Entry III: Cracked Cherry
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…which really explained a lot of the things that happened before the auction. The flirting, the oh-my-god-what-am-I-doing conversations – and Allen finally confessed that he had been having problems with his Innocence all along and didn't tell me…
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There was something decidedly wrong when even Lavi, blunt and in denial as he was, picked up on the fact that Allen was, in recent days, flirting.
Hard.
With him.
It was, oh, simple things, really –
Okay, so it was nerve-wracking as all hell.
Allen kept touching him, these days. Lavi would be the first to admit that he was usually the one who threw his arm around the beansprout's shoulders, or the one who started their roughhousing and who was responsible for them being reprimanded by Link like they were two overgrown kids. The point was, Allen never really rejected his physical affection – save when he started being obnoxious, not that he ever was, thank you very much – but the boy was never the one to initiate it.
Now though, it was an entirely different situation.
Whenever Allen passed him a tea cup, his fingers would linger just a little too long on the cup before withdrawing, ungloved right hand always brushing against the tips of Lavi's fingers and leaving them uncomfortably warm.
If they were reading in the library with Link writing his reports and keeping an eye on them, Allen would lean just slightly on him, enough for Lavi to feel the warmth of his shoulder on him before Link would cough and Allen would lean away, looking like he was wholly absorbed in his novella.
The times when they could get the training grounds to themselves, Allen would make fierce eye contact with him. Yeah, yeah, it could be the intensity of battle and all, but a strange little smile would play upon Allen's lips and Timcanpy, settled on Link's head, seemed to pay especial attention to their training these days.
And dear lord, after training, Allen would be flushed and sweaty and seriously, they both would stink, but Allen's eyes would be bright on his flushed cheeks and he would grin at Lavi in a way he had never done before.
There were a hundred other little things. Allen's laughter, his smile, the attention he paid to what Lavi was talking about, the way that – without even discussing it beforehand these days – they would meet up for mealtimes and make sure to sit together…
He gulped and wondered if his secret could possibly have been found out. Allen wouldn't have known, would he? He was sure he hid it well, he wasn't a Bookman's Apprentice for nothing after all. And, well, if Allen hadn't known before this, there was no way he could suddenly, for some reason, know it now. He hadn't done anything special these few days…had he? He racked his memories and was sure he did nothing out of the ordinary.
At the moment though, Link was nowhere to be seen. For once Lavi wanted the man to be present if only to make them both more self-conscious. He forced himself to face Allen who had somehow managed to corner him for a chat in the middle of a corridor.
Well, to be fair, maybe it was only Lavi over-reading things. After all, it was entirely conceivable that Allen was being a little more friendly than usual these days. He talked a little more with Jeryy, complimenting him on his cooking; he even suffered through Johnny's enthusiasm on the makings of his new uniform with wonderful grace and an eternal smile; and with several of the female Finders he had gotten to know better through his missions, he had talked to them more and was doing almost the same thing with Lavi – touching them on the shoulder or arm. Respectfully, of course, and always with a sweet smile that managed to make them blush a little.
And Lavi only knew all these because – well, yeah, because he was a Bookman's Apprentice, that's why. He had to notice these things that happened around him. He swallowed any bitter feelings he might have had and concentrated on the present.
To anyone else Allen was just leaning against the wall having a nice chat with a friend. One shoulder against the wall, head tilted very slightly at an angle, revealing just a little of his neck, eyes focused and smiling at Lavi's own, and his smile, oh god, his smile. Surely it was just a normal smile, but there was a little something in the tilt of his lips that made it almost a smirk that was just…not ordinary.
Lavi tugged at his collar. Allen's eyes flickered to it and he smiled a little wider, but he took care to make no note of it to Lavi, not even asking him if he was feeling too warm. No, that would scare him away too quickly. Lavi was already visibly jittery and Allen had to struggle to not let his smile widen too much.
He was starting to really enjoy the perks of his job. For the redhead's sake, he made sure the conversation was natural enough.
"So you've seen the notice for the party?"
"Yeah," Lavi said quickly, latching onto the safe topic. "Weird, huh, holding it at this time?"
