Note: I was inspired to write this while putting on sunglasses one morning. That is all. Haha. The setting was influenced by my uni campus… so if it comes off as a lot different from what you'd expect from a Kuroshitsuji fic, good. That's exactly how it should be.

This is also the first fanfic I've written in nearly ten years… =A=; Please be gentle. [laughs]

The breeze swept through the open, columned corridor, stirring the leafy birches and the recently trimmed hedges beneath them. Hummingbirds flitted from hedge to hedge, seeking out sweet flowers to snack on. The whitewashed walls shone in the noontime sun, and the almost fully black-clad man sitting on a bench against one particular wall therefore stood out like a blot of ink on paper.

Even sitting, it was clear he was tall; long legs crossed elegantly beneath pressed pinstriped trousers that led down to a designer pair of pointed, suede Chelsea boots. Co-eds passing through the hallway all had one thing in common: their eyes were all pointed in the direction of the enigma sitting outside the lecture hall.

They couldn't be blamed.

He had model looks, eyes hidden under a pair of large black sunglasses with rounded square frames. His nose was straight with a delicate point, and his healthily pale skin sloped down to meet sensual lips, thin but soft. It was an interesting mouth, one corner perked ever so slightly—an almost archaic smile, present so the girls staring at him knew that he was indeed alive, and more than a pretty statue modeled on perfection. His raven hair fluttered gently, long fringe framing that half-hidden face as he peered down at his wrist.

Shrugging his sleeve back with one hand, he stared at the platinum Rolex, its silver-white face punctuated with gunmetal Roman numerals. Eleven forty-six. Four more minutes until the class inside the lecture hall let out; this professor was quite keen on keeping the students in until exactly end time, not wasting one precious cent of anyone's expensive tuition. The man waiting didn't mind.

He had all of eternity to wait, after all.

A pair of blonde American girls giggled as they walked past, their large eyes not making any secret of staring at him. He merely pushed the sleeve of his white shirt back down over the expensive wristwatch and looked off out past the open pillars of the corridor and at the sunny courtyard beyond. It was a gorgeous campus, well worth the money students paid to go here, in a perpetually sunny climate only a stone's throw from the nearest beach.

It was a long way from London, that was certain. The skies here were blue, filled with large, vanilla mousse clouds, nothing like the gray, overcast flood on the other side of the world. England was certainly home at this point, but a change here and there was definitely a relief.

In the clock tower across the courtyard, low bells began to ring, an early signal of the upcoming hour. One chime, two, four, six, ten, and finally twelve. A commotion rose in the lecture hall as students put their notebooks away and got ready to leave, which in turn caused the professor to speak even louder over the sudden noise.

And then they rushed out of the lecture hall like a veritable Noah's flood, loudly talking and laughing as they filtered out of two doors on opposite ends of the large room. The man sitting between the doors raised his pointed chin slightly and breathed in strong and deep, taking in the colorful scent of so many rich and varied souls buzzing all around him. The barest hint of a red tongue flitted out to wet those hypnotic lips. More doors along the lengthy corridor opened up like shots going off at a horse track, and even more students filled the surrounding courtyard as they went on their way to their next classes or to wherever they felt like being on a nice day like this.

One, however, moved against the student maelstrom, and eventually stopped beside the bench. He was short and rather young-looking for university (perhaps even for high school), but he certainly wasn't the only one, so no one found it out of the ordinary. The blue-and-yellow plaid pants were more fitting for a private high school rather than an open university such as this, but somehow they only lent their young wearer a bit more age. His flaxen hooded jacket hugged his slim figure, one hand in his pocket and the other lightly holding the strap of his expensive messenger bag.

"Sebastian."

A fleeting glimmer of crimson showed just above the sunglasses as the tall man looked upwards at the boy, and the faint smirk on his lips deepened into a full smile. As if reluctant to tear his eyes away, he hesitated for a couple of seconds before looking back down at his watch. The short hand lingered over the day display at the top, pointing out the RI in Friday, and the long one settled at X. Right on time.

"Young master," came the dark voice in response, masculine but not overly deep, and clear-ringing like a crystal bell. A strange thing to call someone, especially in this day and age, but it sounded so natural coming from that mouth.

Sebastian, as the boy called him, stood up, a full foot and some taller than his plaid-sporting companion. He was taller than most of the students, including the taller boys, but he looked at ease in his skin, casually taking the messenger bag from the shorter male beside him and slinging it over his shoulder as if it were his own.

They began to walk, leaving the corridor in favor of the courtyard. Birds jetted past them in flirtatious pairs, flying from tree to tree. The breeze was mild, cool enough to counteract the warm rays of the spring sun. They walked close enough together as an obvious sign they were acquainted, but just enough apart to show a puzzlingly professional distance. All either had to do was raise a hand and gently touch the other's to close that gap. But the young boy had his hands shoved down his front pockets as he walked, and Sebastian's hands were perfectly neat at his sides, the messenger bag that was too short for his height hanging awkwardly behind him.

"This hurts my eye," the boy said, blinking severely and rubbing small fingers at each outer corner of his eyes. Under his fringe of gray-blue hair, his commanding eyes were two different shades: the left was a clear, unadulterated shade of blue, while the right was a curious and artificial blue—a clear indication of a contact lens that was trying to emulate the shade of his natural left iris. Beneath that false blue lay the scar of a long-dead contract.

