The sky was a dull spread of blood.

Thick droplets slid, sticky and wet, off the petals of the flowers and the slanted stems of the leaves before falling gently into the damp, dark soil.

His new shoes squeaked as he hurried along, and Sebastian spared them a glance of frigid irritation, before reaching into his coat for his watch. Winding the chain around his finger unconsciously, he saw the minute hand move, and realised that the sun would rise in exactly forty seven minutes. Overhead, a shard of lightning split the sky and he walked faster, successfully quelling the quick impulse that called at him to return to that old, dilapidated apartment.

This year would be the hundredth year.

Like their first meeting, much of their acquaintance had been stained in the crimson shade, one as dark as the other, and there had been amusement and a curious fascination at the beginning in finding a twin soul in a helpless, pathetic member of the human race. In the chamber's darkness, a boy endured the horrors inflicted by man onto man, and when the knife had pointed at him in turn, the child gazed long and hard at the glassy eyes of god and screamed for the demon.

Out of simple curiosity, he had responded.

After the child's revenge had been completed, his rights to live were forsaken, and he had been in control until the end when the glimmer of a master he knew came back into those dull blue eyes.

Will it hurt?

And he had hesitated, believing it to be curiosity which stayed his hand.

It had been a hundred years since they met, where one had pursued while the other fled, and one had stood still while the other strode across the world in glacial boots, and after a century, this was where they both stood.

They had spent almost five whole years together after he gave Ciel a new lease of life. In that period, he had almost found himself enjoying his service to the child who remained just as temperamental and moody, yet with his soul rotting little by little just as his demon butler encouraged. He didn't think he was simply flattering himself, when Ciel called him into his bedroom at night even when he was past the age of nightmares, and nor had it gone unnoticed that the child grew increasingly attached to him, preferring his company over the rest of his staff. They had been virtually inseparable as Sebastian took it upon himself to teach the child about the ways of the world, and brought him up to model himself in perfectionist tendencies. It had been five short years, too brief and too brilliant, but the child had become a virtuoso on the violin, a beauty of careless glamour, a businessman to the blood as he brought down entire companies and rebuilt them on a whim.

Always, his pride as an aristocrat had allowed him to hold his head high, even when he had to remain hidden to avoid detection when it came to his cold, ageless features which remained innocent, childlike and unsullied by the sordid indulgences of the world. They had been inseparable. Then, Sebastian had been called into the study one day after breakfast, and had been told in no uncertain terms that he was free to leave and that his final task was to avoid interfering in his young master's life ever again.

He never understood why, and his young master had never explained.

Undeterred, he began to visit his young master in the following years, and found him to possess the usual frosty attitude towards him. When Tanaka died, Ciel took down all the mirrors in the Phantomhive estate. When Elizabeth was engaged to a count and Ciel had not even been invited to the reception, no one else in the estate noticed, but Sebastian saw the violet bruises beneath his eyes. Ciel's sapphire eye had caught his then, and even while smiling, he had bid his demon butler a good night as the door was gently closed in his face.

Without warning, the child moved to a new part of a city by himself, and Sebastian wasn't exactly sure how he had managed to survive then, with the access codes to the bank vaults controlled by Sebastian who had perfectly remembered every single one of them.

Until the last drop of blood ran from his veins, there was no way he could escape from the demon.

Sebastian smiled, a touch of cruelty to his lips, until he saw his young master walking in the rain.

"Young master! What do you think you're doing out here? You'd catch a cold in this stormy weather," he chastised gently as he hurried forward to seize the child.

"Honestly, I told you a hundred times not to wander around in the rain before, didn't I?" Sebastian continued in exasperation, holding out his hand for the young boy to take, trusting that the child would come to him, shy and willing. The little boy did, looking abashed, yet with a tell-tale triumph lingering on his lips as he held out his other hand to touch the silky caress of the rain.

The child went indoors, and Sebastian closed the door gently behind them, pretending that he didn't notice the soaked creature that had been following behind him all the way from the other apartment.

-

Maybe it was simple cruelty.

Maybe it was revenge for turning his back on his most faithful companion for so long.

But Sebastian was a demon and demons did not forgive. The yearning in his blood to hurt Ciel was one out of sheer malice and not one that arose from a grudge. To imply that it was the latter meant that the other had the power to injure him, and Sebastian gave no one that kind of control over him. He had spent the better part of a century searching for a way to regain the child's trust, and when Ciel broke down in his arms, he had felt a sense of triumph.

"Please don't leave me," the child had said.

He wondered if that plea remained true even now.

He returned to the apartment several days later, wondering if he would find a furious Ciel who would demand never to see him again, or a subdued one who would hide behind the demeanour of a cold aristocrat to mask his wounds.

His young master had always loved games, and he intended this one to be the best game of his life.

