Kanda didn't remember falling asleep. And in waking, he surfaced gradually and vaguely disoriented. Everything was warmer than it should have been and it barely even felt like the same room. The air flowed differently. It was easier to breathe. Maybe he had slept through the week and already moved to his new foster home. Maybe he had never even moved to Froi's. Maybe he had never found Allen Walker.
But everything smelled like him.
Kanda opened his eyes slowly. It was early. Too early. The sun was barely playing at the closed blinds. It would be hours before his alarm clock sounded. For once, he didn't want to get out of bed.
The first thing he saw was grey. Grey eyes. He opened his own eyes wider. A soft smile. And there was a hand—a warm, warm, warm hand—gently resting on his cheek, fingertips languidly stroking his hair.
Kanda gasped and shoved Allen away, then sat up and slammed his back against the wood panel wall, as far away from Allen as possible. His heart pounded and his veins throbbed. He choked on his own breath.
Allen sat crumpled on the floor. His face paled until that scar looked like a fresh streak of blood on snow. Then blush raced across his cheeks. He pulled his legs up to his bare chest and buried his face in his hands. His ears and neck reddened.
"What the fuck," Kanda breathed, "What the fuck, Moyashi? What the fuck were you doing?"
His cheek still felt warm from where Allen had been.
"I'm sorry," Allen said, almost whispered. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I—"
"What the fuck were you doing?" Kanda asked again.
Allen refused to look up. "Kanda… I… I… You… You were saying my name… in your sleep. I mean, 'Moyashi,' you kept saying 'Moyashi.' I… I just… I kinda thought…" His shoulders shook.
Kanda buried his hands in his hair and a low growling noise clawed out of his throat. "I do not fucking say names in my sleep, Moyashi, especially not yours." He looked up and saw Allen was watching him, bare chest heaving. Kanda locked onto his trembling grey eyes. Allen scooted further away. "I don't give a fuck about you. You're fucking disgusting. Get out," Kanda spat.
Allen looked down for a second, then reached for his clothes, politely folded on the floor next to him. "Sorry… I guess… I forgot. I forgot that you think I'm disgusting. That was probably really naive of me, wasn't it? I… I just thought…" He didn't look back up.
Kanda covered his face with his hands. He let the question hang in the air. Allen probably didn't even expect an answer. He heard a few strangled breaths and heavy sighs, but didn't uncover his face until the front door slammed.
Kanda stood up and grabbed the top blanket off the floor. He intended to fold it, but instead lay back down on his bed and hugged it to his chest. His blood stung with rage and hate pulsed through his veins but he didn't know who or what it was supposed to be directed at.
After a few seconds of quiet thought, he supposed, maybe himself. He pressed his face into the blanket and pretended it didn't smell like Allen.
"End of the week," he told the blanket, "I just have to survive to the end of the week. Then I'll never see the Moyashi again."
Kanda fell back asleep with his chest, stomach, veins, bones feeling hollow until dreams of a scarred smiling face filled him with warmth.