Installment numero dos! So it occurred to me that there might be people who are reading this who haven't read anything else by me – or at least I noticed a few names I've never seen before in the reviews. Thus I thought I'd introduce me a little this time!

I'm Niamh (pronounced Neev for those of you who don't read Gaelic), I'm a college student, and currently very poor. I don't eat wheat, rye, barley, spelt, or dairy products, and I have a strong love for non-con, romance, sweet slow lovemaking, vegetables, and chocolate. I'm pretty normal otherwise! :3

And now ficage!

Warnings: Fluffy shounen-ai. Lavi being needy and touchy feely and kissy and sad. Tyki being a contradiction.

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man. If I did…

-- -- --

Chapter Two: Everything's Vacant

The second day went much like the first, though Tyki tried his hand at eggs and successfully burned them for breakfast and managed to under cook the meat he made for dinner. Lavi slept most of the time that he wasn't eating, a bit feverish in the evening, waking often from strange, startling dreams that he could never remember the content of. The third time he woke screaming, Tyki stoked the living room fire, grabbed the blankets from his bed and a throw pillow and decided that camping on Lavi's floor was better for both of them. It wasn't the best thing for his spine by any means, but it took only a softly spoken word for the blind Exorcist to take comfort from his presence.

The next morning, the fever came back again, worse. Tyki tried to keep the boy plied with cool wash rags and warm tea and water, what remained of the chicken broth when meals came. The afternoon contained very little conversation, though that had more to do with the fact that it was hard to tell when Lavi was sleeping and when he wasn't with his eyes covered. Night saw his temperature rise to dangerous heights, enough so that Tyki forced the boy to wake and drink water for fear that he would dehydrate, begin to cough in order to moisten his lungs, and come down with pneumonia. It was only an hour before dawn that the fever broke and Lavi slept unbothered, and even then the Noah stayed up to watch over him, changing bloodied bandages and watching the slow rise and fall of the Exorcist's chest. By midmorning he fell asleep draped against the redhead's bed, a wet rag in one hand, the blanket he had used to keep warm clenched in the other.

So on the third morning when Lavi woke feeling sore and mildly ill and a bit like he needed to find the bathroom, his hand found the top of Tyki's head before he could so much as whisper for assistance. The older man did not stir beneath his touch, nor did he immediately feel the urge to pull away and apologize for the accidental brush of contact – instead he let his hand move slowly through Tyki's hair and, eventually, down the length of the man's braid. From there he felt the opposite side of the bed, searching for the edge.

He remembered that he had been sick, though how sick he didn't know. He remembered Tyki waking him to give him food and water, as well as the occasional changing of the cloth that had rested on his forehead. That meant, if he was right, that the older man had nursed him slowly back to health until he had collapsed in exhaustion himself, unable even to move back to his place on the floor.

If the man was willing to do that much, then Lavi could at least find his way to the bathroom without waking him. Maybe. With luck. And something to lean on.

The redhead's right ankle had been set and splinted using what felt under his fingers like parts of an old dining room chair, wrapped in what might have been cloth and an obliterated coat hanger. A cast like that – if it could even be called­ a cast – wasn't about to hold his weight for more than a minute.

All the same he reached out of the bed and found the corner of something. It was wooden, taller than a nightstand and the headboard, and a bit of feeling around lead him to believe it was a half-empty bookshelf, decorated with little more than a candle that was thankfully unlit when he knocked it over. That, at least, would serve as a means by which to pull his weight from the mattress before he found something to use as a replacement for his right leg.

Turning so his feet hung to the floor started a throbbing in his right leg, and his shoulders protested agonizingly when he lifted both of his arms over his head enough to grab a hold of the shelf he intended to use to move. When he pulled downward, straining, a little hiss of pain made its way through his teeth and he heaved himself up on his left foot, which felt oddly unsteady on the carpet. The room felt off center, or tilted, like someone had placed it in the middle of a slightly unbalanced lazy Susan. He teetered to the right a bit before he leaned more heavily on the shelf, trying to still the movement of the world around him with will alone.

