Chapter Text
The worst thing about cleaning is that it never seemed to have an end.
Whether it was in underground tunnels far below the surface, or in a palace fit to house hundreds, dust and filth just seemed to be an inevitability, set on manifesting out of thin air. The type of certainty that hung over your head as you slavishly went through the motions, knowing all too well that you’d be back to go through the same pattern in just a matter of days.
In some ways, Allen was lucky that he was stuck on a rotating roster of duties. His position rarely allowed him to spend more than a couple of days with the same people and chores, thus ensuring some level of notoriety to the mind-numbing tasks. It was one of few silver linings offered by his chosen lot in life but was far from infallible when the hour was late and his body ached in places he hadn’t known could ache, and the sour knowledge that he was once again falling behind on his reading, set in. Not to say that Allen hadn’t expected the toiling. If anything, he’d been counting on it with the hope that the methodical work would help keep his overactive mind from spilling over where it was not welcome.
With an exhale that he could practically feel in his bones, Allen tiredly deposited the miserable-looking rag into the bucket with dirty water and leaned back onto his haunches to cast the positively shining floors a satisfied look. The chatter and hushed giggles from his — however momentary — coworkers acted as a backdrop as he tiredly hoisted himself onto his feet, taking extra care not to jostle the bucket hanging off his aching arm. Expectantly, he turned to cast the head of their little cleaning operation, a look.
Ms. Clarence, an old woman in her late 60s whose sternness was the subject of plenty of late-night gossip, was busy scanning the hallway with a meticulousness that wouldn’t be out of place on a war general.
Pleading eyes regarded the imposing figure, almost nervously awaiting her judgment. After a moment of silence so potent that even Allen caught himself restlessly picking at a loose thread, the woman finally declared the job ’good enough’ with a half-hearted wave and a heavy sigh.
As if released from a spell, the hallway immediately descended into a blur of motion as the rosy-cheeked cleaning attendants swept through the hallway with renewed vigor. Discarded buckets, rags, and the odd tool meant to assist with some of the more unreachable nooks were hastily gathered as excited voices bounced off the walls. Far more gingerly, Allen adjusted his rolled-up sleeves as he moved towards his own pile of dirty cast-offs to be dumped on whoever was on laundry duty. Although… Allen squinted thoughtfully at nothing as he bent down to gather his things, wasn’t he supposed to handle laundry today?
”Not in a hurry, are you?” Ms. Clarence’s drawling voice noted as she almost silently slid up next to Allen’s crouched form. Without missing a beat, Allen turned to face the woman, his usual polite smile firmly in place.
”I figured that I might as well enjoy the breather before I start with the laundry,” Allen replied easily as he rose from the ground with a slight wince. Grey brows furrowed as Ms. Clarence cast him an odd look over the brim of her slightly skewed glasses.
”Artie has laundry today,” she said slowly.
Allen hummed as he half-heartedly tried to recall the morning’s instructions, rattled off at a frightening tempo by one of the more impatient Overseers. He had admittedly been distracted, but the words felt familiar enough. Mindlessly, he adjusted his grip around the bucket as he threw a glance in the direction of the numerous figures already hurrying down the hall. Names weren’t typically his strong suit, but puzzling out which one ’Artie’ was from the group was far from difficult. Next to her beaming friends, Artie looked like a wilting flower.
”Oh, well I’m sure she’d rather go to the market with the others.”
The sigh from Ms. Clarence was all exasperation.
”The youngsters have you wrapped around their fingers,” she concluded in an almost accusing tone. Allen’s smile became a tad more genuine as he let out a huff of amusement at the thought.
”I wouldn’t go that far,” he offered with a hint of good-natured teasing, ”but it feels like a waste to keep her from missing out when I don’t have any plans.”
The look Ms. Clarence deigned him was positively scathing, but as far as unimpressed glares went, it was a solid six out of ten on Allen’s scale of intimidating looks.
”This better not be charity, Mr. Walker.” She only replied coldly after a moment. ”I have no interest in getting any unnecessary sick-notes from the infirmary because you over-worked yourself into exhaustion.”
