Chapter 1

Unnatural Tenderness

Allen stared blankly at the white padded wall. A man stood nearby, watching him idly. He also had a blank expression as he studied Allen. It was blinding-the room and the boy. His skin was so pale that it was good enough to be considered as white as the wall and floors. His long hair that desperately needed a trimming was also white. The straitjacket that was beyond unnecessary at this point was most definitely white. Then the boy's baggy clothes were white, pure white. Not a single stain ruined the blinding color. The man in front of him had to take his shoes off and give the doctors and nurses and other workers all of his belongings that was deemed dangerous. Keys... lighter... cigarettes... Everything with a sharp or dull pointed edge.

"It's been several years, Allen." the man said quietly.

Soberly-expressed, Allen let his eyes drift from the wall to the long red-haired man. Said man raked his fingers through his hair, sighing. Instead of being expressionless, he decided to show nonchalance and boredom was undeniably in his eyes. Yet there, in those hazel resembling eyes, lay concern and slight eagerness. The redhead was tall and lean... familiar. Allen recognized him in some way, but he couldn't remember entirely.

"I suppose you wouldn't remember me. I haven't been in a about a year and that must've felt more along the lines of a decade than three hundred and thirty-five days." the redhead claimed, unusually quiet. "I'm Cross."

Realization shined brillantly in those silver-gray-blue eyes. The boy sat up and scanned Cross for a long time, as if awaiting a memory of some sorts to flash before his eyes. Cross carefully, leisurely, slowly walked up to the boy, slightly crouching down and ruffling his soft white hair. A small smile, hardly noticable, formed on Cross' face. "They say you're doing a lot better... So have I. The doctors say you have been happier and speak more often. You don't need a lot of medicine. You like going on walks. You no longer need constant supervision. I was told you even smiled a few days ago."

Allen hesitantly nodded. "Nightmares... I still have nightmares." Allen whispered, fear etched in his eyes.

Cross patted his head. "Not every night." he stated. "You can leave."

Something flickered in his eyes. It was a mix of emotions Cross couldn't describe, but he understood they were not all bad. It was apparent Allen comprehended what Cross meant.

"When I said I was doing better, I truly meant that. I'm not as bad or mean. I had a reason to make an effort to change." Cross whispered, unsure if the boy could actually hear him. "I'm qualified to be a parent, or a guardian at least..."

Allen's stony expression wavered.

"You're allowed to leave the asylum. You can come live with me and we can settle down. You can have a life outside they unbearable walls. Would you like that, Allen? Would you like to leave today?" Cross said, approaching the topic cautiously.

Allen's glossy eyes seemed to shake and his lips quivered. Hope and desperation evidentally filled those eyes as he leaned closer to Cross, maybe seeking what little warmth the man could provide in this cold, bitter hellhole. He would touch Cross' arm or hand, grab him and never let go until he was out of there, but the straitjacket kept his arms binded. The best he could do was lean forward. Cross was practically a stranger, but if this guy could get him out of here, then he'd go anywhere with him.

Allen smiled warmly, happiness reaching his eyes, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Yes..." his voice came out soft and no more than an utterance, but as the excitement coursed through his body and he began shaking, his voice got a few octaves higher. "Yes, please, yes. I'd like that."


Cross opened the passenger side door to his simple car, then looked at Allen, who was still dressed in the baggy white clothes. It was a good thing Cross thought ahead and prepared a few spare outfits that should fit the kid back at the house. The asylum did have shoes for him at least. Cross pointed at the seat inside the metal object that weighed a few tons. The boy 15 years of age stared at it warily efore complying and getting in, but not before inspecting it and playing around with everything inside. He felt the seat, admiring the soft fuzz and the leather-like dashboard. Cross closed the door and a look of panic immediately formed on Allen's face, soon turning to relief when Cross got in through the other side.

"Buckle up." Cross told him.

"Huh?"

Cross closed his door, then glanced at Allen. He forgot that the trauma he experienced about four years ago may have messed up his memory and knowledge. He might not remember a lot of things. With a heavy sigh, Cross leaned over, grasping the seatbelt and pulling it over Allen's body and clicking it into the buckle. Allen studied Cross as he put the keys in the ignition and the car rumbled, vibrating a little.

"Why am I buckled up?" Allen asked, fiddling with the seatbelt, tugging at it and moving it in all directions. Cross rolled his eyes. It was just a little weird.

"It's for your safety, just in case something happens." Cross said, lighting a cigarette and rolling down the window.

Allen looked at Cross. "You're not buckled up."

"I don't need to be."

"But you said it's for safety. You should buckle up." Allen mumbled, slowly leaning over as he tried to reach for the seatbelt, but Cross gently pushed him away. "What?"

"Alright, alright. I'll buckle up." Cross grumbled, and Allen began to lean over again. "By myself."