By the time he had gathered the strength to hobble the length of the bookcase, his arms were shaking. This was a bad thing to try without knowing where the bathroom was, he realized a little too late, and reached out for anything at all to lean on, anything to grab a hold of and use to his advantage.

He leaned out from the bookcase, waving his right arm slowly out to the side of him. Too far – the shelf leaned with him. Between his weight and the angle, the bookshelf made to fall into him crush him, dime novels and the lone candle sliding off of it as he let out a sound of protest, tripping himself before the shelf could tumble with him.

He expected pain. And a lot of noise. Instead he felt a short sting of discomfort where his hands hit the floor, and then nothing – not even a ripple of air against his skin.

"You shouldn't try to get up yet." The voice was behind him, tired sounding, and something thumped as if against the wall. "Only one leg, no idea where anything is, and still at risk for a fever… I wonder if you were this idiotic before you hit your head."

"You were sleeping and I didn't… want to wake you."

"Hungry?"

"Bathroom," Lavi tensed at the curve of an arm under his chest, lifting him easily to stand on his left foot, strong and solid and somehow painless. He felt tired from his excursion, but not enough so to just go back to bed to wait until his desire to use the facilities was beyond ignoring. To his surprise, however, Tyki gently brushed over any wounds he thought might have opened and then provided him with a hand to hold on to and lean on in place of a crutch.

Tyki's voice was very close to his face, and a soft line of black-purple light danced across his right eye at it. "I would carry you, but you'll learn where it is better walking there more or less by yourself. If you cannot go on at any point, just tell me."

Lavi nodded. "Ok. Um… you don't have to do this. I can just… use a pan if that's easier."

"Nonsense, my cooking is bad enough without putting urine in my dishes."

"None of your cooking has been outright terrible… and the tea was good…"

"I have to make coffee anyway. The kitchen is nearer to the bathroom than it should be. This way…" The Noah took a step forward and Lavi leaned on him enough to wobble forward on his left foot. He committed to memory the plush feel the carpet on his toes and the distance which he could travel in a single step: between the two, Lavi began to draw a floor plan in his mind starting with the bed. Six steps away, angled slightly, was the door, on the left side of which was a lamp. From the door there was a two step wide hall, the right path of which led him to a medium sized storage room that had been converted into a study with a bed. He guessed that, after he had been wounded, Tyki had moved rooms to accommodate him.

The left turn of the hallway took them seven steps and into the rear of the kitchen, two more to the end of the hall and into the bathroom. The living room, it seemed, was tacked on to the front of the kitchen with only a short distance between that pretended to be a dining room. The kitchen itself had a door to the hallway, rather than a wide open archway – something Lavi guessed was to close off the back of the house and conserve heat, or something.

Once in the bathroom, he began to add details to his mental map, trying to establish the size of the rooms relative to each other. The bathroom was small, with the toilet on the right between the bathtub and sink, the sink itself on a three-stride-wide cabinet, the sides of which felt like very old, rough tile. Holding the corner of it with his left hand, he let go of his guide and found the back of the toilet before he slipped his fingers down the lid of it and to the seat, almost the same as he had the coffee cup.

"Lavi?"

"I would rather not pee on your floor."

"Oh." The larger man made the sound as if he hadn't thought of the possibility. "Forgive me if I insult you with this but… would it be best if I helped you?"

"Let's risk it first."

"You never struck me as shy."

"I don't think I am, but that doesn't mean I want you aiming my Johnson at the toilet for me, ya know? 'Specially when I dunno how long it is."

Tyki couldn't help but laugh. The sound bounced around the small room, came back louder, and the hand he had kept on Lavi's hip to steady him tightened a little. "I can close my eyes and hold you steady, if that's—" He cut himself off with a chortle, unable to contain himself.

"Yeah right. Leave, pervert. If you here me fall, count to thirty so I can pee all over everything and then get my stuff where you can't see it."

"Really Lavi, I have no interest in your stuff at the moment so—"

Lavi pushed himself up and, remembering how long Tyki's arms had felt the last he had been awake, reached out and touched the older man's face, on his cheek, which in turn caused the man to gasp. Tyki had not expected him to know where to touch. "At the moment?"

