Chapter Text
The rumors surrounding Professor Sebastian were woefully insufficient.
No whispered account had ever truly captured the effect of him in person. Tall and impeccably built yet refined in bearing, he carried himself with an effortless grace that made the very corridors of the university seem narrower in his presence. His skin was pale and unblemished, a striking contrast to the midnight sheen of his hair, and his eyes—crimson, sharp, and unerringly perceptive—held the unsettling depth of aged wine in crystal. He looked less like a man of academia and more like a figure stepped from the pages of a Gothic novel: composed, immaculate, and devastatingly handsome. There was something distinctly other about him. Not merely that he had been born abroad before settling in England, but that the air itself seemed to shift when he entered a room. Conversations hushed; attention sharpened. He was dazzling without effort, precise without cruelty, and Ciel found himself hopelessly, foolishly captivated.
He was far from alone in that sentiment. Professor Sebastian’s lectures were notoriously crowded, filled with admirers who cared far more for the man than for the material. Students of every discipline found reasons to enroll. Even those with little interest in modern literature—Ciel included—secured seats in the hope of witnessing him at the lectern. They did not attend for the novels or the essays; they attended for him. It was easily the most sought-after course in the institution, and Ciel considered himself fortunate to have gained a place at all. A faint guilt lingered at the thought that someone genuinely devoted to the subject might have been displaced by his presence, yet he consoled himself with the fact that he performed well regardless.
Academic excellence had always followed Ciel. He consistently ranked near the top of his cohort in nearly every subject he undertook, earning the quiet approval of his professors and the occasional envy of his peers. Only his biochemistry module proved troublesome, a persistent thorn in an otherwise immaculate record.
As the bell rang through the stone halls of the London campus, Ciel bent over his planner, scribbling briskly. His schedule had grown unbearable of late. Club obligations, his duties as student council president, mounting coursework, and—most pressingly—a twelve-page paper due tomorrow for Professor Sebastian’s class. A paper he had not so much as outlined.
Ordinarily, he managed his responsibilities with ruthless efficiency. Yet the recent death of his dog had unsettled him more deeply than he cared to admit. He had missed several days of lectures, offering vague explanations rather than the truth. At his age, confessing that grief over a pet had undone him felt childish, almost humiliating. He could not bear the thought of his professors—especially Sebastian—regarding him as fragile or unreliable.
Closing the booklet with a soft thud, Ciel exhaled. There was simply no mathematical possibility of finishing everything. Something would have to be sacrificed. His grades were strong enough that he might survive one imperfect submission, though the notion sat poorly with his pride.
“Ciel!” A hand struck his desk, jolting him from his spiraling thoughts.
“Y-yes!” He looked up to find Sieglinde watching him with bright curiosity.
“Are you coming to William’s dorm tonight? A few of us are gathering—it’ll be lively. You desperately need a break.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Ciel replied with a weary sigh. “I have far too much to catch up on.”
Sieglinde’s expression softened. “You haven’t written the paper yet, have you?”
“I haven’t even begun.” He lowered his forehead briefly to the desk in quiet despair. Professor Sebastian was a meticulous grader—never unfair, but exacting. Ciel respected that. The man valued sincerity and precision above all else. He spoke plainly, without ornament or false kindness, and Ciel found that trait… compelling.
“You should request an extension,” Sieglinde suggested gently. “Given everything, I’m certain he would understand. You’re in your final year, and you’ve always been exemplary.”
Ciel hesitated. “It’s embarrassing,” he murmured. One misstep could tarnish years of careful reputation.
“Would you like me to accompany you?”
He drew in a steady breath and released it. Pride warred with necessity. Even a modest extension would salvage something. “No. I’ll speak to him during his free period.” Rising, he gathered his books and slid them into his navy satchel. “You go on without me. I’ll likely remain in the university library until closing.”
Sieglinde offered him an encouraging smile. “Very well. Do remember to eat, and send word if you require anything.”
“Thank you,” Ciel replied quietly before stepping into the corridor, already bracing himself for the encounter to come.
Professor Sebastian’s office lay on the far side of the campus grounds, past the old stone courtyard and along a quieter stretch near the university’s historic library. It was a considerable walk from Ciel’s usual lecture halls, but he did not particularly mind. The English afternoon was cool without being bitter, a pale sun filtering through drifting clouds. The relative silence suited him; it granted him space to gather his thoughts before what promised to be an uncomfortable conversation.
He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, retrieving his phone and headphones. After a brief scroll through his playlists, he selected something soft and instrumental. The music settled over him like a veil, muting the distant hum of student chatter and the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes.
When his dog had passed away earlier that week, something within him had fractured. He had spent days confined to his room in the dormitory, curtains drawn against the grey London sky, listening to music and grieving in solitude. He had wanted—desperately—to return home to England’s countryside estate where his pet had lived, to be present for the end, to say goodbye properly. But circumstances and distance had made that impossible. The helplessness of it lingered like a bruise. Concentrating on lectures, assignments, responsibilities—everything had seemed trivial in comparison.
