The Fine Line

So it’s taking me a looooong while to format of these as HTML. It’s about 55, 56 chapters, maybe I’ll post like, 5 a day :D

Disclaimer of Despondency: If I owned D.Gray-Man, it would be full of horrid spelling errors. Just like my fic.

Forgiveness

Allen had found the paper in his pocket on the train, badly crumpled, but still readable. It was written on rice paper in a delicately masculine script, the care taken in just putting the letters on paper must have been astounding. But it wasn’t the writing that shook him; it was knowing that someone was sly enough to get the paper in his pocket without his knowledge. Allen thought of himself as observant when it came to his person (if nothing else), so who could have put it there without him feeling it?

When he started reading it, how it got there did not seem important at all.

Moyashi-kun, the letter began. Moyashi-kun? No one called him that. No one at all. Not Kanda, not Lavi, not even Komui. That wasn’t helpful as to the writer’s identity at all.

It might seem odd for me to write you like this, but I do not see what else to do. You and I have not grown closer in your time at the Order and that disheartens me to an extent, though I would never say so aloud. What I mean to say, Moyashi, is that I care for you. I trust you. I want to spend time with you. I want you near me. I want nothing more than to (and here Allen sank low in his seat, praying that the quiet Japanese man on the seat across from him would not look up from his paperwork) wrap my arms around you and keep you safe. This knowledge is not something I have come completely to terms with, so please understand my reserve and my silence.

Burn this after you read it. For my sake.

After that there was a simple signature composed of two kanji symbols and two katakana symbols, then two words in perfect, English cursive: Kanda Yuu.

The curses that went through Allen’s head only served to block out whatever it was Kanda had chosen to say at that moment in time. What was he trying to do by talking anyway? Send Allen into a shock induced seizure? He was already hyperventilating. Already feeling somewhat light headed. He seriously did not need Kanda to act like nothing was going on to help him with his mental problem.

But forget Kanda for a second, how did Allen feel?

He likes me. He seriously likes me. His brain chanted over and over and over, not bothering to draw a solid conclusion about what that meant exactly. Okay, so Kanda likes me. But HOW?

“Moyashi,” The topic of Allen’s thoughts at last interrupted him, standing up as he spoke. Allen leapt out of surprise, the rice paper note was crushed in his fist when his head came into contact with the luggage rack. He stuffed it in his chest pocket while nursing his head, electing to just pretend he hadn’t read it yet than deal with the consequences later.

“Huh, what?” He chimed with his best nothing-to-see-here-smile. Kanda glared at him with normal intensity, dark blue eyes seeming to scan him to his soul.

Kanda sighed to himself. Allen was seriously out of it to have missed two death threats and a suggestion that he just starve to death. “We’ve arrived. We should get off the train if you’re going to eat anything for lunch.”

That made Allen’s already bright face brighter. The more Kanda looked at him the more joy Kanda saw in him, and the more he wanted to both smile and kick him. Kanda liked dark things, things that were quiet and methodical, not noisy, clumsy, obnoxious, vibrant, happy, enthusiastic, Allen-like things. Yet there was a contradiction there too, with Lavi being his best friend and all. But looking at Allen and comparing him to Lavi was like looking at a cloud and comparing it to a rainbow; they were both bright, but only the one offered a silver lining.

So he picked up both of their bags while Allen was smiling at him like an idiot, white hair falling over his sparkling eyes without him caring. Allen protested but Kanda was not going to listen. A love poem, a ridiculous smile, wandering thoughts – such things could not be ignored without causing problems for everyone.

“Shut up, Moyashi,” He glanced back through his veil of dark hair, willing himself not to look soft. “You’re too slow without me.”
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Sable wiped the steam from her bathroom mirror with a shaking hand, silently cursing both Lavi and Lenalee for putting her up to this. She did not want to abuse her Innocence – not that it was abusing being she honestly wanted to make sure that Kanda and Allen were alright – and she was not used to this power yet. It had developed a few days after she had come to the order, while being curious about her brother Uri.

Simply put, she had seen him in the reflection of her mirror. He had been seated at a desk by a fire, writing one of his books, his gold hair hanging down so that it blocked his eyes from the light. She didn’t need to see them to know that they were the same color as hers, deep green, and round and wide set. They were twins after all. His boney hand had scribbled at the page as if his life depended on it, his lips were pressed together with concentration.

