How to Save a Life

Warning! You are about to read a very intense,
angst-scale: 10 chapter! There is graphic cutting, a complete lack of sanity,
and brandishings of swords at waiters! Read at own risk. We are in no way
responsible if you feel mind-fucked.

 

Chapter Three—You Found Me

We think as he does, and as disinterested observers we understand his thoughts and actions perhaps better than he does himself.

---- Hans Morgenthau

September 10

Le Petit Pont was probably the most ostentatious thing Yuu had ever
seen. The food was okay, mediocre at best, and overpriced. The décor was tacky,
with several paintings of the Pont d'Avignon and a large,
Christmas-light-ridden statue of the Tour Eiffel. Inside, Yuu could
already hear the gaudy French accordion music going on, and when Tiedoll went up
to the host so they could be seated, the Japanese boy wanted to hit something
very hard, preferably with Mugen. The fucking employee had a handlebar mustache
and was sporting a pinstriped vest, black pants, and a white shirt. His black
bowtie and white apron finished off the stereotypical ensemble, making Yuu want
to murder everything in sight.

His only consolation was that Lavi, who was being his outrageous, fake self,
seemed to have trouble containing his amusement. From the glint in his only
visible eye, it seemed that Lavi was being genuine on some minute level. Yuu
had quickly been able to decipher the redhead's moods, to tell which ones were
more real than the others. Lavi tried to be objective, as a Bookman should, but
there were times, like that short pipsqueak Lavi called Master had said, that
the boy just... slipped. It had been happening more often lately, especially in
the dorm. Especially today. And for some reason, Yuu was actually curious as to
who Lavi really was. The real Lavi was quieter and almost... shy wasn't the
word, not by a long shot, nor was timid or afraid. It was more like the real
Lavi was fragile, as if he had seen so many things that were threatening
to break his psyche if he was genuine for more than a moment.

It was concerning, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Yuu actually found
real-Lavi's presence... comforting. Sighing inwardly, Yuu forced himself
to admit that he might even possibly like real-Lavi. He was different
than Daisya, who was annoying, or Marie, who was like a boulder, and even
Lenalee, who was often strong in her opinions. Lavi simply was, simply existed,
and Yuu liked him. Maybe.

And he knew that Lavi liked him. The way the boy had softly asked if Yuu wanted
to eat lunch with him, as if he was afraid the Japanese boy would say no, had
convinced him of that. And if that hadn't been enough proof, the boy had told
him things that he probably never should have heard. He had said some personal
things about himself--his fear of needles, hints at his past. Before that,
fake-Lavi and the tiny hints of real-Lavi had revealed nothing, had told him
nothing, even as they'd both dug ruthlessly into Yuu's worst memories.

More than anything, though, real-Lavi was intriguing to him. It was
almost like it was okay to care, like it wouldn't hurt him this time. It was
like he could actually trust someone without having proof that the other
was trustworthy. It was a completely foreign feeling, one he hadn't felt since
before his parents had... died all those years ago. It was like he could trust
someone who was slightly more broken than he was.

Ignoring the beginnings of the tremors in his limbs, Yuu let Lavi fall into
step next to him as they followed Tiedoll to their table. His eyes widened in
horror as he saw the rest of their party had already arrived. Moyashi—whose
guardian, thankfully, had skipped out—was seated next to Lenalee, who was
looking very pretty in a short, ruffled skirt and a long-sleeved blouse. She
had her hair in her customary pigtails, twin burgundy ribbons holding them up.
Across from her was Miranda, who had her slim arm through Marie's bulky one.
And there, desecrating the room with his very presence, doodling on a kids'
menu with multi-colored crayons, was Daisya. With a beach dress on. And a very
familiar-looking bikini top beneath it. Yuu prayed the other boy was wearing
the bottoms, too, just for decency's sake. The worst part, though, was that
Daisya was imitating Lenalee's hairstyle. And the hair ties were pink.

"They let him in with that?" Yuu asked, his voice coming out scratchy
with shock, as he pointed at the abomination that was his adopted brother.

"O' course they did, Yuu-kunnn!" Daisya exclaimed, jumping up from
his seat and following the table to the other end. Yuu dodged his attack by
grabbing Lavi and using him as a shield. The redhead gave out a squawking shout
as all three of them were tackled to the ground. Within a moment, Yuu was out
from underneath them, trying to ignore the jumpy feeling from being touched. He
unsheathed Mugen and pointed it right at Daisya's exposed throat. Lavi quivered
beneath him, making a tiny, almost unheard whimpering noise, and Yuu removed
his blade, giving Daisya a swift kick in the stomach.

