Turn the Page

It's when you open your eyes only to see a character from a book you're reading standing in front of you, that you know you've lost your mind.

It's when you open your eyes only to see a character from a book that you've been reading standing in front of you, that you know you must have finally lost your mind.

This was written for and is dedicated to DetectiveBubbles. HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY, ANNIE! Sorry it's so late!

Warnings: Foul language (you can blame Kanda), and yaoi.

Also, this is un-beta'd, since it wouldn't be nice of me to make my usual beta edit her own gift. :D So I apologize in advance for any mistakes that I might have made.

Enjoy :)

Allen Walker was a young man who lived on his own in a one-bedroom apartment in the part of town that wouldn't exactly be considered the best. The bars on his windows to prevent robberies served as a constant reminder of this, yet he wouldn't let himself be bothered by any of it.

He tells himself that the bars are there to protect him from the dangers of the outside world, to insure his safety, and so he convinces his mind to lay at rest.

So while Allen didn't live in fear, he was smart enough to know not to venture outside alone at night. Considering he had no car and therefore had to rely on public transportation to go anywhere, it was no surprise that a great majority of his nights were spent holed-up in the small apartment.

Without the company of others and no interest in television, he turned to the only thing that could provide his mind with any solace: books.

It was one such night, and Allen was curled up on his bed with only his small bedside lamp on to illuminate the pages of his book. His mind was so absorbed in the story that he didn't even register the sound of rain starting to hit his window.

The young man's thoughts were occupied only by the plot and characters of the book; he was so entranced by the story that it was as if the war that was being fought was his own. Allen felt connected to all the different characters, and as he read on, he lost complete sight of himself.

None of this was abnormal for him; Allen was used to becoming completely entrapped within his books. However, he felt particularly attached with the current story and couldn't bring himself to care that he preferred being so detached from reality.

As he continued to read, Allen was vaguely aware of how late it had become. He had to work the next morning, so he told himself that he would stop after he reached the next chapter. However, when the next chapter came, he couldn't bring himself to stop reading since he was enjoying it so much and he just couldn't put the book down.

And so he made promises to himself to stop at the next chapter over and over again, and then he would break those promises each and every time. After much more time had passed, Allen's eyes started getting heavy and he could barely hold them open.

'I'll just rest my eyes for a moment,' he thought to himself tiredly. Pale lids closed softly over silver eyes, and that was how Allen ended up fast asleep with his book laying open across his chest.

xXx

It felt like almost no time had passed before Allen's eyes fluttered open tiredly. In his state of half-awareness, he registered the numbers on his alarm clock, proclaiming the time to be around six in the morning. The sound of rain pouring down outside was barely noticed.

After another brief moment, he realized that his lamp was still on, which explained why it felt oddly bright for that time in the morning. It was only after the rest of his senses slowly came back to him that Allen became aware of the muffled cursing coming from the other side of his room.

Fearfully, Allen quickly sat up in his bed, knocking the forgotten book to the floor. His wide, silver eyes scanned the room until they landed on a pair of angry blue ones, and for a rushing moment, Allen was overwhelmed by a strange sense of familiarity as he stared at the stranger.

He was a Japanese man with long, dark hair that was tied up and he had an angry scowl etched onto his face. The two stood there for a few moments, warily taking the other in. However, Allen's eyes then caught a small movement, and all of his attention was instantly focused on the sword hanging loosely from the strange man's hand.

Just as Allen was about to open his mouth, the other man suddenly rushed over to him in the blink of an eye, and the sharp blade was pressed to the white-haired man's throat. Allen's chest tightened with terror, the bed sheets balled up in his fists.

"Who the fuck are you?" the Japanese-looking man sneered, eyes narrowed.

"Who am I?" Allen echoed incredulously after a shocked pause. The fear all but evaporated in the face of indignation. "I should be the one asking you that! You broke into my apartment, and now you're questioning me?"

"Che," was all the man replied before pressing the sword against Allen's throat with more force, causing him to cringe. "For you own sake, you should answer my question, you freak. And tell me where the hell this is!"

"Allen!" he gasped out, backing up until he was pressed against the wall. The movement did little to help him escape from the sword, since the man just followed the Allen across the bed until he was leaning over him. "My name is Allen Walker, you're in my home, and I'd appreciate it if you would move your sword away from my neck."

For a brief moment, something akin to confusion flashed across the stranger's face, but the expression was quickly smothered and replaced by a scowl.

Allen thought that he'd been about to say something else, but instead the man withdrew his weapon, turned on his heel, and walked briskly out the bedroom door. The young man listened to the retreating footsteps and heard the Japanese man briefly fumble with the lock on the front door before it was slammed shut.

After releasing the breath that he hadn't been aware of holding, Allen shakily got out of his bed. He was internally debating on whether or not he should call the police when his foot bumped into something on the floor.

Glancing down, he saw that it was only his book, laying face down on the carpeted floor. He bent over to pick it up, and was about set it down on his nightstand when he noticed something that caused the book to slide from his shaking fingers: the previously pristine pages were covered in black ink, completely obscuring all the writing.

"What on Earth...?"

xXx

Several hours later found Allen on his way back home from his job at the grocery store. The rain was pouring down heavily overhead, and since he'd forgotten to bring an umbrella, the young man was soaked to the bone.

The sun was just beginning to set as he pushed his way through the front door of his apartment complex. He took the stairs up to the third floor but stopped dead when his door came into sight; sitting against it was the Japanese man from that morning, legs crossed and arms folded across his chest.

"You've got to be kidding me," Allen groaned, but continued walking until he stood right in front of the person who causing him such misery. He just wanted to get inside and get into a dry pair of clothes. Was that too much to ask for?

Once he was right in front of the man, blue eyes snapped open to send a glare up towards Allen, who matched it with one of his own.

"Well? What are you doing back here?" he finally demanded, voice sounding impatient. A lengthy pause in which neither of the young men said anything followed, and each tried their best to stare the other down.

"Che," the Japanese man practically spat, breaking the silence. The words that followed were still gruff, but there was also a hit of some other emotion within them—it wasn't embarrassment, exactly, but his pride definitely seemed somewhat wounded. "I have nowhere else to go."

Allen sighed, and briefly wondered if he had lost his mind as he contemplated what he was about to do.

"Well, don't just sit there. Come in."

With that, he grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, letting them both in even though still felt like he was being a complete moron. After all, this was the man who had threatened him with a sword after breaking in, and here he was, inviting him in as if it was nothing.

There was just something about the strange man that made him want to help; it might have been that odd sense of familiarity that Allen felt whenever he gazed at him, or it could have been that he just couldn't stand to see such a brash man looking so pitiful.

'Lost,' Allen decided after briefly thinking it over. 'He looks lost.' Not lost in the directional sense, but he seemed to have no idea what to do with himself, and Allen got the impression that this man was not used to feeling the least bit helpless.