-- -- --

The Noah made a short sound of negation and stepped back, forgetting that Lavi needed to be touching him to stand on two feet, before he found himself unwillingly caught in an embrace. He could have clarified that he was being sarcastic, could have pointed out all of the things wrong that Lavi was assuming, but the words did not come. The same as strength would not lift his arms to push the boy away; his mouth would not shape the thoughts that needed to be conveyed. Yes, Lavi was young and attractive, a delicate, brightly colored toy to twist and break, but that didn't mean Tyki harbored anything beyond that desire for him, nothing but the corrupted want to bring pleasure to something that didn't want it. The impulse, the wonder of what, if anything, would happen if it happened, stopped him from being able to even bring his hands up and pull Lavi's fingers away.

"I'll… be outside if you need me." He blurted, and pushed away from the redhead, unable to do anything but walk outside.

He closed the door a little too harshly behind him.

For a long, quiet moment, Tyki stood in the hallway asking himself why it was that the apprentice Bookman's words bothered him so much. The sound of tinkling water disrupted his thoughts.

Before too long water began to run and the toilet flushed, reminding him that he had coffee that needed to be brewed as well. A sound like thumping alerted him that his caffeine addiction would have to wait and he opened the door, peering in to see Lavi leaning heavily on the counter, his face dripping water, cheeks slightly flushed.

"I'm ok." His voice was a very small whisper. "I just feel dizzy." He rocked to the side, dangerously, and Tyki moved to catch him before he could fall, steadying the boy against his chest, an arm snaked beneath both of the redhead's arms. The Exorcist tried to stand with one foot but eventually gave in to leaning on the Noah, rouged cheeks growing redder. Goosebumps broke out across the backs of his hands and he clenched his jaw, fighting a fit of shivers.

"Careful…"

"I don't… feel that great…" Lavi said softly under his breath, as if speaking too loudly would make him weaker.

"Sh… you've overexerted yourself with movement. Can you make it back walking, or should I carry you?"

"I think I might throw up." There was another shiver, more pronounced than before, and Lavi's shoulders curved in with it, as if it might help.

"Don't do that, you've hardly eaten for three days." Tyki soothed, turning Lavi's face up at him the better to study his pallor.

The redhead's mouth opened and closed a few times before he could speak. "Everything is…spinning and I'm… I can't see to know that everything is still. I might…" His lips were dry, Tyki could see it in the bathroom light. "I think that I should lie down."

"Your fever has come back, though it doesn't seem to be as bad as it was before. Hold on to me. Come on, up you go…" Tyki guided Lavi's arms around his own neck allowed them to hook themselves behind him, which allowed him to release his hold on Lavi's ribcage and take him more firmly by the small of his back and the curve of his knees. The redhead was dead weight the moment his left foot stopped touching the floor, his breathing deep and rapid. Fingers twined themselves in Tyki's shirt, pulling at it until the apprentice Bookman touched the skin of his nape.

The boy's fingers felt cold regardless of his fever.

"Tyki?" His name sounded against his neck as he turned out of the bathroom, walking awkwardly to avoid banging any part of the smaller man on the walls.

"What is it, Lavi?"

"I'm not going to die from this, am I?" The question was laced with fear, shot through with a sound like tiredness, so soft he couldn't make himself answer at once. Lavi trembled again, harder, and breathed deeply for a moment while he recovered, his fingers shaking on Tyki's skin. "I… don't know anything about me, or the world, or anyone else but," his voice fell even quieter, "I don't want to die. Not when… I don't know who I am. Or who… you… ugh…" He broke off as they turned out of the hall and into the room, clearing his throat. "I'm being fatalistic, just – are you going to work yourself so hard watching over me that you'll fall asleep half in bed with me again? I don't mind, but you really should get sleep sometime, you know?" Lavi breathed sharply as his back came into contact with the mattress, sore shoulders pressed on the cool covers.

Tyki left his hands on Lavi's upper arms, ensuring the boy that he wasn't moving away yet. "I won't let you die, Lavi." Not yet.

