Further from Allen, Nearer to Neah
Icy fingers brushed gently over pale, exposed skin as Allen found himself pressed up against the cool surface of a stone wall.
Gasps and moans mingled together much in the same way as Allen's fingers entangled themselves firmly in the long, silken strands of Kanda's hair. In one fluid move one arm was torn free and flung mercilessly against the wall where slender fingers forcefully interlinked with his own.
He knew that come tomorrow there would be a splendid bruise of the deepest purple blooming across delicate flesh of his roughly treated arm, but right now Allen found he couldn't care less. He didn't want to care.
Not now.
He didn't want to care about anything.
He didn't even want to think.
And, he knew, Kanda was aware of this.
Lips trailed along his collarbone as his shirt, now unbuttoned, slipped down so it hung haphazardly, lower on one side than the other.
Allen's head was pounding it pain. He could barely see straight and his breathing seemed intensely echoed within the depths of his mind. He didn't know where he was anymore. He didn't know where he wanted to be. All that he was aware of was that he was here – wherever that may be – and he was here with Kanda.
He shivered at the iciness of the touch as Kanda's hand glided across the flat plane of his stomach, pushing Allen further against the wall as if he was expecting some form of resistance. In response Allen freed his hand from where it was tangled deeply in Kanda's hair.
For a minute Kanda stiffened, making as if to pull away, perhaps misinterpreting the movement.
For a heart-stopping second Allen was overwhelmed with complete and utter panic. If Kanda pulled away right now, where would that leave him? At the endless mercy of that rapidly worsening pain in his head? To do bitter battle with those whispering, taunting, voices at the back of his mind?
He would no longer be sure of anything. Not where he was, not who he was. Nothing. There would be nothing.
Quickly, Allen ensnared Kanda's wrist in an iron tight grip. They locked eyes for a second, darkened grey clashing with intense silver.
Don't, Allen tried to convey through his gaze, don't leave me right now.
Whether Kanda understood the sheer magnitude of Allen's request, how completely broken he would be if he pulled away right now, Allen knew not. But in the end, it didn't really matter, because Kanda was back, leaning forward so his lips brushed lightly against the younger boys own.
Allen relaxed, easing his grip on Kanda's wrist as the samurai's free fingers tangled themselves in his mussed whited hair, pulling the pair of them closer.
And Allen was able to lose himself again.
He knew, come morning, the pair of them would return to their usual avoidance, the animosity between them that had ceased to exist in this rare, intimate moment would return full-fledged, bringing with it, as it always did, the never abstaining guilt.
And that guilt, he knew also, would torture his already damaged soul sweetly, ravaging the distorted remains irreparably, mixing ever-so potently with the other endless emotions that wreaked havoc openly across the last vestiges of his humanity.
And, possessed in the moment as he so currently was, Allen was blind to it all.
He didn't have to witness his very being falling apart in front him as he stood only to helpless to stop it. He didn't have to wonder who he was. Whether he would be the same person tomorrow as he was today. Was he even him anymore?
He didn't know, he couldn't remember and every morning he awoke it took that much longer to recall who he was.
He was nothing more than a street brat, stealing to survive and – no, that had passed. He was a traveling clown now, with Mana by his side as he – wrong again; Mana was already dead. Cross's disciple struggling desperately stay alive – No, Cross was dead too. An exorcist destined to be the destroyer of time – Uh uh. That was over.
Ah, now he remembered.
He was nobody anymore. No longer was he an exorcist and not quite a Noah, but something trapped in-between.
He was every day closer to losing this 'Allen' and that much nearer to becoming 'Neah'.
And not matter how the guilt of this wicked, stolen moment would torture him in the morn; it was that much less painful than the guilt of not knowing who you were anymore. Of not knowing who anybody else was anymore.
But, in this apparently endless moment where two sets of skin blended seamlessly into one, he could be dead certain of one thing.
So long as he felt the lingering heat of Kanda's last touch ghosting pleasantly down his spine, he was still there.
He still existed.
And, Allen thought dully as he wrapped his arms firmly around Kanda's shoulders to better drag him down to his level; that was more than enough for now.
Until the morning, when the guilt came again.