My Butler, His Master

26. Poupée

-26-

Poupée

As the music slowly faded away, Ciel could only hear the sound of his own heavy breathing, and the steady thump of the heart held deep within the black clad torso that he pressed his forehead against. He searched inside himself; all the thousands of questions he wanted to scream at the demon held captive beneath him floated up to the surface, but he could not settle for a single one. Overwhelmed by the pain that gripped his body like a vice and shook him senseless, he finally managed to whisper forcibly, "Say something."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Ciel felt his body suddenly plunge into subzero, his breath catching in his throat like a stone and nearly choking him, as the flirtatious purr caused Ciel's head to shoot up, as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head. The face did not belong to the that did not belong to Sebastian, but to a very intoxicated and enamored Grell. Ciel's eyes widened in shock, as he slowly looked around him, seeing that the ornately adorned Phantomhive parlor had translated itself into the brooding scarlet and black bed chambers of the Rouge Manor. A little frantic with confusion, Ciel blinked, unable to comprehend the change, before he looked down and noticed that his current position was straddling the rather puzzled Death God's chest, fistfuls of his master's shirt and vest balled up in his fists.

"I-I-" Ciel stammered, as he watched the crimson reaper's lips curve into a wicked smile, "What... I-"

Slowly, he released his hold on his master's clothes, and rose slowly on his forearms, timidly as if he was straddling some sort of dangerous animal that could tear him apart. Despite his current situation, his head pounded with a feverish pulse, and his heart cried with a sharp pain from the cruel searing hot knife that Sebastian had plunged so far into him by trapping him in his own painful memories. The feeling of betrayal and ultimate disappointment festered in the pit of Ciel's stomach. The knife twisted further, as through his matted bangs, the startled boy blinked down at the person beneath his legs, feeling immediately the sense of urgency rise up along in his spine and scream at his mind to move. Unfortunately, as the boy subtly shifted one leg, the Death God snatched ahold of his wrist and pulled him down, netting his fingers around the back of the boy's head and pulling that delicate face close. Despite the obvious reluctance from his little victim, Grell attempted to plant a kiss upon those soft pursed lips, though Ciel wriggled too much to allow the reaper such satisfaction.

"If you would have told me that sooner, I would have easily helped you," Grell crooned, though Ciel thrashed a little, trying to keep his distance as best he could, "You kept saying all those romantic things, confessing how you truly feel~!"

The enamored reaper twisted his long fingers in the snow white hair, his voice lilting as he quoted the boy's declarations verbatum, "'You leave me here to rot, and you play these stupid mind games', and 'destroy me, already!', and 'make up your mind!' So you actually wanted it all this time! I should have known you were just playing hard to get~!"

"THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU!" Ciel shouted, wriggling desperately, teeth gritted. The knife buried in his heart twisted further.

"Oh really?" Grell looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked in scrutiny, "Then who was it for?"

Ciel would have said exactly who it was for, but as he thought back to the moments before he came to, and the desperate situation he had woken up in, the more he just wanted to tear out of the reaper's grasp as fast as he could, run outside, and scream his heart out into the night sky. No wound in the world could amount to the pain born once again to Ciel's tortured mind and soul, and slowly, he could feel his own resolve crumble into the churning sea of chaos raging within himself. The frustration of the illusion taunted and tore at his mind, and the rude awakening was the beyond the breaking point. He twisted a little in the reaper's grasp, his effort to escape dwindling as he was overcome by the torment of the beautiful, cruel lie. His wounded psyche grasped at straws, trying to find a reason behind the mirage; a denial that could save his sanity.