April 4th, Saturday

To Allen's bewilderment, the apartment was empty. There was a winter jacket he didn't recognize hanging on the rack right past the entrance, but that was about it. At least for the first glance. Well, the guy could be anywhere though, no one said he had to be home all the time.

"Hello?" he called once more just to be sure as he entered the living room. Still, no response.

It was very spacious. Too big for him alone, to be honest. That was one of the reasons why he decided he wanted a flatmate in the first place. The simplest one of them, too. Maybe only besides the obvious money-saving merit.

It was all his mother's fault, honestly. She used to pay for the place before he could afford it himself, because she just loved to spoil him. Allen could surely say that if he had any freedom of choosing it himself, it definitely wouldn't be as high-standard as his mother seen fit for him. His younger brother, Benjamin, didn't have it that good and Allen felt awful for it. It was just that― his parents thought he was a genius and were giving him painfully obvious special treatment. It wasn't like he could blame them for that, but truthfully he was just― an adult. All this time, since the early years, he mentally was a fucking adult. And, intellectually, a pretty average one, too. Maybe only except for the amount of languages he knew. He's been all over the world after all, whether it be with Cross as a child or later, with the Black Order.

Still though, even as his studies went pretty normally, no big achievements or anything, his parents' hopes only kept going up. It was frustrating. He wanted, so much, to apologize to his brother more times than he could count, but just couldn't. It wasn't like it was all possible to explain. He much more preferred to be hated, acting as someone that made Benjamin try his best. He was a very ambitious young man now, on his way to University of Cambridge.

Allen cared for his family, he really did. They were good, loving people but― well, to put it bluntly, he never thought he really belonged with them, as much as it hurt him. Having grown up on the streets way back when, he always craved parental love, but now… It was just not very easy to hear them call him their son. He felt like an intruder, sometimes, and found himself always, always acting and pretending.

He sighed and went to his room to stash his things away. He knew it would sit for a week if he didn't unpack it now, so he did just that. Then, he made himself some tea, just sitting at the table in the kitchen, waiting.

He was starting to get pretty anxious. What if the person wasn't going to show up today? Worse yet, what if he does but Allen hates him? The worst case scenario would probably be if it was someone intrusive and analytical, like Lavi. Last thing he needed was to get his mind dissected. There was really too much going on in there.

As he was sitting there, fidgety, he noticed that the door to the previously empty room wasn't closed. And he knew he should respect people's privacy. Especially since he just admitted to himself he hated intrusive people as flatmates. But― well, there was no one around. And it was his apartment in the first place, yeah? Surely he could peek just a bit. He was just so curious.

He got up slowly, feeling like he was doing something really nasty. Maybe he really shouldn't after all. Except that his legs were already leading him. Just one glance wasn't that bad, was it?

Just a few steps across the living room and he was there, pushing the door wide open, holding his breath.

Well―

It didn't look used much, really. That is, a suitcase was resting atop the wardrobe and there was a laptop tossed on the bed and all. But the room was just so impossibly empty besides that. It made him sad, somehow. Though he guessed it was rather normal, it's only been a few days since the guy moved in. He smiled to himself at his own silliness. What was he expecting? He almost laughed. He had a tendency to be paranoid, sometimes. At least since he was 'Alex', that is.

His humour came to an abrupt stop as he noticed one previously missed detail that made him freeze. There was a― a sword. Resting innocently next to the bed, sheathed. It was― well, it was weird in itself, but, what was much worse, he had a feeling he saw a very similar one somewhere before. Somewhere…

"What do you think you're doing, dipshit," a dangerous-sounding voice came from behind him and his muscles tightened up all at once at the sound of it, paralyzing recognition flaring in his mind instantly.

Before he knew what was happening, his new flatmate moved to pin him against the wall, but he stepped aside in time, watching the person before him with wide eyes and quickened breath. No. No. It was―

Impossible. He had shorter hair, reaching just a bit past his shoulders and he was clearly not as muscular, but―

That face, that voice―

"Why the fuck would you go into my room?"

A hand tried to reach the front of his clothes, but he avoided the threat again.

He felt he should not speak up. Even if he wanted to explain himself. To say that the door was open, that he was only curious, that he was sorry, that he didn't even really go inside. But no, if he spoke up―

He was so glad he looked different. His natural hair was a reddish kind of brown after all and, well, he was normal, outwardly. Nothing marred his face. If he could refrain from speaking up, it would be probably hard to tell. That he was Allen. That they knew each other.

Blue eyes of the Asian man watched him curiously. He was clearly not used to people being able to keep up with him in a fight.

Allen resisted the stupid urge to cover his face.

"What, can't you speak?" The man barked at him, clearly losing temper fast. Fuck, the familiarity was overwhelming. Too stunned at this point, Allen couldn't react in time anymore. His pulse was quickening impossibly, almost making him dizzy.

"Shit," he groaned as he hit the wall, a hand firmly twisted in his shirt. He only realised that he said it out loud as thin eyebrows furrowed, the man suddenly watching him with undeniable curiosity.

