Author's Note:
This is Yullen, just FYI. So, don't like, don't read or at least don't complain, 'kay? I used to have the lyrics to the song from the ark (known by a variety of names, traditionally Tsunaide te ni Kisu wo) but the flow went weird so, no. Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated; listening to the music for the duration of the dream (other areas might mess up the mood a bit) is really cool, and my disclaimer is on my profile as well as more info on this story.
The shaking wouldn't stop. An overwhelming hopeless feeling swamped every ounce of his being. The shaking and that slight aching pain in his gut hurt in a way that no medicine could cure, and they were so much more frightening than even the Earl and his sword or an akuma and their guns. Allen hated feeling like he couldn't do anything.
It started small: barely perceptible shudders rippling through his body and a tiny ache in his stomach. Allen dismissed it as a result of the long mission and minimal rations. So, Allen went to the cafeteria. Talking to the three from his mission—Krory, Chaoji, and Miranda—as well as Lavi, Lenalee, and a handful of finders and scientists just seemed to increase the symptoms. Allen chanced a glance over at the next table and the sight of Kanda was like an iron fist clamping down on his stomach and twisting. He shivered as if the room was below freezing yet burning warmth coursed through his veins. And no one noticed. Johnny commented on his paleness and Reever asked if he was okay but nobody pressed when he dismissed it. Nobody really noticed the shaking; nobody noticed how the sight of Kanda seemed to affect Allen so much, so he pushed the worry to the back of his mind. The burning in his veins had dissipated and Kanda was gone, leaving a cold, empty feeling that made the pain and shivers all the worse. So Allen stood up, abandoning most of his food, and stumbled to his room.
A week passed. Each morning, Allen would find himself sitting up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, fighting back the Fourteenth. Every time the Fourteenth chanced an appearance, the ache and shivering would increase tenfold. Every time Allen saw Kanda, a surge of painful flame would shoot through his body and when he glanced away his shaking and ache would worsen. Allen got to the point where he ate next to nothing, blatantly avoided Kanda, and hid in his room or the piano room of the Ark, barely sleeping for fear of the nightmares that would come.
A soft voice was singing and there was the sound of a piano playing gently.
Somehow, Allen understood the Japanese words, hauntingly familiar, and the tune. Then it came to him; it was the tune from the ark, the horrid tune of the Fourteenth. It hurt, being used like that. It hurt, not knowing who you really were. It hurt, realizing that you were loved for something inside you, a monster that would consume your soul.
Darkness was all around, it was so very dark. Then, there was this soft glow around him... a fuzzy, warm sort of gray light. It radiated softly around but not quite from Allen. A glass wall surrounded him and the light was coming from just beyond. And slowly, Allen could distinguish shapes. The light was coming from a stained glass window, or rather, cracks in the window. The soft moonlight didn't penetrate far enough through the colored glass. Small shapes of color glowed on the floor, the moonlight from the broken pane reaching a bit further. There was only that window and a shadowy bed.
Tucked into the corner of the bed was a shadow... had it been there before? A figure, one leg folded beneath, the other hanging off the edge; arms rested on the knees, a dark, almost bluish figure. Eyes were thrown into darkness by long bangs and locks of hair falling lightly into the pale face. Allen wondered if this was Kanda's room... and how he knew that figure was Kanda, it certainly was too dark to definitively tell. Perhaps it was that heat coiled inside of him. That pain that, oddly enough, was preferred to the shaking or dull throb. The pain was something real; something that meant Allen was alive.
Something soft fluttered past him and he looked over- pale pink, velvety smooth. Allen didn't understand, until he looked up. Suspended above him was a delicate lotus, petals slowly shriveling and fluttering down, down, to rest on the bottom of this glass prison- to trickle into the bottom of the hourglass.
Then, there were piercing dark blue eyes... blue? Were they really blue? Those eyes had always seemed a deep black, sucking you in and dragging you under, yet in this light they were an obvious blue. They were a blue that couldn't truly be described, a blue that the world had never seen before. They were such a shade that they seemed infinite, more dangerous and mysterious than black.
Then, something went dim. Allen jerked forward; the glass wall was no longer there and he flew towards Kanda, for something wasn't right. He reached out, desperate to touch the only one who made him feel truly alive and his hand slipped through. He was disappearing, Kanda was disappearing, they were both slipping away. He tried to clutch to the samurai, wrap his arms around Kanda's chest and never let go and those strong arms were reaching to do the same. Yet, again they slipped through each other. Yet again, they could no longer touch. Those piercing eyes looked down; down into Allen's soul and Kanda stood up. Kanda stood up and walked away, with that room, that light beyond him.
Allen was left, in the cold, in the dark, watching Kanda's figure disappear, clutching the lotus's fallen petals as more and more fell with each step. The fallen petals turned to sand and slipped through his fingers. He clutched at the lotus, trying to hold it together, yet it continued falling, shedding petals as if his hands didn't exist. Perhaps they didn't. Perhaps he didn't. The last petal fluttered downwards. Kanda was gone, everything was black, and Allen didn't exist. He didn't exist but the darkness in his soul was left, Allen had lost.
Allen jerked awake, struggling against the Fourteenth, struggling against the part of himself that wanted to give up. He was numb all over and convulsing violently. He stumbled up from the piano, ignoring the smirk of the Fourteenth in the window in his haste, his fear. He clutched at the wall every step, sliding down, clawing at the stone in an attempt to stay up, leaving small smears of blood. He had to get to Kanda; he needed to know that they were both alive. And Allen got lucky.
Only Kanda got up at such an ungodly hour of the morning just to train. Only Kanda would come across Allen in the halls. Allen looked up, saw those blue eyes (they really were blue), and, with his last bit of strength, shoved himself forward, arms limp, legs crumpling, into that broad chest, into those muscled arms. And Kanda held him. Kanda clutched him close and said nothing, burying his face in the silvery white hair. Allen tilted his head up; Allen stared into those eyes, and felt the shaking cease and that almost painful burn pulse through his veins. His eyes slid almost shut and let the feeling of being alive, being real wash over him. But it wasn't enough. Then, slightly chapped lips found his and all was well. He was real, Kanda was real; they were both alive. They were alive.