[fic]Kuroshitsuji; Sebastian/Ciel
Race to the Finish
by emcyclopedia
G
pre-au of this fic;
752 words
disclaimer; kuroshitsuji isn't mine :(
He feels like his lungs are about to burst and his heart about to fail.
He has never been terribly good at any form of moderate to extreme physical activities. And he especially hates this time of year, when the trees are green and the flowers bloom, dreading the three day sports festival.
Ciel hates it all.
Perhaps his motivation to participate this year is wrong. He has always found a way to worm out of this ridiculous event every year. Why race for first place anyway? Acting like idiots and beaming with pride and joy as their name is announced over the intercom. Then they bask in the attention, the applause and the cheers from their parents' loving arms. It is all so stupid.
Ciel frowns as he takes his sixth place flag.
All the sweat and dirt; it is filthy. Of course, he can buy almost whatever he wants to reward himself for doing absolutely nothing at all. After all, he is a rich and spoiled brat-- so why not act like one? Though from experience, he knows that even begging would not get him that-- Sebastian's home-made triple layered lemon cake which is very coincidentally promised in turn of Ciel's victory in the 100 metre dash event.
Ciel narrows his eyes in determination. A treat for his sweet tooth out weighing his pride at that very moment, he had agreed to Sebastian's offer. Well, being a little sweaty once in a while should be fine and his parents are fairly worried about his lack of physique... Maybe Sebastian will even cheer and promise to play with him if he wins... Ciel shakes away that childish thought before resuming to stretch for the next event.
Sprinting is something that only dogs so. Chasing after that thrown toy spiralling in the air. It is also another reason why Ciel hate sports with a strong passion. Why should he do such... idiotic things for the enjoyment of someon else? None of this festival thing never did make much sense.
Ciel knows that Sebastian is watching from somewhere by the sidelines and couldn't help but to feel slightly nervous. He tries to scan for Sebastian in the big crowd as people begin to gather for the 100 metre dash event. Anxious participants and eager parents raising their cameras and waving little cheering flags also gathered about, obstructing little Ciel's view. In his mind, Ciel sarcastically mocks at these doting parents and fellow brats.
Ciel's dark eyes are set on the track. And at the sound of a horn, Ciel takes off. The rhythmic slaps of his runners hitting the tar-covered ground and his heart pounding hard to keep up. His calves are tired and sore from the previous activities and lack of exercise; his lungs are barely intaking enough air. There is a metallic tang at the back of his mouth and his throat and nostrils burn in effort to breathe properly. His ears are popping, but he is almost there. He hears the muffled cheers and stops, feeling a bead of sweat gathering at his brow before trickling down along his heated skin and he can taste the vomit gathering in his throat in a lump. He hopes that Sebastian saw his short seconds of glory and effort, leaning heavily against a pole and glancing up momentarily at the intercom...
Fifth! Ciel Phantomhive!
Maybe he tried too hard, he thinks, lapsing into a coughing fit when a small sour laugh escapes him. This should not be worth a lemon cake... maybe he only wanted to impress Sebastian... He swallows the lump in his throat. Really, what is the point of even trying? He makes his way toward his excited parents and scoffs at himself in disgust and embarrassment. He did not win, what are they so happy about? His eyes burn and he clutches tightly onto the small shiny badge he receives.
Ciel? That was--
There is a pause before strong arms wrap around him and a gentle kiss is pressed onto his cheek. He normally dislikes being held like this but he does not complain. There are tears streaking his pink cheeks now, stubbornly sniffling into Sebastian's shoulder while his frame shakes and the material of the sweater sticks to his skin in an irritable fashion.
Sebastian continues to stroke his hair and Ciel continues to cry. The flavour of defeat is ever so bitter on his tongue that even Sebastian's lemon cake will not cure.
But he hopes that in some way, he made Sebastian proud.
by emcyclopedia
G
pre-au of this fic;
752 words
disclaimer; kuroshitsuji isn't mine :(
He feels like his lungs are about to burst and his heart about to fail.
He has never been terribly good at any form of moderate to extreme physical activities. And he especially hates this time of year, when the trees are green and the flowers bloom, dreading the three day sports festival.
Ciel hates it all.
Perhaps his motivation to participate this year is wrong. He has always found a way to worm out of this ridiculous event every year. Why race for first place anyway? Acting like idiots and beaming with pride and joy as their name is announced over the intercom. Then they bask in the attention, the applause and the cheers from their parents' loving arms. It is all so stupid.
Ciel frowns as he takes his sixth place flag.
All the sweat and dirt; it is filthy. Of course, he can buy almost whatever he wants to reward himself for doing absolutely nothing at all. After all, he is a rich and spoiled brat-- so why not act like one? Though from experience, he knows that even begging would not get him that-- Sebastian's home-made triple layered lemon cake which is very coincidentally promised in turn of Ciel's victory in the 100 metre dash event.
Ciel narrows his eyes in determination. A treat for his sweet tooth out weighing his pride at that very moment, he had agreed to Sebastian's offer. Well, being a little sweaty once in a while should be fine and his parents are fairly worried about his lack of physique... Maybe Sebastian will even cheer and promise to play with him if he wins... Ciel shakes away that childish thought before resuming to stretch for the next event.
Sprinting is something that only dogs so. Chasing after that thrown toy spiralling in the air. It is also another reason why Ciel hate sports with a strong passion. Why should he do such... idiotic things for the enjoyment of someon else? None of this festival thing never did make much sense.
Ciel knows that Sebastian is watching from somewhere by the sidelines and couldn't help but to feel slightly nervous. He tries to scan for Sebastian in the big crowd as people begin to gather for the 100 metre dash event. Anxious participants and eager parents raising their cameras and waving little cheering flags also gathered about, obstructing little Ciel's view. In his mind, Ciel sarcastically mocks at these doting parents and fellow brats.
Ciel's dark eyes are set on the track. And at the sound of a horn, Ciel takes off. The rhythmic slaps of his runners hitting the tar-covered ground and his heart pounding hard to keep up. His calves are tired and sore from the previous activities and lack of exercise; his lungs are barely intaking enough air. There is a metallic tang at the back of his mouth and his throat and nostrils burn in effort to breathe properly. His ears are popping, but he is almost there. He hears the muffled cheers and stops, feeling a bead of sweat gathering at his brow before trickling down along his heated skin and he can taste the vomit gathering in his throat in a lump. He hopes that Sebastian saw his short seconds of glory and effort, leaning heavily against a pole and glancing up momentarily at the intercom...
Fifth! Ciel Phantomhive!
Maybe he tried too hard, he thinks, lapsing into a coughing fit when a small sour laugh escapes him. This should not be worth a lemon cake... maybe he only wanted to impress Sebastian... He swallows the lump in his throat. Really, what is the point of even trying? He makes his way toward his excited parents and scoffs at himself in disgust and embarrassment. He did not win, what are they so happy about? His eyes burn and he clutches tightly onto the small shiny badge he receives.
Ciel? That was--
There is a pause before strong arms wrap around him and a gentle kiss is pressed onto his cheek. He normally dislikes being held like this but he does not complain. There are tears streaking his pink cheeks now, stubbornly sniffling into Sebastian's shoulder while his frame shakes and the material of the sweater sticks to his skin in an irritable fashion.
Sebastian continues to stroke his hair and Ciel continues to cry. The flavour of defeat is ever so bitter on his tongue that even Sebastian's lemon cake will not cure.
But he hopes that in some way, he made Sebastian proud.