The boy shivered visibly and lifted a hand to blindly touch Tyki's hair, running down the length of his braid, memorizing the feel of it against his hand. It surprised the Noah a little that the redhead could touch him without seeing, could know where his face was and his hair and not poke out an eye or misplace his thumb. "You know, it might be easier if you can sleep where I can touch you. That way I don't wake up screaming like I did before." As Lavi suggested it, Tyki reached out and took the cup of water from the nightstand and pulled the boy's head up, encouraging him to drink half of it before he sat the container aside again. The apprentice Bookman leaned back on the bed when he was finished, swallowing what remained in his mouth.

The Noah moved the covers over the boy's body and touched the skin of his forehead, wondering what it was he should do. With his teeth pressed to his lower lip, he allowed the good to take over, to manifest itself as best as it could these days and make him slowly, uncertainly sink to the bed beside the Exorcist. Almost at once the younger man was curled against his chest, seeking warmth, and he allowed it without thought, curving an arm around the boy's shoulders like a protective shell, shading him from the light he couldn't see. Here, with his arm across the boy's bruises, Lavi would know he was there and, given enough time, Tyki might find dreams himself.

The redhead coughed softly.

Tyki ran his hand in a soothing line against his spine.

"Are you gonna let me sleep like this?"

"You know I'm here now, no matter the dreams you have. You won't have to wake me."

Lavi nodded a little. "It's… very kind of you. All of this. And I… I still feel… dizzy…" His warm forehead, slightly clammy despite its heat, moved into the curve of Tyki's throat, skin against skin. "God, I wish I knew what you look like. For all I know I'm curled up next to a hot guy thinkin' about how sick I feel and not what I could be doin' if I was feeling better. Shit, do I normally come on to people so suddenly? 'Cause it seems kinda natural to try when you're holdin' me like you care or somethin'." He stopped then, awkwardly, and cleared his throat, tugging a little on Tyki's shirt.

The Noah shifted, unsure how to respond, and finally decided that he would allow himself another sliver of humanity, for his own sake, because killing the Exorcist now would make it all a waste of time on top of being a waste of anger. Gingerly, Tyki turned his face down into the redhead's hair and sighed, breathing in the apprentice Bookman's slightly sweaty scent for a moment, noting that he would have to wash the fiery locks at some point. That would be interesting, to say the least. "Get better, Lavi. Then think about it."

"Oh, I think I'm blushing."

"It's just the fever, Lavi. Rest."

"Sure. Interesting place for a fever."

-- --

Twice Lavi woke violently enough to jerk Tyki from his much needed sleep, and once had a frightful enough nightmare to wake the Noah before he did himself. After that the redhead lay in the older man's arms drifting in and out of dreams without knowledge of the change, speaking softly against the man's skin, shaking when fear took him. It seemed to the Portuguese man that Lavi had more nightmares than was fair, especially not knowing anything about what caused them. When the boy called his name, softly, and a hand pushed once more against the skin of his chest, Tyki couldn't push him away. Not anymore than he could have pushed away a frightened child.

And the redhead only held him tighter the more accepting Tyki became.

Around noon, while the apprentice Bookman was sleeping soundly, his fever broke again, leaving him shivering in a cold sweat that didn't quite pull him from sleep. Tyki left the bed and wandered into the kitchen to start coffee and fetch a dry towel, the first of which found its way into the same mugs he had used before while the towel served to wipe the moisture from Lavi's face. The boy woke not long after, trembling. And yet, despite how very weak and frightened he seemed, the redhead still managed to accept the coffee with a smile.

Sitting next to the Exorcist, sipping his beverage, Tyki no longer resisted the urge to touch the younger man every so often just because the option was there, and because Lavi took comfort in every bit of physical contact he received. Every time Tyki touched him without warning the apprentice Bookman grinned a little wider, most of the deeper bruises having faded to the point that they did not hurt so terribly when he accidently came into contact with one.