"Don't," he hissed menacingly, "call me by my first
name."

"Well," said an equally menacing voice from behind him, "don't
brandish weapons in my restaurant, Miss."

Yuu saw red as the world around him snapped. He remembered nothing clearly,
save for a few details. Tiedoll's arm coming out, trying to grab him, seizing
his wrist and making him jump. Daisya's pink hair tie falling out as Yuu
twirled toward the owner. The manager's mouth opening in a small "o"
as he saw the blade arcing toward him. But it was Lavi's face that made him
stop, the sharp side of his katana less than a millimeter from the pale skin of
the shocked manager's arm. Lavi's face. His face. A wide, green eye, opened too
much to imply anything other than acute alarm. His mouth, also open, was slack,
as if the boy wasn't schooling his expression—for once. Maybe it was the hair
falling almost artfully over his black eye patch, creating a beautiful harmony
of colors, or perhaps it was that Yuu could see two freckles the boy himself probably
wasn't aware of on his left cheek, but for some reason, the expression made him
freeze. It was probably with disgust. But Lavi—the real Lavi—wouldn't want him
to attack an idiot, would he? And, for that matter, did Yuu? It accomplished
nothing, though it would make him feel better. But Lenalee liked the
fucking place, liked the fucking French food. She wouldn't be
allowed back if he did this. And she'd hate him for it.

Sighing, he lowered his weapon, biting out, "fuck you," in his lowest
voice before half-marching, half-stomping from the building. A quick glance
that could have been described as a hair flick but wasn't allowed Yuu to see
that his strange roommate was following and that Tiedoll was already
apologizing to the poor, stunned man who had dared invoke the Japanese boy's
ire.

"Kanda!" Lavi called out from behind him. Yuu twirled around, nearly
freezing in place. What had Lavi called him? "Kanda! Wait for
me!"

It was real-Lavi; Yuu could see it immediately as he glanced into the other boy's
eye. Without thinking, he grabbed the redhead's face, drawing him closer. Even
though he didn't like close, detested it nearly as much as the chains that
Tiedoll had tried to put on him even though Tiedoll didn't have any chains. But
the chains were still there, burning and icy at once, and Yuu wished he could
fucking see his scars because otherwise it was like nothing had
happened. And, dammit, it was already dark enough to start seeing the faces,
and his heart rate was skyrocketing, and if he wasn't smart, he would have
sworn that he was hyperventilating, too.

"Kanda?" Lavi's voice was speculative this time, his eyebrow lowered
in what could be worry or what could be an attempt at him, just like all the
other faces. Only they hadn't called him Kanda. They hadn't called him
anything. No, that wasn't true. They had called him a lot of things. He hadn't
liked those. But then again, he didn't like what the redheaded boy in front of
him was calling him. He didn't like it... was this redhead one of the faces? He
didn't look like a face he had seen before, but that happened from time to
time. Lucidity had been a dream at that time, something that only happened
occasionally, so if he had forgotten this boy before, it wouldn't surprise him
that much. And he was Kanda. But he didn't want to be?

But there was no pain, and that was what made him shake his head and bite back
his scream as the redheaded face materialized a body in front of him and held
onto his wrists that had at some point come up to cross defensively over his
chest. Yuu covered his panic and shook his head faster, trying to erase the
electricity that was bolting through them, so different from the pain and fear
and hurt that normally followed the wrist-grabbing. Normally it was soft
when the wrist-grabbing happened, but this time it wasn't. It... was...

"Yuu-chan!?"

It wasn't enough to snap him out of it, nothing was. He just stood there,
wide-eyed, staring out at all the faces. There were too many now. There was a
frizzy-haired man with too-thick glasses that made his eyes big, a tall and
hulky man that seemed terrifying next to Yuu's small form, a tiny woman with
curly brown hair and brown eyes, a white-haired boy who seemed far too
familiar, a fucktard—no, that was... something with a D... Day... something--who
was obviously a man, despite the pink hair tie that held a bunch of his hair in
a half-assed ponytail, a man that had red hair, glasses, and a mask, someone
that Yuu knew instantly was predator, one that would hurt him if only on a
whim, and there was a sweet-looking girl who couldn't possibly want to harm him
but must have because he was seeing her face. And there was the redheaded face
again, leering at him with that green, green eye, whispering something that he
tried not to hear.

He screamed this time, screamed long and hard, screamed words he didn't know
and wouldn't remember later. Maybe it was Lavi, maybe it was oh shit,
get off, maybe it was unhand me you cretin, but whatever it was, the
touch was gone. He wanted it back, though, as twisted as that seemed. And that
made him realize that something was very, very different and very, very wrong.

He wanted to collapse as he blinked and clarity returned. He wanted everyone to
forget what they had just seen because Tiedoll was going to try to make him see
someone again, have them put him on fucking medicine again, medicine
that made him feel weak and tired and fuzzy. Medicine that made his mind grow
cobwebs as it tried to erase faces that could never, never leave the etchings
of his mind.

"Yuu-chan!"

The Japanese boy blinked almost tiredly at his roommate, flushing halfheartedly
as Tiedoll marched up. He knew what was coming next.

"Not now," he whispered, defeated. "Let's just go to the fucking
Greek place or a fucking McFood Stand. I don't give a shit. Just... not
now." He pulled himself from Tiedoll's grasping arms, throwing himself
inadvertently at Lavi, who wrapped him in a tight, warm hold that felt good.
He extricated himself from that, too. Good was bad.

He needed pain. Pain kept the faces at bay, kept his mind aware. He had asked
his doctor once, innocently, back before... he had been with Tiedoll. The
physician had told him it had something to do with endorphins or something.
Well, he needed some of those right now. Anything would do. But he knew Tiedoll
would make even more of a fuss if he went to the bathroom to use the knife
currently in the five inches of space at the bottom of his scabbard. And though
he could get away with it at the table--well, maybe Lavi would notice--he didn't
like the attention. He hated anyone even looking at him and always had. He
tolerated that now, but touching... no, he didn't like touching. It
reminded him of the raw hurting, the unrefined confusion, of his times in the
dark.

Tiedoll patted him on the shoulder, pushing his limply hanging arms further
toward the concrete sidewalk that made interesting patterns in the pool of
light the nearby streetlamp provided. They whorled in and out of sight, hiding
themselves with the faces that still lingered, should he dare to focus on them.

He was so intent on not looking at the spiraling patterns
on the ground that he didn't notice the Bean Sprout stride up next to him. Nor
did he realize that the pounding on his back was from the idiot's hand. But he
did notice how close those whirling shapes were becoming. Everything went white
for a moment as the pain he had thought of seeking flooded into his system,
running down familiar, dried-out paths, like a flash-flood in a desert valley.
With pain came heat, and he grimaced almost ironically as he stood up, ignoring
the petite hand that always offered but never received.

Someone asked if he was okay, someone who didn't sound as
if he cared. Looking over in the direction of the voice, Yuu saw fake-Lavi. It
was becoming easier to tell the difference between the two. Real-Lavi held
himself a bit more centered, while fake-Lavi liked to slouch and carry himself
as if he had a too-large weight on his shoulders. Fake-Lavi never had a sparkle
in his eye, though he could act convincingly enough that most people easily
overlooked that, interacted with him and saw what they wanted to see. But Yuu
was an artist. He saw the absent spark, the absent life. Real-Lavi had it.
Real-Lavi had it in such abundance that at first it had blinded Yuu. The change
was so prominent and real that he had known at once that they were different
people. The most obvious difference, though, was that real-Lavi didn't smile.
Instead, real-Lavi shivered and shook, sobbed like a little kid, ate each bite
of a frozen, left-over salad with reverence, as if each forkful could be his
last. Real-Lavi had ghosts in his eye, phantoms all around him. They sought
release during the night when fake-Lavi was shed and all that could be there
was real-Lavi.

Yuu shook his head infinitesimally. No, Lavi, he
tried to say with his eyes and expression, I'm not alright. Can we talk
about this later?

Lavi blinked, and real-Lavi stared back for just half a
moment before the fake version covered him once more. Yuu understood the
message. You bet your fucking ass we are.

The Japanese boy was slightly shocked. Real-Lavi had
horrible language, but Yuu had no room to talk.

Someone led him into the tiny Greek restaurant.
Apparently, they didn't need reservations because they didn't wait long. Either
that or Yuu was losing time again, as was typical after one of his
"episodes," as the doctors called them. 