”Wouldn’t dream of it.”
It was clear that Ms. Clarence didn’t trust his easy-going attitude as far as she could throw it.
”Besides,” Allen continued breezily when it was clear that he wasn’t getting the extra hours (and extra pay) so easily. ”I have this weekend off, so there’ll be plenty of time to recuperate.”
”Artie will cover for your next scheduled laundry shift,” Ms. Clarence decreed as if she hadn’t heard him. With a haughty sniff, she landed him with a solid look as he visibly deflated. ”I know your type, Mr. Walker. It’s all work no rest, and all that road will lead you to is an early grave.”
”I’m only contracted for two years,” Allen reminded not entirely unfriendly. ”I intend to make these last months count.”
”You’re not asking for an extension?”
Allen felt the corner of his mouth twitch at the genuine bafflement coloring the normally so level voice.
”I’m not,” he confirmed breezily. If anything, Ms. Clarence only looked more befuddled at that.
”Is the contract not satisfactory?” She pried, and hadn’t it been for the notoriety of Ms. Clarence of all people doing said prying, Allen would’ve most likely shut her down a lot less kindly. But as it was Ms. Clarence, a figure Allen had found himself somewhat amusingly charmed by, he found the usual irritation that normally accompanied people digging into his business, easing out into something less biting.
”Oh, it’s quite generous,” Allen assured with a beaming smile, because for people without money or family name to assure the former, it truly was. Just not for him. ”Unfortunately, I got prior commitments, and this was never meant to be long term.”
”That’s a shame,” Ms. Clarence said sincerely as she distractedly folded her apron. ”Your utter lack of understanding of mandatory rest aside, you’ve worked hard and throughly for these past months.”
Allen wordlessly inclined his head, accepting the praise for what it was even if a part of him would always despair at the lost free time as a consequence of his diligence. Still, the frown marring Ms. Clarence face didn’t lighten up, and after a moment of intense scrutiny, she looked away with a tired sigh.
”Truthfully,” she began almost bitterly. ”I was thinking of recommending you to the Overseers. I know they’ve been struggling to find reliable personnel.”
A shiver ran down Allen’s spine at the thought, and he hastily forced a slightly strained laugh.
”I’m not really qualified…”
The woman merely huffed at the words, and Allen once again found himself on the receiving end of her steely gaze.
”Qualification is just a matter of experience, nothing that can’t be learned with time. Personality and disposition is a much more pressing concern.”
”I’ve been told I have a temper.” Allen tried a bit helplessly.
”Even more admirable in that case,” Ms. Clarence rebuked gravely as she considered Allen with a gleam in her eyes that was far from reassuring.
As slowly as he could, Allen took a deep breath as he took extra care to reinforce the steadiness of his smile. Only once he knew for certain that not a hint of the building ire was visible on his face, did he open his mouth to put a firm stop to the spiraling conversation.
”Either way, I’ll be leaving in a year.” The only positions that could possibly be lacking staff were the ones that needed some kind of permanence. The sort that could last for years.
”And you can’t be persuaded otherwise?” Ms. Clarence tried a final time, budding defeat already visible in the slouching line of her shoulders.
”And I can’t be persuaded otherwise.” Allen agreed with all the finality he could muster. ”Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should really catch up to Artie so she has a chance to get ready with her friends.”
For a moment Ms. Clarence merely watched him, eyes dark and full of something Allen didn’t care to discern, before she gave a firm nod. Acceptance finally made its way across her weathered features.
”If you’re certain.”
Allen didn’t deign the obvious attempt to keep the offer on the table any attention. He merely inclined his head with the due respect owed to Ms. Clarence's position and left without a word. Irritation and restlessness twisted in his gut as he cast a shuttered glance out the window, eyeing the sunset-illuminated horizon with a longing that hadn’t gotten easier throughout the years. He looked away, and with a final sigh, adjusted the slipping smile, all too aware of the eyes burning holes in his back.
By the time Allen was done, the sky had already darkened and the aching in his arms had progressed to the point where it felt like one wrong move would cause the limbs to fall off.
