#tw nonconsenual medical procedure

[riahlynn101]

Ai-less Whumptober 2024 - Day Nineteen: "Dissociation" + "I Wish I Could Get You Back."

Fandom: Black Butler

Word count: 1,628

Trigger warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced canonical character death, small amounts of blood, past trauma, and implied non-consensual medical procedure.

Switching days once again

(This will probably warrant a pt. 2)

--

Their reunion was a long time coming. Years in the making, in fact, and something that Ciel had been looking forward to since he regained sentience. He sits at his desk, awaiting the arrival of his brother. 

He looks at the childhood picture of his twin and him. Mister Pitt had been most agreeable about reprinting the photo, especially when Ciel bailed him out of all the potential legal fees for harboring two fugitives. 

He looks at the past version of himself. It feels like a lifetime ago, and Ciel has a hard time recognizing himself in the black and white photograph. But more than that - more than the gut-wrenching feeling that he can never truly be the person, the child, he once was - Ciel recognizes his little twin even less. 

Cedric was the sweet but shy one. He was the one that always had a kind word to say about everyone, or a hand to reach out to those that needed it. If not for his constant bouts of sickness, Ciel has no doubts that he would have been loved by anyone and everyone. 

But, unfortunately for the populace of England and his brother’s confidence, Cedric was sick. As a result his social skills suffered greatly, and even when he got somewhat better, he remained glued to Ciel’s side at parties and other social obligations. And if he wasn’t available to cling to, Cedric liked to use their father as a shield against talkative guests. Not that their father minded having to hold Cedric’s hand. He actually seemed to enjoy being able to do at least that for him (seeing as their father hardly ever got to see Cedric). 

“Get your bloody hands off me!”

Ciel smiles. He glances at the rattling doorknob. It’s earlier than he would have expected, but he’s never been one to look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

Polaris opens the door. Cedric struggles in his arms, kicking and flailing. It’s entertaining to watch, but Ciel would rather his brother didn’t get worked up. Undertaker told him that Cedric didn’t seem to be as sick as he used to. However, there exists an unwavering fear within him, one that was placed in him after seeing his brother lie pale and still and suffering from nausea and coughing fits.

“Calm yourself,” he commands. 

“Bastard!” His brother continues his insistent wriggling. He manages to hit Polaris’ face at one point. In response, he is dropped unceremoniously on the floor. His body makes a loud thud against the wood, and his little brother gasps.

Ciel stands from his chair. He rounds the large desk, hands clasped behind his back. “Careful,” he remarks. Polaris seems to shake in rage. It doesn’t take much to rile the other star lord up, and he knows his brother can be a handful. But still…

Not wanting to have to protect his twin from a fellow bizarre doll, Ciel dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “You may go.”

Only when he’s sure that Polaris has left, does he bend down. “Let’s get you off the floor.” He reaches for his brother’s hand. 

“Don’t touch me!” Cedric shouts, throwing himself into a sitting position. He eyes Ciel suspiciously. “Don’t touch me.”

“Little brother,” he tries. Undertaker had warned him that it wouldn’t be easy, but he never imagined that Cedric would be afraid of him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cedric shakes his head. “You can’t promise that.”

There had once been a time in their lives where Ciel would have laughed at how silly his brother is being. The very idea that he would ever cause intentional harm to Cedric was one of the very few things he could confidently say he never did, but now…

“I can’t,” he starts, sitting on his haunches across from his brother, “but I don’t want to.”

“Don’t want to isn’t equivalent to not going to.”

Ciel sighs, frustrated that his reunion with his brother isn’t going as planned. But as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Maybe he needs to try a different approach. 

“I don’t have any plans to hurt you.”

“You called Scotland Yard on me.”

Ciel considers this. “Active plans.”

“Then, what do you want?”

“To talk.” And to stay with you forever. And save you from that blasted demon. “That’s all.”

“That’s….all?”

Ciel hums. “That’s right.” He gets to his feet, brushing off his shorts. “Now if it’s okay with you, I would much prefer talking off the floor.” He reaches down to help Cedric off the floor, but his brother ignores his outstretched hand. 

Anger burns through him, and it must flash in his eyes, because Cedric takes a step away from him. And that doesn’t help his anger. 

He grits his teeth, turning away from his brother. “Sit. Down.”

