A blemish is insignificant . . .

. . .when love embraces itself so possessively

- - - - -

His life was on the brink of a bottomless pit of darkness.

It was cynical – yes, and depressing, no less. And yet, that truth was drenched so thickly and sickly with each passing day, each passing minute, each passing second. He could almost taste death, for it seemed to descend so relentlessly around him.

His hour in life was close to its last chapter.

Kanda heaved a heavy sigh as he pressed a hand on his left chest, feeling the soft humps that resulted with his pounding heart.

The black imprint, the tattoo with irregular contours, was deeply rooted in his skin. The strange shape was scarcely recognizable, with curves and an unfamiliar character, and thus prevented any feasible comprehension. The skin encircled around it seemed to crave for its removal – to crawl away from it. It was etched, neatly, on his chest like black ink. It was, however, anything but. It was a permanent blemish, a prolonged mental anguish that trots on his very being.

Yes, the word was highly appropriate for the 18 year old. It was a blemish - a dirty, imperfection to his living days. He hated it. He hated how weak it made him feel. He hated how it seemed to torment his waking hours – and even in his slumber. Nights of endless insomnia have chased him like angry hounds on a pursuit of a criminal.

He would hide - pushing away those daunting thoughts and channeling his blood with bitterness – to be insensitive and detached from any emotional wounds. It was, what anyone could associate with, a self-defense mechanism that, indubitably, results in the degeneration of the individual and further avoidance.

He found himself weak, hopeless.

He didn't like that emotion; it spoke deeply to his subconscious.

No, it wasn't just the tattoo.

He looked up and stared, in his usual quirk, at the object of his angst.

The frail-looking flower in the hourglass was partly responsible for his tormented soul. The pink Lotus threw a soft shadow on the feeble petals that had fallen to the bottom of the hourglass. It seemed to mock his very existence.

His fighting spirit, his determination, his life were all for naught.

And so was his love.

A warm droplet trickled down from his tear duct and onto the cold, hard floor.


He was watching. No, he had been watching this whole time – Kanda propped up from his bed and stared, with a hard cast of grief on his face, at the strange object that lay on the table in solitude and perfect stillness.

Allen stared at it for a long time.

It was just a flower - a rather beautiful pink Lotus, glistened with a soft light hue, with fallen petals lying below. But what perplexed him most was how the blossom looked captured, trapped in the hourglass. Prior to his diminutive knowledge of that mystified object, he had seen its purpose and utility. When all the sand has dropped to the bottom, it marked the end of a game or perhaps an hour. However, its usage had altered with no boundaries and, therefore, no full comprehension has been derived nor could anyone attend to its sole intention. It was just strange. He had never seen anything like it before – the Lotus in an hourglass - and he wasn't sure if he liked its presence.

He didn't understand what Kanda was doing, staring so intently at the flower, or what was his reason for doing so. But from the odd concentration penetrating through his eyes to the Lotus, he could infer its utmost importance.

And to a certain extent, though oblivious, it brought up feelings of dread.

He didn't like how Nature's creation could emit invisible hollers of promised anguishand death. It was ironic.

No. It was very ironic – like a play between appearance versus reality.

He shuddered and looked away from it. The term 'death' had scarred his life – both emotionally and physically. The bodily wounds had long healed, covering up the mortal substance that was bleeding so profusely before, leaving a scar. No, he wasn't afraid of facing man's final stage on earth. It was anything but. He felt a heartrending bitter taste drowning his emotions, preventing any forms of escape. It had released a floodgate of Opium Sea and made him cower, like a wounded animal, in man's nature to deny.

He was afraid of watching his comrades, friends and loved ones fall onto the ground, motionless - their fighting spirit diminishing from their faces. Their eyes, dead and lifeless, flicker from the lights of battle and their last drawn breath muting into the tensed atmosphere.

Their limp bodies, cold and lifeless without its companion, their soul.

He was very afraid.

He would never, in every fibre of his being, let that day struts its dreadful performance. No, he would fight with them, for them. He would fight until his soul is cast out from his body. He would protect his loved ones like a mother's embrace to her newborn child.

Death will never arrive.

Not for his loved ones, at least. He would execute this task, this passion.

Death is a forbidden term to his realm of consciousness.

