Okay… So I'm back with Chapter 2, a series of short chapters for all my stories… _"" Time time time… Sighs.
Previously
The figure on the bed moved, struggling in the coma. Kanda tensed, hoping that it wasn't going to be another attack. Unfortunately for him. It was. The figure jerked, pushing away the blankets and scratching at the bed sheets. Flustered, Kanda could only watch, using his hand as a gag to stifle the screams of agony. It was only an hour later when the screaming finally softened and stopped, his hand bleeding. Gathering the figure into his arms, he hushes, muttering in the ear. "It's alright…. You'll be just fine…"
The form in his arm made no attempt to move, as if dead, unhearing. Yet Kanda couldn't help but to cradle it close, like he had been doing many nights before. "Wake up.. Please…" Like always, it didn't respond. At least…at least it wasn't struggling or in pain now.. At least that was what Kanda thought. Falling asleep with it in his arms was what he did, with fatigue wearing him down so badly that when he dozed off, he was almost as dead as a stone.
Outside, Allen still pondered, about his… comrade. Though they hadn't exactly known each other for years nor were they the best of friends, in fact, he would be astonished if the stoic man would even consider him as a friend, after his comment about him. Yet, he would even let it slide, those hurtful comments and the bashing down of his esteem which didn't quite exist either. How does a boy live it up if he's the youngest around? Not to mention being called a Moyashi all the time. Sure, he admired Kanda, just a tad bit. And it was for his skills, his mastery of the katana. Nothing more. Definitely not the Japanese's social skills.
"Ano Ba-Kanda!" Chomping away on his dango sticks as he walked, the white-haired British made his way to the roof of the Headquarters, where he found the moonlight soothing. Where he could think on his own. As always.
The refreshing breeze of the cool night wind blew his bangs back softly, the gentle caress a welcomed touch from the heat of the building. Most of the inhabitants had already retired to their rooms, to bed, in preparation for the next morning and yet the young exorcist continued on his little picnic, munching away on the packet of dangos he had dear Jerry to prepare for him. Ahh.. Jerry. What a nice man. With all the food he cooked… Even at the thought of Jerry, Allen already thought of a variety of dishes to request for. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he shall have; a teriyaki chicken don, chawanmushi, that strange Indian dish, roti prata, cheesecake, banana muff-
Even before his thought could finish, as if it would ever end, that black hole that was his tummy was always craving more, a soft voice echoed into the place. A familiar one that Allen had gotten used to over the past week. Every night for a week now, Allen had situated himself at the roof, letting that gentle voice serenade him. Thrice he had fallen asleep right there, but today. Today he planned on finding the source.
Loneliness knows me by the name
All that breathes eye me with disdain
Her head tilted with confusion
Her smile fading by the moment
Breath hard, breath slow
When will you ever know?
What you've been waiting for came..
But still, loneliness knows you by the name.
[A/N: My WIP song…]
It was a female, by the notes that rose so beautifully into the soprano's range. He had to find it. Find her. Quickly jumping to his feet, he rushed down the stairs, dangos forgotten, eager to find out who was the owner of such a surreal voice. It didn't sound like Lenalee, nor could it be Miranda. Then…Who was it? There wasn't much ladies in the Black Order after all.
Then he saw it. It. Not her. It.
Ebony tresses almost reaching the floor, it was a wonder why its hair remained clean, with the dustiness of the corridors. Rosebud lips parted in song, the tune that flowed was so melodious that Allen almost fell prey to it, almost standing motionless in appreciation. But he recalled his objective, to identify this phantom. But he couldn't interrupt. He just couldn't. Its voice compelled him to keep his lips shut and simply listen, to simply melt into the song. That painful song that tore his emotions out so rapidly. Its voice did. It drew out his loneliness. His sadness. A flicker of a fleeting image, Mana, entered his mind. But Allen forced it out, lovingly, so as not to weep.
Then he gasped. For the creature turned, and casted its gaze upon him. A stunning gaze of emeralds, gazing straight into him. He melted. A lady… A lady ghost.. As he stared into her eyes, he didn't realize that she was floating closer, gliding silently. "Where…are we..?" She whispered, her voice gentle and angelic. Stuttering, Allen responded. "T-the Black Or-order's Headquarters. W-who are you?"
The lady glanced down at herself, at the regal -looking furisode she wore, silk and exquisite. "We don't know.." We? Allen saw but one. One ghost. One very beautiful and stunning ghost. "Boku wa Allen Walker."
"Allen Walker..?" She nodded, writing the name into memory.
"Your…Your singing is beautiful.."
"You…heard us?"
"Yes… For a week now.."
"You hear us… Honto ni..?" Her lips curved into an 'o' as if in mild shock.
Her pale delicate features lifted, as if in smile. A rather small yet happy smile. One that he could tell, with all his pretending, it was true. But… That was all for the night, as she slowly faded away.
"Matte!" He cried out, but his calls could not reach the petite lady. He had to try again. Tomorrow. Tomorrow night he will. As the last of the beautiful lady faded, he allows for a smile to taint his lips, waving. "I'll see you tomorrow night."
