I was locked within iron bars and covered in blood and grit and tears. I shifted, wanting nothing more than to sink deeper into the bed, and into sleep its self. I could see Sebastian's shadow moving about behind my eyelids... could sense his brooding darkness. It was comforting. His voice was even more so when he spoke,

"It is time to rise, young master."

I resisted the urge to reach blindly for him... to pull him down next to me and order him to forget whatever menial tasks had arisen for the day. But I didn't. I still had some dignity left. I forced my eyes to open for that overbearing brightness, stretching at the way sweat had cooled on my skin and stuck the sheets to me.

I sat up as the sounds of Sebastian's rustling for clothes became prominent. I sighed. My chest was tight, and I let out a cough when the air had been expelled. I felt him glance to me, checking to make sure I was alright. I was, and he knew it. My asthma was but a minor issue. It only caused problems when my physical exertion had become too much... and with Sebastian around, it didn't matter anyways. I cleared my throat as quietly as I could. I wanted not to disturb the solemn silence in the room. I wanted the chaos to stay away... wanted to remain serene and relaxed in the presence of my butler.

He brought fourth the shine of blue silk; a crushing wave from the seas of a seamstress' hands. He set that glimmering cloth onto the bed beside where I now sat; legs hanging over the side as my feet didn't quite touch the floor. His hands began to unbutton my nightshirt. They pulled each little clasp of ivory free with a quick flick of his long, slender fingers. I marveled at him... silent. He was so far from being human, yet he lived this way seamlessly. He fooled those he met with his breath and heartbeat... and the way he could make blood rush to his cheeks and warm his features. But I knew what he was. I couldn't forget, and I wouldn't. He was never as human to me as he was to anyone else. For his eyes flashed only for me... I alone was allowed to see the way those black tendrils of smoke would curl around my ankles, or pool around his hands when he let that guise slip for a single moment.

I shivered as my skin was exposed to cold air; goosebumps rising upon the pale flesh of my arms.

"What's the schedule for today?"

He draped me in clean, white muslin. The ruffles of the shirt brushed against my wrists and neck... caressing my skin softly.

"You have a meeting with that gentleman Louis Andrè regarding further expanses of Funtom at noon. After that you have violin, and a lesson on English history by none other than myself, my lord."

I couldn't help the slight upturning of my lips as he draped those oceanic shorts and jacket over my soft, quaint figure.

"Whatever gave you the right to become a tutor anyways, Sebastian?"

I couldn't help but tease.

"I do believe it was when you entrusted me with your well being, sir. A young mind such as yours needs stimuli... otherwise you would become bored and act out, no?"

I could hear the smile playing within his voice. it washed over me as the now pleasant sunlight did. I allowed myself that moment.

"Hmm."

I hummed, leaning back onto my hands as he began dressing my feet in socks and shoes,

"I suppose. Though I do only hire the best. You are most equipped, aren't you?"

His gaze was impish as it locked with mine.

"Of course."

Mousier Andrè was the typical, egotistical frenchman. His thick accent hung in the air like silk as we discussed opening future Funtom stores in Paris and the surrounding areas. Our talk was about at stimulating as watching paint dry or grass grow, but I knew it was necessary. I felt my blood thicken at what I was begotten to. I simply smiled with my teeth full of a tiredness I kept beneath them. I blinked back the haze that my eyes begot to push forth; speaking in a language I never question learning. But my voice lacked the romance of it's native tongue... it had no space for the love of France to bury its self in. I breathed in deep, listening... trying to remind myself that my lungs still had to work. Beneath those roofs and walls of plaster it was hard for me to remember that I was alive.