If I had accepted that twisted affection, would he be my private paradise? Or will he be a hell much worse than I am in now?

Hate me Alois. Hate me than feel nothing at all.

A/N: Third Fan fiction! Whew… I want to finish Entangling Escape instead of writing this, but it's not getting enough reviews to fuel the author in me : ( Review please!

This is my way of saying, suck it Claude! How dare you kill my favorite character? You *# %* #!

If you want Claude back with Alois, Review!

If you don't want him back, Review!

I take suggestions, critiques etc... tell me if I suck... And what shall I do to improve my writing skill..

Warning: OOC, modern time settings, and awful plot

Remorse:

Houhe o Taraluna, Ron de Rotare... Houhe o Taraluna, Ron de Rotare... Houhe o Taraluna, Ron de Rotare...

That's why we rarely sleep. Nightmares. No, more like a flashback of the past. A long, long record of tears, laughter, hatred and sorrow that haunt us from the deepest depths of our non-existent soul. They say hell is a place filled with fire, torture and gnashing of teeth to the brim. It could be true, in a way, the hell where our lord, Satan rules can be compared to the description above. But I suffer in a different hell.

My hell is regret, a pointless echo of what could've been. I find it quite too twisted for my taste. As a demon, it is only natural to be shrew, to be conniving. We are expected to be cruel. A soft demon? That is an insult. An unforgivable taunt. Call me names, but never associate soft with Claude Faustus.

I rose from the soft canopy bed, draped with black velvet sheets, adorned with gold silk feather pillows. I let my eyes roam across the room painted with a tasteful shade of ecru, as if looking for something distorted. Finding none, I stepped out of the bed, slightly shaky from the dream. With long strides, I made my way to the huge mirror with a gold-plated frame. I still look the same. Golden orbs look back at me, with the same empty stare as my own. The black curls that falls idly from my head, slightly brushing against my cheeks. Creamy complexion and firm abdominal muscles. Who am I during the Victorian era, is still the same here at 21st century.

The self-conviction drops in vain. I did change. I've become more subtle, more vulnerable, and more human. Human? Hah! A demon such as me has no right to feel emotions such as love, pain, sadness or guilt. I am wired to live based on my instincts, and react only to survive. Look at Sebastian Michaelis, he who has given up everything for his bocchan. He's a fool. Bound for eternity, intertwined with complicated emotions, that makes him less of a demon. I know most comrades would agree with me on this one. Never mind that he's happy and contented, and I'm bored and miserable. No. I don't mind it at all.

I was greeted by the glaring sun by the time I exited the condominium building, an indication that it's already 9 in the morning. Taking my time, I walked towards the black Lamborghini, intending to drive it to our meeting place, a five-star hotel in the heart of Manhattan. I have a meeting with a few prospects for the business I currently own, Prominence Estates. I am currently a business man, famous for being a multi-millionaire at a 'young age'. Humans can be quick to judge based on physical appearance, but it worked to my advantage. My age is a secret I'll never tell.

My black Android mobile phone beeped and I answered the call. Just great. The prospect, monsieur Beau Pre just cancelled the meeting and rescheduled it next week. Nothing to do for the day, I drove around New York to past the time. A few kilometers north of the Times Square, is a café that piqued my interest. It's so French, and I raised a brow in confusion and admiration. America is mostly fast-food chains and vending machines or Italian restaurants. I parked the vehicle and entered the shop.

The moment I pushed the glass door, pink and peach dominated the place. It's tastefully decorated; the furniture reminds me of Versailles. It's a patisserie. In the air, I can recognize the fragrance of chocolate, stone fruits and cookies baking in the kitchen's oven. The display of cakes and desserts are astounding as well, the delicacies with pretty decorations of rosettes and whipped cream. But with confidence, I can say I make better sweets than the chef here.

I took a seat next to the window, a very intimate spot. The menu, made with blue crafted embossed paper caught my eye, and I engrossed myself in deciding what to order.

"Bonjour, monsieur, can I take your order?" a high-pitched male asked as I'm scanning the menu, pondering whether I'll have chocolate mousse or crème brûlée. I looked up, intending to order the latter when I felt numb from shock. Soft blonde wispy hair styled nonchalantly to the side. Pink lips moving seductively as he talk. Icy blue eyes that's both piercing and endearing. And the slim feminine body emphasized by his ivory skin. It couldn't be…

"A-Alois?" for the first time in my existence, I stuttered. I gulped and adjusted the spectacles on my face to divert my attention.

The youth raised a brow and curled his raspberry lips in a pout. "Sir, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My name's Alley." He pointed at the name plate with one black lacquered finger. "Alejandro Tracy. Not Alois." A blue eye winked and he flipped out a small notebook.

"Now let me take that order okay? Strawberry soufflé is awesome." I cleared my throat and ordered what he suggested, my voice raspy and hushed. He skipped to the kitchen cheerfully and left me at daze. I closed my gaping mouth and shook my head vigorously, trying to get back to the reality.

I've been missing him for hundreds of years. This itchy, awkward pang of conscience called guilt. I need to ease the resonance of his past. Alois… or Alejandro. It doesn't matter. I need him to free myself from the ghastly ricochet that binds his soul to me. I breathe the air harshly, filling my lungs with unnecessary oxygen and his addicting scent. I inhaled the remnants of the musky perfume that lingered. It's a different fragrance, yet it still retains the déjà vu.

Alois came back with the dessert, his hips swaying and lips smirking as he strutted to my table. The baby blue beret that matches his eyes perfectly, purple polo shirt that barely covers his torso, the black shorts that reached mid thigh, it fits snugly on his soft ivory legs. He is- adorable. The reincarnated teen gracefully placed the soufflé on the table, expertly balancing the tray with one hand. The tea and the dessert smelled divine, but perhaps it's his presence that influences my senses abnormally. The blonde head bowed politely and exclaimed. "bon appétit! "

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't notice him leave. The innocence in his eyes. I can almost taste his soul, purified with the new life breathe unto him by divine fate. But the past life that broke him, the past life that connected him to me, still lingers. It tainted him permanently. Just the way demons preferred their meal.

The foreign innocence of his new life makes his soul better than Ciel.

You want more? Review baby! Here's the thing:

5 reviews= new chapter in Alois POV

10 reviews= 2 chapters

15 reviews= lemony sweetness

If I don't get reviews, it means people aren't interested with this thingy. Then what's the point in writing, right? Trust me, it's going to be goooood and we will make Claude suffer for killing poor Alois!

Olé!