Once both of them were inside the apartment, Allen turned to look at the man, realising for the first time that he was significantly shorter than the long-haired man. The observation slightly annoyed him. "So, are you going to tell me who you are?"

"Kanda," the man replied with a flat tone, glancing around the room in a bored manner.

The name made Allen's eyes widen, and he was instantly reminded of how the man seemed familiar. 'But no, there's absolutely no way...'

"Kanda," he said under his breath. "Yuu Kanda?"

The name caused Kanda to snap his head upwards, and the glare on his face was absolutely frigid.

"How," he began, his voice demanding, "The hell do you know my first name?" Kanda had walked over to Allen, and he was now looming over him threateningly.

Allen, on the other hand, wasn't even listening to him at that point. "No way, that's impossible," he murmured, mind lost in thought.

Yuu Kanda was one of the main characters in the book he had been reading the previous night. And yes, this man's name, looks and personality fit the character's description perfectly, but there was absolutely no way that this was the character he had been reading about. No way in hell.

His mind automatically started coming up with possibilities that would explain this situation: was someone pulling a prank on him? That seemed ridiculous, since someone would have to know exactly what book he had been reading, find someone who looked like one of the characters and somehow get the person into his apartment. It was far too elaborate, and he couldn't think of anyone who would bother to do that to him, anyway.

Was it a coincidence, then? But that also seemed rather unlikely.

"It's a dream," he decided. "I'm asleep, and this is just some strange, messed up dream."

"Answer me Moyashi! How the fuck do you know my first name?" The sharp voice snapped the white-haired man completely out of his thoughts.

"You're not real," Allen said, smiling up at the Japanese man, ignoring his question entirely. He was relieved to have finally figured it out.

"What the fuck? Do I look like I'm not real to you?" The man's patience was running thin, and it was taking every ounce of his self control to not punch the white-haired idiot in the face. The only reason he was tolerating this stupidity at the moment was because he needed to know what the hell was going on.

"Of course you look real, that's why I was so confused at first. But since this is a dream, it makes perfect sense," Allen stated, his tone complacent, as if explaining a concept to a daft child.

"What part of this," Kanda growled, taking a step closer, "makes you think it's a dream?"

"Well, characters from story books don't just step out of the pages in real life. Thus, this has to be a dream. Or maybe even a nightmare." The last part was mumbled under his breath.

Kanda, completely fed up at this point, grabbed Allen by the shirt and delivered a hard and swift punch to the younger man's gut, causing him to double over in pain while gasping for air. "Does this feel like a dream to you?" Kanda hissed, letting go of Allen's shirt so that he dropped to the floor.

After a pained moment, Allen looked up and met Kanda's eyes defiantly, one arm wrapped around his midsection. "It definitely doesn't feel like a dream, but how else can you explain this?" He took a moment to catch his breath again, and then continued on. "You told me just a few minutes ago that you had nowhere else to go, so tell me this: have you recognised a single place that you've seen since this morning?"

The man didn't say anything, and so Allen took Kanda's silence as confirmation of what he'd already guessed.

With a heavy sigh, he heaved himself up from on the floor. Without another word, he walked into his bedroom, leaving Kanda to stare after him in silence as he escaped into solitude.

Once he was within the privacy of his room, Allen slid down the now-closed door and sat with his head resting on his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. He took long, calming breaths and allowed his mind to wander, completely ignoring that his clothes were still soaked and practically plastered to his skin.

Just what was going on? Part of him wanted to go into complete denial about the situation, but a crazier part of him believed with all its might that his theory—that Kanda had come from the pages of his book—was the truth.

"The book!" Allen gasped as realization suddenly struck, bolting upright from his position on the floor. He made a beeline towards his night table and picked up the book that was probably the source of all these absurd problems. The pages were all still covered in ink, but Allen ignored that as he rushed back out of his room.

Kanda was exactly where he'd left him. Allen ran up to him and all but shoved the book into his hands.

"What the hell is this?" the grumpy Japanese man demanded.

"It's the book you came from," he explained. "The reason I knew your full name was because I'd read all about you in this."

Sceptically, the taller man opened the book and the scowl Kanda's face only deepened as he flipped through the inked-out pages.

"Is this some kind of joke, Moyashi?" he finally asked. The rage in his voice was only thinly veiled, and Allen suddenly became aware of the fact that Kanda still had his sword with him.

"No, Kanda. I'm completely serious." When the other man clearly didn't believe a word he was saying, Allen continued on. "Look, I was reading that book just last night, and the pages were perfectly normal. And then I woke up, and you were in my bedroom. Can you explain how you got there?"

"Che, no," Kanda muttered, looking away angrily.

"Right. And after you stormed out earlier, I picked this book up off the floor, and the pages were all ruined. I haven't the slightest idea as to how any of this happened, but the only thing that would explain it is that you came from inside that book."

They lapsed into silence once more, and Allen had to wonder to himself why he was trying so hard to convince Kanda of something that he himself could only barely grasp.

"If you're telling the truth, Moyashi, prove it to me right now."

"How?" Allen asked, perplexed.

"Fuck, I don't know! Tell me something you read it this shitty book."

"Alright," Allen murmured, thinking of what he should say. "Well, you're an exorcist and you fight things called 'akuma'."

Kanda stared down at him. "Che, you'll have to do better than that, baka Moyashi."

Groaning, the younger man began wracking his brain for tidbits about the other that he could use, finger pressed to his chin in thought. He was finding it difficult to come up with anything useful, since although Kanda wasn't a minor character, he was so stoic and not very talkative and therefore didn't reveal too much of himself during the story.

"Oh!" He suddenly exclaimed, snapping his head up. "Your sword—the one you so kindly threatened me with this morning—has a name: it's called Mugen."

Kanda's eyes widened ever so slightly at that. Grinning at his slight accomplishment, Allen continued to speak as further information came to mind. "You also had a friend. What was his name again? Alma? Yes, that was it. He-Ahh!"

Allen yelped as Kanda grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him roughly to the floor. He tried pushing himself up by the elbows, only to find the sword—Mugen—once again at his throat.

"Don't you fucking dare talk about him!" he hissed, leaning over the younger man who was sprawled out on the cold floor. The pressure on the blade increased slightly, and since Allen had nowhere to move, it cut a shallow line into his neck.

"I don't care if you read about it in some fucking book; it's none of your goddamn business!" Kanda roared, enraged. "All of this is fucked up! One minute I'm on the battlefield and the next I'm in some freak's room in some fucked up world. And then you try to tell me that I'm some made-up character in a fucking book? Like hell!"

Spitting out another "che", the dark-haired man spun on his heel and strode over to the wall, where he proceeded to punch a hole through the plaster.

Allen let out a breath of relief, deciding that he much preferred to have a hole punched in the wall than in his head, and that it was astronomically better than having in throat sliced open.

