Ok, everyone, this is the last part of this story. This story is now complete. This part is shorter than both of the other ones, but I think it works how it is.
Warnings: Unbeta'd, yaoi/slash/shounenai (but nothing big in this part, this warning is mostly for part l), confusion, and the lovely angst we all love to pile on.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, nor the quotes from songs by Sufjan Stevens, and MIKA, respectively.
Here we go~
Songbird
Part lll: Beneath the Floorboards
"Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid."
John Wayne Gacy, Jr., as sung by Sufjan Stevens
Little songbird is free.
The mansion is empty.
Sebastian Michaelis keeps all of his secrets locked in the mansion's attic, beneath the floorboards, covered in dust and paint and ash. He should feel secure, he thinks, but it is not the case.
He knows that sometimes, even locks aren't enough.
The demon tries to ignore it, he really does. But it isn't his fault that every little thing in the world is all too reminiscent of his past. He flinches every time he sees sapphires, and he can never look at London Bridge without imagining a small boy plunging into the depths of the Thames River below it. He can never watch puppet shows again, and moonlight pouring in from windows only makes him sick.
Every once in awhile, when that sick feeling builds to the point that it becomes unbearable, Sebastian acquiesces to the sliver of himself that wants to hold on to the past. He hates it, he knows it is a weakness, but sometimes, he just can't help himself.
And those are the instances in which he returns to the mansion. He tells himself it's because he's checking the locks. But really, deep down inside, he knows he is only hoping to loosen them.
It's Christmas day.
Sebastian doesn't allow himself to think.
He roams London's filthy, crowded streets. He searches for souls to prey upon, for darkness in humans that he can exploit. He is jostled harshly from his left by a woman in a hospital uniform, but he continues on down the street, unperturbed. He hears a little boy squeal with delight, and sees a group of men shoving their way into the crowd, attempting to sell their wares. Automobiles buzz by on the narrow streets, in many instances just barely avoiding pedestrians.
Sebastian pauses when a bitterly ironic feeling settles over him.
Even amidst the crush of human bodies surrounding him, during the high point of a bustling London day, he has never before felt so alone.
The sick, bitter feeling is eating him alive.
He decides it is about time to give in again.
Sebastian stands amidst a flurry of crisp, cold snow; a spot of black in the overwhelming brightness of the winter landscape. He stands at the front gate of the mansion, feeling the eerie calm emanating from the empty (usually bustling) city behind him.
He allows himself to push the gate open.
He is hyper-aware of each step he takes into the crunching snow.
Step.
Faustian contracts in amethyst purple.
Step.
Revival. Stability.
Step.
Letters from Queen Victoria.
Step.
An evening party at Viscount Druitt's mansion, and a violin lesson.
Step.
A marble statue crumbling into dust.
Step.
His young master's beautiful sapphire eyes.
Step.
The loss of a soul.
Step.
The creation of a songbird.
Step.
Little songbird is free, for...
He cautiously dusts off the longest panel of boarding on the attic's floor. His hand trembles, but the demon tells himself it's because of the cold. He pulls the board up slowly, ever...so...slowly.
The demon allows himself to kneel, to collapse onto his knees in some sort of twisted mock prayer. Say a few words for your beloved, a dark corner of his mind sarcastically remarks.
And he almost does.
Almost.
But he is not quite that far gone yet.
Staring up at him with closed eyes, from beneath a panel of glass, is the face of his dear young master. A young, perfect face, almost like that of a porcelain doll. The demon touches the transparent glass, but does not allow himself to go any further. He may be able to see his past clearly (through glass cases), but never again will he truly make contact with it.
Sebastian's unbeating heart wrenches painfully in his chest. He wonders how he could ever have allowed himself to make such a fatal mistake. He never should have become so attached...
Little songbird is free, for he has been slain.
Sometimes Sebastian wonders what it would be like if he lived in another universe.
"Take a bow, play the part
Of a lonely, lonely heart
Say goodbye,
To the world you thought you lived in."
Any Other World, as sung by MIKA.
The light in August is fading but lovely; it illuminates the thick fields in a way he never would have imagined possible. The sunlight glints against his tailcoat's brass buttons, and never has the demon felt more at peace. At the sound of ice clinking against glass, Sebastian turns to face Ciel, who is lounging on a picnic blanket, sipping his iced tea. The boy is quiet for a few moments as he takes in the golden fields that stretch as far as the eye can see.
"There aren't many days like this," Ciel says, looking out into the distance, and the butler has to agree.
Fin.
Just wanted to pop in again and give a HUGE thank you to my lovely reviewers :), it really does mean a lot to me. If there is any confusion over plot points and 'what the hell happened?!', and such, just message me ^0^.