Title: Unravelled at the Seams
Summary: Nights were when Lavi felt most real. The morning light and empty room haunted him. Light Allen/Lavi ficlet.
Notes: Title and inspiration from The Hush Sound's "Don't Wake Me Up".
Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man and its characters.
The nights were the best.
Lavi would wait up in his room. He waited until the moon was high in the sky and Allen would arrive. They would smile, and sometimes Allen would laugh, a small chuckle that somehow managed to sound loud in the room. When he did Lavi would laugh too, though he never knew what they were laughing about. But it seemed right. It seemed right to laugh over nothing.
Allen often chose a spot near the headboard, to curl around a pillow. He always seemed like a cat with his eyes glimmering in the candlelight. Lavi would sprawl out beside him, grabbing a pillow for himself to hug around his middle. Allen was a warm presence, all floppy hair and half-lidded eyes.
Sometimes they would talk. About anything, everything. Allen asked Lavi questions that he did his best to answer. Questions on how Lenalee was, and if Kanda was still travelling. Sometimes Lavi didn't know, and Allen would tease him on how he was a failure of a Bookman. Lavi spoke of the places and people he had seen, the wars that never ended – he knew his secrets were safe with Allen. He would prod Allen about his life, but Allen would smile, and his eyes would become shadowed in something Lavi never dared to understand.
But more often than not they would be quiet. Lavi was contented to read a book in Allen's presence. Allen might putter around if he bothered to uncurl from his position. Sometimes he would even help Lavi clean up his room, despite Lavi's protests that it wasn't of any use, and that Allen was disturbing his carefully ordered chaos. They might unearth some hidden trove of food that even Lavi had forgotten was there, so often did he dive into and stay in the world of texts and history and words. He had learnt to not offer Allen any. Allen seemed to like watching as he nibbled at some biscuits though.
And most of the time they would just lie side by side, Allen curled around his favourite pillow. Allen's hair brushing Lavi's shoulders, and Lavi's fingers resting against the curve of Allen's knee. They would wait in silence as the moon set and the sky lightened. The candles in the room would burn out – they could only see each other in the faint light of the gray sky. Allen's hair was pale in the morning light, and his skin seemed ashen.
Don't go, Lavi would want to say. But the words would be stuck in his throat. Allen would close his eyes, and Lavi would do so too, helpless. His fingers would rest against air as Allen left. No pressure on the bed, no door opening and closing. He would just be gone.
When Lavi woke up, the light would be shining through the window. Try as he might, he wouldn't be able to find Allen's scent on the pillow. Lavi would close his eye again, and when he opened it he was Bookman once more, travelling to record the hidden history of the world.