Into These Waters of My Soul

He had been lying for hours with his eyes on the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come to him. After Sebastian accompanied Ciel to his room, he met up with the other Phantomhives. They shared their impressions: everyone liked the performance, and Miss Elizabeth wanted to see it again since they said that Irene was to sing in the capital that winter at a masquerade. Afterwards, they were repeating the same thing in different words for yet another half an hour, with plenty of emotions on the part of the women, especially Elizabeth. Sebastian told them that Ciel had decided to rest. Rachel said he was always like that. “He is a quiet boy and prefers books over people. But did he like it? Did he say anything? I should ask him tomorrow.” “He did,” answered Michaelis. “I think the choir was most to his liking.” As he said “to his liking,” Sebastian felt chills down his spine. Before his mind’s eye flashed the same waterish blueness, and the same heavenly host of cherubs caressed his ear. Gabriel said with a smile: “No wonder why. Our Ciel was in a choir too. The locals even called him Little Angel. Oh, do you remember him singing on Christmas?” The last words were meant for everyone except the author, who simply couldn’t remember what he had not seen, to his regret. “I’ll never forget those snow-white, fluffy wings and that halo — a figurine to hang on a Christmas tree. Ciel was extremely embarrassed to go like this, but guess what? It suited him all the more when he blushed! The poor thing didn’t seem to have a choice!” The twin burst into laughter — lightly and softly, as one could only laugh about the warmest of memories, oftentimes those of childhood — as he put a hand to his heart. “That’s why Lizzy and I had to talk him into going out from early in the morning.” Elizabeth took up the laughter. “That’s true! Do you remember,” in her emotions, the girl pulled her fiancé by the sleeve, “him trying to hide? The poor thing hid behind a column in the gallery, but he forgot that the wings were sticking out!” “It was one of those wings that we caught him by.” “And dragged him to fulfil his duty! “We lost the halo on the way.” “I ran back to look for it!” “A couple of moments before he had to go on stage, we put it back upon his crown.” “But it was worth it,” smiled the girl. Rachel was touched by the fond memories. “It is true. Oh, how wonderfully he was singing! It made a heart skip a beat. Isn’t it right, Vincent?” Vincent nodded as if saying, “Right,” and Rachel continued, speaking more to Sebastian this time. “It is strange, you know, but at those moments I couldn’t even believe that it was my son singing; it felt so much unearthly. If you, Sebastian, have heard it and seen it, you would immediately understand what I’m talking about!” Rachel laughed, trying to smooth out her own embarrassment that was caused by her impulse, and an impulse it was, sudden like a woman’s nature. Her small, fair face beamed. No matter how much Ciel had twisted his parents’ love for him deep down in his heart, they loved the second twin. No woman can fake the radiance of a mother’s love. It is colossal and overshadows all else. For a moment, Sebastian could see the resemblance between Rachel, Victoria, his mother, and every woman he had ever met. Love is a woman’s nature. Suddenly, Sebastian felt like he was part of the shadow of the demon that followed his heels. The power that was now shining in the woman discomforted him, and he winced with the whole of his being, like a beast from a cave would wince from a blinding bright light, yet he was curious to linger close. A ticklish wave passed through its black and greedy core, and the beast felt a quiet delight. The love that nature made beyond his reach due to the absence of a womb and the presence of a man’s destructive ego. The love that was never meant for the demon to grasp but which he couldn’t leave ignored. The pure and absolute radiance that could drown people in the springs of happiness and vanquish any force that was hostile. The love that knew no lies, no fears, no conventionalities. The love that accepted and gave; the love that was unconditional and perfect. Truly, a beautiful light… Ciel stood behind his brother and started to believe that he was blocking all the light. He simply had to step aside and stand apart from his twin. Isn’t it right? Such was Sebastian’s other thought. His shadow began to separate from him, and in the distance, the man saw the horned silhouette. This time, the demon was more shapeless and yet more perceptible. It wasn’t just a character created by an author, but something deeply experienced, so deeply that he had neither opportunity nor nerve to look into the dying embers in the core of the abyss. It was primaeval dread. The changing ether that came from the infernal valleys. The mere thought of really looking into those burning eyes and getting to know the monster better covered the man in a cold