The image had faded after a few moments and no sound had accompanied it. Just seeing him, though, had put a smile on her face for the rest of the day.

Gently she put a hand on either side of the mirror and let out her breath, trying not to look at the scraggly mess that was her hair. She’d taken a shower and dressed herself fast enough to keep the steam in tacked, because for some reason it seemed to make seeing easier.

Kanda-san. She thought commandingly. Allen-chan. She thought directly after. Show me them.

She felt her Innocence respond from its place in her forehead, the scar that marked its presence let off a faint green light. The reflection before her faded into nothing as the scene came to light.

Kanda and Allen were sharing a table outside of a restaurant, the first looking bored, the other looking very enthralled with the menu. She was looking at them from across the street, like her eyes were the reflection of shop window that on one was looking at, someplace away from the afternoon light. The two of them were talking, but she couldn’t hear them.

Well, She thought with a sigh. He hasn’t killed him. Yet.
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“What?” Allen asked over the top of his menu, picking out his sixth item to order. Kanda was looking away from him; the line of his face was so serious it might have been laughable – it would have been if Allen had known the reason.

“I feel like we’re being watched.” Kanda answered, for once. Something about him was very uncharacteristic, or at least out of place. Since they had been on the train he had been his normal, quiet self, but he had carried Allen’s suitcase and suggested they get lunch with the extra time they had before the boat departed. He had also sat at the table with Allen, instead of insisting that they separate and split the check. Even now he was directly answering Allen’s questions, not treating him like some half-wit who couldn’t tell a creepy sensation from a hungry gut.

Allen scanned the area, waiting for his akuma sensitive left eye to spring into action, but nothing happened.

“I don’t see anything.”

“I have no interest in what you see with that eye of yours.”

“Of course you don’t, it’s not pretty or nice or pure.”

Kanda glared at him from the corner of his eye, leaving his face toward the shop across the street. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Allen shrugged. “Nothing, just pointing out all of the things you find interest in have those qualities, unless it’s destruction. I bet you even have flowers in your room at headquarters.”

Kanda blanched. Flowers? No. Flower? Yes. He had a flower. But it wasn’t something he kept around because it was pretty or nice or pure – it was his own curse that made him keep it. And if he found interest in things that were… flowery, did that explain his sudden fascination with the mellifluous young man in front of him?

Since when have I been fascinated by him? Did that horrible poem really mean that much to me?

“A lotus.” He said honestly.

“What?”

“I have a lotus flower in my room at headquarters.”

Allen blinked at him for a long moment, thinking that confession over. Kanda had spoken of his free-will, without insult. And Allen wasn’t really mad at him. He felt… like he was sitting across from someone who he could have a civil conversation with. Until the letter floated through his mind. Then breathing (and therefore talking) became an issue. “Oh.”

They sat in silence for their meal. Neither of them trusted his mouth to speak.
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“Seriously? At the same table?!” Lavi looked like he was going to hug Sable right then, but he refrained himself for the moment. “It took me five years before Kanda would let me sit at a table with him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have someone write him a shitty poem.” Sable pointed out, grinningly. The three conspirators were huddled in the darkest corner of the library, by a section of books no one usually ventured to. Not many Black Order members read children’s books anymore. “Nor did you have me there to help you.”

“Oh Sable, you are like Cupid!” Lenalee praised from her chair. They had a notebook on the table between the three of them which was covered in ideas for the next phase of the plan. “And I think Lavi’s poem was spectacular!”

Lavi waved her off, rolling his eyes. “That was hardly even poetry at all, really. But the letter was a work of art!”

“We don’t have time to talk about that now, we have to get everything in order for the next stage.” Sable said, picking up a writing utensil. “They will call one of the two of you before they come back, at least.”

“And when that happens…”

“We’ll be ready.”
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Allen was sorely disappointed when he and Kanda were forced into a single cabin – not that many other passengers got even that. The room was dark, dank, damp, dreary, and dusty, just the kind of place Cross would have rented for him back in the days of their travels. There was a bunk bed, a single tree-legged table, a night stand with an oil lamp, and a very old looking chair, besides that the place was completely empty. Empty and very, very cold.

The wall by the bottom bunk was warped so that the outside air got in. Allen didn’t notice, of course, until Kanda had taken the top already.