Long past the point of feeling merely ’tired’, Allen took a step back to give the neat rows of drying fabric a final glance over. Only once he was sure that nothing had been hung haphazardly enough to risk falling before morning, did he finally reach up to undo the black ribbon keeping his long auburn hair in some semblance of order. The last part of the routine he’d set for himself before he could finally call an end to the day’s work.
”Right,” Allen mumbled to himself as he meticulously gathered the fraying ribbon into a neat roll before slipping it into his breast pocket for easy access, ”time for dinner, then.”
There was no reply to his half-muttered thoughts and Allen wasted no time in making himself scarce before he had the chance to dwell on that particular realization. Feeling lonely was silly, he tried to reason with himself as he set off towards the kitchens. Settling down at the capital for work had been a choice he had made all by himself, and regretting it now was not only counterproductive but also stupid when this solution meant a much-needed supply of income for the following year.
As far as hastily glued together plan Bs went, this was as close to fucking perfect as it could possibly get.
He faltered midstep, just barely catching himself before he’d full-on stumble as the almost biting thought crossed his mind. A wheezing sound slipped out before Allen had the mind to stop it, followed by a slightly exasperated string of nervous chuckles.
On the other hand, maybe he should’ve left sooner. He might’ve developed nerves of steel during those three years, but no amount of wits in exchange for an internal dialogue with the voice of that man could ever be a fair trade.
”I’m just tired.” Allen reassured himself in the empty hallway with an air of weariness. A growl, long-drawn and gurgling interrupted the sound of his footsteps, and feeling more than a tad embarrassed, Allen laughed as he placed a hand on top of his protesting stomach. ”… And hungry too.”
As luck would have it, the laundry rooms had been built relatively close to the staff kitchens. This late in the evening, there’d be no point in walking all the way to the food hall where pre-portioned meals were provided on a strict schedule. That had definitely been somewhat of a gradual learning curve for Allen who had grown up with irregular meals throughout the better part of his life. The idea of simply dropping whatever you were doing for something as deferrable as a meal had been more than a little foreign. This led to situations just like this one, with Allen rushing into a closing kitchen to the exasperated looks of the kitchen staff who were both unimpressed and unsurprised by his abrupt appearance.
”You really should know better than cutting it this close by now,” Marisa, one of the younger girls manning the kitchen, sighed as she dutifully waved Allen towards the table half-full of dishes and leftovers.
Making sure to look properly chastised, Allen settled down at the edge of the bench with a small laugh, one hand already reaching for one of the half-emptied breadbaskets.
”It’s a bit embarrassing but I guess I’m still used to eating as I read,” he admitted distractedly as he broke a bread roll in half, only realizing his mistake when a handful of surprised looks turned his way.
”You’re an academician?” One of the men elbow-deep in dishes who was normally seen either chopping up large quantities of vegetables or manning the large pots, spoke up with surprise. He offered a slightly lopsided smile as Allen glanced up at him. ”Sorry, kid. Can’t really see you being the kind to sit silently in some corner. You can barely sit still long enough to properly enjoy a meal.”
Ha. Should Allen consider it a compliment or an insult?
”Oh, don’t listen to him,” Marisa said with an eye-roll as she not-so-gently sent a light kick in the direction of the man. ”I’ve seen Allen at the library plenty of times, he’s definitely the type.”
”And what were you doing at the library, freckles?”
Marisa’s face took on an impressive shade of red, further contrasting the splatter of dark freckles dusted across her nose bridge and cheeks.
”I read!” She replied snappishly to the laughter of her friends and co-workers.
”Take your own advice and don’t listen to Fred,” a woman busy storing away newly cleaned dishes chortled good-naturedly as the man faked a look of offense. ”We both know everything more advanced than a recipe is beyond him.”
”Thanks for that, Anne.” Was Fred’s dry reply as the teasing turned on him.
Allen watched as the kitchen staff continued to bicker, a small almost genuine smile playing on his lips as he wolfed down whatever was in reach. He and socialization had a complicated relationship at the best of times. Sometimes, he craved the sound and presence of others. Mostly on the days when the unavoidable isolation that accompanied hiding oneself as thoroughly as he did felt like a physical weight. More often than not though, the silence and relief of his own company was enough to keep those lingering weaknesses at bay.