Now in full-blown panic, he forcefully pushed the man away.

The Asian staggered just a bit backwards, clearly not having expected him to have much strength. Distracted in this way, he had no chance of catching up as Allen bolted away, loudly locking himself up in the bathroom.

His body was shaking, he noticed in embarrassment as he leaned on the door. He wasn't― imagining things, was he? No, he knew he wasn't. That person certainly was―

He was even more sure than that time with Lenalee, actually.

He took a few deep breaths, unsteady steps carrying him to the sink. He didn't like looking at himself in the mirror, so he spared his own features barely a glance. They were a pretty pitiful sight right now. He splashed some cold water onto his face before his body slumped forward, tightly closed fists supporting his bodyweight at the edges of the sink.

He didn't plan to hide here forever, no. He just needed a few seconds for reality to fully register. He briefly considered trying to play dumb, but― fuck, he wasn't about to watch every word he said at home and he knew perfectly well that his new flatmate was already suspicious of him.

He remained as he was for just a bit more, steeling himself. And, eventually, he reached for a towel, unhurriedly drying his face. The darkness of having his closed eyes against the material felt slightly comforting, but he put the towel back in place. As he unlocked the door, he knew what he should do.

He found his new flatmate unpacking groceries the guy surely was out doing up until he shocked the shit out of Allen. Honestly, he appeared so suddenly. He didn't hear his steps at all. But, well, he knew that trick, too.

The Asian man only noticed him when he took a sip of his already lukewarm tea, putting the cup down with a cling. As he turned his face to Allen, finding him quietly sitting at the table right behind him, the man seemed more than surprised.

"I thought you ran away pissing your pants," he scoffed, having composed himself quickly.

Damn that asshole. Fuck, he hasn't missed him at all. Would be nice if it was true, at least.

"Well, no. Not really." Allen steadied his gaze, a flicker of something like recognition flashing in the other man's eyes. "I see you're still as charming as ever."

"What the fu―"

"Shut up, Kanda," Allen snapped before he could stop himself, a pack of noodles the man was holding instantly falling to the floor. The moment stretched impossibly, atmosphere heavy enough that the air seemed solid. Then the shocked blue eyes suddenly filled with anger.

"I'm moving out," he spat irritably, directing steps to his room right as he said that.

Allen sighed. Of course he would act like that.

"You're making no sense. You've already paid for this month," he called after him tiredly.

"Like I care. It's not worth being stuck with you, smartass," Kanda growled from the distance.

"No respect for the money, I see," Allen murmured under his breath, finishing the tea in one go. Well, it wasn't like he cared that much, it was more than enough that he just got to meet him. The man could get out in that very second, actually. It was probably just for the best.

The sounds of angry shuffling around rang in his ears with some sense of finality. He hated how much it bothered him when a distinct noise of a suitcase being thrown onto the bed followed.

He suddenly remembered how miserable he was before he found Fen. This feeling of insanity creeping on him as he had no guarantee his past self really existed. But he haven't felt that for a long time now. The contact with his old friend helped him so much. So he didn't need Kanda, of all people. But what if Kanda needed him?

Also, Lenalee would probably kill him if she got to know he met another one of their old companions and let him go just like that.

"You should stay," he spoke up.

Kanda actually stuck his head out of the room just to look at him furiously.

"We both don't want that," he said bluntly.

"No. But Lenalee does. Probably."

At that, the man's eyes cleared up a little. Allen knew he had a soft spot for her. She was one of the very few that managed to really become friends with him. How did she do it, honestly.

"You've met her." It wasn't even a question.

"Yeah." He nodded, purposefully not adding any more information.

"And?" Kanda was back to the kitchen to glare at him steadily, arms crossed on his chest.

"She's okay." Allen shrugged, trying hard to sound nonchalant. "Kids and husband and all."

Kanda visibly calmed down at that.

How nice. He really cared about her. It made Allen feel bitter, somehow. Though it was probably unfair of him. He was as eager to know how the ferocious ex exorcist was doing as the man cared about Allen himself. Despite that, he couldn't help noticing that Kanda's current reality was very likely as fucked-up as his once was. He could tell by how distressed the man seemed. It was truly nice that at least Lenalee was able to deal with this sick joke that their existence in those modern times was.

His eyes rested at his own pitch-black left hand with a grimace and he regretted it sorely as Kanda followed his gaze.

"Is it still―," the man begun, but Allen cut him off.

"No," he said sharply, immediately hiding it under the table.

Under Kanda's sceptic stare, he became repulsed with the whole situation.

"You know what, I changed my mind. Get out," Allen spat with a straight face, getting up to go to his room. Fuck Kanda. He didn't have to put up with this.

"Oh fuck no," the man bit right back at Allen, following him. "You're not going to boss me around. And fucking give me a contact to her, you brat."

"Fuck you. And as far as I know, I'm older than you now, brat." Kanda's expression of rage was priceless as he shut the door right in his face.