As You Wish

You

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You were livid. "Don't play stupid with me. You know what happened."

"No." Sebastian ran his hands through his hair. You began to notice he did that whenever he was impatient. "I don't. I mean it."

You wanted to laugh again. How dare he. He has to have remembered what he did, or what he almost did. "You're lying!"

"I am not!" You folded your arms across your chest, huffing, still unconvinced as you sat across from him. After the worst of your wrath subsided, you agreed to act civilised. You did want to continue your discussion. As much as you hated admitting it, talking about your beliefs, about religion as a whole, captivated you, and in earnest, you enjoyed speaking to others about its place in the world. "Why won't you listen? I haven't the slightest recollection of ever engaging with you before the day my master summoned you here. I highly doubt someone as smart as I am would forget being all but cast out! How exactly did that happen, {Y/N}?" He seemed sincere, believable, but you knew better.

"A priest. An exorcist. He saved me, back in the East End, when I met you. It had to have been you. I can tell. You have the same dark, horrible energy about you, and your voice. I've heard it before." You didn't look at him as you continued, so you weren't able to see his expression. "I remember hearing it when I saw that auction, and ever since I've been here, the feeling of you, of how cruel you were, how evil you still are hasn't gone away. I felt it before. I'm smart enough to know what I'm sensing. I'll tell you what. I'll ask you a question, then I'll answer yours, entirely, every detail explained. Does that sound like a deal?"

"Yes." You smirked, revelling in your perceived victory.

"Good." You faced him again, looking directly into the same eyes you'd seen on that fateful day, one which marked a turning point in your life, the magnitude of which you wouldn't come to understand until much much later. "Has anyone, even Ciel, truly seen what you really look like?"

He seemed genuinely surprised, or impressed. "No." The faintest trace of a grin crossed his lips. "No one alive that is."

"Except for me." You leaned forward. "I know what your true form is, and I'm still here, still breathing. God protected me."

"Technically a priest did, if you're correct in your recollection of the event." You rolled your eyes.

"He's still a part of the church. Therefore he's part of God's kingdom. Now, stop being so meticulous. I'm not done with my inquiry." You elaborated. "You don't have any sort of body entirely. You're disgusting, and the only part of you that's corporeal at all is some sickening version of legs, the human-most parts of which look like daggers on shoes. Black smoke shields the rest of whatever's above that. Am I correct?"

From the look on his face, you knew you were. "Before you say anything else, I know not all of you are so similar I couldn't tell you apart from another monster like you. No two living beings, humans, animals, angels, demons, nothing is made exactly the same way twice. Everything is unique. It's part of the beauty of the world, and a design only an omnipotent force could create."

He agreed, consenting, and you felt a twinge of remorse. Why? Did you honestly care at all if you hurt his feelings? He had none. "Yes. You are." He averted his gaze before turning back to you. "But I'm serious. I don't remember meeting you, or trying to harm you."

"I don't believe you."

"Did you ever consider the fact that you overreacted?" It didn't sound like a rhetorical retort, but a genuine question, one which merited consideration.

"Overreacted?" You replied with biting sarcasm. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Very." He wasn't giving up on this charade, was he? "If I can't remember trying to steal your soul or bring you down, or take something from you, then how much danger could you really have been in, or be in now? Perhaps I don't even want you at all."

You couldn't explain why those words hurt you so badly. "That seems unlikely." You said it to yourself, but he heard.

"Tell me this, since you still aren't properly answering me. Maybe you're lying for attention. Could that be possible? I think so! Why do you think you're so special? Simply because you're faithful, or whatever you'd call yourself, that means that everything and everyone has some inane desire to taint your purity? Don't you know how selfish and idiotic that is?" That sounded like a retort. "If I can't remember you, you must not have been that important. You don't matter. You never did. This recollection, this belief, my past attempt to destroy you, is not mutually impactful. You see meaning in something meaningless. You're just as nieve and foolish as your faith is. Don't you see that you're not even worth corrupting? You're nothing but a vain, ugly, weak, useless girl who means nothing to me. I don't desire your soul. I don't desire any part of you. So go ahead and hate me. I don't care any more than I care about you or your God."

You didn't turn away, but this time, you couldn't stop yourself from crying. Hot, searing teardrops flecked your cheeks, and before you could say anything else, you heard the sound of someone arriving at the manor.

"What?" Your conversation had been cut short, again. You didn't get to finish. You hadn't gotten him to confess! He'd just insulted you and that was not how you wanted to end this. "Who is that?"

Sebastian adjusted his tie, and rose from the table, turning once to look at you, still seated, left waiting, unsatisfied. "It appears our Young Lord has returned early."

He left without saying another word.