Chapter Text
December 15, 1967
Sebastian,
I'm just going to leave this note. It looks like you need the sleep. Besides, I didn't want to give you the opportunity to say another stupid thing.
I'm taking the drawing with me. You probably wanted to keep it, didn't you? I did consider leaving it with you, but I've become too intimately familiar with your lack of organizational skills. Rather than threatening you with death if anyone ever sees this, I'd rather just be safe and keep it myself.
I can't believe you talked me into this.
You told me once that it was the artist's challenge to reveal the essence beneath the surface. That the skin was the closest reflection of the soul. Do you remember? Do you think you succeeded?
I like that thought.
Anyway.
I'll call you if I can.
If not, wait for a letter.
Yours,
Ciel
Ciel's eyes darted from the drawing to his note and back again. He breathed in. Held his breath. Exhaled slowly.
Dawn crept through in the windows. The shadows of snowflakes twirled in the light. Sebastian murmured in his sleep, said something in slurred French that Ciel couldn't understand. The rush of the traffic outside was just barely audible.
A glance down at his watch. He had less than an hour until his flight.
He slipped the drawing into his bag, he hoisted it over his shoulder, and carefully pushed his luggage into the hallway outside of the room.
One last glimpse back at the crumbled sheets, the peeks of skin beneath.
Ciel closed the door.