Okay guys, here we go. C: My first fanfic is off to a great start. I want to get into a habit of putting up a few chapters at a time. This one is pretty long(!), probably because it's the beginning, but not a many of them will be. Maybe, maybe not. Most of it will be in Lavi's point of view, just because I really like him.

I do not own D. Grey-Man, or any of the characters.

Everything is dark. I can't see my hands in front of my face, and it worries me. A lot. A light switches on from somewhere outside of the room I'm in, and I'm blinded, and I can't locate it's source. Once my vision starts to reappear, I quickly notice that the room is pitch white and plain. The floor is concrete, which explains why it's so cold. The light is starting to fade, but it doesn't extinguish completely. I hadn't noticed that a tall, sturdy man has entered the room, and he's standing over me, eerily. Panic sets in and my eyes are scanning him, flashing from one place to another, and lock on what he's holding. It looks like a spoon-

"AH-huh..!" I shoot up from my bed, and my hand instinctively goes to my right eye. It feels like it almost always has, and some how it relaxes me. I can't see the wall to my right, and I swing my head around, just to make sure everything is safe. I sigh and nod to myself, my bright red hair falling into my face. I shoo it out of my sight, and turn to my left, finding my lamp. It flashes on, and I find my eye-patch.

It was just a dream... I tell myself, but I still can't get rid of my nervous feeling. Looking around my room, I notice it's cleaner than when I went to sleep. That means Bookman must be home! I mean... Oh, Bookman's home.

Honestly, I'm excited. He was missing for a while, and I was starting to worry, but now that he's home..!

I don't bother tying on my eye-patch, and stand, rushing out of my room in only my boxers and into the living room, but who's waiting isn't Bookman...

A tall, lean man with bushy hair and almost the same color as mine stands over the counter in my kitchen. He's wearing a dark trench coat and pants, and an odd-shaped hat. I'm confused on who he is, and why he's here, but my first thought is that he's suddenly staring at my face; exactly where I don't want him to. I turn to the right, hiding my 'eye' from his line of sight, and face the wall. I am not backing down. This is my house!

"Who are you..?!" I try not to shout, but, c'mon! Could you blame me?

The man scoffs, and crosses his arms. His thick hair bounces, which I find funny looking, but don't laugh against the urges, and I notices he's wearing half of a mask, which I find pretty odd, but it's even weirder that he has glasses on over the mask. "Fine then, brat. I'll leave you here to rot." He starts walking away.

Wait, what?

"Wait, what?"

He turns back to me, and I shift, making sure the right side of my face is still hidden.

"You heard me. Are you Lavi?" I nod and he continues, "Bookman's sent me to-," he huffs, "Retrieve you."

My eye goes wide, "Bookman?" I hope he'll tell me what's happened, without making me showing too much interest. Sure I worry about that old panda sometimes, but I'm mostly indifferent; I only live with the guy...

The man shuffles, "Yeah, get your stuff, we're leaving. Well, I am." He starts heading out of the house, after grabbing a can from the fridge, which I think was beer, but I'm not going to question him, and since he's gone outside anyway...

I turn around and retreat back into my room, and the first thing I do is tie my eye-patch around the back of my head, wincing as it catches some of my hair. I dress, dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt with a hammer design on it, and a green hoodie, and head back out. I exit through the front door, and find the bushy-haired man standing there, sipping from his...can, and smoking a cigarette, leaned over his car. "Who are you?" I finally demand.

He straightens up, and tosses his cancer-stick, not too concerned about where it lands. "Marian Cross. Get in the car." He smirks, and turns around and opens the door. I rush in front of him, and steal his car keys. It's probably a big mistake, but the deed's done before I can think about it. I dash back inside the house, and I hear him running up behind me, and I hurry to lock to door. I pause and think of any other ways he can sneak in, but I doubt he's willing to try any of the windows. I hurry to lock the back door just in case, and return to the door, where 'Marian Cross' is still standing. It's obvious he's furious; his face matches his hair. I hold back a snicker, and dangle the keys in front of his face. I watch him grit his teeth and pound on the door.

"Now. Where are we going, and why?"

His forehead falls against the glass pane of the door. Did I just break him?

"Bookman is dead." I can tell he's talking through gritted teeth, but can't distinguish what emotion he's holding behind the words.

