Somehow, I could never say "If you're happy, then it's okay"

Somehow, I could never say "If you're happy, then it's okay".
- Regret : Mai Hoshimura -

It Rained Like Tears
mentioned one-sided LavixAllen, mentioned KandaxAllen
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Excessive angst and mentions of character deaths
Notes/Disc: I totally blame Mai Hoshimura's 'Regret' for the birth of this fic. D.Gray-Man isn't mine, that's for sure.

The young man sighed soon after finding out the whereabouts of the person he was looking for.

Bookman has an affinity towards the rain, the young man noted. Whenever the sky looked like it was too laden with burden unseen to human eyes, one would always find Bookman at the back garden of his old mansion where he would watch petals of carefully groomed field of white roses sway to the silent rhythm of the wind. The man would stay even until the world was showered by prickling drops of liquidized substance that smelled suspiciously like a mixture of poison and tears. Firm. Unmoving. Gazing past the field of white into an unimaginable blankness.

The boy called it 'blankness' only because it was near impossible to try and guess what thoughts plagued the older man's mind. He tugged at the red hair that fell across his eyes to stop himself from cooking up various possibilities as to what the supposedly unfeeling Bookman would look so mournful for. Adjusting a worn headband adorning his hair, he crept slowly back inside. The first drops of rain had fallen, and the young man did not want to see Bookman mourning in the downpour that was sure to come.

Somehow, it hurt him to see Bookman like that.

The young man came to visit the man everybody called Bookman all the time. He was one of those remaining few who were not scared of the older man's dark, emotionless eyes. He couldn't find any reason to be scared of the quiet man. When they first met, Bookman had saved him from a bunch of thugs when he was a mere little boy. Orphans like him got picked on all the time, but that particular day was worse than any other time. He was glad that he was saved.

He'd heard rumours of how the older man cared little about people around him. Apparently, those rumours came from people who never made any effort to know who he was.

If there was one rumour the boy thought was believable, it was the little rumour about Bookman's past. People were talking about how he was traveling with another person before settling down on his own in an old mansion at the most secluded corner of the town. They all said that Bookman was probably shaken over the death of his traveling companion, which was why he always looked so sad.

As a young boy, the young man visited Bookman's house often. The first few weeks, the only acknowledgement he got from the silent man was either a nod or an arch of tired eyebrows. It was not until three months later that Bookman finally talked to him.

"You reminded me of someone. He had red hair like yours too," the Bookman had said.

The young man, who was still a little boy at that time, had beamed when Bookman finally talked to him. It was simply because when the older man spoke, there was a trace of a smile on his lips.

At that time, he was tempted to ask Bookman if he could call the man 'Father'.

The young man was 14 when he learned about the Great War which had ended a few years before he was born. He was 15 when Bookman told him about the Bookman clan: of what they were, what they did – everything. He was also 15 when Bookman asked him if he wanted to be an apprentice, which he gladly said 'yes' to. By the time he was 16, he had acquired a great knowledge of Exorcists, Innocence, Akuma, the Millenium Earl, Noah, the Black Order, the Noah's Ark, and the Heart of Innocence. Out of everything that he had learned from Bookman, he was most intrigued by the one who made the end of the Great War possible – an exorcist whose name was only recorded as the Destroyer of Time.

"But you do know the Destroyer of Time personally, don't you? Weren't you at the headquarters too at that time?"

He watched something akin to sadness flickered in Bookman's eyes, which vanished just as sudden as it appeared. For a moment, he thought, Bookman looked like a sickly old man minus a deathbed.

"I don't, unfortunately. But a boy named Lavi did. Would you like to read the journal he left behind?"


That was the end of the small conversation they had two days ago. Bookman had fetched a battered looking leather-bound journal from the topmost drawer of his study and handed it over to him. Now he sat in an old armchair by the fireplace, holding the journal in his hand.

He tried not to be worried of Bookman despite the fact that the older man was probably soaked to his skin by then. He didn't know if he should start reading from the beginning. In the end, he settled on one random page.

