And here's the beginning of another story.
Full Summary: Lavi had always been different, but no one save a few new just how different. He could see ghosts, but he knew how to ignore them. But that all changed when he met a very peculiar one. This ghost, he could not see it's face. All he knew was that they talked every time it rained after school, and something about this ghost was different, he could not place it. But after said Ghost asks for help, Lavi finds himself in the strangest place he's ever been, nervous, anxious, stuttering, desperate to make sure this one ghost, out of the millions he'd seen, got it's "rest in peace." However how badly did he really want that?
Pairing: Kanda/Lavi. Honestly, this could be seen as a friendship story, minus later events. You know, those filler chapters |D
I do not own any of the characters, nor do i claim too. So i hope you enjoy the story.
It happened every time the wind blew and the rain pounded against the barren sidewalks and quiet houses. This phenomenon occurred every time the sky turned dark and lifeless leaves were blow in a frenzy of foreshowed doom. Each time when it started as a drizzle, with the wind blowing everything lose and wild and free, whatever this was came about.
This simple occurrence.
It never mattered the time of day, the month, or the season. Whenever a small drizzle drowned out into a storm and the wind blew wildly the leaves from the trees, the sky took on a deep and ominous color, and all noises ceased to exist except the beating of my heart. It happened.
That same bench, that same park, that same lamp post. Not one thing would differ when this dream happened. No, it's not a dream. It's real. Words are exchanged, nods, glances, but never the slightest touch. Never once will I ask why, I know why, but I won't bring myself to acknowledge why. All I would acknowledge is that if anyone saw me, they'd stare. Their minds couldn't process the dream I saw. They only saw me, and to them, my all seeing eye was crazy and unnatural. They would never know how real it all was; how surrounded we all are.
The weather was perfect as I stepped out of my last class. I could hear the booming of the thunder and the shing of the lightning piercing through the sky like a bullet. I hid whatever excitement my heart was feeling as I quickly packed up for the day. I had homework, but that didn't matter. With my guardian believing that I had some after school activity today, I could have all the time in the world to do my homework when I got to the park. That park.
Lugging my Calculus book filled backpack out the main door, my feet sped themselves up. The drizzle was already beginning, and I knew, as did my ever moving feet, storms never lasted too long.
As my legs carried me, I felt the all too familiar and annoying buzz in my back left pocket. Almost as if I hadn't realized it, I'd fished my buzzing phone from its container and began to text. My grandfather was doing what he did every day, just confirming my academics and plans for after school. Sometimes I told him I had meetings, other times I told him I was going to a friend's house, and on rare occasions I would just go home. But this was rain country, it wasn't usual for there to be a bright and sunny day more than twice in a week.
My single eye widened as its emerald color fell upon the park. So old and so abandoned, this was my destination. Every time I past it I felt as it was torn straight from the books of a horror movie. The swings and the teeter totters moving on their own, the benches old and moldy, the lamppost light flickering, and the gazebo. That old piece of nothingness was where my eye was always drawn. Sometimes I was lucky and other times I wasn't. Today, after just acing my Calculus test, must've been my lucky day.
Mud was already gushing from the grass as I made my way through the pouring rain to the gazebo. It still wouldn't be the ideal place to do my homework hence the holes in the roof, but I could find a dry spot to sit I was sure.
I wouldn't smile when I confirmed that today was my lucky day. I only set my book bag on a dry part of the concrete and sat down beside it. The figure on the bench looked down at me.
"You're wet," it said.
I nodded, "Raining."
It nodded, its shrouded head turning back away from me.
"Who are you?" I'd been dying to ask that question for a month now, but only now did it seem I had the courage to let the words flow from my mouth as easily as the answer to a question, only this time I asked one.
The head turned back to me, "Who am I? Strange question," Was its answer. Its skilled midnight eyes watched as I flipped through the large book and my notebook. With a pencil and a calculator in my hand, I started my homework as I spoke.
"It's not strange, I want to know. I see you every rain storm, yet I don't know you at all. I've barely scratched the surface," I replied to it in a stolid tone, my pencil moving swiftly across the narrow lined paper.
Its laugh was cold and dry, "Tell me what you know then."
I knew it was playing with me, but nonetheless I knew I had to answer.
"I know you're dead. You can't hide that from me," my voice was smooth and unwavering. I knew what I could do; I didn't need to be afraid.
A scoff. "Dead. Lovely choice of vocab," its word was shortened. I could only infer from things like this.
I shrugged and answered yet another problem, "That's all I know."
I finally torn my eye away from the notebook to watch the figure above me remove the hood of the clearly battered sweatshirt. My eye could only blink as I saw that long dark pony-tail fall out and the matching bangs cover a pale forehead and the long strands of hair that almost obscured the ears from sight.
Those unblinking eyes of the figure before me were dark as night or the sky from which the rain fell. They were small and sort of slanted; I could only guess that this phantom wasn't American. All the rest I could see was the slender neck surrounded by a holed hood. A slightly, not actually noticeably, pointed chin was leaned against the smooth palm of that pale hand as the slender fingers curved over just to have the long nails beat against the chin.
