Chapter 1.

March 11th 1984.

Sunday.

"Slow ride! Take it easy!" The white-haired teenager danced to the closet hidden beside the back door of his house then threw in the box that was in his hands. He huffed and moved the wayward white bangs from his eyes. Going into his house again to get another box, he danced and sang all the while.

"Slow ride…Take it easy! I'm in the mood…
The rhythm is right…!
Move to the music! We can roll all night!" He sang with the record.

A record belonging to the band called: "Foghat" And the song that he was currently singing was called: "Slow Ride" It came blasting through the record player, which is now sitting on the floor in his tiny empty living room and so far, that was the only thing residing inside that room. A record player and his collection of records and 8-tracks.

Going back to the task at hand, he picked up yet another box and read HIS name on the box held in his hands, still singing under his breath, he immediately frowned upon reading the name. His foster father, Cross Marian, who's name was scribbled in a half-assed manner in black marker on the top of the box, was an absolute prick.

He scowled and growled lowly inside his throat. Feeling disgusted at the man's mere hand written and name, he muttered disdainfully. "You left me again, you arse," As he cursed the box, then threw inside the closet slammed the door shut, before the contents inside had time to topple over and fall on him.

The teen sighed heavily, before he raced back into the living room to go over towards his record player and switch it off.

The record slowed to an eerie, slow-motion pace, before it finally stopped altogether.

"I need to get money and quick, or I'll starve tomorrow." The teen stated, his English accent thick on his tongue as he rubbed his empty stomach, frowning sadly.

He looked to the Roman numeral clock that hung above his head with a bright smile.

"It's only 5:00 o'clock-ish…" He looked to the round open and curtain-less window and nodded his head in approval.

The sun hasn't fully set yet either. He then ran back to the other closet, which wasn't much of a closet at all, rather it was a small laundry room, which then lead to the back door of the house.

He dashed across the cold tiled floor of the laundry room to get to the coat-rack located where the dryer used to be and pulled his black and ripped and completely faded jacket off the hanger, he grabbed his gloves and also his gray bandana; to cover his white-head and once fully dressed in his winter attire, he walked across the laundry room and up the three small steps that lead back into the kitchen.

"I'll be back Tim!" He hollered over to the small orange kitten, who's sleeping inside its small hand-made-bed as the white-haired teen walked to the front door of his house.

"Meowf," The kitten replied with a yawn.

He couldn't help but grin at his adorable kitten as he walked out the front door of his house, turning around to shove the key into it's slot and double-checking the door knob to make sure that the house was fully secure, he turned right around and walked down four of the creaky porch steps.

Stuffing both of his hands inside his jacket pockets, he carried on his way down the stone walkway through the yard, once he made it past the tall grass of the lawn, he pushed open the black rusted gate on the other side and soon made a face at the sharp squealing sound as he closed the gate behind him.

"Geez…Is everything so bloody noisy around this house?" He complained aloud as he glanced over his shoulder at his one-story, pealing paint, trailer-trash looking, dump of a house.

That he just recently moved into three days ago.

And for the past three days that he stayed alone inside that place, he's come to notice three things about it:

One: It gets cold at night, like, deathly-cold. The type of cold where he couldn't, for the life of him, get warm, no matter how much blankets he piles on top of himself (and his cat, who chooses to curl up with him on during those cold nights) and it doesn't matter if he wore thick socks and long sleeved shirts to bed. With the heater busted and beyond repair, he would have to suffer through the cold nights until Summer begins with it's disgusting heat.

Two: The house resembled the look of a trailer; long it length with only had one bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen he can barely move around in, a tiny room to do laundry in, but with both the washer and dryer missing it would prove to be a waste of space. The house had some charm; it had a roomy living room, which could able to fit an entire family in and it had a large floor expanse—and yet everything squeaked and squealed as though it was centuries old.

And lastly...

Three: It had a crap-load of windows, so privacy wasn't really on top of the list of what the last owners of the house was looking for.