He only caught snatches of events throughout the meal.
Lenalee was talking animatedly with Moyashi about something, Daisya was
hugging Marie at the opposite end of the table, with Miranda looking on in
something akin to horror and embarrassment. Tiedoll was staring at Yuu with
those horrible, concerned eyes, and Lavi--well, Lavi was eating. Quietly. He wasn't
real-Lavi, per se, but he wasn't quite fake-Lavi, either. He was like a
completely separate entity--empty like Fake, but quiet like Real. With horror
mirroring the look in Tiedoll's pitying eyes, Yuu realized what Lavi was
reminding him of. Short and wiry; long, jagged hair; and a pair of hooded,
blackened eyes. Lavi was Bookman. But then that was gone as well, and the
evening whirled on, following a pattern that reminded Yuu of the sidewalk's
kaleidoscope as it meandered in and out of the pools of light.

He vaguely became aware that he was moving, this time in
a car. Tiedoll was saying something to him, but he couldn't understand it. Then
he was seated on his bed and Tiedoll was gone. He was alone, which was good,
because he needed to get back to his senses. He didn't spare a thought as to
where Lavi might be, only caring about the razor blade hidden under his
blankets and tantalizingly within reach. 

He didn't care that Lavi could walk in at any moment—the
boy had told him that he didn't have to leave, and Yuu knew the redhead
wouldn't stop him, so it was okay to do this in the room. He drew the utility
knife from its place and delicately traced the light shadows of his veins with
it, not drawing blood, only contemplating the best way to make it hurt. Today
was not a perpendicular day; it was too cold and there were too many faces for
it to be a perpendicular day. Placing the thick blade at the base of his wrist,
Yuu pressed deeply into flesh, relishing in the sweet clarity that resulted
from tendon, muscle, and bone being rent with the dull edge. The tendon snapped
like a taught rubber band. Blood began to spill over the jagged line of his
wound, cascading down his forearm like a tainted river of heat. It felt like
all the horrible chains, flowers, and people had never existed, had never
invaded his little suburban life. It felt like all the fear, all the paranoia,
and all the hidden emotions had never had to happen. It was like he was back
with his parents in their little traditional house on their little traditional
street, with their little mediocre life.     

The blade had reached the bottom of his forearm, scraping
across the bones of his elbow, causing another sweet shot of agony to sweep
across his brain. He pulled the knife away from his seeping appendage to
inspect the damage. Cold. Cold was seeping into his wound. Healing it, freezing
it shut with a million icicles, too fast to be normal, too fast not to remind
him of why he saw lotuses. It was still too much; he needed more of the
achingly clarifying pain. Bringing the blade up to his wrist once again, he
sliced the flesh once more. This time, it was unobstructed by tendon and muscle
so there was only the wet, gritty scrape of metal to bone. He pressed the blade
in deeper, shredding the marrow. There was a lot of blood now. It was coating
his rolled sleeves, his dark pants, and the soft blue of his sheets. There was
no sound save for his calm, even breathing.

And then the door opened. Not that it mattered to Yuu at
that moment, but Lavi walked in, shutting the door and shouting a quick
good-bye to whoever he had been talking to. The redhead turned around, just as
Yuu was bringing the blade back up to his wrist. He turned his gaze away from
his roommate, choosing a point at which to start and sinking the blade
deliciously back through his skin, scraping it across bone once more as it
snapped more tendons, destroyed more blood vessels. He didn't need them, not
right now. He didn't need to see Lavi's face go from one of fake-happiness to
one of unmistakable horror. It was like those stupid drama masks the Greeks
liked. He felt dizzy and delirious, but he brought his blade back to his wrist
once more, wanting to switch arms to even out the pain, bring about more
throbbing, but knowing his forearm had not yet healed enough to allow such
movement.

He stabbed himself harshly this time, testing the very
range of the blade itself. He was so far to the left of his limb that it went
right through skin, missing bone and muscle and all the things that induced
more pain. But he did feel the sweet, welcome agony that blew heat into
his freezing arm via his favorite red messenger.

Words flowed around him, trying to thaw his frozen heart
and mind. "Yuu!" A voice screamed, though it sounded more like a
muffled stage-whisper, like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears. Pain
rippled in his wound, and the world was warm, so very warm, hot. Burning.
It felt so pleasant. The faces probably wouldn't even—

And then reality snapped firmly back into place and Yuu
realized what he was doing, where he was, and who he was with. With a surprised
yelp, he pressed himself back into the wall, feeling warmth as something
burning and sticky trickled down the back of his head. The smell of blood was
all around him, familiar as a blanket one had as a child. It swathed him in a
tight cocoon as he tried desperately to go back to his fuzzy little world, the
world where faces and chains and shears didn't matter. He tried to go back to
the world where Lavi's face wasn't dangerously close to his, where he knew what
to think and feel and believe, where there was a warmth that wasn't associated
with pain. But he couldn't. He never could. And Lavi's eye was showing depths
of worry that couldn't be anything but real.