Raising his hand to knock, he heard the distinct sound of Ciel's laughter floating up the stairs. His eyes narrowed into flared slits of crimson as his charge stumbled over the steps, still laughing as his companion caught him easily around the wait and pulled him down for a kiss. They separated abruptly, when they caught sight of Sebastian, his eyes furious as he took in the dishevelled appearance of the pair.

"Uh…another client of yours?" the man asked uncertainly, his arm still looped around Ciel's slender waist.

"Nah, he can't afford my rates." Ciel chuckled, leaning up to nuzzle his neck affectionately.

"Really?" the other man snickered incredulously, sparing a quick glance at Sebastian. His eyes snapped back to Ciel as the other breathed against his throat, nipping it sharply before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it as if to demand his full attention.

"Huh. Kinda…" he murmured, casually sliding a hand between Ciel's legs, "Kinda cheap of him, don't you think so?"

The earl whimpered a little and the soft sound made the other groan involuntarily, as he pulled him tight against his body for another kiss, grinding their erections together. A light blush rose on Ciel's cheeks as he laughed a little at the other's enthusiasm, taking his hand and pulling him into the apartment, without a backward glance at Sebastian.

After a few moments, Sebastian was able to smile. Several of his nails had torn from the force in which he had been digging them into the concrete wall, leaving sticky crescents of blood mixed into the crumbled dust of the flaking wall.

He couldn't remember the last time he was this enraged.

-

The doorknob turned easily under his grasp.

So the boy knew that he would come.

He didn't give in to his initial impulses earlier, which demanded that he should tear apart the doors and wrench that poor fool out of his lecherous embrace with the boy, shredding him into pieces on the spot. It would have given him pleasure to have had the dark, thick liquid dripping over the ends of his nails, the fresh feel of soft brains impacting with the floor as he mercilessly crushed that pretty head into splinters. But he realised that it was probably what the child had intended, and he did so dislike to play a written role in the script.

Nevertheless, he had returned to that apartment, an hour after he had satiated his bloodlust satisfactorily. It took him more time he had expected, and less time than he had hoped, but parts of his victim were now spread in an obscene mass of red, slick against a wall.

Strangely enough, it had been somewhere between the forcible removal of intestines and the tearing out of a weakly beating heart where he heard the same subdued voice echo in his head.

A memory of a wintry day in December.

This is how I choose to live.

He had paused, thoughts unfurling one by one, peeling away to reveal the hidden core.

"This is how I choose to live. This is how I choose, to live." He murmured wonderingly, a manic sense of relief washing over him. It had been so simple all along, just another child's desires aching, bewildering, twisting into his gut. Unknowingly, violet thorns had embedded themselves into his young master's soul, tearing him apart from the inside, relentlessly pushing their way out into the open.

-

"So you came, after all."

He watched closely this time, paid attention to every flicker of those long eyelashes and the involuntary widening of eyes when he stepped through the doorway silently. His unnatural silence and his malice hushed – it was only what his lord would have wanted – and he saw his reflection in that clear blue eye, beneath those generous lashes, a single hand gloved in white as he held out his hand and waited expectantly for his young master.

Was it worth it, my lord?

Yes. Yes, every minute of it.

His lord had waited until he had left, before he allowed himself to cry, the racking sobs audible through the thin door. His aunt had died and kept her vow of silence, she hadn't told anyone of Sebastian's origins, but she had not professed any desire to see her nephew either. His lord's kin had vanished off the face of the chessboard, as his parents, his aunt and now the marchioness disappearing as silently as they came. One by one, the pieces were vanishing, pointing to Sebastian as the sole inheritor of the young Earl's trust, and something of that fierce reliance on a single entity must have chilled him to the bone.

Only a demon, ambivalent and merciless.

"You chose to live," he said simply, and watched as the flicker of a brief emotion confirmed his doubts.

There were no more reasons to sustain his lord's interest in the world; neither wealth nor prestige, neither friends nor family could plead their attachment to the blue-eyed youth, to convince him that the struggle to live was a greater pleasure than the succinct temptation of death. All he possessed was the promise of his butler to serve by his side endlessly, and the cold temptation of the stretched life of a half-human and demon; life and death no longer seemed as distinct as they were but reflecting mirrors showing the touch of two hands separated by an invisible divide.

"Promise that you will not let anyone touch you like that again," he murmured, leaning down till his lips could brush Ciel's ear. He stiffened as his fingers froze on the lapels of his jacket momentarily, before he began to remove Sebastian's jacket unsteadily.

"You're asking for a lot, you bastard."

He noticed that Ciel didn't disagree, and he smiled, even when he was busy stripping the young man, intentionally brushing against him from time to time and making him shudder. His fingers brushed the soft, long fringe gently to the side, caressing the black silky cloth that covered the evidence of their bond. Pressing a kiss against the cloth gently, fingers curled into the soft skin at the back of Ciel's neck, his heart harboured an odd note of triumph when the child's breathing became uneven.

"Do you love me?" Ciel asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you ordering me to?"

