All that I am

[likethelight]

Who: Allen Walker and Shouto Todoroki with guest appearances by The Fourteenth...
What: September Paleblood effects, and getting trapped in a version of Allen's horrific world and life for a time courtesy of a cursed book/the Absolute Immersion prompt 🙂 Many CW for mentions and flashbacks of Allen's very abusive childhood. also red light districts. (to date: pet death/abuse, child abuse, suicidal impulses of a child)
When: Later September
Where: Their house, and then Victorian England sorta


[ When Shouto had become blind, it had been Allen who fret and fussed more than he needed to. Hovering by his side and always ready to take his arm and steer him gently this way or that, explaining whatever the goings-on were with an animated chatter born first from concern and then increasingly just out of enjoying conversing so later on. Describing the world and especially the people around them like someone reading a particularly good story aloud might and getting caught up in it with an actual delight.

It wasn't so bad for him after all, he'd say, since he lost first his sense of taste (that was insulting but something he dealt with just by pouting at dinnertime) and then touch. Annoyances more than anything, nothing that bad. Touch bothered him more than he thought it would, leaving him staring down at his hands with an unsettled expression from time to time when he thought no one was looking, but he tried to avoid letting that on.

When Allen lost his sense of sight, he became almost unsettlingly... quiet, actually. Not complaining even a little. But off, perpetually distracted and a little jumpy at the slightest noise or sense of movement. With it ironically around the same time Shouto finally regained his own vision. Something he expressed relief for -- it'd be rather silly and unfortunate for them to both lose their sense of sight at the same time, wouldn't it? -- but that was a little hollow too.

Whether Shouto thought to read to him or it happened by accident when Allen was half-dozing near him one day when he asked him out of bored senseless curiosity what he was reading, it was one of the few things that made him perk up. Even if he usually dozed off on him, it was comfortably and amicably so and eased a lot of his restlessness. Something he started to look forward to and ask him a little more eagerly each time what he was reading that day.

Today, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of this new book when he came back with it. Musty and old, and something that just... unsettled him on some very deep, instinctive level. Like if black magic had a smell. Easy enough to pass off at the explanation it was handed to him from someone in Gaze offering free books to passerby, everything there was a little weird and derelict, and the explanation it was a story (apparently) about an exorcist who saved souls was enough to both baffle and intrigue him. Weirdly... spot on, wasn't that? But curiosity alone was a good enough reason for him to shelve any misgivings and settle in, leaning his chin on his shoulder and peering over like he was actually trying to peek at the pages he couldn't see. Also, Shouto's monotone could put anyone at ease (and to sleep). Allen's disarmed and lulled off pretty quickly, relaxing as the tale begins and meanders vaguely around a nameless boy who loved too much. Who was thrown at odds against the home he had always known first for wanting to save those they wanted him to destroy, and then for finding out he was fated to become their enemy and the very thing that would destroy them and the world.

Allen stops dozing off and becomes very awake. Very quiet, and very still.

Shouto can get to the part where the boy says goodbye and leaves in order to keep his home safe, and that's when Allen will fumble for his hand. Grasping his wrist tightly with alarmed urgency. ]

Shouto. [ It's laced with a strange sort of fear, a rising panic. Stop reading.

It's also too late.

Reality... warps. Uncomfortably so, like vertigo but pulling your soul inside-out instead of your stomach. It feels like falling. Falling forward into freefall, which... is accurate. At first it feels like falling into a vacuum, and then the wind is quickly rushing past their ears. They burst through what feels like a thin glass pane of light that shatters harmlessly around them and melt away, geometric patterns in the sky, and the air is crisp and cold; the first kiss of winter, and for the first time smelling clean and entirely without the odor of blood, decay, and industry that clings to Trench. Into the middle of a city park, rows of brick Victorian buildings lining the sides of it with a clocktower and castle in the distance.

They're also about fifty feet up in the air, upside-down and in rapid freefall. ]

Comments

[swellter]

[ You're not Allen. Not by any measure. It disturbs him on a fundamental level to see his face contort into an uncanny vision of him. It's a lie. One he dislikes far more than he thought, but it's his response that finally tips him over the edge.

He stiffens, jaw locked at the outright lie set before him. ]

You're lying.