Allen shook his head, in a mental quirk to wipe out that distressing thought, and shifted his gaze to the man he had loved for so long now.

With the constant movements of shadowy figures in afternoon's predominance, he could barely make out the expression sported, and yet he saw how Kanda's eyes flickered in white hues – grief was evident.

He could almost feel that heartrending emotion tearing up in his insides; his heart seemed to thump in a lower staccato like the lyrics of 'Pleading Child'.

It was then he had realized that a single shimmering teardrop had fallen from his face. He froze, his knuckles turning white from gripping the doorknob so tightly.

Kanda was crying.

He had never seen, or perhaps he didn't know, the cold-hearted exorcist portraying any signs of sorrow, and lamenting no less.

No. He had assumed that Kanda was incapable, in his sadistic days, of sporting such an overwhelming emotion. His heart, he had assumed, was stoned and frozen to the very depths of the blood flowing through it. The heart was believed to be the centre of feelings and emotions, and judging from Kanda's temperament, his had long been frozen in blocks of solid ice.

But could he reinforce those statements now? Could he say that Kanda was a heartless and insensitive being?

No, he couldn't.

The dawn of realization seemed to come knocking at his front door, its tapping increasing in speed and sound with each passing second. And like strong arms throwing him back into reality, he suddenly became aware of how limited his understanding was of the Japanese samurai.

No, he didn't understand him at all.

Kanda's feelings, his uncontrollable emotions and thoughts seemed to be hazed with a thick fog – forbidding any possible route for others to comprehend.

And yet this very fortification of solid walls was also capturing its owner like a prison bird in its cage. It seemed that Kanda didn't want anyone to penetrate through his hard cast, and preferred to live in solitude – hiding in his own shadow.

All those cold, heartless actions and words were a mere façade. A now, visibly, shattered one with the guise of wretchedness on his half-shadowed face.

What was happening? Why was Kanda crying? What happened to him? Is he all right?

He felt scared, trembling slightly from the scene. All those tears and evident melancholy frayed his nerves; its very occurrence was a fiend itself. Those perturbing questions seemed to revolve endlessly in his mind. He wanted to know. He must. And, he felt that if they were not answered, his mind might explode from his own assumptions. He wanted to understand how Kanda was feeling. What he was really thinking. He wanted to share his troubles, his burdens.

But honestly, what could he do? Was there anything he could do for the man he loved?

He suddenly felt so hopeless like how the leaves clung feebly to its branches, only to fall soon after.


"Moyashi," he said, wiping the streaks of dribbled tears on his face, and shifted his gaze towards his door. He knew that Allen had been standing behind the door, watching him. He didn't mind. He didn't care. It was only a matter of days, and perhaps time, before he would fully understand. Yes, he will know. He must.

Allen gasped, a little startled at the mention of his name.

"- are you going to just stand there the whole day or are you going to come in?" he asked in a simple dead, flat tone.

"Sorry, Kanda." Allen said, shifting his feet slowly into the room, unsure of how to explain himself. "I-I was…I was just…"

"Nevermind." He intoned, with a soft sigh. "Just get in and close the damn door."

"Okay." Allen replied and, not wanting to show any dissidence, did as he was told. The door closed with a soft thud and the room resumed its usual atmosphere of perfect silence.

The darkness, that seemed to shroud their individuals with consuming gloom, was daunting – and the low hum in his ears further tensed up his bloodstream. He could practically hear his own heartbeat, his pulse, pounding through to his eardrum. Should he ask? Was he allowed to? Would Kanda allow him to?

There were so many questions burning, like fueled flame, in his mind. So many, felt to be, forbidden ones that he, himself, was unsure. Was he afraid of the answers? There was, most definitely, a feeling of trepidation bubbled up in his throat.

And for what seemed like ages, Allen finally asked, "Is everything all right, Kanda?" He had meant it to sound normal, and cool – and yet he heard a slight tremble of concern in his voice.

Kanda heard it too, for what he said next halted that gleam of emotion.

"And why do you ask?" he said, his tone was drowned in its usual depths of mockery. "Are you worried for me, Moyashi?"

He didn't intend to repay his concern with sarcasm. No. He just didn't like how scared and troubled it was making him feel. Allen should be spared of all those nerve-wrecking emotions, for a very simple reason, because he doesn't deserve to be agonized with what he was tormented with.