"Would you rather wear the patch, my lord?" Sebastian asked, glancing down at the shorter boy.

"No," the boy answered quickly. "And I told you not to call me that in public. It's weird."

"It's inappropriate to call you Ciel, however, isn't it?"

The boy, Ciel, turned his mismatched eyes sideways and stared at the hedges as they passed under his sight. It wasn't inappropriate, not in this era and context, when everyone, regardless of status, seemed so at ease when it came to given names. Even some of Ciel's instructors preferred to be called by their given names; it was always just a little odd compared to the time in which he'd been raised, so many years ago.

But he would never admit that he rather liked how his name sounded coming from his servant's smirking lips. It was refreshing and different, a subtle but electrifying change in their distant and formerly contracted relationship.

"Not in public," Ciel repeated tentatively. "It's all right to use my name then. Calling me 'lord' only draws attention."

Sebastian looked off at the buildings on the horizon, hugged by shady trees and painted rich colors by the sun, though the dark filter of his sunglasses muted the brilliant clay reds and ivory whites. Times had indeed changed since they had met. From force of time alone, Ciel was no longer the noble he once was.

He had certainly not lost any of that noble air. His posture was straight, held confidently despite his small stature, and he walked smoothly, as if he'd been trained to float. He would never lose his blue-blooded heart, no matter what his title was… or wasn't. He was no longer an earl to the rest of the world. He was just Ciel Phantomhive, and nothing more.

Sebastian, however, could think of him as nothing else. He would always be the stubborn young earl, cunning and too old for his child's body. The air about his century-old soul was definitely mature enough to fool every university student around them into thinking he was their genuine peer.

"I see," Sebastian replied, nodding. "Then, Ciel, where would you like to eat lunch today?"

"Let's just go home, Sebastian," Ciel answered tiredly, adding in a yawn for effect. After a four hour block of boring lectures, all Ciel wanted now was to relax.

All Sebastian wanted was to reply the way he always did, with those three simple words. But they stayed locked in his mouth, thanks to Ciel's request not to speak them. He merely nodded again and led the way through the campus to the black luxury sedan parked and waiting for them. He opened the passenger door for Ciel, who got in and promptly reclined in the leather seat, closing his eyes in mental exhaustion. Sebastian slipped the messenger bag off and placed it in the backseat before moving around the impeccably clean car and into the driver's seat.

Being who he was, driving came simply to him. Even if they had changed drastically from their rough ancestors, Sebastian had no problems with cars. He backed out of the parking space smoothly, and they were on their way to the townhouse they called home in this foreign city.

The sights were a hurried blur past the tinted windows: traffic-clogged motorways and streets, pedestrians in every direction, buildings more plentiful than grass and trees. It never ceased to be a novelty to the pair. Even sleepy Ciel opened his eyes, looking this way and that out the window at the diverse people and colorful businesses along the street that led to their neighborhood. Bookstores and clothing boutiques the size of warehouses tempted customers inside, selling items that Ciel, who was used to more luxurious commodities, wanted for himself sometimes. A white streak in the sky caught his attention, and he marveled up at the airplane flying overhead, nearing its landing in the city's international airport only a ten-minute drive away.

"It's so different, isn't it?" Ciel said suddenly, his voice almost childish and vulnerable in the silent, enclosed space.

Once upon a time, in a more familiar era, in a more familiar world, Ciel's soul had belonged to Sebastian. Sebastian had taken that promised soul, and Ciel belonged to him now forever. Even Ciel could never predict he'd still be here, body still strong and fresh, and his soul… well, that was no longer his.

"Everything changes," Sebastian said, "in time."

Ciel only replied with a hum, closing his eyes once more to the odd world around them.

In a few minutes, the two were out of the car and walking to the front door of their Mediterranean-styled townhouse, three stories tall and attached to an identical pair next door. The sun lit its textured stucco walls a charming umber, inviting them towards the rust-colored door. Sebastian produced keys from seemingly nowhere and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Ciel in first.

By the time the door closed again, Ciel had flopped down ungracefully on the nearby sofa. Sebastian perked a gentle smile and set the keys down atop the small square table beside the door. Finally, shrouded in privacy, with the wooden shutter blinds turned down to a close, did he take the sunglasses off. His intense merlot eyes were free, and though he sometimes opted for contact lenses like Ciel did, he didn't like them. Sebastian put the sunglasses down next to the keys and walked towards the couches situated in the living room, smoothing down his neat black waistcoat as he went.

He sat down in the coffee-colored armchair closest to the couch Ciel was sprawled out on, quietly observing the boy as he relaxed. Mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of that chest, Sebastian relaxed as well, allowing himself for once to be a little less stiffly formal than usual. Somewhere outside the house, a siren blared, but none of it reached Sebastian's ears. Only one sound was worth focusing on, and it didn't take very long to hear it once more.

"Sebastian?"

"Young master."

"I'm going to nap. Stay with me."

Sebastian smiled, closing his thickly lashed eyes for a second before settling them on Ciel. His lips parted, and without hesitation, he replied.

"Yes, my lord."