Rebirth By Rain

Disclaimer: Do I own DGM? Is the sun hot pink? Does Santa really exist? (Sorry kiddos, the sound of your dreams shattering is music to my ears)

Kanda Yuu knew he was an individual who suffered from a lack of good luck. So when he realized he had gone all day managing to avoid his boisterous foster family, he had the sinking feeling that something was going to go wrong any minute now. Such a positive occurrence surely wouldn't last long. His suspicions proved themselves correct when he decided to chance leaving his bedroom to get a drink of water. He had just opened the kitchen cupboard to grab a glass when he heard footsteps behind him and the sound of the old man clearing his throat.

"Kanda? Can I talk to you?" Tiedoll asked gently.

"What? I'm busy." Kanda ground out, jamming his glass harder than necessary into the water dispenser on the freezer door. Tiedoll was by no means unused to his foster son's brusque attitude, and was undaunted.

"I'd just noticed…well, is something the matter? You've been more rambunctious than usual lately."

"I haven't been 'rambunctious'," Kanda said, sneering at the childish description, "and anyway, mind your own business."

Tiedoll frowned as he watched Kanda drink. "I want you to feel comfortable expressing yourself more. It's not healthy to keep things bottled up inside."

"Talking doesn't solve anything." Kanda said shortly, looking away from the frazzled, slightly unkempt looking man.

"So something is bothering you." Tiedoll leapt on Kanda's slip up.

Cursing internally, Kanda slammed the now empty glass on the counter. "I don't have a fucking problem and it's none of your fucking business."

"But Yuu—"

"Don't call me that!" The Japanese man stormed out of the room, ignoring Tiedoll's protests. It seemed the man still had some good sense left in that daft head of his, because he didn't attempt to follow Kanda further than the kitchen archway. He'd been trying to avoid seeing any of his family so they wouldn't aggravate his already poor mood, but that hadn't exactly worked out as he planned. Deciding that he wanted to do something other than sit in his room and simmer in his irritation, Kanda made a quick detour to his room to grab his sword Mugen, and then headed to the studio so he could vent the need to bash someone's face in. Quickly falling into the familiar movements of slashing the sword through the air, he tried to clear his mind to achieve the usual calm that he associated with the exercise. Listening to the tapping sound indicative of the rainstorm outside, he went through the familiar steps, trying to bury himself in the rhythm of his movements. It worked to a certain extent, but after his second misstep, he knew he needed something else.

After returning Mugen reverently to his room, he realized that what he really wanted was to simply get out of the house. To hell with the damned weather, there was no way he could stand to be in the same house as Daisya or Chaoji anymore. The old windbag definitely hadn't helped things either. Marie, who usually exerted a calming influence on the household, was working the night shift at the service center and wouldn't be home for hours. Impatiently, Kanda grabbed his jacket from the coat rack in the entryway and shrugged into it, stuffing his long dark hair under cover before pulling the hood over his head to act as a shield from the rain.

The sound of Daisya's annoyingly high pitched laughter floated from just down the hall, and Kanda paused to determine if one of the annoyances was going to come out and see him about to leave. He heard the continued muffled noises of the television, but sensed no movement. That was just as well. If they knew he was leaving, the old man would make a fuss, worrying about 'poor Yuu' going out in the rain. Like he was some kind of kid that still needed looking after. He was twenty-two, damnit! Not a fucking two year old! Swallowing his irritation, he bent down to put his shoes on.

A familiar and unwelcome feeling that he recognized as jealousy began to surface. No matter how much he tried to deny and repress the feelings, he had recently come to the realization that he was envious of his foster brother, Marie. The man actually had a decent paying job, unlike Kanda, who had just been fired from his second job in five months due to the lousy reign he had on his temper. His lack of income meant that his long-held desire to finally move out wasn't getting any closer to fruition. Thus he was stuck living with his adoptive father Tiedoll and his other charity cases. The younger two of the group, Daisya and Chaoji both seemed to like nothing more than to annoy the piss out of him. It was no wonder he didn't feel capable of relaxing while in house.

He opened the door and shut it quietly behind him, taking off into the dark streets. The rain hit him like a sheet as he left the shelter of the house. For the first time in a long time, he felt compelled to visit that place. After a brief moment of hesitation, he turned right and started off in a measured but swift pace.

Allen Walker cursed himself for the tenth time as he jogged through the pouring rain. The light hoodie he'd put on prior to leaving his apartment was soaked clean through, but that wouldn't stop him from heading towards that place. A compulsion was driving him, and there was no way he could turn back now that he had finally gathered the courage to go at all. The oppressive silence of his apartment was doing horrible things to his mental state and he had come to the conclusion that he wanted to—no, needed to—get out. However, twenty minutes later, the sudden downpour had caught him totally unprepared. The lack of overhanging structures from the tall buildings along the narrow sidewalk resulted in little to no protection from the relentless water.

He tugged at his zipper, hoping to get a little bit more coverage, then stuffed his chilled hands as deep into his hoodie's pockets as they would go. The sidewalks were mostly deserted; the few people he did pass were in just as much of a hurry as he was, similarly victimized by the fast changing weather.

Rounding a corner, Allen's attention was caught by a malfunctioning green neon sign that was blinking on and off at irregular intervals, cutting through the darkness of the cold night. The Black Order Club and Bar was a familiar image for him, even if it had been years since he'd seen it. Cross would drag him inside whenever the man wanted to go but couldn't leave the underage Allen by himself at the apartment. Personally, Allen believed that Cross simply enjoyed tormenting his young charge since he never seemed to have a problem leaving him alone at any other time. But Cross was gone now—he had been for three months, with no word as to where he'd gone or why. This wasn't completely unheard of when it came to the red-haired man, but he usually at least let Allen know when he was leaving. Sure, the man had been a lackluster guardian, but that didn't stop Allen from worrying about him. The womanizing drunkard was the only person he could call family, after he lost Mana—Allen stopped that thought in its tracks, already feeling the deep sadness crawling its way through his chest. Blinking out of his stupor, he realized he had stopped moving and was staring vacantly at the glowing sign. It had only just now occurred to him, but he remembered that a few days ago when he had bumped into Komui, the proprietor of the Black Order, the man had mentioned that they were having a party tonight in order to celebrate his little sister Lenalee's return from studying abroad. He could walk right through the door and join in on the festivities, as well as get out of the rain. Not to mention that it would be nice to actually see the girl after several years of maintaining contact only through countless sporadic e-mails and phone calls. However, even if he didn't already have somewhere else he was heading, he didn't want to impose his gloomy mood on such a happy occasion. Giving himself a mental shake, he promised himself that he would drop by some other time and resumed his jog. It was only a few short minutes later when he came to his destination.

