I was extremely surprised and touched by the number of people who reviewed (And all good things! ^^) Because of that, I'm going to try to update every saturday (with the same chapter length). Thank you very much to StinghyNachos, JJ45, Lena-luvs-cats, Friendly friend, Kat, PipeDReam, 13thReflection, liketolaugh, Ern Estine 13624, sparklehannah, MesuNekofor reviewing, and others for favoriting/ following! Are there really so few Red stories…? Originally this was going to be a one shot but… I would love the opinions of other DGM fans in this story, so I will probably be asking quite a few questions about potential changes (more in later chapters). For now, do you think Red's name should change to Allen? Or stay Red? Sorry for ranting, enjoy!

Chapter 2

How stupid of him, to think someone might actually care. Red thought of the man sliding pieces of money into his small hands, "stay safe!" Then to the girl, perhaps his age, waving, smiling, "this is Red!" How incredibly stupid. Everything hurt. He knew to expect what had come from the ringmaster, but after he had placed Cosmos in charge of his punishment, he knew he was going to die. But why was dying so painful? Why did everything always hurt? Cosmos had tied his hands behind his back and shoved him outside. He stumbled, sprawling across the ground.

"Tsk, tsk, you've been bad Red. Your such an ugly screw-up, you deserve to die." That only makes sense I think…

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you suffer first. No one's going to miss you. No one will ever miss trash like you." He's right…

"Time to die." He's right… But, I don't really want to. Why was I even alive? To suffer and die, is that my only purpose? Despite everything however, he refused to scream. No matter how much Cosmos hit him, no matter no hard; whether he used the whip, or glass, one of the props or just his foot. He would not give in to hatred, to Cosmos: he would die, rebelling in his own way. That was his only solace. But even after losing consciousness, the pain was ever present.

He awoke to the sound of whimpering and a warm feeling on his bruised face. He forced his eye open, the one that was not swollen shut, in an attempt to discern what had transpired during his time unconscious, not dead but unconscious. Aren't I dead? Why do I have to keep living if I'm always going to be alone- He started slightly as his thoughts were interrupted by an eager bark, before the dog resumed licking his face.

"Ah- S-stop that!" He scrambled upwards, felt a wave of dizziness and had to lie back down. He rolled over, gazing at the darkening sky. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the ruffled movement of the collar of the dog who sat beside him. With a reluctant sigh, the boy reached out to run his disfigured red arm through the dog's fur. So soft. The dog reached down and licked his hand. Red pulled it back suddenly in surprise and turned to look at the expressionless dog. Why would he…? But, he's so warm I… Despite all his reasoning, he resumed petting the dog. For a few moments he lay there, beside the mutt, content with the fact that the dog had not abandoned him.

"Allen!" Then he was gone, the fur, the warmth, the soul other than his own vanished in an instant. Red thought he was going to shatter. Tears pricked his eyes but he forced them away. I deserve this, cuz' I'm a monster! I'm always gonna be alone, why was am I so stupid, thinking sumthin' else would happen?! He lay there until the sun had all but vanished, till the cheer of the crowd from the main tent had completely died, and until his body was nearly numb from the cold. "If you get frostbite you could lose your hand!" Please let that be true… With such thoughts in mind he slowly rose, stumbled, then limped back into the prop tent. After determining that the area was, in fact, Cosmos free, he proceeded to finish his chores. He had much more to do since he had missed yesterday, and a shorter amount of time to make up for it. Some things could only be accomplished during the day, such as washing the costumes. But he managed to finish everything else before dawn. Exhausted, he wandered into the kitchen, collapsed in the corner, his corner, and quite nearly passed out again.

"Hey!" a jarring kick to the side, coupled with the sharp pain resulting from it greeted him an hour later.

"Get your lazy ass up! Here." The cook yanked him up by his hair and shoved him towards the cart. Red was sure that had his stomach contained contents, they would have been emptied. But the dizziness passed and he stumbled forward, delivering the food in the order given by the cook from the ringmaster. Food was delivered as a result of popularity. So unless someone got the first meal, there was always complaining.

"Did you not see my act last night?"

"Why aren't I first?"

"I was first last week…"

"What the hell is this?!" Cosmos was nearly last, so Red ducked and darted out of the tent, followed closely by a shoe thrown at his head. Red was quick and the shoe was nowhere close to hitting him, but he resented the thought and retreated back to the kitchen.

"That was the last one Red. I'd give you something but the ringmaster said nothing for the next three days, so I don't want you hanging around till then. I'll deliver the meals for now, so I don't want to see your face anywhere near here until then, got it?" Red nodded.

