Ciel Phantomhive cried out as he awoke from a hot, choking nightmare.

It took him a moment to place his unfamiliar surroundings: he was in his shabby student flat. Today was his first day at Oxford.

He'd come out top in his exams and had always earned high marks in school—not to mention the grueling hours of practice he spent with his violin, a result of his aunt's stern expectations and his own competitive nature—but he couldn't help but feel a little in awe. Somehow, he'd never pictured himself here.

The soles of his expensive black loafers clacked against the floor of the music building, his footsteps echoing through the hallway and mingling with the quiet, discordant plucking of a handful of string instruments. Pushing through a set of double doors towards the source of the sounds, Ciel entered the wide orchestra room. Though class wasn't set to begin for another fifteen minutes, a good number of students were scattered throughout the room, each focusing on their own instrument as they warmed up or squeezed in a few extra minutes of sight-reading.

Since it was the first day of class, chairs had not yet been assigned. Ciel took a seat in the first row of the violin section, unpacking his treasured instrument from its plush case of deep blue velvet. Carefully, he ran his bow over the strings, shifting his hands through various fingerings. As he warmed up, more students began to trickle in. Ciel noticed that few violinists chose to sit in the front row; out of some misplaced sense of modesty, he assumed.

At five minutes to nine, a slim blonde boy sauntered in and flopped himself into the first chair, which had been nervously left empty. Despite the crisp September air, he wore daringly short shorts, topped with a white button-down and a plum-colored blazer. He crossed his long, white legs, bare from the hem of black shorts to the tops of tightly laced black boots, and extracted his violin from its scuffed case. As he made a show of shifting his instrument into position, he fixed his large, sky-blue eyes on Ciel. His full, pale-pink lips curved up in some faint amusement.

Ignoring the prickling sensation of eyes upon him, Ciel retrieved a notebook, a leather-bound planner, and a pen from his bag, settling the items on his lap. He stole a quick glance at the haughty blonde relaxing easily in the first chair, violin set carelessly at his crossed ankles. He had the end of a pen between his lips, chewing it viciously as he surveyed the room. Ciel was instantly both fascinated and repulsed by him.

The room fell quiet as the professor swept in from a single door at the rear of the room. He strode up the aisle, shoes tapping commandingly on the linoleum floor. He positioned himself behind a heavy wooden podium on the dais at the front of the room.

"Good morning. I am Sebastian Michaelis," the man said to the silent group of students. He held their attention completely; not a single student was checking their phone, whispering, or looking at a book held surreptitiously in a lap.

"I'd like to go over the syllabus before we sign up for auditions," he continued, pulling a neat stack of sheets from a cognac-colored satchel resting against the podium. He stepped down, passing the papers to the blonde boy in the first chair to be distributed around the room. Shortly, Ciel was passed a copy of the syllabus. He scanned it for what he considered to be the key points—grading scale, office hours, grade breakdown, and schedule. He listened idly, from the periphery of his senses, as the professor read through the document, while copying the important dates into his planner.

Ciel tried to listen for the next mind-numbing half hour as Professor Michaelis ran through the lengthy syllabus, but he couldn't resist the temptation to tune out. He scanned the room; while most of the students were making notes, or following along diplomatically, the blonde in first chair was unabashedly fiddling with his phone. He looked up, catching Ciel's eye, and smirked.

Ciel looked hastily away, re-focusing his gaze on the professor. He wore a smartly cut black suit, and a pair of wire-frame glasses hung on an old-fashioned silver chain. In stark contrast to these crisp, almost stuffy details, the man's raven hair hung in long, messy strands, and his nails were polished black. Curious, but then again, musicians tended to be nothing if not eccentric.

At long last, the syllabus ended, and Michaelis clapped his hands together. "Now then, sign-up for auditions. I have posted a schedule for each section on the bulletin board in my office; please sign up for a time as soon as you possibly can. Auditions will be held beginning tomorrow evening through next week, and results will be delivered three days after auditions close. Until then, we will be going through some brief history and theory."

The room erupted in shuffling, as the students shifted to take out notebooks and writing instruments. Diligently, Ciel flipped his crisp new notebook open to the first page, pressing the heavy tip of his pen against the blank paper. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the blonde in first chair hadn't moved at all; his legs were stretched out, still crossed at the ankle, cell phone resting easily in his lap. However, his eyes were trained on the professor, lips and brows quirked as if he'd heard an especially clever riddle.

