a/n: A really… odd one-shot that was inspired by a variety of quotes. I'm not sure whether or not I particularly like it, but I love this pairing and I haven't written anything for DGM since the summer. So here's something new!
warnings: hey look, het. also, angst. drama. character death.
DGM belongs to Hoshino Katsura. Lyrics © Itou Kanako, When the End.
when the end
but when the end comes, will it take it all away? sweeping our memories,
erasing time that we so much shared…
Lavi was a man of secrets; they were buried within the depths of his eye, etched into his skin in an array of pale scars. He held material that would get him murdered, quoted the past like it was his own memories. He wasn't immortal but concealed with sin, a million reasons to die and one to live; he shattered with truth when his layers were peeled away, but the bitter reality was far different from the confines and freedom of imagination.
Lenalee, however, burst with an innocence Lavi couldn't comprehend. She was fiercely loyal and passionate, hating the world but saving it at the same time; she jumped into the sky and found her wings, soaring above expectations but harboring the pain of a family she acquired through torture. She loved and lost and cared and cried, but most of all, she believed. In hope. In the future. In him.
But Lavi was afraid.
And Lenalee was slowly changing that.
"I can't save anyone," Lavi had said one day.
"I think you can save me."
He nearly cried from the finality of her words.
"You're awfully quiet today," Lenalee said softly, her hair falling over her shoulders and a smile lighting her features. Lavi smirked a bit, placing another piece of chocolate on his tongue, before running a hand through flaming hair and leaning against the stone wall.
"Just thinking," he replied, staring at nothing in particular. Lenalee hummed slightly, standing up so she was directly in front of the pouting exorcist. She leaned in close, smelling mint and chocolate and vanilla.
Lavi could smell strawberries.
They did this often, whenever they had a day to themselves. They'd sit in the forgotten corridor and reminisce about peaceful days and bloodless battles; about overbearing brothers before they were overworked or missions that lead nowhere.
"Everything. And nothing. It's difficult, you know?"
Lenalee laughed and Lavi thought it sounded beautiful; she pushed away from him to stand up and stretch, white dress flowing just above her knees. When she sat back down beside him, her voice carried to the corners of the walls, a tune from long ago.
Sometimes, when they sat in the forgotten corridor, Lenalee would sing a lullaby.
She chased away the demons tainted with nostalgia.
Their first kiss was clumsy and unpredictable, brought on by crashing coffee.
No one had been in the room at the time; Lenalee was leaving as Lavi was entering and they collided in a kaleidoscope of pure white and tinted green and it was only when they were on the ground in muffled laughter did they realize they were lip-locked.
It was terrifying. Exciting.
Neither wanted to part.
When footsteps rang down the hallway, they scattered away from each other with deep blushes. When Lenalee bid farewell, she left with a smile gracing her lips and a rather fulfilled feeling in the pit of her stomach but still wanting more.
Lavi stood dumbstruck before a giddy smirk lifted the corners of his mouth, touching his lips gently and feeling a butterfly run through his veins. It was gloriously wonderful.
After that, they couldn't get enough.
The mission had been devastating and they had lost fifteen finders.
Timothy was missing.
Lenalee had a swollen lip and a sprained wrist; Lavi was suffering from a concussion and he had nearly forgotten who Lenalee was when she had stepped into the hospital room. She had been anguished with guilt but only smiled through her tears, placing a hand in his. Four days later, he was healed and his memory was rejuvenated; five days after his recovery, Lenalee found him in the forgotten corridor, knees brought up to a green-covered chest and trembling shoulders.
"Lavi, what's wrong?" she asked quietly, kneeling in front of him. He didn't move, just sniffed once and fell silent once again. "Lavi…"
"This isn't right," he muttered finally, lifting his head just the tiniest amount to glimpse at the floor. He caught sight of black rather than white. "I'm a bookman, not an exorcist. I can't be involved with anything personal."
Lenalee thought she understood. But as she looked into his emerald eye, she realized she understood very little, and it was slowly tearing them inside out.
"But you are," she stated, hair falling into her stinging eyes. Lavi nodded wordlessly, drawing circles on the ground with a finger. "And you shouldn't be. But that's okay."
He found himself desperately wanting to hear the lullaby.
"Can you… sing? Once more?"
Lenalee nodded, and as he grabbed one of her shaking hands and pulled her down, her voice broke the tension, cutting it smoothly and effortlessly.
They fell asleep against the wall with sin.
Lavi was slowly going insane.
Bookman was already making plans to leave the Order, to leave behind everything and anything that tied them to a place they couldn't have been connected to; Lavi should have been prepared, should have expected that the day would come when he'd have to say goodbye to another name. But somewhere along the way, he was born into a world of emotions and a concept of caring; somewhere along the way, the mask he had worked so hard to create had cracked and fumbled, falling apart with not-so-perfect kisses and shattering with gentle touches.
Somewhere along the way, Lavi learned how to live.
And he wasn't ready to leave it behind.
"We have our next mission together!" Lenalee clapped happily, grabbing his hands and laughing. The late summer sun shone on the open field. "Timothy was supposed to join us but he's going with Allen and Kanda instead."
Lavi tried to bring himself to smile (when had it become so hard?) but only managed a tiny grimace.
Lenalee had learned to read him.
"What's the matter?" she asked delicately, leading him over to a bench. The air was warm, ruffling their uniforms and letting the grass and leaves sway.
I won't be coming back.
Lenalee waited patiently.
This is it, Lena. We can't be together. At all. I'm sorry.
"…It's nothing," he eventually replied, smiling a bit more gently. Lenalee didn't buy it, but she settled with nodding anyways, knowing he'd come to her with the truth eventually.
Lavi couldn't express his gratitude and appreciation for that one simple movement, so he settled with a kiss.
In the end, he couldn't say anything.
The stars were crying.
That's what it looked like as his head rested against the broken stone, soft grass tickling the bruised flesh of his legs through the rips in his white pants. It was warm, surprisingly. Comfortable. Amongst the pounding pain in his body, the mounting ache in his bones, he still felt at ease, watching the sky fade into a midnight blue and the moon a shimmering reflection in the nearby pond. It rippled once from the insect before falling still once again.
There was a body overtop of his own.
"Lavi, you can't die," it said, cuddling into his chest. His heartbeat was erratic from the touch and as light fingers dusted over his cheeks, trailing sadness and sorrow, desperate, he found that his eyes were slowly closing.
"You need to save me, remember?"
"Lena…" he said brokenly, coughing harshly. Something wet dotted his cheeks. "So…rry…"
Lenalee began crying harder, brushing away flaming strands from a bloody forehead. Harsh panting permeated the quiet night, echoing tragedy with every breath of wind. She wasn't wearing purely white, or shadowed black, but rather it an assortment of both.
"You can't die, Lavi, Bookman needs you and Allen needs you and even Kanda needs you damn it, don't die, I need you!"
He felt a pressure on his hand. The numbness gradually took over his body until he felt little else except the tenderness leaning over his dying frame. He thought Lenalee was beautiful, even covered in cuts and gashes and broken skin.
His eyes rolled upwards, trying to gain some sense of time or bearing, a sense of reality that had already slipped between his fingers.
"What is it?"
She was so silent, whispering.
She placed a gentle kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his lips. He tried to react but the darkness grew, obscuring his vision into something akin to an abyss; a dark, dark hole he was destined to fall in.
Sorry, Bookman. I didn't mean for this to happen.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying herself into the confines of his flesh.
"…I love you…"
It figured, he thought ironically, that it would be in death he could speak the words dancing on the top of his tongue.
"I love you too."
And in that moment, Lenalee's world shattered.