And She Wasn't a Stalker

[Sitruuna]

...it's inspired by a skype chat...'''

And I'm sorry I didn't work on it a little more. n___n'''

Anyway, the point is that... our demonic butler no. 2 isn't feeling all that well... I think he's fully lost his voice, though I didn't mention it here even once... And there totally wasn't a stalker woman to withness his misery. B| LoL

And... there's a slight possibility I might write more if anyone's interested and I'm inspired. u___u So please, leave a comment if you read this, mnu? xP

Author: Sitruuna, a.k.a. psyxstar

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji II

Character(s): Claude (and a female OC who mostly serves a part as the narrator)

It was a rainy November day in London when I saw him. He was dressed in fine clothes, apparently running errands then (everything in him told me he was the butler of some high-standing family). I just couldn’t ignore him. There’s no way I could have done that. His face, all handsome yet dark and somehow threatening, captured my eyes and my attention. He was tall and fair skinned, with dark hair and eyes which I could have sworn to be yellow, rectangular glasses on top of his well-shaped nose. You know, I just can’t help myself when I see man like that.

Don’t take me wrongly, I’m not a stalker. But sometimes I just have to know more about a person who I see out there. I know I shouldn’t mind their lives. I should just concentrate on my own one, but sometimes it just doesn’t satisfy me. My own life is rather boring, every day the same and never anything thrilling or exciting. So I followed him out of the post office when he left it.

By then I had noticed the strange touch of red on his cheeks. No fine man I had seen during my 31 years of living in England had had that kind of colour on their face in the cold weather of late autumn or early winter, save for my old uncle who is not in such a good bodily condition anymore. And it wasn’t only that which had made me wonder if he was feeling all good – he hadn’t said a word while dealing with the man at the post office though every “hello” and “thank you” is important when you are talking to other people. No one likes rude people. No one who I know, at least.

I got my first real evidence of how he was feeling while we were walking down the street. I don’t think he meant to do so but at times he let out a small cough or almost fell in to a fit of coughing but not quite. I think he tried and wanted to hide it. Yes, he most definitely tried to keep out of other people’s notice, but I could definitely hear the quiet but congested sound of it and see his shoulders moving slightly in a held-back way with every inhale and exhale. I didn’t like the sound of it and I just know that mister Burnley, my family’s physician, wouldn’t have been pleased with it either. He would have dug out his stethoscope and listened to the man’s lungs and heart and done all those other things that he as a physician always seems to do. And though I don’t know for sure, I think that mister Burnley would have ordered to make the man stay in bed for a while instead of letting him run around the city of London taking care of his master’s errands.

I don’t think I even need to say I was worried about him or how my worry grew when I noticed how tired and in pain he looked when no one was supposed to see. Like I already said, he was handsome. He was handsome and far too young to die due to some kind of a lung disease – or anything else for that matter.

I was getting desperate to hear his voice, hoping to find no evidence of illness from it, when he finally entered a local bakery. I didn’t dare to follow him in since he would definitely have noticed me in a small place like that. No, I waited outside pretending to be a one of the other women standing near the bakery gossiping so I couldn’t hear a trace of his voice. Apparently the baker didn’t let him go with as few words as the post officer had, judging by the way the old man behind the counter acted when I peeked in through the window. If the old man’s face, actions and body language were to be trusted the handsome one didn’t sound any better than what he had seemed to be feeling; the baker was being cautious, obviously trying to be saved from what the other man had.

I am sure there was a hint of displeasure and irritation on the man’s face when he exited the bakery. Maybe it was the fact that he had had to open his mouth and speak out loud to the older man, maybe it was due to having to leave the warmth of the indoors and welcome the chilly, rainy weather again. Something told me he wasn’t too pleased with either. And the chilly air seemed to cause him a new kind of inconvenience. Right after the walking down the couple of low steps that lead from the door he had just come out of, he halted. I could see some signs of the battle inside of him on his face, such as a little twitch of his eye brows just as a flare of his nostrils and the way his lips parted slightly and closed then parted again as he was forced to inhale sharply (though the act was quite restrained).

“Hh-tche!” the air came out as sharply as it had been sucked in. The man gave a small, discreet rub to his nose, clearly planning on leaving all such inconvenient acts to that, but his body just didn’t seem to agree with him. Despite the fact that he clearly did not want so, the man sneezed twice more and after every small explosion a look of pain visited his face. He even went as far as to raise his hand to touch his throat. If you ask me it seems strange that he would have done that after so desperately trying to keep all this to himself. But maybe it was something he hadn’t even thought about, like the sniffles he gave after every sneeze and that continued for several minutes after he had continued walking towards his next stop.

He walked rather fast after the sneezes. Maybe the cold was getting to him. Maybe it was sinking deeper to his bones than earlier. Maybe he just wanted to get out of the city and its people and back to where ever his master or mistress was waiting for his services. Hopefully he had just remembered the bed and the opportunity to lie down on it, but I highly doubt that was the case. In any case we kind of hurried down the streets of London and past its people. At the Twinings’ store he stopped, glanced at both right and left and went in. Again I waited outside close enough to a group of middle aged ladies to be mistaken as one of them but still far enough for them to not pay any attention to me. This time I didn’t take my eyes off of the man and saw him sneeze again as he entered to store. I am pretty sure acts like sneezing are something he wouldn’t want to do as the first thing after entering a place, but apparently his nose doesn’t like sudden changes of the surrounding temperature. Not on that day, at least, and probably not on a few the days that followed and on some of the days that had already passed.