Even in the heavy haze created by the rain, Allen recognized the tall spiraling slide dominating the field, the swing set, the benches, the monkey bars, even the old sycamore with the carvings in its mottled trunk. The playground from some of his earliest memories brought with it a rush of nostalgia. At the same time however, a nagging feeling of discomfort began to grow. After a few more seconds, he managed to place what it was. He had spent so long keeping his memories of this place pristine that it was disconcerting to see that it had so obviously changed. For one, it was shabbier. That much was evident right away. What had once been a well-kept swing set now had two broken seats—one was gone all together. The bright red paint of the large spiral slide was now covered in large graffiti letters. The stone benches had received the same treatment. Weeds had been allowed to crowd out whatever was left of the grass, and large patches of earth were visible. Bushes that had been only a few feet tall the last time he'd seen them were now level with the top of his head, obscuring the rest of the playground from him.

Allen told himself that it really was stupid to expect things to stay exactly the same as they were when he was eleven. It had been eight years, of course things were different. But that didn't stop him from feeling vaguely let down. It was the sycamore that drew his attention now. The tire swing that had once hung from the tree was gone, as was the branch that held it. Other than that, the tree seemed to be much the same. That was a small relief, since it held special meaning as the spot where Mana had first found Allen on that mild day so many years ago. All of a sudden, he found himself torn. He wanted so badly to simply run over to the tree and wish things would go back to the way they used to be. Yes, it was childish, but he couldn't help it. The knowledge that Mana was gone, buried in a cold lonely cemetery, and would never again be able to cheer Allen up, or congratulate him, or play with him, or make him laugh, or tuck him in at night, or tell him he lov-

"God damn son of a bitch!" yelled a man's voice furiously, causing Allen to nearly leap out of his skin. He hesitated at the anger in the voice, but his curiosity won out, and he found himself entering the park's grounds.

Peering around the bushes cautiously, Allen saw a figure near one of the smaller slides pushing itself out of a puddle of mud. From the looks of it, the person had somehow lost their balance and fallen right into a puddle. The person was shaking their arm in an attempt to fling some of the muck off when Allen called out tentatively, "Do you need any help?"

The person froze and looked up slowly. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Affronted by the man's rudeness in the face of the goodwill he'd been shown, Allen sarcastically replied, "Well it just seemed like such a nice day for a walk."

"Che. Idiot." The man seemed to wilt a bit and he slumped down to sit on the edge of the slide, muttering what seemed to be more obscenities under his breath. Allen surveyed the man's wet, dirty form and found himself inexplicably trying to keep up the conversation, when under normal circumstances he would have been content to let the man sulk on his own.

"Who's the idiot, now? I'm not the one covered in mud and sitting in the rain." Allen called over the sound of the water slamming the ground as he began to pick his way across the muddy field. Stepping over a soggy newspaper, he mused on how his initial expectations for how the evening was going to play out were drastically different than this.

"You're out in the rain too." the man grumpily pointed out, not looking Allen's way.

"Not for much longer. Come on."

Since the man wasn't watching Allen, he hadn't seen his approach. He finally turned toward Allen and squinted through the rain pelting his face. The man had distinctly Asian features, with sharp dark eyes and an angular face. He was fairly young looking, possibly early twenties?

"You honestly expect me to go somewhere with some guy I don't even know?" he asked, incredulity clear in his expression and voice.

"If you want to get out of the rain," Allen shrugged, still wondering why on earth he was talking to the sour man. When he received no answer, Allen huffed. "Fine. Sit there and turn into a prune. I'm going to go where there's shelter. You're welcome to change your mind." He stalked off, feeling a little upset that his attempts to be kind had been rebuffed so rudely. Setting his mind to getting out of the rain, Allen wandered to toward one of the park entrances, where he vaguely remembered there being a bus stop. He hoped that he wasn't unfortunate enough that the shelter was no longer there; otherwise this was going to be one of the worst nights he'd had in years.

Kanda watched as the strange man gave the large tree a wide berth, and head toward a sheltered bus stop bench overlooking the park. Before he was even aware of making the decision, he was on his feet and following the smaller, hooded figure. He had to grudgingly admit to himself that getting out of the rain was an inviting prospect. Despite the fact that he'd come here to be alone, and this guy was intruding on the relative silence of the night, following him seemed better than sitting on that damn slide. It was bad enough that the stranger had witnessed Kanda's embarrassing fall—which wouldn't have happened at all if he had only ignored that stupid whim of his. He'd been trying to climb up to the top of the small slide, remembering that it had been where Alma would always be waiting for him every time they met up here, when he lost his footing due to the mud stuck to the soles of his shoes. It was what he got for doing stupid sentimental shit. Why had he even decided to come here again? Maybe he should just go back home. Home...where Tiedoll would be waiting to attempt and pry his 'feelings' out of him. Pushing the thought back with a scowl, he concentrated on following the person.

The stranger sat down and saw that Kanda had followed him. At the relatively little distance between them now, Kanda was able to see the person smile with what, oddly enough, seemed like relief. Taking a closer look at the person, Kanda blinked, his step faltering. No, he was just imagining things. He only imagined the resemblance because he'd just been thinking about Alma. Giving himself a mental shake, he suddenly felt the need to say something to the person as he sat down on the opposite end of the bench.

"Don't think I'm going to thank you for anything." he said shortly. The stranger showed no reaction to his blunt statement.

