I am so sorry about the lack of updates, and lack of job and summer school and yuck... plus stress (my computer does one teeny tiny thing and I fly off the handle... I have issues)
Any who, moving on...
Enjoy the next chapter!
Stage fright had never been a problem with Allen, one of the few things he was thankful of his blindness. The mutterings of the crowds the only thing he knew of his audience until the final key was struck and his last note resonated in the music hall, their faces forever unknown to him, something he didn't actually mind too terribly.
The thunderous applause resonated in his very feet as they did in his ears. Allen felt his shoulders sag as he sighed, his body bowing to the unknown crowd. When he first lost his sight, the sounds he could make without seeing were his hands fell made happiness bud in his chest, his face lighting up and he found himself able to forget the travesties of his past, if just for a moment.
Now, almost tragically, music had lost its appeal, becoming a job rather than a love. He still felt something for his music, but somehow, it had faded.
"Good job boy," a voice greeted him as the young man managed to move offstage.
"Thanks Cross," Allen muttered, his fingers outstretched as he silently asked for his cane.
"Cheer up boy, you got a standing ovation," Cross encouraged, "try and look a little happier for meeting the audience."
Allen felt his teeth tighten at the words, the words 'cheer up' making him feel anything but.
"I've had depression since I was eighteen," the blind man muttered, "look a little happier doesn't exactly work."
Allen could feel the glare that Cross gave him, his shoulders sagging as he sighed.
"If you're feeling depressed, take the medicine your doctor gave you," the man murmured as his hand touched the back of the young man, guiding him to where the audience was milling out too, their voices murmuring and the feet pounding on the carpeted floor.
"Trying not to," the young man explained, "doctors said that medication could interfere with my surgery-"
"Then don't have it," Cross shrugged, "seeing's not all that important-"
"But it is to me," Allen protested, "Cross, we've been over this; I want that surgery, I've worked too hard not to have it."
"And I've told you," his guardian snapped, "once you get your eyes back, your livelihood is gone. No one's going to hire you."
"That's a risk I'll take," the blind man muttered as he stepped through the doors, the breeze created by their opening making his hair ruffle over his face, his eyes closing instinctively.
This wasn't the first time Cross had vehemently denied and opposed cataract surgery, though Allen had a very strong and accurate opinion that it had to do with the money the man would lose as his manager.
Cross only saw money when I came to Allen, having him perform in small venues before moving up to the large stage, all the while exploiting his disability. Allen was then thankful when Tyki stepped up to Cross in one of those dinky bars, offering to be his publicist. Aside from allowing Allen's popularity to grow, he kept the boy's best interests at heart, never pushing him to beyond what he couldn't handle and treating him more than just a one trick pony.
"How're you feeling?"
As though summoned by thoughts alone, Tyki managed to appear beside him, an obvious business smile affixed to his lips.
"Tired," Allen admitted softly, "how long do I have to stay here?"
"An hour or two tops," his publicist told him, his hand taking over Cross', "just smile and wave and then I'll drive ya home."
"Wave to what, the wall?"
"Only if I point you there," Tyki muttered in response to Allen's sarcastic remark.
The voices he spoke to were polite and reserved, some hiding and feigning amazement at his disability, other's obviously testing his sight, or lack thereof. The night was as smooth as they had ever been, several of his guests leaving before he even met them, not that Allen minded terribly, wanting desperately to leave as early as he could. Thankfully, a majority of his audience were heading to bars or restaurants, meaning the crowds thinned quicker.
"There he is!"
Allen physically froze at the jubilant voice, his head wiping around to where the sound emanated from, a distinct grumbling reaching his ears.
"Hey!" the other continued, "we made it!"
Allen groaned, turning with Tyki towards the excited voice.
"Hey," Allen murmured towards Lavi, something clicking in his mind, "wait, what do you mean, you made it?"
"Oh, that," Lavi seemed to grinned, "see, your publicist gave us tickets for tonight and-"
"Tyki!" the blind man snapped, his hand reaching to smack the other's arm.
"You made a scene in the restaurant. I had to do something to rectify the situation," the elder told him calmly, stepping away from the younger to shake hands with the rabbit. "Thank you for coming."
"It was a pleasure," Lavi seemed to smile, "even Kanda enjoyed himself, didn't ya, Kanda?"
"Che," was the only thing Kanda muttered in response.
"Oh, that just means he liked it," the other pressed, "I speak Kanda-ese. It was an amazing performance!"
"I'm not a foreign language you stupid rabbit!" Kanda suddenly snapped, "and I didn't want to go, you just dragged my ass here!"
"Well you wanted to see it!" Lavi defended, "Kanda, don't be a jerk!"
"Wait, why did you bring him?" Allen questioned, his head tilted in curiosity, "I thought you had a girlfriend?"
"Had being the operative word," Lavi told them, "we had a mutual break-up."