"Now scram!" The cook smacked a wooden spoon against the wall and Red darted out of the tent. He washed the costumes as well as he could, although he had to rewash a few of them. The constant movement re-opened a few of his wounds and he had scrambled to make sure his blood did not stain the costumes. This is stupid! After he finished re-washing a costume for the third time he ripped off part of his over-sized shirt and wrapped both his arms. After finishing the rest of his tasks reasonably well, Red stumbled outside, kneeling in the snow to press the numbing substance against the worst of his aching bruises. When he looked up, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. No.

A clown, the new popular one envied by Cosmos, was kneeling over the ground. No. A major contributor to his popularity was his partner, a dog. No. Who was unmoving as his owner piled dirt onto him.

"Is he dead?" Why do I care? He left me, just like everybody else. The clown turned, golden eyes widening in slight surprise, before resuming his task.

"Yes." The corpse was bruised, badly, much like Red. The ruffled collar torn.

"I bet Cosmos did it. His act sucks, but he's good at stuff like this." Red diligently hovered beside the man, watching him bury the mutt.

"He was an old dog, he wouldn't have lived much longer anyway." The man's words were hollow, eerily calm. When the job was done, he placed the ball, the golden one with the green stars, atop the grave to serve as a sort of marker. Red continued to speak, unwilling to let silence settle.

"Don't you want revenge or sumthin'?" he raised an eyebrow in question. By this point Red sat beside the shallow grave.

"If I did that, the troupe leader would throw me out without paying me." The man then proceeded to seat himself beside him and offer a brief prayer in some foreign tongue. While unhappy with the answer, for his own anger was brewing to the point where if he had the strength, he would no doubt kill Cosmos himself, he held his tongue. The dog wasn't his friend, so it really didn't matter.

"I'm an outsider anyway, I'll be moving on once Christmas is over."

"Oh."

"Huh, by the way, who are you?"

"Just an errand boy, I've brought you food."

"I'm no good with faces. Oh! You're covered in bruises to!" The man was quick to lick his finger in an attempt to help.

"Gross! Don't wipe your spit on me!"

"Did Cosmos beat you?"

"Shut up!"

"Do you have any friends?"

"Shut up!" Red crossed his arms, glaring at the ground.

"One of these days I'll get big and leave this place. I don't need any friends." The man squished his hands against his face while pouting. The result was… Interesting.

"What are you doing?" Red asks bluntly, slightly annoyed at the clown's behavior at a time like this.

"Wasn't it funny?"

"Sorry, I don't like clowns. I hate them."

"Wha- Well I hate children who don't laugh." Silence ensued, broken a few minutes later by Red, hunched over and confused.

"Aren't you sad…? Wasn't he your friend?"

"I'm so sad I could die" Red turned his head startled, only to find the man hanging from a rope, hastily placed over a nearby tree.

"Stop that!" Red objected. His friend had just died, why was he acting like that? This guy's crazy.

"I can't cry. My tears are all dried up." the clown informed him, having untangled himself from the rope, and taken on a more serious air.

"That's weird..." Red sighed, allowing his gaze to wander back to the ball.

"What was his name…?" Allen…

"I pet him yesterday and he licked my hand, it felt warm…" he thought to the game of catch, going on for hours and hours until they wound up caught in the storm. To the pairs' performance he had witnessed earlier the day before. The crowd had loved them, the dog loved it's owner greatly. It was so bright, blinding and far away, something he could never have, only watch. Love. The dog was owned by someone full of light and love, he had a friend. What was that like? Why couldn't he be friends with the dog, with Allen? Tears rolled down his face, unnoticed by the boy himself who had drowned in his own sorrow fueled by loneliness. For the first time Red cried, he cried in a desperate attempt to feel better, to bring back the dog so they might be friends. To have someone, anyone. They didn't even have to love him, to be friends, even if the light was fake or nonexistent. He just did not want to be hated, he wanted the darkness, the pain to leave. He thought back to the innocent children smiling at their parents in the town, the two children with the man, bringing him back. How they cornered him. The boy who ran, screaming at the sight of his arm. Why? Why?! He could not stop shaking…

His body throbbed in protest to his movement when he awoke. The sun had begun its descent, yet the inside of the tent was well lit by lanterns and the occasional candle. What…? Beneath him, he felt something soft, he was encased with warmth. Red slowly rose, finding himself seated atop what appeared to be a large pillow of sorts and wrapped snugly in a worn jacket of high quality. The boy bristled when the clown entered with a smile.

"What is this…?" The boy asked a certain edge to his voice. The man did not ignore him per say, but Red's question did not receive an answer. The clown knelt before Red and stroked his chin, an over-exaggeration of pondering. He snapped his fingers then proceeded to lean close to Red.

"Ah! What are you doing?!" Red attempted to pull away, but he was still incredibly tired, weak from lack of food, overworking and his injuries. The clown easily, yet gently restrained him. Red squeezed his eyes shut only to discover what felt like a slight release of pressure on his head. He blinked his eyes open and patted the back of his head.