- - - - - - - - - -


Allen is looking paler each day. Somehow, I know that the burden of being the one phrophesised as the Destroyer of Time is finally taking its toll on him.

- - - - - - - - - -

Allen? So that was the name of the legendary Destroyer of Time. That little knowledge made him excited. He wanted to know more about 'Allen', their saviour, albeit through the eyes of another.

- - - - - - - - - -


It scares me when I think about how this war would end. There would definitely be casualties, but I just can't bear to think about it. I know it shouldn't bother me too much. People die everyday. But the thought of Allen dying leaves my whole body shaking with fear.

I saw him smile yesterday, and how I wanted to slap him. To get that smile off of his face. It was so fake that it hurt me. It hurt me a great deal. It pains me to think that my presence was not able to lighten his worry.

I know it's not his fault. Not at all. It's just selfishness on my part. I want to share his burden. I want to be the place he runs to when he's in trouble

See? I'm a very selfish person, after all. I want him all for myself.

I want him to love me like how I love him.

This feeling is wrong, I know. But who am I to deny the whispers of my own heart?

- - - - - - - - - -

The boy stopped reading for a minute. Suddenly, he was not sure whether he should keep on reading or just abandon the journal. He felt like he was an intruder of someone else's personal life.

But Bookman had said this journal was the only one that would give him a glimpse of who the real person behind the Destroyer of Time was.

He decided to keep on reading.

- - - - - - - - - -


We lost General Winters Sokaro today. General Cloud Nine had a hard time hiding her tears. Lenalee and Miranda were crying their hearts out although none of them knew the dead general personally. Heck, even that jerk Cross was silent for once. Who would have thought that the toughest looking exorcist could be killed in such manner?

I can't describe how he died. It was too gruesome. I'll just keep the details somewhere at the back of my head.

General Tiedoll was hurt badly in the battle too. He was barely breathing when they brought him in. For the first time in my life, I saw a flicker of panic in the cold-hearted Kanda Yuu's eyes. He turned pale at the sight of Tiedoll lying lifelessly on the infirmary bed.

And Allen. Our sweet, gentle Allen cried openly. His shoulders shook with choked sobs. I could only ruffle his hair to comfort him. I didn't dare hug him. If I did, I knew I would have wanted more.

I hate this.

- - - - - - - - - -


We lost General Tiedoll today. His bleeding could not be stopped, and the Order is running out of medical supply. He had smiled at us before breathing his last. He was so kind. Always the gentle father figure that anyone can rely on. I was not surprised when for the first time in my life, I saw Yuu crying silent tears. He stormed out of the room when he noticed he was crying. Allen ran after him and I followed soon after.

I shouldn't have.

I saw in plain view, around the small corner of a quiet part of the order, Allen took Kanda's hunched form into his arms. They cried while holding each other. I could hear bits and pieces of Allen's raspy voice carried over by the wind.

"I'm still here, Kanda. You still have me."

And they kissed each other through their tears. Kanda held on to Allen, and Allen him.

I cried, then.

I wondered why I never noticed it before. Allen Walker and Kanda Yuu… They both hide behind the pretense of hate and animosity. Yet, against all odds, they came to love each other. If it's not love, then I don't know what that that is.

I cried for General Sokaro.

I cried for General Tiedoll.

I cried for Allen and Kanda, who had to love each other in this time of calamity.

I cried for myself, for my heart had just been broken by two important people in my life. One is my good friend (though he will flat out deny it when said to his face), and one is my secret love.

Is this my punishment for caring when I was told many times not to?

I didn't cry for humanity.

Is this the punishment for that too?

- - - - - - - - - -


The Millennium Earl is getting more and more ruthless. We've taken down almost all of his loyal Noahs, though at the cost of countless on our side. I don't know what he's aiming for. I don't think the Earl knows it anymore too. It seems to me like he's destroying humanity just because he has the power.

But still, no one can explain why the crazy, unchanging face of the Millenium Earl had tears running down every once in a while. It was disturbing, and very much unnerving.

