If I owned DGM, there would be whole episodes dedicated to a shirtless Kanda doing sexy hair flips.
Got Own?
Bruise
Chapter 7: Walls
It started the first time I saw him. Of course, I had the order to kill him, because the Gatekeeper was too stupid to distinguish a human from an akuma, so it was a miracle that he didn't get Mugen through his skull.
He continuously drove me crazy with his fake politeness, and the fact that he could drive me crazy at all. When he wouldn't leave Toma to die during the mission in Mater, I wanted to yell at him for being stupid. I mean, I did when he tried to step in as the "sacrifice", as he called it, for Lala and Guzol, but that wasn't what set me off.
He cared too much. Why did he have to be that way? I don't know, but it makes me want to hurl when I think about it. Exorcists are destroyers, and yet, he still said that even so, he wanted to save. Save what? We're in a war! People are going to die, and it's better if you cut off all the ties. That's what I did, and it's worked up until now.
Then why is it that when I spare with him, I want to let him win? He may act like he's happy, but I can see that it's fake, and part of me wants to give him a victory of some sort. I never let him win though, because I'm not going to let my name be soiled by allowing a moyashi like him pin me down.
Why is it that when he smiles, I find myself getting aggravated, because I can see that it's fabricated? But then there are those times, like the night he woke up crying from a nightmare and I held his hand, that I see the real, beautiful smile that could make an angel look ugly. He's strikingly gorgeous on those rare occasions when he just beams with happiness, and even if I've had a bad day, I feel my cold heart warm slightly.
Why is it that every time my name leaves his lips, my heart skips a beat? When he's hurt and asking for help, he weakly murmurs "Kanda" and I feel my heart clenching in agony, because I can't stand to see him in such a pitiful state. When he's mad, his cheeks get red with anger, and he says that one word before telling me why I'm wrong. That's when I feel like bowing and asking forgiveness, but I've decided to make him mad just to see the cute face he has as he growls.
Why is it that when I watch him sleeping on the train with his eyes closed and the look of pure, unadulterated innocence gracing his features, I want to reach across the compartment and stroke his cheek, watching the smallest grin cover his face as he leans into the touch, and I pray that he won't wake up?
Why was it that when Lavi came into the cafeteria that morning three months ago and asked my Moyashi to go out with him, I felt anger and jealousy surge through me, and I wanted to punch the Baka Usagi's lights out when the whitette smiled and accepted? After that, I remember going and training for hours, imagining Lavi's face on the bag I was punching with my bare fists until I felt something break, but I continued, even as the pain rushed through me every time I moved the broken hand.
Why is it that I only ask him to spare with me just so I could be with him, and feel my heart flutter when he complimented a move I did? And if he ever told me I could touch-up on something, I would practice whatever it was for hours on end, sometimes through the night and to whenever the sun peeked over the distant mountains, until I was absolutely was flawless in the movement.
And why is it that when I walked out of the bathroom naked save for a towel, I smirked as I heard him squeak and bring the blankets over his face, and I could guess what his epiphany was though I never voiced it.
Why is it that when I was told that he was dead, I felt such overwhelming hatred rise in my chest, and I fought Tyki Mikk with revenge in mind? And I saw a form through the fog, but when I attacked it, I found him, and all I could stutter out was "M-moyashi".
Why is it that when he tried to stay in Skinn Bolic's room with me to fight, I couldn't stand the thought of him getting killed and did everything to make sure he left with the others? I shouldn't have cared that much. It shouldn't have mattered to me whether or not he got hurt, but I did regardless.
When I see him with Lavi, I get so mad and frustrated watching him laugh and have fun with his boyfriend, and I wish that that was me instead, because to me, all I can do is make him cry or get angry. I've wondered what I can possibly do to make him smile like that, to make him want to be beside me instead of that rabbit.
That day I went off on him for nothing in the cafeteria, and he slapped me before running out with tears in his liquid mercury eyes, I felt like chasing after him and apologizing on my knees, but my pride wouldn't let me do that. What my pride did let me do however was curse at Lavi and punch him out of his chair when he had said, "Why must he be so pathetic and weak?"
When I went to tell him about our mission to Rhone and saw the fear spark in his eyes at the mention of Lavi's name, I knew that there was something wrong with my Moyashi. He hadn't always wore turtlenecks nonstop and been covered in bruises. He hadn't always listened to depressing music and limped around because he'd been ripped by a little rough sex. He hadn't always been numb.
But when he told me about it and brought up my sex life, I felt the jealousy heat up inside me, and I told him about all the girls I'd slept with. What I didn't mention was the fact that the only reason I'd done it was to try and forget about him, but I still couldn't do it, because while I was having sex with the girls, I had to imagine white hair and chrome eyes to get off.
The way he tried to hide while tears ran down his face when he'd woken up from his nightmare and told his pillow that he wasn't stupid made me want to comfort him, to love him for once. I'll never forget the way his skin had felt under my fingers, smooth, delicate, and wet, and I remember wondering if his lips felt the same way, or if they were rough instead of mellifluous. His hair was like silk sliding through my fingertips, and I wanted to bring them to my lips to kiss them softly. What did his tears taste like? Were they salty? Or were they dulcet and sweet like he was underneath his fake mask?
It took my breath away to watch him whimper quietly for me to continue the contact, and it didn't take very long for him to fall sleep, so he didn't notice when he whined and moved closer to me, pressing his face into my chest. I didn't have an issue with this, but when I held him in my arms, I knew I wouldn't sleep anymore that night. Part of me wanted him to wake up and nuzzle closer to me. The other, saner part of me wanted him to stay asleep forever as I stroked his hair and kissed his eyes feather-lightly.