Conversation was slow, being Lavi never knew what he knew about until Tyki brought it up, but before long they had discussed dime store novels and the scientific composition of the rocks most commonly found in silver mines, as well as the fact that people – collectively – could be dumber than sheep in the right circumstances. The topics changed almost effortlessly, ideas moving at a pace that Tyki could follow regardless of his lack of study habits, until he found himself intrigued by the depth of the younger man's knowledge, watching Lavi explain things with hands that he couldn't see. That was perhaps the oddest part of it all – the Exorcist knew what things looked like and never confused one visual idea for another, even if he could not remember his own face and hair.

It was while he was watching the boy drink the last of the coffee that Tyki felt the smallest twinge of regret. If Lavi remembered, if the boy recalled his past, Tyki would regret having to kill him even after so few days together. It made him sad to think about it. He would gain nothing from keeping him alive, it was true, but he would gain and lose in equal amounts if he killed him.

When he had just started to sink into thoughts he should not have allowed himself to entertain, the redhead turned his face a little and reached out to him, taking Tyki by the tips off his fingers. Silently the Noah prayed that there was some logical reason for the touch and not something along the lines of what had taken place in the bathroom. The fingers that touched him were shaking and cold, so he twined his own through them in the hope of making them warmer.

"Tyki…" Lavi's voice had not lost any of its charm, "Who is Noah?"

It was all the Portuguese man could do to keep from pulling his hand away with a hiss of negation.

"I… remember part of one of my dreams…" The redhead went on. "And there's… I dunno… this really short old guy yelling at someone named Noah, and I can't tell what he's saying. Whatever it is though, he doesn't like what's happening. And his voice is huge, somehow." He fidgeted, closing his hand a little more on Tyki's. He was unsure. He wanted it to be a memory.

And the Noah knew that it was.

'Tyki! Stop it!' The white haired Exorcist had screamed at him, screamed without a thought for his voice. His face was blood covered, the girl beside him doubled over at the painful sight in front of her, fear staining her face when tears would not. And Tyki's right hand, gloved and steady, stayed wrapped firmly around the redhead's heart, his left hand holding him by the space behind his eyes. 'He can't see, you know!? He can't fight blind. He can't! There's no reason… no…reason…' Tyki had squeezed his fingers just to watch the blood seep from the dying boy's mouth.

'Don't do this!'

He would always be so naïve.

'Don't kill him!'

And Tyki would never feel sorry for any of them.

'NOAH!'

"Tyki?" Lavi's voice pulled Tyki back to the moment, back to the place where he had wrapped his fingers around the boy's hand, pulling him gently closer. The Exorcist managed to look confused from behind the fabric covering his eyes. "You ok?"

For a short moment the Noah was silent, mouth open without sound. With a harsh clearing of his throat he let his hand spread on the back of Lavi's, just as close as before without the desperateness he had shown not long ago. "I… am sometimes called Noah." He admitted at length and the hand in his turned palm up, encouraging him. "Tell me… what happens in the dream?" He prodded gently.

Lavi nodded without hesitance. "There's the old guy, and a tall dark figure, and after he yells, everything goes crazy. There are these people with knives coming at me, and there's… this… thing that's after me too, but it's not like the people. I don't want to hurt the people but the thing…"

"Thing?"

"It's… human looking but… it's not human. It's more than that. And even though it will hurt me if I get close, I still have to be close to it… maybe I'm supposed to save it…I don't like thinking about it."

"Lavi," Tyki didn't think as he rocked forward on his knees and brought their faces very close together, a hand curving around the back of the redhead's neck. It was an intimate position, his own idea, and Lavi's lips parted softly, rouge blossoming across his cheeks. "If I told you that what you're remembering is a lie, would you believe me?" The whispered question brought Lavi's face upward a little, so near to his own that he could feel the boy's breath against his lips. He should have pulled away, should have killed him, should have plunged his hand into the younger man's chest and yanked out his beating heart.

But the apprentice Bookman leaned forward and softly, timidly, kissed him, and all thoughts of what he should do dissolved in a grunt of confusion. Lavi withdrew painstakingly slowly, his emotions completely unreadable across half of his face. "Of course I would, Tyki." There wasn't a shred of doubt in his voice, "I trust you."

Despite himself the Noah leaned forward and pulled the Exorcist to his chest, unable to understand what emotion willed him to do it.

