Title: Tangled. (Did I say I suck at titling? No? I'm sorry, but I do. Just—the title doesn't have anything to do with—anything. I'm serious.)
Author: isumi'kivic' and Ilde
Pairings: Absolute Yullen, slight LaviLena.
Warnings: OOC-ness, jumbled thoughts and paragraphs, Character-deaths (uh-huh, plural) and other blah-blah-blah that tell you: "This fic is crappy, you might want to turn back now or face the risk."
Beta: Saphira112 and a1y-puff
Disclaimer: I don't own DGM, Yullen own each other, and I make no money out of this so please no sue?
A/N: To dearest a1y-puff, because I kept babbling to my friends about how happy I am to have her. And because she keeps telling me to write Yullen. xDDDD Dear Oneesan, I love you, I'm sorry for being impossible to reach lately, and I want a doodle, please? –dibuang-
A D. Gray-man Fanfiction
Love never solved problems.
It was a mutual feeling that they both knew and felt, but never thought to say out loud. What for? Those three words never solved anything—they usually made things more complicated, and neither Kanda nor Allen liked complicity.
How did they know about love, you asked? Because contrary to what people usually tended to believe, they were not that dense. Yes, they were stupid, as Lenalee would often say, but that came in a package of being boys.
It was there, when Allen would automatically place himself by Kanda's side most of the time they were off for a mission—a subtle, unspoken "I would appreciate it if you'd keep your distance, please. Just saying, but Kanda bites—only me, usually; so I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much."
It was there when Kanda let Allen sit next to or before him at breakfast—who knew, with the way Allen inhaled his food, his death might not be caused by Akuma or Noah or his stupid Innocence sapping his life away—but instead, by choking. In that case, he needed to be close by, since he was the only one who could punch Allen's stomach hard enough so that the offending piece of food would come off his respiratory system. After all, a dead Allen sounded worse than a fake-smiling Allen.
It was there when they sparred; giving each other their best, because holding back meant risking losing the other over a random Akuma attack.
It was here, when they fought their way together through hordes of Akuma now—hours after hours after hours until they lost count of it; one eye keeping track of the other's movements and the other never leaving the grotesque shapes they had to slay; knowing where to move and when to rush in a wonderful combination of a dance and sheer desperation to stay alive—for their own, for each other.
This would be the last. The last battle, the last hope to win for the humanity, the last endless sprint.
Every day, before they jumped into the tray that could mean their death, Kanda would seize Allen's hand and crush their lips together. Allen would claw on his uniform, retaliating with as much fervor as they kept their lips locked and tongues battling for a few moments, before pulling back breathlessly and running forward to the battlefield.
"This is how our relationship has always been," Allen once said—knuckles stinging from where it had collided with Kanda's cheek—because that was the only way he knew to keep him alive. It was just like he knew that, when Kanda had nearly chopped his head off with Mugen in order to snap him out of the Fourteenth's control, it was the only way Kanda knew to keep him alive. And while it might sound unbelievable and sick to some people, it kept their hearts beating for each other.
The romantic girl in Lenalee sighed in disappointment, because a relationship should be made of holding hands and embraces and tender kisses. After all, love was all about gentleness and taking good care of the person who was of most importance to you. But Kanda nearly never knew what 'gentleness' was, and Allen never once complained about the rough kisses he gave seconds before they jumped into the endless battle facing the Earl's army that reeked of death and despair. The mother in Lenalee smiled and understood—because for them, who lived and breathed the battlefield, the most effective way they knew to convey their innermost emotions was through violence.
Perhaps it was why then, that Lavi laughed in the midst of battle—slashing left and right and moving half by instinct and half by calculation—when the Earl's voice suddenly reverberated, drowning the sounds of shrieking Akuma as Innocence wove their way through; words claiming ownership and love to the Noah family, and a plea for the Fourteenth to come back because he loved him, he really did—and Lavi's own voice easily rose up to match it, tinkling with amusement and laughter, telling the Earl that maybe he needed some romance advice from Kanda and Allen, just because.
The rough kisses grounded Allen in many ways—the tingling sensation that was left on his lips took a bit longer to fade and it reminded him that he was still alive—still Allen—when instincts started to take over his movements in the battlefield. It was even better if Kanda bit his lips until they bled, because then it'd sting even as he danced into a mob of Akuma, listening to the voices of pitiful souls begging to be released—that strikingly reminded him of Alma Karma and the woman who was so very important to Kanda. But he could taste his own blood and remembered that it was Kanda who made his lips bleed, and then he'd truly smile and decided that the present was what mattered, and he was Kanda's 'present' and so he couldn't die yet.