"I'm sorry," Allen whispered, breaking the stony silence that had settled over the room as he stood up. He gingerly placed his hand to his neck, and frowned when his white glove came back speckled with red. However, he ignored it as he slowly approached Kanda's back.

After hesitating for a moment, he gently placed a hand on the man's stiff shoulder.

"Look, I don't understand how any of this is happening, and it makes just as much sense to me as it does to you. But until we figure this out, you're welcome to stay here." He paused, and a wry smile spread across his lips. "Provided, of course, that you stop putting Mugen to my throat whenever you're angry.

Kanda snorted. "Che. Fine."

xXx

A few days had passed since then, and the two men had shared the apartment in relative peace. They did get into quite a few arguments—all of them over mundane, pointless things—but that was to be expected with two people of such differing personalities.

Those days were mostly spent with Allen going to work while Kanda stayed behind in the apartment. Most of the man's time was dedicated to training as well as pouring over books relating to the paranormal that Allen had brought home from a library, thinking they might provide some clues to their strange situation.

So far, nothing useful had come up. However, Kanda kept looking; although he never cared much for books, he truly wanted to find a way to get back home. He still refused to admit that he was from a book, but the man could not deny that this wasn't the same world that he'd lived in his entire life.

That morning, Kanda expected to go through the same routine as the last few days. So when Allen emerged from his bedroom over an hour later than usual, dressed only in his pyjamas, he was somewhat curious.

But only somewhat, because like hell he'd actually be curious about something related to the stupid Moyashi.

Seeing the strange look that Kanda gave him, Allen arched a silver brow.

"What?" he asked. "It's Saturday: I don't have work today."

Kanda made a dismissive sound, and turned back to the book that was laid out on the kitchen table.

"You're always up so early, Kanda. You really should take a break!" Allen exclaimed, muffling a tired yawn: he'd stayed up later than usual last night, once more lost between the pages of a book as the Japanese man slept on the couch in the other room.

Kanda grunted, not really listening. He only acknowledged the other's words because if he didn't, the white-haired brat wouldn't leave him be. He'd learned from experience.

"I know! We should go out today!" The younger man exclaimed once more, ignoring Kanda's uncooperativeness as he rustled through the fridge in search of his breakfast. "This is a completely new world for you and you've been here a week already, yet you have barely seen the outside of my apartment!"

"If I agree, will you leave me the fuck alone?" the dark-haired man snapped, glaring at Allen.

"Of course," he replied with a bright smile, bringing a bowl of cereal and some fruit with him as he sat down at the table.

xXx

A couple hours later found both young men dressed and heading out the door. Allen had made sure that Mugen had stayed behind in the apartment.

Kanda was in a pair of dark pants that Allen had bought him—he'd at first tried lending the taller man some of his clothes, but they'd been far too small and Kanda had only mocked Allen for his lack of height—and his own black, sleeveless turtleneck, while Allen was in a pair of faded jeans and a thin white, long-sleeved shirt.

Allen also still had his white gloves on, something that Kanda never questioned. He thought that it might have something to do with the jagged scar covering his left eye, but didn't really give a shit about it.

"Alright!" Allen announced, leading Kanda down the street that was filled with old, worn out buildings . "It's just about lunch time, and I'm starving."

"Che, whatever," Kanda muttered as he followed Allen. They stopped outside a dingy building with a large sign out front that read 'pizzeria' in bold letters. A smell that the Japanese man could not place emanated from the open windows.

"You're about to taste one of the most delicious things in existence, Kanda," Allen told him with a smile on his lips as they walked in through the front entrance.

Kanda merely grunted, doubting it could even come close to the taste of soba. He hung back and waited impatiently as Allen ordered their food.

Allen was soon walking back towards the Kanda with a big, greasy box in his hands. Catching the sceptical look the taller man cast at it, Allen laughed. "This is an extra-large pepperoni and cheese pizza."

"It smells disgusting," Kanda said bluntly, causing Allen to scowl at the rude man.

"You're going to try it anyway, and you're going to like it."

"Fucking Moyashi," he grumbled under his breath as they returned outside and began walking once more. "You've got your food, where the hell are we going now?"

"To the park. It's such a nice day, so we might as well eat outside."

Five minutes later, they were both seated on a park bench that was covered by the shade of a fern tree. The white-haired man had no desire to sit exposed to the hot sun when he was already wearing a long-sleeved shirt.

Allen handed Kanda a slice of the pizza, and the Japanese man grudgingly took hold of it. Allen had already swallowed several bites of his first slice when he looked over at Kanda, who was still looking at his in disgust.

"Oh come on, it won't hurt you to try it," Allen told him with a roll of his eyes.

Kanda just stared at that...thing that was supposed to be food, wondering why he'd agreed to let the Moyashi drag him around. He decided he must be fucking crazy.

"Kanda," Allen said warningly, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Eat it."

"Che, fine!" he snapped, taking a large bite out of the pizza. His face scrunched up in distaste.

"So, how is it?" Allen asked, smiling once again.

"Disgusting."

"I don't care, eat it."

As Kanda continued to eat his first slice, Allen was just polishing off his third.

"Fucking gluttonous Moyashi..." the Japanese man grumbled as he noticed this, but continued to eat without further complaint.

"What does that even mean?" The white-haired male asked after swallowing a mouthful.

"What does what mean?"

"Moyashi. You keep calling me that, and I have no idea what it means."

Kanda snorted. "It means bean sprout."

"What?" he demanded in indignation, jumping up from his seat on the bench to stand in front of Kanda with a glare. "Why the hell are you calling me a bean sprout?"

It was Kanda this time who rolled his eyes. "You have white hair, and you're freakishly short. You're a Moyashi."

"That's just rude!" he exclaimed, and he had opened his mouth to start ranting at Kanda when something hit him in the back, causing him to lose his balance.

He cried out in shock and screwed his eyes shut as he fell forward. He landed on something hard that didn't quite feel like the ground. Cautiously, Allen opened his eyes only to find that he was practically sprawled across Kanda, who had his hands on Allen's shoulders in an attempt to push him away.

"Get off of me!" He seethed, face tinged with the slightest hint of pink. It took Allen a moment to realize just where his hand was placed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He cried, jumping back as quickly as possible, his cheeks flaming red.

"I think I should be the one apologizing," a cheerful voice from over Allen's shoulder said. The white-haired man turned around and saw an attractive man with an apologetic smile on his lips. "I was just kicking the ball around, and I must have it too hard. I'm sorry for knocking you over."

"Ah, it's fine," Allen told him, mustering up a smile for the stranger. His cheeks were still dusted with pink.

"Like hell it is!" Kanda suddenly cut in, looking angrier than usual. "Only complete idiots pay no attention to what they're doing."

"Well," the man said, laughing somewhat nervously. "I apologize for being an idiot, then." He turned his smile back to Allen and was about to say something else when Kanda spoke up again.

"Che, I don't fucking care. I'm leaving." After he said those words, the Japanese man stood from the bench and started walking away briskly.