"Oh you poor thing," Tyki interrupted, brushing passed Allen, "tell me, how are you feeling?"
"Fine; we both decide that, while it was fun, we were better off as friends," the other told him.
"Otherwise he wouldn't be standing here," Kanda muttered.
"Regardless, it still must hurt on some level," Allen heard the elder continue, his arms most likely around the rabbit, "tell me all about it, over a strong drink."
"Well, if you insist-"
"Tyki!" the pianist called, "you're supposed to drive me home!?"
"Kanda can do it!" Lavi called back, "actually, now that you mention it, I do feel kinda bad about it…"
"Tyki!" Allen tried once more, his shoulders sagging as he sighed, "not again…"
"Again?" Kanda asked, "he's done this before?"
"On multiple occasions," Allen muttered, his hand tightening around his cane as he heard the other sigh. Slowly, his free hand reached into his wallet, hoping he had had the foresight to bring enough for a cab ride home. "Don't uh… don't suppose you could follow through on Lavi's offer?" the younger found himself asking weakly.
"You're kidding," Kanda snorted, "I don't even know you."
"Right, pardon me for thinking you were a kind soul," Allen mumbled sarcastically, "I forgot."
"Well now that we have that settled," the elder commented, "best of luck."
Allen had never so instantly hated someone in all his life. True, the young man hated the pitying looks and whispers around him, but people who had little to no regard for those around him irritated him to the ends of the earth and back.
"Boy!"
The young man groaned at the sound of the gruff voice, his eyes turning to where Cross was marching towards him.
"There you are," the man announced, "where's your publicist?"
"He had a prior arrangement," Allen lied, hating himself for his next few words, "so… I-I'll need a ride home-"
"That's his job, not mine," Cross snapped, "did he really just abandon you for some tail!?"
"Like you're any different," the blind man muttered bitterly, "you use me to get tail!"
"But it's his job to drive you home," the elder pointed out, "you got someone else?"
"I'm asking you," Allen snapped, "clearly, the answer is no."
"Which also happens to be my answer," Cross informed him, "sorry boy, but I got a meeting with some other venues for the next month or so. Catch a cab."
"That was the plan from the start," the blind man murmured, doing his best to ignore the quiver of worry in his heart.
Part of him feared taking cabs, knowing that there only needed to be one man to take advantage of his handicap and he would be dumped somewhere in the city, unable to identify his attacker.
With a pat on his shoulder and a quick 'good luck', Cross made his way to what sounded like some theater owner, laughing jollily and sounding exuberant. Sucking up what pride he had, Allen slowly moved towards the front doors, a hand on his arm simultaneously stopping and scaring him.
"Calm down!" the voice snapped, "it's just me!"
"Right! Cause I could totally tell that!" Allen snapped, his heart still hammering from Kanda's action, "you startled me!"
"Scared you more like," Kanda muttered, his arm pulling on Allen's, "come on."
"Huh?" the young man asked, thoroughly confused.
"You've got me to feel sorry for you, I'll take you home," the elder seemed perturbed by the mere thought, his frustration vanishing in confusion as the wrist he held wrenched from his hand.
"Don't pity me," Allen hissed, his eyes glaring vehemently at Kanda, "don't you dare."
Kanda froze slightly, his teeth tightening as he willed himself not to snap at the younger, not that he himself could blame Allen.
"I wasn't-"
"You were," the blind man was firm, clearly livid from the off-handed comment.
"It was a comment," Kanda told him exasperatedly, "don't be so sensitive."
"You would be too if people pitied you day and night," Allen snapped.
"I don't," the elder muttered, "I made one comment; now, you can get pissed or you can take a ride with me, take your pick."
"Not until you apologize," the young man shook his white locks, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Fine," the clothes ruffled as the elder shrugged, "good luck with the taxi then."
Allen stiffened at the threat, his eyes flickering to where the front door was, torn between his pride and his fear. Cross had already denied his request and there was no one else he could trust, not that he trusted Kanda much in the first place.
"K… Kanda?" Allen found himself calling, hoping that the elder hadn't walked out on him in the time it took for him to deliberate.
"Yes, Moyashi?" Kanda asked.
"Can I please have a ride?" the young man grumbled, his hand tightening on his cane.
"Certainly," the elder seemed to enjoy his victory, "now, can I lead you by the wrist or will you freak out; again?"
Grumbling Allen reluctantly reached for the other, his hand catching the sleeve extended for him, thankful that the elder decided not to humiliate him further by holding hands like he was a child.
Kanda took him towards the theater's underground parking lot, slowing as the elder noticed Allen moving slower on the stairs, his hand gripping the railing rather tightly. Cursing the old building, the younger managed to make it to the bottom without slipping and falling, miraculously in his opinion, the next leg of the journey echoing in the cement parking lot.
"Here."
Confused, Allen felt his hand pulled into the other's, something cold slipped between his fingers.