"What the fuck are you doing on my bed?" Yuu
hissed.

---

Kanda had been nearly despondent since they had left the
French restaurant. Lavi tried not to notice, but perception was his job, and he
saw everything. He saw the way fear and panic ripped through the Japanese boy's
eyes as the manager mistook his gender. He saw the brief moment of recognition
as Kanda stopped his blade far too close to the quivering Frenchman's arm. He
heard the screams rip themselves, unknown, from the boy's throat as he held his
hands to his head. He wanted to call the boy's name, so he did. And then Lavi
watched him as the evening wore on, as he fell roughly to the ground, as Kanda
went completely limp while they waited for nearly three hours to get a table,
as the Japanese boy didn't order any food, forcing Tiedoll to do it for him, as
the redhead's roommate left his food completely untouched. He looked beyond
Kanda, though, to the eyes and faces of those he called his family. style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:
"Times New Roman"'>

Tiedoll did nothing more than stare at him, eyes worried,
as he picked at his own food. Daisya, Miranda, and Marie all tried to make
merry, but Lavi saw the many looks they threw back at Kanda when they thought
no one was looking. But Lavi was always looking. Lenalee had been bad, though,
never taking her eyes off the Japanese boy, watching him like a hawk. At one
point, Lavi had even caught Moyashi blatantly staring.

The crimson-haired man that Kanda had called Cross, who
had joined them just before Kanda’s episode, leaned over to Tiedoll and
muttered something that Lavi supposed was meant to be private. It was all the
more important, then, that he catch it.

"He hasn't had an episode that bad in years, not
since just after he was released from the hospital, right?"

Tiedoll nodded gravely, taking a conservative sip of his
red wine as his red-haired companion downed his own and rudely asked the waiter
for more. Immediately, Lavi wondered the implications. The way Kanda had been
grabbing his head, the way Lavi had recognized his self-injury, led him to
believe that the Japanese boy probably had a psychological affliction.
Depression, perhaps, but the way the boy had stared at him seemed somehow...
off. Lavi ran through his lists of more severe psychoses. Multiple Personalities
was out; it was too rare, and it didn't seem to fit. On the other hand, a panic
disorder seemed too common, too... easy. It had to be something else. It wasn't
bipolar disorder, as Lavi had never seen the boy on a "high."
Post-traumatic stress disorder, maybe, but that also seemed too simple. Yuu was
not a simple boy... unless... but schizophrenia didn't seem right, either. style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";mso-fareast-font-family:
"Times New Roman"'>

He'd have to keep watching, keep observing. If there was
one thing Bookman had taught him, it was to have as much information as possible
before drawing any conclusions. Normally, that didn't matter for him, but in
this case, it did, and he would use the advice to his advantage. He chattered
away in the car ride back, keeping a close eye on Yuu's responses as he fell
right back into 'Lavi.' After all, hadn't he been in his persona all night,
excepting that small bit during Kanda's little "episode," as Cross
had called it.

They walked into the room, and Kanda moved mechanically
over to his bed. Lavi watched him as he stilled, his posture slightly huddled,
rather than its normal ramrod straight position. Kanda's eyes were blank,
floating even, and the redhead was sure the boy would not make any movement
unless he came to awareness, which had happened less and less often as the
night had proceeded. As Tiedoll made to leave, Lavi grabbed the man's arm,
shooting him a significant look.

Kanda's guardian led them from the room, closing the door
quietly, with care. They walked out to the kitchenette, and noting that no
eavesdroppers were in the vicinity, Lavi sat down on the nearest couch, a bit
disappointed at the lack of comfort the furniture instilled in him.

"I will tell you straight out, Tiedoll," Lavi
said, knowing that even his persona would be serious in this situation and
taking advantage of it. "I'm fucking terrified of what happened tonight. I
heard Cross—" the frizzy-haired man had introduced him around once they'd
been settled in the Greek restaurant, "—telling you that this has happened
before. Er, I don't mean to pry, but is Yuu okay?"

Another thing he had learned from Bookman was to be very
straightforward with his questions first. If that method failed, he could
always try subterfuge and, well, other methods that still sickened Lavi to
consider. Anything for information, Bookman had said. At this moment, Lavi
believed he could never feel like he understood more.

