FULL SUMMARY: Allen, always bashful and hesitant, found himself plunged in a mental state of uncertainly, doubt, regret and awareness. One day he catches Kanda kissing Kasha, a female exorcist. He claims that he hates the mentioned raven-haired teen, but does he really? Torn between his duties as an exorcist, and his overpowering emotions, Allen found that he was drawn, attracted to the samurai. He was never good at confessing nor does he have the guts to admit it. Kanda, aware of his growing fondness for the Moyashi, pushes those feelings away. All it takes was for someone to take the first step.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own any of these characters.

NOTE: This story and plot were written with no regards to the ongoing manga.

WELL, this is most certainly odd. I was suddenly plunged with such sorrow that I decide to write this fanfiction. All based on what I felt. I know it's really strange, but oh well…

When you get an inspiration, you just go with the flow! XD

Don't worry; this will definitely turn out a Yullen fanfiction.

I hope you enjoy this story, tell me what you think, I'd love to know what you feel about this chapter. Thanks. :) Happy reading, I suppose.

CHAPTER 1: Actions of Avoidance

He watched, oblivious to a growing wave of grief rushing through him, Kanda kiss the girl. Kasha, the female exorcist was, without a doubt, beautiful. She was slim, gorgeous, with soft bouncy hair that glowed a radiant honeycomb color.

She has a figure that turned many heads. Giving men a perfectly sound reason to drool and ogle. The way she tosses her hair and laughs in a sweet, appreciative tone. The way she walks and practically floats around the place like heaven's angel. The way she smiles, blushing ever so delicately, and speaks with such grace, word has it that her popularity was greater than Lenalee's.

She was, what one would call, perfect.

'Perfect for Kanda.' Allen thought. 'I should happy for him…'

No. That was just crap. Happiness was a word so far detached from his current emotions; he should be called a cheap liar. A traitor.

"You're a bloody liar…"


'You heard me. I said you're a liar. You're anything but happy for him.' A small voice said.

Feeling ridiculously defensive, Allen shook his head, trying hard to sort out his thoughts.

'You like him, don't you? But it's too late, now. So all you can do is watch him shag some other chick.'

Allen didn't retort. Not just because he was rendered speechless by that statement. But because it was slicked in such reality and truth, he couldn't think logically. His movements were drowned in surmise.

'It's not true…I hate him! I hate him with every fibre of my being.' Allen thought, entirely unconvinced. 'Kanda criticizes my worth every goddamn day of his life. I bet he enjoys watching me suffer. Why, in heaven's name, would I like a man like him? He's rude, uncouth and foul!'

'Tough words, Allen Walker. Really.' The debating voice resounded, yet again. 'I shall applaud you for acting so tough, despite the situation you're in.'

Allen, ignoring the tugging pain in his mental state, silently left the cafeteria.

His departure did not go unnoticed by the raven-haired teen.


Allen slumped himself onto the bed.

His room was dark – parts of it dimmer than the rest with the growing shadows.

He rested one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head, and peered through his stained-glass window.

The sky was darkening into a sinister blue, hovered with gray clouds. Odd enough, the moon was covered, hidden by those thick layers of atmosphere and evaporated water. It still glowed, ever so faintly, with a soft yellow color. Allen noticed that the stars, too, were concealed.

He felt like even the weather was hiding its face from the display at the cafeteria. It was, like his mental state, depressing. Horribly depressing.

'Display?' Allen thought, a little sickened from the mental image. He replayed that scene in his mind. His stomach churned, sick.

Well, that was most certainly a display of affection, wasn't it? Or maybe it was some weird, terrible joke?

Allen found himself, secretly, hoping for the latter. He never knew why. Nor was he keen on knowing.

As far as jokes or pranks were concerned, Allen knew, Kanda would never fall into those categories. The Japanese samurai was what he claimed 'too powerful' and 'too smart' to descend into such stupid cracks. So perhaps, the concept of Kanda making a joke didn't blend in too well.

It didn't make any sense, or some form of justified reasoning, anyway.

'No. That's not it.' Allen thought. 'Kanda definitely likes Kasha. I'd seen them together before. It's just that...I never knew how deep their relationship was.'

There. He said it. Those words stung him hard.

It was awful.

The heartrending taste of bitterness was smeared and tightly wounded around his being. The pain was, unmistakably, one of avoidance and depression. The self-inflicted emotional ache was cast on his hammering heart. Scared. Afraid.

He was so sure it would shatter into a million pieces.

He wanted to cry. To shout. To tear out this mortal taste which, often as one can assume, resulted from the human flaw.

