He Is & He Was

Part 1: Unusual Behaviour

"You tricked us, you lied to us!"
I watched, almost too blankly to be a human, but it was the expression I knew best and so it remained.
The police officers dressed in black held tightly onto the wriggling arms of the new criminals which I had presumed to be guilty of the foul play in the rich areas of London.
I didn't feel interested to hear their side of the story as to why they killed such innocent beings for such useless mementos, or how they even managed to run through the fingers of Scotland Yard when it was obvious by their marked skins that they were apart of the thieving community -- their tattoos, blackened twists and lines on their cheeks and foreheads so not even they could forgot what they were.
They pretended to be like me: masters of unheard of manors and companies, slowly trying to take my businesses away from me with bland comments about wealthy rewards.
Fortunately for me, Sebastian identified their markings, when they wiped away their makeup for their long sleeps and traced them back to the thieves that lived in the browned sewers... to be honest though, the smell of their ruined clothes could of gave that away to even someone as thick as Finny.
"You won't get rid of us this easily. We will ruin you! You and that Butler!" Before I could hear more of their uninteresting screams, the officers threw them in the back of the carriage which resembled more of a cage when compared to my plush one around the back of the manor, hidden within the stables with the horses.
I gave the police officers a vague nod from my studies window as they began to disappear from my front garden, their dozen horses clipping up my grass and leaving remains that I will speak of until someone cleaned it up but for now I was silent.
I was grateful that this was vague mission over and will be forgotten about until I was reminded once more by the Queen herself in her next letter. I didn't mind though, as long as she was happy and proud of her kingdom: so was I. Or I pretend to be.
Sebastian shadowed me from behind, watching the carriage eagerly as if he had forgotten something within it but knew it was too late to run after it. He had been peculiar all through the case. Much more stranger than he already behaved.
He was more like an animal than a human, reminding me of what he was... which was funny. He was so perfect and hid so well within the people around him, that I sometimes forgot he was a monster dressed in black, but then it only made me question: why was I only just noticing this now? Why didn't he always behave like the creature he was?
Maybe if I wasn't so stubborn, this story would of never had to be written, this chapter would never had been thought of and Sebastian would still be Sebastian. We would be normal and you wouldn't known about this.
We would be as normal as we could and everyday would be just like the other, it would be peaceful and I would be more content than I had been for a long time as I had him beside me.
But this wasn't that plot, this was the one where I chose to ignore a demons order for the first time, where I chose to ruin what we had created over the years that we were enslaved to one another.
One simple mistake could change a persons life forever. No matter how small or big that mistake was. It can break someone in half.
"I must clean out their room," He sighed, "The smell is most foul." He hummed.
I glanced up at him, our eyes catching one another awkwardly like a fly getting out of a spiders web at the last minute, "I can't smell anything." I resumed.
He paused for a minute before walking away as if I too began to smell like the sewers, "It is most unpleasant." He replied.
I didn't really understand Sebastian, or any demons for that matter.
They were like animals but in humanoid postures... they fought like cats as Sebastian explained, the noises a demon made during a combat with another demon was quite loud and terrifying to hear. The screams of foxes and squeals of burning Sheep were the only two descriptions he knew -- how he knew how burning sheep sounded like, I will never know.
Demon eyes never belonged to themselves as their true identities had vanished just like their sight of what was right or wrong in this world. Not like humans knew that either. Sometimes I believed we were worse than the creatures in Hell and I'm sure I was probably right on a certain extent.
I wondered if Sebastian had the same organs as me or if he had ones that we shall never know about, not even the simple names or what they do. Did he have a stomach? How did souls taste?
I hadn't been so invested into Sebastian until I found the photos and journals, that my father had hidden from everyone in his mini throne... at first I didn't want to read them or even touch them, fearful that I would ruin the fingertips that father had left on them, unsure if I even wanted to see who my father was outside of the pleasant memories that grew fuzzy as I grew older. Of course I wasn't sure if it was Sebastian or not in those photos but it seemed too ironic that both me and my father would have contracts with entirely different demons. I didn't know how the demon community worked with their clients if I didn't count my knowledge of Sebastian's work with me, so who knows? Maybe demons can only have one member of one family, or Sebastian just liked the taste of my families souls.
Does that mean he killed my father?
I gritted my teeth as I didn't want to think of that. I didn't want to know and I didn't want to care, but it was eating me.
I rested myself within my green office chair, the leather cold as it touched the back of my bare knees; my feet still dangling as they didn't touch the ground just yet. It was the only remembrance I got that I was still a child.
The draw resting above my legs came out and greeted me with the memoirs I had stolen from the secret compartment father devilishly hid from me and probably even Mother. I had slowly grown obsessive with not reading the writing on the back of the photos but in fact, just staring at it and following its blackened swirls with my finger, hoping one part would be wet and remind me that father had just left this to dry. Only dust stained my fingers. Disappointment suckling at me even when I had accepted my parents loss.
The photos were shocking to me when I first found them. The man that I thought was Sebastian wore the clothes of women but the feminism was tarnished by the sudden tints of male style. Those unusual model photos looked professionally taken while the blurred images that I imagined father or the nameless boy took, were shaky and tacky as they both wore suits or school uniforms that hid their personalities. Maybe the boy was famous for this... cross dressing. They did their job after all as I constantly wanted to stare at them; intrigued and bothered by the amount of minor details I didn't catch the last time I looked at them.