For the next hour, Ciel took notes at random in his close, slanted cursive. He regretted taking a seat at the front of the room; if he thought he could have gotten away with it, he could have slept through the lecture.

Finally, they were dismissed; the blonde who'd taken first chair made an odd production of packing his things, as though he were auditioning for something. He smiled solicitously at the professor, approaching him as the rest of the students filtered out.

He annoyed Ciel on principle.

That afternoon, his classes ended for the day, Ciel approached Professor Michaelis's second-floor office in the music building. The door lay open, revealing a small office cramped with books on the built-in shelves covering the back wall. A pair of wing-back armchairs, covered in a delicate cream print, faced the large desk that commanded the room. Behind it sat Professor Michaelis, absorbed in some paperwork or other.

"Good afternoon, professor," said Ciel, as he entered the room.

"Ah, hello...I'm afraid I don't know your name yet," the professor replied with a smile, pausing in his scribblings and laying aside his pen.

"Phantomhive," Ciel supplied.

"Phantomhive," Michaelis repeated. "I'll remember that." Chestnut-colored eyes appraised Ciel steadily from behind wire frames. Uncharacteristically, Ciel felt itchy and uncomfortable under the weight of that gaze, lasting only a beat. Something about the professor's face was strange and familiar, and the inability to place it was bothering him.

"Hi, Professor Michaelis!" a lemony voice sang out, breaking the tension of the moment as both student and professor looked toward the figure waltzing through the door. He stopped, seeing Ciel. "Oh, it's you!" the boy exclaimed. Ciel could only stand mute, eyebrows arched high as he appraised the blonde from the first chair.

"Afternoon, Trancy," replied Professor Michalis pleasantly. "So you've met Phantomhive here?"

The boy called Trancy didn't reply, instead leaning towards Ciel. "Hey, why do you wear that eyepatch? Can I see?" He'd actually extended a hand, reaching for the simple black patch, before Ciel could register what was happening. He stumbled backward, flustered, his back crinkling against the schedules neatly pinned to the bulletin board.

"Trancy? Signing up for tryouts?" prompted Michaelis mildly, still seated behind his desk.

Trancy turned away from Ciel, who peeled himself off the wall. He felt a prickle of irritation; how did Michaelis know this boy's name?

"Right you are, professor," Trancy said, with a sunny smile. He reached into his bag, rummaging for a moment, then extracted a teeth-marked pen. He brushed past Ciel, bumping him cheekily with a hip, before leaning forward with an arched back to sign his name on the schedule. Satisfied, he strolled lightly from the room, waving to the professor from the wide doorframe.

Supremely irritated, Ciel turned towards the schedule. "Alois Trancy" had been scrawled into the final time slot in large, spiky script. Ciel entered his own name into a time slot three days away. Alois Trancy's time in the first chair would be short-lived. Ciel nodded to Michaelis as he left the small, cozy office.

"Good luck," said the professor, fixing that inscrutable gaze on Ciel once more.

"Thank you, sir," replied Ciel, dipping his head politely.

Game on, he thought.

A heavy knot of nervousness rode in Ciel's chest as he walked to the music building for his audition. The morning had dawned cool, bright, and breezy, the sky a brilliant blue. Ciel's arm was tired from the weight of his violin case, but the walk helped him to release some of his nervous energy. He switched the case to his left hand, running his aching fingers through his hair, before he pushed open the door to the music building.

The orchestra room was empty and silent as Ciel crossed it, entering one of the small, soundproof rehearsal rooms tucked in the rear left corner of the room. He closed the door behind him, before straightening to acknowledge Michaelis. "Good morning, sir."

"Phantomhive," he said. A new and nameless kind of anxiety rose in the back of Ciel's throat as he unpacked his violin, purposely avoiding the professor's gaze. He straightened, and Michaelis handed him a sheet of music.

"Sight read this piece. You have six minutes."

The piece looked terribly complicated, and Ciel's heart sunk. He gazed at the sheet of music for a solid thirty seconds before hardening his resolve and lifting his instrument into position. He began to read the notes, humming softly to himself to get a sense of the piece. Tentatively, he began to pick the notes out on his violin strings. A shaky melody began to form, and Ciel ran through the music again more smoothly.

"Time," Michaelis said quietly, eyes fixed not on the old-fashioned watch held in his right hand, but on Ciel.