Turning away with a sad shake of his head, directed at the dump that he was now calling "his home", he hummed a song that was playing inside his head as he sauntered down the sidewalk of the neighborhood, passing by a parked car in the driveway just beside his own home, he had to gave it a nod of approval.

It was a Thunderbird, black tinted windows with a beautiful body of black paint. Black on black was classy.

At least he thought so...

"Nice ride." The 15-year-old complimented, small smirk on his pale featured face.

He doesn't know much about cars, but this particular one he knew the name to. For his foster father Cross made (read: "forced") him to remember the name of the car, simply because Cross himself owned a Thunderbird.

"Why am I thinking about that prick all of a sudden?" He muttered under his breath as he quickly shook his head to rid himself of the man plaguing his thoughts. Kicking a stone from the sidewalk, he carried on with his expedition to find grocery money.

Counting the money he now held within his gloved-hands, the white-haired teen felt a devious smile stretching across his face.

"That wasn't so hard…" He stated, in feigned innocence.

"Feigned" because the evil grin was still plastered across his face.

Two hours ago, he had managed to find a small house further in the "Bad" part of the neighbourhood—a neighbourhood which he himself now lived close to—and found a poker game (or two) that the "friendly" neighbours were hosting.

He, of course, didn't let anyone find out that he had cheated in several of their poker games.

And the cards safely hidden in the sleeves of his jacket could prove this theory.

Beforehand, he had stashed them in there and now that he was a safe distance away from the neighbourhood he had cheated, he pulled them out inconspicuously and shoved them in the breast pocket of his jacket.

He felt…relieved that he wouldn't have to do that again, at least not until times got really bad.

Although, he really did find it funny when the adults were so arrogant and naive as to believe the younger crowd, who wanted to join in their poker games, were nothing more than children with no experience.

Smirking at being able to fool the adults, he pulled the hood resting against the back of his neck, higher above his head in order to cover-up and conceal his snow white hair, pulling at the dark gray bandana more comfortably on top of his head, he continued walking back to his house.

Looking both ways at the intersection of the street that he had walked across earlier that evening, he cocked his hip to the side and rests it against the streetlight beside him as he waited for several cars to pass by.

Whistling to himself as he looked beside him, he did a double take to the sign beside his head.

"What the…" He peered closer at the advertisement, then gasped loudly as he read it over a second time.

"Singer wanted—Must know how to sing, if you can play an instrument your always welcomed to jam with us. But if you can't sing then don't EVEN BOTHER to show up. The address is at the bottom. Come and audition. Doesn't hurt to try right?

Address: Volker Lane. 2nd Avenue East.

House Number: 621."

"Doesn't hurt to try…" He repeated the last sentence of the ad and smiled in excitement as he ripped the advertisement off the streetlight, stuffing it quickly into his jacket pocket he carried on his way across the street, this time with a jovial skip in his step.

He lived not too far from the address that was depicted on the ad, not only was there that reason, but he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this; for as long as he can remember.

Ever since he first learned his favorite songs on his synthesizer and also taught himself how to keep a rhythm.

If they like me, they like me…If they don't…Then that's their problem. He thought indefinitely as he brought his head up high in confidence.

But then his shoulders began to shrink in on himself. And if they really don't like me, and think my choice in music is crap…Then I should just give up. He thought, sighing in self-doubt.

Walking down the familiar street that he now recognized himself with, he glanced over his shoulder towards a beat-up and chipped paint house.

Now that house is clearly older than mine. Allen noted in his head with a small smile.

And just as he walked by the gate of the house, bass was suddenly heard pumping from within the house, causing the younger teen to jump at the sudden boom of music streaming from within.

He looked back towards the house as soon as he heard yelling, mixed-in with the music.

"I should go…This might be some gangster's house." He whispered to himself, taking one last glance at the house before he turned back down the sidewalk.

"Hello!" Greeted—but practically yelled—an exuberant voice behind him.