"Oh, I don't know." Allen shrugged, the action drawing attention to how, well, nice he looked that day in casual clothes instead of his usual heavy Exorcist coat that he was fond of wearing. "It's the summer and close to your birthday. That's something, isn't it?"
Lavi, startled, widened his eye then lowered his head, scratching at the back of it.
There was a pause during which Allen straightened up a little, sensing that he had stepped onto something without even really realizing it.
Lavi's thoughts switched rapidly from Allen to his birthday. Twenty one years, fifteen years since becoming an Apprentice, five years since joining the Black Order, three years since he found himself swaying from what he was so sure was his life's goal, and just a few days to another day when he had to wonder, amidst all the good wishes, what the hell he was actually doing with his life and to face the impressive neutral face of Bookman's. The old man who would only see the addition of years as a step closer to Lavi taking the helm. For some strange perverse reason a birthday (just another day in the year, really) seemed to bring these unbidden thoughts to his mind.
And he knew that more than a bit of his worries had to do with the boy standing in front of him, looking at him with careful concern. Lavi smiled, cold and faint. He looked out at the sunny, clear day.
"Yeah, I guess."
Playful countenance shifting completely into concern, Allen's hand reached out to grasp Lavi's shoulder. Lavi jumped and looked back at him, smiling again, able to fool anyone but the two of them. Allen frowned.
"Don't smile if you don't want to," he managed to say quietly, mentally kicking himself for having touched a sensitive topic without even realizing it. How stupid, he cursed himself.
Oh, but also, how very, very rich. Lavi wanted to laugh. "I could say the same to you, sprout," he said softly, his smile stretched and his eye unreadable.
Allen stiffened and dropped his gaze.
What a failure this was – it could have brought days of hard work crashing down just because Allen was stupid enough to talk about Lavi's birthday, when it was already obvious that he didn't have too fond memories of his birthday, even in the past years when they had all celebrated it with him. How did he forget the too-wide grin, the almost forced laughter?
Allen's lips twisted and he let his hair fall over his eyes, covering it. His grip tightened for a moment before he shifted, still not looking at Lavi, about to bring his hand down.
Lavi had regretted the words the minute he said them. Almost panicked, he reached a hand up to grab Allen's, bringing it down to hang between them, a loosely curved bridge.
It was an empty corridor and the bright light shining in, casting long shadows of their figures on the stone floor. Lavi, assured that Allen was not about to run away any time soon, looked back out at one of the warm days that England would get. He was staring into a sunny winter day, three years ago, whether Allen had known from then the degree of authenticity in his smiles, when it had started to change.
There was a pause, an intangible shift in mood, and Allen started to pull away. Lavi loosened his hold to let him when, in a turn of events, Allen tightened his grip on Lavi's hand, lifting his head to make eye contact again. There was a time for talking and Allen promised him, silently, later. Later which was not in a corridor where anyone could walk in on them and – oh, right, now Lavi got it – where Link was standing just at the curve, waiting with rare good-will for his charge to finish.
So much for a good, light-hearted session. Where he ruined his chance at flirting with Allen, in favour of his good ol' angsty reminiscence. Lavi wanted to kick himself.
"You always were good at remembering things, weren't you?"
Lavi blinked at the change of topic. He nodded, wondering what it had to do with everything else.
Allen smiled, a soft, almost gentle smile. There was something dark on its edges that Lavi couldn't identify.
"Use it well at the party."
Letting go of his hand, Allen brushed past Lavi and headed down the corridor, leaving the man confused, shaken from the rapidity of the changes in mood in their short encounter, and not a little curious about what the party would hold, seemingly more than a simple stress reliever.
When he finally decided to leave a few minutes later, he shook his head and stared back at the barely visible clouds in the sky, sure that somehow, somewhere, God was laughing at him for his stupidity.
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"113…119…127. Your synchronization rate lies at 127%," Hevlaska said in her usual wispy voice. There was a barely discernable frown pulling at her lips as she put Allen down onto the platform. At the side, Link scribbled down the information on his notebook.