Tiedoll shrugged, looking away and to the left as he
considered what story to tell. It was obvious he was considering truth, but
Lavi knew the man was very caring, especially toward his charges, and would try
to do what Kanda wanted as much as possible. At that second, Lavi realized he
would probably have to pull the scared roommate card, and his stomach twinged
at the very idea. It felt like he was cheating. But that was what being a
Bookman was all about, he supposed. Tiedoll's face finally came to some kind of
resolution, and the Frenchman looked up, catching Lavi's gaze.

"Yes," he said heavily, looking very reluctant
to speak at all. "Yuu-kun has had such... I hate to call them 'episodes,'
it sounds too medical, but 'attacks,' maybe?"

It was obvious the man was hedging. Lavi would have to
try another route, another angle. "Are they... severe?" He asked,
trying to sound innocent. "I'm just worried about him is all," he
added quickly, raising a hand in what he knew was a convincing act of concern
and reassurance as to his intentions. Perhaps that would loosen the middle-aged
man's tongue.

Tiedoll surveyed the room, looking anywhere but at Lavi
for quite a while. When he looked back once more, his gaze was hardened,
almost. "They are sometimes. I think tonight was fairly bad for him, but I
don't have a clue what set it off. They're usually small things, things we
don't usually notice. I don't think you have to worry about him, though."
At this, Tiedoll smiled almost fatherly at him before continuing.
"Yuu-kun's attacks are few and far between. He hasn't had one in over
three years."

Lavi nodded speculatively, schooling his expression into
something akin to concerned confusion. "What does he have?"

Be blunt, Bookman said. Lavi was blunt.

Tiedoll uncomfortably rearranged himself in the armchair
he had chosen to occupy. He didn't answer.

"Sorry," Lavi said, realizing he'd pushed it
too far and backtracking.

"It's just fine; I know you're only concerned for
him," Tiedoll said genially. It hurt Lavi to say what he had to say next.

"I really don't mean to pry, it's just that...
well..." He hesitated just enough to make the Frenchman lean in, curious
and wary, wondering what Lavi had to say and hoping he wouldn't say what he was
about to. But Lavi hesitated a bit more, enough to have Tiedoll gesture for him
to go on. It was the perfect way to make it seem innocent, as if he really, really
didn't want to offend. In the deepest rut of his soul, he didn't. "I...
just need to know... God, I really don't want to say this—" he didn't. Why
was he even saying it? "—but..."

"Go on," Tiedoll said, making an almost
impatient "get on with it" gesture.

"I... just need to know he's not gonna..." Lavi
lowered his voice, looking around to see if anyone else was in the room, hoping
that Tiedoll would take that as even more reluctance. "...attack me or
anything. Y'know, in the night or somethin'."

He immediately regretted his words. They made the poor,
middle-aged man's face crumble at the implication, probably knowing that he
couldn't promise that, probably knowing that he'd have to say something in
assurance and hating himself for having to let "Yuu-kun's" trust fall
down the cosmic toilet hole of life. It hurt Lavi to break that trust. He knew
the Frenchman had probably gone through a lot of effort to obtain it. Lavi had
watched the Japanese boy enough to know that he did not give out such absolute
trust easily—and it was obvious, despite his exterior of distant hatred, that
Kanda trusted the man, possibly with his life. It hurt to know that the
Frenchman would never gain it again. Kanda's trust was a brittle one. Lavi had
sensed that, known it from his immediate gut feeling about the boy.

It seemed Tiedoll was struggling for words. "I
cannot tell you what you want to know," he said finally, his speech slow and
pained, as if he had wanted to say more but just couldn't force himself to.

"No, no, it's okay," Lavi said, raising his
palms so they faced the man in the universal "sorry, didn't mean to
offend, I'm backing down now" gesture. He couldn't get information from
the man, but he could still—

The door opened, emitting a girl that Lavi recalled was
in his German class, along with Christian down the hall. Her name was Lizzie,
if he remembered correctly—which, of course, he did. That meant it was time to
wrap things up with Tiedoll.

"I'm really sorry. Of course he won't. I'm just
being paranoid—it's what the Old Panda always tells me, so I'm sorry if I...
anyway, do you know if I can help him at all?" He asked, standing up and
going through a different door, the one they'd originally come through. Tiedoll
took the cue and followed him down the hall.

"I don't know. Yuu-kun is not usually open with
people. He probably won't say anything. He's never had a friend before, so I
don't really know what to tell you." Tiedoll shrugged helplessly,
obviously at a loss.

