Into The Flames (Sebastian x Reader)

What Remains Unsaid

The only sound in the silent, dark corridor was the reverberation of the rain dripping off of my soaking clothes and hitting the tile beneath my feet. The sound, which shouldn't have echoed in the least, was eerily loud in the silence that surrounded us.

The man that had brought me here, I had begun calling him "The Suit" in my head, hadn't uttered another word since we had left the alleyway behind and was just as stoic as he opened the large oaken door for me, pushing inward to reveal a dimly lit study beyond.

He stood aside for me to enter, one arm held primly behind his back, the other with gloved fingers splayed against the wood of the door as he held it wide open, waiting for me to walk ahead of him.

As I moved to access the room, The Suit finally spoke once again, his voice subdued and respectful as he addressed the study before us. "Young Lord, I have shown your guest here just as you have asked."

Without looking at who sat behind the large desk in the center of the cavernous room, I walked in, my steps leaving small puddles of water across the floor, as I turned slowly, taking in the grandeur of the decor around me.

I whistled slightly under my breath as I took in the tall, finely polished shelves, piled high with books up to the ceiling, the brass and gold and silver of the candlesticks and pitchers and frames of portraits winking at me in the candlelight. "Well. You certainly have a nice place here."

I heard The Suit click the door shut quietly behind me, and I finally drew my gaze to the desk that stood before me, taking up much of the floorspace of the study, obviously the main attraction of this room. And then, naturally, my eyes traveled to the person who sat behind it. The other curious "attraction" of the room.

I scoffed loudly as my eyes fell on this "Young Lord," the supposed master of this house, and the man who stood wordlessly behind me. I turned my incredulous gaze to The Suit. "Is this a damn joke? He's just a kid!"

The kid behind the desk shot to his feet, drawing my attention back to him, as he knocked several chess pieces to the floor in his haste to stand. His one eye, I noticed now that the other was covered by a black eye patch hidden beneath the hair that hung over his forehead, flashed angrily in the light from the candles. "A kid? Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

When I continued to hold his gaze, my lips pressed into a firm line, not rising to his jibe, he huffed in frustration and sat down again, hotly folding his arms across his chest as The Suit came to stand behind his chair. "I'm Lord Ciel Phantomhive, Head of the House of Phantomhive." His words came out through clenched teeth, and the statement was final and resolute, as if that one sentence should clear up all my incredulity.

I stared at him blankly for another brief moment and then raised a shoulder in half a shrug, disinterest clearly showing on my face as I said in a bored tone, "And? Should I know who that is?"

Fury flashed across his good eye again, but only briefly, before he seemed to calm himself and when he responded, his voice fairly masked his anger as he quipped back, "You mean to say that you've never heard of me? The Queen's personal guard dog?"

I stepped toward his desk and dropped into one of the chairs before it, the velvet growing damp from my soaked clothes almost instantly, as I leaned back and steepled my fingers, an eyebrow raised as I addressed the kid sitting so haughtily before me. "Let me ask you something, Young Lord." A sneer flashed across my lips as sarcasm dripped from the words of his title. "Do I seem to be the type of person that frequents affluent circles to you?"

My eyes flicked up to the face of The Suit who stood behind the chair, watching our exchange with crimson eyes, but his expression belied nothing, he was as unreadable as ever.

"Tsk." I drew my attention back to the kid in front of me as he scoffed under his breath, the corners of his mouth drawing down in an expression of displeasure. "I don't have time for shit talking. Fine. You've never heard of me." He rolled the figure of the king from the chess set in front of him between his fingers, almost without thinking, as he continued, his voice holding a hard edge, "The only thing you need to know is, I have heard of you."

Shit. This was bad. So the little bastard and his loyal lapdog did know something.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, kid. What exactly are you referring to?" I kept the shakiness, the sudden clench of cold fear, out of my voice as I forced myself to stay relaxed into the cushions of the chair, my tone light. I raised an eyebrow and forced a chuckle out from between my teeth. "If you're talking about my habit of taking things that aren't mine..." I held up a gloved hand, revealing the queen figurine nestled in my palm, and began to flick it deftly between my fingers, holding his gaze, as my mouth curved into a smirk. "Then yes, you've probably heard of me. Everyone who's anyone has. That doesn't make you special."

I tossed the queen over the desk to him, our gazes locked, and he caught the chess piece in clenched fist, his eyes never leaving mine as he said cooly, "You know very clearly that that's not what I'm referencing."

"Oh?" I feigned innocence once again, but I could feel my heart starting to patter in my chest. Damn them. How had they found out?

He sat back in his chair, placing the king and queen pieces down on the desk in front of him, and was silent for a moment, as he fiddled with the figurines. The silence was electric, I could feel the tension creeping up with each second that passed.

Finally, he spoke, and his single blue eye blazed, piercing me just as swiftly and dangerously as each word that fell unforgivingly from his lips.

"I know about the burning."