It was as close to jealousy as he could get with such a predicament, Allen thought by the end of the day when Lavi replaced his position on the battlefield and he took a hurried rest. Somewhat, he knew he was glad to be able to feel such a humane emotion, especially because the place he and his friends were standing on left him doubting whether they still could be called humans, or had degraded themselves into beings like animals who depended only on instincts, for the sake of the rest of the world.
"It's today or not at all," Komui said with a blank face on the fifth day of the endless battle—gentle eyes never leaving the worn-out warriors before him. They had managed to fight their way through almost three-quarters of the Akuma, killed three of the Noahs, and all that was left was to break through the Earl's last wall of defense. No one came out of the five-day fighting unscathed—except Kanda, but God only knew how many times he'd regenerated and Allen certainly didn't want to think about it—and none of them even had the energy to cry, whether in pain or in grief. Not even Timothy's death—which had Miranda and Lenalee spending half an hour dry-sobbing on the poor boy's cold body, but no tears came out. They simply didn't have the energy for that.
Allen asked Kanda where he kept his lotus—just to be sure that the last petal had not fallen yet because "We'll be in trouble if you died even before we reached the Earl, BaKanda," but Kanda snorted, bent down and crushed their lips, biting savagely until his lower lip bled and Allen winced before biting Kanda's own back until he could taste Kanda's blood. It'd heal in no time, but it didn't matter. Because Kanda hissed and Allen knew—it took longer for the sting to fade.
One step before the last horde of Akuma, Kanda turned to him, scowled and said, "I didn't want to do this."
And then Kanda's lips were on him again—oddly gentle—moving softly against his own before lapping at the blood still left form their previous kiss. It tickled, Allen thought, pulling back and let his hand tangle itself in the silky dark strands that was Kanda's hair, running his fingers through in one smooth movement because even after a nonstop five-day battle, Kanda still managed to keep his hair perfect. There was an odd warmth flooding his chest as Kanda's lips moved to his jaw, up to his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, eyebrows, forehead—down again to the corner of his cursed eye; and then—
"You need to get just a bit taller, Beansprout."
For some reason, Allen felt sad.
—and then it was all slashing and thrusting his Innocence through the Akuma rounding him—Kanda was out of his vision range in seconds—as instincts slowly took over and adrenaline dulled the pain he should have felt from all the injuries. But the warmth in his chest didn't fade—not yet—even though it tingled with a sense of sadness, as if he was letting go of something important, as if the hope he was fighting for humanity no longer meant anything to him, as if—
He knew why Kanda didn't want to do it.
The first tear fell, and much more followed.
The Fourteenth roared in victory as his Crown Clown ripped open the Earl's chest, drowning Rhode's anguished screech, as the Earl's head rolled to a stop next to his feet—and it was over.
Kanda didn't come back.
Lenalee was hysteric, half-sobbing and half-screaming in Lavi's arms when they brought Komui's body in—face frozen in pain—and lined his body next to Miranda's. Krory was shaking so bad it was a miracle he didn't just topple over Bookman's body—Lavi had covered his 'grandfather' with a white cloth properly when Allen came in, so he couldn't see what Bookman's last expression was like. It took four doses of tranquilizer before Lenalee stopped screaming, and Lavi exploded when they were about to give her the fifth shot. Her face was paler than the white cloth that covered Bookman, her eyes wide with terror and denial, and Allen wondered absently if Lenalee would ever smile again. They won the hope for a price—a cheap one perhaps, for humanity's eyes, but too expensive for them.
They never brought Kanda in.
Allen went out with Lavi's watchful eye following, his arms still around an unconscious Lenalee. He staggered through heaps of dead Akuma, smelling blood and desperation and death; and he ran, feeling like something was chasing him from behind, and then abruptly, he stopped and threw up.
It was ridiculous.
He found Kanda not far from where he'd killed the Earl, and Allen wasn't at all surprised to find him before a huge rock in the middle of amass of dead Akuma—unmoving, pale, and not breathing. He knelt before the bloodied figure of his—his what? Friend? Boyfriend? Arch-enemy?—and took a deep breath before gathering Kanda's body into his arms and propping him up on the rock. His lower lip still stung, and it was stupid; stupid because of all things they could have done before the battle, Kanda had the chance to say goodbye to him. As if he'd known that he'd die.