The younger teen jumped (again) but this time with a loud yelp flying past his lips; quickly spinning around to face the person that yelled loudly to get his attention, he's faced with a taller—and much older looking—teenager, who is now standing just behind the old fence belonging to the "gangster" house.

The first thing he noticed about the teenager was one: the guy had seriously bright and vibrant red-hair. Secondly: The guy had a black eye-patch covering his right eye and lastly: He had a shimmering emerald color in the eye that wasn't covered.

Also, how the bloody hell did he get there so fast? The teen thought with a terrified looking smile stretching nervously across his face.

"Yo!" The red-head greeted with a grin as he saluted the terrified looking teen with two fingers held up to his bandana-covered-forehead. "You look kinda lost kid," The red-head stated calmly as he hooked his thumbs in his faded black jean pockets, his red-head tilted to the side in curosity.

The white-haired teen looked behind him, where he knew his house was located. Which was further down the street with five more blocks to go, passing by an abandoned roller disco place—if his memory served him right—and he would be home.

He was so close...And yet...

Looking back to the grinning red-head nervously, he scratched his cheek with a gloved-fingertip. "I u-uh…I'm not lost at all…" The teenager admitted sheepishly as he felt his heart begin to race.

He just got the bejesus scared out of him a second ago, how can the guy stand in front of him and just smile calmly after that?

The red-head barked with laughter and clutched his knees for support.

The younger teen looked around anxiously, he was beginning to wonder if the guy in front of him really wasn't "all there" as he gave him credit for.

"L-look…Kid—" The red-head started to say, his body still shaking with laughter.

"—my name is Allen," The younger teen hastily corrected. Hating the fact that this guy, who wasn't that much older than himself, was calling him a "kid".

I'm not really sure if I should go around and be casually giving my name to complete strangers. Even if he this guy is being friendly now, doesn't mean that he might not turn out to be a creep in the end. Allen thought, mentally scolding himself.

The red-head smirked at that bit of information and nodded his head. "Alright then, Allen." He said, testing the name on his tongue with a grin as he pointed to the house behind them. "I just saw you pass by my place, like, twice already. I just thought you were lost." He stated casually with a shrug of his shoulders.

But then he blinked his eye and tilted his head in curiosity. "You seem new actually..." The red-head slowly trailed off as he peered down at the younger teen, his single green eye narrowing as he scrutinized the fidgeting boy. "I would totally remember a white-haired teenager walk around this bunk-ass town for a while now." The one-eyed teenager claimed with a smirk.

With his eyes widening in realization at the fact that his dark gray bandana—which was once wrapped securely around his head—now nowhere to be seen around him, Allen bagan to stammer nervously.

"I-I just recently m-moved here…" Allen couldn't help but frown at his recently developed stuttering problem. Planting a fake smile on his face, he looked back to the red-head. "Well…I should be heading back now, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr...?" Allen trailed off, realizing that the guy in front of him never mentioned his name.

And another thing crossed his mind.

Why am I being so darn formal with this stranger? He thought in confusion as he began taking several small steps away from the red-head in front of him.

Once the red-haired teenager realized that he was starting to scare the kid in front of him with his over-friendliness, he quickly waved his hands around him. "W-wait! No! I'm no rapist or some creep lingering in the shadows stalking the shit outta you dude!" The red-head quickly tried to appease the white-haired kid's growing suspicion of him with a small smile as his held his hands up in a placating manner.

As if those words would stop Allen from thinking otherwise.

But right when Allen was about to voice this; he found that his boots were firmly locked into place instead, when the red-haired youth started leaning against the fence in front of him as he gestured to himself with a graceful wave of his hand, a handsome smile gracing his features and a playful dip of his head.

Allen refused to move another inch.

"My name is Lavi, by the way." The red-head introduced himself casually, chuckling to himself when he noticed that the teenager stopped retreating backwards.