The apprentice Bookman returned the embrace with a soft chuckle of amusement, arms curled enough to cocoon the larger man's back in blankets. "Besides, if the world is really as messed up as my dreams, I think I'd rather you let me die at this point. Everything would be… bad. But it's not like that, right? We still… I have you, right?"

Tyki closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think to. "You do."

Lavi made a happy sound in the back of his throat. "I wonder what would have happened if someone else had taken back with them like you did," the redhead whispered. "I wonder if I only feel comfortable touching you and hugging you and hearing your voice because it was you who found me or… if there's something…. Sorry, I shouldn't have—" Fingers, warm and large and gently guiding, tilted his head back as Tyki moved to return the shy brush of lips against his, just enough to make him part his lips in yearning. He was left without more for the moment, warm breath parting over the edges of his mouth.

"If I kiss you back… you don't know what I look like, Lavi, let alone who I am."

The redhead didn't move, but his eyes tried to blink from behind the gauze. "Isn't regret a risk that everyone runs? Even if I knew you, if you changed I might regret having kissed you. This is no different." He reached out and fingered the hem of Tyki's shirt, his face at the exact same angle it had been. "Maybe… it is naïve of me to want to kiss you. And lay close to you. You know? Places where I can feel your heartbeat and… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sor—" He couldn't go on when Tyki's mouth covered his, a curious tongue slipping against his own, teasing before it moved away, tempting him to return the touch behind the older man's teeth. It went on for what felt like a small eternity, his fingers still pinched on Tyki's shirt, a hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

There was something keenly innocent to the touch, something delicate and tender that made things less awkward when they pulled away, fingers still on his chin, a hand still on his torso, and fire burning behind his eyes. Tyki moved both palms to the curve of Lavi's neck and gave him a small, half desperate sort of hug.

Lavi returned it with a brush of his fingers against the larger man's stomach.

"We can't do this."

"I know. I'm sorry. It just seemed…" Lavi's voice cracked around the words, unable to steady them.

Tyki couldn't even soothe him properly, not at the moment. "Rest, Lavi. I have to go out and get groceries, but I'll be back before too long. Can I trust you not to hurt yourself while I'm gone?" Tyki's words were punctuated with a press of his forehead to the corner of Lavi's mouth – not that he meant to do it.

The apprentice Bookman nodded, tried to smile. "Come back in case I have to pee, 'kay?"

Not come back soon. Not come back eventually. Just come back.

"Of course, Lavi." Tyki brushed his fingers through the front of the boy's hair, watching it fall back to where it had been beforehand, fire and red sunlight on the bandage over his eyes. "I'll come back and give you a much needed bath, if you don't mind me seeing you completely and utterly naked for about a half an hour while I wash your hair and clean your wounds." Tyki moved away and Lavi let him, their hands falling away with reluctance. The younger man didn't follow the motion with his face but his fingers curled in the blankets around him.

"Ok. Be safe." He didn't blush this time.

"I always am."

-- --

Nothing was going as planned. Tyki didn't think of himself as a stupid man, but his decisions over the last few days seemed to want to prove him otherwise. Not only had he comforted the Exorcist – something that he was growing used to – he had also kissed him. On the lips. Kissed a younger man on the lips. Kissed an Exorcist on the lips. Kissed an eternally sworn enemy on the lips. It was a trivial thing. Just a kiss. Just a bit of intimacy and trust between them.

Because Lavi trusted him. Lavi had wanted, somehow, to be that close.

With a sigh and a shiver, the Noah turned down the street with his coat pulled around his shoulders. It was a fine spring day, but that didn't mean much here in the north, warm and cold tended to be relative. Though it wasn't raining or snowing at the moment, a harsh north wind was baring down on the city, bringing with it late frost and early fog, wind whipped clouds and large blue chunks of sky. The weather wouldn't last. Before summer it would likely rain for two months.

Tyki wondered if Lavi would remember rain or be frightened of it. The Noah doubted he would have forgotten.