By the time Ciel reached Sebastian’s office, the door was closed. For a fleeting moment, he considered retreating, taking it as a sign that perhaps this conversation was better postponed. Pride urged him to turn back. Practicality, however, forced his hand. He raised his knuckles and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately.
Crimson eyes met his own.
“Ah, Ciel,” Sebastian greeted smoothly, a faint smile curving his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Ciel blinked, momentarily startled that he was recognized so readily. Sebastian lectured hundreds of students each week, and Ciel had never been one to seek attention. Even as student council president, he preferred to operate quietly behind the scenes.
“I wished to speak with you about the paper,” he replied, fingers tightening slightly around the strap of his satchel.
“I see. Do come in.”
Sebastian stepped aside, allowing him entry before closing the door with deliberate care. The office was immaculate—dark wood shelves lined with books, papers arranged in precise stacks. Sebastian perched lightly on the edge of his desk, crossing one ankle over the other, leaning back against his hands with effortless elegance. In his tailored grey suit, hair neatly swept back, he looked less like a lecturer and more like a figure from a fashion editorial.
“Well?” Sebastian prompted gently. “Have you come to submit it early?”
“Not exactly,” Ciel admitted, frowning when Sebastian’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Have you encountered difficulty? Issues with sourcing? It happens more often than you might think. There’s no shame in asking for clarification.”
The warmth in his tone made Ciel’s composure waver. Being alone in this office, under that steady gaze, was disarming.
“I’ve… had a rather difficult week,” he began carefully. “I haven’t been able to start the paper at all.”
“Not at all?” Sebastian’s voice held surprise, though not irritation. “That is unlike you. Is something amiss?”
Ciel swallowed. “My dog passed away earlier this week. I’ve had him since I was a child.” He kept his gaze fixed on the polished floor. “It affected me more than I anticipated.”
He braced himself for dismissal.
Instead, Sebastian slid from the desk and stepped closer, placing a steady, reassuring hand upon his shoulder.
“I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said quietly. “Losing a companion like that is no small matter. You must be devastated.”
Ciel looked up, startled. There was no mockery in Sebastian’s expression—only genuine sympathy.
“I have a pet myself,” Sebastian continued softly, “and I cannot imagine taking such news lightly. Grief does not diminish simply because one is expected to be composed.” He paused. “Would an extension be of assistance?”
“Yes—please.” The relief in Ciel’s voice was immediate. “I dislike asking, but I have fallen behind in several areas. I hesitated to approach my other professors.”
Sebastian’s lips curved faintly. “Am I so approachable?”
“No—it’s not that,” Ciel hurried to clarify, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. “You are… consistent. Fair. In your lectures, you are understanding. I believed you might be sympathetic. I did not intend to presume.”
“I shall accept that as a compliment,” Sebastian replied lightly, the smile returning in full. “Very well. You may have an extension.”
Ciel allowed himself a small, genuine smile of gratitude.
“There it is,” Sebastian observed with quiet amusement. “I seldom see you smile in class.”
“I am usually concentrating,” Ciel murmured, embarrassed.
Sebastian chuckled softly. “Even so, you have a rather pleasant smile—” He stopped himself abruptly. “My apologies. That may have sounded inappropriate. I am still adjusting to the delicate boundaries of academia. Should I overstep, do correct me.”
Ciel, now blushing in earnest, found himself unable to respond immediately. He knew the remark was harmless, merely kindness. And yet, despite himself, his heart beat a little faster beneath Sebastian’s steady gaze.
“I apologise,” Sebastian said gently, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable, Ciel.”
“You didn’t,” Ciel replied quickly, fingers tightening around the straps of his satchel. “It’s just that I— well… thank you.” He offered another small, hesitant smile, still faintly flushed.
“You are most welcome, Ciel.” Sebastian’s expression softened. “In fact, I shall extend the deadline by an additional week. That should allow you time to recover properly and complete the work to your usual standard.” He paused thoughtfully. “In return, once you have submitted it, perhaps you might assist me with grading.”
Ciel blinked. “M-me?”
“Why not?” Sebastian tilted his head slightly. “Our department has been seeking a capable student to help with marking essays and managing certain clerical matters in the office. It is a paid position—not lavish, I’m afraid, but respectable enough for supplementary income.”
Ciel hesitated. “Shouldn’t that position be offered to a modern literature major?”
“It has been,” Sebastian replied with a light sigh. “Repeatedly. Unfortunately, enthusiasm has not translated into commitment. You, however, are diligent. Reliable.” He gave a small shrug. “You may decline, of course.”
“I can do it,” Ciel said at once, more eagerly than he intended. His eyes brightened despite himself. “It wouldn’t be a burden.”