I falter back. It can't be. I know he isn't... dead? No, the old panda is tougher than that... I unlock the door, and stand in the doorway...

And Cross shoots his hand in, and steals the keys from me. "I am leaving you here, you brat!" He climbs into his car and revs the engine. I run to the passenger's side, and throw the door open. Maybe he won't drive away like this.

I soon realized I'm dead wrong, because the car starts backing out of my short driveway. I panic, and throw myself into the seat. The car keeps moving, so I shut the door, and before I know it, we're speeding around my neighborhood.

"This isn't fair! What's going on? Is Bookman okay..?"

Cross has an expression that seems like a mixture of annoyance and entertainment, like he's enjoying the way I'm squirming under his trick. "Do you really believe that old coot would really bite the dust so soon? Heh. He's going to be gone for a long time, and I'm repaying some old debts for him," he tells me, still furious, but at least his face has returned to normal color.

My eye lands in my lap and I sigh. Leaning back in the seat, I scoff. "You took off before I could grab any clothes," I start to mumble, but I doubt he'll care. "How do you know Bookman? Or... owe him anything?"

Cross' eye seems to twitch. "Work." And that's the end of the conversation. I'm not all too worried about where we're going. If Bookman was dictating how all of this is setup, then I know I'm not going to be in too much danger. Even though, I don't know what it's going to be like when we get there. Am I going to be living with this joker? I don't know how long I'll survive that.

The rest of the ride was silent. Cross smoked some more, and he finished his, what I'm referring to as soda. We went through many exits, neighborhoods and through tunnels. Overall, the ride probably wasn't as long as it felt, but when we finally arrived, I was relieved. He pulled into another short driveway, not unlike mine, but the house was much different. It seemed almost run-down on the outside. The lawn was not very well taken care of, and it was grungy in general. It looked like the house was suppose to be a light green-ish grey, with a single white door signaling the entrance. Cross shut off the car, and turned towards me. "Out." I don't argue.

I leave the car, and it roars back to life behind me. When I turn to look, it was already slipping from the driveway. I roll my eye and walk to the door. Turning the door knob, the door doesn't swing open like it should have. Locked? But he didn't give me a...!

Key... I sigh. Turning around, I slide my back down against the door. Just then, it opens unexpectedly. I fall back into the doorway and look up at who was letting me in. From this angle, it was hard to tell anything about him, except his clean white hair and blue-grey eyes. There was also something weird with his left eye, but I didn't think I was one to judge.

"Oh. You're here." He greets me with a fake smile, and I sit up, rubbing the back of my head. I glance up and see him staring at my eye-patch. I half-heartedly turn my head, so he's at least not looking directly at it, and I shake off the feeling of his eyes.

He bends and offers me a hand getting up. "Ow..." I carefully take his wrist and he helps pull me up slightly less than graceful, but it suffices. "Uh, I guess. Where is here exactly..? That guy Cross-"

The white-haired guy gave a weak chuckle, but at least it's more realistic than his smile. "Yeah, Cross is an ass, but you get used to him. This is Raleigh, North Carolina."

I laugh at his response. Hold on. Did he just get a real laugh out of me? Already? I've got to stop this before it begins. But...

"Um, anyway. He said he was to... Retrieve me? Any idea what he's talking about? Oh, I'm Lavi, by the way."

As I look over him better now that I'm standing, I see he's wearing normal teenager clothes, slightly close-fitting jeans (that I can't help but notice), a long sleeved shirt, seeing that it's still spring, but he's only wearing one glove; on his left hand. This strikes me a little odd, but maybe it's just the fashion around here? But, we're not too far from my house, well, my old house, and at least not across the country, so things shouldn't be that different. But this isn't Maine, so it's a possibility. Maybe I could ask him later?

The guy nods. He seems a lot younger than me, much younger, maybe about thirteen. That's five years younger than I am. It seems weird that I'm asking him for advice, but it is his house. "Yeah. He didn't tell me much. Just that we were going to have a guest for a little while. I'm Allen. Cross is usually busy being drunk so I'm usually home by myself." He tells me this with resentment. Like he hates that fact, but he doesn't seem to fond of Cross, so it's probably for the best that he's always gone anyways. But that means that it's Allen all by himself most of the time. That doesn't seem right.