A steely blue eye flicked up at the pronouncement. Ciel shifted slightly, strengthening his posture, before touching bow to strings. Briefly, he closed his eyes, riding the melody, trying to relax into the dipping and swelling of sound.

As the last note faded out, Ciel's eye bore steadily into Michaelis's. They stood in rich silence, a tingly and not altogether unpleasant sensation rising in the back of Ciel's scalp.

"Very good, " Michaelis finally murmured, turning his gaze down to the stand before him, which bore a thick folder, splayed open and spilling out papers.

Ciel smirked, his shoulders beginning to untie the knots they'd formed over the past three days. He packed his violin with aching fingers, his nerves singing with relief. "Thank you, sir," he said, nodding formally before exiting the rehearsal room.

Beat that, Alois Trancy.

A wave of satisfaction hit Ciel as he quickly scanned the sheet of paper taped to the left of the double doors leading to the orchestra room.

Violin

1. C. Phantomhive

2. A. Trancy

3. N. Watson

...

Ciel stopped reading. Even greater than the joy of earning first chair was the joy of beating out his smug blonde classmate. Heart fluttering, he pushed open the double doors and sat in his throne, the first chair. His fingers itched to begin playing; he'd had enough of history and theory.

As had become routine, Michaelis swept in through the back door, leaving a wave of silence in his wake.

"Good morning," he said, settling gracefully behind the podium. "Today, we're going to begin our first piece." Black-nailed hands withdrew a thick stack of pamphlets from his satchel before Michaelis stepped down and handed the booklets to Ciel.

Irresistibly, Ciel's eye flicked up to Professor Michaelis as he accepted the music sheets. He bit down firmly on his lower lip as auburn eyes met his over wire frames. He shifted his gaze to the blonde next to him, noting with joy Trancy's narrowed eyes, as he passed down the stack of leaflets.

Ciel's heart fluttered—the piece was Ralph Vaughn William's "Five Variants on Dives and Lazarus." A faint smile crept onto his face as he placed the music onto his stand, a thin film of memory blurring the pages.

"Take the next half hour to sight read. Work with the people around you; I will be going section to section."

Ciel pulled his violin into position, running through the notes with ease. His eyes became slightly unfocused as he allowed the emotion of the piece to flow through him. A sharp fingertip in his ribcage pulled him roughly from his haze. Alois Trancy's face was leaning toward his own.

"You already know this piece, don't you?" the blonde said, his voice low and nearly sensual.

Ciel glared heavily. "Do you need help, or what?"

Trancy slid his bow sharply across his strings in response, eyelids lowering flirtatiously.

"Yes, I know it," Ciel said irritably, before returning his eye to the music before him. Rich with longing, the notes tore themselves from his fingertips, and his eyes slid shut.

As Ciel came back into the world, he found Professor Michaelis before him. "Lovely," he said softly, before he turned to Trancy and nodded once, wordlessly. Something akin to hunger clouded his eyes, almost too large for their delicate frame, as he watched Michaelis wind his way through the section. At last, he turned toward the music on his stand, playing the notes with careless skill, a pouty frown settling into the corners of his mouth.

Ciel lifted his brows aristocratically as he finished the piece. Trancy played well, but he couldn't convey the emotion of the music; in short, a second chair to the core. Trancy turned, catching Ciel's eye and smirking. "What, see something you like?"

Ciel's nose crinkled lightly with distaste. He shook his head and turned toward his own music once more as Trancy dropped a mirthful wink towards him. Let him play like a second chair, he thought. It's not my problem to help him.

Ciel settled into his chair, elegantly holding himself upright and readjusting his violin. He turned to a particularly tricky section, playing through it again to smooth out any roughness. As Ciel began the section again, Michaelis loudly tapped the top of the podium with a slender black baton. The din of discordant instruments died down instantly, and those who'd spread out returned to their seats. All eyes turned toward the front of the room.

"Now, I'll be hearing from each section. Violins first, if you please." Michaelis lifted his hands elegantly, preparing to conduct. Everyone lifted their instruments into position, and they began to play. Ciel sank into the music, the orchestra room feeling blurry and far away.

As the last notes faded, Ciel's eye focused on the professor; blood rushed to his cheeks as he realized that Michaelis was looking back at him steadily, lips softly curved up. Ciel quickly shifted his gaze down to the floor. Trancy watched with a malicious smirk.