[exmemoriam]

Am I? [ His voice lilts, pleased. It's nothing likely how Allen's voice would dip and rise pleasantly with his demeanor, but mocking instead. ]

You weren't there. You've barely been here at all, whatever fairyland you crawled out from. No one who calls himself a "hero" so blithely could have possibly been here for even a fraction of what "Allen" has lived through, let alone understand it. It's laughable how naïve that is, or do you think anyone who says their side is the "right" and "good" one is automatically so?

They're the ones who hunt Allen even now. People who would call themselves "heroes", right alongside the ones condemned as devils. People who didn't care that all he wanted was to "save" as soon as they didn't agree with his terms, with who he wanted to save. Who won't hesitate to put him down like a dog and execute him, all in the name of being righteous heroes of humanity.

[ He struggles against the blankets like he's trying to sit up, trying to lean into his face, although he can't. With a feral glow in his eyes and an unpleasant smile masking and mixing with the very real bite in his tone. ]

Who are you to know Allen when I've known him all along?

A newcomer. A nobody.

1/2 | cw: mentions of suicide

[swellter]

Yes.

[ He says with more confidence than one would expect without knowing the details of their relationship. ]

I know Allen. He might be reckless at times, but he's not suicidal.

[ And that's what it comes down to. He spent a week mourning his death while reconciling with the fact that the person who came back, if he came back, might not be the person he knew. It added another layer to his grief. One he didn't know how to address until he saw him. The surge of joy at seeing him, the utter relief he felt when he realized he still knew him. It was then, at that moment, that he had his answer. His physical form never mattered, it was the soul painted with care with an arrangement of memories that he loved so much.

That was who Allen was to Shouto.

Everything Nea was not. That's why, for the first time since his arrival, his composure begins to crack. The closer Nea draws to him, the more Shouto pulls back. It's not a singular word or moment that turns the tide but a combination of everything he's seen and heard. Why didn't you say anything? The thought that Allen might be hunted by people who consider him a villain makes his stomach turn, but it's the realization that this caricature set before him might actively be trying to kill him that finally sets him off. ]

It doesn't matter who I am.

[ It never did. Not when his family was suffering, not when his-- there's a pause there, a look of confusion under the rising anger. It's gone within a moment. He moves on without an answer because that's not what's important right now - what Allen is to him - what matters is getting him back. ]

Neither does the Order or you.

[ He doesn't care about any of it. Don't you understand that?! He told you from the start what he cared about, and never once did he indicate there were caveats attached to his feelings. In the same way, Allen loves humanity, Shouto loves his family and friends.

Unconditionally. He's ready to fight for any of them, even when they openly hate him. Hurt him. Allen never once questioned his pursuit of wanting to get to know his brother. Despite being killed by Touya, he never asked him to reconsider his heart. Never questioned him. From the start, he understood him in a way few have ever have, more than Shouto would ever understand him, but that's the thing about the heart: it doesn't seek a reason for what it feels; it just does. ]

2/2

[swellter]

[ Who are you to know Allen when I've known him all along?

His eyes slant down, lips tight at the corners where his temper starts to bleed through. He stops moving back, the moment of confusion turning into determination. ]

Let him go.

[ A hand snaps forward, gripping him by the back of the neck, and yanks him forward; face to face. This time, Shouto stares straight into gold in search of grey. ]

Allen. [ Said in a commanding tone. ] Wake up.

[exmemoriam]

[ Temper, temper. It's such a small shift in the nuance of Shouto's expression, the way his mouth tightens, but one Nea relishes. He doesn't even look surprised when he's scruffed and pulled forward. His eyes snap wide, yes, but not in shock or fear, but a strange sort of feral fury. He leans in closer, nose to nose. ]

Stay out— [ There's a sharp movement and the blankets rip apart and shred as he wrenches through the measly fabric bindings on his arms in a surge of power. All the shifting under the blankets like he had been uneasy? A ruse while he tested how to leverage against them. How loathsome to have to rely on Innocence.

That hand snaps up to grab Shouto's throat again though, with all intent to crush it with Allen's full strength like someone would a bug. ]

—of things you know nothing about.

[ It should only take a second to do it, too. Crush someone's windpipe entirely without even breaking a sweat, like it's absolutely nothing. That's the sort of casual strength Allen has in that inhuman hand even if he rarely shows or indicates it; if he ever loses his cool enough to not be painfully aware of his own strength he can splinter apart a solid wooden door just from slamming it behind him in what should otherwise be a regular teenage huff. It's part of why he's so hesitant to touch people with it. Nea has deadly intent to use it this time which means the moment his fingers close around his throat, a single squeeze will be all it takes to make it the last breath he drew his last.