I could have sworn that his eyes stopped at me for a second when he exited the store and looked around. I was probably just imagining that, he couldn’t have noticed that I had followed. Yes, he had to have looked at the ladies standing next to me or maybe someone who passed us right at that moment. Well, who ever he looked at he didn’t look at for a long time. Even if he would have wanted to (which I doubt) he had once again hid his face in his gloved hand with a jerk of his head and the sharp sound of a sneeze (“Hh-xtch!” or something pretty close to that). The pain found its way to his face again, not for a long time but long enough for me to have time to notice it.

At this point he had found a handkerchief to cover the lower parts of his nose with. It wasn’t another sneeze that had made him look for it. No, he wiped the skin beneath his nose and right around his nostrils, sniffled and wiped again. …and then he sneezed into it. Like all the previous ones it sounded like it ripped his throat (which, judging by the look on his face his throat might have very, very sore so that it might have really hurt to sneeze like that) but this time the sound was less restrained and definitely wetter. The man didn’t look exactly pleased.

If he had walked hastily before entering Twinings’ store then the pace he had now was almost as if he would have been running, only he didn’t run but walk. I, on the other hand, had to run to keep up. And I had thought that he wasn’t feeling well! Maybe there just was no fatigue? In any case we strode through London, some people turning their heads to take a look.

He continued his way to some slightly smaller alley and I couldn’t help wondering where he was going. Of course I should have thought twice before following him there. I should have thought that maybe there’s something just a tiny bit off at this, but I didn’t even slower my steps when I entered the alley behind him. There wasn’t a lot of other people there and he slowed down. That was good, running there in order to not fall behind would have been a slight bit too obvious. And even if I hadn’t hesitated before I did stop and take a peek around the corner when he took the turn from one empty alley to another.

I couldn’t see him there which made me suddenly feel cold allover. I would have heard him open and close any of the doors he could have got at in that time. How could he just have disappeared? I stepped to the alley and looked closer. He definitely wasn’t there. Had he noticed me? But that didn’t explain where he had gone…

It was a rainy November day in London when I saw him. He was dressed in fine clothes, apparently running errands for his master or mistress (everything in him told me he was the butler of some high-standing family). I just couldn’t ignore him. There’s no way I could have done that. His face, all handsome yet dark and somehow threatening, captured my eyes and my attention. He was tall and fair skinned, with dark hair and eyes which I could have sworn to be yellow, rectangular glasses on top of his well-shaped nose. You know, I just can’t help myself when I see man like that.

Don’t take me wrongly, I’m not a stalker, but sometimes I just have to know more about a person who I see out there. I know I shouldn’t mind their lives. I should just concentrate on my own one, but it just doesn’t always satisfy me. My life is rather boring, every day the same and never anything thrilling or exciting… Oh yes, I followed him out of the post office when he left it.

By then I had noticed the strange touch of red on his cheeks. No fine man I had seen during my 31 years of living in England had had that kind of colour on their face in the cold weather of late autumn or early winter, save for my old uncle who is not in such a good bodily condition anymore. And it wasn’t only that which had made me wonder if he was feeling all good – he hadn’t said a word while dealing with the man at the post office though every “hello” and “thank you” is important when you are talking to other people. No one likes rude people. No one who I know, at least.

I got my first real evidence of how he was feeling while we were walking down the street. I don’t think he meant to do so but at times he let out a small cough or almost fell in to a fit of coughing but not quite. I think he tried and wanted to hide it. Yes, he most definitely tried to keep it out of other people’s notice, but I could definitely hear the quiet but congested sound of the cough and see his shoulders moving slightly in a held-back way with every inhale and exhale. I didn’t like the sound of it and I just know that mister Burnley, my family’s physician, wouldn’t have been pleased with it either. He would have got out his stethoscope and listened to the man’s lungs and heart and done all those other things that he as a physician always seems to do. And though I don’t know for sure, I think that mister Burnley would have ordered the man stay in bed for a while instead of letting him run around the city of London taking care of his master’s errands.

I don’t think I even need to say I was worried about him or how my worry grew when I noticed how tired and in pain he looked when no one was supposed to see. Like I already said, he was handsome. He was handsome and far too young to die due to some kind of a lung disease – or anything else for that matter.

I was getting desperate to hear his voice, hoping to find no evidence of illness from it, when he finally entered a local bakery. I didn’t dare to follow him in since he would definitely have noticed me in a small place like that. No, I waited outside pretending to be one of the other women standing near the bakery gossiping and so I couldn’t hear a trace of his voice. Apparently the baker didn’t let him go with as few words as the post officer had, judging by the way the old man behind the counter acted when I peeked in through the window. If the old man’s face, actions and body language were to be trusted the handsome one didn’t sound any better than what he had seemed to be feeling; the baker was being cautious, obviously trying to be saved from what the other man had.