"Oh, well, now it's just us all alone!" I wink at him, smirking, playing around, and he turns away. Was that a blush? He starts walking away, and waves me over. "C'mon. You don't really have a room yet, but we have a spare room if you have your own mattress and things." I can hear the nerves in his voice.

I'm suddenly embarrassed, knowing that I made him blush...? What's that even suppose to mean? I decide to keep up messing with him anyway, and I smirk to myself, thinking of what might ensue.

"Oh, well I didn't bring anything. Your buddy Cross left without letting me grab anything. I might need to borrow some clothes, and I guess we'll have to sleep together." I might've heard Allen swallow. Are those his ears getting red? I smile to myself, knowing he won't turn around. I wonder what he's thinking of.

He takes me down a hallway, which isn't very long or wide, and I see three doors. He points to the third. "That room's yours." Then the one in the middle, "And that's the bathroom." I nod to him, and glance pointedly at the first one that he didn't mention.

"Does that mean this one's yours?" I walk towards it, laying my hand on the fading, bronze colored handle and-

"N-no! Please, don't go in there."

"Hmm?" I look up at him, and I can barely recognize the panic in his eyes, but it's fading quickly, like he's trying to hide it.

"I mean... It's really messy, you might trip. And we wouldn't want that!" He laughs, light-heartedly, and his right hand shoots to rub his neck, nervous. I throw my hands up. "Okay, okay. I surrender. I guess it would be best if I didn't fall and smash up my super hot face."

I watch intently as Allen tries to roll his eyes and shake off the comment, but he blushes anyway as he turns away from me. "Just, please stay out of my room?"

I nod sincerely and he walks away, but I can't help one more glance at the door. What's in there that he didn't want me to see so badly?

ooOIOoo

Damnit, Cross... Why do you have to be such an ass? Ugh...

As soon as I opened the door I knew having this 'guest' wasn't going to be overly thrilling. Well, until he stood up. That sorta changed things. It made more difficult. Lavi was going to prove to be a huge pain in the neck. I was barely able to stop him from sneaking into my room!

I quickly lead him away and out into the living room. I didn't feel I had to introduce it, seeing the couch and the TV, but I felt like it anyway. "Living room... And the kitchen is through there," I tell Lavi, pointing to a large doorway without a door. I turn enough to see him nod, and he slowly moves towards the couch, like he's waiting for me to tell him not to. When I don't say anything, he sits down and props his hands behind his head, slouching back into the cusions. "I guess this is where you'll be staying. I don't think Cross will mind if you sleep on the couch. I don't have a car yet, but maybe once Cross is back we can take his and grab your stuff?"

Lavi's eye seems to go wide. He sits up, and leans his elbows on his knees. "How old are you?" He asks, not bothering to hide his astonishment. I toss him a fake smile. "I'm almost seventeen. Why? How old are you?" Lavi blinks, and he leans back again, and nods as if to say, 'not bad!'

"I'm a few months away from nineteen. But, by a few, I mean seven or eight. Too bad; that's still considered rape." Lavi beams at me, and I turn away quickly, knowing I won't be able to mask my concern and blush fast enough. Why am I blushing at that? It's a joke! It's funny! Although I can't get rid of my thoughts quick enough. What?! He's hardly been here for a half an hour! I mentally face-palm. But he is fairly h-

"I'll be in the kitchen."

I hear him laugh, and he might have gotten up to follow me, but I'm not sure. I'm too preoccupied. I turn to the fridge and pull out two cans. I pass through the doorway back into the living room and-

How'd I get on the floor? And why does my ass hurt...? And why am I sticky...?

I look up and see Lavi staring down at me. I try my best to keep myself composed, "Oh, I'm sorry..! A-are you okay?"

I see his hand reach down to help me up and I take it, and when he pulls me on to my feet, he nearly tosses me through the roof. I gulp.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you if you're okay? You're the one who just took a spill...!"

Does he mean...? I look down at myself. Yes, literally. The cans of soda burst and almost all of the kitchen and my clothes are covered in it. I grunt to myself in frustration, then carefully dash over to get some paper towels to clean up the floor, but Lavi's voice stills me.