But that doesn't happen. He might begin to squeeze, hard enough to mistake as just a warning—but he just stops then. Stares at Shouto, not understanding, as his eyes locked with his own mismatched ones narrow abruptly. Furious. Confused.

The thing about the duality of Allen and Nea, of two souls—two sets of memories locked in the same body is that while one thing is going on with the one that's conscious, there's something else going on for the one that's "asleep". Because to sleep is to dream, and dreaming deep within the depths of their own souls they can be very much conscious of themselves in such a state. Allen might not be aware of outside reality, the physical world, but he's aware of himself and knows he isn't in control of his own body. The other side of the story taking place concurrent to this one. He's in there, already trying to understand the situation and find a way back, because that's just how he is. Trying to find his guidepost for the way back from oblivion, for all practical purposes a "ghost" now himself.

Because the truth is he should have already faded away. Become nothingness as Nea's memories eroded his own enough to finally gain conscious control of the body, but he didn't. Isn't. Not just for his own stubborn will to exist, because that on its own isn't enough. It needs a direction, a guidepost back to the world: an anchor.

His bonds. Because only the mutual affection between people is what's enough to surpass even the limits of the soul once it's been separated from the body. The only thing that can challenge the natural order of things and the nature of life itself, and what Allen himself had once said was what made humans truly formidable and stronger than they were given credit for. Not the stubborn willpower of the individual, but the love between people that can bridge even the spiritual and the physical. Transcendence.

That's the nature of akuma—and humans. That the rest of the world doesn't want to admit are one and the same.

That's why when Shouto calls out to Allen, why when Nea lunges and grabs his throat again—he just seems to freeze in place. Left hand starts trembling, like he's being restrained, like there's push and pull, and his fingers won't clamp down. Why Nea's eyes widen and dilate, furious and wild with outrage and disbelief even as his body seems frozen in place—

And gold begins to swirl with silver. ]

[swellter]

[ Allen isn't the only one who had to hesitate for fear of hurting someone growing up. Everyone at UA's hero course had to watch their temper. One foul mood and someone could end up in the hospital. Shouto froze half a stadium once because he was upset with his father. He apologized to Sero for his lapse while melting him out of the ice. Similar episodes among his peers weren't uncommon. What mattered was taking responsibility and ensuring it didn't happen again. Maybe that's the difference between them. Shouto grew up knowing he could hurt someone but wasn't made to feel out of place for it. Wasn't labeled a monster for his quirk or the way he looked. Allen didn't have that. A foundation of teachers working with him to find a better way to control his powers. Encouraging him in his pursuit to help others. A place where even the oddest quirk was allowed to grow into something unique. A safe place where he and his peers could explore their powers, team up, and challenge each other in order to grow. Where a loss meant a failed objective not a loss of life.

Akuma and the Order. A war between humanity and a token of Innoncence governed by the unknown. It all means nothing to someone who hasn't lived the utter despair and misery of this world. He comes from a far kinder place to truly understand Allen, let alone Nea's perspective, but that doesn't make him any less aware of what comes next. Any hero worth their salt would be able to see the move and counter it.

In an instant, Allen freezes in place in a rapid crescendo of crackling ice that covers the whole of the bed. Despite knowing that he can still crush his throat, Shouto stays where he is. Call him green. Naive. ]

Allen.

[ His voice stays firm as if he didn't just avoid being killed as his left hand slowly warms the back of his neck in a loving manner. ]

Stand up and fight. Or I will.

[likethelight]

[ It's funny how to believe is to be called naive. That's how it always was with Allen, despite his being such a wily and worldly person not prone to letting the wool be pulled over his eyes. Despite being someone who knows you have to be a little underhanded sometimes just to survive. To believe in someone and their ability to overcome, in an inherent human goodness, is to be seen as naive and that's why Allen has also always been called that no matter how savvy in battle he might ever be.

When did faith in others become something to be mocked and called naive for? But that's why Allen has never belonged in his own world, too kind and too gentle to be anything other than hurt and disappointed over and over again in a world full of cruel reality.

Shouto's ice freezes him but isn't why he's frozen. His body locked in a struggle between two sets of consciousness, a push and pull, as his expression remains Nea's but twitches. Teeth grit in determination as he locks eyes with Shouto as if it's all his fault, and the clipped use of his name and disabling attack doesn't seem to tip the balance at all. It just seems to redouble Nea's will and his body trembles under the strain, the desire to crush and something holding him back.

