Flame
They flickered around each other, basking under the heat of denial and watching each other—wondering who was going to bring it about first. Neither one of them was willing to settle his pride for the sake of admitting that whatever animosity they had between them had possibly shifted into something else. It was too difficult to admit that the fiery battle they'd laid down at their feet was slowly crumbling in the ashes and rising like a bird of flame into something of a different blaze.
Kanda's eyes held the solid coldness of a frigid winter and Allen's eyes were the softly glinting light of that winter's sun. It was melting the ice and setting fire to the unusually stoic man. Every motion had become lit by a burning desire to succeed and do it with a swiftness that would leave Allen Walker in his smoke trail.
But somewhere, it had become something different; a wild fire out of control, until his body was singing with molten passion. His steps were quicker, more fluid and he moved with the desire to fight for more than his obligation. When this had happened, he hadn't known. Allen hadn't known either. They were dancing the bonfire they'd set in their own dissonance.
Dark hair flashed about in the sparks of burning wood. The chapel around him crumbled as they danced. He fought for no one, but he was fighting for him. His sword left his enemies shattered and the fell to a backdrop of fire and brimstone.
"Get up, beansprout."
His voice was nearly lost to the explosions closing in on them. The hell they were attempting escape from was falling around them, trapping them in an inferno and there was no way to escape as they were. There was no way to carry him and leave without being caught in the fray. Volcanic fury kept his blade moving, even as his lung filled with thick smoke. If Allen could get up, they he could lead them out. He could fight the shots raining down on them.
He could blanket the death coming down, if Allen could move.
"Beansprout. Come on, you little fucker." His voice howled above the roaring fire that was inching closer. Desperation was simmering under his collar, making him sweat with a sudden concern and possible fear that they were not going to get out of it, if Allen didn't wake up from the tremor that shot them into the lower levels of the destroyed building.
Fingers of the fallen form twitched, hearing the sounds of screams and boiling heat licking his limbs. He felt like he was choking, lying in a pool of heavy smoke. Everything felt heavy and he could barely make sense of his surroundings. But he hear a voice and he tried to clear his head for it.
"Wake up, mother fucker. Wake up. If you fucking die here, I will hate you for real."
He felt a spark light in his chest and he forced his eyes open, needing to respond—begging his body to move. The will to fight simmer until it boiled and he reached for Kanda.
He couldn't be left alone in the ashes this time, he'd burn beside Kanda.