"Hey, you go get changed, I'll clean up. This is my house too, now, right?" He beams at me again, and once again I feel my face heat up. I swear he's doing this on purpose. Either way, I'm nervous. I'll be changing with practically a stranger in the house. How am I positive he won't barge in? I'm not as worried that he'll see me in my boxers, but instead...

"Oh, yeah. Sure, thanks." It feels like I just agreed away my soul. I march off to my room anyway. Once inside, I kick away whatever dirty clothes are in my way, and pick up some on the top. I give them a good sniff, and when they smell clean enough, I throw them on my bed. Meandering over, I'm pulling my shirt over my head when I hear Lavi again.

"Allen! Where are the extra paper towels?"

Walking to my door, I don't dare open it without a shirt on. Hopefully he can hear me through the wood.

"Underneath the sink!"

He must've, because I hear the cupboard creak open, and squeak shut. I nod in satisfaction, and pull on the 'clean' shirt I found. I change my jeans too, and notice the shirt I was wearing has a little tan stain. I gulp, and run to the bathroom. What I suspected was true; the coverup that Cross bought me as a gag gift one year, but actually came in handy once and a while, had smeared, and the deep red scar over my left eye was clearly visible. I sigh. Lavi would have to find out sooner or later.

Leaving my room, I wonder what he'll think, but then my thoughts stray to the fact that he has an entire eye-patch, not just a measly scar. Hopefully it won't bother him much, but myself, looking at the scar, am reminded of the day I got it; the day my father died.

"Allen! What happened to your eye?! Are you okay?"

Lavi shocks me out of my trance, and I suddenly remember where I am, and what I'm doing. I'm in the living room, and Lavi has his hands grasped firmly on my shoulders. I look up at him and remember what he's talking about.

"Oh, yeah. It's okay, it's not new. It's just a scar." I'm not too enthused about saying it. Not that I have anything against scars in particular, just the memories they bring.

"Oh..." Lavi takes his hands off my shoulders. Maybe he's surprised at how fresh it looks, like a new wound that hasn't even scabbed over yet, but has stopped bleeding. His hands settle at his sides, but neither of us moves. Slowly, I notice him raise his right hand, the one closest to my left side. Carefully, like he's worried he might scare me away, he brings his hand towards my face and gently moves the hair that has fallen in my face away from the scar, and his fingertips ghost across my forehead, and he stares at it well, taking in the appearance like he's never allowed to forget it. I can tell when his eye reaches the star, the pentagram-looking shape, because he takes a breath that I know was meant to be a gasp, but stopped a little late. "What-"

I know he was going to ask what had happened. He was going to pry and look for the story behind my scar, but right now, now that my thoughts are wandering away from Lavi and towards that dreaded day, I am having none of it. Before he can finish his sentence, I turn and walk back to my room. Before slamming the door behind me, I half-turn back towards him, hardly able to face him. "Thanks for cleaning up the kitchen."

The door doesn't slam, and instead I'm left sitting on my bed, in my messy room, the door shut and the lights off.

ooOIOoo

Allen just brushed me off, but it seemed more than that. He seemed scared, and worst of all sad. Why? How ever he got that scar, the incident must have caused him great pain, physical and mental. Would he talk to me about it? The way he ran off to his room like a beaten puppy told me no, but I wouldn't stop there. I had a new mission while I was stuck here; help Allen open up.

We'd be going to the same school, seeing that he was actually sixteen, and not twelve like I had thought. Maybe we might have some classes together, too. I'm sure he'll love that, I joke to myself. He's probably going to hate me for what I'll be saying to him, but I think that's okay. Now to decipher what that blush meant...

I realize I'm still standing where Allen left me, in the middle of the living room, still facing his door. I sigh when I look at that dull door knob again, but leave to sit on the couch.

I sit sideways, so f he does decide to come back out and join me (which he probably won't) I'll be able to see him. My leg is bent and I'm sitting on it, hoping it won't fall asleep. I look for a TV remote. The TV is small, and I can tell its old just by how chunky and heavy it looks. When there isn't a remote, I stand and hit the buttons with my finger. I don't care what comes on, just something to let Allen know I'm still here. I sit back down to watch paid programming.