”Stew?”
Allen paused at suddenly being addressed, only somewhat surprised to find one of the girls whose name he never caught but who was usually seen accompanying Marisa, hovering nearby with a pot that looked comically large in her skinny arms.
”Please,” Allen hurried to accept as he hastily began to shuffle around the mountain of dishes to make space.
The girl — because honestly, she couldn’t be much older than 14, if that — wasted no time in depositing the pot in the newly vacated space. A reasonably clean bowl was somehow procured out of thin air and quickly filled with a generous heaping of lukewarm stew.
Allen accepted the bowl with gratitude, only to pause as he eyed its content.
”Meat?” He muttered mystified as he eyed the cubed pieces floating amongst the boiled vegetables. ”Did I miss a holiday?” He had admittedly, not paid last year’s market any attention beyond casually checking out the various stands filling the streets, but as far as he knew, last year’s market day hadn’t been such an occasion.
The palace-provided meals were definitely on the filling and nutritious side and far from the worst meals Allen had choked down throughout the years. But while fish and vegetables were a staple part of the weekly diet, meat was a far more rare treat.
There was a snort only halfway hidden by the sound of splashing water.
”The queen is back.”
Allen paused, spoon halfway raised to his mouth as he processed the new information with a frown. He knew she had left, how could he not with the way the entire palace seemed to be set abuzz at the slightest move the royal family made, but he had no recollections of hearing anything about her return.
”Since when?” He asked aloud as he lowered the untouched utensil to the bowl without a bite.
Fred didn’t answer, suddenly preoccupied as he jerked his hands out of the water with a hissed swear.
”Around noon,” Marisa answered instead as Fred grumbled over the small cut on his index finger, visibly distracted as she neatly tucked her skirt out of the way before kneeling in front of one of the open cabinets. ”I don’t think she was supposed to return home this early, though.”
An awkward silence settled and Allen bit back a sigh as he picked up his spoon.
”Well,” Fred spoke up again with a slightly forced grin. ”At least dinner got a hell lot fancier thanks to it.”
Marisa grumbled something unintelligible from her place by the floor, but from where Allen sat there was no hiding her somewhat fond expression. Almost instantly, the tension eased as the workers continued to bustle about. No one seemed eager to revisit the topic willingly, and Allen who quickly busied himself with eating, saw no need to press the issue. Even if he went out of his way to avoid overhearing anything, he’d still know at least five versions of the event before Tuesday morning at the latest. Even earlier if he forewent his planned weekend of isolation.
”Oh, right, before I forget!” Marisa suddenly spoke up as she rose from the floor to properly face Allen. ”Nattie asked me to pass on a message if I saw you!”
Allen felt his eyebrow twitch as he dipped his final bread roll into the last bits of stew.
”’Nattie’, huh?” He asked instead, delaying the inevitable as he took a bite of the soaked bread. Marisa scoffed.
”Calling her Ms. Clarence is too stuffy when she practically raised me and the others. Besides, she’s put way too much effort into me to kill me for anything short of treason!” She declared jokingly with an undercurrent of pride.
”And with ’treason’, she means accidentally dropping and wasting another pot of soup.” Fred cut in with a loud laugh, much to Marisa’s clear ire. Despite himself, Allen couldn’t help the chuckles that joined the group’s laughter.
”Not sure I’d take the gamble myself, but if you insist.” Allen added good-naturedly as the noise ebbed out. Marisa only offered a challenging grin.
”Don’t think you can distract me so easily, I know all your tricks!”
Damn it. Allen sighed as he put aside his empty bowl, the urge to retire for the night with his mountain of unread books clawing at him.
”What did Ms. Clarence want?”
Silence resettled at the question, and Allen took care to note how almost everyone either busied themselves with renewed vigor or took to looking anywhere outside of Allen’s vicinity. In short, it wasn’t promising. Even Marisa seemed hesitant, something Allen had been partially convinced was an impossibility for the headstrong girl, and almost unconsciously he steeled himself in response.