sweat, even though, until recently, he had had no fear of his presence. Exhaustion. Imagination gone wild. Will it pass? Get out of my head! The thought was thrown to his opponent before another crossed his mind, Perhaps I should have burnt the bloody novel. Nausea. They walked for a short time in the fresh air, then Gabriel, his mother, and his fiancée went to the restaurant downstairs (they had been invited by an old and most interesting woman from France), and Vincent and Sebastian decided to play a few rounds of cards. So, they had drunk a bit too much. Across from Sebastian sat a portly and sickening gentleman, whom the locals called among themselves Tabacco Factory — he smoked without respite and filled his lungs with smoke by taking deep inhales. The whites of his eyes were riper than a pomegranate, and the turfs of hair, rusty from tobacco, stuck out from his red, rhinoceros-like nostrils. One could wager that inside his skull, a legion of devils made themselves a burning crater. And that same Tabacco Factory beat Sebastian four times in a row. “You are losing ground,” Vincent said to his friend. “I don’t recognise you. It’s usually Sebastian who keeps everyone in line. Ah, where is that Sebastian? Is he getting old?” Sebastian smirked. He cared about Vincent’s words no more than he cared about the game. He couldn’t even understand what he was doing there. It seemed as if he had no wish to return to his room, and so he held some cards with the last of his strength while someone with a tickle of a gambler under their spleen was waiting for him to make his move. Looks like a play in a cheap theatre, he thought with horror. And with a greater horror still, he realised that he used to believe it a natural thing, this game of cards, and now it was a pointless act — moving pieces of paper… for what? For pleasure? Beg pardon, what pleasure was there? Tabacco Factory grinned with delight. “Are you making your move, monsieur? We are waiting for you.” Ah, right. Take this. Lost again… What did it matter? Michaelis remembered that, at that very moment, Ciel was probably reading his wretched book. Lying in his bed and moving his eyes over the lines that held no meaning anymore. Suddenly, Sebastian felt ashamed of his creation. It wasn’t meant for Ciel’s eyes. But then again, what did it matter? Yes, it did. He wished that he could dive into dark waters — with his head, with his thoughts, with his soul. Into blue waters. It was suffocating. It had been so for quite a while. For ten years’ time, or maybe longer. Sweat had formed on his brow. The instinct of self-preservation still kept him away from the abyss. The water was probably icy, and his body would sink in an instant. He would have no time to breathe and realise his own demise. Let it be so. Dark… …dark waters… Victoria would have said that he had forgotten about his soul. “You haven’t been to church for a long time.” He only went there for her own sake if truth be told. Victoria’s eyes were the colour of dried rosemary springs, but the angel’s eyes were the colour of water, the colour of dark skies. He was so tired… In the end, he seemed to express everything in his book that he wanted and could. But now it occurred to him that he hadn’t written enough about someone’s blue eyes. When the devil saw the child of the celestial ether, did he dare to pay little attention to them? That was the only beauty worthy of praise. A welcome bed where every dark and light longed to lie in the end. To touch and to drown. At the end of the path. Of all paths. Of all lives. Sebastian seemed to have lost his mind. More than that, he no longer felt anything save for human exhaustion and a diabolical thirst for something… which was so close, but which he could neither describe with words nor form into clear feelings. “So are you playing?” “Yes, yes.” To hell with you. To bloody hell! And now beside him stands the sickening, familiar image. Sharp fangs instead of teeth and narrow, viperous pupils. Ruby orbs. Clots of lava that dance in their spheres. The otherworldly stranger begins to move his own hand… This is the power he should have trusted from the very beginning, or so his intuition tells him. It is the only thing that will end any suffering. And aren’t you wholly composed of this power? whispers the voice outside his head. Whispers to him like to his own kin. I am a man. I am only a man, mutters the author’s mind. From that moment on, Sebastian had luck on his side. He beat each of his opponents seven times in a row. The game changed dramatically. In the eighth round, Tobacco Factory bet fifty thousand and lost. Sebastian made a killing. Fearful of being suspected of cheating, Vincent called it a day. “Why would we need any problems on holidays?” They were both tired. It was time to retire. Sebastian could barely stand on his feet, so Vincent saw him to his cabin. While Vincent was unlocking the door, Sebastian muttered something like, “You have a great wife and great