"I wasn't expecting it, but you don't have to be such a jerk," he said, fixing Kanda with a pair of large silvery eyes. Kanda noted with surprise that the person was younger than he'd assumed. Perhaps seventeen? He had fine features, with pale skin turned paler from the cold. A dark red scar marred the left side of his face, stretching jaggedly from a pentacle on his forehead down the middle of his cheek. "I'm Allen, by the way," he said, cutting into Kanda's ruminations. He must have had a confused look on his face, because Allen offered as an explanation, "It seems like we might be stuck here for a while, at least until the rain lets up a bit, so we might as well be on a first-name basis."

Allen watched him expectantly and he figured there wasn't much harm in just giving his name.

"Kanda," he grunted.

"Nice to meet you, Kanda." Allen said politely, as if they hadn't been a bit snippy with each other just a minute beforehand. Then he turned away and his drifting gaze focused in the direction of the park.

Considering how forward Allen had been so far, Kanda was fully expecting him to try and strike up a conversation. However, several minutes passed and the other had yet to say anything after their introductions. Kanda told himself firmly that it really wasn't any of his business (hadn't he just been thinking that he wanted to be alone?) and if the guy didn't want to talk, then he had no desire to push the issue. He absently began brushing what he could of the remaining mud off of his clothes and let his mind go blank.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when out of the corner of his eye, he registered movement. Kanda glanced at Allen to see him pull his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. He realized that the other was shivering slightly. That was unsurprising, seeing as how the teen was dressed in a drenched hoodie and jeans. But that observation was pushed aside as he took in the faint smile on Allen's face.

Right away, he was irritated by the expression the younger wore. Why the hell was he smiling when he was fairly obviously miserable? It was so damnably idiotic and fake that Kanda wanted to punch the guy. Reining the impulse in, Kanda told himself that punching every stranger who bugged him was no way to make friends. Not that he was trying to make friends; he just really didn't need another assault charge drawn against him.

This was ridiculous! Kanda clenched his fists. All he had wanted was to get out of the house and get away from everything that was pissing him off. He hadn't come all this way in the rain for some annoying kid in a bad mood to intrude on his peace. Why did today of all days have to be so rotten? Ruthlessly, he pushed aside the knowledge that he would have thought the day was a horrible one even if he'd just won the lottery. Allen was oblivious to Kanda's mood and continued to vacantly stare at the large tree in the park. Overwhelmed by the need to wipe that dumb expression off of the teen's face, Kanda opened his mouth to speak.

"What are you even doing out here anyway?" Kanda snapped out of the blue. With a bit of effort, Allen pulled himself out of the reel of memories playing through his mind. Not sure what he'd done to deserve the renewed antagonism, Allen frowned slightly. He didn't have the energy to fight with Kanda, so he had simply withdrawn into himself and ignored the other man entirely.

"Why do you care?" Allen asked, and then it occurred to him to add, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Maybe I was just wondering if I was sitting with some suicidal freak who was trying to off himself by catching pneumonia," Kanda replied bitingly.

Kanda's remark was ridiculous enough that Allen was goaded into a reply. "It's nothing like that!" It escaped Allen's notice that Kanda hadn't answered for why he was outside.

"Really?" Kanda had a haughty look on his face, daring Allen to prove him otherwise.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I just wanted to visit the freaking park! I've had a generally shitty day, and I wanted to come out here to relax, but that's kind of hard to do when some asshole like you is being a prick for no good reason!" Allen seethed, disregarding Kanda's sudden look of surprise. To his horror, he felt the pinpricks of tears at the corner of his eye and turned away hurriedly. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he fought to keep a hold on his volatile emotions. It did little good. Keeping it all in seemed impossible, especially now that he was here in the park where everything had started. At that moment, Allen suddenly felt the need to unburden himself at least a little bit. The loneliness that had driven him out of his apartment was now propelling him to open up to this total stranger. After all, since Kanda had no connection to him, it would be easier not to be concerned about being judged. Maybe talking to someone would somehow make him feel less burdened?

The lingering anger was extinguished, leaving Allen to feel like he had been splashed with a bucket of ice water. Which, given the state of his clothes, was an apt comparison. His posture slumped, and the arms that had been wound tightly around his legs drooped slightly as he began speaking in a low voice. "I actually do have a reason for being out here specifically." He was going to do it; there was no turning back now. He'd just have to make sure he got it all out before he lost his nerve. Allen took a deep breath. "When I was seven, I ran away from my orphanage during one of the visiting days for a prospective family, and a man named Mana found me under that tree over there." He pointed toward the sycamore. "Almost right away, he offered to be my foster father. I'd never met anyone like him, and we grew to be quite fond of each other. He was homeless, but managed to get by because he worked odd jobs for people around the city. Since he didn't exactly meet the qualifications in a guardian that the state was looking for, he wouldn't have been allowed to adopt me, but that didn't stop him." It occurred to Allen to wonder why the man hadn't interrupted, saying that he didn't care about Allen's life story, but he pressed on without dwelling on the question.

"I stayed with him for five years, and…they were the happiest years of my life. I finally had someone to care about me, and he had someone to keep him company. We eventually saved up enough money to start renting a little apartment, and we were on our way to put down our first deposit…" This was the point where Allen had half expected to be unable to continue speaking, but it seemed now that he'd begun talking, the words came pouring out of his mouth in a rush. He almost couldn't get them out fast enough. "Well, I'd been so excited, and I kept rushing ahead of Mana and just messing around. Then, even to this day, I'm not sure what…it all happened so fast…but the next thing I knew, there was a man who was pointing a knife at Mana, demanding we hand over all of the money we had. He was someone I recognized because I remember Mana had told me before that the man wasn't quite sane, and he was a junkie to boot. I was so scared, but Mana stayed calm. He told me run and get the police. The mugger warned me not to move, but I panicked and ran anyway." Not for the first time, Allen wondered if things would have turned out differently had he not run. Steeling himself, he continued. "By the time anyone found Mana, he was already dead. Stabbed six times. He bled out in a matter of minutes." Allen said, barely registering how dead his voice sounded. "The guy didn't even take the money." He added with a bitter smile.

