Category: Gen
Characters: Allen, Link, Cross
Warnings: Disturbing imagery, I guess.
Disclaimer: D.Gray-man and its characters are the property of Hoshino Katsura.


He isn't asleep even though it's 12:30 am, and it's starting. His fingers begin to twitch just a little, and then after a few more hours of lying awake and sweating, he begins to burn. There are insects crawling all over his body. Invisible ones, maybe imaginary ones, but after everything he isn't sure what's real and what isn't and whether he can afford the luxury to differentiate between the two.

He scratches at himself madly trying to get some relief, but after itching and peeling himself to the point of uprooting blood on his skin, he just finds that it itches more. So he scratches more, but the insects remain. The last time he felt this way, he thinks, was when he was working in the circus, since he always had fleas. And there's so much blood now.

He wonders just how he hasn't woken Link up yet. He shakes his head several times and bites into his pillow, grinding his teeth against the hot fabric. Even his teeth hurt, and he thinks about just how long it would take to scratch and pick them away. He wants to cry just because he thinks these things, and even though his chest heaves with...something, no tears come. And now his fingers hurt, which just makes everything all the more wonderful, since he'll have to take care of that too. He begins chewing on his right pointer's fingernail. It might take him a while, but he'll get it off properly. Then he'll work on the others.

The alarm clock goes off at around 7:00 am, and he curses as it wakes him up from a light sleep. He hates that damned clock, since it always rings too loudly. Link stirs in his own bed and blindly gropes around to turn it off. "Wake up, Walker. Get dressed."

He says nothing.

"Walker. It's morning."

Still nothing, but he manages to groan a little. He winces as he buries himself under the covers. The light cotton stings against the pink of his open sores.

"Are you ill? I'll take you to the infirmary. You were turning about all night..."

"Link... I. Ah."

"Come on. Get out of bed." He can tell from the tone of his voice that Link's bothered now.

"I, um..."

"All right, I'm coming over there." He curls in bed more and tries to resist the tugs on his sheet, and he knows already where this is going. He doesn't think he'll ever forget the expression on Link's face after that.


He's moved to the infirmary later. Not the normal kind of infirmary, a different one. He's the only one in the vast room, and everything is a crisp, aged white. He wonders why white is supposed to be a soothing color as he picks absent-mindedly at the skin on his stomach, occasionally peeling bits off. He prefers blue. And the nurses really did a bad job of restraining him, since it only took him an hour to break his bonds. There's also a bedside mirror next to his chamber pot, and now that Face is talking to him again, and it's getting harder and harder to ignore. He tells it to shut up, and surprisingly it's quiet for a while.

Somebody, maybe a nurse, is coming in to give him a bath soon, and he fidgets just thinking about it. He doesn't mind baths, but he hates the thought of being nude in front of someone else, especially since his pubic hair is still filling in (but hey, he's getting there.) He thinks that it's funny that he still worries about things like that, but he does. He's never even had proper sex with a girl, which makes him feel even worse. And that one kiss left a lot to be desired.


It's dark now and he doesn't even know where the day went.


He lounges in bed the next morning, wide awake, with an odd, vinegary sensation in his eyes. Almost like tears, but something completely alien. It's an odd word to describe tears, he thinks, but it fits, and it's almost like he's grown beyond his own sadness into something much deeper and infinite.

His master is going to come visit him today. He needs to see someone, anyone, and his friends aren't allowed to visit anymore. He hears a door open.

"They'll be taking you away tomorrow," Cross says nonchalantly, drawing on his cigarette. Allen wonders if he's allowed to smoke in here. "You could get dangerous, apparently, but from the looks of things," Cross whispers dryly, running his eyes over the sheets smattered in places with blood, "you're more of a danger to yourself than anyone else." Allen nods absently and licks his lips again, tasting blood. He doesn't remember getting cut.

Cross interrupts his thoughts with a low chuckle. "You did give Leverrier's little fag a scare."

Well, he muses, his master really didn't change that much after all, even with the hug. He'd miss that. And the food. It's been days since he's eaten. Cross ruffles his hair and tells him something about seeing him later sometime.

"...goodbye, master."

Cross blinks, and smiles sadly. "Don't worry. I'll be around."

He thinks that his master is a terrible liar, but at least he feels better. He falls asleep for a short while, still dreaming nothing.

His skin feels foreign the next morning, so he doesn't want to mess with it. He stares up at the ceiling as blood slowly trickles into his eyes. Its origins are a mystery to him, and he tries to blink it away. He finally just closes his eyes.

It's finally taking over just like It said It would. The Face told him so, too. He had to admit that It drove a hard bargain. And It won. He does the only thing that he's learned to do despite all of his troubles, and smiles.