sons.” “You’ll have ones of your own if you want to.” “Such angels? No, such angels are only born to special people. They rarely come to this world. You need to take care of them, Vincent.” “You are drunk. The word ‘angels’ has a horrible sound to it when it comes from your lips. I suspect that Gabriel took his description too far if you’ve remembered it so vividly.” Sebastian grabbed hold of Vincent’s lapels. “Promise me that you will never let anything happen to Ciel.” Vincent decided that the talk of Ciel was born of alcohol and the recent story, and Sebastian just wanted to hear him say: “Of course, I will never let anything happen to my family. You can trust on this.” Despite his attempts to keep himself serious, Vincent failed to suppress a hiccup that betrayed him. Sebastian suddenly laughed, a smirk on his lips having something malicious about it. “You are only a man, Vincent. We both of us are only drunken men, and we are talking nonsense here.” “Shall we forget it then?” Vincent hiccupped again. Sebastian was left alone. And now he was lying sleepless in the dark. All he could do was stare at the ceiling and think… think… think… that he was hell, perhaps. He had to think it all over… very, very carefully. Right?.. He could feel someone’s weight on the mattress and fire-hot breath on his cheekbone. It was his own self hanging above him. Only the counterpart’s eyes were brighter than a comet, with fiery, volcanic pupils, like those of a snake. “Don’t look at me. I know who you are. You are only a symbol. You aren’t real! I am your master, so go back there you’re come from — into the bloody book,” said Sebastian, never knowing for sure if he did so aloud or if he only dreamt his own words. Everything felt like in a fog. His body was heavy, his breathing was waning. Sleep paralysis overtook him in the end, and he felt the night hag on his chest. The counterpart had a beautiful smile of the devil. It was shining to the writer from the darkness like a shadow of diamonds, and Sebastian, surprisingly, liked it; it reminded him of something of himself — a part of his own innate wisdom that he had been wary to use all his life as if it was a tool meant for destruction. Victoria wouldn’t have liked this part of him, as wouldn’t have anyone. Victoria would stare at him anxiously when something like that came up to the surface. “You are not like yourself,” she would say, never knowing that it was his real self. How sickening it must be to love a mask and fear to admit it! Or is it worse to wear this mask? whispered the head that was hanging above him. Its neck and face had elongated to become a snake. The tip of a forked and thin, like a child’s tendon, tongue stuck out from its wide mouth. Sebastian shut his eyes and counted to five, then looked again. The counterpart was still there; however, his face became more like his own. No, it was his own. The counterpart kept his silence, but Sebastian could hear him speak with his presence. A rising desire began to boil in the human blood. “No,” said Michaelis only once. But in a way that he himself did not believe it. When he was describing the devil from the first-person perspective, he was trying to be in his shoes, and that meant thinking outside of any human concepts. Remembering close-mindedness and layers of anthropomorphism. Remembering the impossible, boundless paradox of the world. Trying to express the inexpressible by manifesting the rebellious spirit in the primitive form of a human. It was meant to limit Satan to the tiny scale of the earthly world, the limit being relative, of course. But what about feelings that are so important to men? Sebastian decided that ordinary feelings could and had to be forgotten. The devil knows not such trifle things. He is outside of mind and heart, yet he can master them successfully. He can imitate them. The devil is omnipresent. But he is summoned and lived only by humans themselves. The same old archetype. His ripe and glistening eyeballs came too close to Sebastian’s. Their jet-black lashes intertwined. Dream or not, Sebastian had to look into his own self — wordless, mocking in its observation, and frightful like the primaeval Horror. The blood froze in his veins, and he wanted to scream like he had never done before — like a beast, wildly, hopelessly, for the man was drowning, he was drowning beyond salvation, in the dark, but! his voice failed him. The man could only watch. Sebastian became just a witness. It felt like he had never been anything else… And what would it matter if he disappeared, if he was gone from the earth at that very moment? That Horror wouldn’t just tear him to shreds, it would doubtlessly turn him into any absence of his own dust. What was Before, and what would be After? Sebastian lived. Sebastian died. Was there really a Sebastian? And what did it matter if he was only a man? Are you? Then what am I? The Abyss looks into the Abyss. You called for me with your entire being. And here I am. You are