"Hot for teacher, are we?" Trancy whispered, his breath close and tickly in Ciel's ear. He squirmed away, glaring.

"Shut up."

He resumed his study of the floor through Michaelis's notes. He was embarrassed and surprised by the unexpected eye contact, that was all. At last, he moved on to the violas, and Ciel felt safe enough to look up again. Trancy had sprawled into a relaxed slouch, attention on the phone he'd pulled out as soon as Michaelis moved on to the next section. Ciel shifted his gaze back to Michaelis, studying him.

He was undeniably good-looking; Ciel was comfortable enough admitting that. More captivating, however, was the easy grace of his movements and the intensity of his unreadable gaze. Under its weight, Ciel felt a rare sense of self-consciousness that made him want to impress this man.

As Michaelis went through the next three sections, Ciel found his thoughts wandering and he began to fidget in the uncomfortable chair. Trancy glared and elbowed him sharply.

"Stop squirming, dimwit," he hissed.

Ciel made a sour face, pulling himself up straighter before settling down. Trancy returned to his phone. From his slightly higher vantage point, Ciel surreptitiously cast his glance down to the screen to see what had Trancy so fascinated. He had to hold back a snort; it looked like he was on a dating website or something of the sort.

Ciel pressed his lips together with repressed mirth and looked away. He returned to watching Professor Michaelis, giving his notes to the bass section; he paid no mind to Trancy's bold inattention or Ciel's restlessness, instead speaking in a velvety voice that radiated quiet authority. At last, he finished.

"That will be all for today," he said, turning his attention to a stack of papers on the podium as the class began to rise, murmuring and packing bags.

Ciel carefully packed his violin and reached for his bag. Accidentally grabbing the bottom, he dumped its contents onto the floor. He groaned and swore as books, papers, pens, an empty thermos, and sweets wrappers slid away on the linoleum. Ciel sank to his hands and knees, collecting his things and feeling faintly embarrassed at the amount of rubbish he'd been carrying. As he reached for his history book, a shiny black boot stepped down on it.

Ciel looked up to its owner. Trancy smiled with cruel glee, then flicked his foot to send the book spinning toward the dais at the front of the room.

"Let me get that," he said, prancing over to the book. He bent over slowly, flirtatiously, arse towards Michaelis. The man ignored him, however, making notes on the podium. Trancy straightened, sauntering back towards Ciel and tossing the book at him roughly before scooping up his own things and sweeping out of the room. Apparently, he was unsatisfied with the results of his little manoeuver.

Ciel caught it clumsily, supremely annoyed, before he tucked it in his bag. He attempted to tidy it, sorting and straightening the loose papers and setting aside the bits of rubbish to toss out as he left the room. Finishing his task, Ciel straightened and collected his bag and violin case, turning to leave the now-empty room.

"Phantomhive."

Ciel started; he hadn't realized Michaelis was still in the room. He spun around to face his professor. "Sir?"

"You almost forgot your book," he said, holding up Ciel's paperback copy of Demons.

Ciel could have sworn he'd put it back in his bag, but he must have forgotten it under a chair. "Thank you, sir," he said, reaching to accept it. As their hands met on the book, Michaelis softly trailed his index finger along Ciel's.

A wave of adrenaline crashed through him, and he pulled away, heart thudding. He felt as though his whole body was burning, set aflame by that tiny point of contact. His cheeks burned uncontrollably. He stared at Michaelis, single lapis eye wide. The professor met his gaze steadily with an unreadable smile.

Ciel stood in stunned silence for a frozen moment, clutching the book to his fluttering chest. Unable to summon words, he gave Michaelis a nod and fled the room. Flickering mahogany eyes followed him.

A/N:

i. I know the whole "touching hands while handing over an object" bit is rather played out, but I liked the gesture of deliberately brushing an index finger along another persons. There's a scene in Silence of the Lambs where Hannibal Lecter does this through the bars of his cell while handing over a case file to FBI student Clarice Starling. I always found this moment extremely striking; such deliberate, gentle contact from someone so inherently frightening gives me chills. I wanted to capture a little bit of that kind of dynamic between Ciel and Sebastian.

ii. Ciel is reading Dostoyevsky's Demons. I get the impression that he would be able to keep up with the lengthy cast of characters (and their exhausting Russian names!) and the intricate, political details, while also feeling somewhat contemptuous and superior of their struggles and feelings. And, of course, I couldn't resist the title.