Tenshi: Alrighty, first story on my newly replaced computer. It has Vista, which is yucky, but manageable. Not to mention I would have had to pay ten bucks to Niji thanks to a lovely little game called DARE POKER. Damn it all to hell.

By the way, I AM THE CUTENESS MASTER. Just letting you know.

WARNINGS: everything worth reading. But no smut. :B

Summary: Life as an exorcist was hectic. But life afterwards is worse. Yullen, etc.

Soundtrack: Smother me-The Used,

Consider it disclaimed.


Life, as an exorcist, and, more importantly, a general in the Black Order was complex, hectic, and chaotic, to say the very least. Especially if you're considered a traitor by the company you're working for. But, as Allen Walker came to find, living after all of this chaos, in the peaceful life of a law-abiding citizen, was much worse.

It was like his personality had been rejected-for that was what he was, something that had been depleted of it's usefulness as an accommodator and thrown out to the curb. He now had to make a living of his own, with no support from the Church he had risked his life for, and no chance whatsoever with his deformed arm and scarred appearance to ever get a decently paying job.

As Allen Walker also found out on one summer's eve, Kanda Yuu was also damned to the same fate of rejection.

He had simply showed up on his shanty little doorstep. He lived in the slums, naturally, as that was the only place where he would ever be accepted, amongst the other outcasts. Whores, Drug addicts and other such trash of society were his next door neighbours, and Kanda Yuu found him there, amidst the garbage, in his little house.

There wasn't any need for talk, it was simply settled that he was there, and that he was coming in, whether Allen wanted him there or no. He hadn't seen anyone from the Black Order since he was seventeen, and yet he hadn't even blinked an eye when he saw Kanda, and had simply stepped aside, letting the samurai in without as much as a question.

He hadn't hesitated, either, to feed him dinner, with the appearance that Kanda had. His hair was still the same as it had been all those years ago, up high and regal, but the rest of him had lost its prideful appearance. Bags under his eyes, frown lines on his forehead, though they were thin ('he'd always told him that if he kept frowning like that he'd get wrinkles'), and his eyes took on a weary look. Only in his mid twenties, and yet he was already tired of the world, of society.

Then again, it wasn't much better for Allen himself.

"Nice place." He'd said, though Allen knew that Kanda didn't really mean it. He'd thanked him and corrected him, ("No it's not."), and then Kanda looked at him with soul-piercing eyes. The same eyes, Allen thought mildly, that had frightened the Noah with a piercing glare. Eyes that seduced more than one of the Earl of Millennium's associates tot heir unavoidable, certain, death.

"It's good to see that you're alright."

The semi-albino had said it so lightly, not respecting an answer of a much more sincere calibre.

"I'm not alright. Neither are you. That's why we're here."

"I know."

They said no more of times and tragedies past, they said no more at all.

They didn't need to.


Allen had made him a makeshift bed on his couch in their little crooked house that wasn't quite a home. There was no question that the house was now also Kanda's. Everything that had once only belonged to Allen was now also Kanda's. Even Allen belonged to him.

Allen personally had no problem with this arrangement, because what had once been only Kanda's was now also Allen's, including Kanda himself.

They shared everything. No arguments, and most of all, no questions of 'Why?' or 'Why not?' They weren't needed, therefore, they weren't there.

Kanda brought home what little income he could working at various small jobs that weren't quite solid, but they paid enough to support them. Allen worked as a street performer, doing what little he could to put food on the table and their life flowing as steadily as possible, even though their lives together were naught more than a small trickle of water.

It worked, though, and it paid off, so there were no problems.


"I don't want to leave again. I don't want to be alone again."

These words were said one night at the dinner table, not, surprisingly, by Allen, but by Kanda. Over dinner, they often spoke of days gone by. They argued, some times over deep subjects of utmost importance to them; others of small things like politics and the weather.

Allen answered this with a look that told Kanda that he thought that the answer to this problem was the most obvious thing on the planet, but smiled.

"Then don't leave."

So he didn't.


The first time they'd kissed was on a cold winter's night.

It was an innocent bed-warming, as the chill of the thirty below outside crept in through the holes in their little home. Kanda could no longer sleep on the couch, as it was too close to the front door. He'd protected his and Allen's small little life that they shared together more than once against intruders, better than any watchdog that Allen could have ever purchased.

The icy winter was the end of all of that, though, no criminal would attack a home this tucked away in the dead of winter. Just as he'd arrived in Allen's home, he now ducked through the short doorway to Allen's bedroom without a word said, neither by Allen nor Kanda, as Allen budged over in half-sleep.

"I was cold," he explained, though it wasn't needed. He added, just for good measure, "I still am."

"Then stay here. I'm cold too, and you're warm." Allen mumbled into the pillow and turned over to face him blearily. "You're feet are like icicles, though, you know."

"I know."

After a moment's thought, just because it seemed like the right thing to do, Allen pecked him on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Kanda."

Kanda's lip twitched upwards, and he turned on his back and put his arms behind his head. "That was a wimpy kiss."

Allen scowled and wrinkled his nose.

"Well, how 'bout I kiss you proper, then?"


So he did.


The night Kanda finally told him about Mugen and the Lotus was the night that he and Allen also had sex. It was sometime in spring that Allen finally popped the question.

"Why did you take the lotus, Kanda?"

"A curse I had put on me when I was younger."

Allen had snorted at that, humourlessly, "Hypocrite."

Kanda just shrugged. There was no speaking for a few minutes until he figured out what to say next. "When the lotus dies, so do I."

"There's only one petal left."

He paused before sighing, "I know."

"You're going to die soon?"

The Asian man nodded slowly, not looking at Allen.

"It's alright," he said with his voice cracking, causing the samurai to look at him again. "So am I."

Kanda laughed, with even less humour than Allen's earlier snort. "Shall we go together, then?"

Allen nodded, "We'll go together."

Kanda had kissed him then, just because it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. It wasn't quite comfortable, nor was it loving and passionate, but then again, it was Kanda he was kissing.

So when Kanda pulled back and hesitated to kiss him again, Allen recognized it for what it was.

'Do you want it? Do you want me?'

"I love Yuu."

'I need you. I will, always.''


It was summer again, and the ocean crashed against the rocky cliffs in cool bursts of sea green and white froth.

They'd walked, shamelessly holding hands through the city, not caring who saw, or what happened to them. There would be persecution from the church, no doubt, but it didn't matter to them anymore. Today was the day; they could both feel it in their bones.

This was their day to die.

It was obvious to them, and to each other, though no one else could have understood. Allen had woken up with his innocence no more than a pile of dust and Kanda just looked at him from his cross-legged perch on the desk, and helped him pick up what was left.

Surely enough, when Allen looked, the single lotus petal trembled on an invisible wind and withered black and fell.

No words were needed. They just knew.

As they stood upon the rocky cliffs, they linked their hands together again.

Allen squeezed his hand in reassurance-there was no backing down from this. Not when they were the only ones left.

("We'll go together.")

"Let's go."

And they did.


A/N: Kay, yeah. Allen's innocence killed him, coz he's a parasitic type, and it was using up his life energy, yes? Not to mention that on their salaries there is NO WAY that they would be able to afford Allen's appetite. ;n;

I just thought…that I should explain my logic? D: