Happy birthday Lavi, and happy Laven week too ~ *heart*
This fic is dedicated to the most amazing person I know ~ I love you :')
Summary: When Lavi's mother dies, his life begins to change in ways that he would never have expected, especially after he becomes the big brother to a baby called Allen. And what does this man called Froi Tiedoll want, and what exactly is the Black Order School for Lost and Abandoned Children? AU for Lavi's birthday and Laven Week.
Rating: T rated for violence and language.
Pairing: Laven, though in more of a brotherly way ~
Disclaimer: I do not own D Gray Man, Katsura Hoshino does (bring Lavi back, damn you *cries in a corner*)
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You shut your mouth, how can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
The Smiths - How Soon Is Now?
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Snapshots of the Heart
Chapter 1 - Change
In the dim pre-dawn twilight, a little boy wandered the streets.
Carried in his arms precariously, water sloshing to and fro as he walked, was a bucket of water from the nearest well; it was a dim brown in colour, and smelt a little of the nearby river, which had sewage released into it.
The boy was poor, and he did not have taps that provided fresh water on demand, unlike the rich people further uptown; this disease-ridden, filthy excuse for water was all he had.
Trying his best to not spill the water everywhere the young boy carried on walking, his single green eye peering into the brightening darkness as he made his way home. He shivered as a sudden wind cut through him, his thin clothes that were more rags than actual clothing doing nothing to keep him warm.
The boy was pale, the grey light making him appear almost apparitional in appearance, the black eyepatch covering his right eye further harshening his looks. His bright red hair stood out brightly in the twilight, like a fiery beacon amongst the monochrome world around him.
By the time the sun started to peak its head over the rooftops above him the boy was nearly home, walking down familiar cobbled streets that were in dire need of repair. Lining the street on either side were piles and piles of rubbish, making the air virtually impossible to breathe in without coughing. The boy took a deep breath in and held it, increasing his pace as he walked to try and make it home without taking another breath.
Just as the boy swore he might pass out from lack of oxygen, he reached the tiny house that was his Home Sweet Home.
"Hui lai le!" [I'm home!]
The boy closed the rickety wooden door behind him with one foot, walking down the hallway with the bucket in his arms. He entered the first room on the right hand side, putting the bucket down beside a small oven. The boy then re-entered the hallway, making his way all the way down it before entering through a door to his left.
The boy could scarcely keep from grinning as he chuckled mischievously, edging forwards quietly, taking care not to make a sound as he stepped on the wooden floorboards beneath him. Then, with a cry, he jumped into the bed in front of him and smiled brightly.
"Zăoān, māmā!" [Morning, Mama!]
Blinking a few times sleepily a beautiful woman with bright green eyes and raven black hair, which shimmered like silk in the brightening daylight, sat up and rolled her eyes at the boy before her.
She poked her son in the stomach, smiling gently and using her other hand to ruffle his hair affectionately. The boy blushed a little and hugged the woman tightly, smiling warmly.
The woman said nothing. She was unable to speak.
Because of this, the boy had no name. His mother had been dumb since before he had been born, and the boy knew no-one else but his mother; she was all he had in the world. He had picked up what little Mandarin he knew from people he overheard in the streets, and he was completely unable to read nor write.
He had no idea when he had even been born, either.
Getting out of bed, and letting his mother have some time to wake up, the red headed boy went back down the hallway into the room where he had placed the bucket, pouring some of the water into a small metal pan and putting it on the oven, with a little difficulty.
Just as the water started to boil the boy's mother walked into the kitchen, stretching as she did so. She smiled at her son, ruffling his hair and getting some rice from a sack by her feet, pouring it into the pan.
Not long afterwards, the rice was cooked and, getting out two cracked wooden bowls, mother and son sat down on the floor to eat, using their hands to pick up the cooling rice, eating eagerly.
"Māmā chī fàn!"
They often did not have a lot to eat, so they ate every three days, sparing their measly portions of rice so that it lasted longer. It left the two of them looking awfully thin, especially the little boy. He had long since stopped asking for more food, knowing that there wasn't enough to spare.