"Wow," Lavi said, adopting a smile with ease.
"I'm honored. Yuu-chan's first friend. Well, sir, don't worry, I'll keep
'im all nice and safe for you! Why don'tcha go back home, and I'll give you a
call—if you'd give me your number, that'd be great—later, say, tomorrow, and
I'll tell ya how he's doin'." As he spoke, he fished his phone from his
pants pocket and started heading toward the contact book. He waited for Tiedoll
to recite his number and plugged in the digits with quick, skilled fingers.
Tiedoll looked relieved, and Lavi smiled and waved after him as he opened the
door, shouting a quick good-bye. He turned back to face the room and froze,
taking in every detail as he normally did.

The first thing he noticed was the palpable wall of the
stench of blood hitting his nostrils and making him dizzy. The second was
Kanda. He was sitting on the bed, an almost demonic glint in his eyes, as blood
poured profusely from his arm, seeping through clothes and sheets and—fuck, it
was even dripping onto the tile beneath his mattress. That would be a
pain to clean up. A long-bladed utility knife was in his hand, and he was
cutting away parallel to his forearm. Lavi heard what he hoped wasn't
the squeaking screech of metal meeting bone. And then Yuu's face contorted into
something Lavi did not want to see as the Japanese boy plunged the knife
through his arm. Lavi felt his persona shatter from his mind as he let the door
slam behind him. He ran to Yuu's bed, half vaulting onto it and landing right
next to Kanda's outstretched legs. He wasn't against the wall, but he was more
toward the middle of the bed, farther back than he'd been when Lavi had left
him.

"Yuu!" Lavi screamed, dimly aware that he had
probably attracted Tiedoll's attention. All thoughts were gone, running too
fast to do anything but fog his mind with a dizzy haze. He wrestled the blade
from the Japanese boy's surprisingly strong grasp, scratching at fingers and
knuckles to achieve his goal. He pulled the bleeding arm out, trying to assess
the damage. Kanda smiled as Lavi's finger accidentally slipped into one of his
wounds, squelching around in the gore and blood inside.

Fighting back the urge to vomit, Lavi squeezed down,
glaring at the other boy. "You want pain, Yuu-chan?" He hissed,
moving his finger around so that it was playing against a miraculously uncut
tendon. Kanda's smile deepened. And then he yelped and crashed backward,
cracking his head loud enough on the wall for Lavi to be concerned. The redhead
leaned forward, wanting to inspect the damage, but Yuu's eyes focused on him,
and all Lavi could see in them was fear. It was an almost animalistic fear, one
that forced the boy back into the wall, skinny form shaking as he huddled
against what he must have thought was safe.

"What the fuck are you doing on my bed?" Kanda
hissed, and he tried to move. Lavi caught the boy's arms, wincing as the boy
growled in pain, and effectively pinned the boy against his chest. Kanda
struggled, clawing at fabric and skin and anything he could to get away, but
Lavi held him fast, not letting him move, whispering soothing, comforting
things he had never thought himself capable of saying.

And Yuu deflated, hung against him as if he had given up
the fight. Lavi held him tighter, not quite trusting the lack of movement but
also trying to give comfort, to soothe. "Shh, Yuu, it's okay," he
said, repeating it like a mantra. Kanda shook in his arms, at one point letting
out a whimper. Eventually, he fell silent, though Lavi knew the boy wasn't
asleep.

Sighing, Lavi pulled his phone from his back pocket. He
made to dial the police to get an ambulance, but a hand shot out and threw the
phone clear across the room before the first button was even pressed.

"I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine." Yuu's
voice was soft and muffled, probably from being stuffed against Lavi's shirt.

"Yuu-chan, you’re bleeding everywhere; I need to get
you to the hospital before you die!" There was a scoffing noise and Yuu
pushed himself away from Lavi. The redhead kept a firm hold on the other boy,
although there was no real reason too, Lavi felt he needed to keep a
hold of Yuu.

"I do not need help. See?" Yuu held up his
mutilated forearm, which was still coated in a thick layer of blood. The boy
raised his other arm and smoothed it down the underside. There was no large
gaping wound, only a thin line of broken skin, and soon, right before Lavi's
eye that, too, was gone, only to be replaced by a thin, white scar. 

Lavi couldn't think. This was an impossible situation.
Impossible didn't compute in a Bookman's mind, there had to be a logical
explanation for this... phenomenon. Lavi's mind went to the first, most obvious
conclusion. Had this been some sort of horrible practical joke? No, there was
no way that someone could fake that kind of wound, or pretend to cut themselves
that deeply. The second option was that maybe the wound hadn't been as bad as
it seemed when Lavi had first arrived. Maybe his emotional self had overreacted
and hallucinated. But that also didn't seem right because “Lavi” was still
there to make judgments for him. The third option was...