The opportunity felt far greater than a modest wage. It meant additional hours in Sebastian’s presence—conversations beyond structured lectures, shared work, proximity. He had long convinced himself that simply attending his class was sufficient to temper what Sieglinde teasingly called his “infatuation.” Yet the thought of remaining after lectures, working side by side, was impossible to resist.
“Excellent,” Sebastian replied, clearly pleased. “You are intelligent and meticulous. I believe you will be an asset.”
Ciel’s pulse quickened at the praise.
Sebastian turned toward a bookshelf, retrieving a slim folder of documents. “There are a few forms to complete for the administration—bank details, identification, routine matters. Nothing overly tedious.” He handed the folder to Ciel.
“I’ll return it tomorrow,” Ciel promised, kneeling to slide the papers carefully into his satchel. His hands trembled slightly as he zipped it shut, betraying his otherwise composed exterior.
“Ciel.”
He looked up immediately, breath catching. For a fleeting, mortifying second, his imagination betrayed him with thoughts he firmly suppressed. “Y-yes?”
Sebastian knelt beside him, lowering himself to eye level. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter.
“If you ever wish to speak—about your loss, or anything else troubling you—my door remains open. And should any other professor give you unnecessary difficulty, you may come to me. I will do what I can.”
Ciel knew the words were not unique to him. Sebastian was, by nature, attentive to his students. And yet, under that steady crimson gaze, the reassurance felt personal.
“Thank you,” Ciel said softly, swallowing the tightness in his throat. He rose, slipping the satchel over his shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor.”
Sebastian stood as well, offering a warm, composed smile. “Until tomorrow, Ciel.”
As Ciel stepped back into the corridor, the cool English air felt lighter somehow—though his heart continued to race long after the office door had closed behind him.
~your eyes are the only map I need~
Ciel managed to complete his essay within the allotted week, and to his own quiet satisfaction, it was among his better efforts. The extension Sebastian had granted him proved invaluable. It allowed him not only to write without the fog of grief clouding his thoughts, but also to regain control over the rest of his responsibilities. By the week’s end, he had caught up on his coursework, attended his meetings, and restored his carefully maintained academic rhythm. For the first time in days, he could breathe without feeling as though something pressed heavily upon his chest.
He had half a mind to spend the weekend asleep, curtains drawn and obligations ignored. However, Sieglinde, as relentless as ever, persuaded him otherwise. She insisted he join a small group for an evening out at a club just off campus. Ciel was hesitant—he had never been particularly social—but the idea of a quiet drink and music in the background did not seem unbearable. Besides, Sieglinde was unlikely to accept refusal without protest.
The club was a striking establishment named Eros, situated near the edge of town between a modest shopping complex and an aging block of flats. Its exterior was dark and understated, the walls painted black with only a handful of narrow windows. Neon signage glowed in electric hues above the entrance, casting an otherworldly light onto the pavement. Inside, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Multicoloured lights swept across the vast interior, reflecting off polished surfaces and momentarily blinding newcomers unaccustomed to such intensity.
At the centre of the expansive room lay the dance floor, tiled in silver panels that mirrored the riot of colour from above. The space was crowded—students and locals alike pressed together in animated clusters, some dancing with abandon, others shouting conversations over the pounding music. A few staggered clumsily, clearly having indulged more than wisely.
Ciel moved carefully through the throng, keeping close behind Sieglinde to avoid being jostled.
“I’m going to find a seat,” he called near her ear, the music so loud it vibrated through his ribs.
She nodded enthusiastically, flashing him a thumbs-up before vanishing back into the sea of bodies.
Ciel had never considered himself much of a dancer. The thought of stepping onto that illuminated floor under so many watchful eyes made his composure waver. Instead, he approached the bar and ordered something inexpensive, taking refuge at a small table along the wall. From there, he observed rather than participated, idly scrolling through his phone between sips.
He doubted anyone would disturb him. He did not command attention the way Sieglinde did—radiant, charismatic, effortlessly charming. Nor did he possess the towering presence and striking good looks of someone like William. Ciel existed more quietly, more subtly.
He told himself he preferred it that way.
Perhaps it was not preference so much as familiarity.
Nearly an hour passed before Sieglinde came rushing toward him, hair slightly dishevelled, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with excitement.
“Ciel!” she exclaimed, collapsing into the seat beside him. “Ciel, you will not believe this.”
He arched a brow. “Have you been drinking?”
“No! Well—barely. That’s not the point.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice only slightly despite the noise. “Sebastian is here. Professor Sebastian.”
Ciel’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest. “What?” he breathed. “That’s impossible. He’s faculty—why would he be here?”
Sieglinde rolled her eyes playfully. “Because this is one of the most popular clubs in this part of England. Professors are allowed to have lives, you know. He’s at the bar.”
Sebastian.
Ciel pressed a hand lightly to his chest as if to steady the erratic rhythm beneath. He had never seen him outside the university grounds—never in anything but impeccably tailored suits beneath the dignified lighting of lecture halls.