For a moment, he thought he had broken his most cherished possession, the abrupt look in Ciel's eyes so wild and the depths of misery in them making him want to break his own rules to sample the clear, flawed flavour of the boy's soul. It called to him, mesmerising like the sheer intensity of lush plum lines embedded in the iridescent shimmer of a clear amethyst held to light.

Then the wind chime had tinkled softly, and that moment passed.

"Just curious." Ciel smiled at him, and pulled him close against his body.

-

Ciel was gone the next morning.

He spent the next half of the year, focusing on his duties in the Whitfield mansion, sharpening his skills as a butler. He was endlessly complimented by his master, and sought after by his master's rivals for the keenness of his business sense and the ruthlessness of his despatch of weaker companies. He was feared in the conglomerate that the Whitfield family had steadily built up over generations even though he had helped them to avert the bankruptcy which had appeared inevitable until several years ago, when the butler had first arrived at the family. There were rumours that he was of supernatural origins of course, but he dismissed those rumours offhandedly and smiled to show his amusement at such foolish notions.

His immediate master was pleased with his success, but the man was old and his days were limited.

At any rate, his contract would be due to be completed within a year.

He was in no hurry to search for Ciel. Indeed, he had no reason to do so. Now that his doubts had been confirmed, he knew for a certainty that Ciel Phantomhive loved him and he was sure that the young boy would return to London before long, seeking out his company where he had avoided it before. It was inevitable. That one night, he could see the child's desperation in his eyes and it was only a matter of time before they met again, perhaps even in a glimpse in the cold of the streets.

The night was starting to fall, and the chill had begun to settle in the streets where the faded leaves gathered at the side of the roads, swept up by the wind.

-

He awoke when December came.

Spirits were high and the festivities were endless, the season of celebration in riotous tumult with the glitter of beckoning shops and the incessant choirs of Christmas carols broadcasted everywhere. Red and green were seen on numerous doors, frosted windows and sprays of faux flowers entwined with the sparkling Christmas lights which changed their colours repetitively. Showers of gold and silver were thrown onto each stark tree, angels and five pointed stars dangling from their very tips.

It had started to snow a week ago, a gentle fall of white that had gathered on the roofs and turned to sludge on the roads.

He caught a snowflake on his tongue, his eyes alighting on a familiar apartment in the distance.

It was the 14th of December again.

He made his way there on foot, bearing an elaborate cake that he had baked over the course of the day. It was a chocolate fondant cake with a Swiss meringue butter cream outer coat to cut the sweetness of the melting chocolate; while swirls of whipped cream and sugar powdered strawberries lined the circumference. It was a beautiful sight, as repulsive as it would taste to him, but he had no doubt that the sugared monstrosity would have set many mouths watering.

Passing the church on the right, he ignored the blaze that skirted his periphery in flickering orange and yellow, the voices raised in simultaneous harmony, as the snow started to fall in greater amounts from the sky.

The piano chords made something twist in his chest.

Hurry.

It took him longer than he had hoped, but less time than he had expected, before he reached the foot of the apartment block. A sudden draft caused loose sheets of newspapers to flutter across the lift landing, rustling against his foot as he stood and waited for the lift to descend. The strange sense of urgency that had gripped him only moments before had dissipated.

Moments later, he stood in front of the door with the rusted grills.

He raised his hand to knock, only to find that the door swung open at a touch, the cold winds blowing into it swiftly. The lights did not work, and the claustrophobic grey of the London skies had infiltrated the apartment, leaving the place hollowed and the sound of dripping water and the single bell of the wind chime, loud against the canyon of the ash-like home.

The sounds of life did not carry through, but the stench of blood was burning through him.

Flickering light came from the half-opened bathroom door.

A bathtub of blood, lush rose petals floating on the glassy surface, a single stained razor that had fallen haphazardly to the side, and left traces of crimson against the floor. Candles lit the bathroom and threw the boy's face into shadow. Unnaturally white and unmarked by the sanguinary pool that he lay in, his head rested against the side of the off-white tub.

Beside the tub, was a small, black velvet box tied in a crimson ribbon.

Sebastian bent down and picked up the box, loosening the ribbon with practised ease. His cold fingers pried it open carefully, to reveal the heirloom of the Phantomhive family, a brilliant blue diamond set in a silver ring.

A ring to watch over the deaths of all its owners.

If Ciel couldn't have him completely to himself, then his life was not worth living? It was such a childish notion, wanting to belong to one another completely, from their bodies to their souls. He despaired at the foolish, romantic notion of humans, obsessed with the strange, elusive illusion they believed to be love. It was nothing but a delusion, nothing but a strange fancy to ease the passage of years, a farce to calm the delirium of society into believing that they too, could belong to someone who would love them as completely as they had hoped.

Even so, this would be the hundredth year.

He had lived and breathed in a dream that lasted a hundred years, and he had yet to awaken from it.

He picked up the razor and loosened his tie.

-

Until the bitter end, I will follow you.