He remembered the time famine hit the area, and they had virtually no rice for ages. His mother stopped eating for nearly a month, leaving the meagre remainders for him despite how weak and close to death she got.
The boy's mother meant everything to him so, whatever trials they had to overcome, he did it all for her.
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She died that summer.
The boy had no idea what had happened, or how it had occurred. The night before had been completely normal, the two of them going to sleep when the sun set, his mother's arms wrapped around him as he drifted off into his unconscious.
When he woke that morning his mother was stone cold, eyes half-open and staring at him; they were a dull green, slightly glazed over and completely devoid of life. Her skin was grey, and her body had gone into rigor mortis.
"M-m-māmā?"
The poor boy tried to turn to face his mother, but found himself unable to due to the tight grip her dead hands had on him. Panicking, the boy tried to shove his mother away, heart racing hard and fast in his chest.
Struggling fiercely, tears starting to form in his eye, the boy managed to break free and push his mother away. She fell off the bed with a loud thunk.
"Māmā?"
The red headed child crept over the edge of the bed, sniffing as tears started to slide down his cheeks. His mother lay on her back, eyes still half open, her chest not rising and falling as it did with the living.
The boy let out a sob as he fell off the bed, grabbing his mother and hugging her tightly, crying bitterly. Hot salty tears dripped down onto his mother's freezing cold skin, sliding down her own cheeks onto the dusty floor beneath them.
The boy could not remember how long he stayed like that, crying over his dead mother's body. He couldn't remember if the sun filtering through a nearby window signified the dawn of one day, or the dawn of many days since his mother had died.
Standing up shakily, having no more tears left to cry, the young red head left the room, heading into the kitchen and making himself a bowl of rice. He ate it with a blank expression, saying 'māmā chī fàn' even though his mother was not in the room, nor even alive.
After he had finished, his single green eye red-rimmed and puffy from crying, the boy left the house. He walked down the street for what felt like endless hours, passing people who took no more notice of him than he did of them. After what seemed like an eternity, the boy reached the town's graveyard.
Sitting inside of a little hut, reading a dirty magazine, was the town's gravedigger. The man smelt like bad cheese, his long grey hair and beard straggly with knots and old bits of food. He coughed a lot, and often spat large globules of black phlegm into the dusty ground beneath his feet.
After a little while the man noticed the little boy's presence. Wordlessly, the boy took his hand and pulled him towards his house. The man said nothing. When they reached the boy's home, the little red head pushing the door open and closing it behind the gravedigger, he led the bearded man into the bedroom, pointing at his mother with a shaking hand, tears building in his eye again.
Nodding in understanding, the gravedigger picked the woman up, giving a whistle of appreciation at her beauty before heading back towards the graveyard, the woman's son following close behind.
When they reached the graveyard the bearded man dropped the woman into an empty grave, picking up a nearby shovel and dumping dirt on top of her body. The little red headed child, who was now an orphan, stood and stared blankly as his mother disappeared into the ground beneath them.
The gravedigger finished shovelling dirt after an hour or so, sweating and coughing every few seconds, constantly spitting out gunk onto the ground. He gave the boy a nod before returning to his hut, leaving the red head alone.
The boy shook as he started to cry once more, falling to his knees before his mother's unmarked grave. He buried his face in his hands, repeatedly calling for his mother over and over, his heart twisting painfully in his chest.
It was nightfall by the time the boy decided to leave and go back home, hugging his arms around himself in an effort to keep himself together, despite his whole world falling apart. He was cold, trembling as he walked to a cold empty house, dark and unwelcoming.
Not feeling hungry, the boy crept into bed, continuing to hug himself as he cried himself to sleep, alone in a world that cared not if he was alive nor dead.
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When the rice ran out, the boy knew he had no choice but to leave and find some food.
The red head had not left home once since his mother's death, so the midday sunlight almost blinded him as he stumbled out of the front door, giving his home one last look before he left.
The streets were busy, many people moving to and fro from the central part of town to the outskirts. The little boy felt scared and oh so alone as he walked, constantly being walked into and shoved over on occasion as he tried to think of where to go.
The boy had no other family apart from his mother, and he had no friends either. He had no idea where to go, and hot frustrated tears started to well up in his eye as he continued to walk with no purpose.