"Why did you do that?" Red held an edge to his voice, slightly offended that the man just invaded his space to free the hair tied out of his face.

"Now you cannot see as many bruises!" The man's tone was upbeat, but the actually words were a tad too grim to make the man come off as happy. Red continued his suspicious glare, not bothering to fix his hair because the clown had a point.

"Why do you care?" The edge had faded from Red's point, exposing traces of raw emotion.

"This is what I do for Allen when he's sick! Let's go!" The man grabbed his right hand, pulled him up, and guided him out the entrance. On the ground was a stack of flyers, which he handed to Red before scooping up a bag of props to carry himself and marching into town.

"I'm sorry sir!"

"Johnny? What is it? Did something happen with the kid?!"

"He's, he's, h-he's-"

"C'mon Johnny spit it out!"

"He's dead sir." Silence greeted the line as Johnny finally managed to deliver the news to his superior.

"I went to talk to the ringmaster and he was… He was still alive then but they were…." He swallowed, unsure of whether or not he could describe what he had seen.

"Are you sure?" After the brief pause, Reever's words startled him.

"Y-yes, I mean…"

"Did you confirm it?"

"Well no but…"

"Then we will operate under the assumption that he is still alive." Johnny swallowed nervously. Reever had not seen the bruises, the blood. If the child was alive, he probably wished he wasn't.

"And what of the akuma? The finder gave me the report, it sounds more like-"

"Innocence. When I confronted the ringmaster he spoke of a god crystal… Reever it has to be Innocence!" Another pause, as both processed the realization.

"What should we do?" Silence.

"Reever?" Suddenly static and Tapp's voice cut across the line.

"He's talking with the chief, he seems pretty worked up, what the heck did ya do Johnny?"

"I-"

"Gimme that! Listen up Johnny! The chief is sending in some more experienced exorcists to collect the Innocence. They won't be able to get there before the performance tonight, so take Lenalee and Kanda again to keep an eye on things. Man I should have seen this sooner… They both sensed it, I just figured it was an akuma but… Listen, you have to get the kid out of there as soon as possible understood?"

"Yes sir!"

Ah, too bright… The world around Red was full of light: happy families nibbled on cooked meat and foreign foods, the aroma catching on the faint breeze: they were protected from such things by their thick coats. Red did not mind the cold, but now he was protected to, the clown's over-sized coat was still wrapped around him, worn but warm. More importantly, the coat obscured his hideous arm from view, making the crowd an annoyance rather than a mass to be feared. Everyone smiled, allowing their eyes to stray from money and gifts and onto the clown. They flocked to the man, who held a smile beneath the one plastered on. That warmth did not extend to Red, who was over-looked or murmured of disdainfully as he attempted to rid himself of the flyers.

Everyone loved the clown. And the clown was happy to entertain. A boy nearby had begun wailing over something trivial when the clown appeared with a smile. He made a ridiculous face, one quite familiar to Red, before producing a balloon from his sleeve. The boy abandoned his whining and nearly screamed in delight over the sight of the balloon animal gifted to him. Children encompassed the man, jumping, laughing, begging for similar gifts. Red bit the inside of his cheek to prevent tears or yelling of his own, both would be anger induced. The balloon animals took the shape of a dog.

The pair continued drifting about the streets. At some point, the clown attempted involving him in his act briefly before. Of course since he had been pointed out on the spot, he appeared to already be involved in the act. But giving his age and competitive flare, he caved and wound up performing a few simple tricks. In the moment after, time seemed to slow, allowing him to take in the clown's radiating smile, the crowds cheers of pure bliss. The light was bright, but no longer in an unwelcoming blinding way, he did not have to shield his eyes. Did I truly make them happy? Even if it was just a little… Red smiled softly, ducking his head slightly to cover the blush creeping onto his cheeks. The moment passed and a few minutes later the clown resumed his performance, while Red collected change in a top hat.

"Hey kid." Red turned to glare at the owner of the gruff voice. He had atrocious flaming hair, pulled into a ponytail yet somehow obscuring half of his face. His visible eye was sharp, taking everything in and never veering off of Red as he dropped a coin into the hat. Black attire accented with gold was worn beneath his coat, gave Red a sense of nostalgia. He shook it off, turning away from the man and the smoke collecting about him from his cigarette.

"Hey! What's your name?" Red continued holding up the top hat, silently accepting the change and avoiding the bizarre man. I don't have a name… Why doesn't he go away? Red thought, a scowl settling onto his features when he sensed the man following him.

"Is your name Allen?" Red halted immediately, shoulders stiffening. No. This guy must be crazy too. Allen is- Was-

"Not the dog." The boy started slightly, finally turning to face the man. His cigarette shifted in his mouth as he sighed.