Kanda was silent. Becoming aware of the fact that he was still cold, Allen squeezed his legs tighter together and tucked his arms closer to his body. The rain had yet to let up even slightly, and the rumbling of thunder filled the air. He watched absently as a street light shorted out in the distance. In the midst of reminiscing, Allen had almost forgotten that the other man was even there, so lost was he in the memory. He felt overly heavy now, but he summoned up the energy to speak again.

"I came here today because it's the anniversary of the day he died."

For the first time since he began, Allen worked up the nerve to actually turn toward his audience. Kanda was looking at the park, a slight frown on his face. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and a part of Allen registered surprise. Judging by the man's behavior, he had figured that Kanda wasn't particularly going to care about his story.

"Why did you tell me all of that?" Kanda asked, subdued.

Allen shrugged. He didn't really know what to say to that since he didn't fully understand why himself. "I don't know. I guess I just thought that maybe talking about it would make me feel better. Does it really matter?"

"Well do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you feel better now that you talked about it?"

Allen started. Since he had expected disinterest from Kanda, both the question itself and the fact that the other had even asked a question in the first place took him by surprise. He looked up towards the sky as he thought over his answer. The feeling of despair was still present, but it was no longer as overwhelming as it had been just a few minutes ago. Maybe just saying it out loud really did have a therapeutic effect. "You know, I think I do. A little bit," He assessed, then turned back to look at Kanda. For some reason, the man was staring at his forehead. Confused, Allen lifted his hand up and felt that the hood covering his head had slipped back a few inches, revealing his pure white hair. Blushing a bit, he pulled the hood back in place and fumbled an explanation. "It turned white after Mana died. I was told it was due to severe stress."

"I didn't ask about it." Kanda crossed his arms and leaned back a bit, looking supremely unconcerned.

"Oh." Allen murmured, finding himself even more off balance. "I suppose you didn't." He absent-mindedly blew a puff of warm air on his hands as he watched Kanda. Did nothing faze this man? The two sat in silence for a few minutes until Kanda let out an aggravated sigh and leaned his head against the side of the bus stop wall.

"Today is actually an anniversary for me too."

Kanda wouldn't admit that he should feel abashed at how he had acted toward Allen earlier, but he at least realized that he had probably overstepped even his boundaries. Granted, he couldn't possibly have known Allen's situation, but he didn't feel so justified in provoking the younger man anymore. Oddly enough, listening to Allen seemed to have been successful in calming both the teen and himself down. For once, he was almost glad that he hadn't gone with his first impulse to try and shut the weirdo up when he had started talking. Distractedly, he mused that Tiedoll would have a field day if he could get Kanda to spill his guts like Allen had done.

The combination of the mood created by Allen's story, as well as the reminder of Tiedoll's suggestion suddenly presented a traitorous desire to his mind. Hadn't it only been an hour ago that he had vehemently refused to do exactly what he was considering now? True, he did feel a certain odd kinship with Allen, but that didn't mean he wanted to get all touchy-feely with his own life story. However, the yearning to share proved too hard to simply forget. That small part of his mind argued that this would be different than talking to Tiedoll, who was likely to smother him with concern and reassurances of love. Allen was a stranger, and would try no such thing. Not to mention that it would be easier to finally talk about this with someone who might be able to understand. Recognizing that he had already convinced himself, Kanda sighed and slumped against the wall. He would give this a try, if only to prove to Tiedoll that talking wasn't going to do anything to help. Though if the damn moyashi uttered one sappy word, he was leaving. Rain be damned.

"Today is actually an anniversary for me too," he began, unsure of where to start. Allen raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He angled his head to look at Kanda and rested his cheek on his knees, waiting for him to continue.

"My best friend growing up was a kid named Alma. I had been in an orphanage for as long as I could remember, and when I was eight he was transferred to live there. I didn't have any friends before meeting him, and I never tried to make any either, but Alma wasn't put off by that. He followed me around until before I knew it, we somehow became friends. Things were fine until we turned twelve. People always liked Alma more than they did me, so it wasn't surprising that he was adopted first. His adoptive parents were biochemists who lived in the city, so they arranged for us to be able to get together with each other every so often. That park is where we would always meet up." Kanda focused his gaze on the park. From where he was sitting, he couldn't see the slide where Alma would wait, but he could imagine it just fine.

"When we were sixteen, we came here to meet like usual. Alma told me that his parents were going to relocate to another country, and that we wouldn't be able to see each other much anymore. Then he said something about me finding new friends so I wouldn't become a loner, and that pissed me off because I didn't need new friends, and from there we started fighting. I punched him and left, telling him I didn't want him to call or write. We fought a lot before, but not like that."

Kanda hunched over in his seat and put his elbows on his legs. The heavy rain had slowed to a light drizzle that was slowly coming to a stop, but the cold seemed even more invasive than before. He could still remember the sad look that he had glimpsed on Alma's face before he turned and ran. His fist burned, as if he had punched him minutes ago rather than years.

"It was a few days before I found out that Alma and his family had been in a car crash. He and his father died instantly, his mother three hours afterward." Kanda felt a headache coming on, and clenched his teeth in annoyance. Did he really need this now? "Today marks six years since they died."

There. He'd finally told someone. It wasn't until he'd said it aloud that he realized he hadn't even been allowing himself to really think about what had happened. He felt trapped by his own regret. He didn't think he'd ever fully escape that, and he didn't know how to feel okay about himself. Alma had been his friend, but he sure hadn't treated him like one. If that was how he treated his friends, then it was no wonder people couldn't stand him. Sure, he didn't care about them anyway, but it would be nice if they didn't act like he was some personified version of the plague.

"You regret running from him more than anything, don't you?" Allen asked softly into the silence that had grown between them. At the teen's words, Kanda felt a splinter of ice twist in his chest. Whenever he reflected back on that day, the one thing that he wished obsessively that he could change was the fact he had run instead of telling Alma the truth. When it came down to it, he just hadn't wanted his only friend to leave him behind. Turning to look at Allen, he saw the almost painful empathy on the other's open face. The intensity behind that silver gaze left him almost afraid and he turned away again, as though he wanted to shield himself from it. He felt cast adrift, with no way to navigate this strange situation. Kanda never talked about anything of real consequence to himself—the last time he had, it was with Alma himself. Was he supposed to say yes? It was true, but the answer stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

The thought suddenly struck him that the reason behind Allen's empathy must have been because the white haired youth felt the same way about his own situation. It would make sense in a twisted way. He did seem like he was the type of person stupid enough to blame himself for something that couldn't possibly have been his fault.