Then, noticing a beggar along the way, the boy found his way of earning money.
The boy couldn't write a sign, since he was unable to write, so he simply stood at a street corner near the central part of town, sticking his hands out at random strangers in the hope that someone would be kind enough to spare him some change.
The entire day passed him by, and not a single person gave him any money at all.
Settling down where he was, shivering as night descended upon him, the boy couldn't bring himself to return home; the loneliness was getting to him, and it was driving him insane to sleep alone with no-one there to hold him.
So the boy hoped he wouldn't freeze to death, though a darker part of his mind said it wouldn't be a bad thing. He curled up on that street corner, shaking violently as he shut his eye and tried to sleep.
Eventually, pure exhaustion won out over being cold.
When the red head woke up the next morning, he was so cold that he could scarcely move. Tears slid down his cheek as he found himself unable to even sit up. As the sun rose, and people started to walk past, the bright rays of light eventually warmed the boy up.
However, just as he was about to try and attempt to sit up, someone dropped a coin by his face.
Blinking, and taking the coin greedily and hiding it in his torn shirt, the boy decided that him being curled up like some unwanted animal seemed to garner sympathy.
He spent the rest of the day like that, curled up and grabbing the money that people dropped by his face quickly, stuffing it inside his ripped shirt in case someone stole it, or changed their mind. By the time evening rolled by once more, the boy had a reasonable amount of change in his shirt.
Feeling nervous that it could be taken while he slept the boy refused to sleep, sitting up with his arms wrapped around himself, fighting against the cold and his drooping eyelids with a fierce determination.
Though his mother, his sole reason for living, was gone, he was going to fight to stay alive for her sake.
Days passed, the mornings always cold and bitter. The red head found himself unable to move until the sun rose though, even then, he curled up in a ball to earn more money.
The boy didn't exactly know how much he needed for food; his mother had always bought the food for the both of them, so he never found out how much she gave the shop owner. But he thought a week's worth of begging would be enough so, at the end of that day after more coins being dropped on him, the red headed child decided to leave his spot and find some food.
The inner town was busy, and there were so many people that the boy feared he would loose his money if someone crashed into him. Ducking and weaving between people, being extra careful not to be knocked over, the boy eventually made it to the food stalls. The smell was mouth-watering, and the boy's stomach gave a loud grumble as he stared, wide eyed, at all the food he could see.
He didn't even know where to start so, deciding to eat something familiar, the boy found a stall that sold rice with brown lumps of meat. Pointing to the dish, he tried to get the attention of the stall owner. But the man behind the stall was too busy serving other people, and the little red head was left ignored and unattended to.
The boy waited. And waited. And kept waiting until he swore his stomach was going to burst.
Then, eventually, all the other people around the stall left. So, bucking up his courage, the red head walked forwards and pointed to the bowl of rice and meat, giving the stall owner an eager hungry look. The man tilted his head and asked for money, so the boy gave him a handful of coins.
It seemed to be enough, for the stall owner nodded and gave the red head his food and left him to it.
Almost drooling with anticipation, the little red head walked down the street to an abandoned doorstep, sitting on it and picking up the food before him with his fingers. The meat was slightly sticky, but tasted heavenly to the boy as he savoured every single bite of the delicious food.
The rice came next, tasting amazing due to soaking up the sauce and juices from the tender meat. It was by far the tastiest dish the boy had ever eaten, having been raised on bowls of plain rice his entire life.
Suddenly, the boy heard the cries of a very young child.
In the alleyway just in front of the red head a woman ran out, face blank and expressionless as she ran down the street, pulling her coat tighter around her. Blinking a few times, the cries continuing, the young red head walked into the alleyway cautiously.
Sitting on the cold damp floor, crying loudly and tearfully, was a little brunette boy, who was at least 3 or so years younger than the red head. Tears slid down over pale cheeks, silver eyes panic filled and blurry as the boy sobbed, hands balled into fists.
Not knowing what to say, since his Mandarin was limited and the boy before him did not look remotely Chinese at all, though neither did the red head necessarily, the red head cautiously knelt before the crying brunette and smiled.
