Butterflies That Never Die

Because you love him. Because you hate him. It's sad, and it's beautiful. You're filthy, and you're lovely. You are sin, but you love.

Because it's deathly serious, but it's a joke.

Because it's fire-bleeding smoke and spitting sparks and wreaking destruction over a previously lovely green landscape, virgin and untouched-Then it's Hell, with the fire burning and beating a seductive tattoo against a smokey grey sky, which is filled with ashes and the deathly scent of humanity.

Because it's water-A cold, overwhelmingly simple mix of saltwater and other flavors; The grittiness of dusty sand and the stones that provide the steadiness of what it is-A smooth descent into death to be overflowing with it, A beautiful, tragic death-A sort of numb bliss that comes, providing a sea of colors when you die.

Because you love him.

Sebastian and Ciel's love could only be explained in so many words. It was complicated-Terrifying as well, but neither of them was one to turn down any challenge. It was twisted, and it grew thorns... Great, vicious thorns that scrabbled with agonizing slowness over their flesh, tearing greedily into them...Hurting...Hurting them.

And still...

There was no gentleness about this love. It bordered on obsession, on dependence. Of shared loneliness. Deception. They were malicious by nature, but they had to keep up perfection. So they rid their frustration on each other, smugly, subtly, quietly. Never the less, they were bound deeply by what they had done, what they had shared.

And they didn't mind.

Because he was a demon, he was an ominous presence, coaxing the sins out of others with a smile that could charm the dead, with a lovely voice enchanting the nasty virtues to stay calm and let the horrible sins of humanity out, with a greedily consuming hunger that would destroy you if you got close- A great burning feeling that was not unlike being frozen to death. Even so though... The water would be eventually become part of the air that the fire consumed greedily.
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Ciel dreamed of a dark blue world, where there was flowers everywhere and it was an everlasting twilight. Broken glass and chipped chess pieces were the ground he walked upon, and butterflies were everlasting in his twilight-lit world.

Humanity was far back behind him, baring it's impotence and desperate hopes and dreams to those who dared looking at it.

No light was given in his twilight world. No real darkness. Time apparently did not run here, simply existence and the breathing beat of his own humanity, trapped inside between the feathery brush of butterfly wings and broken glass. Harmonized insanity was the song and game, the beat and flow of their existence here...

Almost unwillingly, he extended a hand... A bright, shining white butterfly settled on it. Distantly, he remembered that butterflies liked to eat rotting bodies. He could crush it now. But he wouldn't, because it was his own choice, really. In twisted resemblance, he took after the butterfly in some ways. He could be crushed by Sebastian, if Sebastian broke his anesthetics and decided to devour his soul. But he wouldn't.

His life would be as fleeting as the flowers, as the butterflies.

But in his twilight wonder world, they would all never die-And live in a desperate fantasy, a quickly fading hope- a fleeting dream, but in this moment... They were immortalized...
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Perhaps it was ironic that they loved each other, but never dared to let up the relentlessly cruel game of mocking the other, of teasing, of standards and mental jabs. They were arrogant together, they were prideful, they worked in a seamless fashion together, they were condescending- But they were afraid, hopelessly, desperately afraid to fall for each other.
They didn't want to respect each other.

They didn't want to trust the other.

They certainly didn't want to love the other.

They were simply too scared to feel love, so they hurt the other instead. Yes... That would be ironic, wouldn't it? Star crossed lovers of the strangest sort... To think!
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If Sebastian to answer honestly of what he wanted from his master, he wouldn't be able to give you a straight answer.

He wanted to break Ciel, and he wanted to keep him locked up, very safe and hidden away from the sight of humanity. He wanted to put him on a shelf like a doll and forget about him, so that whatever was blooming in his unbeating heart could just die quietly and not spread like a cancerous tumor. He wanted to tear his master to pieces, and he just wanted to love him and cherish him, although it was against his nature.

He honestly didn't know, really.

This was why it was safer to obey his master's orders. Then it was easier to shut away his wants and quiet them with the promise that he was doing what Ciel wanted.

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But they understood each other to the point of pain. Perhaps it wasn't so strange that they fell in love with what they saw.
Birds of a feather flock together, or perhaps a kitten frolicked with the raven? Perhaps it didn't matter.

Sometimes Ciel would wake up in the middle of the night, gasping and wishing for the unattainable. Love was impossible for him, especially between the hunter and the prey. It was only a matter of time before the prey's time was up and he could not lead the hunter on a merry chase.

So he would take the poisoned apple... Knowing what was inside, he would eat it down to it's very core.

It was better this way, anyway. No one would ever know, and when he finally died... Perhaps he could be in his lonely wonder world, at least.

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It was a century after Ciel had died. Things had not changed in the island of the lost, except for a few things.

Sebastian cradled a doll, made of bits from his master's body from long ago. It was still, life-sized and perfect. A haunted expression was etched permanently now into the handsome face of the demon as he absently rocked the doll back and forth, a mocking parody of how he carried the real thing when it was still alive.

"Float onto the painted sky where we shall be unified as I slip inside... Where butterflies... Never die..."

Sebastian's smooth baritone sang in a crackling croon, aged from years of disuse and use, depending on the week or year.

Silence reigned for a while, then he spoke quietly.

"Ciel, the mansion is gone. A factory is built over it- London; our london is gone. Only landmarks remain... The world has changed, wars have come and went. But do you know what I see...?"

A beat of silence, and he continued. "I see a grand mansion, surrounded by a beautiful garden with grand trees and pathways. There is a blond idiot in the yard, with his straw hat and a weed killer that he forgot to fix again, needlessly killing the plants. I see a cook in the kitchen, impatient as he tries to cook some kind of edible food with a flamethrower. I see a clumsy maid who constantly breaks the dishes and polishes the rails with shoe polish. And I see a young master, sitting in his study and doing some boring paperwork. And I see his butler, bringing some cake or the other... And the Master's eyes light up in a sort of reluctant approval, while the butler tries to smother a surge of amusement.

They were happy together."

And he drew the cold doll of Ciel close, dry sobs racking his frame as he thought of a dream that could of been, that should've been, and most of all... It had been.

And he had found out, too late that he loved Ciel.

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Wasn't t beautiful? Wasn't it twisted, wasn't it painfully ironic?
Wasn't it such a lonely thing to have?