"Wait, Kanda!" Allen called after him. When the other man didn't stop, Allen let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm sorry," he told the stranger, apologizing for Kanda's rude behaviour. "And don't worry about hitting me; I just ended up losing my balance. It was no big deal." He gave him one last smile before picking up the now-empty pizza box. After throwing it into the nearby garbage can, he rushed after Kanda, dodging young children as he went.

"Kanda!" he called out. The other man didn't even slow down. "Damn it, Kanda. Stop! Where are you going?"

Allen finally caught up and grabbed on the dark-haired man's arm. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded angrily. "Why did you rush off like that?"

"I'm pissed off," was the only answer the man gave.

Allen was exasperated by this point. "Look," he told Kanda. "I'm sorry you're pissed off, but do you really want to go back already? You've hardly seen anything yet today!"

"Yes," he answered gruffly. Allen's eyes turned to steel.

"Wrong answer. Come on." With that, he tightened his grip on Kanda's arm and started dragging him. He knew that the other man could probably break the hold easily if he really wanted to, so Allen was happy enough that Kanda allowed himself to be pulled along.

As Allen led the way, Kanda stared at him with some unknown emotion in his dark eyes.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Allen dragged Kanda to various shops in the better part of town. They'd taken the city bus, which had been quite the experience.

Allen had been thoroughly amused as he watched the other passengers on the packed bus stare at Kanda as he just stood there with his arms crossed, keeping perfect balance, while everyone else not lucky enough to secure a seat had to hold on to avoid being thrown around.

Allen thought that Kanda would have been more wary of vehicles and the busy streets, since he definitely wouldn't be use to so such traffic, but he was proven wrong when the man only cast bored glances around him. Oh well.

After a lot of window shopping—which Kanda didn't complain too much about—Allen brought them both to the movie theatre.

He figured that that would be something that would impress Kanda, even if the Japanese man wouldn't admit it. Allen wasn't sure when he'd started wanting to impress Kanda, but at some point, he'd gotten fed up with his face etched with boredom as they went about.

But after they got into their seats and the movie started playing, Allen thought that he should have thought this out a little more. There wasn't much playing at the time, so he'd settled for a mindless slasher movie.

On the plus side, Allen did get to witness Kanda's eyes widening momentarily as the previews began to play on the big screen before he smothered the expression. On the other hand, the movie itself was simply terrible.

Instead of being even remotely scared, Allen found the bad acting, ridiculous effects and horrible plot to be laughable. And so he laughed while eating his popcorn.

Kanda seemed to be pretty much of the same mind, though instead of laughing, he let out disdainful snorts and scoffs at various intervals.

"My god, that was awful!" Allen laughed as they exited the theatre a couple hours later.

Kanda silently agreed with him.

xXx

After walking around for a while longer, Allen and Kanda had ended up on the boardwalk that overlooked the lake. Allen had gotten them both vanilla ice cream cones, and Kanda didn't seem to completely hate the taste as he ate the cold treat in silence.

"Oh, the sun's setting," Allen noticed with a happy smile. He turned and walked over to the wooden railing and folded his arms across the top as he leaned forward. "It's always so much more beautiful to watch over the water."

Kanda walked over to stand next to Allen, though he kept his arms at his sides. He had to admit that the sunset was something beautiful, but he'd seen countless beautiful sunsets throughout his life and it didn't really interest him in the least.

So instead he found himself staring at Allen; the white-haired man's face was turned slightly upwards, and he sported a serene smile as he stared at the colourful layers of pink, blue and orange in the sky. Something in Kanda's chest stirred as he stared at that smile, but he quickly smothered whatever it was.

"Che, let's go," he finally muttered. Allen turned his snowy head towards him and his lips twitched into a grin.

"Alright. It's going to be getting dark really soon, anyway."

As they started walking, Allen's stomach suddenly let out a fierce growl. He laughed sheepishly, blushing a bit. "Besides, I'm starving!"

Kanda rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about a gluttonous Moyashi, and then they headed home.

xXx

For the following weeks, not much changed: Allen would work for most of the day and would be back home in time for dinner, and then he and Kanda would spend the evening reading, watching TV, or they would just spend time together. And then on the weekends, Allen would take Kanda out again and, while the Japanese man would act as moody as ever, they both enjoyed themselves.

However, no progress had been made on figuring out how to get Kanda back home. It wasn't from lack of trying, though: Allen had borrowed a great many books from the library and had tried finding something, anything, on the internet countless times.

All the searches came up empty, which disappointed Allen, but didn't really surprise him; while he had hoped that he'd be able to help Kanda get back, he knew the chances of finding anything were slim. After all, this definitely was not a run-of-the-mill situation, and he could hardly expect Google to come up with a solution for it.

But as time moved on, Allen started to feel a bit happy that they couldn't find a way to get Kanda back to where he belonged. He berated himself over such selfishness, but he couldn't quench the feeling; he'd grown close to Kanda over the past few weeks and really didn't want to see him go.

The two of them still got into arguments constantly, but Allen had already admitted to himself that he secretly enjoyed those arguments, and he had a hunch that Kanda felt the same.

xXx

One Wednesday night, Allen was at the grocery store where he worked, and he was just getting ready to go home. He was leaving about an hour later than he usually would have, since his manager had asked him and some other employees to stay behind to take care of a few things.

Now that he was finally about to go home, Allen felt both relieved and slightly wary: it was dark outside, and it wasn't all that safe on the streets in that town once night fell. But since it was only a seven minute walk to the bus stop from the store, he didn't let it bother him too much.

The white-haired man bid his coworkers farewell, and then walked off into the night.

xXx

Back at Allen's apartment, Kanda was practically pacing the floor in worry. Allen wasn't back yet, and it was hours later than he had ever gotten home since Kanda had been there.

The Japanese man was also well aware that the neighbourhood wasn't the best—especially during the night—since it looked bad enough during the day, and Allen had spoken of the dangers previously.

Kanda was also pissed that he was getting so worked up over the damned Moyashi. Why should he care so much about what happened to that white-haired idiot?

He tried telling himself that it was because Allen was the only person who knew about his current predicament, and was the one providing him with a place to stay while he tried to find his way home.

However, a voice at the back of his mind whispered otherwise, telling Kanda that he was worried because he didn't want Allen to be hurt. Not because the younger man provided him with a convenient place to stay, but because he had come to genuinely care for him and didn't want anything to happen to him.

Kanda tried to ignore the voice, but the fact that he was still fucking worried did little to help him sink into denial.

He looked at the clock—a "digital" clock, as the Moyashi had called it. Were people in this world too goddamn lazy to even read a regular clock?—for what seemed like the thousandth time, and went back to his pacing.

"Fuck it," Kanda cursed after another twenty minutes passed with no sign of Allen. He grabbed Mugen, and stormed out of the apartment's front door.