When he thought about Lavi, he didn't know what to do. The boy didn't remember anything, and if he did remember, eventually, he would know exactly who and what Tyki was. It wouldn't mean anything – the kiss, the tenderness, the understanding – it would all just be one big lie. But that was alright, it didn't mean anything to begin with. But if Lavi didn't remember, what would they do? If the boy opened his heart to the enemy without knowing it, what would he do?

Tyki kicked a lump of mud from his path as he turned down Main Street, incapable of making a choice now. As reluctant as he was to admit it, he wasn't adverse to either circumstance, the part that could have simple emotions without questioning his desires, was fond of the redhead. That part of him didn't particularly care who or what the boy was, it wanted to know him better and understand. It was convinced that things could be fine, if only they went on exactly as they had before.

After all, did it matter why he had taken the Exorcist if he didn't, in the end, torture and kill him as planned?

Without thinking about what he was buying, Tyki went about his grocery shopping, ignoring humanity for the most part. His mind was on the young man he had left on the bed in his room, and the fragile quality he had but never showed.

Were they all that breakable? Or was it just this one?

Whatever the case was, he didn't know that he wanted Lavi to break anymore. At least the white didn't think it would be fun like someone else might. Cheating and gambling and laughing about dirty jokes with the boy – that was what the white wanted when it managed to want anything but warm food and friendship.

I suppose I shall have to wait, Tyki thought as he placed an early ripe tomato into his bag. If he becomes attached to me and realizes who I am, he might hurt more than any physical torture could ever make him suffer. But if he's alright with it, if he understands why I wouldn't tell him…

He wanted to smile and gut something. The urge was almost undeniable.

I will wait.

-- --

Lavi wobbled his way to the bathroom before he accidentally found himself in the kitchen, having taken the turn in an effort to find a place to sit before he hobbled back to the room and fainted from exertion. It was there that he found three chairs at a four person table, the missing forth of which was on the table, minus two legs and a back. Next to that he found a bowl of fruit, a knife, hammer, and torn up cloth – the things Tyki had used to cast his leg, it seemed.

He pushed the smaller objects aside to give himself a place to lay his face and arms to rest. He couldn't just sit in the bedroom and wait for Tyki to come back, playing with the plush fabric of the topmost blanket under his hands. Not alone. Being alone – not having the steady sound of another human being near him – brought back all of the nightmares and all of the dreams he had had since he had come here. It didn't matter when Tyki was here to tell him the truth, to hold him in a gentle embrace and guide his weakened body across the house, but it mattered now.

There were faces in his head that didn't have names, conversations that didn't have topics, arguments that he didn't have a side for anymore. None of it made any sense to him. None of it fell into order. And thinking about himself, his purpose, what he wanted to do, who he loved – it all gave him nothing but a blank, black slate and the feeling that someone had been there once, someone he knew a lot about. The emptiness stretched on and on and on before him, starting with the date of his birth and ending when he had come here, waking to the feeling of painful fingers on his face.

Tyki had found him. And brought him here. And saved him. That he could fill in for himself, but the rest of it, the past wouldn't come to mind between them.

But with that kiss…

They hadn't been lovers before, he understood that, but that didn't stop his mind from wondering. The touch of a hand on his jaw, the warmth the man put off, hair dancing slowly through his fingertips – God, it felt so good. And he liked Tyki – for his kindness most of all, but also for the smile in his voice and the way he talked, as well as the conversation. Touching, the press of a chest against Lavi's face, that was good, too.

He sighed across the table and let out a tiny whimper. Thinking about the older man made him feel very, very alone without him. Outside of the house was a mystery to him and, to make matters worse, he hadn't even found the front door yet. He wasn't a prisoner here, but he felt a bit like one. The only thing he knew about the house was that nearly everything felt like wood or tile, and the bed was very soft.

His right eye started to hurt a little, though not enough to make him want to rub it. The salve's numbing properties were starting to wear off. He tried to ignore it – tried to pick out something else to focus on, but it didn't want to work at the moment.

Distantly, a pair of voices started in the back of his head.