”There’s been a conflict of schedules,” Marisa began carefully. ”You’re relieved of whatever duties you had planned on Monday, and instead you’ll be running some errands for the Overseers in the royal wing.”
Allen exhaled.
”It’s only momentary!” Marisa hurried to clarify with an air of caution that wouldn’t feel out of place when grappling with a feral animal. ”Nattie asked me to express her apologies, she didn’t know things would turn out the way they did!”
”It’s alright.” Allen assured neutrally as he rose from his seat. ”I’m guessing she’s turned in for the night already? I’ll make sure to iron out the details tomorrow.” The fact that were both supposed to be off duty was of little consequence.
”Thank you for dinner, I appreciate you holding onto it for me.” Allen said genuinely as he moved to pick up his bowl, only to be intercepted by Marisa who all but swept it off the table.
”I’ll handle this, don’t worry!” She assured as she offered him an apologetic look. ”Knowing you, you’ve been in full swing since early in the morning. Why don’t you take a proper weekend for once?”
”Sounds good,” Allen agreed noncommittally. ”Well then, good night!”
He left the kitchen to scattered ’good nights’ and ’see yous’, but made no move to ease up on the iron-clad control keeping his expression in place. Beneath his skin, irritation and something vaguely reminiscent of betrayal thrummed ominously like the air just before a lightning strike.
Without breaking his set pace, Allen took a deep breath before releasing it. Gods be damned.
The only thing to soften the blow was that most likely, the unspoken urgency wasn’t made up in an attempt to snare Allen to some higher-up post he had no interest in, and was instead probably loosely connected to whatever had triggered her Majesty the Queen’s early homecoming. Which meant that Ms. Clarence was no more at fault for having to dispatch Allen than Allen was for being dumb enough to do his job properly.
Lost in thought as he was, it was only once Allen glanced up and was promptly greeted by an unyielding brick wall instead of the expected staircase leading down to the staff’s residence, that he realized that somewhere along the way, mistakes had been made. For a moment, Allen simply gaped at the wall, a part of him fully expecting the thing to realize that it was supposed to be a staircase and promptly disappear, but as the moment stretched out it became all too clear that it had no intention of doing such. He spun around, looking for any point of familiarity but no, there hadn’t been a mysterious wall erected in front of the staff dormitories during the day.
”…”
Allen wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.
”… I must be really tired.” Allen muttered uncertainly to himself as he adjusted his glasses and glanced around the unfamiliar hallway that he had somehow unwittingly ended up in. How it was possible, he had no clue. He’d headed to the kitchen from the dormitories and vice versa while being lost in his thoughts for what must be hundreds of times and never had there been an issue.
Realizing that he’d get nowhere by just standing around like a fool, Allen hesitantly began to retrace his steps to the best of his ability, but no matter how he tried to make sense of the windowless hallway, there wasn’t a single spark of familiarity or a point that seemed like it could lead him back the way he’d come. By the fifth crossroad, Allen was all but ready to lay down and accept his fate. The insistent pressure had at some point turned into a full-blown headache that Allen was fruitlessly trying to ward off by mindlessly rubbing a thumb against his pulsating temple.
In hindsight, perhaps Allen should’ve been more alert when traversing unknown territory after dark, but as it was, he found himself wholly caught off guard as he rounded a corner and stepped out into a moonlit hallway.
The vague familiarity ended up as an afterthought as Allen unabashedly stared at the lone figure further down the hall.
The young man, because even with his back turned towards Allen there was something inherently… Young, about the figure that stood haunched over, forehead pressed against the brick wall. Long dark hair tumbled down his back in waves. Wispy and soft-looking, that together with the black slacks and a shirt so white that it seemed almost glowing in the pale moonlight seeping in from the row of windows, added to an appearance that felt almost frail.
The ability to gauge people based on the smallest and briefest of details was a skill Allen had zealously honed over the years. First as a tool of survival, and afterwards as one of convenience. Getting a cursory read on the people he met came easier than ever nowadays, and yet there was still something incredibly eerie about how easily he could almost feel the aggravation and barely contained violence all but oozing from the figure.
