A/N: I couldn't let it go ;A; The idea was just too cute to not write out. I kind of got it and based it off of Bruno Mars' bonus track (Somewhere in Brooklyn) on his CD (Doo-Wops and Hooligans). I'm sorry if the ending's weird or whatever. I gave Allen a little accent because he's technically British and I always thought it'd be kind of cool if he had an accent...
Anyways! I really do hope you'll like it ^^
Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray- Man :I
Lavi sat at the bench, wondering when the person sitting next to him would leave. They had arrived from the opposite ends of the underground area and sat at the only bench. The guy had earphones in, so Lavi didn't want to bother him. But then half an hour passed, and the redhead was bored. Having nothing to do, he tried starting a conversation. But...
That failed. Because the person sitting next to him was a one-word answer guy, and Lavi isn't a one-word answer guy. Then another fifteen minutes passed, and he threw care out the window.
"So, um, what're you listening to?" he asked, staring at the tracks in front of him.
"Music," was the reply.
"What's your favorite color?"
"Red."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Lavi didn't peg him as a guy who liked the color red.
"Do you like to read?"
"Not really." Well, there goes that idea of a conversation.
"How about drawing?"
"No." Lavi liked drawing...
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-two." ...So was Lavi.
"What do you do for fun?"
"Stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Lavi asked, hoping he'd be more specific.
"Stuff that takes up time." The redhead deflated a bit.
"Are you on your phone a lot?"
"Only when my friends bother me."
"Who are your friends?"
"Weirdos." Funny, Lavi had some weirdo bothersome friends, too.
And silence filled the area once more. Lavi was surprised there wasn't anyone but him and the guy sitting next to him. Then again, it was seven at night, and most people are usually at home or something by then...
Settling for something time occupying, the redhead decided to take a look at the guy next to him. So, straining his eyes to look as much to the right as he could, he glimpsed once, committed it to his memory and looked away. (Having photographic memory comes in handy).
The person beside him had black hair, kept in a loose ponytail at the base of his skull; bangs covered his forehead nicely. He had sterling silver eyes that were almost like blackholes, just waiting for Lavi to get sucked in. He had high cheekbones, which were somewhat pink from the cold weather (probably another reason why people are taking cabs instead of the subway right now). Lavi found himself suddenly finding this guy appealing.
Prepping himself to ask for the guy's name, a train rumbled by and stopped where they were. And before Lavi could say anything else, the person got up and boarded the train. Lavi stood too, but the train had already left.
He plopped back down, ignoring the numb pain in his backside (because it was one of those ceramic painted grated benches or whatever) and cursed-because that was also the next train to the bookstore.
His grandfather sat on the black leather recliner with his laptop in his lap, idly typing the manuscript for his next book. The old man was under the penname of Bookman, and ended having everyone around him calling him that, too.
He was reaching an epic point of the book when Sophia finally learns of Angelo's fiance, Christianna, when Lavi burst through the front door.
"Another long day?" Bookman asked, stretching to look over the top of the large screen.
His grandson groaned as he plopped face first into the couch.
"Couldn't find that person?" the elder asked, fully ready to tease Lavi about it.
A muffled no came from the white pillow that Lavi's face was buried in.
"How long has it been?" Bookman asked, genuinely curious.
Another groan.
"Two weeks?"
Lavi nodded against the pillow.
"Look," Bookman began as he finished the last sentence and closed his laptop, "I'm sure you will find this guy one day," Bookman said as he set the laptop on the coffee table, "but maybe you're not supposed to right now," he jumped off the recliner and walked to the couch, "so maybe one day, you'll meet again, by pure coincidence."
Lavi laid still.
"Now then, would you like to get a hot chocolate with me at the cafe across the street?"
"Lavi, brighten up, I'm sure you'll see him again!" his friend tried.
"It's not like he was a tourist. He probably lived around the city if he knows which train to get on," his other friend said.
Lenalee and Allen sat on either side on their friend, trying their best to give their condolences, but nothing seemed to work.
"But it's been a month!" Lavi cried, a bit exasperated.
"Well, maybe you guys will see each other at the subway again one day," Lenalee tried.
"Yeah, it's not like this guy is going to suddenly fly out of the country or whatever-ow!"
Lenalee elbowed him in the ribs to keep the British boy from continuing giving Lavi more negative scenarios.
"I mean, I'm sure he'll show up one day," Allen said with his slight accent.
"One day," Lavi mumbled to himself.
It's been about three months and a half, and Lavi kind of gave up on looking through window shops and tapping people's shoulders and asking if they knew that person last month.
Lavi was at the bookstore, reading a fairly large book. He sat in the innermost corner of the bookstore (the nonfiction side where no one ever goes), between a bookshelf and the wall, where the only light was a window above his head. He had lost track of what time it was long ago, but when it was getting harder to read from the sunlight getting dimmer and more orange, he reached to grab his bookmark beside him, but when in fingers padded the carpet, there was nothing but the artificial fibers. He reached into his pocket and pulled a folded piece of paper out. A bit reluctant to put use it as a marker, he put it deep in the socket and closed the book. Heading to the counter, he grabbed the stack of sticky notes and wrote his name on one; ripping it off, he stamped it on the book and hid it on one of the shelves in the counter.
As he was walking out the door, someone walked through the other door. He wanted to turn and look, but when he did, all he saw was a glimpse of black disappear behind one of the many tall bookshelves.