And yet, somewhere across the crowded room, amidst the music and neon haze, Sebastian was here.
“You should go over there, Ciel!”
“WHAT?” He nearly choked on the word, staring at Sieglinde as though she had suggested something criminal. “I absolutely cannot go over there.”
“It’ll be fine,” she insisted, leaning closer so he could hear her over the music. “I just saw a couple of girls from our lecture speaking to him. You can simply say hello.”
“No,” Ciel said firmly, though his composure was already cracking. “That would be mortifying.”
Sieglinde paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “All right. Then don’t approach him. Make him approach you.”
Ciel stared at her. “Are you attempting to orchestrate something between me and our professor?” His fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of the table.
“Yes. Obviously,” she replied without shame. “You’re utterly infatuated with him. And, frankly, he’s devastatingly attractive.”
Ciel flushed. “You have considered that he may very well have a partner? Or be married?”
“I’ve never seen a ring,” she countered. “And he’s never mentioned anyone significant. So what precisely is the issue?”
“Everything is the issue,” Ciel muttered. “Firstly, I look dreadful. Secondly, in this crowd, he will never notice me.”
Sieglinde rolled her eyes and leaned across the table, deftly removing his glasses before he could protest. She pushed his fringe back from his forehead, assessing him critically. “Take off that jacket. You look like you’re attending a study session, not a night out.”
Ciel frowned but shrugged off his navy jacket. Beneath it he wore a simple black V-neck and dark jeans—hardly remarkable.
Sieglinde tugged lightly at his collar, revealing a subtle line of collarbone. “Minimal, but effective.”
“I can’t see without my glasses,” he protested, reclaiming them and sliding them back into place.
“Fine. Keep them,” she conceded. “But at least roll up your sleeves.”
He obeyed reluctantly, pulse already quickening. “And now?”
“Now,” she said decisively, “you walk to the bar. Not beside Sebastian—somewhere within his line of sight. Order a drink. Ignore him completely.”
“That is your grand strategy?” Ciel whispered incredulously. “If I don’t speak to him, why would he speak to me?”
“Because,” she said with maddening confidence, “you are far more noticeable than you think.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” she insisted. “And if you haven’t realised it yet, that is hardly my fault.”
Before he could argue further, Sieglinde seized his wrist and pulled him upright, guiding him carefully through the shifting crowd. “Be natural. And do not overindulge—you know precisely how you become after too much.”
“I am aware,” Ciel murmured, cheeks warming.
“Stop looking so defeated. You haven’t even reached the bar yet.”
“My expectations are merely realistic.”
“You’ll never know unless you try. I am absolutely rooting for you.”
“Why are you like this?” he sighed.
“You will thank me later,” she declared, giving him a light push toward the bar.
Ciel stumbled forward slightly, heart pounding. If he had not already consumed a drink or two, he would never have agreed to this absurd plan. But now there was no retreat.
He saw Sebastian almost immediately.
Under the shifting crimson and sapphire lights, Sebastian’s features appeared even more striking. The glow caught along the sharp lines of his jaw and the elegant curve of his cheekbones. He stood at ease, conversing with a small group of young women who were clearly enthralled. Ciel could hardly blame them.
Sebastian always looked impeccable in his tailored suits at the university. But here—dressed more casually—he seemed almost unfairly handsome. Dark fitted jeans outlined his lean frame, and a crisp white shirt lay open at the collar beneath a soft grey cardigan. His hair, usually styled with precision, fell naturally now, fringe brushing just over one eye.
Ciel’s breath caught.
Seeing him like this—relaxed, illuminated by flickering lights rather than lecture hall lamps—felt dangerously intimate.
Ciel forced himself to breathe steadily. His pulse was still unsettled from the mere knowledge that Sebastian was somewhere nearby. Spotting an empty stool at the bar, he slipped into it quickly, positioning himself—perhaps a little too deliberately—within Sebastian’s general line of sight. Whether Sebastian would actually notice him in such a crowded room was another matter entirely. The professor was already surrounded by an effortlessly attractive group, their laughter rising above the music.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked with an easy smile. Then his gaze sharpened with interest. “Well now, aren’t you a charming one?”
Ciel blinked, slightly taken aback. Up close, the man was striking raven hair swept back neatly, warm hazel eyes, and dimples framing a playful grin.
“I’ll just have a beer,” Ciel replied, attempting composure. “Whatever is cheapest.”
“Nonsense. I’ll give you something decent. On the house.”
“That’s… very kind of you. Thank you.”
The bartender poured a smooth amber drink into a glass and slid it toward him. “Name?”
“Ciel.”
“William,” the man replied. “But most people call me Will. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“I usually keep to the booths,” Ciel admitted quietly.
“Ah. A wallflower.” William’s smile widened. “That’s a shame.”