"This is what the Lotus does. Every time it shakes,
it’s healing you, isn't it? I didn't notice the shaking tonight because you had
put it away. I guess I had already figured it out, but I just needed
proof..." Lavi was stunned at the fact that his unbelievable hypothesis
had actually been correct. Real-Lavi, on the other hand, was still petrified.
He pulled Yuu in again, embracing him close even though the Japanese boy tensed
at the continued contact.

"I'm not gonna hurtchya," Lavi promised, moving
his arms to the boy's sides in an attempt to make him feel less trapped. And
amazingly, Kanda relaxed—slowly, naturally, but he relaxed. They spent a few
moments in comfortable silence, listening to the other breathe.

"You wanna tell me what happened today?" Lavi
asked quietly, smoothing a hand over the Japanese boy's hair. Kanda stiffened
for a moment but relaxed again, shifting his head so that it rested its full
weight on Lavi's shoulder.

"I got disoriented," Kanda whispered, and Lavi
knew at once that he wouldn't get anything else out of the dark-haired boy.
Running his fingers through the boy's hair in what he hoped was a soothing
manner, Lavi nodded, allowing the subject to drop.

"Y'know, I don't remember much from before I was six—it’s
all real vague," Lavi said in a hushed voice, as if speaking loudly would
break whatever emotional spell he was under. The boy in his arms grunted in a
way that Lavi was sure translated to continue. "Sometimes, I get
all disoriented because I'll get a small flash of my time before it. I know I
was on the streets—that's where Bookman found me—and I think I was with some
people, but I don't really remember much. Is that what happened to you?"

Kanda shook his head against Lavi's shoulder and brought
a hand to fist at the hem of the redhead's shirt. "I see... things,"
he responded, his voice as quiet as Lavi's. That added to the apprentice
Bookman's theories about mental disorder, but it still didn't seem quite right,
even though all evidence currently pointed toward it. Maybe, if he asked, Kanda
would tell him just what it is that he saw.

"What kinda things do you see?" He tried to
sound as innocent as he could—he didn't want the boy to know that he was
psychoanalyzing him. It looked to Lavi like Kanda had noticed because he pulled
back. But then he did something unexpected: he reached under his blanket and
pulled out one of his notebooks, handing it to Lavi.

It was the first time Kanda had ever let him see what was
inside it. Not that Lavi hadn't looked while the boy was away, but it felt like
Kanda was giving him something that implied a large amount of trust. That was
bad because trust was something that also implied that he could never tell
anyone what was held in the pages of this notebook, and Lavi knew he didn't
want to break that trust. For some reason, he felt that having Yuu's trust was
far more important than telling Bookman, even if it meant pain for him later.

Lavi opened the worn notebook to the first page. This was
different than the one he had looked through, and Lavi wondered when Yuu had
begun drawing it. The first picture was surprisingly nice; there were two
people sitting at a table, smiling at him. They both had exceptionally black
hair, a light golden touch to their skin, and something that could only be
described as happiness in their eyes. The family resemblance was
uncanny. It was obvious that these two people were Yuu's parents. Flipping to
the next page, there was nothing but shadowed half-there faces in what looked
like a whorling mist. The faces were indistinct and almost could have been a
trick of the eye, but they were definitely there. It disturbed Lavi greatly,
though there was nothing overtly threatening about the faces. The next page was
blank, save for a single pink lotus. It was an exact—and Lavi knew from having
looked at the lotus himself—copy, down to every fold and crease of the petals.
Even the same disturbing aura that surrounded the real thing seemed to have
been transferred onto the page. Lavi turned the page quickly, coming face to
face with the features of an older man. He must have been in his late sixties,
was balding, and had a strange mole on his forehead above his right eyebrow.
The man would have seemed friendly, had it not been for the blood spatters that
covered the left side of his face, dripping down into the vacant oblivion that
was the empty section of the page. This man bore no resemblance to Yuu, so Lavi
asked the question, "Yuu, who is this?"

The Japanese boy looked at him gravely, and answered him
matter-of-factly, "That is the man who killed my parents."

---

A/N: Dun-dun-duuuun!!! *scary music, cheap effects* Don’t
worry, Yuu’s not completely crazeh! 8D We are. So yeah, we warned you it
was intense, but did you believe us? Noooo. :P Anyway, we’ll try to work on BRS
soon so that you can get you some o’ dat. (Ew, weird slangy thingies)