Shrugging, Lavi turned around, heading to the coffee shop across the street.
The next day, Lavi rushed to get to the bookstore, having a somewhat nervous feeling.
That book...
Oh yes, that book he was reading yesterday: The Count of Monte Cristo. He picked it off the shelf last week and didn't buy it because it was one of his grandfather's book stores, and now, he was going to regret it because he felt like something happened to that book.
And not the good something-happened.
The redhead stormed through the glass door of the store, ignoring the small jingle above the entrance.
"Miranda!" he called. (She worked at the book store).
Suddenly, a crash and a slight screech came from the Old English literature section. "Y-yes?" she weakly answered; the brunette was hidden behind the large bookshelf.
Lavi checked behind the counter, in the shelf for his book.
"Have you seen that Monte Cristo book in the counter shelf?" he asked, looking up in her direction.
"The one where you're at?"
"Yeah."
"I sold it to someone last night, "she answered, emerging from the aisle, "after you had left."
Lavi kept himself from exploding, and instead, banged his forehead against the counter, cursing; he sort of wished he didn't use that folded piece of paper as a bookmark.
"D-did you need that book..?" Miranda asked, unsure of what had just happened.
"Just a little bit," he replied, feeling somewhat grim. "Just a little bit."
"Oh...If it makes you feel better, at all, there's another copy on the shelf in the fiction section," she tried. Immediately going to and from the shelf in the section in question, she set the blue book on the counter.
He sighed. "Thanks." Weakly smiling, he picked himself up from his slouching position on the counter and headed to the subway to head home.
He headed down the concrete steps that lead to the underground tunnels. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets and had his orange scarf wrapped around his neck; his cheeks and the tips of his ears were a light pink from the cold weather. Staring at his brown boots, he continued to the blue bench.
Sitting down, he waited for the next train-because he probably just missed the one that stopped minutes ago and left.
Pulling out the book, he began reading; slowly he was absorbed into the book, ignoring the hustle and bustle on the surface above.
That is, before someone sat down next to him.
After about half an hour, the person beside him tried to start a conversation to dissipate the semi-awkward silence that had enveloped them.
"What are you reading?" a familiar voice asked.
Wait a minute...
"A book," he answered, trying to keep from smiling.
They turned to look at each other; emerald green met sterling silver, and Lavi couldn't help but get sucked into them as if they were black holes.
Suddenly, the subway train appeared, the brakes squealed and hissed.
The person got up and got onto the train before Lavi even knew what happened. When he blinked and turned to the train, it was already speeding to the next stop. And he cursed-that was the one to his house.
"Get ready to get beat, squirt!"
"Don't call me that!"
Allen and Lavi were busily playing video games (Mario Cart for the win...?) while Lenalee sat on the floor with her legs crossed and books and papers surrounding her.
Allen sat with his back against the couch and his legs stretched under the coffee table that supported the game console; Lavi laid on the same couch on the other side, upside-down and with his legs up against the wall.
"Lavi, shouldn't you start on your paper for-?"
"I'll do it later-ER!" Lavi yelled as Allen's cart bumped into his. "Dang it, beansprout! Quit cheating!"
"Don't call me," Allen began as he neared the finish line, "THAT! HA!"
The British boy cheered as Lavi's arms fell so his hands, with the controller in them, hit the carpet. The redhead groaned as the green headband around his neck drooped around his mouth. Turning over, Lavi let his head hand off the couch as he somewhat gracefully admitted defeat.
"I think you would like to put your legs down, Lavi," Allen said with his slight accent, "because Lenalee and I have another visitor coming to our flat," the British boy turned to look at the clock in the kitchen, "but he's running a bit late."
Suddenly, a sharp knock was at the door, and Lenalee was opening it in seconds.
"Speaking of the devil..."
"Kanda!" the girl exclaimed. "You're late," she frowned.
"I missed the second train." He shrugged his coat off and tossed it onto the small pile of other jackets that formed at the corner of the loveseat.
Kanda?
"Oh! Kanda, this is Lavi," Lenalee introduced as she pointed to the redhead who turned around to wave.
But, instead of waving, he kept his jaw from dropping when his eyes widened as he recognized the person who walked through the door minutes ago.
The person who walked through the door in question also seemed surprised. His silver eyes widened ever so slightly as Lavi pointed a shaky finger at him.
"It's you..."
"Did you like to draw a couple years ago, Lavi?"
The question was so sudden, the redhead jumped in the chair he was sitting in.
"Huh? Oh, um, sure," he replied.
Kanda slowly nodded, getting up and heading to the bookshelf across the room. He scanned his finger over the spines, searching for a specific book. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled The Count of Monte Cristo out of it's place in the shelf and opened it. The book split in half and a piece of folded paper stuck out from the crack. He pulled it out, closed the book, and replaced it.
He tossed it at Lavi's chest and stood there, waiting for the latter to look at it.
Lavi put the book he was reading down, and stared at it with questioning eyes.
Looks familiar...
The redhead unfolded it, a bit surprised at what he saw.
"You could have told me you liked me two years ago," the brunette said as he grabbed a clump of the t-shirt Lavi was wearing.
Lavi's eyes went wide. "But, I, what, you-"
Kanda brought their faces closer together. "Just shut up." He closed the distance between them.
Is this how a broship is supposed to be like? Because I kind of like it.