"Thanks for staring," it said. Only then did I realize how long I'd looked at it with my questioning look.
"I-I'm sorry," I sputtered out, bowing my head down.
"If we're playing 20 questions, I get to ask you one," its thin mouth moved with caution.
"What's your name? I don't care about a last or middle," it made it frank what it wanted.
"Lavi," I replied, my eye purposely glued to the number filled pages of my book.
"My name is Kanda," it answered as if it knew that was my next question.
"U-um o-ok…" my usually smooth handwriting became somewhat shaky and messy.
"I'm not just dead you know," its eyes finally drifted to my bowed head. I could feel the cold and uncaring stare. "I was murdered…"
My head shot up, "M-Murdered?" I stuttered out the word as if my mind couldn't process a meaning for the two-syllables placed before me.
It nodded and let its hand fall from its face. As if it was carried by air and nothing else, it stood and came over to me, kneeling in front of me. I knew it wanted to speak to me, but those eyes were wandering about the books in my lap. I could only guess this sort of knowledge could not be found within the spirit.
It looked at me then, "Help me," the whisper was so quiet I could barely hear it. But as the thunder strode back in, the wind carried the non-audible words to my ear for me and only me to hear. It wasn't an order; it was a plea for something it believed I was able to give.
My eyes widened and I looked up. I knew those eyes to be stolid, but now they seemed to want to dart around as if in search of something they could never find. It was unbearable to watch, but I held my breath in wait for the next words.
"Help me," the whisper was yet again quiet, yet it sounded as a moan.
"I will," my mouth moved and the words came out, but I still stared into those midnight eyes as if I wasn't aware what I'd said to this phantom.
A smile found a home on the pale face before me. From the corner of my eye I could see a hand twitching as if its own mind wanted it to reach out for me. "Kanda's" will power was strong though, I could sense it…h-he wouldn't be taken over by such mediocre things.
He was carried away from me and placed on the bench as the air blew again. He had returned to his original position, those again stolid eyes staring off into the distance. I longed to know what a phantom, a ghost, would see when its eyes wandered.
"What do you see?" I asked Kanda unconsciously as I stashed my finished homework in my bag.
"What do you see?" he mimicked, pointing to where he was staring. I took a seat on the bench, letting the rain patter against my red hair, and followed the finger.
"I see…" I had to squint, "more."
He nodded, "And that's what I see."
More. I'd always just said more if anything ever asked me what I saw. Never had I felt comfortable saying ghosts, or spirits, or phantoms around them. I always said more, and they always understood. That's what they saw.
"You're getting wet," he said as he turned to look at me.
I shrugged, "I'm used to it by now. You only ever show yourself at these times…rain," my eye adverted itself so it didn't have to see the specter beside me.
A smirk rested on his face. A smirk, how strange indeed it was to see a smirk on that face. "Never again," was all he said before turning back to his stare.
What did he mean? Was he never going to appear? Was he not going to appear only during these rainstorms? My overworked brain threw question after question after question at me. I could answer none and would not dare open my mouth to repeat them.
"You should get home," Kanda said to end the silence. His voice sounded only a mere second before my phone began to buzz in my pocket.
"What about you…?" I asked, still unaware of myself.
"No need to worry," He stood up and began to walk ever so softly to the edge of the gazebo. I knew he didn't say anything, but as the wind picked up again I could hear his worlds echo around me.
I shook my head as in a sad attempt to get those words out of my head. Those pleas for help. That plea that I had answered. He was the first I had ever agreed to help out of all the spirits who wished for it. He was the first and he would be the only.
I didn't know why I thought that. But the next thing I knew, he was gone and I was walking down the rain soaked street in my rain soaked clothes with rain still pounding down towards home.
The lights being off in my home wasn't surprising. My grandfather had obviously left and that's what his text was about. But I couldn't bring myself to care. I opened the front door slowly after I unlocked it. Cautiously, like my floor could brake if I stepped wrong, I made my way to the stairs as well as up them. My room lay not too far from them; I could make it even with my cautious footsteps.
My heart jumped and my voice screamed as I opened my door. The sight before me shocked me into backing against my door, my hand clutching my wet school uniform. Kanda was leisurely lying on my bed. Somehow he was no longer wearing that sweatshirt, instead a sort of a tank-top shirt and a light jacket. Both still seemed battered and beaten.
His eye, one eye only, looked to the side at me.
"You said you'd help me," he replied, uncaring, "now you can't go back on your word."
I nodded and sat on my bed.
"You're wet," he replied, his floating hands going up to his eyes. I could've laughed it I wasn't in such a hurry to get on some warm dry clothes before he dropped his hands.
Help me. Help me. Help me. I would help him, and I couldn't go against my own judgment now as I looked upon a ghost who seemed to be asleep, still whispering once sentence in a plea. Help me.
And the first chapter is down. I hope you liked it |D
Please feel free to leave a review, tell your friends. I would greatly appreciate it