Allen attempted to smile up at her. "Thank you, Hevlaska," he said sincerely.
"It is not a problem, Allen," her tendrils retracted, coming back to rest around her huge body.
Usually, at this point, Allen would have left, Link following him and thus leaving Hevlaska to her thoughts and her worries about her fellow Exorcists, not the least of them the boy currently standing in front of her. However, this time Allen wasn't moving from where she had put him down.
"There is something troubling you, young Allen," she said softly, leaning forward a little against the barrier. Allen, having been lost in thought for a while, jerked his head back up.
"What do you mean, Hevlaska?" He said, with worry tinting his every word.
Ah, so he had indeed been anxious, as she had been, over his Innocence. "Your synchronization rate has been fluctuating…it is very normal for Exorcists to have changing rates, but yours have dropped and increased at random…"
Allen looked down, gripping the railing tightly.
Link looked at his notes where it was stated, in dark ink, the truth of what Hevlaska had just said. Just last week when Walker's arm had been hurting his synchronization rate was 112%, and now just a week later it had jumped up again. And yet, a month ago when Walker had been barely able to move his arm for the pain (thankfully not when he was carrying out a mission), his synchronization rate had been 139%.
There was no clearly observable pattern to this. Link looked back up to continue observing the conversation.
Allen was still keeping silent. Hevlaska raised a tendril and placed it on the top of his head, meant to soothe. But Allen was taking no visible comfort from this.
"Have the Generals before this ever experienced…this?" Allen finally said in a very small voice.
Hevlaska kept her stroking motion, keeping it long and slow even as she thought. When she shook her great head, Allen's face fell.
"The Generals have either had steadily increasing rates…or they have stayed at a constant percentage for a long time," she said truthfully, even as the sentence seemed to make Allen crumble a little further.
Hevlaska knew that when it came to a Parasitic Innocence, almost everything was left up to chance and observation, given their rarity. The Generals with Equipment Innocence had no major problems, and Lau Jimin was easily controlled by General Nine's steady will and her experience. Walker was the first to have such a problem.
Perhaps it was a problem of will? It was not impossible, given the unearthly connection Exorcists had with their Innocence – Lenalee's crystallization was such a case of her will to protect and fight.
But if that were the case, then the boy most fiercely dedicated to fighting the Earl should be, by all rights, increasing his synchronization rate by leaps and bounds.
Link almost felt guilty, but he had to ask the question. "Hevlaska. Will this pose any problem for the war?"
Allen stiffened, tightening his grip.
Hevlaska smiled. At least this question she could answer with some small measure of comfort.
"Allen Walker has already achieved the synchronization needed for a General-level Exorcist…and once that is reached, it is nearly impossible for him to fall below the 100% rate." It went unsaid – unless, of course, he became a Fallen. Which Link doubted – Walker was far too dedicated for that.
"Remember, Allen Walker," she placed a tendril against his cheek and encouraged him to lift his face, "you are a very special Exorcist, you keep fighting and fighting without fail – you are indeed God's favoured child. I do not think this will be any obstacle to your goals."
Allen's smile was watery, but it was there. Link nearly breathed a sigh of relief – if he were required to report this, at the very least he could speak of Hevlaska's confidence in Walker's abilities. Lveille was concentrating furiously on the Third Exorcist project and their plans to invade the Earl's stronghold, but if he were to suddenly renew and focus his attention on Walker…this should at least protect Walker from an immediate heresy judgment.
In silence, Allen leaned against the barrier, lost in his thoughts.
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His good friend, the guardian of the Black Order Asian Branch, had once spoken to him at length about this.
It was nearly a laughable event. He could still remember Lou Fa's embarrassment when she happened upon them, and then they were tossed into a battle for their lives, but even with the excitement and his growth since then he could still recall very clearly her words.
He tossed an arm over his eyes and concentrated on the sounds he could hear around him. Link was writing out a report at the table in their room, and Timcanpy was sitting on the pillow, chewing on his hair languidly, about to fall asleep. The light blanket was tucked loosely around him. Through the window, the night breeze, heavy with the scent of summer and sweat, ruffled his hair. In this peace he closed his eyes and blocked out the soft candlelight.