"If you don't get it then nevermind. Listen up brat." Red straightened slightly, glaring daggers.

"Stay away from Mana , don't get close to him." Then he vanished, melting into the crowd, atrocious hair and all. There was something about that man… The boy grit his teeth and hastily rid himself of the fliers, practically forcing people to take them. Once this was complete, he approached the clown, smiling simply between acts.

"Mana?"

"Hm?"

"Is your name Mana?"

"Yes." A brief pause as the man fully processes the question.

"How did you know my name?"

"Some guy told me, 'don't get close to Mana-" Then Mana too was gone. This was not like before when Red was abandoned, forgotten. No this was something else entirely. Perhaps that was why this time, Red followed.

"Hey! Ah, Mana!"

"I need to find that person!" The crowds were frantically combed through by the clown before Red interjected.

"He's gone." His words were always overlooked, even more soon now that the recipient was a deranged man. Mana continued desperately searching the crowds until the sun had all but vanished.

"Who were you looking for?" Loneliness creeped into the clown's voice as he replied:

"That could be my little brother…" The small observer attempted to ponder, but was forced to abandon his thoughts and take off after the man as he resumed his search. At some point, the steps of the man grew shaky. He was desperate. And in that wave of desperation he lost what little sense he still possessed.

"Look out!" The man toppled over, having been knocked off his feet by the child. A cart rushed past in a wave, a streak of black and silver, travelling and a rapid pace given the condition of the roads.

"Be careful" The child sounded exasperated, like a parent scolding a child. And like a child, Mana nodded, not truly taking the words to heart. Red pushed away from the frozen ground before shoving the clown forwards. They ended up in a nearby park, desolate as a result of the hour. Mana removed his bald cap and scrubbed away the make-up from his face. Red's eyes took in the man in his entirety, the weathered face, the black hair, graying at the temples. Silver eyes briefly fixated on gold. Red's gaze was unnervingly intense, determined. Mana was quick to look away.

"You could've died you know" the determination was present in his voice as well.

"Ha! Death is rather dislikeable isn't it? Ah… What lovely weather." Lids encasing silver reached upwards.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The evening sun on days like this are the most beautiful." The sun had vanished, but remnants of its presence remained, dying the sky in colors not of red, but of a hue to match the eyes of its admirer.

"That doesn't matter, you should be more careful. I bet your brother would be really worried if something happened to you."

"I'm only seventeen you know." Another surprised look from the boy as a result of another random statement.

"Huh?" No matter how you saw it, Mana was middle-aged. He knew it to, and smile faintly, gazing upwards.

"I woke up one morning and realized I had become a middle-aged man. I have no idea how or why. The day before I had been seventeen, so when I saw my own face in the mirror I was really shocked!" Red took all of this in silently. In the short time they had interacted, it was not difficult to assume that something was off about him, but this…

"After a while I was able to accept how I looked, but it always felt strange." A pause. The boy offers no words, so the man continues.

"I have a little brother, but I cannot find him anywhere." Then he leans towards the boy, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"I will only say this to you…" He leans even closer to the boy until his lips are nearly touching his ear.

"I am being chased. If I get caught I will definitely be killed."

"By who?"

"Someone called the Millenium Earl. He is a person who can turn humans into akuma. Akuma are everywhere, so you have to be alert." He finishes the secretive statement with the childish act of pressing his fingers to his lips. Are some people really this weird?

"My brother must have been separated from me. Looking like this, even if my brother sees me, he won't be able to recognize me. That's why I have to go find him. To do that I have to be alone, to begin this life of wandering." Red clenches his right fist. He avoids the man's steady gaze as he finally breaks his silence.

"Your brother could have abandoned you." The statement was meant only as a subconscious thought, he surprised himself when he realized he had uttered them aloud.

"I-if it is true… What are you going to do?"

'Because of your ugly left arm you were sold to the circus.' The ringmaster's words echoed in his head. That was all he was ever told regarding his past. He was forced into the circus for no other, no real, reason. Afterwards he was always being abused. He was loathed because of his hideous left arm. The circus members treated him as like an object. All that left was disgusting memories. He now shies away from any sort of relationship in an attempt to lessen the pain. Because everyone hates me. Even my parents abandoned me. At one point there was hint of friendship. But that was murdered, died with the dog, with Allen. Happiness was something he only ever witnessed, or experienced for but a moment. All of the painful memories he held until now resurfaced in an instant,\ and it showed in his choice of words. Red knew what true sadness was. Mana quietly watched the sky.

"How beautiful" praised Mana softly in regard to their surroundings.

"I love beautiful worlds the best." The words were cheery, yet tears stained Mana's cheeks as the pair watched the death of the sun, leaving only darkness.