Ciel took a cautious sip. It was far better than he expected. “I suppose I am, yes.”
“So, Ciel,” William leaned an elbow on the counter, “are you here with friends? Or someone special?”
Before Ciel could answer, a familiar voice cut in smoothly.
“William, do refrain from interrogating my student.”
Ciel nearly choked as Sebastian took the seat beside him.
“Your student?” William raised a brow. “I was merely being friendly.”
“And I’m certain you were,” Sebastian replied coolly. “Nevertheless.”
William laughed. “Fine, fine. What’ll you have?”
“A beer,” Sebastian said. “And do try not to frighten him off.”
“I take it you two know each other well?” Ciel asked, attempting to steady his voice.
“Flatmates,” William answered easily. “Unfortunately.”
“For several years now,” Sebastian added dryly.
A fleeting, irrational pang struck Ciel’s chest. Flatmates. Attractive ones at that.
As if reading his thoughts, William scoffed. “Before you assume anything, no, we are not involved. He’s entirely too insufferable.”
“I’ve been told I’m rather universally admired,” Sebastian said smoothly.
Ciel almost inhaled his drink the wrong way.
William grinned wickedly. “Tell me, Ciel. Is he your type?”
Ciel froze.
“William,” Sebastian warned.
But the damage was done. Heat rushed to Ciel’s face. Perhaps it was the alcohol loosening his restraint—or perhaps simple panic—but the words slipped out before he could retrieve them.
“Yes,” he admitted softly. “I suppose he is.”
He immediately took another hurried sip, wishing the floor would open beneath him.
William groaned theatrically. “Don’t encourage him. His ego is already intolerable.”
“Kindly exercise discretion,” Sebastian muttered.
Ciel focused on his glass, mortified.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Sebastian said after a moment, tone gentler now. “It doesn’t quite seem your scene.”
“That obvious?” Ciel managed a faint smile. “I only came because of Sieglinde. I don’t mind the music… I’m simply not very outgoing.”
“It’s healthy to indulge in an evening out now and then,” Sebastian replied. “Especially after the week you’ve endured.”
Ciel nodded. “I usually just sit. I don’t drink much either.”
“You don’t dance?”
“I doubt anyone would ask.”
Sebastian regarded him thoughtfully. “You underestimate yourself.”
William barked a laugh. “Underestimate? This one? Look at him. Those eyes alone would have half the room staring. Look at those pretty doe eyes, and such a delicate figure. He’s your type right, all innocent looking and what not, whatever it is you’re into.”
Ciel straightened abruptly, startled.
Sebastian’s expression shifted—just slightly—and, to Ciel’s disbelief, a faint blush touched his cheeks.
“William,” he said flatly.
“What?” William grinned. “Am I wrong?”
Ciel’s thoughts spiraled. Surely he was imagining things. Surely the alcohol was distorting his perception. There was no conceivable world in which Sebastian—composed, admired, unattainable—would look even faintly flustered on his account.
And yet, seated beside him under the shifting neon lights, Sebastian seemed very real indeed.
Ciel’s gaze shifted cautiously toward Sebastian.
There it was again—that faint warmth dusting Sebastian’s pale cheeks, barely visible beneath the shifting neon lights. It might have been a trick of the atmosphere, of the red and violet glow sweeping across his sharp features. But Ciel was almost certain it wasn’t.
“William, do shut up,” Sebastian muttered, his usual polished composure cracking just slightly.
William only grinned wider, thoroughly entertained. With his golden hair swept neatly back and hazel eyes gleaming with mischief, he looked entirely too pleased with himself. He leaned over and ruffled Sebastian’s dark hair, disrupting the carefully effortless style.
“Oh, this is rich,” William laughed. “Sebastian, have you been admiring your student? That’s rather scandalous, don’t you think?”
Ciel’s thoughts stalled.
He watched, bewildered, as Sebastian’s flush deepened—subtle, but undeniable now. Surely this was absurd. Perhaps the drink was stronger than he’d realized. There was simply no logical explanation for Sebastian reacting like this.
William propped an elbow against the bar, studying Ciel openly. “How old are you, Ciel?”
“Twenty-one,” Ciel answered, his voice steadier than he felt.
“William,” Sebastian warned again, pressing his fingers briefly to his temples. “You’re giving him the wrong impression.”
“Am I?” William tilted his head. “Because from where I’m standing, he looks just as flustered as you do.” His gaze sharpened playfully. “Tell me, Ciel—did you happen to leave your cozy little booth tonight because Sebastian was here?”
Ciel’s stomach dropped.
He’d been cornered with terrifying precision.
“N-no,” he began, then faltered. “That’s not—I just—”
The heat in his face was unbearable now. He could feel it creeping down to his collarbone. Brilliant. Completely exposed.
In a desperate attempt to steady himself, he lifted his glass and drained the remainder in one reckless swallow. He would regret that later. But at least it gave him something to do besides combust on the spot.