The brunette toddler stopped crying immediately, silver eyes wide as he blinked. Then, with a little giggle, the young boy poked the red head's cheek and smiled. Pouting, the red head picked the boy up and, wondering momentarily what the hell he was doing, he headed out of the alleyway.
He had suddenly become a big brother, when he could barely take care of himself.
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Only a few hours after he found the abandoned toddler in the alleyway, the red head decided that he needed a name for himself, and the boy he was taking care of too.
It was getting awkward when the little boy wandered off, and the poor red head wanted to call for him but had no idea what to say. He also wanted the brunette to call him something, when he learnt how to speak, but he had no idea what to call himself.
Sitting down and counting coins, keeping them away from the little toddler before he swallowed them, the red head wracked his brain for a name. He wanted something that suited him, something that represented him and what he stood for.
He wanted a name that his mother would have liked.
This made the boy's heart twist painfully, but a little poke and quiet babble from the brunette baby made the red head smile and ruffle his brown hair affectionately. Just then, a snuffling sound made the both of them look up.
Sniffing the little brunette's bare feet was a dog; it was white, with brown splodges all over it. It nibbled the brunette's toe lightly, making the little child wail and hold onto the red headed boy beside him tightly, kicking his little legs to try and get the dog away from him.
"Allen! Allen, come here!"
Standing a few feet away was a man, dressed in a smart white shirt and black trousers, his long dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail. The dog sat up sharply then trotted back obediently to its master.
The man gave the two boys a lingering look before he walked away, his dog following close behind.
"Allen..."
The red head said this name over and over, somehow liking the sound of it. Then, looking down at the baby beside him, the red head suddenly grinned and picked the brunette up.
"Allen!"
The toddler mumbled a few words of gibberish before picking at the red head's eyepatch. Pouting, the red head slapped the little hands away, starting to think more on what his own name should be.
Allen, as the brunette baby was now called, gave an indignant sound at being seemingly ignored so, as punishment, Allen jabbed a little finger into the red head's eye. The older child yelped in pain and grabbed Allen's hand, glaring and shaking his head. The brunette's lip wobbled, and soon enough the toddler was crying.
Sighing irritably, yet feeling guilty at the same time, the red head kissed Allen on the head and gave him a small apologetic smile. The baby soon hushed and, giggling playfully, Allen reached forwards and yanked the red head downwards, kissing his forehead sloppily.
Laughing at Allen's antics, and deciding the two of them needed food, the red head put the coins in his shirt then picked Allen up, hoisting him onto his shoulders; he remembered when his mother did this for him when they went to town. Plus, it stopped Allen from running off into crowds of people.
Soon enough the two of them reached the Food District of the town, and the smell of food wafted over the two of them. Allen eagerly looked this way and that, bright silver eyes wide as he pointed and babbled at different types of food, making the red head laugh.
Eventually, stopping at a stall that sold sweet food, the two boys stared at lines and lines of what looked like white balls on sticks, a brown sauce covering them. Allen practically jumped with excitement and tried to reach over the red head's head to get to the food, making frustrated noises when he was unable to.
Chuckling, the red head gave some money to the stall owner and managed to get two sticks of the weird food. Then, heading to a free doorstep near to the stall, the red head put Allen down and gave him a stick of food.
Giving a loud happy cry, Allen tried to jam one of the balls into his mouth whole. Upon realising that this was never going to work, covering most of his face in the brown sauce in the process, Allen eventually settled for taking a bite out of the sticky ball.
The red head couldn't help but laugh at Allen's attempts to eat, contentedly tucking into his own food at the same time; the balls and sauce tasted sweet, the taste of them lingering on the red head's tongue long after he had eaten all the balls on the stick.
When Allen had finished, which took much much longer, the red head put Allen on his shoulders again and made his way down the street aimlessly, not knowing where to go. They passed through the Food District and ended up in the market, where most of the tourists went during the day to buy souvenirs.
Though Allen seemed interested in the items he saw, especially the toys and children's books, the red head passed the stalls by, ignoring them; he often went there with his mother when he was younger, and the memories from before pained him.
Suddenly, they came to a stand that sold Hebrew name plaques, which could be put on people's doors and such. A drawing could be seen beside the symbols, which showed what the name represented. There were a few people there, and one of them was holding up a name plaque with a lion on it.