He didn’t notice that he’d stepped closer before it was too late. A fully-body twitch visibly seized the man even as he remained stubbornly still. Everything from the exuded energy to what Allen’s prized logic was all but screaming at him, demanded he’d back away and leave. But beyond that, there was no feeling. No nagging sense of unease, no hair-raising dread, not even a trace of the weariness that usually went hand-in-hand with the knowledge of a certain threat.
”Hello?” Allen surprised himself by asking. ”Are you alright?”
Dark hair rippled as the figure shifted, and suddenly Allen was greeted by the silver of a face, a single golden eye peering out from behind bangs that framed tear-stained cheeks.
Allen stared, fully expecting at least some form of trepidation to curl in his gut, but still nothing. He frowned.
”Do you need help?”
The other remained stubbornly silent and hadn’t it been for the stare that felt like it could burn holes through him from sheer intensity alone, Allen might’ve thought that the man wasn’t aware of him at all.
As the silence stretched out Allen began to wonder if he was going about it the right way. For all he knew, the man was in full control of the situation, meanwhile, Allen wasn’t even sure if he knew where he was.
”Okay,” Allen began somewhat awkwardly, socialization skills downgrading at the same pace as his waning energy reserves. ”Well, I’ll just… go.” He finished lamely as he stepped aside, fully prepared to walk around the stranger and towards hopefully more familiar grounds. But just as he moved to pass, something hooked around his upper arm and halted him to a startled stop.
Allen could count on one hand the amount of people who could casually touch him without sounding off fine-tuned warning bells. This stranger was decidedly not one of them, and yet, and yet—
His eyes instinctually sought out the hand firmly keeping him in place and hesitantly, he followed the foreign limb until he made eye contact with the strangely luminous eyes.
’What are you?’ Allen wanted nothing more than to ask, even as he remained quiet.
The stranger offered a slow, cat-like blink as he visibly straightened out of his earlier hunched position.
”You’re real,” the man suddenly said, sounding almost as mystified as Allen felt as he curiously tilted his head to the side.
”I am?” Allen agreed slowly, unable to entirely mask his sheer befuddlement.
”You are.” The man intoned forcefully.
Right.
Allen had never been more grateful for his ability to maintain a perfectly blank expression as he was now. Once it became clear that the stranger was perfectly content to keep up his unblinking stare down, Allen figured that a switch in tactics was desperately needed.
”I’m a bit lost,” he began with a bright smile as something deep in his mind steered him away from any thought of a more aggressive approach. All while he subtly tried to pull his arm out of the hold. ”Could you perhaps point me in the direction of the staff kitchens?”
The man blinked.
”You’re hungry?”
”Not really!” Allen shot down with forced cheer. ”Just a bit tired—”
If anything, the stranger only seemed delighted. Somewhere in the very back of Allen’s head, he could feel something react to the visible shift.
”Why didn’t you just say so?” The stranger asked with a beaming smile that looked downright deranged when combined with the still-drying tear tracks running down his cheeks.
Allen opened his mouth only to promptly shut it again as the stranger gave a gentle push backward. Far too startled to offer any type of restraint, Allen took a few stumbling steps back and through something. A cold sensation brushed against his back and nape — not unlike the feeling of falling backward into the water — and it was with a startled gasp that Allen felt like every hair on his body stood on one end.
The jarring sound of piano keys being slammed down all but shook Allen out of his stupor. Gone were the stone hallway and moonlight, and in their stead was a large, warmly lit room that vaguely reminded Allen of an upscale suite.
”Mana,” snarled an unfamiliar voice, and almost comically, Allen felt the stranger perk up.
”Neah,” the newly dubbed Mana all but crooned as he finally loosened his grip. Still reeling from shock, Allen made no move to step away.
”Ten minutes, I asked for ten minutes, you— Who is this?”
The voice went from murderous to carefully blank and Allen knew without turning around that whoever this ’Neah’ was, was probably staring holes into him. With an albeit shaky breath, Allen let Mana gently tug him into turning around.