And he will, with every heartbeat, propel those feelings into oblivion.

The silver-haired teen looked up from his feet, and stared back into his black eyes. Kanda's face was plastered in its usual cold front, but Allen knew better. It was just a mask burying those long hidden sentiments. He wanted, so much, to lift off this fascia and unveil the layers and layers of obscured emotions.

"Yes, I am." He replied. "And you haven't answered my question, Kanda. Are you feeling all right?"

"And why is my well-being of any concern to you?" Kanda said, his voice was now dripping a tone close to aggravation.

"Because it just is! And why can't you just answer my question?!"

"Why must you be such a goddamn nuisance?!" Kanda yelled, his tolerance had snapped. "Is your life just based on prying into others personal life? Why can't you do something more worthwhile with your time?!"

"Are you suggesting that my concern for you is unfounded?!" Allen retorted, his hands were now balled into fists, and he could feel his fingers stabbing hard into his sweaty palms. Tears were threatening to dribble down like a wash of rain.

He couldn't restrain his anger towards the ignorant exorcist. And to think, just seconds ago, he had felt an inexplicable surge of fear and apprehension for the Japanese samurai. His 'prying' questions were compared to nothing more than mere dust particles – to be swept away in haste.

He felt betrayed, to a certain degree, by his emotions. Why had he allowed them to take the reins over his actions, his thoughts? They were, clearly, unjustified like a barrister on a defense of a convicted murderer. And now look at how hard he had fallen; his kindness had been repaid with pure, reviled derision.


'It's just a mask…' a small voice suddenly said in his head. 'There's something, definitely, wrong with Kanda and he's just hiding it.'

Allen, his eyes still cast on the person in question, knitted his eyebrows into a single thin line. He frowned; the sides of his mouth dropping a little lower.

Kanda was ignoring him. He didn't answer nor did he look like he was mildly affected by his outburst - the most he did was to raise an involuntary black eyebrow. He had felt, though he hated to acknowledge, really warmed by Allen's concern for him.

And now he wished he hadn't said all those mean, hurtful words. He wished that he could tell him, explain to him everything and make him understand.

'But at what cost?' Kanda thought in a voice that sounded almost grief-stricken. 'No, I mustn't act like a selfish fool.'

Even if he had to suffer, he would rather suffer alone.

"Kanda…" Allen said, effectively cutting off his train of thoughts. "Can you just tell me what's going on?" He moved a few steps closer to the bed. "I know you're hiding something from me, I can feel it. Why can't you just tell me?"

'Why?' Kanda almost laughed in bitterness. '…because I would hate myself to see you undergo my history of long-awaited sadness. Why can't you understand, Moyashi? You haven't the slightest idea of what mental torture I'm going through just keeping you away from the truth. ' He sighed deeply, a sound riddled with sorrow.

What he said next, however, was anything but close to his true sentiments. "You never shut up, do you?"

"Yes, I do…until you tell me what's really going on."

"You annoy me, Moyashi."

"Don't worry, the feeling's mutual."

"Oh really?"

Kanda suddenly got up from his bed and straightened. With his height, Allen had to lift his head slightly higher, and this gesture caused him to stir.

"- I could make you shut up." he continued. Allen couldn't fully grasp the tone or meaning of his words. It sounded oddly mischievous (or was it mockery?) and yet, there was also a tint of gravity weighed down with each letters.


In a way, his answer was a surprise to both of them. He simply sealed Allen's lips with his own.

And he was right. That seemed to shut him up.


I didn't know what to think, what do to or how to react. My eyes opened wide in shock in an immediate reflex, and my head felt slightly giddy from all the adrenaline that was rushing so ruthlessly to my cerebral cortex. All I could feel was the warm, moist lips on mine.

I was being kissed.

And it felt so…good.

"Moyashi…" Kanda tore away from the soft, pursed kiss. He leaned his forehead slightly lower to press against mine, and I could hear his slow, shallow breaths. "Forgive me."

F-forgive him? What did he mean? Forgive him for what?

I didn't understand, or perhaps I couldn't, so I looked up and peered into his beautiful dark chocolate eyes that always seemed to glint with such determination, such vigor. And yet all I could bore into, now, was a faint etch of grief and remorse. His eyes were now hazed like a thick mist; one that I never understood or failed to do so.