But then Shouto's hand warms against his neck and his eyes abruptly widen, perfectly moonlike and surprised. Pale silvery grey in an instant, and his expression goes momentarily blank, softening subtly as it becomes more like Allen. His left hand goes slack at his throat.

Before something clicks and his eyes snap abruptly back onto Shouto's. Dazzlingly bright grey with himself and surprise as he realizes the moment and their position, where they are. That he's cold, that he's frozen, but Shouto's hand is also warm against the back of his neck and cradling it so gently. He stares, not understanding at first. Would overbalance and fall if not for the ice keeping him in place. ]

Shou— [ He blinks once, focusing. ]

...to? [ His hand--

Why is his hand... at your throat? ]

[swellter]

[ Golden eyes meet his in challenge under the restraint of ice. Angry. Brutal. With a desire to kill. Held back by an otherworldly force. Shouto catches a glimpse of the subtle grace of moonlit clouds floating among the stars more beautiful than the sun. The strain of a fight taking place outside his understanding tips the pendulum left, dismantling the easy detachment of someone addressing a stranger to someone addressing a loved one.]

Allen!

[ Throwing caution to the wind, Shouto holds his face in his hands, melting the ice with a wildfire lit inside him. ]

Don't give up!

[ An appeal from a man prone to subtlety. Followed by his name, slow in coming but all too familiar after months of sharing close quarters. The voice of someone who means the world to him with the power to transform his entire facade with a single word. ]

I'm here. [ He half-smiles, forgetting about the hand at his throat, relieved to hear him again. ] You came back.

[likethelight]

[ He came back...?

Back. He is back. Like before, but his relief is cut-short at realizing their positions, the cuts on Shouto's face, the dark bruising on his throat, and Allen begins trembling. Expression dropping abruptly in dismay, he sits back hard and rips his hand away. Shakes harder at realizing his hand is a perfect match to the bruising on him. There are cuts on Shouto's arms too, bandaged hands-- ]

I— [ He stutters over the word, eyes wild with panic as he scoots back in his underwear while not even noticing that. Almost falling over himself to back away from Shouto and half looking like he might bolt, half looking like he's frozen in place.

It's his worst sort of nightmare you know? This, and it churns his stomach to realize it. ]

I hurt... you...

[ The best end to any chapter in Allen's book can only ever be a bittersweet one, and this is no different. The chapter's end is in Nea, and with his being repressed by Allen once again the book begins to close. No matter if Allen were to try and get away or Shouto to reach for him, reality seems to compress and warp again. A stomach-turning sort of surreal feeling as the world around them twists and fades—

—and reality snaps back, slamming them back where they were in their living room like no time has passed at all. ]

1/2

[swellter]

[ The irony of that statement. Everyone he's ever loved has hurt him. One way or another. It does little to diminish his feelings that seem to grow exponentially at the sheer relief of hearing not a caricature of him but Allen. Feelings that don't wane even as Allen backs away, seemingly frightened. The half-smile remains, a surge of dopamine at his return making his limbs a little shaky with feelings burning through a once guarded heart. ]

I--

2/2

[swellter]

[ Before he can get the words across, reality warps, sending them spiraling back to a world of monsters and men. The transference comes in an instant, cutting off the overwhelming feeling of a heart bursting with happiness to transport them back to Trench, stealing away the moment. The chapter comes to an end, and Shouto slams back into his body still in Prufrock, seated at a small nook he built with his own hands sporting the injuries of their adventure.

Shock courses through his form the moment he lands inside his body. He gasps, the breath knocked out of him as the book slips from his hands hitting the ground like a tome of the accursed. Heavy breathing fills the room as his fingers clutch the sheets, eyes wide with the knowledge of everything that happened still coursing through him, every detail seared into his mind, remembering the state of his companion and turns in his direction with a questioning look in his eyes as he regards him with a hint of hesitation. ]

Allen?

[likethelight]

[ For a moment he doesn't even hear him, sucking in ragged breathes as he jolts upright and stares forward for a moment with wide, unseeing eyes. It's hard to even register that they're back home, even when he can smell the familiar comfort of home. There's no comfort to be had for him though, and when Shouto speaks his name he just looks up blankly at him like he's not even seeing him.