William clapped his hands together softly. “Oh, this is delightful. I do love playing matchmaker.”
Sebastian gave a low, incredulous laugh. “I wouldn’t get carried away. It would be… inappropriate.”
There it was.
The word struck harder than Ciel expected.
Inappropriate.
Of course it was. What had he truly imagined might happen? That the quiet tension he felt in lectures would somehow transform into something tangible under nightclub lights in the middle of England? That stolen glances would amount to confession? Reality didn’t bend itself around foolish hopes.
He had been ridiculous.
Slowly, Ciel rose from the barstool, brows drawn together in an attempt at composure.
“Leaving already?” Sebastian asked, offering a small, almost careful smile. “Allow me to at least buy you another drink. Or perhaps something to eat.”
“No, thank you,” Ciel replied, forcing politeness into his tone. “I appreciate the offer, Professor.”
The title tasted wrong now—sharp and distant.
Sebastian’s expression softened. “You can call me Sebastian when we’re outside university grounds.”
Ciel met his eyes then, unable to stop the faint bitterness that slipped through. “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”
Silence hovered between them, heavier than the music pulsing through the club.
Sebastian didn’t respond immediately.
He simply stood there for a moment, watching Ciel retreat through the crowded floor of the London club, weaving between strangers and flashing lights with hurried, almost embarrassed steps. The neon glow caught briefly in Ciel’s dark hair before he disappeared fully into the shifting sea of bodies.
“Thank you for the drink, William. Goodbye,” Ciel had said with careful politeness, offering a strained smile. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Professor.”
Formal. Controlled. Distant.
Now Sebastian’s expression had lost its teasing edge entirely. His jaw had tightened, dark eyes fixed on the space where Ciel had vanished.
It wasn’t until William waved a hand directly in front of his face that Sebastian blinked and refocused.
“Earth to Sebastian,” William drawled, amused. “He’s gone, not abducted.”
Sebastian exhaled slowly and reached for his beer, though his mind clearly wasn’t on it.
William leaned lazily against the bar, golden hair gleaming beneath the overhead lights. “He’s adorable, you know.”
“I’m aware,” Sebastian replied, taking a measured sip.
William’s brows lifted. “You’re aware? So he truly is your type then? Bit shy, thoughtful, those guarded eyes that give everything away if you look long enough. Reminds me of the sort you used to attract back when you worked in Manchester.”
Sebastian huffed faintly. “They were nothing like him. Not even close.”
There was something different about Ciel—something far less performative, far more sincere. The way he blushed wasn’t flirtation; it was honesty. And that, Sebastian knew, was dangerous territory.
William tilted his head, studying him carefully. “So what’s the plan? Are you going to continue playing the dignified, slightly aloof lecturer from Cambridge? Or are you contemplating something more? I need advance warning if I’m expected to deep-clean the flat for company.”
Sebastian shot him a look but couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh. “I don’t know yet. I don’t want to frighten him off. You know I can be… overly enthusiastic.”
“That’s one way to put it,” William snorted.
Sebastian finished his drink and handed the empty glass back. “He surprised me tonight.”
“Oh?”
“I never imagined he’d show up somewhere like this,” Sebastian admitted. “And certainly not bold enough to attempt that transparent little strategy.”
William grinned. “Ignoring you so you’d approach him?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” William said smugly, “it worked, didn’t it?”
Sebastian’s lips curved slowly, confidence returning in flashes. “Of course it did. How could it not?”
But even as he said it, his gaze drifted once more toward the crowd—toward the place where Ciel had disappeared—thoughtful rather than triumphant.
~A whisper of skin, a universe of calm~
Back at the booth, Ciel immediately signalled for another drink.
He didn’t want to think. Not about the way the word *inappropriate* had settled in his chest, nor about how unbearable Monday morning at the university was going to feel. Sebastian knew. There was no way he didn’t. William had practically announced it to the entire bar. And even if William had jokingly implied Ciel might be Sebastian’s type, reality was far less romantic. To Sebastian, he was simply another student. Another face in a lecture hall. Perhaps even another foolish admirer.
Ciel sighed and finished his fifth drink of the night far too quickly. He ordered another before slumping forward onto the table, arms stretched wide, cheek pressed against the cool wood.
What on earth had he been thinking? Why had he listened to Sieglinde in the first place?
“I’m an idiot!” he burst out, voice louder than intended. “An absolute idiot!”
“I’d disagree.”
Ciel’s head snapped up.
Sebastian slid gracefully into the booth opposite him, dark coat falling neatly into place, a faint smile curving his lips. Even under the dim lights, he looked unfairly composed—sharp cheekbones, steady crimson-brown eyes, elegance that never seemed forced.
“P–Professor,” Ciel corrected himself quickly. “I mean—Professor.”