When the sun rose, I released the boy, but he whimpered instantly, reaching out for whatever had been holding him, and I had to replace my body with his pillow. After that, I meditated until I heard him stir from his sleep a few hours later, but I couldn't clear my mind like I normally could. I wanted so badly to hold him in my arms again and feel his chest rise and fall evenly against mine.
When he asked me about it later, all I could say was to forget about it, but he wouldn't let that go. I had him pinned to a tree, fighting the urge to kiss him with everything I had, and I felt my eyes widen when his eyes shimmered and began pouring tears. He wouldn't let me touch him when I'd reached out, but I hated to see him this way, and I'd pulled him to me. The way he'd clutched my jacket like his life depended on it and begged me not to leave him when he'd told me that he hated feeling trapped made me feel like I was important to him.
But I had to be a jerk after that of course. I can remember the look on his face when I had told him what I would tell Lavi, and the blush that I didn't think he knew he had was as dark as ever, but I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. Probably a mixture of both.
When we got to the waterfall, I knew that it was weird that he wasn't complaining about his stomach, even though I know he ate more than normal, and when I asked about it, I couldn't believe how aggravated he got. He knew that I wasn't acting right anymore, and it drove me crazy. It drove me crazy that when I was about to cuss out that Nala chick that all he had to do was tell me to "save the conniption" and that I needed to go back to the waterfall. At the request, the only rebellion I could pull was going to the inn instead, but it still irritated me that I couldn't get angry when he told me to do something.
I've noticed―and he has, too―that I stare at him a lot now. His hair is so pure and white, and it reminds me of snow. Even if he's sixteen, I still think that he looks more beautiful with ivory hair than he ever could've with brown hair, and it's soft and silky, almost like what I imagine a cloud would feel like.
His eyes are liquid chromium, the silver more reflective than a mirror, and I don't understand why he never betrays his feelings through the orbs. When I look in his eyes, all I see are my own emotions shining back at me, but I used to be able to sense his feelings through the mercury pools. It frustrates me that the only way I can tell what he's feeling is if he tells me, but that seems to be happening more and more lately, even though it partially is lies.
His skin is pale and radiant, always glowing when he smiles, and it feels like solid honey, soft and smooth. It's awful to see violet blemish his skin, but I like that he doesn't mind if I see it, and he's okay with me seeing him breakdown.
So when he lied beside me and pulled on my shirt, saying he was scared of the nightmares, and then asked if I would hold him, I was stunned momentarily.
"Please, Kanda?" he asked quietly, looking sideways at the mattress in embarrassment, and he flushed strawberry. Calming my heart rate, I ask, "Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'?" he mutters. "I said I was scared!"
Reaching across the space between us, I stroke his face lightly, running my thumb under his cursed eye, "Why are you asking me? Other than there's no one else here."
His blush darkens as he moves over to me, clutching my t-shirt and nuzzling into my chest while I stay slightly shocked, and he whispers, "I feel safe with you."
Relaxing, I wrap my arms around him like I had the night before, quietly murmuring, "What about Lavi?"
"He doesn't hold me like you do."
"How do I hold you?"
He stayed silent for a moment, and he was so close to me that I could feel his heart beat faster as he replied, "Like you care about me."
At the words, I freeze, but then he continues, "I know that you hate me, but when I'm with you…I don't know. I feel like a matter."
"Why don't you feel like that any other time?" I ask, running my fingers through his hair lightly, and I gently tug out any knots I find. He doesn't reply, and after a few minutes, I say, "Moyashi."
"It's Allen," he says instinctually before falling into silence again. Getting irritated, I roll over on top of him, supporting myself on my elbows on either side of his head, and I see the tiny flicker of fear in his chromium eyes. Staring down at him, I say, "Don't you dare start crying."
Glancing away, he stares at my arm and whispers, "I can't help it."
"You aren't trapped. I know that you are strong enough to push me off of you right now."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. Who are you scared of?"
His tears that had been silently slipping down his cheeks stopped, but he didn't look at me, just my arm. He wouldn't say anything, but after a while, I noticed that he was trembling, like seriously trembling. If I didn't know better, I would have thought the bed was vibrating, because I mean, it takes talent to shake like that.
Quietly, I move back to lie beside him, pulling him closer with a hand on his hip, but when he winces, I jerk my hand back, worried that I had hurt him. Sniffling, he scoots towards me, curling up with his head resting on my shoulder, and he whispers, "Thank you, Kanda."
My heart fluttered momentarily when my name slipped past his lips, and I watched his eyes close slowly, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. Silently, I gazed at the angel boy in my arms, his halo resting in the sheen on his head from the moon, and his small hands clasp my shirt. He smelled faintly of lavender and jasmine, and I couldn't but think, That's such a girly scent. It fit him though. I could imagine him lying all splayed out in a patch of the purple flowers, his hair fanning out around him while he stared up at the sky.
And as I lightly brushed my lips across his nose, I know what's happened. It was so obvious, but it wasn't until now that I noticed, and that slightly aggravated me, just not as much as the actual problem. Years had my heart been cold and dead, but this boy had come and I fell. I fell and landed so hard that everything broke. The walls around my emotions had crumbled.
And they crumbled because of Allen Walker.
Author Note: Okay, a friend asked me to do this chapter, so I hope she's happy with it. Please tell me what you think, and please, Please, PLEASE R/R!