I should stay away, not risk hurting you again when I don't even understand what happened. That's what's hammering in his head why he's staring at Shouto with such naked horror, even when he's so happy to be here, to be back, to be real... And he wavers for a moment, unsure. Hesitating himself as he leans back—

—and Timcanpy surges forward. Slamming back inside of Allen with surprising force and greater surprise that he even would, when he's actually... he's almost never gone back inside of him ever since he first came out. But he does and Allen takes in a sharp breath, eyes going wide. Timcanpy...

He presses a hand against his own chest for a moment, staring for a moment in disbelief and faint awe, before he looks back up again at Shouto. Seeing him this time, even as his expression twists in conflict and his brows knit. ]

I— [ He cuts himself off, biting his lip. Conflict intensifying. I don't... I want-- ...I shouldn't... ] Shouto, I...

[ Abruptly the scales tip and Allen reaches out to throw his arms around his shoulders. Bodily and with threadbare desperation, swinging one leg around until he's in his lap and just. hugging onto him with all his might.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. ]

[swellter]

[ The comfort of 'home' comes in the form of a soul knitting back a part of itself the book cut him off from, connecting him back to the part of him that had no qualms expressing everything he felt. No words follow the knitting of his soul, only the overwhelming presence of Kizu swelling inside him, filling the emptiness in his chest.

There's no shout of his name, no boundless energy surging forward to greet him in welcome only a lament of a lost child clutching onto his heart refusing to leave. Kizu weighs heavily in his heart, refusing to leave the safety of home for fear of being left behind again in the same manner Shouto once clung to his mother. The feeling all the more poignant when Allen slams into him with open arms. It knocks the wind out of him, but he stays upright, back stiff, muscles fighting against the pull of gravity and Allen's sudden momentum. It gives weight to his presence, the intensity of his desperate hold adding to the sense of anguish he can't discern. ]

What's wrong?

[ His arms come around him, winning against gravity and sitting upright with Allen in his lap. Tension fills his muscles. Feeling feeble against his slighter frame, afraid that something is out of place. ]

Is he still there?

[ He lets go of him to frame his face in his hands, tipping his head back to reassure himself it's grey looking back at him, not gold. ]

Allen. Are you still fighting him?

[ Nervfes fill cling to him with the same intensity Kizu bears clutching onto his heart, afraid to be expelled again, similar to how Allen holds him. It's overwhelming, yet welcome in every way. If it were anyone else, he'd try to settle them down and set them aside, but Allen wasn't anyone to him. He holds onto him, mirroring Kizu's same intensity, staring back at those moonlit eyes he never wanted to be without again. ]

What can I do? How can I help?

[likethelight]

[ What's wrong? He hurt you, that's what's wrong. He became him again when he thought that part of him was left behind in that world and gone for good and he hurt you. There's nothing... he can't--

He shakes his head at first against the crook of his neck, tears already staining the material there before he feels Shouto's hands at his face and lets him tip his head back. Conflicted, so torn and dismayed still, but he shakes his head again at his question. ]

He isn't— [ is he? ] ...I don't know.

The whole time... everything here, being here— [ He's tripping over his words slightly, still shaking his head lightly as if in denial. ] When I came into being here he wasn't in me anymore. It was just me. It's supposed to be just me.

[ The one saving grace, the thing that let him breathe again to realize that here he was no longer plagued by that dark passenger anymore. No more shadows in the mirror. No more rapid countdown on his remaining days.

No more being a danger to people he cares about.

He brings his hands up to cover Shouto's on his face lightly with his own, leaning into his hands as he bows his head and continues to shake it. Tears drip between both their fingers. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[swellter]

[ The shaking mess of words delivered in tears guts him to his core where his omen hides. Shouto holds Allen through it all, watching him with heartfelt eyes that bear witness to the slow unraveling of another loved one haunted by ghosts. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness fills his heart. Haunted by his own failings in the past. ]

It is you.

[ He drags him closer so they're eye to eye. Lips a fraction apart as he tries to find the words to help him. Any words. ]

I don't see anyone but you.

[ He feels so useless in this moment, unable to do anything but hold him. Be with him. Reassure. ]

Tim would know if it wasn't you. Our omens are a part of us. A piece of our souls.

[ Their bond eternal. They could be separated but never broken. Even death couldn't break the thread that linked them. Stronger than the thread of life. ]

He can't fool him.

[ Couldn't fool, Shouto. Everything he loved about Allen gone in a single look. The same face twisted into a grotesque version of a heart he held dear. The same one that now hurt from something out of his control. He knew that feeling. ]

Sorry for what?

