My Dirty Little Secret

Secret Thirty-Six: Sleepless Nights

"Ah, Ciel, you've finally come," the boy with the gun smiled at him angrily, his gun pointed to Sebastian's beaten body, tied to the chair, and his other gun pointed to Vincent, half alive, tied to another chair.

"Who do you love more? Who do you want to save?" he said. Ciel stood there, unable to speak. He didn't love either one more, he didn't want either one to die.

"Well?" the boy frowned, why wasn't Ciel answering? Ciel tried to open his mouth again, to say something, but he couldn't. He wouldn't chose. He loved them both. He wanted them both to stay alive.

"By choosing neither, you rejected your only hope," the boy frowned and shook his head. Both guns fired at the same time. Ciel watched in horror as the bodies grew limp. He couldn't do anything to help them. Ciel couldn't move or speak, he could only stand there crying.

"No," he managed to whisper, "No!"

...

Ciel woke up screaming. He had been having these nightmares a lot recently. The same general idea, in many different ways. The incident has sunk into his brain, eating him alive. He curled up into a ball and rocked himself back and forth, hugging his knees and breathing as best he could. 

Vincent opened the door to his room and ran over to him. His father was in his pajamas, he must have woken up because of Ciel. Had he screamed that loud? Well, their rooms weren't that far away from each other, it wasn't like it was impossible for him to hear. Ciel felt guilty in another sense. Partially from his dream father dying, and partially because his father's sleep was disrupted.

"I'm sorry," Ciel whispered.

"It happened again, didn't it?" Vincent hugged Ciel, soothing him, assuring him that he was still there, still breathing. Ciel nodded, he had cried so much in the last few days, he felt stupid. Ciel was angry with himself for being so weak, he wouldn't cry now, he mustn't cry now. He had to get stronger, to overcome this. Why wasn't his body doing what he wanted? Why wasn't his brain okay? They should be, they should submit to him.

School would be starting up again soon, he couldn't go like this, he wouldn't be able to survive. Vincent knew that, but he also knew that his son couldn't stay here...he would lose his scholarship. He would also be alone while Vincent was at work, which is a far worse thing for him right now. Ciel had to be with people more than ever. Vincent could tell, and so could Ciel.

The fear of being alone.

Something happens when people are alone, something goes off in their brains. They think it is the end, especially now that Ciel didn't know who to trust and who to hate. He didn't expect one of his own to shoot up the school. He didn't expect the quiet kid in the back of the class to be a murderer.

Now that everyone was the enemy, who was his friend?

What if Vincent was actually against him too? Who could he trust now? His world was falling apart. Everything seemed fake, everyone was wearing a mask.

"I'm fine now," Ciel pushed his father away, instantly regretting his decision. Vincent smiled, the way he always did, trying to hide his sadness. Ciel felt guilty, but there wasn't really a better way to shut someone out. He wanted to be alone, even if it was the thing he hated the most. His brain wasn't making any sense. Was it a reaction to his stress? Ciel sighed, his father left him, silently praying he would be okay. 

He wouldn't be.

But he could try.

Vincent closed the door to Ciel's room and stood there silently. He didn't want to leave his son, even though that was what Ciel claimed to want, so he slid his back down the door and sat, quietly, hoping Ciel would be okay. He hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. It hurt him the most. He had already failed Ciel as a father plenty of times before this, so what was the best way to act now? He didn't know. Vincent held his head in his hands and clenched his teeth. It was frustrating. Aggravating. Annoying. But he couldn't think of what to do. How to help.

You're a failure of a father. Ciel hates you now. You can't even comfort your child properly, of course your wife left you. It is only natural that Diedrich died, he met you. The Undertaker will leave too, just like Ciel, everyone leaves you Vincent, no one cares about the father who lost his company...to his wife.

Maybe you should end it all.

Vincent stood up and wandered to the kitchen, he sat at the table and stared at the center. A bottle stood there, staring at him, coaxing him to drink. He stared back, trying to reason with his brain, trying to tell himself these dark thoughts had to leave. 

You'll become an alcoholic. But drink Vincent, that is the only way to free yourself right now...unless you'd rather die.

Drinking was death in a sense, the more you did it the more difficult it was to leave it behind. Vincent flung the bottle off the table and watched as the glass shattered. He paced back and forth in the kitchen, not caring if his bare-feet would get cut. 

Look at you, stupid father, battling with yourself when your son should be on your mind. Your son has it worse right now, stop pitying yourself. Just deal with it, like an adult.

Vincent ran his hand over his face, trying to calm himself down. Ciel might have heard that crash, he might only get more scared. What was he doing? He shouldn't be acting like this.

Failure.

No one loves you.

They'll leave.

Better face the facts.

Just die.

Vincent felt arms wrap around him, but he didn't know who it was. He just accepted them. It couldn't be Ciel. His son wasn't that tall.

"You aren't alone anymore Vincent, so get that out of your mind. I'm not going to leave you, ever, so don't worry anymore. I don't care if the world hates you, if your son leaves, if you end up homeless and broke again, I'm always going to be here," the voice said. Vincent nodded, understanding now. 

"Uny," Vincent hid his face in The Undertaker's neck and returned the hug that had been given to him. He was a fool, he knew that better than anyone else, but at least he wasn't alone anymore.

The Undertaker picked Vincent up and placed him on the counter-top. Vincent watched as The Undertaker cleaned up his mess but he didn't stop him. His feet hurt too much to worry about that. Vincent looked down, he hadn't even noticed that his feet were bleeding from the glass. He stared at them, watching the blood drip off. The cuts weren't too deep, thankfully, but they still hurt. Imagine a cat scratching you lightly a thousand times. It hurts. But the cuts will heal within a few days.

The Undertaker grabbed a bowl and filled it with water, he kneeled by Vincent's feet and began to wash them. 

"You don't have to do that," Vincent said but The Undertaker continued anyway. The warm water stung but Vincent didn't complain, he brought this upon himself. The Undertaker lifted Vincent's foot up to his face and started licking the water off with his tongue.

"Uny," Vincent giggled, "that tickles! Stop! Just get a towel or something!" Vincent tried to talk some reason into The Undertaker, but the silver-haired man couldn't care less. Vincent wanted to argue, to say that it was gross, but there wasn't a real issue since The Undertaker had washed his feet. So Vincent was forced to sit there, laughing, as The Undertaker tortured him.

"Uny, you demon," Vincent huffed angrily. He could barely breathe from laughing so much.

"I'm not a demon, I'm a reaper," The Undertaker picked up Vincent, bridal style, and carried him back to his room.

"You're doing unnecessary things again, I can walk still," Vincent said.

"It isn't unnecessary, I love you Vince," Vincent smiled, not able to counter argue that statement. He rested his head on The Undertaker's shoulder and silently allowed the 'reaper' to carry him back.

A/N: I'm going to be author trash and tell you to go read That Mortician;Desires because its also Vintaker and i'vepropsalreadytoldyoutoreaditbeforebutwhatever....*runs away without regrets before you start throwing tomatoes*