me. And I am you. That is why I know you at your core. Do you know me? Tell me. *** Ciel was late for breakfast. Judging by his rapid breathing, he was running, but his pace was calm by the time he walked around the corner. “Excuse me,” he said. “Never mind.” Sebastian tossed a grapefruit peel into a saucer. The young man brought the book with him, and before taking his seat, he put it closer to Sebastian and moved it further from the edge. Today, he was wearing light breeches and a white shirt with a navy jacket. The shade of it was perfect to highlight the colour of his eyes. One only had to take a closer look at him to understand that he was sleepless. Ciel looked a bit anxious and tense. He took his seat and put his hands in front of him — two awkward, nervous branches — they, too, were shaking with anxiety. It’s not the book, but his own reaction to it, the man thought as he put a piece of fruit into his mouth and washed down its sweet-sour taste with some coffee. Ciel was the first to speak. “I shouldn’t have read it.” “Why is that?” “It gave me strange feelings.” “Perhaps you will share them with me?” Ciel nodded vaguely. “This black man is the devil, isn’t he?” “Right.” “You describe the devil as he walks a night city. He goes to a circus, where he watches a marvellous show. All these clowns, acrobats, and fake diversity of colours are the human world seen through his eyes.” “At best. Right.” “But then we have the dagger thrower appear on the scene. She stands in contrast with the other circus actors, and I, in my naivety, assumed that you would show the love between the devil and this woman… but… it’s an angel playing in the human world, just like the bored devil. And I thought this creature in blue robes, as you describe it, was an androgyne, but, “Ciel was now completely abashed, “it seemed to me that…” He blushed deeply and shifted his gaze to the floor. Of course, Sebastian knew the reason for his embarrassment, and he liked it a lot. He could hardly keep himself from smiling. But he needed to rein himself. “You can tell me anything, Ciel.” The young man glanced around — to see if someone was looking their way — and leant forwards. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “It was a man. That means they are… Can I be wrong? Now he reminded him of that same cherub who had learnt the “terrible secret” and was now gossiping in all his innocence inside an arbour of Eden. He was perplexed, and yet, deep within, he was curious. “No, you are right,” Sebastian said simply. “The devil fell in love with a young man. Although ‘fell in love’ is a poor choice of words to use for him. He was rather consciously absorbed by him.” Ciel turned even redder. He opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and took a sip of milky tea. Then he hurriedly took a bite of a blueberry cake and just as hurriedly chewed it, looking adorable as he did. “I’m sorry, did this detail confuse you?” Sebastian moved just a tiny bit closer. “I thought that young people your age were aware of sodomy. But in the context of this novel, homosexuality was a necessity for expressing an idea.” “W-what idea?” “That spirits have no gender. Of course, it is difficult to express the idea of their relationship in the example of ‘humans’ and to convey with a metaphor what, perhaps, can never be conveyed at all, and yet…” Ciel didn’t look up at him. All of a sudden, he was very interested in a teaspoon and the fact that it could be spun counterclockwise. “And the angel… you showed him rather…” “Indifferent? Alas, I don’t see angels as good-hearted, compassionate creatures.” “He killed hundreds of people for nothing. Is that what you call an angel? A strange way to see it… And your main character defies all that is divine.” “Of course, he is the devil after all.” “It’s not about that, it’s about how he does it. You sympathise with the devil. These thoughts and feelings aren’t his; they are… yours. It’s all yours. There is so much evil in you. Why? The first time I saw you, you seemed reserved to me, but at the same time… good.” “And now you think I’m bad?” The man narrowed his eyes and stared at the boy with something sly in his expression. “Because I dare write what I feel? Or would you say that one mustn’t feel so? Will I be punished for my nature?” “This can and must be eradicated,” Ciel said even quieter, his tone guilty yet firm. Sebastian smirked. He put his cup of coffee aside and leant closer to Ciel. It made the latter embarrassed, but that was exactly his intention. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, isn’t it right? So, who knows? Perhaps that’s why I gave this book to you.” “What do you mean?” “I need your help, Ciel. You may be the one who will bring me ‘out of the dark’.” “I dare not. Who am I to do it?” “You are the one who is willing to help others. Haven’t you said that you want to light others’ paths?” “I haven’t studied yet. I have no right to do it.” “It is about our situation, Ciel. You stand on the bright side, and I am full of vice. Won’t you give me your hand? Let it be a part of your studying.” The blue eyes looked at him intently and — for the first time that morning — with courage. They never shifted for many a moment as they both stared at each other. It was a fearful yet reckless light. Pure as the dirtiest thought of the demon. “Do you really want this?” uttered the tiny mouth. Barely audible. “Yes.” And this is not a lie… Oh, how I want to drown in him. “You may be my last hope. After the death of my wife, I must admit that I could lose my way completely. She always held me back.” A tiny line appeared on the smooth forehead. “My mother told me how much you loved her,” said Ciel. “I’m sorry. She must have been a very good person.” “She was a lot like you — righteous and… light-bringing.” Ciel was embarrassed by the words. Their hands lay too close on the table; he slowly took his away and put them on his lap. “But I don’t know what I can… what I can do to help you. I want to, but I don’t know how.” “The first time we met,” said Sebastian insistently, “I thought you were an impossibly pure creature. That’s why it was blasphemy to give you my dirty novel. I was wrong to believe that it would do you good, as you put it, to know your enemy.” “You were right. I’ve learnt things…” Ciel looked down at his hands thoughtfully, “that may help me… It would be foolish to help people without fully knowing their afflictions. Temptations and sins… I was so stunned by the book and its revelations as if I were five years old.” “Did you find the love that I described too dirty? It surprises me, for I described it as possibly the purest spiritual quintessence.” “It’s wrong and dirty.” “Can love be such?” “If it’s not pleasing to God.” “Excuse me for asking, have you ever loved?” Ciel took a sip of tea and looked at the man. “No. My mind is occupied by other things.” “Well, I should follow your example.” Sebastian smiled. “What should I do now? Should I behave myself like a good boy?” “Don’t say this.” “What?..” “You are fooling around. We cannot keep speaking like that. I should think that you are insincere and making fun of me. You act like a chi…” Ciel never finished the sentence. “You are right; we cannot since you don’t even say what you really want to. Then I propose to you this: we will be honest with each other. I — in my desire to surrender to your pure will, and you — in your desire to finally have confidence. Do we have a deal?” “Why do you think I need it? Confidence?” “I see how you compare yourself with your brother. This can be detrimental to your life.” “It’s not true.” “Are you sure?” Ciel thought for a moment and answered very slowly: “We can just be honest with each other. We can be friends. And I can help you… I hope so.” “You are the only one who can, I’m sure of it. And I’m ready to follow you, Ciel.” His thin lips spread into a smile. “What is this? Call it whatever you like — a soul’s order, a voice from above… I listen to you. I want to listen to you.” As soon as Ciel glanced at Sebastian, his cheeks flushed again, turning a bright poppy red. The fragile boy proved so impossibly attractive that, in the end, Sebastian was willing to do whatever he wanted as long as he followed him. And how long and what way knew the Other. “Good,” was the only muffled answer uttered by the blue-eyed angel. It was then that Elizabeth came with her governess. “Good morning!” Ciel carefully took the book from the table and put it on his lap. He didn’t want it to be seen. Sebastian turned to the girl. “Good morning, miss. How did you sleep?” “Wonderfully! Guess what I dreamt?” “Cherubs with halos and snowy wings?” The girl laughed. Her ringing voice awakened the sleepy realm of the morning café. “You are sharp-witted!” she said to the man and threw a mirthful glance at Ciel, who was unaware of being the subject of the talk. She took the next seat and said loudly, “I was catching them by the wings. We were resisting. Oh my!” Ciel gave Elizabeth a knowing look. “I remember, Lizzy. Don’t look at me like that.” Sebastian smiled and turned to Ciel. “I was told that you sang beautifully in a choir.” “It was a long time ago.” “Not so long,” giggled the girl. “I’d love to hear it.” Ciel mumbled something like, “It was terrible.” The others came. “Such early birds to be awake this hour!” said Rachel. Gabriel sat next to his brother and Elizabeth. He pinched his brother lightly on the elbow and whispered something in his ear; the latter chuckled. At breakfast, everyone began to discuss their plans for the day. It appeared that a doll exhibition was opening. The men were left without the right to vote, and it was decided to go. Sebastian leant to Ciel: “Do you want me to go with you, or should I give you time to think and take a break from my company?” Ciel answered immediately: “Go with me, of course.” He was embarrassed by his own answer — he found it overly commanding. The man just smiled softly. “As you say.”