[likethelight]

[ The words are sweet but don't really reassure him. Tim... would he? Tim knew before, but Tim was also... Allen had never really understood it before, had wanted to deny it and called him a liar, but— "my Timcanpy" the Fourteenth had said. Tim had been there when he had become him before as well, while he was fighting it, and his presence might have helped keep Allen sane enough to fight the takeover longer but...

The little golem's presence in his chest is solemn and sweet, like pressing his little cheek directly against his heart, but it's a bittersweet thing and doesn't do anything to ease Allen's tears. He takes a breath instead, making himself hold it before he exhales shakily. It's selfish to break down like this in front of someone, to put this on you. What am I doing? He doesn't let himself do that normally, and it's the impetus to pull himself back together. His eyes flicker open and he looks back up at Shouto finally, so close now that he stills a little and quiets. Eyes crossing lightly to focus on his heterochromatic ones, and he hesitates lightly. Really trying to see him for a moment and feel how he feels instead of the storm in his own heart. It helps him breathe, and his expression gentles. Always so quiet and calm... helping to anchor Allen just with his presence. Not even a shred of doubt visible in how he's looking at him, even after he...

He swallows, bringing his right hand up to touch his throat so very lightly. ]

...I hurt you. [ He bites his lip, stomach knotting at the rising feeling to push him away and stumble back. It makes him shaky, wet and silvery eyes flickering between Shouto's with a very real fear, but he reigns it in. Don't be a coward, you promised.

Where would you run to anyway? ]

I was going to hurt you worse.

[swellter]

[ That's the thing about omens Allen never really understood: they're a reflection. A piece of their soul given physical form. He lost Tim. The one residing here wasn't the same golem he knew. He was unique to Trench, just like Allen, just like Shouto, and everyone else trapped in this place. In the same way, he wouldn't feel the same way for another Allen he'd never met, the little golem wasn't responsible for the actions of his predecessor. A line of thinking he'd gladly walk him through if he wasn't so concerned for him after everything that's happened.

It's been years since he last witnessed someone at their breaking point. He's gained perspective since then. Matured. This time, he doesn't fly off the handles at a perceived foe. He holds Allen with a tenderness that reflects off steady eyes amid the storm brewing between them, gaining momentum the moment his fingers graze his throat. ]

I know.

[ He captures his hand in his and brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center. ]

I wasn't going to let you.

[likethelight]

[ ...what an unexpected sort of response that just. catches him entirely off-guard. In those final months he remembers of struggling with the knowledge he's someone who could one day turn and hurt the people around him, all the types of ways people had responded to that concern too... either dismissing it entirely and pursuing him anyway, or believing he was a monster and an enemy, both of which just make him want to get away all the more.

...but no one ever said such a simple, obvious thing. Not unless they were promising to kill him.

So he just blinks, staring as the tears clear, as Shouto lifts his hand up to press such a sweet sort of kiss to it. ]

...! [ Words fail him and there's just a small, strangled little sound that gets stuck in the back of his throat. A different kind of tears that well. It's not even that he really believes him, but it's such a sweet show of faith that isn't blind that he can't help but be overwhelmed by it. Not with his nerves so jangled. Not when the last thing that he wants to do is fight.

Was it all just a dream then? They're back now like nothing had happened, something Timcanpy is fluttering in his heart over and trying to impress upon him. Some too-real nightmare that invaded and pulled from his own past to torment them with. Part of him doesn't want to risk being caught off-guard again by presuming safety, but the rest of him can also immediately realize the difference in himself physically. The fever's receded, the pain from the Innocence wound in his gut reacting with the Noah in him gone with it and leaving only a phantom ache. He's human. He's fully human again for that to be true, but...

But...

Helplessly, he slings his arms around Shouto's shoulders and just. buries his face against the side of his neck in response as he slumps against him like someone cut the strings on a marionette. Grateful, so very grateful and relieved while also being so very sorry and worried and... and there aren't words for so many conflicting big emotions, so please. Please forgive him as he just hugs him in response and tries to collect himself. Knees pressed tight to his hips as he clings on more than he needs to. ]

[swellter]

[ Growing up in an abusive home, Shouto would never subject himself to mistreatment, no matter the circumstances. He might not blame Allen, may even empathize with him, caught up in a power beyond his control, but that didn't mean he'd let him injure him without a fight. He was taught better than that. How could he rescue someone when he couldn't even rescue himself? He wasn't that green. Sometimes reason wasn't enough. Understanding when that switch happened is what separated an aspiring hero from a Pro. Yet, sometimes, a heart in conflict couldn't make that switch in time.