Allen noted that this Lavi person giggled a lot more than actual laughing, he swiftly snapped out of his thoughts as he nodded his head with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lavi." He replied graciously, still a bit wary of Lavi, but after many years of getting smacked up-side the head every time he said something even remotely disrespectful, he kept his manners in-check.

Still keeping the phony smile plastered on his face, Allen soon stated. "Because, for a moment or two, I was beginning to think that you were actually were a crazy stalker." He replied in all honesty, with an innocent tilt of his head and a wide grin.

And with the hurt look now seen on Lavi's expression, Allen couldn't help but laugh quietly into his gloved hand.

Composing himself, Allen held his head higher; confidence now pouring out of his body language. "My name is Allen, Allen Walker." He held his hand out in greeting.

The red-head named Lavi, glanced down at Allen's extended hand, then looked back up at Allen with a grin. "You're British huh?" He stated slyly.

Allen blinked, out of surprise. "Yes...I am. But I guess it really isn't that hard to notice, huh?" He chuckled quietly, suddenly feeling shy.

"You're fucking dope kid!" Lavi soon announced, grinning happily as he took Allen's smaller hand in his and swiftly began shaking it. "This is totally my first time meeting a Brit! Say something in that clutch accent of yours!" He stated excitedly as he continued to shake the hand offered out to him.

What are you on? Drugs? Allen thought dubiously.

But he soon found himself actually replying. "U-uh…Jolly good…Mate…?" Allen slowly pronounced, uncertainty clear in his tone as he continued to smile as brightly.

Trying hard to hide his discomfort and embarrassment at having to say something completely stereotypical.

But when Lavi grinned widely and clapped his hands together—after he was finally done shaking his hand that is, Allen couldn't help but smile bashfully as he looked away from Lavi.

"Fucking clutch accent man! I wish I was British!" Lavi enthused aloud with a bright smile, which soon ended in a small pout. "But sadly, I am not." He muttered in disdain.

Allen wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation at the Lavi's ever-changing attitude but instead, he found himself laughing in amusement at the red-head instead.

Pointing behind him, Allen found that the phony smile soon turned out to be sincere. "I should go now, though," He announced with a small smile. "I still got a lot of un-packing to do and a house to clean. Oh! And thank you for the compliment, Lavi." Allen thanked whole-heartedly with a single nod of his white head as he laced his hands behind his back.

Lavi gave a peace sign with his fingers and a smirk. "No prob, like, fer cereal, Al." He purred with a wink (or was it a blink?) of his eye before he waved and turned around. "I gotta bounce too kid! But I'll catch ya later!" He hollered over his shoulder as he took long legged strides down the yard's walkway and back to the ragged old looking house.

Which continued to blast loud music from within.

Allen waved after him and before the door had time to close, he called after the teen. "Alright! Cheers Lavi!" He stated happily with a grin.

Quickly turning around, Lavi pointed straight at Allen with a toothy grin. "I love your accent dude!" With one last energetic wave, the weird red-head disappeared into his house.

He's an odd one…Just met him yet, he seems like a really brill guy. Allen thought with a small smile as he turned back around and started walking back to his place.

I'm going back and correcting some past grammatical errors and mistakes I have recently noticed I've made in previous chapters. (oops teehee)

Also, yeah I will be updating this story, but FIRST I want to re-re-recorrect the past chapters before I get started on the new chapters! Because it's bugging the crap outta me and I can't take it anymore! So yeah...

A Thank You to EVERYONE who gave this story love and a big THANK YOU to those that keep me going by sending those lovely encouraging reviews! Seriously, you guys are the best! I still hope you're all still with this story of mine...

OH! I would also like to say...

I'm NOT changing EVERYTHING within the chapters, things will still stay the same, but you will probably notice the DGM crew saying and doing a lot more things that they weren't doing before in the story. I just wanted some more dialogue and interaction going on. So far, I'm just correcting some mistakes :) so no big change is going to happen.

-Hella