He did cry. A little.

He tasted the salty tears that trickled down his cheeks. His eyes were filled with such melancholy and grief, it darkened into depths of agony.

'I don't understand…why am I feeling this way? Why am I crying for…no reason whatsoever? This is just ridiculous.'

Perhaps, it was, what Allen called – ridiculous. But deep inside his stirring, bleeding heart, his emotions were chaotic. They flooded with strong waves of anger, but carried a greater surge of…sadness.

Sadness. Allen Walker found he hated that word.

It tore and stained his rational thoughts. It made his heart skip a beat.

It tasted so bitter like opium - and yet, worse. You could not just throw up or remove bitterness from your life. It was a drug, a human flawed word that blemished every soul. It was also a sensitively administrated substance that changes or modifies your body, your temperament, and your state of emotions.

You would cry, wouldn't you? You would scream. You would feel like the lowest scum in the universe. Wallowing in self-guilt and a sea of darkness.

Those feelings, strongly felt by Allen, were harder and more dreadful than what one describes. In fact, it was beyond description. He didn't expect anyone to understand it either. It was what one commonly associates with – avoidance.

'I really don't understand why I'm crying…' Allen thought, bitterly. 'Why? Why these tears? I'm anything but sad…really…'

That was bullshit.

Yes, he doesn't have, nor could he find, a reason for self-pitying. Or so he thought. But really, a string and chorus of forbidden thoughts were erupting so heatedly in his chest, it might explode. But he pushed those, irrational (he claimed), feelings away.

He was escaping. A self-defense mechanism one used when waded so deep in sorrow, there was simply no other feasible solution. You could call him a coward for not facing up or confronting those issues – those burdening ones. But honestly?

Allen Walker was on the brink of depression.

Only which, he didn't know.

Maybe he did, and simply refused to believe it.

Ignorance may be bliss…

To forget and bury.

'Yes, that's right. I'm just going to sleep and tomorrow,' He said aloud to no one in particular. 'Everything will be just fine.'

The sides of his mouth quirked into a faint smile. It was one of painful denial. He felt as though he was trying to convince himself into believing those statements. It was dreadful - really dreadful.

But did he have a choice?

The kid was just foolish, silly even. It was impossible to forget the emotion twinge and cover them with dreams. What was he thinking? How long did he intend to avoid the issue?

It was, merely, just another form of escape.

He knew it. Or did he?

Allen Walker was hounded so closely by grief, his bitter thoughts channeled him to slumber. Unaware and oblivious to a guise of wretchedness plastered on his pale face.


Kanda watched Allen leave the cafeteria soundlessly. No one noticed his departure, but him.

He saw the look of utter shock and sadness.

'That Moyashi…' he thought.

He had hurt him, hadn't he?

'That's just ridiculous,' the Japanese teen thought, bemused. 'Why the bloody hell do I care about him, anyway?'

Yes, why? Much to Kanda's disappointment, he had found himself more drawn to the Moyashi than was proper. It wasn't like those thoughts were voluntary; they merely popped out, distressing his mental state.

His thoughts were just…attracted (because there was simply no other word for it) to the silver-haired kid. And they seem to hound him restlessly, chasing him even in his sleepless state.

More often than naught, he had pushed those thoughts, for a sensible explanation that it did very strange things to him.

They aren't, what Kanda called, normal.

In fact, he found it shameful and 'inappropriate for a high-leveled exorcist like him'.

What were those thoughts? Those feelings? Kanda shuddered, mentally, and refused to reflect a step farther.

"Kanda," Kasha beamed, flashing him another one of her beauty grin. "Do you want to leave now? Kanda?" She waved a hand in front of his face.

"Hmm?" Kanda asked, snapping out of his reverie. "What?"

Kasha's smile weakened a little. Kanda wasn't paying her the attention she wanted. She didn't like at all.

"I asked if you wanted to leave." She said, stroking his thigh flirtatiously. "We can go to my room."

"Fine." He said in a flat, dead tone.

Kanda, like Allen, was escaping. Escaping from the harsh reality that often knocked on his door, chasing him out of the darkness he preferred.

It annoyed him to no end.

He wanted to remove that unmistakably pained look from his mind. It was so deeply etched, it frayed his nerves.

'That look on the Moyashi's face…' he thought.

A small, bubbling sensation pricked at his cold heart, but it was immediately replaced with a hard cast of avoidance.

Oblivious to him, it was just buried deeper, in layers and layers of frazzled temperament.

He didn't care. He wanted to forget...

That look.