Shouto was willing to fight him in order to save him. Whether he could make that switch in time was a question he didn't have to answer tonight.

The moment Allen goes limp against him, Shouto wraps his arms around him, aware of the strong grip holding onto him. He knows this feeling. Remembers the way he clung to someone in a similar manner, aching to be near them, fearing what would happen if he let go.

Instead of offering him kind words, Shouto gathers him up in his arms and simply holds him. He runs his hands down his back in a calming manner. Present but not intruding in his thoughts. Offering a touch of warmth without his quirk. He lets his fingers follow the scar cleaving him in half. Trails off at his waist to trace the jutting bone of his hip. Down his thigh, kneading the tense muscle there in a soothing manner.

In the background, a shimmer of gold marks the appearance of a snow leopard who approaches on quiet paws. The cub curls herself beside Allen, warm back pressed to his, offering comfort in the only way she knows how. ]

[likethelight]

[ It's not a matter of if he'd try to defend himself or not. It's if he could. Even Allen doesn't know the full extent of the Fourteenth's powers, or even a little, but the Noah are all so powerful as to feel like gods among mortals, even against an Exorcist like him. Powers like the power to "choose"... to choose whether or not to gravity existed for them, to let something pass right through their bodies, to reach into their bodies and play with their organs, or to reject the reality around someone else and crush them in a complete vacuum. The Fourteenth is a mystery, he might have something just as or more dangerous. Likely more. He couldn't even be killed by the other Noah 35 years ago and was waiting to be reborn inside him. That's Allen's fear: becoming something so evil and so powerful he couldn't be stopped.

That's the scale of power difference in this war. It's not a clash of titans. It's a few desperate humans who yes, are extremely powerful, but who clash with even more vastly powerful demihumans commanding millions of undead weapons who could obliterate them if they were fully motivated to. Why they haven't yet is still more missing pieces in a war that encompasses the whole world that he's come to realize he doesn't really understand at all.

But still. The sentiment is one he appreciates more than anything—and Shouto is more powerful than even Allen when it comes to immobilizing and stopping someone without killing them. Exorcists aren't known for their ability to restrain and stop, but to destroy. But it's also something he's resolving to never let be put to the test again, not now that he knows it's again a possibility. That was his mistake.

I stopped trying to find out more... stopped trying to understand him or why this was happening. Because I thought it didn't matter anymore. Maybe that was his first mistake.

Kizu is who surprises him the most and pulls him from his thoughts though. Not even realizing she's appeared before he feels the warm and downy-soft press of fur against him, and that makes him finally catch himself with a caught breath. Ah, she'd... she's never done anything even remotely like that before for him. And he stares for a moment against Shouto's throat, eyes wide in awe and realization.

Breathing out shakily finally, he leans back slightly when Shouto runs his hands down his scar, spine curving under them and hips rolling back as he resettles his weight so he can look at him. No squeaks of surprise or fluster, no shock; his mental capacity is nowhere near able to manage that at the moment. Even his state of undress, which he does not recall how he ended up in his underwear, is something he can barely bring himself to even acknowledge let alone care about. So his expression just flickers softly at the continued path of Shouto's hands, subdued and hard to read—delicate and nuanced with a quiet sort of awe—though eyes do dip to his own stomach for a moment. Just to confirm what he already felt, that the old wound is no longer open and the feathers from his Innocence have subsided, before they flicker back up to Shouto. Drawing his lower lip between his teeth and biting on it lightly in quiet inner conflict as his thumb traces along his hip bone and that finally does make his stomach knot up with some butterflies. A weird kind of jittery, but also very calm.

Loving. He did that to you, all of that reality came crashing down on you too, and you're still just being so... loving.

His throat threatens to close over at it, at those soft and reassuring warm touches, and he reaches gently for Shouto's hands before he unravels under them. So very carefully as it had looked like they were injured too, and he brings their hands up between them so he can press a soft and reverent sort of kiss against his knuckles. Nuzzles them faintly. ]

...Does it hurt?