So Allen blushed at me, huh? Interesting. Does that mean he's...? No, he can't be gay. He doesn't look the part, but then again, I'm still no one to judge. I look over myself. Nope. I guess he looks more gay than I do...

But if he's gay, then that means he has a crush on me..? I smirk at the idea. And he showed me his scar that he had originally hidden, but maybe that was by accident; that soda went everywhere and it could have washed it off. But then again, he didn't re-cover it.

I come to the conclusion that he wants to let me in, but something, like that pain in his eyes, is holding him back. I start to wonder how many friends he has at school...

By the time my thoughts have finished wandering, I look up and see almost three hours have passed, and Allen is still locked up his room. What's he been thinking about?

I stand and walk to his door. He must hear me, because the floorboards creak under my bare feet. I stand in front of the door, thinking about knocking.

Another tense ten minutes and my knuckles come down to rap on the wood. I cringe at the noise every time they do. It's extra loud in this silent house.

I don't hear anything at the other side of the door. "Allen?"

I don't dare open the door, but I continue in hope he's listening. "Allen, its late. If you want, I'll make lunch. But I can't promise it will be edible..."

I hear a small laugh, and know he's okay. Well, for the most part at least. I hear him stand and I yak a step away from the door. It swing open and Allen sneaks out. I smile at him, and he responds with a genuine smile of his own, making mine bigger.

"That's okay. I'll cook today, even though you're probably better than I am." He rubs his neck.

I can hear in his voice that he's calmed down, but he's still upset deep down somewhere. I wonder where, and if he'll let me reach there one day. I smirk to myself; make more jokes.

I bow, "A woman's place is in the kitchen."

He doesn't blush (or he's getting better at subduing it), but he rolls his eyes and walks off to the kitchen, and I make sure we're a safe distance apart, as to not repeat this morning. He starts scrounging around the kitchen, in cupboards and the fridge, but there's hardly anything there.

"We have rice... Or... Bread crumbs. Take your pick," he jokes. I huff and its my turn to roll my eyes. He looks at me like he's thinking to suggest something, but thinks better of it. His sight returns to the practically empty refrigerator. "Hmm..."

"What?" I ask, when I hear him pondering something. He stands with something in his hand. I can't tell what it is, but it's red and floppy.

"Do you know how to work a grill?" Allen holds the thing to my face, and I assume its a steak. I push his hand down with mine, "Maybe we should go shopping..."

"Heh. Not a bad idea."

ooOIOoo

I close the fridge and take Lavi's advice. I have some extra food cash from a little while ago, but my savings are getting low. I fix my hair over my scar in my reflection in the fridge while he's not looking, and start off. But...

"The store isn't too far, but how'll we get back if we have groceries?"

I guess he hadn't thought that far. Or he was using it as bait for a trap. "I guess we'll have to go out somewhere," he says, and I slowly work my way up to panicking. He puts his finger to his chin, "I wonder if there's anyone around who'd like to go with me?"

I can't help but laugh, and swat at him. He's just joking. I really need to drop all of these insane thoughts about him. He wouldn't like me like that. He's straight or something. Either way, it's me we're talking about here. I'd never be able to open up enough for any kind of friendship, and why would he want me to? I'm disgusting. He's just going to live down the hall for a short while, then this will be all over. Good.

I feel the skin under my only glove start to twitch, and I'm suddenly sick to my stomach. I walk out into the living room, hoping he can't see my expression. I sit down casually on the sofa and rest my elbows on my knees, hoping to make it go away, but I don't think the feeling is going anywhere soon.

Lavi follows me out, and I can't tell if he saw or not. I look up at him and he sits down on my left. "You coming?"

He elbows my arm just above the joint, and I stand up quickly, before either of know what happened. He looks somewhat surprised, but hides it quickly. I shake my head to cover it up, "No, I'm getting over a cold, and my stomach hurts," I lie.

He looks up at me. "Oh. Okay then." He tells me his phone has GPS, and he should be able to get there and back safely and without getting lost. I nod at him, and offer some money, but he declines. I nod again and sit back down as he stands. I can't shake the feeling that he's suspicious about me somehow. Lavi takes off, and I watch him walk down the sidewalk through the window.