The red head walked up to the stall curiously, the drawing of the lion catching his eye; the lion had a deep orange mane, which was the red head's favourite colour, and bright amber eyes. The man behind the stall was talking in a foreign language to the red head, so none of what he said made sense.
However, the red head noticed that whenever the man pointed to the symbols beside the lion, he said 'Lavi'. For a reason that he couldn't explain the red head liked the name, making him smile as he said it in his mind over and over.
Yes, he liked the name 'Lavi'.
"Lavi?" the red head asked Allen, looking up at the brunette toddler and smiling, pointing at himself. The brunette blinked a few times before speaking some mindless gibberish, but the smile Allen gave as he spoke was enough confirmation for the red head.
"Lavi."
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As it started to get dark, Lavi began to wonder where he was going to sleep that night.
Though he could sleep outside and survive the night, despite him worrying that he would become so cold that he would never be able to move, Lavi didn't want Allen to sleep outside. Plus he didn't want anyone to take Allen away somewhere whilst he slept.
So, deciding he didn't have much choice, Lavi took Allen with him back to his old home. Even though Lavi had only spent a week sleeping on the streets, it felt like it had been months since he had been home.
Allen gave a curious noise when they reached the house, kicking his little feet as he looked up at the building before them with wide eyes. Lavi smiled a bittersweet smile as he opened the front door, putting Allen down so he could walk in by himself.
"Hui lai le!" [I'm home!]
Lavi sighed sadly, looking down at his dirty bare feet with clenched fists. Then, taking a few tentative steps forward, Allen took a deep breath in and suddenly loudly said something that vaguely resembled 'Hui lai le', but sounded more like 'hoo lally lello'. The brunette then looked up at Lavi with the most adorable expression, looking as if he wanted Lavi to tell him he had said it right.
Grinning, Lavi picked Allen up and gave him a tight hug, earning a delighted giggle in reply. Then, heading down the corridor with Allen in his arms, Lavi showed him each of the rooms, swinging Allen into the doorway before pulling him back to his chest, making the brunette laugh and clap his hands with a bright smile.
When they reached the bedroom, Allen gave a loud noise and tried to pull away from Lavi, pouting when he found himself unable to break free. Lavi chuckled and put Allen down on the bed. The brunette crawled across the mattress, mumbling to himself before he reached the pillow and curled up, falling asleep in seconds.
Lavi blinked a few times before laughing, finding the sight of the little boy fast asleep heart-warming. As Lavi crawled in to bed beside Allen, resting his head on the pillow with a sigh, he couldn't quite get over the events of the day.
In a matter of hours, Lavi had become a big brother and found a name for himself and the boy he was taking care of. He didn't quite know why he was so attached to Allen already, nor who would abandon their child in some dank dirty alleyway.
But, for a reason that Lavi couldn't explain, he wanted to take care of Allen and be a good brother to him, even if they weren't related in the slightest.
Smiling, closing his eye and putting an arm around Allen, Lavi fell asleep hoping that his mother was proud of him.
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The next week was very challenging for Lavi.
Though Allen could be sweet and well-behaved on occasion, the little brunette could become the most troublesome child to deal with in a matter of seconds. Lavi had to deal with a number of tantrums, especially when Lavi had to constantly stop Allen from running out of the house, and when he told Allen off for using the hallway as a toilet.
Lavi had no idea how to deal with that particular issue; he had always used the small grassy area behind the house as a toilet, since they didn't have one in the house, but Allen was too young to know that he had to do it outside.
So, trying his best to deal with it, Lavi tried to make Allen give him a sign when he needed to go. By the third or fourth day, after much scrubbing of floors with dirty water and much telling off of Allen, the little brunette started grabbing onto Lavi's shirt, giving the red head an earnest look that Lavi interpreted to mean 'toilet'.
So that issue was resolved after a couple of days. The food issue, however, was not.
Lavi found that, on some days, he didn't get enough money for him and Allen to eat as often as they would like to. Lavi was used to eating less though, so it wasn't hard for him to cut back on how much money he spent.