Stupid, stupid, idiot Kanda.
A soft sigh escaped Allen's lips—the warmth in his chest long gone, replaced by sheer coldness that felt like freezing his very heart—as he took in the blood-spattered figure before him. His uniform was torn in shreds, allowing Allen to see the open gash across his chest and stomach, not oozing blood anymore—not like it would with a pulse behind it. His face was white, lips turning blue and eyes not fully closed—leaving a sliver of dark, unseeing orbs beneath his eyelids. His hair was matted with dried blood; dark red blending into black and made it impossible to distinguish the color. Mugen was nowhere to be seen, though the gash on Kanda's left chest seemed to be left by a sword, and Allen suspected that in the end, Mugen was what had ended Kanda's life. Ironically so.
No, he wasn't surprised that Kanda died.
After all, if he was alive, he would have been back to the headquarters even before they brought Komui in.
Allen threw his gaze up the sky with an exhausted sigh, shaking his head. His chest felt like a jumble of emotions overlapping each other and it was cold. Like Kanda's hand in his—when did he even start to hold it?—and he chuckled humorlessly, turning back to the person that had become so important in his life, the person he had lost in order for him to win the slightest hope for humanity.
If this was the price Fate wanted from him, then he couldn't do anything.
"You," he said instead, "really are an idiot, BaKanda."
He leaned over the lifeless figure of his friend, let his breath warmed Kanda's frozen cheek, closed his eyes and pressed his lips on Kanda's.
Eyelashes fluttered, tickling his cheek.
And then a soft, warm breath blew on his nose.
Allen pulled back in time to avoid a bloody cough that wrecked Kanda's body, eyes wide in disbelief as the figure before him trembled in pain, and hacking and wheezing for several moments until oxygen no longer avoided his lungs. Allen could practically heard Kanda's lungs desperately wheezed for air, leaving their owner panting and gasping painfully, and then he realized that his heart was pounding madly.
Nearly a lifetime later, Kanda rasped, "Beansprout."
"What the heck," Allen said, slowly, "are you doing?"
Kanda just looked at him. "Trying to breathe." He panted out, and let out another bloodied cough.
"This isn't a fairy tale," Allen deadpanned. "What are you doing, waking up to a kiss?"(1)
Kanda seemed to stop for a second. "Huh." He breathed out harshly. "Thought I felt you."
Allen laughed, his voice gaining a thick edge of hysteria. "Felt me, you say? Felt me. That's good." His voice rose, truly hysterical, and Kanda's eyes were looking at him oddly, but he could care less. "Felt me. Fine."
Kanda's hand found the back of his head, and then he was falling forward until his forehead thumped Kanda's shoulder. Kanda's fingers were gripping his hair too tightly that it hurt, but Allen just laughed again, high-pitched and out of control, giddy from the flood of relief that threatened to drown his very existence. Kanda's jaw felt too solid on the top of his head, moving as the former tried to suck more air into his lungs, but again, Allen could care less.
"I told you it'd be troublesome if you died before the Earl did!" Allen exclaimed, still laughing, and he thought he was going crazy. But Kanda's grip on his hair only tightened—and somewhat, it was a comfort. "I told you! Hah!"
"Beansprout." Kanda growled breathlessly. "You need... to shut the fuck up."
His whole body was trembling, Allen realized, but he was still laughing. "Sure." It came out as a sob, and Allen wondered when he started sobbing. "Sure." His tears were mixing with Kanda's blood—his voice still sounded like he was madly shrieking, and he was laughing and crying at the same time. The world must have gone crazy.
But he was alive—Kanda was alive—and for once, love solved a problem.
(1) This quote was taken directly from a BL manga 'Love Mode' by Yuki Shimizu—I don't own it. I just—that quote had been stuck in my head for ages. I give up fighting it, so I used it. :p
Wheeee-my first somewhat-angsty DGM fic. xD I was going to kill Kanda off at the end, but then Allen kind of popped in my head and said "I want to say that stupid line that's been bugging you for a long time, so let him live." And I was like, "Ohay, that works with me." :|
Dearest Oneesan, surprise? xDDDD Thank you for spoiling me. 3
Reviews are loved, constructive criticisms are much more loved, and flames would be collected to be sent to North and South Pole and ababil. So don't flame if you don't want more icebergs melting—it's bad enough as it is. :] Thank you for reading! xD