Sighing, I pull off my left glove and yank up my sleeve, looking at the scar. There's a slightly darker patch, and I feel the breakfast I had before Lavi arrived resurface. After I compose myself, I look again. It's such an ugly red color, it's hard to believe its just a scar, and that the arm still functions. Lightly, I rake my fingertips over the skin, and it feels like leather. My fingernails are black on that hand, and I need to keep them short so they don't tear apart my glove. I make a mental note to take care of that later, and pull the sleeve down again. My glove goes in my pocket and I walk into the kitchen. I pour a glass of water and leave to clean my room.

It isn't a half hour before I hear the door open and close. I hurry and throw on my glove, tucking my sleeve into the thing before going out to greet Lavi. He has three paper bags in his hands and holds them out to me. I take one, confused, and lay the other on the coffee table in front of the couch that we use as a dining table when we're not in our rooms respectively.

I sit and Lavi's at my right this time. He must have noticed how I jumped earlier. This calms me down enough that my appetite starts coming back.

"I knew you would be hungry, so I got to-go. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got all of it," he beams. My eyes go wide, and he starts laughing almost hysterically. He shakes his head while he's laughing and chokes out, "Just kidding." But there is a lot of food here.

I open a bag and it's all french fries, almost to the brim. I grab a couple and shove them into my mouth, and I realize I'm starving. He laughs, taking a couple, and starts emptying out the other bags.

We eat, well, I eat most of the food, and we're laying on the couch, our hands on our stomachs.

"And I thought I could eat," Lavi announces.

I groan in response. "No dessert?"

He laughs, "No, and please don't eat me as a substitution." I laugh, noticing I've been getting more real around him. That's more unnerving to me than anything.

"Sorry about this morning."

I turn and see Lavi leaning back as usual, his vision plastered to his lap. I have a clean view of his good eye, and he doesn't look up at me.

"It-... It's okay. I just... I don't like talking about it."

I think he nods. "I know the feeling."

Is he talking about his own eye? I do sort of wonder about what happened, but I don't have the guts to ask. He probably won't tell me anyway, so I leave the topic alone.

I look up at the clock and its already five thirty in the evening. What can we do to pass the time...?

I stand up and flip on the tv, and sit back down at the foot of the couch, leaning on my arm over the arm of the couch. We sit for a while, simply watching tv in silence.

ooOIOoo

I'm almost dosing off when Allen shakes me by my knee. "Hey. We have school tomorrow," he tells me.

I haven't realized that I must have slouched and now I'm leaning over the arm of the couch. "Hmm..? Well, who's here to make sure we get there?"

Allen rolls his eyes and doesn't answer. Obviously, he is.

I get up, listening to my joints crack. "Well I'm sleeping here." I say, gesturing to the couch I'm on. He doesn't say anything, and heads towards his room.

"Night."

I look up at him as he disappears behind his door, and I suddenly feel lonely. I sigh and collect the accent pillows at the ends of the couch. I strip down to my boxers, folding my jeans, t-shirt and hoodie and set them on the coffee table. Stacking the pillows under my head, I hear Allen's door open, and he walks over and throws a blanket over the back of the sofa. He doesn't get close. "Thanks Allen. Sweet dreams." I check to make sure my eye-patch isn't loose before he lets loose a small laugh, and his door closes again, and I'm left to my dreams. Luckily, they weren't haunted by the past tonight.

First chapter? I think so! Another chapter later? I'm not sure; maybe. I am having a lot of fun writing this. I just love how I plan to write something, and what is actually typed up, doesn't even resemble what I plan out. But that's okay, because this is a lot better!

Most of this will be in Lavi's perspective, just because I love Lavi to the ends of the Earth, especially how I'm allowed to portray him in fanfics. xD Some will be in Allen's perspective, only in odd moments like this, and when you need to get his thoughts on things. Like Lavi. C;

Anyway, this is how it's going to work, if you haven't deciphered it yourself already. Something simply italics means it's thoughts, and whatever is in quotes is speech. Any paragraphs of only italics is a dream, or a flash back or something (will be specified at the time). This: "ooOIOoo" will signify a P.O.V. change, which won't be announced who's perspective it's in, but will be obvious by what's going on, unless someone asks me otherwise.

Anyway, review, crits, suggestions, whatever and HUGELY welcome, seeing as this is my first real fan-fiction (although not my first time writing, not by a long shot. C;)