Allen seemed to take his silence as answer enough, and didn't press him to reply to the question. Relieved, Kanda settled back into companionable silence, musing that while he didn't exactly feel better about Alma, he at least felt calmer.

After a while, Allen shifted, and then shifted again and a noticeable tremor went through his body. "Hey Kanda?" When Allen saw that he had his attention, he continued, "Would you like to come over to my place to dry off and get something warm to drink?"

Kanda could only stare at Allen, completely taken off guard by the invitation.

Within seconds, Allen flushed, seeming to realize any number of implications stemming from his question. He held up both hands in distress as he spoke frantically. "Er, I know it must seem weird. I mean, we only just met! And I swear I'm not like, a serial killer, or a rapist, and I'm not going to try anything funny! You don't have to come if you don't want to—what am I saying? Of course you don't have to. I mean, I'm not—I don't—"

"Argh, just shut up already, moyashi!"

Allen silenced himself abruptly, his eyes wide. "Right. Um…sorry about that." He toyed with the hem of his sleeve. "I actually live about twenty-five minutes away if we walk, and we'd risk getting caught in the rain again, so I'd understand if—"

"I live even further away than that, so going to your place sounds fine." Technically, that wasn't true, but he didn't feel like explaining why he didn't want to go back home at the moment.

Allen's startled look echoed Kanda's own hidden disbelief that he had accepted the offer at all.

"R-right." Allen stood up. "I suppose we should get going now in case it starts raining again."

Kanda nodded mutely, and the two set off into the streets.

"So," Allen began as they walked, "you're twenty-two?"

"How did you know that?" Kanda asked suspiciously.

"I did the math in my head," Allen answered easily as he stepped around a large puddle. Kanda made a face. Of course, that much was obvious if he'd just thought about it for a second.

Trying to distract from his own oversight, he asked, "What about you?"

"I'm nineteen."

"Huh. I could have sworn you were 16 at the most."

Apparently this was a sore spot for Allen, because he scowled fiercely and kicked a can as they passed it. It clanged against the side of a building then skittered to a stop a few feet away. "I'm nineteen! Why is that so hard for people to believe?"

Kanda smirked in amusement as Allen continued to scowl quite unthreateningly. He wiped the expression off of his face quickly as Allen turned toward him.

His annoyance was replaced with a thoughtful look as he asked, "On an anniversary like this, why wouldn't you spend it getting drunk or spending time with friends?"

"I do not 'get drunk'. And I don't socialize much." He didn't socialize at all, unless you counted the unwilling interactions with his foster-siblings.

"Oh." An unreadable expression fleetingly crossed Allen's face then he continued, "Before you ask, I don't do stuff like that either. Actually, I quite loathe alcohol."

From there, Allen launched into a story about how he had accidentally eaten chocolates laced with alcohol belonging to his guardian Cross and had gotten sick from them, resulting in him not being able to stand even the smell of the stuff. Sometime in the middle of the man's prattling, Kanda forgot all about wondering why Allen didn't go to his friends with his troubles.

By the time they made it to Allen's apartment, Kanda had learned a multitude of things about his new acquaintance. Such as the fact that he was a part time student studying music, he loved mitarashi dango, he'd only been back in town for about five months, he disliked small dogs, and his favorite color was blue. Kanda thought grumpily that it seemed as if the guy hadn't spoken in years, and now that he had someone to talk to, he just couldn't shut up. He didn't really mind though, because he found that Allen's talking was a welcome distraction.

As they approached his apartment, Allen felt the nervousness that he had managed to shake off earlier begin to return. Sure, he was the one who had originally suggested that Kanda come over, but the man was still basically a stranger to him. Heck, the only thing he had discovered about him during their walk was that the man was a practiced swordsman. That was definitely an unexpected hobby in this day and age. Even that he had admitted almost unwillingly. However, Allen judged that it was due more to Kanda's taciturn nature that he didn't learn much, rather than outright dismissal.

Arriving at the apartment, Allen pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocking and pushing the door open in a fluid motion. He turned the entryway light on and tore his drenched hoodie off with great relief, turning the thermostat up as he passed it. Timcampy chirped a greeting from his perch in the cage nestled in a corner of the living room.

Kanda was looking around uncertainly, curious about his new surroundings. Glad that he had obsessively cleaned the place twice over in his prior mood, Allen offered to take his jacket to put it in the washer. As the man removed the outerwear, Allen had to hastily stop himself from staring at how long his hair was revealed to be. He was fairly sure he'd never seen a man with such long hair before. It was pulled back into a tie, yet the silky looking blue-black tresses still reached his lower back. He mastered the impulse to reach out and feel it, and focused on taking the offered jacket.

"I'm going to go change. You're free to make yourself comfortable," Allen said, pointing at the couch. He went to toss the wet and muddy clothing into the washer, then ducked into his bedroom to change. When he emerged a few minutes later, he had to hold in a chuckle at how uneasy and out of place the stoic man seemed.

"I've got coffee, Earl Grey tea, and hot chocolate. Take your pick," Allen said, checking the cupboards.

"Tea."

Allen nodded and took two of the packets out of the box and put the water in the tea pot, then went to sit in the chair across from Kanda.

"You live alone?" Kanda asked, and Allen could have sworn that he heard envy in the man's voice. He hesitated briefly over what to say.

"Sort of. Up until recently, I lived with my guardian Cross. He's something of an…entrepreneur, and is constantly off on business for long stretches of time. But about three months ago, he left without even telling me why or when he'd be back. I've been working to pay the bills ever since."

"Can't you just call him?" Kanda inquired with a frown. Allen shook his head.

"No. He doesn't keep a regular phone number because he switches phones so often. I tried his last number, but it was already disconnected."

"Sounds pretty shady to me." The Asian man said, leaning back into the couch.

