Well, this is my first D. Grey-Man story. I was reading some and I wondered if maybe Allen was ashamed by his arm. And I was listening to Green Day's 'Give me Novocain'.

Summery: Allen is depressed, but hides it well. Kanda sees through it and won't stop until he finds out why. Why won't Allen let anyone be more than a friend? And how did Cross's habits really effect Allen[KxA

I don't own D. Grey-Man, if I did Allen and Kanda would be getting in trouble all the time for too much fluffy-ness.


Allen and Kanda had been fighting Akuma in Russia while looking for Innocence. They had discovered it to be a false trail and now were headed back to the train. They had nothing with them because all of their spare clothes and Allen's jacket had been destroyed by the Akuma.

As they past through a village, Allen kept his head low. He had been to this village once with his Master before and he didn't want anyone to recognize him and demand money. Sadly a man in the crowd recognized his snowy white hair.

"Hey you bastard, you're an apprentice to the asshole Cross who owns me money. Pay up!"

When Allen continued walking, pretending not to know the man, he lashed out. He grabbed the left sleeve of Allen's shirt and tried to pull him back. The material, already weak from fighting, tore from the rest of the shirt revealing Allen's cursed red arm.

"Gah!" the man screamed. "What are you? Some kinda freak? Get outta HERE!"

A heartbroken look appeared on his face. Allen ran to the train, trying to escape the whisperings coming from the local people. It had been like this every time someone got a good look of his arm. It was the reason his parents wanted nothing to do with him. It was why he wore a long sleeve shirt all year long, no matter how hot it was. As much as he loved being an exorcist, he would trade anything not to have his weapon attached to his arm in a bloody red mess.

Kanda starred at Allen's retreating form. He didn't completely understand why Allen ran away. Normally Allen was all smiles. But now he ran like a child who had been told he didn't belong to the world. Kanda turned to the man who had ripped Allen's sleeve off.

"Consider you life repayment from him" he snarled before running after Allen.

He caught up with Allen who was already in the car, looking out the window.

-End flashback-

It had been like that for three hours now. Slowly Allen's lips started moving.

"It's pathetic, isn't it? How I can face death on a daily basis, yet the moment my arm is exposed to the world I run away." Allen said.

Kanda continued to look at him with a blank expression, but inside his head was spinning with confusing. Why did it matter so much to Allen? As if reading his mind Allen continued.

"You wanna know why it matters to me? Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how hard I try to seem polite, everyone runs, or screams, or avoids me after they see my arm. Even my master didn't like to look at it. Whenever he was offered clothing for me, he insisted it was long sleeve. The only person who it didn't really matter to was Mana." He flexed his arm "Any friend I ever had has been lost because of this…this…this arm!" He couldn't contain the tears anymore, they flowed down his face.

Kanda watched the boy cry. He had always thought of Allen as a happy-go-lucky sort of person. Now he realized that was just to try to get people close to him without thinking he was a freak the only way he knew how. He appeared selfless and thoughtless of anyone but himself. And if they rejected him, he ran like an injured animal. He tried covering it up with his sugary sweet smiles, but they washed away with the disgusted comments.

Now that Kanda thought about it, this was the first time he had seen Allen's arm. He was extremely good at hiding it. But Kanda wasn't sickened by it. He had seen things far worse. But he supposed that when you haven't lived the life of an exorcist, Allen's arm would be rather alarming. Allen must have felt extremely isolated when his arm was exposed.

"Hey, moyashi," Kanda started, expecting to be given the traditional "my name is Allen. A-L-L-E-N!" speech. When Allen didn't even bat an eyelash he became angry.

"Oi, beansprout. Look at me when I'm talking to you" Slowly Allen turned his head to face Kanda.

"Why? Why do you care about what those people think? Why does it matter so much?"

"Because, I just…I just want to be accepted. The only way that can happen is if I hide my arm from the world."

"Mana didn't care." Kanda simply stated. Allen's head whipped up.

"Don't you dare talk about Mana!" he yelled at the older swordsmen. "He's the only family I ever had. He was the only one who truly accepted me. So don't talk about him like you know him!"

"I may not have known him," Kanda stated. "But I know how he felt. You think it matters to me about your arm? I've seen things ten times more horrible than it. I haven't flinched at the site of it this entire time. But I can say that I'm ashamed of you. You think Mana was the only family you had? What about Lavi and Linalee? Aren't they family?"

Allen didn't say anything. True, he was very close with red-haired devil, and the sweet girl, but he didn't want a family. If he had a family, he'd forget about Mana.

After a few more hours Kanda got up to get some food and talk to the Finder. When Allen heard the door slide shut he turned to Timcampy.

"Tim, I need one," He said. "I haven't used it in a while, so please don't fight with me now."

Tim reluctantly opened his mouth and Allen pulled out a small syringe filled with Novocain. He put it into his left arm; it didn't hurt his mind as much if he could properly feel his arm. As he slowly pushed the syringe down the door open.

Kanda had come back after finding out he could have dinner delivered to him in half an hour. What he came back to see was Allen with his eyes half closed pushing down something, it looked like a needle, into his arm. He took a few breathes and as calmly as he could ask…


Allen's eyes opened in shock. How was he gunna get himself outta this one?

Well, that's the end of Chapter one. Tell me what you think.


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