35 Years [D. Gray- Man Fan- Fiction]

The Promise

Chapter 1: The Promised

Puddles of crimson, big and small, trailed after the young man in his late teens, whose white button shirt top with black vest and pants, and donned in brown trench coat drenched in his own sweat and blood from the grazes and deep cut across his chest he earned after the last fight he was engaged in, as he dragged himself away from the crowd into an alley where no one would see him. Whimpering in pain, the young man leaned on the wall for support. He dropped the huge, broad sword in the hue of black with white as an outline and cross that run from the tip to the hilt on the ground that clanged when it hit the stoned ground. The blood trickled down his chin as he slid down to rest his tired and battered body with his back on the wall. His head held down; his damped short dark hair obscuring his face as he panted, chasing for the air to fill his lungs though he knew it will never satisfy it as he waited for the time to lapse until he kick the bucket that

he was unable to fill though it only had one goal.

Looking up at the black sky, he wished to see a falling star no matter how ridiculous it may sound as the sky was pitch black. Not a single star can be seen.

"You're really hopeless, aren't you?" He told himself in pity. "Man, I'm screwed up." He chuckled to himself before coughing blood that added to the stains on his clothes.

Silence fell over him as though trying to ease the dull ache he was feeling all over his body; from head to toes. His body almost felt numb because of his minor injuries and the major deep cut on his chest, made it difficult and painful to breath and his head was pounding, but he can bear with it. He can still carry it on, but not the wound in his heart. It was so painful he would rather rip it out of his system and was so deep that should it heal, it would leave a scar, reminding him of how painful it was.

To lost and betray.

"Neah?" Came an almost feminine voice from a corner.

The lone young man turned to his left just in time someone rounded a corner and saw his pitiful state. The new comer in same clothing as the fallen one except he had no coat on him and had a shoulder length brown hair gasped upon seeing the guy he sought and cried, "Neah!" And, he rushed to his aid.

"You came..." the injured one who goes by the name Neah smiled a smile that showed his everything; love, dreams, goal, pain, loss, betrayal, and burden.

"Of course I did. I've been looking for you since then. C'mon, let's get you somewhere safe and treat your wounds." He ranted, suppressing the panic as he shuffled to carry Neah in his arms, but before he did Neah declined the help by gently pushing the other's right shoulder with his left hand.

"No, there's no need to..."

"But-"

"Allen, listen. ...I want you... to get out of here... before he found us. Look for... my br- brother and..." he coughed blood again. The taste of iron lingered in his tongue.

"Neah!" Cried Allen.

"He is... the only one y- you have. Please... watch after h- him."

"No! You must come with me!" He exclaimed, desperate to save the fallen.

"... Even if... I wanted to... I can't. I'm sorry... Allen."

Allen's head tilted down, creating shadow on his face from his brown locks situated at the crown; his lips quivered and bit it in frustration. He knew Neah won't make it but...

"Use me." He told him and stood in front of him.

Neah could only stare at him, not comprehending what his companion meant to say, but nevertheless he was stunned.