Allen laughed uncomfortably. He had to admit, Cross was a pretty shady character, and he definitely wouldn't appreciate Allen sharing the details of his work with some pretty-boy he'd picked up off the streets.

"He was actually an acquaintance of Mana's, so I feel lucky that he adopted me." Allen itched to steer the conversation away from the waters it had entered.

"The guy still seems like an asshole."

"He kinda is." Allen shrugged with a helpless smile. Fortunately, Kanda seemed to lose interest in the topic and let it drop. The tall man stood up and began to idly explore the apartment. Allen was staring at the hypnotic swaying motions of Kanda's hair across his back when a whistling from the kitchen drew his attention. He jumped up and went to turn the stove off.

When he came back in to the room carrying the two cups, the first thing he noticed was that Kanda's attention was no longer on his decorations. Rather, he was watching Allen intently. Swallowing, he set Kanda's cup down on the coffee table and tried his best to pretend that he hadn't noticed.

Kanda sat back down in front of his tea, but his gaze didn't waver. He seemed conflicted about something, but Allen didn't get a chance to wonder what that might be before the other spoke.

"About Mana," Allen stiffened slightly, already on edge before Kanda had finished his sentence, "do you…feel like he wouldn't have died if you hadn't run away?"

He didn't know what to say. What could he? Kanda had seen right through him and from the deepest recesses of his mind, said aloud the thought that had haunted Allen ever since Mana's murder. The hot tea in his hands trembled, and he set it down shakily. Kanda waited patiently for an answer. Allen licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth, only to close it again.

Finally, he managed a whispered, "Yes."

Allen didn't know what he was expecting Kanda to say, but he certainly wasn't prepared for such an irritated expression to morph his sharp features.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Allen's momentary shock quickly gave way to outrage. He shot forward in his seat and glared at the man across from him.

"How dare you mock me like that? I didn't tell you about him so that you could turn around and make fun of me!" He was starting to think that it would have been better if he had never left his apartment in the first place, never had the stupid idea to try and vent his feelings on a stranger, and especially, had never chosen Kanda as that stranger.

"Don't be stupid. Mana didn't die because of you, and you should know that," Kanda replied, half shouting in exasperation.

"Yes he did! If I hadn't left him then maybe he'd still be alive! I abandoned the only real father I've ever had because I was a coward!" Allen took a shaky breath—his death grip on the arm rests of his seat turning his knuckles white.

"It's cowardly to do what your father asked you to do?" Kanda retorted bitingly. Allen ignored the stupid question.

"What about with you and Alma? Shouldn't you of all people understand what I went through?"

Kanda growled, a glint entering his eyes. "I don't understand because I never blamed myself for his death, just like you shouldn't blame yourself for Mana's! The car crash had nothing to do with me. Sure, I regret to all hell the way Alma and I parted, but I never thought it was my fault!"

Allen brought his hand to his face, covering his scar. He wished he could believe it. He wanted to believe it so badly it hurt.

"Why are you telling me this?" Allen mumbled, sniffing. He was too emotionally ragged to maintain anger for long. His chest ached to the point where he felt a bit like he was going to be sick.

"Because I can't stand people like you who make themselves suffer for no reason," Kanda said, still angry, but no longer shouting.

It was on the tip of Allen's tongue to fire back a nasty response, but instead of saying it, he found himself actually thinking on the implications of Kanda's last remark. Why would Kanda say something like that in the first place? If he'd really wanted to mess with Allen, he could have said any number of much meaner and hurtful things. In spite of this, the only point he had made so far was that Allen should, more or less, stop blaming himself for what had happened to Mana. He was still trying to figure out what to think about this realization when Kanda spoke again.

"Mana probably saved your life by making you run. If that guy was serious enough to kill him, I doubt he would have hesitated to kill you too. It's obvious Mana was trying to keep you safe, so he made the decision to tell you to leave. If he wanted, he could have run with you. Instead, he stayed and gave you the opportunity to get away. He got what he was after, and it's pointless to blame yourself for his choices." Kanda still had a fierce scowl on his face, but it had mellowed somewhat as he attempted to get his point across.

He wanted to ignore Kanda's words. The man had never met Mana, and couldn't possibly know what he was talking about. If he hadn't run, then… he probably would have ended up dead alongside his foster father. But it would be better than living with the knowledge that he had abandoned Mana, right? It took him a moment to figure out why his mind was rebelling against that idea, and when he did, he felt like crying. The look of controlled fear on Mana's face that day hadn't been for himself; his concern had been for Allen, and Allen only. Could Mana really have been content to see Allen escape? Could it possibly be true that his last moments hadn't been filled with despair as his only son abandoned him? Memories of Mana that had for so long been a source of pain and sadness now felt like they were enveloping him with warmth and forgiveness. It was such a seducing feeling that he couldn't block it out or ignore it, even though part of his mind was relentlessly insisting that he shouldn't allow himself to think he was blameless.

A fragile bud of hope had begun to sprout within Allen as Kanda talked. The man's words took root in his mind and whispered their truth, encouraging him to listen. Somehow, for the first time in his life, he was willing. A single night wouldn't be enough to change such a deeply ingrained idea, but maybe he could forgive himself with enough time. Allen found himself looking at Kanda in a new light—this stranger who was so brutally candid, yet charmingly tactless. They hadn't even known each other for a full day, yet the other had so easily shaken him to his core. Maybe his urge to make a new friend in the other man wasn't so ridiculous after all?

Kanda's eyes widened comically as Allen felt a few tears start to fall down his cheek. While the taller man seemed panicked over what to do at the sign of emotion, Allen could only concentrate on the peace spreading within him.

Shit. Shit shit shit! He hadn't meant to make the guy cry! What the heck was he supposed to do now? All he wanted was to force the stupid moyashi to see what an idiot he was being, and now he had waterworks on his hands! What was he even crying about anyway? He knew he shouldn't have brought this whole thing up in the first place, but he couldn't get it out of his mind.