Once on the street, the long-haired man set off at a brisk pace to where he knew the Moyashi worked. He knew the way from one of their weekend excursions and while it wasn't exactly a close destination, Kanda was walking so fast that he was almost running. He didn't really have the option of taking the bus, since he had no idea what times it came at.

He didn't fear for his own safety either, since there was no doubt in his mind that he could easily take care of any idiot stupid enough to attack him. And with Mugen hanging from his hip, any people on the street did their best to steer clear of him.

Once he was only a couple blocks away from the grocery store, Kanda slowed his pace. With his highly-attuned senses, he was able to pick up on the coppery scent of blood. And since there was only one alley between the worn and vandalized buildings large enough for people to fit in, he had a very good idea as to where the smell was coming from.

As Kanda approached the alley, his heart began pounding. With a start, he realized that the icy feeling pulsing through his veins was fear. He had only ever felt fear for himself in a few extremely dire situations, but this was the first time he'd feared for another person since...since Alma.

The revelation shocked Kanda, but he quickly smothered the feeling as he walked into the mouth of the alley.

And as soon as he did, the icy feeling immediately turned into a burning rage. With the waning moonlight and the flickering street lights, Kanda was able to make out Allen's crumpled body sprawled out on the pavement. Even without the tell-tale white hair—which had turned pink with the stain on blood—the Japanese man would have been able to identify him easily, after becoming so familiar with him throughout the past few weeks.

Kanda couldn't tell what the extent of Allen's injuries were, but the man was clearly unconscious and he reeked of blood. Without any further hesitation, Kanda hoisted the smaller body onto his back, unmindful of the blood.

He positioned them so that Allen's arms hung limply over his shoulders as he supported him by the backs of his thighs, which were wrapped around Kanda's waist. The close proximity with the other man made something stir deep inside him, but Kanda brushed it off as he walked back to the street.

As he quickly made his way back to the apartment, one thought consumed his mind: 'If I ever find the bastard that did this, I will fucking murder him.'

xXx

After a long, tense walk, the ponytailed man finally made it home with Allen still very much unconscious on his back. Once inside, Kanda kicked the door closed and walked into the living room, where he laid Allen gently down onto the couch. The Japanese man had no idea where or how to find a doctor in this world, but since he had plenty of experience dealing with wounds back where he came from, he was sure he could take care of it himself.

With the bright lighting in the apartment, Kanda was able to see just how bad Allen looked: the young man was covered in blood, and there was a deep-looking cut on his cheekbone. His face was also swollen and he was already starting to bruise.

Kanda ran a hand through Allen's hair as he searched for the source of the bleeding. It looked as if his head had been smashed against a wall, and the blood was all coming from a tear in his scalp.

The heat of anger was still thrumming through his veins, but it had simmered down to a dull throb due to the fact that he had more important things to worry about at the moment; hating the bastard who did this and plotting his demise could wait until after Kanda made sure that Allen would be alright.

Needing to know what other injuries were on the younger's body, the Japanese man grabbed the hem of the long-sleeved shirt and starting pulling it up over Allen's body. As more and more pale flesh was exposed, Kanda felt his mouth begin to go dry. However, he immediately became refocused on the reason he was undressing the boy in the first place when he noticed all the bruises covering Allen's abdomen and chest.

Kanda nearly let out a growl, but decided once again that his anger could wait. He continued to pull the shirt up, and it was only once the blood-stained garment was carelessly tossed to the floor that his eyes zeroed in on a shocking sight.

"What the fuck?"

Suddenly, all the long-sleeved shirts and the gloves that never seemed to come off made sense as he stared at Allen's left arm. The appendage was a deep red and shrivelled and it was like that up almost the entire length of the arm, stopping just below the shoulder. It looked like a severe burn.

The shock wore off after a few moments, since Kanda had seen much worse in his battle-filled life. He quickly set to cleaning Allen's wounds and bandaging them with a shredded bed sheet before he began the most nerve-wracking part of the whole ordeal: waiting for the stupid Moyashi to wake the fuck up.

xXx

It was dark as Allen opened his eyes and tried to look around. What had happened? Where was he?

He lifted his hand in front of his face, but couldn't see it at all. The young man could feel the beginning of panic starting to set in, but fought against the fear; he would get nowhere if he started panicking.

"Hello?" he called out with a wavering voice. "Is anyone there?"

No answer came back, and Allen swallowed nervously. Deciding that he couldn't just stand there, he began to take tentative steps forward. He walked and walked, but he had no idea how long he was at it for. It could have been hours, or it could have been seconds. It was as if time was passing by quickly and slowly at the same time.

Suddenly, it was as if the ground fell from under the white-haired man's feet. As he began to free-fall into further darkness, a terrified scream was torn from his lips. Allen's arms reached out desperately, trying to grab a hold on something—anything!

Unfortunately, his fingertips felt nothing but emptiness as he continued to cry out in fear as his rapid descent through the darkness continued. When he could no longer scream, Allen began to prepare himself to die in this strange place. He felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, but did nothing to hold them back.

But just as suddenly as his fall started, it stopped. The most surprising part of this for Allen was that there was no impact; neither his feet nor any other part of his body was touching anything. It was as if he was floating.

Allen decided that he much preferred floating in darkness than falling in it.

Some time passed while Allen remained suspended in nothingness. Then, right in front of the young man's face, a small orb of light appeared. He stared at it curiously, liking the change in scenery. Allen's eyes started to widen though, as hundreds upon hundreds of those orbs were suddenly floating around with him.

"What...?" he asked no one in particular with a dazed curiosity. He reached a hand out to touch on of the orbs, but as soon as he made contact with it, the small ball of light fizzled out.

"Allen Walker..." a voice whispered. He whipped his head around, trying to find the location of the voice, but it was of no use, since he couldn't see anyone.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quiet. He wasn't really expecting an answer, so Allen was slightly shocked when the voice began speaking in a whisper once again.

"Who I am doesn't matter, young one." Since Allen had been paying more attention this time, he came to realize that the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, not from just one direction. The voice had a kind, motherly tone to it. "What matters is who you are."

"But you know who I am," he said, brow furrowed. "You just said my name. I'm Allen Walker."

"Yes," the voice agreed, "Allen Walker is indeed your name. But who are you?"

"I...I don't understand."

The voice let out a small, tinkling laugh. "You are not meant to understand, child. Not right now. But tell me, Allen Walker: do you not find reality to be such a fickle thing?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Reality likes to hide itself. It makes it very hard to distinguish between the real and the fake, and many will never know that they take no part in what they assume reality to be. Do you think this conversation is real or imagined, Allen?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Is this a dream?" the young man asked. The longer he listened, the less any of this made sense.

"I can't tell you whether or not it is, since this is all as real as you believe it to be. What you need to know is that if so many can be confused about what reality is, perhaps you can be as well."

As soon as the voice finished, the white orbs began to disappear. The vanished slowly at first, but soon they were all blending back into darkness at a rapid pace.

