Yullen Week! lolz, enough said.



Never once.

Never once in my life did I have a say in what happens in my life.

Never once have I ever gotten to do what I wanted to.

Never once have I ever been able to object.

Never once could I go against what THEY wanted for me.

Not until now.

Now, I would decide what happened to me, what happened in my life. Or well, what was left of it anyway. I'd choose my own path and they wouldn't be able to say shit about it. I'd make them watch helplessly on the news when someone found my body in the morning, just there in the red painted snow.

I can already feel it, my life slipping away, draining into a black oblivion. But, I don't think it's supposed to have hints of blue. And I don't think it's supposed to be surrounded by a face that looked like it was carved out by the gods of this world, surrounded by long dark hair. With the stars and trees blocking out the city lights in the background, he looked like a dark angel. Maybe he's the one sent to take me away. Or maybe he's here to punish my soulless self for committing suicide - because surely I must be dead by now.

"Oi. Oi!" His voice is sharp, commanding, and I almost answer. But I'm so tired and I just want to sleep now, never wake up.

And almost as if the heavens are smiling at me, I finally do lose consciousness.





I'd always found Allen Walker to be a curious piece of work. He was always smiling, always the innocent boy who everyone loved and wanted. But I could tell, there was something else going on with him, something darker that followed him as closely as a shadow on a sunny day. Personally, I didn't really care, having only wanted to know what made a boy of only sixteen have to hide behind a mask. I wonder how many noticed the cracks, the fissures that appeared more and more every time he went on stage for a concert.

Piano prodigy my ass. He was just a kid who'd been thrown into a world he wasn't ready for.

That's probably why I found him the way I had, broken and bloody in the freshly fallen snow one week before Christmas. His eyes were glossy, his life barely there. He'd slit his own wrists, making as many deep cuts on his arms as he could, ensuring he'd die from blood loss.

What a dramatic way to off yourself.

I almost contemplated leaving him, just walking away and maybe, seeing as I was in a giving mood, call an ambulance. But naturally, that pesky thing in my head called a conscience forced me to help. Really, it was just another burden. But too late now I guess.

His wrists weren't easy to bandage, needing to be handled with care yet with enough pressure to stop the bleeding and allow the kid at least a minuscule chance. When the task was done, I was surprised to find the kid rather light despite all I hear about him being a bottomless pit. Maybe the rumors weren't true. Either way that concerned me almost as much as the amount of red that had bled onto the snow.

Tch, look at me, concerned like I was human. Hilarious. Fuck what kind of softie was I becoming?

"Tch. Baka Moyashi." I muttered, adjusting my burden before trudging the same way I was walking earlier. Stupid rabbit stealing my car and parking it outside his boyfriend's apartment then getting a ride home. How dare he leave my car all alone in the city.

It doesn't take that long to get to the black Camaro, which is thankfully unharmed. If something had happened to it, well, let's just say they wouldn't ever find any trace of the redhead.

With a sigh, I unlocked the car and placed the brat in the back, laying him across the seats.

"Stupid brat causing trouble for me." I muttered, the usual scowl settling on my face. "Fucking wonderful."

Maybe I was just a little rough when putting the keys in the ignition. My poor car.

Maybe this kid was meant to die. I say this because every damn light we hit on the way to the hospital turns red just before I get to it, or is already red. And it was seriously testing my patience in a way that my many years of training were almost useless. So with a great deal of stress release known in some places as swearing, I took the kid back to my place. As tempted as I was to just leave him on the floor to save my couch from being dirtied, I didn't want to have to keep bending down to dress his wounds. After doing that, I hunted down things to get his blood pressure back up.






I wasn't supposed to wake up. But that was exactly what I did. And just my luck, a stranger's couch no less. Said stranger turned out to be the same dark haired man I'd seen at the park.

"About fucking time you wake up, Moyashi." Said the man as he walked into the room carrying a can of ginger ale and a bowl of soup.

