Out of Touch
Title has nothing to do with anything. Just a 80s song I was listening to that got stuck in my head.
For Momosportif and Sarahfreak's contest. It looked rad, so I went "Hey, why not" and got about to doing it as soon as I…well, I got the time.
"Try not to step on that newspaper!"
"Which one?!" Allen demanded. "The floor is swamped with the blasted newspapers! And so are the walls! Wait, are those skis?" He had an urge to rub his temples at the oncoming headache.
"New York Times, issue 21, page 7," Lavi replied, hopping over to the younger teenager. "It's got a small picture of the Tweed family from New York town hall." He grinned, picking up the newspaper itself. "I've got to keep these kinds of things together, sprout. And no, those aren't skis, it's my chair."
The white-haired boy rolled his eyes with a smile as he moved towards the already full box, filled to the top with nothing but more newspapers. "My name is Allen," he retorted. He narrowly dodged a falling miniature mountain of papers. "I'd never imagine living in a mess like this," he commented, dumping the newspapers in.
Lavi snorted. "I've seen what you live in, and believe me when I say I'd rather fall off a cliff," he replied. "Besides, I can't imagine myself not living in this. You just don't know what you're missing."
Allen huffed, trying to straighten up the pile that fell. "You just might have the most disorderly room in the Black Order," he muttered, shaking his head.
"And? You have the creepiest."
"So don't knock it 'till you've tried it."
Allen hummed in response, shrugging. He looked up at the ceiling. "Are there newspapers sticking to your ceiling?" he asked incredulously.
The redhead looked at the ceiling, noticing several newspapers stuck to the white plaster above. His green eye squinted as he tried to read the text.
"Oh!" he gasped. "It's the Munich Wachposten! Third issue, talked about nothing but 1872 and the best Oktoberfestbier. Wild story, that one was." He laughed, crossing his arms.
"You…You…" Allen sighed, grinning. "You're going to make the best Bookman ever."
"Thanks Al," Lavi replied cheerfully. "And you shouldn't make another move."
The British exorcist looked over at him, arm extended to a random newspaper on the wall. "What?" he asked in an offensive tone, bringing his arm back. The forearm brushed against a more mountainous pile of papers, which toppled down upon them in a pseudo-flood.
"I told you not to move!" the Bookman-apprentice chided, head poking out the sea of newspapers. He looked around. "Allen? Where'd you go?"
Allen's arm grabbed the bunk bed on the side of the room, the teenager surfacing. "I think I got a paper cut on my arse," he grumbled, standing up and brushing off his collar shirt. He tried sitting on the bed, but yelped. "Are there books all over this thing?" he cried.
"You should try the old panda's bed. He keeps it clean all the time."
"That's your bed?"
"Yep." Lavi slowly waded through the papers, wincing. "Shit, I think I got a paper cut on my ass."
"Serves you right." Allen huffed. "Why is this room so messy anyway?"
The redhead paused, blinking. "Huh, that's a great question," he mused. "I guess because I love this room."
The cursed exorcist stared at him. "Are you going to explain why…?" he asked, leaning against the bedpost.
Lavi laughed. "Right, right. Explanation." He scratched his chin. "I can't help but love this room. It's covered with everything I love after all."
The redhead shook his head. "C'mon Al, look around," he replied. He waved towards the walls. "It's not just newspapers and magazines. It's got pages of books that were exceptionally memorable, strips of Johnny's comics that I got when he wasn't looking, letters, pages of the dictionary. It's a history book without the book, get it?" He flashed a quirky smile.
Allen cocked an eyebrow. "And the ceiling?"
"That was an accident. Panda-bear kicks my ass sky high on a daily basis. I guess those must've ended up there when I made the accident of writing my notes on his face in his sleep." The one-eyed exorcist laughed at the memory.
The younger teen decided that he didn't even want to know what made them stick up there.
"But now I'll have a new room, at the new headquarters." Lavi continued, sighing. "So I've got to leave this one at some point."
"And?" Allen retorted, rolling his eyes. "Why can't you just take all these papers with you?"
Lavi looked contemplative. "Nah," he answered. "I won't."
"Well…" the redhead kicked at the papers surrounding his ankles. "I'll just start a new collection. I mean, it is a new room at a new headquarters, so it'll be like turning a page to a new chapter of history." He smiled at Allen. "But I'll take a few of these, just to remind me of where we used to be."
Allen nodded, arms crossed. "Although, if you do spontaneously decide to take all these papers, you're getting Kanda to help you because paper cuts really do bloody hurt." He rubbed the underside of his thigh, offended.
Lavi snorted. "If you can't stand this mess of a room, what makes you think Kanda will?"
"That is a great point."
Bad ending is bad, but awesome contest is fuckin' awesome.
H'okay, now I feel accomplished. Although I almost changed the title to (Keep Feeling) Fascination, because that song got stuck in my head too. I've been playing GTA: Vice City, sue me.
(I'm currently pretending this fic is Lavi/Allen, but it's obviously a friendship fic.)