Allen came to visit me in the library. He was quiet and his eyes were tired. We haven't talked to each other since I walked in on him kissing Kanda in a secluded hallway. The kiss looked innocent from where I stood – just a small peck on each other's lips. But it broke the magic moment. Allen tried frantically to explain, but in the end it was Kanda who said the words.

But I've written about it earlier, haven't I?

He asked me if I'm disgusted about his relationship with Kanda.

I could only smile at him and told him I'm not.

I didn't say anything else, and he didn't ask. I didn't tell him I wasn't disgusted because I love him the way he loves Yuu.

I told him I didn't mind, but I didn't tell him it was okay.

- - - - - - - - - -


It rained today, and the water felt warm to my touch.

Like Allen's tears.

Or was it my tears?

I didn't know.

I don't know.

- - - - - - - - - -

A tragic story of a forbidden, unrequited love in time of the Great War.

That was what the boy thought he was reading. Everything was so private, so personal, so intimate. Despite feeling like he was breaching someone's privacy, he was silently taking note of the personality of this Destroyer of Time he had wanted to know since he first heard about it. But as he read more of the pages, he was sucked in by the author's point of view. It was like he was living the words in his heart. How could the author retain his neat handwriting when shaken by such excruciating swirls of emotions?

He wanted to know more. He would read the journal from the very beginning next time. But at present, he just wanted to know how it ended. What did the author write on the last page?

- - - - - - - - - -


We lost sweet darling Allen yesterday. It wasn't fair. It was not fair in the slightest. He saved the world so everyone will have a chance to live in a better world. He worked so hard that it hurt to see how hard he tried.

Yet, he didn't get to live in the world he so wanted to see.

It wasn't fair.

We lost Yuu too, but that was a week ago, and I've written about that too.

I've lost two people dearest to me. I've lost many before, but I can only think about the two of them now.

I didn't cry at first. I was too shocked to cry. But when I saw the jerk – no – General Cross Marian shed tears for the only disciple he ever had, the dam that had been keeping my tears in crumbled to pieces. I cried. And cried. And cried.

When Yuu died, Allen didn't sob. Tears fell down his face, but he didn't tremble.

Why am I writing about something I've written before?

Because as we headed back into the battlefield and left Yuu's cold body behind, he turned to me and smiled through his tears. And then he told me:

"I only wanted to love Kanda, though I know full well it's more than just wrong in the eyes of the world. I guess this heartbreak is one of my punishments."

I didn't say anything.

I regret not saying anything.

He went into battle feeling like he was betrayed by the entity he was fighting for, but I still didn't say anything.

I regret it now.

I just want to cry until I'm blind.

- - - - - - - - - - -


Today is the start of a new year. A year of hope, of peace, and the beginning of new lives.

I'm dying. It's not painful, because I can't feel anything anymore.

Lavi is going to die today, and I know it.

I can hear Gramps' footsteps approaching. He's going to kill me.

Because I cared too much.

Gramps is knocking on my door.

This is my end.


If I see Allen again, I want to tell him what he wanted to hear. What I should have said.

- - - - - - - - - - -

The young man stared at the last page for a long time before closing the book. For a moment, he did nothing but stare into the flickering flame in the fireplace. The rain was still heavy out there, and Bookman was not yet in either.

He sighed. He was suddenly scared to read the journal from the beginning, but he knew he would read it later nevertheless. There were gaps in bits of the entries that he had just read. He only wish he could stay as calm when he finally read every word written in the old book.

He opened the book again. The first page, this time around.

As the young Bookman apprentice flipped through more pages of the dusty old book, he couldn't help but notice how the handwriting of this boy called Lavi greatly resembled that of Bookman's himself.

Years later, when he would finally succeed Bookman, he would find a crumpled paper in the deceased man's journal. He would notice how the paper looked decades older than the journal, like it was torn from another older book. And then he would read what was written on the paper, and he would finally know the truth. And he would cry because of what was written on the crumpled piece of paper.

It's okay, Allen. As long as you're happy, it's okay.

He would cry for Bookman.

Above all, he would cry for Lavi – the boy who had to kill himself for caring too much.