"How eloquent." I muttered, arms feeling heavy as I pushed my weighted body up into a sitting position. Looking down, I saw bandages covering my forearms.

"You know what, shut up. I don't have to be helping you, you know. So the next time you try to kill yourself, do it where I won't find, there for making me obligation free of helping you." He set the ginger ale on a coffee table in front of the couch before sitting on the edge where my legs were, forcing me to either move them or let them be crushed. I chose the former.

"Well sorry. You could have just left me there."

The man gave me a sharp look before lifting a spoon full of the soup and shoving it into my mouth. I gagged, turning my head away and coughing, the soup (chicken if the taste was right) dripping down my chin and onto the blanket that'd been draped over me.

"God dammit, Moyashi. Can't even keep it in your mouth." The man snapped, reaching for a kleenex box on the table. He roughly wiped the liquid off my chin. I tried my best to protest, but was too tired, too weak.

"Shut up. If you can try to kill yourself, then you can sit there quietly."

"Try being the key word here."

Another spoonful almost shoved down my throat was my only reply. At least this time I'd seen it coming and didn't gag as much. This went on until the whole bowl was gone. The soup had been surprisingly delicious even though it'd been served to him by such a rude man.

"What's your name anyway?" I asked, settling on my back.

"Before asking for someone else's you should first offer your own." The man said as he stood, moving to somewhere on the other side of the couch.

"Mhmm. You already know me. I can tell. But if you want to play that game then fine, I'll play as well." I cleared my throat before answering in a high, sickly happy tone. "Hi! My name's Allen Walker! What's yours?"

"That was creepy. Do it again and you become quite intimate with my sword."

"Your 'sword' as in an actual sword or your-"

"This sword."

A long silver blade was pressed against my throat, close enough that I feared to breath.

"Ah. That one. Pointy."

"Just shut up, Moyashi."

The sword was removed and I fought against the sigh of relief that clawed it's way up my throat.

"You didn't tell me your name yet." I said, rubbing my throat when his back was turned. I sat up as he began walking down a hallway to the left.

"Tch. Kanda."

"So pray tell, Mr. Kanda, why didn't you let me die?"

I could feel the air grow cold and a frown tugged at my lips as he turned slightly, just enough to look at me.

"Why would someone with everything try to kill themselves in the first place?"

"My reasons are my own."

"As are mine. Of you answer my question then maybe I'll tell you them."

My eyes narrowed at him. "I asked you first."

"And I just asked. So you going to answer?"

"Not at all."

"Well then there you go."

The bastard was smirking at me.

"Ass." I muttered, lying back down.

"Bean sprout."

Veins twitched as I abruptly sat up.

"I'm not a-"

The world spun around me as I slumped over, holding my head and covering mouth as the bile threatened to rise.

"Oi." I felt a hand on my shoulder, another on my forehead, the coolness a relief to my warm skin. "Tch. Your burning up. Hey, don't you dare throw up on my couch. Hey, you listening? Oi!"

I felt like I was listening to him speak from the other end of a mile long tunnel. Kanda pushed my down until I was laying before removing his hand. I whimpered out a protest at the lack of cool touch, but it was soon replaced by something even colder. Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the sight of a bag full of ice on my forehead.

"Idiot bean sprout who has to go and try to off himself in the middle of winter. You just had to catch a cold didn't you?" The low grumbling continued but I tuned it out and chose to watch his lips move instead. Even I had to admit he was handsome - that at least was undeniable. But he really did need to work on his attitude and manners.

"Well sorry to be such an inconvenience to you. If you didn't want to deal with me, you could have taken me to a hospital and be done with me."

Slowly the nausea settled and I didn't have to worry about throwing up all over the couch. After all, it didn't do anything to me.

"You have been dead by the time we got there. And then you would have definitely of become an even bigger problem for me."


Silence fell between us as Kanda stood and walked into the other room before returning with a long sleeved shirt and sweat pants.