Sebastian’s smile softened. “You may call me Sebastian here. ‘Professor’ feels unnecessarily formal in this setting.” A faint blush coloured his pale cheeks again. “Especially tonight.”
Stop being kind, Ciel thought desperately. You’re making this worse.
“You don’t appear to be enjoying yourself,” Sebastian observed quietly.
Ciel looked away, fingers tightening around his glass. “I’m waiting for my friends. I’ll leave once they’re done.”
“If you’d prefer to return early, I could escort you,” Sebastian offered. “It’s rather late.”
Ciel’s pulse leapt traitorously. “That’s not necessary, Professor—I can manage—”
“I would rather you didn’t walk back to the dormitories alone,” Sebastian interrupted gently. “You’ve had quite a bit to drink.”
“I can just sit here,” Ciel insisted. “I don’t mind.”
Sebastian studied him in silence, and Ciel hated how that gaze alone was enough to set his face aflame. He needed to end this ridiculous infatuation. Immediately.
“Would you care to dance?” Sebastian suggested, a small, teasing smile returning. “It might improve your mood.”
“N-no thank you,” Ciel replied quickly. “I’m not particularly skilled at that.”
Sebastian sighed softly before sliding out of the booth. “If you change your mind—or simply wish to talk—I’ll be at the bar.”
And then he was gone.
Ciel clenched his fists. This night was a disaster.
He ordered another drink. Then another. And another, until the letters on the menu blurred and the room tilted slightly beneath him. Heat rushed through his limbs, stripping away restraint and stealing whatever dignity he had left.
“I don’t need him!” he declared to no one in particular, though the music swallowed his words. “I can enjoy myself!”
He stood abruptly, tugging off his glasses and wobbling toward the crowded dance floor.
It was loud, sticky with spilled alcohol, and suffocatingly packed—but Ciel pushed forward anyway. He nearly lost his footing twice before finding a small patch of space. At first, he moved awkwardly, off-beat and uncertain. Then slowly, recklessly, he surrendered to the rhythm. His hips began to sway, eyes closing as the bass vibrated through him.
If the night couldn’t get worse, then he would force it to get better.
He lifted his arms, running trembling fingers through his dark hair, letting the music guide movements he would never attempt sober.
“Ciel!” Sieglinde’s voice cut sharply through the noise.
He grinned when he saw her—bright-eyed, practical as ever, her concern already obvious. “Dancing!” he shouted back.
“Are you drunk?”
“Dance with me!” he pleaded, looping his arms loosely around her waist. “I want to dance!”
Sieglinde laughed but steadied him by the shoulders. “Let me guess. Sebastian upset you? Don’t take it personally, and please don’t drink yourself senseless over him—”
Ciel groaned dramatically. “Professor Michaelis only cares about his precious students’ safety. I’m not special.”
“Ciel…”
“Who cares about him?” he insisted loudly as the beat intensified. “I want to have fun!”
“Maybe we should leave,” Sieglinde suggested. “You’ve had enough.”
“No! Absolutely not.” He stumbled back, nearly colliding with someone behind him. “I’m going to have fun. Loads of fun.”
His gaze drifted toward the bar.
Sebastian stood exactly where he’d promised, speaking with William, posture relaxed, profile devastatingly perfect beneath the lights.
Ciel’s intoxicated resolve sharpened into something reckless.
“I’m going to ask him to dance,” he announced.
“You just said you didn’t care—”
“I care again!” he interrupted dramatically. “Look at him—with his stupid perfect face and hair and—everything.” He gestured wildly. “I’ll charm him. I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be brilliant.”
“Ciel, don’t you dare—”
But he was already weaving through the crowd, using the moving bodies as cover. His steps were unsteady, but his expression was determined.
“Professor Michaelis!” he called out, tapping Sebastian rather forcefully on the shoulder.
Both Sebastian and William turned at the sound of their names being called.
Ciel stood before them, swaying slightly, dark hair dishevelled, eyes glassy and unfocused beneath the dim lights of the London club.
William winced. “Good Lord. He looks thoroughly intoxicated. This is your brilliant student from Cambridge, isn’t it?”
Sebastian’s gaze sharpened immediately. “Ciel… where are your glasses?”
“That’s your concern?” William muttered under his breath, arching a brow.
Sebastian silenced him with a look before focusing entirely on Ciel. “I meant what I said earlier about enjoying yourself—but if you drink beyond your limit, you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
“I like you!” Ciel suddenly blurted, words tumbling out clumsily.
William had to physically press his lips together to suppress a laugh. “Oh, this is priceless. A drunken confession. What are you going to do now, Professor?”
A faint blush spread across Sebastian’s pale cheeks as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ciel, where is Sieglinde? I should call her to collect you. I don’t want you saying something you’ll regret in the morning.”
“I like you,” Ciel repeated stubbornly, stepping closer. “I like you like you.”
He grabbed the front of Sebastian’s shirt, pulling him forward with surprising boldness.
