Black Butler One-shots

Time Is Ticking (Sebeth)

He could never understand the concept of time.
It was such a human thing. And he needn't calculate every moment of it because immortality stretched out so far. It would be like measuring a mile with individual grains of rice.

Tedious—and unnecessary.

Sebastian indulges in the curious oddities of the human world—how people rush from place to place, always going, going, going; always moving, moving, moving.

But his role as the Phantomhive butler is punctured by time; everything must be completed within its consigned time slot or else the structure of the schedule would be ruined and important engagements postponed. Yes, he has learned the value of time (if only for this moment in his infinite life) but he does not—he physically cannot—appreciate it.

Not truly.

She's valued time. Every moment of everday was something special to her. She loved the rush of excitement and endless possibilities they hold. Everything she ever wished for fell at her feet.

Eyes, wide with eager, and joy effusivly bright. Takes in every second. Elizabeth hardly understood sadness that painted brilliant golden dawn a sad and monotonous blue read in poems and expressed in song.

She bears her burden with silent suffering, cognizant of what lies beyond her rosy world but hopeful enough to fight for its existence. And that, the demon supposes (with unadorned interest), makes her a bit more interesting than all the others.

But time is ticking.

Things are ever close to falling apart. He won't know what to do when that time comes. And a sharp sting of guilt coarses through his veins. His act must become undone sometime after all. He's afraid of those eyes.

Those energetic an hopeful eyes becoming scornful and harsh. Filled with disgust and rejection.

And in this moment he appreciated the value of time. That every second of peace and picnics in the garden should be cherished. Every laugh that painted her graceful features remembered. And every tear catalogued to future consolment.

She's fearful. She could no longer agree with time. She wished that Cronos would seize and time would be still. Not much is left.

Because time is ticking.

Her doctor visits once more. Her illness is getting worse.

One day at high tea she passes out mysteriously. Concern is amidst the butler.

Because time is ticking.

She confesses to having but a day at most.

Because time is ticking.

He spends every second of it with her. She can't feel much, her skin white as snow nearly faints apon the lightest of blue.

Because time is ticking.

He runs his silken clad fingers across her cold cheek. Leaning in against her frail body. His raven black hair falling onto her rosy cheeks. Their lips brush together. He tastes exotic cinnamon.

He's never tasted anything like it. So pure and warm. He wants to hold it forever but he knows...

Time is ticking.

Weakly she smiles. Eyes half-lidded and breathe inexplicably slow. Elizabeth's dainty hands touch his cheek. But her body feels so tired she must rest her eyes.

Time has stopped.

She's gone.

Never has a demon felt so...so miserable and...and the word humans use.

Sad.

Time is a miserable reminder that everything must one day die. Time is of little value to a demon in any case. He realizes that he should have never tried to learn of the foolishness humans indulge in. That it all were simply a mistake that time—yes time—would forget.

Because time, is always ticking.

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