Cedric listens, thankfully, and he manages to push down his annoyance at his twin’s insolence.

“First thing,” Ciel says, sitting down in the armchair opposite his very obviously shaken brother, “how have you been?”

“Better,” Cedric answers. 

Ciel raises his eyebrows, as if imploring his brother to return the favor.

“And you? How have you been, Ciel?” The name seems to get stuck in his brother’s throat. It must feel strange having to use the name he used himself these past three years. 

“Better,” he says. “Undertaker did marvelous work.”

He pays attention to the slight movements of his brother’s face. The wrinkle in between his brows, and the slight hesitation before he nods along. The way his eyes seem to either stare over Ciel’s shoulders or down at his lap. Like he’s trying to prescript his movements, mentally checking out. Like sitting down and chatting with Ciel is the worst thing since their time with the cult. 

He sucks in a breath. “Look at me,” he demands, hands forming fists. 

Cedric looks up from his lap, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

Ciel smooths his hands over his shorts, forcing himself to relax. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Just….be mindful.” He isn’t quite sure what mindful means in this case, but he’s sure his brother can figure it out. 

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, did you enjoy Weston? I, myself, only got to experience the bare minimum. I saw you in the tournament, of course, but were the classes as hard as father said? What about the food? Were people kind to you?”

“It was fine, I suppose. Sebastian makes better food, and-” 

Whatever else his brother said was blocked out by Ciel’s own raging thoughts. It’s not that he hates that his brother was taken care of, and even seems to have found some enjoyment in the demon’s cooking, but it’s that the demon is such a staple in Cedric’s life that he just has to come up in every conversation. 

There’s a buzzing in his ears, and his brother’s, his best friend since birth, voice is drowned out by his own racing thoughts. 

His first memory, Ciel is certain, was of his brother. 

And his last was the same. Small hands, the same as his own, reaching out for him. His eyes wide and movements frantic as he watched Ciel be sacrificed by those awful, awful people. Helpless and in immediate danger. 

As an older brother, Ciel knows he failed Cedric. 

Sweet and shy Cedric. 

Because this person sitting across from him is not Cedric. Whatever happened between his death and rebirth made his brother cold and callused. 

And it breaks his heart that there isn’t a single thing he can do about it. 

Ciel interrupts his brother, sorrow-filled words tumbling from his mouth, “I wish I could get you back.”

His brother tenses up. “But…I’m here.”

“You’re not you.” Ciel laughs a little, feeling dizzy. He’s not sure if that’s possible. “You’re not my Cedric.” He gets to his feet and strolls over to the door. 

“Well, because I’m not,” is Cedric’s nervous reply. Ciel can hear the shakiness in his words. How his breath comes out a little faster than normal. A part of him wants to go to his brother and comfort him, but Ciel knows now that Undertaker was right. 

He opens the door and peeks out into the hall. “Undertaker,” he calls out. “We may proceed with your original plan.”

Behind him, he hears Cedric get up from the chair. “What are you doing?” He asks. 

Ciel shuts the door, and by the time he turns around to face his brother again, Undertaker is standing behind Cedric. “There you are,” he says. 

“Sorry, m’lord, was a little busy with the butler.”

“Sebastian,” Cedric gasps. He looks Undertaker up and down, taking in his bloodied robes and lack of any visible injuries. “Is he….did you…?” 

Undertaker clicks his tongue. “Never mind that, Little Phantomhive. That demon is none of your concern now.” He regards Ciel. “So, you wish to go along with my plan? I can’t guarantee your brother will survive it, but I can guarantee that it will save his soul.”

Cedric shakes his head. “Wh-what? Ciel? No?” He moves towards the door, hand already reaching out for the doorknob. 

He ignores his brother for a moment. “Do what you think is best. I leave my brother’s fate up to you.”

Ciel steps aside to allow Undertaker to grab his brother up. He fights, biting and clawing, but ultimately he’s not a match for Undertaker’s supernatural strength. Cedric cries, being carried from the room. 

He looks back at Ciel as the door closes. The look in his single, uncovered eye, is one that Ciel hopes to never see again. Betrayal reflected in Phantomhive blue. 

But he knows that this is for the best. 

It has to be.

Ciel can’t handle failing his little brother a second time.