The thought of trying to comfort Allen with words didn't even cross his mind; he wasn't a sap, after all. Maybe he should punch him? That way he would get angry and kick Kanda out, and then they could both pretend that none of this ever happened. Wait, but what if just it made him cry even more? Fuck, why was this so—

"Thanks for…that," Allen sniffed, wiping his face with the back of hand. Kanda stared, completely dumbfounded. He was being thanked? This guy was definitely weirder than he thought. Allen leaned forward and picked up his forgotten tea, blowing on it slightly before taking a drink.

"Drink yours before it gets cold," he suggested, pointing to Kanda's cup.

Kanda looked down and realized he really wasn't thirsty any more. He reached for the cup anyway, figuring it was polite to at least take a few sips. He didn't notice Allen's scrutiny until the other casually said, "Huh. Your eyes are actually blue. I hadn't noticed before."

Kanda's eyebrows decided to hang out with his hairline for a few seconds as he grappled with how to react. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he found himself sputtering as he hastily put his tea back down and scrambled to put some distance between himself and the white haired teen. He told himself it wasn't an escape. He was simply moving to get a closer look at Allen's bird.

"Nothing. It was just an observation." Allen had gotten up and followed him. He said as they approached the birdcage, "His name is Timcampy. Tim for short. He's a Yellow Red-lored Amazon Parrot." Kanda made a face. Was that mouthful of a name supposed to mean anything to him? Allen smiled faintly as he opened the cage and reached his arm inside to allow the bird to climb on to his outstretched hand. "He was a gift from Cross two months after he officially adopted me."

Allen extracted his arm from the cage and began to pet the bird, which had bent its head to accommodate the attention. Timcampy had yellow plumage covering his entire body, with the exception of a red splotch that was vaguely arrow shaped on his face, and red slivers showing at the bottom of his wings.

"Would you like to pet him?" Allen extended his hand, giving Kanda the opportunity. The bird cocked its head and chirped, fixing Kanda with his round eyes. He was suddenly struck with the notion that Timcampy was silently judging him. Kanda declined Allen's offer, to which the other raised an eyebrow then put his bird back inside its cage and latched the door shut.

Kanda observed Allen and tried to figure out where the two of them stood with each other. One minute Allen was crying, the next, he's introducing him to his bird. As he watched his host return to the chair he had previously vacated, he realized that the intensity with which he was observing his host made him feel like he was being vaguely predatory. Well that was a stupidly weird thing to do, he thought, and gave himself a firm mental shake. He glanced out the window as he heard the rain begin to pick up in volume again.

"So," Allen began, "at the moment, you know a lot more about me than I do about you. That doesn't seem quite fair. Care to remedy this situation?"

Kanda scowled. "What do you want to know?" he asked warily.

"How about…what do you do for a living?" Allen asked, tilting his head in a way that made the dim lighting play across his face.

"Next," Kanda barked harshly. Allen recoiled in surprise.

"Wha—but that's an easy question to answer," he protested.

"Maybe for you." Kanda felt his head pound and his irritation levels were quickly rising again. He did not want to talk about this.

"Oh. You don't have a job?" The brat didn't have any tone of judgment in his voice, so Kanda was able to keep his cool just for a few moments longer. Fixing the idiot with a heated glare, he hoped to get the message across that the subject was to be dropped. Of course, it was his luck that the fearsome expression that normally worked on most people had no effect on Allen.

"It's not that big of a deal to not have a job, you know. I'm sure there are plenty of opportunities—"

Kanda couldn't help cutting in, "It's not finding a job that I have issues with, it's keeping one." Damnit! He'd said he didn't want to talk about this! Why did he have to open his damn mouth?

"I'm willing to bet it's your temperament that's getting you in trouble, isn't it?" Allen said with an insufferable knowing look. That settled things. He was going to murder the moyashi if he said another word. Painfully. Preferably with his sword.

"You know, if you let me, I'd be willing to help you out with getting a job you could keep." The last straw of his tolerance snapped. He wondered darkly how long it would take him to run home and grab Mugen, and was in the middle of deciding where he would cut first when Allen's words caught up with his comprehension. Was this a joke? He couldn't pick up on any traces of amusement on the shorter man's face, so maybe it wasn't. Kanda battled between his anger and his bewilderment before the bewilderment won, and he fixed Allen with a perplexed stare.

"Why?" he asked warily.

Allen avoided his gaze, choosing instead to watch as Timcampy hopped from his perch to take a drink of water. "Is it so hard to believe that I just might want to help you out of the goodness of my heart?"

"Yes," Kanda deadpanned.

"That hurts," the other replied, pretending to be offended. "Really, I like you, and I figure that helping you out is the least I can do in return for…you having kept me company this evening." He focused on Kanda again after he finished speaking. He was blushing ever so slightly, but he didn't look away.

Taking in the earnest look on Allen's face, Kanda realized that he actually meant what he said. The seriousness of his offer aside, Kanda was still stumped over the fact that he had said he liked him. That was not the typical reaction of someone who had just met him. Insults of his personality or having a general poorly hidden sense of uneasiness around him were common enough that he was mostly deadened to such occurances. Having someone say they liked him was what was disarming enough that he didn't know how to act. He was well aware of his anti-social tendencies, and those weren't about to change. Socializing was something he didn't need, and didn't want to bother with. It was pointless because he was just fine on his own. But…if that was completely true, then why did he feel the tiniest spark of happiness that Allen found him likable? Regardless, his pride chose to roar its defiance.

"I don't need your help," He said contemptuously, "and I didn't even really do anything aside from sit here and drink some tea."

Allen seemed unsurprised by his attitude. "So? You still could have chosen not to come with me."

Kanda grumbled to himself, wondering if this guy often brought home people he picked up off the street. What did he even say to that stupid question? Allen sighed, catching his notice.

"Look, do you just want to leave? If I'm annoying you, I'll call a taxi to take you home."

Kanda felt like wincing at how obvious it was that Allen didn't want him to leave. The pleading silver eyes and the pout threatening to form were begging him to decline the offer. Kanda pondered his options. If he said yes, he could escape this whole awkward situation; on the other hand, it would also mean going back home to deal with his family. Shuddering, he shook his head firmly. The moyashi was annoying, but not nearly as annoying as they were.

"No, just…drop the thing about my job situation," he said wearily.

