Name: Ciel Phantomhive
Eye Color: Cerulean
Hair Color: Navy blue-grey
Somasexual / Unidentified
Positive Weaknesses (like tickling or cuddling): Desserts/sweets
Fears: Affection, failure
How sickly they are: Somewhat/Very
How often do they hurt themself: Often
Relationship Status: Arranged engagement
He sighs. The mansion is ridiculously, noticeably silent. Not even an explosion of Bard’s or the dish clatter of the maid’s has managed to disrupt the eerie absence of sound. Quietness ensued since their parting, as though the manor’s ambiance died with his solemn demeanor. Resting a chin on an propped arm, Ciel stares numbly at the work before him, the thoughts of his other lover never ceasing to elude his mind.
Yet another rainy day. Within the confines of dreary the city, the Phantomhive townhouse echos with not but a sigh. A tigress lays beside her master as his fingers glide along the dark stripes webbed across stark white fur. Black-lined irises deter upward to her owner. She bellows softly.
“… … I know, Sumitra.” The prince replies, halting his caress atop her head. “I should not … —Can not … Why must I still miss him?”
His attention turns to the telephone for a moment. No. He doesn’t want to talk to you. He tells himself, trying to focus his attention back to his book. “…”
The Phantomhive earl holds a pen in his hand, blank documents readily sprawled on his desk, but he does not move. Falling further and further behind his work, the child is often scolded for his uncharacteristically lax work habits. However, a single glance at Sebastian would remind the boy of his place, motivating his limbs to persevere for another 1%; he had chosen this miserable life, after all, the sole purpose of escaping that human hell to take revenge on those who donned it—
Or so he convinces himself.
Still, to have hurt Soma as harshly as he did… a foreign guilt pulls at the heart strings, and the child heaves yet another heavy sigh, lazily signing another paper. Was he not the very source of his own heart break? I don’t miss him. I don’t miss him. I don’t miss him.
He sighs. The mansion is ridiculously, noticeably silent. Not even an explosion of Bard’s or the dish clatter of Maylene’s has disrupted the eerie absence of sound. Quietness ensued since their parting, as though the manor’s ambiance died with his solemn demeanor. Resting a chin on an propped arm, Ciel stares numbly at the work before him, the thoughts of his other lover never ceasing to elude his mind.
If you don’t get back w Soma I’m stealing ur fiance Ciel
“But that’s why I’m leaving him: to be with Elizabeth.” Lie.
“…” He eats the curry bun. He reads the note, and, begrudgingly, keeps it for himself.
He misses you too sob.
“We don’t speak anymore, that’s why.”
Why not? What the hell happened?
“I… told him I didn’t want to see him any more.”
“Nothing happened, per se, but… I realized that entertaining a relationship with him would only lead to an undesired out come.”
Why? Soma’s just as bad as I am about things like that.
“We don’t speak anymore, that’s why.”
/laughs at Ciel’s face
IT WAS YOU WASn’T IT
No, it wasn’t actually. You’re awfully quick to make assumptions, it might’ve been Soma for all you know.
“—… … No, the chances of that are slim to none.”
The sudden retch in Ciel’s voice left a twisting pain within Soma’s chest. The earl’s motionless composure continues to circumvent the prince into deeper frustration, foolishly beginning to succumb to his yearning more and more for just even a glance from his former lover.
He paces forward.
“Tch. I do not know, Ciel … If I remember right, you seem to have a habit of saying one thing and meaning the other.” The confidence of his tone drops as his memory of their intimacy resurfaces.
The little Phantomhive shifts in unease, the weight of the other’s supposedly expectant gaze dawning on him. He could feel Soma’s presence nearing his own as the sound of footsteps grow in volume, and he’s tempted to —but doesn’t— look back. Cobalt gaze is trained on the window now; any chance of reading the book was rendered null and void.
“Is that what you want, then? Some sort of hint that I don’t want you to go back to India?” As best he could, he removes any sense of emotion from his voice, determined to leave the other with a lack of a direct answer. “I told you to leave me be.”
A pity? That was all that he could make of it? The royal’s eyes narrow with distaste at the stone surfaced earl, ever unknowing what could possibly be coursing through his mind through his unwavering disposition.
“… No kidding. The second person I’ve ever felt love for and you abandon me just like she did. I should hate you… But I guess I’m just too stupid, huh?” He implies monotonously as he leans his back against the support of the wall. “… I should just return home so you can forget about me. Just think, Ciel. You’ll never have to see me again. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
Dryly, the earl listens to the prince’s frustrated ramble, granting his initial inquiry with further silence. Hollow was his expression, despite the tumbled mess of emotions that slowly haunted his being. —No, he can’t let himself succumb to his feelings.
In a pathetic attempt to read his book, the child makes an effort to tune out the Bengali boy. The sound of Soma’s broken voice, however, perseveres and manages to dissemble any means of concentration. “Why—” His voice hitches unintentionally, tone wavering, “Why are you asking me? You seem to already know the answer.” Seem being a key word.