“I want to kiss you,” Ciel went on, voice low and reckless. “Hold your hand. Be close to you. I think about you constantly in your lectures. It’s unbearable.”
The words poured out without restraint.
Sebastian’s eyes widened. He gently tried to ease Ciel’s grip. “You’re not in a state to be saying any of this.”
Instead, Ciel closed the distance further, placing a hand against Sebastian’s thigh.
William made a small choking sound behind them. “Oh dear.”
Ciel’s composure had entirely dissolved. His cheeks were flushed, breath warm with alcohol, gaze fixed on Sebastian with an intensity that bordered on desperate. To him, Sebastian seemed like the only solid thing in the spinning room.
He leaned close, voice brushing Sebastian’s ear. “I think about you wanting me. About you pulling me into your office, losing that perfect composure. About not being your student anymore, just—just someone you want.”
His hand slid higher before Sebastian swiftly caught his wrist.
“Ciel,” Sebastian said sharply, though his own voice trembled faintly. “That’s enough.”
“But if I don’t say it now, I never will,” Ciel insisted, trying to push him back toward the seat. In his unsteady state he nearly climbed into Sebastian’s lap, only to slip awkwardly, leg brushing at a very particular organ.
Sebastian jolted at the contact, face now unmistakably red.
Ciel blinked down at him, a slow, intoxicated smile forming. “Professor… are you flustered?”
William cleared his throat loudly. “Sebastian. I strongly suggest you regain control of this situation before someone decides to start filming.”
That snapped Sebastian fully back to awareness.
He placed both hands firmly on Ciel’s shoulders and gently but decisively pushed him back to arm’s length. “You need to stop,” he said, forcing a strained laugh. “Right now.”
Ciel pouted faintly, still swaying. “Why? We could go somewhere else. A hotel, maybe. I wouldn’t mind.”
Sebastian’s expression shifted—serious now, protective rather than tempted.
“You’re drunk,” he said quietly. “And I am your lecturer. This conversation ends here.”
Ciel whined rubbing his ruddy cheek on a failing Sebastian's chest.
“C-Ciel, we can’t. Not like this. You’re drunk.”
Sebastian rose from his seat, hands steady on Ciel’s shoulders to keep him from swaying too dangerously. The music throbbed around them, but his voice lowered into something far more intimate as he leaned close to Ciel’s ear.
“You should tell me these things when you’re sober,” he murmured quietly.
Even through the haze of alcohol, Ciel recognised that tone—that subtle shift from composed lecturer to something warmer, something edged with restraint. And the look in Sebastian’s dark eyes… it made his breath hitch.
Ciel flushed deeply and stumbled back a step. “I—I need to get my things,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll be back. It’s fine, really. We can go somewhere else. I just have to tell Sieglinde.” He turned, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to walk.
“Ciel! Wait—don’t wander off like that,” Sebastian called, frustration slipping into his voice.
He exhaled sharply and reached for his jacket from the chair.
William watched with open amusement, arms folded across his chest. “You must really like him.”
Sebastian didn’t hesitate. “I do,” he admitted, pulling the jacket over his shoulders. A small, almost helpless smile appeared. “He’s… captivating.”
William’s grin widened. “Perhaps you’re the one who’s had the crush all along.”
Sebastian gave a low laugh. “If I’m honest, I noticed him from my first week at the university. He’s intelligent, thoughtful, far kinder than most people realise. Always attentive. And yes,” he added with a smirk, “I would be lying if I claimed I hadn’t noticed how attractive he is.”
William gasped theatrically. “So you were admiring your student! I knew it.”
“Can you blame me?” Sebastian replied, lowering his voice. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to maintain the image of the flawless lecturer? Smiling politely, remaining detached, pretending not to be affected. Especially when he sits barely a few feet away.” He sighed. “It requires remarkable discipline not to lose focus mid-lecture.”
William chuckled. “You are doing an impressive job hiding that more… perverted side of you.”
Sebastian lifted a brow. “I am perfectly respectable.”
“Of course you are,” William said dryly. “And I’m royalty.”
He tilted his head toward the direction Ciel had gone. “Though judging by that confession, I doubt he’d be entirely opposed to seeing that side.”
Sebastian’s expression darkened thoughtfully, a finger briefly touching his lips. “He’s shy. Painfully so. But there’s something beneath that restraint. And I would very much like to understand it.”
William rolled his eyes. “And what exactly are you planning? Don’t tell me you’re about to do something reckless.”
Sebastian straightened. “He’s intoxicated. I’m making sure he gets back safely. That’s all.”
“Mhm,” William hummed skeptically. "You do plan to come back home tonight right?"
Sebastian shot him a look but couldn’t suppress a faint, conspiratorial smile. “I will handle it.... appropriately.”
With that, he gave William a brief wave and disappeared into the crowded dance floor, eyes scanning the shifting sea of bodies in search of one very unsteady, very captivating student.