It wasn't unusual for me to see a man in makeup as many wore it, but this boys was colourful and bold like a woman's who worked at a brothel.
There was one I liked the most out of all of them.
It was only of the shoulders and face... it was pale and untouched by the blemishes you got from God, bad men and puberty. His hair was pulled back into a see-through swimming cap that was tapped to the skin in front of his ears and just the rims of his temples, keeping his hair slicked back onto his skull in a greasy style.
His lips were of the colour of my eyes, a turquoise blue with a darkening rim of night time, which narrowed the sharpness of the curves of his lips. His eyes were closed but were clothed with the smoky dark colour of silver and black, the odd sprinkle of glitter shone from where the camera flash must of hit them. He had overly expressed flicks on the edges of his large eyelashes, another colour of icy blue dusting below the cat-flicks and right underneath his waterline but in a much duller way... giving the illusion that it was fading and disappearing into his hidden eyes.
His shoulders were bare along with what I could see of his chest although a few odd scars had tattooed themselves onto his pure skin.
I think this one was my favourite because he was expressionless. He bowed his head in a tilted way as if he was awaiting for whoever saw him to make a comment of how he blurred the lines between stereotypes. He seemed to just be saying: this is me and I'm ready to hear your hate.
He looked vulnerable to me.
I looked on the back in how to find more answers but the only writing I could find was in another language which I didn't understand or knew even existed; maybe it was a demons language.
I knew I couldn't keep looking at these photos as I could tell they were already gaining rips and fades from the sudden light exposer after years of neglection. I didn't want to put them back though, the weirdness I got when I saw the teenage face of my father was too hard to overwhelm with another feeling when everything else was boring to me. It felt like father had wanted me to find these. It felt like father was back and I was admiring his work or baby albums so I could embarrass him later on at the dinner table when we all arrived to eat.
The more I aged, the more I forgot who my parents were and even what they looked like after I took their photos down. It was bittersweet as I forgot about their tortured ending but also the way they raised me.
"Master?" A croaky voice beyond my door frightened me.
The photos scattered in places I couldn't make in time before Tanaka made his sudden visit, I swore underneath my breath as I collected the ones I could, in hope that Tanaka wouldn't even notice the vibrant photos of fathers hidden friend.
The door creaked and I only stared up at his shocked face to see me scavenging on the floor like a poor man trying to find gold, "Are you alright?" He smiled vaguely at me, "Do you want some help?" He knelt down.
"No! no it's okay, I don't need help," I tried to scrap them all towards me but he still managed to collect one, the one that I liked most.
The indestructible smile on his face; vanished. Giving me the sinking feeling of regret for not leaving the photos alone in the first place... he was not only a servant but was also the only family friend of the Phantomhive's who didn't despise us or wanted the fire to happen, so I suppose witnessing this was just as conflicting for him as it was for me.
"Do... Do you know who that is?" I asked as we only remained silent on the creaking oak floorboards, even the mice below us staring up through the holes in anticipation.
He handled the photo with such care that it looked like it was levitating between his shaking hands. Wrinkled with lessons.
"Where did you find this?" He asked me, rubbing the shininess of the nameless boys face.
"It was hidden in dads chair," I looked up into his face but his didn't look back, he was lost in a time that I didn't know about but yearned to learn, "Who is it Tanaka?" I repeated myself.
He looked down at me with a plain expression, "You have much to learn but today is not the day," he held the photo out to me, "Someone will get hurt if I speak of it without consent." I took the photo off of him, cautious in case I ripped it with the faintest touch.
"But I want you to tell me." I slowly grew aggressive.
He only shook his head at me, a silent but heavy laugh leaving his lips that were hidden in the grey mass of hair. I always told him to shave that off, that it was indecent and unhygienic if he was the one cooking but it was his only way to rebel against me and stay who he really was when he was no longer a servant.
"Another day," his hand lay on top of mine, the heat of his instantly warming me, "Don't lose these. These are priceless jewels that we can never replace." He said softly.
Before I could say anymore, he collected the rest of the photos in silence and gave them back to me in a gentle manner which he only used to approach me, as if I was made of a delicate glass that could be shattered by the smallest gush of wind. I hated that that was how he saw me: fragile.
"You better start talking soon." I sighed, taking his hand as he lifted me off my knees with him doing the same alongside me.
I liked to think he did that for his own sake due to how old he had become over the past years. He now needed me to support him rather than it being the other way around. But I also didn't like to think of him as an old man because it meant his time to go was coming closer with everyday.
"When the time comes my lord," he placed his bare hand on top of his heart, "And I have a feeling it will be sooner than I hope." His face suddenly grew grimace around the edges. Leaving me to drown in a pool of fear, excitement and confusion.
He left before his eyes grew dull again which only left me with more questions than when I began my obsession, Tanaka wasn't like that with me; ever. Why did he act so strangely?
Why didn't he answer me when I simply ordered him to, it wasn't that difficult to say a few minor sentences. He had no right to say no to his master.
I had an aching feeling that this was bigger than I had believed it was when I first found fathers hidden drawer, as if I had only found one small piece to a massive puzzle. A blue part of the sky which gave me no direction as to what the image could be.