A.N.- Hello everyone! Ōkami here! If you are reading this, thank you so much from the very bottom of my heart. I'm a new writer, this is not my first story but it is the first I publish, I know I probably have tons of mistakes and I would honestly appreciate any reviews and advice you could give me. I honestly hope my story can be up to your standards and that you have as good a time reading it as I had writing it. I tried my best to keep it simple since I still can't decide if I will make this a multi-chapter story or if I will leave it as a one-shot, therefore I will leave that decision to you dear readers, after all it's your opinions that keep us writers moving forward. Anyway I won't take any more space with my babbling, again thank you for your time and attention.

Happy readings!

Disclaimer.- I don't own D. Gray Man, If I did, nothing would make sense with all my babbling, I do however own the plot of this work.

Side Note.- There is not much violence and graphic language that I know of, but if there is and it bothers anyone please, let me know and I'll do what I can to make things better. Also there is some implied stuff here and there, this is the base of a yaoi story, with lots of angst and depressing topics and things such as self-harm and disorders will be present so if you find any of this displeasing please continue with caution or avoid reading the rest, I honestly don't want to offend anyone I just want to share my work like any other author. So please, please proceed with caution.

Another Side Note.- the quotation marks ("") mean thoughts, the dash marks (-) are actual dialog. Hopefully that made sense…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A Refugee from Themselves~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-oi, calm down kid, we like to eat too you know?

"I'm well aware of that and I'm deeply sorry, but I can't help it if I'm hungry."

-That's right kid, besides, where does all that food go to? Don't you think you'll get fat if you keep eating like that?

"I wonder the same thing too."

-With how much you eat one would figure you'd be growing a lot more.

"Well excuse me for being short; I didn't know it was such a crime."

-Are you really sure you're fifteen and not ten?

"Honestly I'm not; after all, it's not easy to keep track of time while living on the streets you know?"

-Aw come on everyone, leave the poor kid alone, besides with how pretty he looks who cares about his age, he should stay like this, young and beautiful forever.

-Haha, you're right, what a shame he's not a girl, such a cute face is wasted on a guy...

"Well I don't know how to feel about that, but I sure as hell don't enjoy being called cute. I'm a teenager and a male; I'm not supposed to be cute..."

That was the daily chatter heard thru the Black Order's canteen after the arrival of one Allen Walker, to onlookers that would pass as friendly talk, however, what so some might be a playful thing to others it might feel like hurtful reproaches, such is the case of the white-haired exorcist. Every time someone made another "joke", something on the back of Allen's mind seemed to come up with a reply to the seemingly inoffensive remarks of his peers. It hurt to be called short, a glutton, and it was downright offensive to be called the same words one would call a girl, he had enough bad memories from his time with Cross to need any more of that. No one was ever aware of his eating disorders, his height complex, and his hatred for his delicate and even feminine appearance. Self-esteem was not on his vocabulary all thanks to those years of "odd jobs" to survive on the streets and later on help pay for an uninterested Cross's bad habits before trickery his evolved. He hated himself too, yet it was not as if he could help it, he never asked to be born that way, or to have grown on the streets never knowing when the next meal would come or if it would come at all. It always pained him to be made fun of however he never showed it to anyone, thanks to his time with his father Mana, his training as a clown, and his methods of survival, even the time at the side of his master Marian Cross, Allen had learned to hide it all in. But that still didn't mean it didn't hurt. It hurt to the core of his soul in a way no one could ever phantom, not his dear best friend: the female exorcist Lenalee Lee, nor his big brother figure: Lavi (the Bookman apprentice), not even his loyal companion (the master's golden golem) Timcanpy. But what hurt the most was his very own foolishness. He knew it was wrong, but that would never stop him from overexerting his body to the keep his body in shape, from making his way to thru cold halls searching for desolate washrooms where the punishment to his body continued. It had taken everything he had had to compose himself afterward, and yet here he was once more, turning his stomach at the memory of hurtful remarks. He had long grown accustomed to the now daily routine, "train till you drop and only keep in the absolutely necessary to survive," he had tried to reduce his eating habits too but was soon caught by an unsuspecting, happy-go-lucky cook. Every night, once everyone else had gone off, it hurt to feel all alone, it hurt to the point of insanity to keep his frail mask on display, to hold on the cheerful charade and not break down, however, his pride would not concede. In those nights when the pain was too much to bear he would quietly and privately give voice to his complaints, while slowly mutilating himself, piece by piece he filled the white canvas of his skin with new marks, the same marks that could ease the pain of his heart if only for a moment. Slowly he would watch as the ruby drops would fall from the newly opened gateways to the ground and hope for the day when they would fall for the last time. At those times he would wholeheartedly wonder why, why did life hate him so much, only to have the image of his father he kept in his mind repeat that last promise the two had made.

-I'm tired and lonely- he would often mutter in a quiet murmur.

"Don't stop, keep walking."

-But to where do I walk? I don't want to go on.

"Don't stop, keep walking."

-I wish I could give up, I wish I could go with you, why can't I go with you?

"Don't stop, keep walking."

At those lonely times when tears would run down his cheeks like little diamonds, and he had to hold himself up in an attempt to stop his heart from breaking any further it was when he most resented his fate and his cursed existence which brought nothing but disgrace to those around him. At those times he would curl himself in a tiny spot and left his sorrow flow free always aware and frightened of the nightmares that were sure to come. It was during one of those moments he rediscovered the pleasantness of another's warmth at the side of an unexpected companion. At first, it was nothing more than a tiny spark to distract themselves from the horrors of battle, nothing more than seemingly harsh words always hanging in the air silently filled with pleas and comforts well hidden behind every thorn. To knowing onlookers, it always seemed odd, an unusual type of friendship of some sort between a broken, cursed, little clown and an equally damaged stone-faced samurai. It didn't take long before words called for something more, and little by little the spark became a flame, and the flame gave way to a full-scale fire, a fire that consumed each other's minds, occupying every waking moment of both until one-day rationality was no more. To the public eye, their contact and conversation was nothing more than childish plays yet to each other it was so much more, it was concern and affection, it was support and comprehension, and so many questions only meant for the two. Their love was a private thing only free behind closed doors, and deserted halls away from judgmental murmurs and prying eyes. Behind closed doors, they were neither samurai nor clown, not exorcists, not tools of war, they were just too lovers and their love, a love as pure as snow and yet as passionate and ardent as the fire that burnt in their veins whenever eyes met, and lips clashed. A midst the horrors of battle there was a place where they found happiness, a home at long last. Slowly they became each other's refugee, blissful happiness that came whenever bodies connected so deeply that it became almost impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. They became each other's strengths and weaknesses, and eventually, they healed each other's wounds and filled each other's emptiness, completing one another like two perfect pieces of the same puzzle. Now the only thing that was amiss for their absolute happiness was the fruit of their love, a dream that sadly both understood could not be, neither nature nor their god could possibly see it fit, or so they thought as they continued their loving endlessly. Ah! But little did they know, destiny is one mischievous, little being, one that can hear heart's deepest desires, and fulfill the most precious of dreams, except, everything comes with a price, and like it or not they live discovering just that.