"What-"
"Oh… right." Sighing deeply, the elder took the object from Allen's hand and proceeded to slip it over his head.
"HEY!"
Squirming away from Kanda, Allen looked towards the direction the elder stood, his brows narrowed.
"It's a helmet!" Kanda snapped, "you need it to ride the motorcycle!"
"M-Motorcycle!?" Allen questioned, "you want me, a blind man, to get on a motorcycle!?"
"Or you could walk," the elder pointed out smartly, the younger practically picturing the victorious smirk playing on the other's lips, "besides, I'm asking you to ride it, not drive it."
Grumbling, the blind man took his cane from around his wrist and folded it up, handing it to Kanda in hopes that he put it away someplace safe.
"Give me the helmet," the younger grumbled.
"Dong freak out, I'm putting it on you," Kanda told him, "if I let you do it, you'll put it on backwards."
"Right, because then I wouldn't be able to see where we were going, what a travesty that would be," Allen muttered sarcastically, standing still as something slid over his head, his breath reflected to his face.
"If you're done being a smartass," Kanda's voice, now further away, called to him, Allen swallowing thickly as he shuffled slowly towards him, aided when Kanda gently tugged at his sleeve.
How Allen managed to get his leg over the seat he hadn't a clue, but he was aware of his blush as Kanda, sighing in frustration, guided his leg by gripping his thigh. Telling himself it had everything to do with the proximity of the appendage, Allen tried to minimize the contact of the person he knew little about. It quickly became apparent, however, that that was not an option as Kanda, reluctantly, pulled the arms around his middle tighter. Their contact was made closer as Kanda gunned his bike up, a wave of nervousness washing over Allen.
His fear was sated at the safety with which Kanda drove, his starts and stops smooth and he let Allen cling tightly to his middle. Surprisingly, this stranger, the man Allen knew for an hour at most, gave him confidence, even when his feet weren't touching the ground and he was at the elder's mercy.
Kanda managed to get to Allen's house without much hassle, the young man sitting behind him only quivering a little from the gratefully swift ride.
"Right, we're here," Kanda muttered as he slipped off the bike first.
"Y-Yeah… thanks," the young man stammered, "you're gonna have to help me with Tim."
Kanda turned to look at the younger man alighting from the motorbike, his hands finding the helmet and pulling it off slowly.
"Pardon?"
"Tim's been with me for four years now, he's developed a bad habit or two," Allen explained as he handed the black helmet to him.
"Just two?" Kanda muttered under his breath, the silver eyes narrowed as he swatted the elder's arm, with surprising accuracy for a blind man.
"Anyway," the younger grumbled between gritted teeth, "he's grown to jumping up on me when I come home after leaving him for more than an hour, which is why someone goes in before me and pushes him back."
"Can't you suffer through it for a day?"
"I'm worried about cracking my head or Tim running off or-"
"Only one of those is an actual concern," Kanda grumbled as he sighed deeply, "you know I'm not your damned babysitter, right?"
"You know I don't have one, right?" Allen shot back, his unseeing eyes glaring at the elder, "and you owe me for that comment."
"I owe you nothing!" the elder snapped, both young men glaring at each other, neither refusing to give an inch.
"Fine," the blind man muttered, "then you owe me for that little stunt in the library."
"You're still hung up on that!?" Kanda gripped.
"If it gets you to just open the door then yes, I am," Allen snapped sarcastically, his arms crossing over his chest, "look, he's a good boy; he just gets excited easily and, since I can't see him to stop him, I need someone else to do it for me."
Hearing teeth grind, Allen felt grateful that his reason had persuaded the elder to do something for him.
"One little thing, and then that's it," the elder muttered, "then, I do nothing for you ever again."
"How shall I survive?" the blind man grumbled sarcastically.
Feet crunched up the walkway in front of Allen, his cane guiding him towards his front door, something he knew by memory now.
Holding out the keys, Allen gave them to the elder as best he could, his fingers indicating which one was for his house.
"WAGH!"
Allen inferred what his dog had done by the thump on the floor and the happy panting, the wag causing a draft over Allen's face.
"Get… OFF!"
The young man grinned as he lowered himself to his knees, his hands open for his dog.
"Hey Tim," Allen smiled as he reached for his dog, his hands around the floppy ears, "hey buddy!"
"Is that everything you need, your highness?" Kanda grumbled as he dusted off his coat and stood, "geez he's big!"
"Yes thank you," the younger stood, his fingers around the dog's collar, "it was nice to meet you, and it's even nicer never to see you again."
"You never did in the first place," the elder shot back, "and I wouldn't exactly count on that either."
Confused by the grumble in Kanda's voice, Allen felt his head tilt slightly, curiosity across his face.
"Those men Cross was talking with," Kanda explained in response to the unasked question, "they're for a gallery my art is getting shown at. In other words, you and I are, unfortunately, going to be working together for a bit."
Ahem... reviews? Lemme know your thoughts.