When the last one went out, he began to fall once more. "Wait!" he yelled, but his descent didn't slow in the least.

"Goodbye, Allen Walker," was the last thing he heard.

xXx

Two days had passed. Two whole fucking days, and the Moyashi still hadn't woken up. Kanda had fed him as best as he could and he'd made the boy drink lot's of water, but there was still no sign of him returning to consciousness.

The Japanese man was sitting at the kitchen table, since he couldn't handle being in the other room and staring at Allen's prone body any longer. He felt sick to his stomach with worry, and a part of him hated himself for worrying so much over someone.

The rest of him couldn't give a shit about what that part thought.

Kanda was staring at the now-cold cup of coffee on the table in front of him when he heard a soft groan coming from the other room. He hesitated for only a moment before rushing out of the kitchen.

The man was shocked by the amount of sheer relief that coursed through him when he caught sight of Allen, awake and sitting up on the couch with a dazed look on his face.

"Kanda..?" the white-haired idiot asked when he saw him standing in the doorway. "What happened?"

Without thinking, he strode forward. Allen flinched back; he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely didn't involve being pushed against Kanda's chest as he was enveloped in strong arms.

For the first few moments, Allen could only sit there in shock. Kanda—cold, rude, obnoxious Kanda—was, of all things, hugging him?

"You were unconscious for two days. Two days," the Japanese man stressed, head pressed into the snowy-white hair.

At his words, a small smile graced Allen's lips. Without further ado, he reached up and wrapped his arms around the other man's neck. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"Che, I wasn't fucking worried," he snapped, pulling back slightly, scowl on his face as he glared into the Moyashi's eyes.

"Mhmm, sure you weren't," Allen teased, lips twitching upwards. "You came and found me, brought me back, took care of me, and now you're so happy to see me awake. But you weren't worried at all."

"Fuck you," was all Kanda said in reply. Neither of them had moved, and so their faces were still only inches apart. The Japanese man suddenly became aware of the close proximity, but oddly enough, he felt no desire to move from where he was.

Silence fell over the two of them, but it wasn't the least bit tense. Allen had also realized just how close they were in that moment, and a slight blush dusted his cheeks. They continued to stare at each other, and unconsciously, they both began to inch forward.

Kanda's eyes darted down to Allen's pale pink lips, feeling an intense want. The injured man noticed the direction of Kanda's blue eyes, and it caused him to swallow nervously. Nonetheless, he moved his face even closer to the other's.

However, just as their lips were about to touch, Allen suddenly became aware of his shirtless state.

'My arm,' he thought, panicked. 'Kanda's seen my arm!' With large, frightened eyes, the white-haired man withdrew his arms from around the other's neck, and instead used them to push him away.

Standing up quickly, he was about to bolt to his bedroom when he felt an intense dizziness, followed by a throbbing in his head.

He would have stumbled away regardless had Kanda not grabbed his shoulders and roughly pinned him to the couch, effectively stopping the younger man's retreat.

"What the hell, Allen?" The Japanese man demanded. Allen felt shocked to hear Kanda call him by his actual name, but the majority of his mind was busy freaking out. He grasped his left arm with his right hand, and without realizing it, tears began to well in his eyes.

"I'm disgusting," he cried. "Can't you see that? Just look at me! I'm disgusting, a freak, a monst-oomf!" His self-deprecation was cut short by the feeling of Kanda's lips being pressed into his forcefully as one hand cupped his cheek while the other was against his chest, holding him down.

The Japanese had his knees pressed to the couch on either side of Allen's hips, straddling him as he moved his lips against the soft, pink ones.

At first, Allen fought against him and pounded his fists weakly into the older man's chest repeatedly. It didn't last long though, as he slowly gave into the kiss. As their mouths moved against each other's, Allen's hands unconsciously moved up to Kanda's head, tightly gripping the dark tresses.

As the white-haired man pulled Kanda's head down further, the kiss deepened and turned more frantic.

Not long after, they both broke apart, gasping for air. They didn't speak for a few minutes after that, both of them trying to catch their breath. The two of them had swollen red lips, and there were lines of dried tears going down Allen's flushed face.

Once his breath was even once more, Kanda stared down fiercely into Allen's eyes. "It's not disgusting, you're not a freak, and you're definitely not a monster," he told the younger man in a harsh tone as he sat up on the couch.

He dragged Allen up with him, and took hold of his left arm in order to inspect it more closely.

The younger man flinched, but not in pain. Regardless of what Kanda just said, there was no way that he couldn't be disgusted by that thing that's supposed to be an arm. On top of that, he felt extremely embarrassed about the kiss that they'd just shared. That's not to say he didn't like it, though; he'd definitely enjoyed it, but with the embarrassment from the kiss combined the shame for his arm, he couldn't even look up at Kanda's face, let alone stare him in the eye.

Allen had his head turned to the side, gazing intently at the wall, when Kanda finally spoke.

"What happened?" was all he asked, his voice calm.

Still not looking at the other man, Allen debated on whether or not to tell him. 'Why not,' he decided after a moment of deliberation.

"It was a fire," he began in a small voice, dispassionate. "Mana—my father—died in it. He died after getting me out. I've been alone ever since, and that was over twelve years ago." He didn't bother going into further detail, because really, it didn't matter.

Kanda made no sound of acknowledgement; he only continued to run his hands along the scarred skin.

"I meant what I said. It's not disgusting, not at all." The man's voice was gruff, but Allen could hear the ring sincerity in it.

"Really?" He asked with a tentative hope, finally looking at Kanda again. "Everyone else who's ever seen it thought it was. After they saw it, they would call me a freak."

"I'm not everyone else," Kanda said simply, rolling his eyes. Silently, Allen couldn't help but agree with him; the Japanese man most certainly was not like anyone else he'd ever met.

xXx

Since Allen had been mugged, Kanda had taken to meeting Allen at the grocery store once his shift ended, and they would both go home together.

The white-haired man had told Kanda that he was just being paranoid, and that there was no reason for him to come and pick him up. But secretly, he found that he was really happy to have Kanda's company.

At first, Allen had been worried that things between Kanda and him would be awkward due to the kiss, but it was quite the opposite; the Japanese man was still as untalkative as ever, and they continued to bicker regularly, but both of them enjoyed being in the other's presence. Kanda wouldn't admit such a thing out loud, being the stubborn man that he was, but Allen could tell just by how he acted towards him.

They shared many more kisses; some where small and quick, others were long and deep, but Allen cherished each and every single one of them.

Neither of them talked about how they were going to get Kanda back home, but they both silently continued to do research. Before, Allen hadn't really wanted Kanda to leave. Now, he didn't know how he'd bear to have the man gone from his life.

It was late into the night, and Allen was lying in his bed. He wasn't able to sleep, and for once, he had no desire to read. His mind just wasn't able to rest; he thought about Kanda and how he'd become hyper-aware of him, and how the man was just in the other room, asleep on the couch.