"Change. Bathroom's down the hall. Second door on the left."

Afterward he walked back into the small area where the kitchen was and began making himself some tea.

I stood slowly, not wanting to get sick again. There was still a wave of vertigo but that was nothing compared to earlier so I quickly recovered. Making my way toward the door he said, I quickly stripped out of the ruined suit and slipped into the clothes Kanda had given me. They were too big and the shirt hung loosely off my shoulders while the back almost always slid down, even when I pulled the drawstring as tight as I could.

"You do know that that pair of clothes is at least five years old right?" Kanda asked, smirking in barely hidden amusement when I'd walked back into the living room. I glared halfheartedly at him before settling back onto the couch, curled in the fetal position as I wrapped the blanket around me.

"Your so short, Moyashi." Kanda said, leaning over the back of the couch, his face close to mine.

I felt my face warm but didn't look at him, even when it was hard not to with him right in my face, his breath ghosting over my skin. "My name is 'Allen'."

"You make it sound like I should care bean sprout."

"I told you, it's 'Allen'."

"And it's my apartment. So I'll call you whatever the hell I want to."

"Yeah? Well I never wanted to be here in the first place."

I finally shifted my gaze, meeting his unreadable cobalt one. He shrugged and leaned away. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, though I couldn't understand why.

'I guess it doesn't matter.'






The sprout was getting to me. Enough said. He'd been out cold for three days and in that time frame, things had been relatively quiet with only me being annoyed beyond belief I've having to take care of a brat like him.

But then, those three days were up and I learned just how annoying the bean sprout truly was. How I'd survived the following week of him being awake is a mystery to even me. Altogether, there was only about twelve hours a day in total that were weren't fighting, and that was because we were sleeping. Somehow, in the short amount of time, I'd gotten to the point where I had trouble sleeping because there was no arguing. Granted, the brat did shut up when I was training and meditating, so at least he had some shred of decency and respect for his elders. But the point was, where one week ago I'd have hated any and all noise and talking, I now came to not mind it as much.

I came to not mind him as much.

Also during that week, he'd been keeping track of the tv. Well, a certain developing story to be specific. One about him and his 'missing' self. I agreed when he said that it was annoying how many stories they had on him, the missing prodigy.

But neither of us paid any more attention to it than we would anything else.

Really, my only beef with the kid at this point (aside from the fact that he still refuses to tell me why he tried to kill himself) is the fact that he has a black hole he so innocently calls a stomach. But maybe I shouldn't use a type of meat to describe my...dislike for his stomach.

But more and more I started noticing something about the sprout. As weeks turned into months and his arms healed, I noticed something that truly frightened me. He liked me. Now I'm not as much as idiot that I let on, I know the signs. But I couldn't understand why - why he would like me when all we do is argue.

But what frightened me even more, was the fact that I liked him back. It became painfully obvious when I didn't kick him out when he'd recovered. Not only did I let him stay, he didn't leave and o didn't mind, I let him eat all my food, and even continued letting him use my clothes - something I took pride in as strange as it was.

But all good things come to an end.

It began when the Usagi came bursting into my apartment, yelling something unimportant. After which something else happened and he'd seen the Moyashi. But what happened next was the worst possible thing that'd happened at that moment.

The Moyashi's cousin had walked through the door and seen Allen.

After that, didn't take a genius to figure out why Allen, someone who could have everything and anything he wanted, would want to kill himself. All he was, was a doll to the people he worked for.

I don't think I'd ever been as pissed as I had been when I heard that. And o sure as hell wasn't going to let it continue.

In the end, he'd been the one to come to me, but that was just fine. He was making a decision to run his own life, and I was going to help him. I didn't care if we were on the run or hiding out at a friends place.

All I cared about was that MY Moyashi had chosen me.

Sorry for crappy ending. I finished this with fifteen minutes to spare until midnight.