Had it not been for the much shorter hair, Allen would’ve thought that he was facing Mana’s mirror image. The man — Neah — stood in front of a white piano, expression a blank canvas and golden eyes unflinchingly meeting Allen’s dazed gaze.
”Uh,” Allen began eloquently. ”Hi?”
Neah’s stare remained brutal in its intensity before he slowly raised it to pin his look-alike in place.
”Mana,” Neah repeated in a dangerously soft voice, mouth opening, and closing as he seemingly struggled to find the words, and yeah, Allen could definitely relate.
Mana on his end, seemed completely unperturbed. The melancholic air that had all but surrounded the man like a raincloud was nowhere to be seen, even if the effect still lingered in the form of dried tears. Something that Neah didn’t seem entirely unaware of, going by the light frown creasing his brow. After studying them silently for a moment, he sighed, relaxing his stance into something less obviously defensive.
”Go get cleaned up,” Neah ordered in a slightly thawed voice. ”I’ll deal with this.”
Warily, Allen returned his wandering gaze to Neah, the first inklings of trepidation beginning to stir but… He frowned. Nowhere near the normal amount, given the potentially lethal situation he’d somehow found himself in.
”Be nice,” Mana muttered reluctantly as he stepped away from Allen with a final brush against his shoulder. Neah reared back as if struck, visibly dumbfounded as he watched his twi— lookalike’s retreating figure.
The second Mana disappeared with the gentle click of a door sliding shut, Neah’s attention all but whipped towards Allen with renewed intensity.
Allen, somehow feeling more burnt out than he did after the 48 hours of wakefulness rummaging through a jungle, could only somewhat bring himself to offer a pained smile in response.
”I don’t know who you are,” Neah began dangerously as he took a step closer, expression dark with murderous intent. ”But either undo whatever you’ve done to him, or they’ll have to scrape you off the wall by the time I’m done with you.”
Allen frowned.
”I’ve done nothing.”
Neah’s expression briefly twisted into a sneer before quickly morphing into a cold smile as he continued his deceivingly unrushed approach.
”Right,” he murmured with the softness of a satin-swaddled knife as he leaned closer, close enough for their foreheads to almost touch. ”Then undo your nothing.” Neah continued with a snarl.
Calmly, Allen regarded the face mere centimeters away from his. There’s no doubt that the man was serious.
And still, there was nothing.
”I should probably feel something right about now,” he heard himself murmur.
Neah blinked in response.
”Like fear. Or worry.” Allen continued, still eerily calm as Neah slowly leaned back, straightening so he could fully take in Allen’s illogically relaxed posture.
”You should.” He agreed drily.
”So really,” Allen continued as if he hadn’t heard. ”I should be the one asking. What have you done?”
Golden eyes stared incredulously at him before the thinly pressed lips twisted into a sardonic smile.
”You sure have guts,” Neah almost whispered, ”to try and flip the narrative on me of all people.”
Allen pointedly refrained from commenting. Somehow simultaneously hyper-aware of the hands inching towards his throat and yet still unable to muster up any emotion other than vague irritation.
”Really,” Neah continued almost fervently, ”I’m impressed.”
Purple eyes narrowed as Allen continued to regard the other.
”I’m not.” Allen informed briskly. ”And frankly put, I’m tired. So either get on with the murder attempt or let me leave.”
A startled laugh escaped the other as he openly stared at Allen in bewildered amazement. An amazement that did nothing to ease the blatant hostility all but oozing from the man.
Fingertips brushed almost shyly against Allen’s neck, but just when he had steeled himself for the inevitable feeling of hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing, the sensation abruptly froze in place.
”You—” Neah forced out in a strangled voice, eyes wide and jaw slack from shock. Allen tilted his head, uncaring for the hands still just shy from fully wrapping around his neck. Something told him, rather insistently at that, that they weren’t a threat.
”Me?”
Neah blinked, visibly shaking himself out of some sort of daze. Almost distractedly, Neah stuffed his hands in his pockets as if they hadn’t been on the brink of strangling Allen mere seconds ago. A painfully neutral expression was plastered across the other’s face, completely wiping away any traces of the earlier shock and hostility.