"So what do you want to do?"
It wasn't too difficult, even now. Of course his larger goal was on the war, and he would never stop fighting for it. He still wanted to protect both humanity and the Akuma. Crowned Clown hummed, and he relaxed further into the bed.
"You now have comrades, then the Noahs appeared – they've killed so many people in their search for the Heart. You saw a Fallen, and you lost your arm…"
So many things had happened then, it was no wonder he was confused and lost in his battle against the Earl.
But it was all settled now, wasn't it? Shouldn't Crowned Clown be at peace with his resolution, the fact that he, Allen Walker, was fighting for the world like some martyr Master had predicted he would be?
"Do you want to protect your comrades? Do you feel like you must defeat the Noahs, at all costs? Are you mourning over the lives you couldn't save and keep telling yourself, 'this is why I must fight'? The thing that has always propelled you – it is this kind heart of yours, isn't it?"
No, he thought, gritting his teeth. He was not kind at all. He was a selfish person, holding onto his memories of Mana, fighting to salvage his soul. But now he was selfish too, getting caught up in the little game he and Lenalee were weaving, such that he had nearly forgotten what he was fighting for, that he was even fighting in the first place.
The week had been such a welcomed break, was Crowned Clown punishing him for that? For forgetting Mana and the Earl and the Akuma?
Crowned Clown wasn't telling him an answer, it merely continued gently pulsing.
"Now, your generous heart is telling you that you must fight, but has that caused your deeper feelings to be buried?"
Lenalee had leaned toward him, giggling after the briefing, saying in a sing-song manner, "you are in love, Allen?"
He had laughed and brushed off that comment. Of course he was not in love. He likes Lavi. He was willing to admit so. He even loves him as comrades love each other, as friends do, as siblings do. He knows it's not a deep, soul-abiding love.
Not yet, his mind helpfully added, and Allen wanted to shut that little voice up.
But that didn't mean anything. Just because he likes Lavi didn't mean he wanted to fight any less. Like he would for any of his comrades, he would protect Lavi with his life and he wouldn't regret it. If every so often he had wished that he was a normal teenager, allowed to live his life in peace –
Those moments were brushed off and forgotten, stored only as a wistful dream.
"We do not fight because of war. And we do not live because of war."
He was nearly doing that, he realized, eyes fluttering open against his arm. He knew he'd be useless, crippled after the war, if he survived to see the end of the war. He'd live his everyday life in fear of the next Akuma attack, flinching from passers-by brushing him. He wanted the war to end, how could he not? But when it was war, everything was so simple – he didn't really have a future after, a concrete vision he could fight for.
When the 14th invaded his mind and memories he was fighting to make sure he was himself, and in the process he had lost the certainty of Mana's love for him. He knew he still loves Mana and his comrades and the Akuma he fights for, but he was starting to lose sight of everything, once more. Was that why Crowned Clown was hurting?
"We fight because we have something important to fight for."
He clenched his eyes shut. He knew he was not in love – he knew it could very well end badly, perhaps it'd have been better if he never started it in the first place. If they ever started seeing each other more intimately than what they have been doing, when everything is said and done with Lavi would leave as a Bookman, and Allen would be left to pick up a normal life after the battle-weary years in which, at the very least, he had lived with a focused if vague target of peace.
That might be why. A deep weariness settled over him.
Hevlaska said his troubled mind might have reflected in his wildly fluctuating synchronization. Master Cross had never had a problem, because bastard as he was, he had a single, focused goal in mind. What that was he would never know, but he was sure that was why Hevlaska said the other Generals did not have any such problem.
And if that was the case, then – he clenched his fist – dropping the game and wishing it had never started in the first place would not help. Trying to drop his fondness of Lavi wouldn't either – he knew it would rebound, badly. Then the only thing he could do was to go on with this plan, and see what happened from there.
He was exhausted. He didn't want to think any more. As he relaxed his body and allowed the tire of the day to catch up with him, Crowned Clown hummed, lulling the boy to sleep.