He thought of the night that he'd been mugged and the injuries he'd obtained from it that were almost completely healed by now. He thought about how Kanda had taken care of him, not knowing how to get to a hospital. He thought about the world that the other man had come from, and what he knew about from the book.

And then he thought about the book itself; it was currently sitting in a drawer, and Allen hadn't looked at it in weeks.

He felt the sudden desire to open the book, so after turning on his lamp, he reached into the drawer and brought it out. The young man held the book in his hands with trepidation, simply staring at the cover for a few long moments.

Allen didn't understand why he felt so nervous about opening it, but understanding it or not, the nervousness was completely real. Swallowing, the white-haired man placed a bare hand on the cover—he'd long since stopped wearing his gloves at home, since Kanda had already seen the entirety of the gruesome arm anyway—and opened it.

As Allen flipped through the pages, his eyes widened. Instead of the completely-covered-in-ink pages that he had expected to see, there were pages with some writing visible. The ink was still there, covering a vast majority of the text, but a lot of words in different places were now legible.

There were no whole sentences and the bits and pieces that he could read didn't make much sense, but the fact that the black ink had receded at all was shocking.

Allen continued turning the pages, absentmindedly reading the words that had been revealed. However, he stopped dead when he came across a name; a name that really shouldn't have been there.

"Allen Walker."

It felt as if his blood had turned to ice; he had no idea what his name could possibly be doing in the book, and it made him slightly afraid.

What's more is that Allen's name only appeared towards the end of the book. When he'd been reading it, the white-haired man had only gotten about halfway through before Kanda had made his appearance into this world, so he had no idea if there was someone who he coincidentally shared a name with in the story, or if the printed words had somehow changed.

Suddenly feeling mentally as well as physically exhausted, Allen decided that figuring this out could wait until morning.

Uneasily, he placed the book face down in the drawer. Curling up in his blankets, Allen let sleep claim him as a distant voice echoed in his mind.

"But tell me, Allen Walker: do you not find reality to be such a fickle thing?"

xXx

When Allen woke up the next morning, the first thing he was aware of was the dull throb coming from the back of his head. Groaning, he sat up in his bed. He was about to get up when he saw that the drawer in his night table was open a crack.

Instantly, he recalled the events of the previous night. Thinking that it was perhaps just a dream, he pulled the drawer open and grabbed the book. As he flipped through the pages once more, Allen came to realize that not only had the strange black ink actually receded, but more of each of the pages was now revealed.

Would it continue to do so?

"I have to show Kanda," Allen said to himself. Gripping the book to his chest, Allen rushed out of his room.

Once in the living room, he hadn't expected to see Kanda still asleep on the couch. Not once in the few months that the Japanese man had been living there had Allen seen the man asleep. Glancing at the clock for the first time that morning, he realized why: it was barely even five AM, much earlier than either of them woke up.

The book momentarily forgotten in the face of Kanda's serene expression—which the younger man was now seeing for the first time, and the expression seemed nearly alien on the face that usually sported a scowl—Allen made his way to the older man and leaned down next to him. Smiling softly, the white-haired man brought a hand to the Japanese man's face and caressed his cheek gently.

When Kanda started stirring, Allen leaned his face down and pressed his lips to the dark-haired man's. Kanda kissed him back for a moment before pulling away slowly.

"Good morning," Allen whispered with a happy smile.

"What the hell are you doing up so early?" the Japanese man asked with a tired voice. He watched with a quirked brow as the question made Allen's eyes widen.

"Right, I almost forgot!" he laughed, before his face once more turned serious. He pushed the book into Kanda's hands. "Just look through it," he added after seeing the other man's dubious look.

Kanda did as he was asked and started to look through the pages. His eyes narrowed at what he saw. "So there really were words under there," he snorted, causing Allen's eye to twitch.

"You didn't believe me?" he demanded with annoyance.

"Che. Not completely."

Allen opened his mouth the say something, but closed it again as he decided that arguing would get them nowhere at this point.

"Look, that's not all," he sighed, sidling up to Kanda on the couch as he began to flip to near the back of the book. When he found the page he wanted, he pointed out his name, written in black and white.

"Why the fuck if your name there?" he demanded, staring at Allen.

"That's something I'd love to know, since I haven't the slightest idea." Kanda che'd again in response. "And you can see a lot more text than I was able to last night. I think it's slowly going back to normal."

Kanda had flipped back to the front of the book, looking to see if he could find anything that was familiar. He couldn't make out much, but there were names of people and places—his own name included—he recognized. He now knew without a shadow of a doubt that the book was telling the story of his life, but why was the Moyashi's name included later on?

"This shit keeps making less and less sense," he muttered, slamming the book closed. Allen hummed in agreement, leaning tiredly against Kanda's side.

It would be a few more days before they would be able to read anything useful in the book.

xXx

It was many years ago. Allen was just a small child, and although he was an orphan, he had a wonderful adoptive father. The young boy loved Mana with all his heart, and he would be forever grateful to the man for picking him up off of the streets.

The two of them had lived in happiness until fate sent that happiness crashing to the ground before stomping on it and crushing it into a million little pieces.

It was a fire: the flames licked their way along the walls, consuming everything. Both Allen and Mana were trapped inside with no way out.

"Allen, stay here," Mana told him gently but sternly. The brown-haired boy had tears streaming down his face, but he nodded anyway. The man quickly left the room and headed down the hallways towards his study. The flames had already started eating away at the walls of the hallway, but he knew that he had only one hope...

The seconds and minutes dragged by in agonizing slowness in the time Mana was gone. The room Allen was in still hadn't been consumed by flames, but it was inevitable that it would be, given time.

The boy heard running footsteps in the hallway a few minutes later, and his small shoulders sank with relief. But just as Mana was about to re-enter the room, a burning beam fell from the ceiling, trapping him in flames.

"Mana!" Allen cried, rushing to the doorway. The man was reaching a hand out desperately, holding a book.

"Take it, Allen!" he yelled out. The boy did as he was told and took the book from Mana's outstretched hand.

He was suddenly pushed back by a burst of flames. Screaming, he dropped the book to the floor, but quickly reached back out with his left hand, trying to get to Mana.

Screeching in pain, Allen quickly drew back, sobbing in agony and loss. He beat the flames off of himself and picked up the book. He ran to the farthest wall and sat against it, clutching it tightly to his chest with his right arm—the one that hadn't been burned.

Allen thought for sure that he was about to die. After all, Mana had just died right in front of him. But why had he given Allen the book? Why had he put his life in jeopardy for a simple book?

Even through the pain and tears, Allen felt a curiosity burning within him. Mana had died to get this book to him. He might as well see what it was before he joined his father in death.

The minute he opened the book, Allen was blinded by an intense white light. The sounds of a burning house faded into nothing, and the boy felt a sudden sharp pain over his left eye. The intensity of the pain came nowhere near to that of his arm, but he could feel the pain go from his forehead and all the way down his cheek.