I am sure there was a hint of displeasure and irritation on the man’s face when he exited the bakery. Maybe it was the fact that he had had to open his mouth and speak out loud to the older man, maybe it was due to having to leave the warmth of the indoors and welcome the chilly, rainy weather again. Something told me he wasn’t too pleased with either of the facts. And the chilly air seemed to cause him a new kind of inconvenience on top of the obvious part of feeling cold. Right after walking down the couple of low steps that lead from the door he had just come out of, he halted. I could see some signs of the battle inside of him on his face, such as a little twitch of his eye brows and a flare of his nostrils and the way his lips parted slightly and closed, then parted again as he was forced to inhale sharply (though the act was quite restrained).

“Hh-tche!” the air came out as sharply as it had been sucked in. The man gave a small, discreet rub to his nose, clearly planning on leaving all such inconvenient acts to that, but his body just didn’t seem to agree with him. Despite the fact that he clearly did not want to do so, the man sneezed twice more and after every small explosion a look of pain visited his face. He even went as far as to raise his hand to touch his throat. If you ask me it seems strange that he would have done that after so desperately trying to keep all this to himself. But maybe it was something he hadn’t even thought about, like the sniffles that came after every sneeze and that continued for several minutes after he had started to walk again towards his next destination.

He walked rather hastily after the sneezes. Maybe the cold was getting to him. Maybe it was sinking deeper to his bones than earlier. Maybe he just wanted to get out of the city and its people and back to where ever his master or mistress was waiting for his services. Hopefully he had just remembered the bed and the opportunity to lie down on it, but I highly doubt that was the case. Anyway, we kind of hurried down the streets of London and past its people. At the Twinings’ store he stopped, glanced at both right and left and went in. Again I waited outside close enough to a group of middle aged ladies to be mistaken as one of them but still far enough for them to not pay any attention to me. This time I didn’t take my eyes off of the man and saw him sneeze again as he entered to store. I am pretty sure acts like sneezing are something he wouldn’t want to do as the first thing after entering a place, but apparently his nose doesn’t like sudden changes of the surrounding temperature. Not on that day, at least, and probably not on a few of the following days and on some that had already passed.

I could have sworn that his eyes stopped at me for a second when he exited the store and looked around. I was probably just imagining that, he couldn’t have noticed that I had followed. Yes, he had to have looked at the ladies standing next to me or maybe someone who passed us right at that moment. Well, whoever he looked at he didn’t look at for a long time. Even if he would have wanted to (which I doubt) he had once again hid his face in his gloved hand with a jerk of his head and the sharp sound of a sneeze (“Hh-xtch!” or something pretty close to that). The pain found its way to his face again, not for a long time but long enough for me to have time to notice it.

At this point he had found a handkerchief to cover the lower parts of his nose with. It wasn’t another sneeze that had made him look for it, no. He wiped the skin beneath his nose and right around his nostrils, sniffled and wiped again. …and then he sneezed into it. Like all the previous ones it sounded like it ripped through his throat (which, judging by the look on his face might have been very, very sore so that it might have really hurt to sneeze like that) but this time the sound was less restrained and definitely wetter. The man didn’t look exactly pleased.

If he had walked hastily before entering that Twinings’ store then the pace he had now was almost as if he would have been running, only he didn’t run but walk. I, on the other hand, had to run to keep up. And I had thought that he wasn’t feeling well! Maybe there just was no fatigue? In any case we strode through London, some people turning their heads to take a look.

He continued his way to some slightly smaller alley and I couldn’t help wondering where he was going. Of course I should have thought twice before following him there. I should have thought that maybe there’s something just a tiny bit off at this, but I didn’t even slower my steps when I entered the alley behind him. There weren’t a lot of other people there and he slowed down. That was good, running there in order to not fall behind would have been a slight bit too obvious.

Even if I hadn’t hesitated before I did stop and take a peek around the corner when he took another turn from one empty alley to another. I couldn’t see him there which made me suddenly feel cold allover. I would have heard him open and close any of the doors he could have reached in that time. How could he just have disappeared? I stepped to the alley and looked closer. He definitely wasn’t there. Had he noticed me? But that didn’t explain where he had gone…

....Okay I'm pretty nervous about posting this thing here... >_____>

Don't be too harsh on me. xD

[R.L]

Because Claude is actually hot as hell.

[Sitruuna]

Because Claude is actually hot as hell.

You posted the pic~ x3

Have I ever mentioned I love it~?

[Akahana]

OHMAIGOD where has this been all my life?!?! <3

[Ciuty80]

how could i actually miss this awesome story?!?!??!

so WONDERFUL!!!

thank you!

Edited January 4, 2013 by Ciuty80

[Sitruuna]

...

xD

I had thought that okay, so it wasn't all that interesting then but... Now you two commented. xD

Thank you for your comments~ They are well appreciated. (:

And good if you like it~

it was right there in the middle of the other stories. ;3;