Allen leisurely retreated, watching Cross buckle himself up. Then the car started moving and Allen looked out the side window, eyes wide. HIs mouth hung open in surprise and amazement as trees and people passed them faster than usual. He swiveled around the best he could, staring at the asylum. A prideful smile adorned his face. The farther away the asylum became, the bigger his smile. When he could no longer see it or anything he acknowledged as related to the asylum, he turned around and stared out the window. They were going much faster. Allen leaned on the door, face pressed to the window.

"Don't lean on the door." Cross muttered.

Allen glanced at him, but did as told, too preoccupied to ask questions. The scenery changed every few minutes. Between trees, buildings, signs, people, and expanses, Allen was starstruck, but by the outside world. A world he hasn't seen in forever and barely remembers. Occasionally, Allen would make a comment or point and ask a question like:

"How does this glass move up and down?" And he touched the window.

"What's that moving thing called? It's running! Why is it running, Cross?" Allen asked, pointing at a leaping deer.

"What are we in? Why aren't we walking?"

"When can we eat, Cross? I'm hungry."

Cross eventually turned the radio and Allen's eye almost immediately flickered to the machine. Music sounded through the vehicle, though the music was very slow and calm. Allen didn't particularly like some of the songs, but he was marveling over the radio, pressing buttons and switching stations, ejecting and pushing in the CD's.

"Stop that!" Cross ordered, smacking Allen's hands away. "You're going to break it."

"S-sorry." Allen whispered, slumping.

Cross eyed him, his finger tapping on the steering wheel as he rounded a hill. Once they passed the hill they seemed to go down. It got darker. They drove through a split in a mountainous plot of land and went through a valley of trees and moss. Allen observed everything thoroughly, eyes endlessly darting around. Then, once they got to the end of the split valley, everything became more open and trees were scattered around the area. The same goes for houses. The town wasn't that big, but it wasn't too small either. Cross found it to be the perfect plae for Allen to... rehabilitate and adjust to the world again.

"This is the city that we're going to be living in." Cross said, turning off the music. "Understand?"

Allen nodded. "Where are we?"

"Mittenwald." Cross answered, turning left onto Judgement Street. They drove on a dirt road until they were a good half mile away from any other living or loud person. Cross pulled into a gravel driveway and unbuckled. "And this place is where you'll be living, eating, and sleeping. This is home."

Allen tried to unbuckle, but couldn't figure out how to. He knitted his eyebrows together, yanking on the belt and groaning every few seconds. Cross resisted the urge to call him stupid or smack Allen. Instead, he pushed Allen's hands away gently and he pressed the red PUSH button down and it unlatched. Allen moved the seatbelt out of his way and looked at Cross' stoic face.

"... Um... Cross..?" Allen uttered.

"Mmm?"

"How do I get out?"

Cross, again, resisted to say something or smack him upside the head. He forced himself to merely release a sigh as he pointed at the door handle. "Just pull that handle, then push the door open."

Allen grabbed the handle, then pulled it toward him. After which, he pushed it back toward the door and blinked. "It's not opening."

Cross closed his eyes. He had no choice but to do it for him just to demonstrate. So, he leaned over Allen and pulled the handle, but then used his other hand to push the door, using playful-shove-force to open the door. Allen blinked again, but steadily and slowly got out, wary of the new land. Cross took the keys out of the ignition, getting out of the car himself. Allen walked over to him, uncertain of what to do or where to go. He hasn't been in a real house in years. Let alone a house he called home.

"Go inside." Cross muttered.

Allen pursed his lips together. Cross could tell he was insecure and uncertain of himself and the situation. It did happen so fast and without warning. Cross was, though he'd never admit this aloud, worried about Allen's future here. His health. His mental state. His condition. He hasn't seen Allen in so long and then he was worse than he was now. Both personality wise and through his actions. Perhaps it was because the asylum had told him he wasn't allowed to see Allen anymore? Because he wasn't worthy to care for Allen if he were allowed to leave? Cross honestly had no idea how to take care of Allen. He didn't know how to raise a child and Allen... wasn't normal. Since the death of Mana, Allen has been overly sensitive or unsure. He's frightened easily and he almost killed himself on several occasions. Cross wanted to change the boy's perspective. He wanted Allen to change. Mana was a crazy man, but at least he never gave up on life or tried to hurt himself. The man was never depressed either. How was Cross to work with this? A child's mind is typically more fragile than most adults!

What have I gotten myself into?

"You're coming in with me... right?" Allen uttered, a childish, lost expression on his scarred face as he stared at his feet.

"It is my house, Allen. It's also your home from this day forth." Cross told him, shoving Allen to the front door. "There's no reason to be so damn scared about entering your own house."


Allen sat on the bed, body concealed by a teal blanket that he wrapped around himself. The lights were off and he was alone in his new room. He could hear Cross talking, but to thin air he supposed. Cross was loud. It was a good thing Allen wasn't tired because there'd be no way he'd get any sleep. Allen didn't think Cross knew just how loud he was, but Allen believed his loud ramblings were more welcoming than the dead silence all day and the soothing words from absolute strangers as they forced him to take pills of some sorts. He hated it most when they doctors had forced a syringe into his arm or leg, or sometimes, his rearend.