And then the blinding light was replaced by complete darkness.

xXx

Allen shot up, panting heavily and sweating. Had that been another dream? His memories of the night Mana had died had been foggy at best, but the scene he'd just witnessed was painfully familiar.

Had that been what really happened that night all those years ago?

"That's impossible," Allen whispered to himself. But then again, it was no more impossible than the whole thing with Kanda, and the Japanese man was most definitely real.

As he shakily got to his feet, Allen realized that he had been on the couch instead of his bed. When had he fallen asleep there?

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Allen rushed into his room and grabbed the book. It had been a few days since he'd discovered that the pages were starting to go back to normal. Kanda, who'd been on the other side of the room, had watched it all with slight worry.

Allen soon returned with the book in his hands, and Kanda followed the younger man to the kitchen, where he sat down at the table with the book open in front of him. He instantly began to flip frantically through the pages.

The Japanese man walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"

Allen ignored him as his eyes drank in the words written on the pages. Almost everything was visible now, the strange black ink nearly gone. The only parts still completely obscured were the very last pages.

After a few moments had passed like this, Allen turned to look at Kanda.

"Do you think," he began before pausing to lick his dry lips nervously, "that it's possible that maybe this is the world that isn't real?" Kanda didn't answer, and instead continued to stare at the younger man.

"I just had a dream, but...it felt more like a memory. It was of the night Mana died. I was in a house, but didn't look like something people would be living in during this time. It looked better suited for around the time the world you're from is set in.

"My hair was also still brown in the dream," he said, laughing wryly. He continued to recount the dream, and the white light that he'd been enveloped in after opening the cover. During the entire explanation, Kanda remained completely silent. So Allen continued on.

"When I was in the light, I felt a pain over my eye. I've never known where my scar came from, since I didn't remember how I got it." He paused to gently push his bangs aside, revealing the upside-down star carved into his skin, which his hair had been hiding.

Up until that point, Kanda had never seen the entirety of the scar: he only saw the jagged line going down the younger man's cheek, as well as faint hints of it from behind the white bangs. But he held in his shock as Allen continued.

"If that's what really happened all those years ago, I think it might be where I got it from."

Kanda finally took a seat next to Allen. "How do you know that it wasn't just some damned dream?" he asked with his usual tone.

"That's why I was looking at this book again," the younger man replied. "And then I found this." He pointed to the top of the page, and Kanda silently started to read it. What he saw shocked him, probably more than anything else that had happened thus far, but he didn't let it show on his face.

The page described—in perfect detail—the exact conversation that he and Allen had just been having, as well as the events that had preceded it.

"It's as if someone was writing about us, but look: it goes on past right now."

As Kanda continued to read, his scowl deepened. He skipped over to the next page not caring to read about himself reading, only to find most of it blotted out. He flipped past a couple more pages, each completely covered in ink, before he came across a paragraph that was completely free of the strange ink.

"That wasn't like that just a few minutes ago," Allen said under his breath, leaning in closer to the book.

"...and then they set the lit match down on the book, watching as the paper was slowly engulfed in flames," the white-haired man began, reading out loud. "The two men stood there, hoping that this would work, that the burning of the book would open the door to the world they wished to return to..."

That was all that was written there, and after sitting there to absorb the information for a moment, Allen turned back to Kanda. "Do you think that it's telling us how to leave?"

"Us?" the Japanese man scoffed, quirking an eyebrow. At first Allen wanted to be hurt by that one single word, but he narrowed his eyes in defiance and rounded on Kanda.

"Yes, us," Allen told him, leaving little room for argument. "This isn't the place I belong, but even if it was, I would still want to leave. Because, goddammit Kanda, I love you! I don't want to stay here while you go back. I don't want you to leave me here alone! I want to be with you, whether we stay here or go to the world you came from!"

After he finished yelling at him, Allen turned his flushed face away. He had just said all that, and every single word was true, but what if Kanda didn't feel the same? What if Allen had just been a fool this entire time?

Kanda was visibly shocked by the force of Allen's words. It was the only time he'd ever allowed the shock to be so clearly viewed. The Moyashi loves him? Kanda had never given much thought to love. He knew that he wanted the younger man, that something in his heart—which had been cold and empty for far too long—stirred every time he was around him. But as he stared at the Moyashi, who had turned away from him, he realized that that feeling he'd been getting around Allen was love.

"It's the same for me," he grumbled, averting his eyes.

Allen's head shot up and he stared at Kanda, his eyes hopeful. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, voice uncertain.

"Yes! Fuck, I love you too, alright?" the ponytailed man snapped. "Now will you shut the hell up?"

Allen grinned, and threw himself into the other's arms. "I know it's dangerous where you come from," he whispered into Kanda's ear. "But I'll be fine, especially with you there with me."

"Che, whatever." Although his words were flat, the man put his arms around the other's body and held him close.

"Now," Allen smiled. "Why don't we see if burning the book is really the answer to getting out of here?"

They both pulled apart, and Kanda glared the book sitting on the table. "That doesn't make any fucking sense. Why would burning that damned book get me—us, out of here?"

"Well," Allen paused thoughtfully. "If I really am from the same world as you originally, and my dream was actually a memory, then I got here because of a fire. So it makes a strange sort of sense that a fire would get us out. And if I'm wrong, then the book will be gone forever, but we've still got to take the chance."

Kanda sighed, and got up. "Do you have matches?"

Allen nodded, and went to retrieve them from the cupboard. Both he and Kanda stood in front of the book as the younger man got ready to strike a match.

"Moyashi, do you really want to go? Everything you've ever known is here."

Allen smiled gently and threw the now-lit match onto the book, watching as the flame started to catch. "There's nothing here that I would miss more than you."

He reached out and grabbed Kanda's hand, and the two of them watched it burn. For awhile, nothing changed, and they were beginning to think it hadn't worked.

Just as they were about to give up on it, a bright light flashed, and the world fell apart from around them.

xXx

When Allen came to, he was sprawled across Kanda's chest, and they were both lying on wet grass. Groaning, he sat up. Right in front of him, a book was sitting face down. Frowning, he reached over and picked it up.

Cautiously, he started turning the pages. However, each and every single page was completely blank. The young man just continued to stare at it for a moment before he broke into laughter.

Looking up, he could see what looked like a castle, sitting perched atop a steep cliff. It looked exactly as it had been described in the book.

Smiling, he looked back down at Kanda, who was just returning to consciousness. As he stared at the other man, something occurred to Allen.

"Hey Kanda, how did you end up in my world in the first place?"

"No fucking clue," was the grumbled response that he received.

"Hmm, I guess we can just have to call it fate, then." Grinning once more, he pushed the Japanese man to the ground and captured the man's lips with his own.

There was nothing left to do now except work their way towards their happily ever after.

Thanks for reading! Once again, happy belated birthday, Annie!

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