And Sable had warned him that it was going to be cold. Things would be better if he and Kanda weren’t on awkward terms. And maybe, over time, he could talk him into switching off who got the cold spot.

“Kanda,” Allen had called when the Japanese man was attempting to disappear quietly out the door.

“What?”

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.” Maybe he could make points by being both apologetic and honest.

“Che.”

“No, really. You aren’t narcissistic. I just… get angry sometimes, too, you know?” Allen was looking down at his hands with his feet hanging off the edge of the bed to floor, feeling like a very small child proclaiming that he had taken cookies from the cookie jar. And his heart was pounding. He felt oddly nervous like this; apologizing to the one man he never thought to apologize to. I wonder if it was the letter, He thought absently. Probably. I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying anything if I thought that he hated me.

Kanda shifted on his feet for a moment, not sure what to do. He wanted to be an arrogant bastard and just walk out like he was better than the brat, but… there was that poem. And the Moyashi just looked so… flowery when he was looking shy like that. He couldn’t make himself.

“Baka Moyashi,” He said it like a curse.

“It’s Allen. Say it with me, Al-en.”

“Damnit, Allen.” Kanda spat, surprising himself and the boy whose name he’d called. “Why do you have to say things like that? I know that I’m not narcissistic; I know that you get angry, but what the hell does it matter? We work together without attacking each other most of the time, so what does it matter if I have flowers in my room? What do I care if you won’t touch alcohol for the life of you?” He narrowed his eyes at Allen, damning the horrified look that took hold of that sweet face so suddenly. He had caused that horror. “We’re still Exorcists regardless of any of it. So stop apologizing.” He turned for the door again, and this time he was going to walk through it, growing guilt and sudden impulses be damned.

“Kanda.” Allen’s shaking voice though, was not something he had counted on. He stopped again.

“What?”

“I forgive you, too.”

Kanda was surprised enough to face him. How had Allen gotten that his apology was accepted out of that? Sure, that was what Kanda had intended to say initially, but he had not actually managed it very well. He also had not managed to say that the Moyashi was indeed not that short and nothing like a bean, but he had meant to say that too – or part of him had. Instead he found himself staring in awe at the pair of silver eyes, marred by a crimson line, crowned with a white cloud of hair. He was staring and there was nothing he could do about it.

“And now you’re staring at me.”

“Che. Do you have any idea how I’m supposed to react?”

“No. Kanda-y?”

Allen watched Kanda flounder for words. Something was obviously bothering him, something he wasn’t saying. It’s the note. I know it is. But why am I excited? It’s not like I want him to hold me in his arms and protect me or anything…

He had to come up with something. Kanda was not the kind to stand around and be wordless for more than a half second. “I’m taking a nap.” Kanda declared, stepping forward as if that had been his intention all along. Not true. So very not true. But Allen had talked about looking at the sea, and he could have time alone to think if Allen went out alone.

“I thought you wanted to go out and see the sea.”

“The sea will be there tomorrow.”

Allen shook his head and threw himself back on his bed. “True. It’ll be there for a while, I guess. Until we get to Varberg.” He didn’t look up when he heard the floor boards squeaking nor did he glance when he heard the ruffling of fabric. “And then it will be there on the way back, too. Maybe we’ll get tired of it after that much ocean...” He broke off to yawn.

Kanda lifted himself up to his bed without using the ladder – it was just easier that way. He had shed his coat so he could use it as a blanket, being ship blankets were of questionable cleanliness at best. “Moyashi,” He said when Allen was not talking.

“Hm?” Allen was already drifting – he was more tired that Kanda, having to get up early and not being a morning person was tough work for him.

“No more talking.”

“No. No more ta…” And that was it. An early morning, a big lunch, a small argument – that was all it took to put Allen Walker out like a light. His slow breathing echoed through the cabin almost silently, just loud enough to remind Kanda that he was not alone. And somehow, despite his desires, he fell asleep timing his breath to Allen’s rhythm.
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Yeah, I kind of wanted to go on…but I could not make myself. Sorry for the sudden, unpolished ending, but I’m a nooblet, don’t hurt me!! I did not want to continue for fear of making some horrid persona mistakes that are threatening to take over my mind and eat it alive. Please, tell me what you think so far.

On a lighter note, YAY! Thanksgiving break! You know what that means? That means Niamh will have time to write GOOD chapters! Not, half-assed crap like this! *Cheers*