The Winding Road Approaches

Achromatic Blossoms

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This is preset before any of the other stories, and is an alternate universe. It's an old story I found and thought I could share it. 
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He loved the garden. It was his favorite place. The little church sat on top of the hill, its stained glass windows coruscant in the dying sunlight. Just to the left of the bethel spread out a small cemetery, and a little back and to the right was the garden. A placid air hung as heavy as the redolence of sweet roses and musky vanilla orchids and warm lavender. The entire chantry was pleasantly warm and the gardeners were cordial and treated the boy with utmost kindness. There was a familiarity that accompanied him as he sat on the marmoreal settee, as though he shared the quiet sanctuary with someone long gone. And for Allen Walker, there was.

When Mana had died, leaving a ten year old boy alone in the world, Allen was sure his world was ending. When Mana Walker had adopted the crippled orphan, Allen had been three years old and bitter. There were many stories that the gentle and kind man would tell his twin that left them laughing into the next day. Allen had been bitter and hardened by the world, but it would always be funny to the duplicate men to hear such foul language from a child who couldn't even reach most of the shelves by himself. But in just seven short months, Allen had become the perfect child, all due to Mana.

Mana was a happy and kind-hearted man with dark hair and warm eyes. Allen had loved the young man with every bone in his body, and his death had crushed the heart of the young albino. But he couldn't help but smile whenever he remembered the thin, asinine mustache his father had once tried to grow. That was why he fled to the cemetery during times where his heart bled and his eyes had no tears to give; why he loved the abbey garden that was his favorite place.

Mana had often come here; it had been his special place. He would take a young Allen here for any occasion he could think of. So it had become Allen's safe haven too. He would find himself there on days like these. The days when his love and patience had been taken and given and emptied like a gas tank after a long drive. On days where he felt he had no good thing to give; that the world no longer held a place for him. He would come, he would sit, and he would remember. He would allow Mana's memory and presence to settle around him and stop existing, even if for a moment. Today was no different, or rather, it shouldn't have been different. But it was.

Because today, Allen was not alone in his solitude of the chapel.

Allen had met Kanda when they were twelve. Well, Allen would be twelve in three months and Kanda would be 13 in less than two, but it was close enough for them. Though to say they were fast friends would be a lie, as it took at least year before the minatory words and threats between the two became less viscous and more playful, in a way.

Allen and his foster father, Cross Marian, who had been his father's close friend and his god father, were moving into a house. One that, ironically, was just next door to Froi Tiedoll, an old friend, so to speak, of Cross's. Froi had adoptive three boys of his own, it seemed. He was an older man, but couldn't have been over 40, with fluffy light brown hair that was starting to grey and pulled back at the nape of his neck, a thick mustache, and jovial brown eyes settled behind a pair of wire framed glasses.

He had smiled widely and walked over smoothly, striking up a conversation with the temperamental redhead. He had paused when he noticed Allen, who was halfway hidden behind Anita, Cross's gentle and loving wife. Froi had knelt before the tow-headed child, offered his hand and introduced himself. After Allen had hesitantly shook his hand, he had stood and declared he and his sons would help them move in. And so three boys, only the youngest close to Allen's age, had been pulled out from the house to lend a hand.

The first, and eldest, was a boy named Marie. He was almost at legal drinking age, being roughly 19, and wore shaded glasses over his blue-grey eyes and it only took Allen a few minutes to realize the man was blind. Despite this, he easily walked over to a row of boxes and began to move them, following Anita's

The second boy was younger, 15 if Allen had to guess, and seemed to have much more energetic , to say the least. He bounced around, spiky arctic blue hair waving around with him. Daisya grinned at Allen, patted him on the head, and proceeded to help his elder brother unload boxes.

It was the third child that really caught his attention. Though in complete honesty, it was because he had first mistaken the long haired boy for a young, pretty girl. The scowling boy was barely older than Allen, but the grumpy and threatening air he gave off almost scared Allen. Almost.

He had long black hair, and it was prettier than most girls, Allen decided. But not Anita's, hers was the prettiest. It hung loose around his shoulders and fluttered slightly in the breeze, but as lovely as the boy would have been, the scowl ruined it. The boy - Kanda, as Froi had said - glared and gave off an aura that made Allen want to run off. Instead, he inched further behind Anita, who simply smiled kindly at him, tucked a strand of loose silvery hair behind his ear, and settled a hand on his shoulder.

And that's how it began. The first month was filled with hate and rivalry and careful coldness, but at some point it had faded to a joking, somewhat friendly teasing between the two. So that's how it was. For the next five years, they fought and annoyed each other and never let a chance to get the other in trouble pass by, but they were friends and it wasn't something you could deny. They settled into a steady, comfortable rhythm and the very thought of separating the two was enough to have many regard their relationship as 'sacred'.

Kanda was always there. Always. Even today as Allen sat in the garden and remembered the life he had once had.

They sat in pleasant silence for what could have been minutes or hours - possibly only seconds had passed - until Kanda broken the quiet.

"You've been coming here more often -" an observation, nothing else - "I'm going to guess you're hiding. So, from who?" There it was. It was a heavy question, but had such a simple answer that it left a bittersweet taste in the albino's mouth.

"Uncle Neah," he replied shortly and quick to the point.

There was a heartbeat of surprise, and then - "Why?" Kanda wasn't looking at Allen, instead fiddling with the petals on a nearby rose. It wasn't shame or some other trifle thing that kept him from looking his friend in the eye, but rather an air of sheer disinterest. But he wasn't, Allen knew that, even if it was only him who could tell with the Japanese boy.

Allen wasn't sure how to answer, the words jumbled up in his head. Thinking carefully and tapping his fingers to an unheard melody. A deep breathe and his thoughts were settled. "It's just so different, you know?" He paused, continuing when he got no strange looks from his friend.

"I mean, Uncle Neah is nice, really really nice. And he acts like the ones he love make up the world, and only them. But it's so weird. To go from Cross to Neah so quickly and suddenly and it's just so weird. It's like I suddenly got the ability to see, and it's so strange and I just don't know how to respond and - oh! I'm rambling, I'm sorry Kanda." The shorter boy apologised, wringing his hands. He would need new gloves soon, these were becoming worn and dirty. He knew he could always use the rather nice ones Lenalee gave him, but he didn't want to spoil such a lovely gift. The soft, white leather gloves were already his favorite and he never wanted to see them tossed away like any of his others. Kanda did not miss this movement, however, already caught onto the fact that that the younger of the two was anxious.

"Hmph. Whatever, it's fine. You're human after all, so just shut up and enjoy the nice weather already, will you?" Allen smiled. The statement was short and simple, and to anyone else Kanda would have seemed annoyed. But Allen knew better. It was the Asian boy's own way of saying I understand, and I'm here for you.

The rest of the day fell away, the sun laying waste on the horizon, but the two talked and talked until it grew too cold for the outside. So they moved indoors, into Kanda's room and spent more time in the ephemeral quiet and peace between them.

I wish we could stay like this forever, Allen thought sleepily later that night, as he dozed off in Kanda's bed, their shoulders pressed together and their hair becoming a soft, tangled mess.

The End.