Allen, however, seemed to be used to regular feeding. So, when Lavi started feeding him less, Allen would constantly make whining noises, clenching his fists and hitting Lavi gently, his expression sulky. Lavi ended up snapping a lot at the poor brunette, making him cry often. It made Lavi feel bad, so he often cuddled Allen afterwards, showing he was sorry for getting angry.
But, in all other aspects, Lavi greatly enjoyed Allen's company. Taking care of the little toddler made it easier for Lavi to deal with his mother's death, which was still a raw and painful wound for him in his heart.
Allen could be completely and utterly adorable at times, either making Lavi smile brightly or burst out laughing. Because Lavi was older than Allen, and he had always been brought up to acknowledge his mother before eating, Lavi tried to teach Allen to say 'Lavi chī fàn' before they ate. For the first few times, Allen just blinked and looked at Lavi blankly, going back to his food without saying a word.
Then, on the fifth day, Allen said something along the lines of 'Labi chip pan' before they ate, looking confused as Lavi burst out laughing and laughed so hard he was crying. Allen actually ended up crying whilst Lavi laughed, thinking he had made a mistake. When Lavi realised, he pulled Allen into a tight hug and stroked his hair gently, giving the boy an apologetic smile.
At the end of that first week with Allen, Lavi took him to see his mother's grave.
Even though the grave wasn't marked, Lavi could remember where it was perfectly; he had been gifted with an excellent memory, and he virtually never forgot anything. He easily found the simple grave, the dirt still freshly dug from the burial a week prior.
"Māmā," Lavi said quietly, pointing down at the grave before him with a pained expression. Allen seemed to recognise the meaning behind what Lavi said, placing a hand on the dirt with a quiet mumble that sounded vaguely like 'mummy'. Lavi picked the boy up, holding him close as he looked at the grave with sadness in his eye.
After a while, when Allen started making frustrated noises and tugging on Lavi's hair lightly, Lavi gave his mother's grave a gentle pat before leaving the graveyard, a lump forming in his throat.
By the time they reached the house, Lavi was barely stopping himself from bursting into tears so, putting Allen down onto the hallway floor, Lavi went into the bedroom, curled up into a little ball, and cried.
While he wept, he didn't notice the quiet footfalls of Allen walking into the room. So Lavi was surprised when Allen pulled on his hair out of nowhere, making him jerk his head up sharply. Allen gave him a serious look as he babbled something quietly, poking Lavi on the cheek before sitting down on the floor and suddenly hiccuping.
Allen gave a giggle, raising a hand to his mouth. He then hiccupped again, and he continued to giggle and hiccup until he was lying on his back, bouncing as he hiccupped and finding it hilariously funny.
Sniffing, and finding himself laughing and smiling through his tears, Lavi watched Allen with amusement until the toddler stopped hiccupping. Poor Allen looked awfully disappointed, and tears welled up in his silver eyes when he could no longer hiccup. Lavi gently leant forwards and picked Allen up, holding him close to his chest and burying his face in Allen's short brown hair.
Allen gave a quiet mumble of something before eventually falling asleep in Lavi's arms, snoring softly as he slumped against the red head's chest, hands clutching at Lavi's shirt. Lavi looked down at Allen with a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes gently and tucking it behind his ear.
Lavi missed his mother dreadfully, and would do anything to bring his mother back. But, though he did miss her, Lavi found himself feeling glad that he had found Allen that day. The little brunette was like a ray of sunshine in Lavi's monochrome world, and the red head smiled as he fell asleep with Allen in his arms, knowing that he had perhaps found his place in the world after all.
If Lavi could no longer live for his mother, he would live for Allen.
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[TRANSLATIONS]
- Hui lai le = I'm home (mandarin Chinese)
- Zăoān, māmā = Morning, mama (mandarin Chinese)
- Māmā chī fàn = Before you eat in China, you say something respectful to the elders eating with you, starting with the eldest. So this is just a quick thank you of sorts to one's mother :3
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Hope you enjoyed this, because I certainly enjoyed writing it XD I had way too much fun writing baby!Allen, that's for sure ~
Chapter 2 will be out at some point soon, so look forward to it ~ ;D
xrowa-chanx