My gaze was not returned; his was averted to the ground.

I didn't know what he was thinking (I never knew); Kanda was always so…out of reach. Yes, there was simply no other word for it. There were so many things I wanted to ask, and had to, and yet they were simply shoved aside. He has never, as I have recalled, answered any of my question with regards to the strange tattoo on his chest - and now, what more about the Lotus that sat so oddly at his desk? He was always dismissing my question as mere curiosity and often, as much as I had tried to prevent, we would end up in a heated argument.

So many queries were springing up in my head with my inquisitive hackles, but I was silent, because I knew he hated it when I probed too much into his life, and I didn't wish for him to get angry.

"Kanda…" I said in a barely audible voice and, a little hesitantly, reached out a pale hand towards his cheek. Within my unjustified concern and dread, I could almost feel the tracks of dribbled, salty tears that had long dried up.


He looked up this time, and I could see the sides of his mouth quirking into a faint smile.

"Moyashi..." he whispered softly into my ear. "Let me have you."


Allen's eyes lit up like a sentinel; he was, undeniably, startled by his request.

But all those feelings were quickly eradicated as Kanda grabbed Allen's hand on his cheek and pulled him forward into an embrace. Allen was now pressed against his chest and he could literally hear Kanda's heart thumping to a strange, slow rhythm. His, however, was accelerating as rapidly as his body temperature.

"I'll take your silence as consent." With that said, Kanda placed his fingers delicately under his chin and lifted his head, capturing Allen's lips in a passionate kiss. He felt the hot, sweet taste escaping into his mouth as he massaged his tongue against Allen's. He had wanted this for so long and, now that the opportunity has presented itself so willingly at his front door, he would relish every second of it.

I'll make you mine, Moyashi.

Kanda lowered down, cupped his hands around his thin, tight buttocks, gripped his thighs and lifted him into the air.

"K-Kanda!" Allen squeaked, rather alarmed by his action. He couldn't believe what was happening. Just seconds ago they were at the rim of another argument and now…they were…

"Hush, Moyashi." Kanda whispered in an almost comforting tone, which sounded highly seductive, as he placed him down on the bed very gently like he was a porcelain doll – fragile and so very delicate. Kanda kneeled down on the bed between Allen's legs, and advanced himself over Allen's small, petite body. He placed his hands on both sides of his head, lying above him, and therefore securing him in a very tight position – Allen was going nowhere.

Allen had opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off as Kanda captured his lips once more. The fight for dominance began – one that Kanda won in a matter of seconds – he felt Allen succumb to the kiss as he explored the insides of his mouth. They tasted each other hungrily, fiercely – roving. He savored in how delectable he tasted and the soft moans that escaped from his lips occasionally.

When they finally broke apart for some air, strings of saliva still connected from their lips. He gazed down, with lust evident in his eyes, into Allen's big, chocolate orbs. He looked oh so innocent, naïve and…endearing. Allen blushed furiously, processing his current situation, and bit the bottom of his lip in an unbearably cute way.

Hastily, he started to unbutton Allen's shirt, with his nimble fingers, and moved his hands against his thighs to pull off his pants. Kanda then proceeded to remove his clothes, placing his fingers on the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head – throwing them carelessly on the ground.

His sallow skin met Allen's eyes and, no sooner, so did the tattoo that seemed to be a blemish on his beautiful body. And, as if on cue, Allen reached up, encircling his arms around his head, and fumbled sloppily for the small band that tied his hair in a high ponytail. He watched in rapture as his long tresses fall strewn to the sides of his face, relishing in how silky it felt.

He gazed up at his capturer, his lover, and met his eyes amorously, Kanda smiled in a way that sent a triple acrobatic dance in his stomach, resulting in a garnet blush that graced his cheeks so frequently.

Kanda looked so…beautiful.

Looking at the raven-haired man and his rare smile, Allen felt he had denied himself every enjoyment in life except his job as an exorcist, which consumed him. Kanda was always so engrossed, so absorbed into his missions, and he would have been happier living a little; he thought faintly, and without the constant scowl on his face.

