Tales of Tribulation

8

Ciel lies under his duvet and glares at Sebastian who tucks him under the covers and draws the curtains of his four-poster. The lamp beside his bed creates a warm yellow glow making Ciel's hair appear dusky blue. "That was humiliating!" he tantrums as he's tucked in. Sebastian's calm smile infuriates him more and more by the second. Just looking down on him light that, it's an outrage. "How dare you embarrass me in front of them!"

"I was simply following my instincts as a Phantomhive butler, My Lord," Sebastian hides his smile behind his hair. Ciel scoffs and looks away in fury but not before reaching up, grabbing Sebastian's collar and dragging him down for a kiss. The butler is thrown off guard for a second, the kiss being quick and intense. Sebastian hastily pulls away and stammers out a quick 'goodnight' before leaving.

Alone in the long and empty corridor, Sebastian gently presses his gloves hand to his lips. They feel rough compared to Ciel's. The distance between them stretches wider the longer it dwells on his mind. He's self conscious enough with Ciel and now this manor seems like an endless maze of internalised hatred. It's so strange as he looks around in the darkness. Out of place and scary, like its his first time here, stranded alone in the middle of the night with nobody to help him escape this dangerous, foreign place. Sebastian growls to himself and leaves the manor, grabbing his skateboard from his bedroom on the way out.

He walks the twenty minutes to the nearest train station on pitch black country roads, only the faint glow of city lights in the distance to navigate his way. Reaching the station he smokes in the biting nightly cold. Boarding the train he nestles into a corner seat. The train is empty but warm, he snuggles further into the seat and plans on napping. This feels better but not relaxing enough to sleep in. It's more familiar although still odd. The English countryside is a quaint place with entirely pitch black cottages and bleakly empty stations until he gets closer into the city. The train begins to fill with the expected midnight train demographic and it actually feels more comfortable being stared at threateningly on a train for his appearance than being alone on one.

"What?" he snaps at a group of chavs sitting a little along from him, who keep looking over and snickering amongst themselves.

"You a fuckin' goth mate?" one asks, causing the others to burst out laughing. Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"I could kill you in a second you degenerate cretin,"

"Ooooh," the group laughs. The leader stands, whipping out a small switchblade from his pocket. Sebastian stands too, hearing the audacious laughter when he brandishes a butterknife from inside his tailcoat. They stand in the train. The chav swipes at him a few times but Sebastian dodges. Finally he manages a small cut on Sebastian's cheek, drawing a thin layer of blood. The chav dives in to slash his side before Sebastian lunges forward, ripping into the chav's hand with the butterknife.

The leader screams and drops the blade which clatters onto the train floor. Blood splatters onto the floor and seats, dripping from the deep gash between his index finger and thumb. "You...fucking prick!" he cries, the rest of the group frozen in shock. They stare wide eyed, whimpering before they retreat, running to the other end of the carriage away from this deranged steampunk enthusiast. The rest of the passengers watch kind if indifferently - one is videoing the group run with a grin in support of Sebastian's victory.

Sebastian hops off the train at the next stop and walks the last mile to the skate park. It's almost midnight and the place is buzzing with skaters and random people from his high school and the area. The smell of cheap tonic wine wafts towards Sebastian and he can finally relax, feeling entirely at home. Getting on the ramps he nods a greeting to Claude who's about as skilled as he is on a board but only comes here to drink in a glorious waste of talent.