'But doesn't that qualify as interfering a little?'
'Bookmen do not end wars and do not stop them, there is nothing stated about fighting them.'
'Then what happens if we find out my Inno—'

"Fuck," Lavi breathed the curse softly against the table, louder than the voices in his head. He'd only been thinking about the pain in his eye, not trying to recall a conversation he'd had with someone he couldn't remember. His brain went and did it for him, and he squinted his eyes at it unthinkingly, which hurt more than leaving his face alone had.

'Oi! Bean sprout!'
'Shut up!'
'Look! Snow! Let's go make snow angels!'
'Yeah!'
'Che. You two are like children…'

"Stop it. I don't know these people."

'Deak.'
'Did you just call me my previous log name?'

"Stop it."

'Don't get too close, the artillery isn't all that careful where they fire.'
'Yes, Grandpa!'

With a groan Lavi pushed himself away from the table and stood up on his wobbly left foot, hating the fact that he couldn't walk to the bedroom properly on his own, and laid his right hand on the back of the nearest chair, which felt softer than the rest. Curiously, even though sitting again was awkward and required him to hobble without the use of his right leg, he relocated to the chair, running curious fingers down the fabric to the end of it. All the while little bits of conversation leaked into his mind, pointless, none of them as understandable as the ones that had come before, until he found a line of buttons and, from there, the collar of a shirt. Lavi pulled it up to his face and, before he knew what he was doing, smelled it to find out whom it belonged to.

Tyki. It smelled just like him, if a little dusty and sweaty. The fabric was soft, though thick, and the touch of it against Lavi's cheeks reminded him of the bruises that had healed on his cheek bones, the swelling that had gone down in his lips. It didn't hurt to bury his face in the material and breathe in, drowning his thoughts in the knowledge that this was something solid, someone he knew, a memory he could cling to no matter the circumstances. Tyki, for some reason, didn't have a voice like the others did.

A little smile lifted his lips. He liked Tyki, too, that most likely helped a little. The others… he couldn't care if he couldn't remember.

"I didn't realize you liked me that much."

"Ah!" Lavi kicked himself back into the table with his left foot – hard – and winced as the contact of his spine on the wood, more painful than he would have anticipated. Tyki's voice wasn't two feet in front of him and he hadn't even heard a foot fall, or the door open, but now the crinkling of a paper bag filled his ears. He felt himself blushing. He also felt the shirt still fisted in his hand. "It's not what you think it is!" Lavi protested, holding the garment at arms length. "I went to the bathroom and I was tired, so I sat down and this was on the back of the chair. I… didn't know if it was mine or what so I just—!" He stopped at the sudden press of a weight on his head, pushing his hair over his eyes. It horrified him, for some reason, the same as it made him smile.

Tyki chuckled, holding the bag in one hand, his other petting Lavi as if he were nothing but a house pet in need of affection. "You kissed me once already, you don't have to defend the act of smelling my shirt when you're alone."

"Tyki, that wasn't—"

"Hungry?" The older man went on, removing his hand as he walked to what had to be the counter. Lavi listened as he put the bag down four steps away, heard the crinkle of paper as the older man began to empty it onto the counter.

Lavi felt him wander by on the way to a cabinet and took a moment to wonder what kind of theme the room had, it sounded like wood, but the floor felt like tile. "Maybe. Why? Did you buy a cookbook?"

Tyki snorted. "No, but anyone can make salad. Do you like salad?"

"No idea."

"I suppose we'll have to see." The larger man stopped with the paper sack and came back in front of the redhead, the breeze from his movement warning the apprentice Bookman of his approach. Before Tyki could reach for him, however, Lavi touched his hip, and from there his lower left arm, pulling him gently closer. The Noah let himself be brought close without protest, though he walked reluctantly at the fingers that paused in his elbow and slowly, brought his forearm against the boy's forehead. "Lavi?" He questioned, very softly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"My eyes hurt." Lavi answered steadily, fingers curled tightly. "But I mostly wanted to ask you something."

A hand ran through Lavi's hair and he relaxed into it, sighing out his insecurities.

"What is it?" Tyki asked almost at once, a note of something like expectancy in his voice.

"What are Bookmen?"

-- -- --

TBC? You like?

Anyone noticed the title theme?

Reviews are love!