"Alright!" Allen said brightly. "If that's off limits, then how about we just find something on TV and relax?" Taking Kanda's noncommittal grunt as a yes, Allen picked the remote off the table and turned the TV on, then began flipping through the channels. Settling on what seemed to be some kind of action thriller, he sat back and brought his legs up to curl around him. As the flickering screen cast its glow into the dim room, the two gradually relaxed into each other's company fully for the first time that night.

Kanda wasn't sure why it happened, but sometime after what must have been the sixth on-screen explosion, he and Allen began casually chatting with each other as if they were falling into an old habit. The topics never strayed from subjects of topical interest, which was especially puzzling because Kanda simply did not do small talk. Yet here he was exchanging playful banter with this person, and not minding it at all—which was as close as he was going to get to admitting that he actually enjoyed it.

Some part of Kanda was still alarmed over the way Allen had managed to get past the wall that kept others back, but it was…invigorating at the same time. Even if it was only temporary, he managed to forget about the anger and frustration that had been plaguing him day in and day out.

It was in the middle of a low chuckle (the movie had long since ended and both of them were only half paying attention to the television) when Allen glanced at the digital readout of the time on the cable box and his eyes widened in surprise.

"It's almost 11:30! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you so late!" he cried, biting his lip anxiously.

"Don't freak out, moyashi. It's no big deal." Kanda grumbled, unconsciously checking the time himself as if to make sure of how late it was. Allen frowned.

"You called me that earlier, but I don't actually know what it means."

"Moyashi? It's Japanese for bean sprout."

"What? As in-"

"You're all white and little." Kanda said with a grin, already knowing that Allen would react badly.

Predictably, he exploded, "I'm not a bean sprout, or a moyashi, or whatever! I'm Allen! And I'm not little!" He was still grumbling as he dialed Kanda a taxi, only stopping once someone picked up on the other end of the line. Watching the slim teen as he ended the call and took the long forgotten tea cups to the sink, Kanda thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get used to this. He had a feeling that Alma would approve.

"Here's your jacket." Allen said, returning the now dry item to its owner. Kanda pulled it on, not bothering to fix his hair.

Glancing out the window, Allen commented, "I can't believe it's still raining. It's a good thing you don't have to walk back home."

Kanda made a noise that Allen had learned to interpret as some form of agreement. It was even more obvious now that he'd had a chance to spend more time with the dark haired man that Kanda was an extremely reticent person. His rudeness probably kept many people away, but Allen was determined not to let it affect him too much. He genuinely wanted to be Kanda's friend if the other would allow it.

Sure, there were people who may call themselves his friends, and a few like Lenalee that he would even consider himself close with, but none who he felt a connection with. At least, not the way he did with Kanda. He may have started talking to the man because it was an appealing idea to unburden himself on a stranger who knew nothing about him, but he hadn't expected that same stranger to open up to him in return. The memory was still vivid in his mind, and he suspected it would remain branded there for the rest of his life.

Sifting through his kitchen drawers, Allen produced a pen and note pad, on which he scribbled his name and phone number. Tearing it off, he walked back to Kanda and offered it to him. "You're free to use this anytime, if you'd like," he said, hating the shyness that had found its way into his voice. During the few seconds in which he waited for the other to reach out and take it, his heart thumped as he couldn't help but imagine the other jeeringly telling him that he didn't want it. When Kanda glanced at the paper then tucked it safely in his pocket, Allen breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Um," Kanda began, immediately drawing Allen's scrutiny. During the entire time he had been here, Kanda had yet to stutter or stumble over anything. The taller man looked around the apartment, unable to keep his focus on Allen for more than a few restless seconds. His brows were furrowed and his teeth ground in frustration.

"I, uh, wanted to…," he managed to spit out before losing his nerve to speak again. Suddenly, Allen thought he might have a feeling about what Kanda might be trying to say. Expressions of gratitude must be hard for someone so impolite.

Allen smiled and nodded, saying, "You're welcome. Like I said, I enjoyed the company."

Judging by Kanda's simultaneously relieved and embarrassed expression, Allen had guessed right.

He turned to the door muttering something that sounded vaguely like goodbye.

Though apparently, Allen still had something to say, because before he realized what he was doing, his mouth was moving and words that he had thought to hold back were spilling forth.

"If it means anything to you, I think that if you and Alma were as close as you say, then he'd probably want you to forgive yourself for the way the two of you parted. He just wanted you to be happy, so it would honor his memory if you could move on."

That hung between them for several silent seconds and Allen wondered if he wished hard enough, the ceiling would collapse and bury him right then and there. Why, oh, why couldn't he have kept quiet for twenty seconds longer? That way Kanda would be gone and he wouldn't have pushed the matter. The man had explicitly expressed that he had no desire to talk further about his issues. What if he pissed him off badly enough that Kanda never wanted to see him again? He could throw Allen's contact information at his feet. He could start yelling. Heck, he didn't seem like he was above throwing a punch. The cascade of bad thoughts was brought to a halt when he realized that Kanda wasn't exploding at all. He didn't even look angry.

"I think so too," he said thoughtfully. Giving Allen a curt nod, he went through the door and left, leaving Allen once again in an empty apartment.

That night as he lie in his bed, Allen couldn't help turning to look at his barely visible phone on the bedside table. He felt sure that his fledgling friendship with Kanda would be just what he needed right now. The hours they spent together had helped him realize just how much he had fallen into himself, and how trapped by his own guilt he had become. His feelings of regret had ended up eclipsing Mana's memory, and that felt almost worse than the guilt itself. He couldn't allow himself to wallow in his melancholy forever, and Kanda was that first step in moving on. After all, it was what Mana would want. In his depression, he had nearly forgotten the creed that Mana always said was important for Allen to remember: Never give up. Just keep walking.

That night, both Kanda and Allen slept as though a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders. They would be ready to face the morning when it came.

...

AN: As of this moment, I'm toying with the idea of making this a two shot, or at least writing a sequel (which would probably turn into yullen, so sorry if you were hoping otherwise). But I'd like to know what you all think first. This is my first published attempt at a serious story, so I'd really appreciate what feedback you can give me.

Thanks for reading!