Kanda caressed his cheeks, in an act of affection, and bent down to suck briefly on his nipple that had hardened from all the explicating heat between them. This gesture caused Allen to moan in pleasure and arched his back in a surge of excitement, causing his erection to rub against Kanda's throbbing one.

Allen gasped, feeling beads of perspiration forming on his eyebrows and falling onto the sides of his face, and the place where their arousals had met was now burning. The heavenly friction that resulted was engraved so clearly – Allen wanted more…he was aching for more…

Kanda licked off the sheen of sweat that had formed on Allen's chest and trailed his tongue into his mouth.

"unnmm…Kanda…" Allen moaned as their gums rubbed against each other in frenzy. And, much to Kanda's astonishment, Allen rocked his hips harshly against his, wanting to experience more of the burning sensation. Kanda complied his actions for he straddled his waist, watching the small body jerking into his.

'Not innocent, after all, are you?' Kanda thought, smirking. 'You seem to be learning new things everyday, don't you?'

The air in the room was just getting hotter and hotter by the minute, and Kanda couldn't stand it anymore. Allen's occasional blushing, moaning and friction further tensed up his muscles, hardening his member.

"Moyashi…" he said, brushing away a few strands of hair from Allen's face, and looked at him lovingly. "This is going to hurt a little but I need you to relax." He hooked up his legs over his shoulders. "Just relax, Moyashi…"

Allen could only bob his head in response, feeling both scared and excited.

And with that weak affirmation, Kanda positioned himself at Allen's entrance and slowly thrust himself deep into him. Allen screamed, feeling his raw muscles rip apart, – the pain was one of undeniable pleasure and yet the twinge that accompanied it was, by no means, 'little'.


"Just relax…"

"K-Kanda…i-it's pain…" Allen managed to mutter through his now parched throat. Tears were welling up in the corner of his eyes.

"Relax, Moyashi…" Kanda repeated in a soothing voice as he used his thumb to wipe away the droplets of tears. He could hear Allen's heavy breathing and, in an attempt to relieve his tensed muscles, he planted soft kisses on his stomach. Allen let soft moans escape out from his mouth, and Kanda took this as an opportunity to thrust even deeper.

"K-KANDA!" Allen squealed, feeling him deep inside him. He closed his eyes, trying to restrain his tears from flowing, and pressed his sweaty body closer to his.

Kanda pulled out fully and thrust himself forward again, stabbing into him. He was so…tight. He thrust harder, knowing he would have to work even harder to prolong the pleasure, to draw out euphoria to its highest climax.

He was in deep, as deep as it got.

The thrust continued from a slow, steady rhythm to mounting – faster and faster. Allen screamed and moaned in sinful delight, digging his nails into his back and begged for him to go faster. He felt a large fission of pleasure coursing through to the tip of his erection. Something was rising up quickly inside him…something warm…

"KANDA!!" he cried out before releasing white pearly fluid all over their bodies. Kanda continued to rock inside him, pulling in and out, for a couple more times and, with a husky moan, released himself into Allen.

Allen, feeling something warm entered his behind, let out a guttural cry. He had been squeezing himself tightly against Kanda's chest as they rode out their orgasm and now; he slowly released his grip – collapsing onto the bed below. He was trembling, feeling weak and fatigue. His breaths were heavy, and he was close to falling into the realm of unconsciousness.

"I love you, Moyashi…" Kanda whispered as he lay onto the bed beside him and he pulled Allen's body close to his in a possessive embrace. Allen nuzzled his face into his bare, sweaty chest – taking delight in the strong, protective arms that was wrapped around his naked body.

"You are mine…forever."

Allen just snuggled himself closer to Kanda, relishing in the warmth he provided, and allowed stupor to envelop his being.

"I love you, Kanda." Allen murmured, a smile escaping onto his pliant lips, before he slowly slipped into slumber.

"I love you too, Moyashi…don't ever leave me…"

Kanda's words were barely perceptible, through Allen's drowsy state, but he didn't mind. Just watching the silver-haired boy sleeping so soundly in his arms was enough. Death itself seemed to reach, inevitably, forward for him with its bony fingers. And yet he believed, despite his foreboding circumstances, he would spend his numbered days with him – treasuring every precious second.

He had tainted an innocent, and he didn't feel ashamed of it either.

Allen was his, and only his, forever.