[ His voice is quiet, so delicate, like he doesn't want to break something in the air between them. ]

[swellter]

[ Tenderly. A taste of his reality made him want to hold him tenderly. The feeling is so overpowering, it induces a similar response from his omen, now a solid weight tucked into his back. It's not that he's kind Allen, but that you have known so little kindness. It makes him want to hold him at every turn, something he's starting to uncover about himself.

His palms stop kneading his thigh when Allen reaches for his hands, gently turning them over to reveal thin red cuts, slightly inflamed, and crisscrossing in every direction. They've long stopped bleeding, the wounds healing neatly. Later, they'll leave thin scars no longer than a centimeter.

He shakes his head. ] Not anymore.

[likethelight]

[ Anymore. So of course it did before.

Allen's expression flickers lightly, eyes dimming momentarily with a heavy sort of sense of responsibility, but not seeming to despair either. He stares at the thin lines of what will almost certainly be scars, heart feeling like a dead weight in his chest, before he gives a small and very gentle sort of nod.

You can't run from this, so don't, even if lingering dread and panic makes him feel a little sick to his stomach. But he's also entirely boxed in by the both of them, by such loving and tender concern, which just leaves him feeling mixed up and subdued, throat still tight. Even you, Kizu... solid and warm against his back in a way that makes him want to just sink under his pressure and into Shouto. It's different than when he had accidentally touched Kizu directly before, him consciously touching her even if it was reflex to catch her, before realizing he was touching much more than just her. This isn't like that, maybe because it's just her resting against him. But...

It's just... gentle. And touches his heart in a funny way even he can't really describe.

How unfair. ]

...how?

[ His voice is so soft, barely more than a whisper, with his eyes still on the fresh wounds on his palms. But he's calm. He sounds calm, if... tired. ]

[swellter]

[ It did, at first, like any cut did. This was no different say for the source. Feathers that resembled Allen's Innocence. That hurt him and the entity inside him. It wasn't the cuts that worried him. It was the hours of sitting at his side, checking his fever, adding a touch of cold to bring it down. Watching his fitful sleep, knowing he made it worse by touching them. Later, when he's not caught up in the sheer relief of having him back, he'll backslide, and go through another iteration of feeling like he can touch him without asking.

Now isn't later, and he's still running high on seeing him again, not Nea, but Allen. It permeates every part of him, even Kizu mirrors his relief, boxing him in with her solid form to guard him, in her own way, from the predators in the dark, while her Sleeper gets caught up in the details. She doesn't need words or rest, yet she curls up silently behind Allen, emitting a bundle of heat reminiscent of her Sleeper.

How? It takes him a moment to catch the way Allen stares at his hands to understand the question. You mean... He looks at him, quiet and thoughtful. He had time to ruminate over what happened, while you were feverish. If anyone is at fault here, it's him. ]

I attacked you. It was my fault.

[likethelight]

[ Allen's eyes flick back up to Shouto's a little quickly at that. A little sharper and extremely knowing at his choice of words, although Allen knows well enough to hold his tongue. The corner of his mouth twitches for a moment, as if in quickly masked distaste.

You sure didn't like it in situation that wasn't even as extreme when he said it was his own fault he got hurt after all. You're an extremely contrary person with a lot of double standards, Shouto, but it's only irritating when they get used to place Allen on a pedestal. And deeply insulting.

So he squeezes his hands very gently, so very mindful of the lacerations, but pushes them back then. ]

I don't believe that for a second.

[ Yet he says it not in an accusatory tone, but in one quiet and a little mournful. And Allen leans in, pressed close from being sandwiched by the both of them to kiss the corner of his mouth so very gently, so very chastely. As if to try and say he isn't actually mad or upset either.

Just hollow. ]

I'm sorry.

[swellter]

[ The difference between his reaction to hurting Allen and his reaction to being hurt by Allen is time. He had time to think about what happened. Analyze it the way Aizawa taught them to avoid an unwanted outcome. His reaction back then was a gut response mixed with shock. His reaction now is a conclusion he came to after hours of ruminating over it objectively. ]

I used my ice to freeze the feathers. It worked in my nightmare. It didn't work in Edinburgh.

[ This was the consequence of it. He bandaged the cuts, but in the transfer back to Trench, they disappeared, along with the rest of the clothing he was wearing. His Victorian garb was swapped for slacks and a soft light blue sweater that's now slightly askew.

The kiss, while welcome, feels sad and a little tired, leaving him wondering if the days they spent in Edinburgh were catching up to him or... he looks at him. ]

You look tired.