Allen stood up, keeping the soft, warm blanket wrapped around him. The carpet eased his nerves a little as well as warmed his feet. When he got to the hall that changed. There was no soft yarn under his feet as he silently stalked through the hall. He pivoted to the left then went straight. A light further down was his guide. It was rather dim, but it served its use well. Even Allen knew what a light bulb was and was it produces, and what light was for, generally. It was most other things he found peculiar and scary and new to him. Or some things seemed familiar, but he's forgotten their meaning. That made everything worse.

Still, when he reached the stairs, he sat on the top step, looking down at the multi-colored rug. A semi-cold air pricked his pale cheeks. A frown settled on his lips as Cross' voice came closer and he became more uneasy and nervous. He wiggled his toes, using those phlanges to mess with the long, out-stretched rub that went from the top of the stairs to the front down straight ahead.

"-es, he's here. I told you for the last two days that I would be picking up the kid today!" Cross said, obviously louder than he menat it to be. "No, Tiedoll! I ahve no clue how to raise a child... He's 15! And he's confused and depressed... I wouldn't say he crazy... More like mentally ill... Yeah, yeah. Mentally unstable..."

Allen pulled on the blanket, making it tight around his body, but the added warmth was what he looked for. At the asylum he was always so cold. There were times he had a bed and blanket and there were times he was stuck in a straitjacket in a padded wall because he was considered too "out of control" to stay in a bedroom. Allen wasn't the smartest person, but he knew what Cross was talking about all too well, and that irked him. He was hoping that would stop being the main topic about the white-haired freak once he left that Hell. Apparently he couldn't be anymore wrong.

"Last I knew, Allen didn't have much of an education... He's forgotten a whole bunch of shit... He doesn't know what a car is or a radio. Hell, he couldn't even buckle himself up or open the door..! His manners are... adequate for what he's been through and his age... I doubt he's hit puberty. The brat won't be the rebellious type, in case you can't tell by what I've told you... I wasn't constantly around him while he was living with his foster father!"

Allen's eyes widened. "Mana..." He buried his head into the blanket. Perhaps he should jsut go back into his room before he remembered too much or heard more of what he should not. It'd help if he could hear more than the one-sided conversation, but who was Cross talking to?

"Mana is different than me, Froi! You're different than me!" Cross bellowed, aggravation clear. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. I was told if I didn't come get him then Allen would be shipped off to an orphanage or a stranger. If not that, then he'd be staying at the asylum until he was... I don't think they would release him at the age of 18... He's unstabled, that's why! Christ, Tiedoll, he tried killing himself only-what?-a dozen times! They had to put him in a straitjacket and padded room just so he wouldn't hurt himself. The kid needed someone to be there for him... No!.. I'm probably the only thing he has left near family relations... I wouldn't say that... Mana was a close friend, but he wasn't family... I'm surprised they even-hang on."

Cross walked into the main hall and looked up the stairs. Inwardly he cursed when he saw Allen shaking uncontrollably on the top step. Either he was crying or forcing himself not to. "I'll have to call you back. I got a little situation." Cross grumbled, putting the phone back on the receiver. "I thought you were sleeping, Allen."

Allen jumped up, looking at Cross momentarily and with a panic-stricken face. "I-I-I-I didn't... you were loud... I'm... I'm... Why'd you have to bring up Mana! If you're going to speak about my stupid problem you could at least leave my dad out of it! Mana has nothing to do with any of this!" Allen screamed, standing up and stomping his foot.

Cross sighed, heading toward the stairs, but Allen backed away with each step he took closer to the white-haired boy. Cross got the hint and froze. "Look, I didn't mean for you to hear that."

"Duh!" Allen yelled, narrowing his eyes. "No one means for me to ear that stuff! That's why they always say it when they're near me. You think I don't know what I do? You think I don't know what's happening? Well, I know everything! I'm not stupid."

Cross couldn't find the right words to say. He wasn't good at soothing people. Not with words. Not with kids. He knew if he were to say anything at all it might make things were. It's plain as day his first impression of Allen being absolutely clueless was wrong. Still...

Allen turned away from Cross, then ran down the hall. Loudly. He was yelling nonsense about leaving him alone or something like that. Cross took a cigarette out, lit it, and inhaled deeply. While scratching the top of his head, he walked toward Allen's new room. He could hear said boy sniffling and pounding on the bed. Cross peeked in through the door, relieved to see Allen wasn't trying to hurt himself.

Cross closed the door and leaned against the wall, his cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Wisps of smoke circled around, leaking out of his mouth. "This is going to be harder than I thought."


Okay! So this is the first chapter. For now, I'm starting the story out in Rated T, but may become M later on depending on the viewers and how well things come along. Either way, as a warning, I have a feeling it'll later become rated M for reasons I cannot tell! Anyway, this is not a yaoi, CrossxAllen. But there may be a pairing later on. Again, that will be depending on the viewers. But that's for later. For now, please let me know what you think! And I'll try to get to my other stories soon, but a lot has been going on and I really didn't want to lose this idea, so... here it is!