Downward Spiral
Ezra Evans
Rating: T for a somewhat liberal use of swear words
Warnings: AU, artistic liberty, swearing
Summary: In which Allen is schizophrenic, Lenalee is a therapist, Lavi is one of Lenalee's clients, and Kanda still looks like a girl.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lenalee, Allen, or anything remotely related to D. Gray-Man, all of which is the property of Katsura Hoshino.
Author's Note: ...no one's done a schizophrenic Allen? Weird.
Came to the conclusion the other day that "Lavi" would really romanize best to "Robbie," "Deak" to "Deke," and "Lenalee" to "Lina Li" (noted because my aunt's romanized name is Lĭnà; as far as I know, Chinese names are made up of two syllable given names and one syllable family names). I don't think I'll ever carry these romanizations into fanfiction, though; I'm too used to the official spellings for that.
I'm decently happy with the first bit, but a little iffy with the rest, especially Allen's and Kanda's argument and resultant fight. Help?
Developed on a whim, probably won't be finished ever. If anyone wants to finish it on his/her own, feel free─but link back here with credit, please. Or, if anyone has a suggestion, drop a review—that's fine too. :)
Word Count: 885
Chapter One
I was there and so can tell the whole sad, sorry tale.
Lenalee had been a therapist for a long time.
She started as a kid before she even knew that what she did was a job, that listening to people complain could earn money. Moreover, she had a knack for asking questions that somehow pointed sobbing classmates to a solution.
Her brother, Komui, was an apartment manager and freelance inventor, but he enthusiastically supported Lenalee as her manager and secretary and offered the population of the entire apartment complex as clients. Even without a college degree, Lenalee had built a sound foundation for herself, for her reputation as a good listener had grown around her to the point that her brother's contribution was, though helpful, not absolutely necessary to her success. The apartment complex, once quiet, now housed most of her clients, and was thus subject to explosion at the whims of the unstable and Komui's own inventions.
She dealt with strange people every day. She was used to it. It was simply her life until he came along.
And then everything spiraled out of control.
"Le-na-lee-cha-aaan~ Are you home?"
Lenalee shook her head to herself as two squabbling voices grew louder, trailing toward her until her door burst open to reveal the owners of the voices: Lavi and Komui.
Lavi was one of Lenalee's oldest friends (and thus by default a client): a cheerful, redheaded journalist-cum-government spy, plagued by his naturally open nature and the contrasting secrecy demanded by both his jobs. His only consistent name was "Bookman Jr."; the name "Lavi" would probably last about as long as the name he had only two months ago, "Deak." Lavi was tall and friendly; Lenalee enjoyed his light-hearted company, and never forgot his birth name even though he had long ago.
Komui, as Lenalee's brother, was understandably overprotective of his little sister, and had made a habit of intimidating male clients by a combination of brotherly ferocity and sheer height. He was at present, for no reason Lenalee could tell, presently bickering with Lavi over soba and a panda.
"Hello, Lena~!" Lavi greeted happily, cutting across Komui.
"Lavi!" Lenalee grinned. "Do you need something? You were coming in Tuesday, weren't you?"
"Aww, I didn't come for that," Lavi laughed. "I just found someone, and I thought he'd like to meet you." He leaned slightly backward to peer down the hall he had just come from, green eye searching in slight confusion. "Ah? Where'd he go?"
"You didn't come in with anyone," Komui commented, "nor did you tell me you had someone with you. Did you lose him?"
Lavi snickered. "I don't have to lose him. Beansprout gets lost by himself~"
"Then we should find him," Lenalee chirped, scooting from behind her desk and hopping out the door with a stretch. "What does he look like?"
"Believe me, Lena, you'll know when you see him," Lavi called happily, already halfway out of the apartment door, having trampled over Komui on his way out.
"Really?" she asked skeptically. "He looks that weird?"
"Really," Lavi confirmed with a wink.
"I'm heading out, Brother," she called back to a flattened Komui. "Take care!"
"I'm lost, Mana," a white-haired boy said aloud to the air.
"No shit, Allen," he snarled. "Why didn't you just follow Lavi like he fucking told you to?"
"He was going too fast," he explained, "and we just ate. It's not good to run right after you eat."
"Like fuck!" he snapped irritably.
"Go easy on Allen-chan, Mana," he soothed.
He grumbled to himself and subsided.
A few moments later, "I'm lost, Mana."
"We get it, stupid! We're fucking lost!"
"Mana-kun~"
"What? Fine. We're freaking lost. Happy, Neah?"
"I'm always happy, Mana-kun~"
"Really, Neah?"
"You bet, Allen-chan~"
A door swung open just behind the boy. He turned, surprised, as a tall girl stepped out of the door, long dark hair cut straight and tied back into a high ponytail.
"Hey, you," the girl growled, her voice low and gravelly and distinctly unfeminine.
"Ah! Neah, the girl's a guy!" the boy yelped.
"Allen-chan, please don't ever say that again," he sighed to himself.
"Maybe we can ask for directions?" he asked hopefully.
"You're loud," the girlish man growled.
"You're a girl," the boy sneered.
"I'm male, shorty," the man hissed.
"Don't call me short, you girly bastard!" the boy shouted.
"If he's a guy and he looks like a girl, does that make him gay?" the boy asked innocently.
"Who're you calling gay?"
"Allen-chan, be quiet," the boy told himself.
"Fuck, man, I think he is. What kinda guy keeps his hair that lo—"
WHAM. The boy yelped and skittered away from the crater in the wall that his antagonist had just tried to punch into him.
"N-N-Neah, he just punched a hole in the wall!"
"Allen-chan, Mana-kun, please shut up."
"Fuck, Neah, don't hog—"
"Mana-kun, I said shut up."
The man glared at the boy, flexing his hand. "The fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded. "Are you schizo or something?"
"Oh, so close," the boy cooed, smiling as he skipped backward down the hall toward a staircase. "It's actually a split-personality disorder," he informed cheerfully as he teetered briefly on the top step of the stairs before toppling clumsily, bowling into a small figure hurrying up the steps and sending them both tumbling down.