”… Tell me your name,” Neah demanded monotonously, and hadn’t it been for the intense look in his eyes, Allen might’ve been compelled to believe the apparent disinterest.
”I’m just a contractual worker,” Allen replied vaguely, not trusting the sudden switch-up. Neah cast a quick glance at Allen’s clothes as if to check the validity of Allen’s statement. But before Allen had the mind to feel awkward about the less-than-ideal state of his clothes, Neah’s gaze returned to meet his.
”’Just’, huh.”
The words were spoken in a low voice, barely louder than a murmur to be honest, and even though they had been spoken out loud, Allen doubted he’d been meant to hear.
”I have no idea how or why I ended up here,” Allen said after a moment, more to fill the sudden silence than for the want to say something. ”Or who you two are…”
In hindsight, Allen shouldn’t have opened the path down that particular road.
”I’m—”
Allen slammed a hand over Neah’s mouth before he could fully process the motion. Neah fell silent, looking about as shocked as Allen felt at his own bravado.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, Allen hastily pulled away.
”Don’t,” he said. ”As far as I’m concerned, this is either a hallucination or possibly a daydream brought about by a severe sleep deprivation.” He coughed a bit awkwardly at Neah’s blatantly unimpressed look, but dutifully soldiered on. ”So introductions really aren’t necessary.”
”You really don’t know who we are?” Neah asked with narrowed eyes, clearly not believing a word out of Allen’s mouth.
”I don’t know anything.” Allen agreed shamelessly, stressing the word ’know’.
For a moment, Neah’s face was the definition of blank, before a slightly unhinged grin split his face in two.
”Surely you have an inkling.”
”I wouldn’t dare make any baseless assumptions,” Allen insisted.
”Are they really baseless when you have proof?”
Ack—
”I don’t have proof of anything,” Allen began carefully as he warily observed Neah’s grin from the cover of his bangs. ”Other than possible grounds for a chat with a health professional regarding my uncharacteristic lucid dreams.”
Neah threw his head back with a laugh, seemingly endlessly amused by Allen’s graceless flailing.
”Fair enough,” he said as he calmed down, still smiling. ”Well then, Mr. Dreamer, I assume you’d like to be on your way then?”
”Please,” Allen agreed hastily, not quite able to keep himself from throwing a desperate glance over his shoulder at the large entrance. For a moment, Neah silently observed him, expression neutral and completely devoid of anything that could hint at his inner thoughts.
”Any requests?” He asked after a moment as he took half a step back, and only then did Allen realize how close he’d been standing.
”Requests?” Allen repeated with a puzzled expression.
Neah rolled his eyes.
”Where do you want to be dropped?”
Allen hesitated. Immediately, every reason arguing that agreeing was a bad idea jumped to the forefront of his mind. He opened his mouth to politely decline, only for Neah to beat him to the punch.
”Either you agree and we can both wash this matter off our hands for tonight, or you’ll have to walk out of those doors, get caught by the guards ad risk turning this into an even bigger mess.”
Allen froze. Right… shit.
”For tonight?” He asked instead, picking up on the not-so-subtle phrasing.
Neah smiled.
”For tonight,” he promised, clearly not keen on elaborating.
”… Near the staff kitchens then… please.” Allen conceded with a sigh.
Neah’s smile grew a tad as he theatrically swung his hand through the air in a twirly wave. This time, Allen was prepared and managed to just barely pick up on the subtle shift in the air. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and stared in open amazement at the wall of white glowing softly behind him. Curiously, he reached out to touch, only to hastily pull his hand back as the appendage easily sunk through and disappeared.
”Huh.” Allen murmured to himself as he stared at his reappeared hand, before lowering it as he turned to look at Neah, who had remained a silent spectator throughout Allen’s curious inspection.
”Goodnight then, Mr. Hallucination.” Allen said with an easy smile.
He didn’t wait for a reply, instead, he turned towards the light and took a bold step forward. He barely had time to offer something that vaguely resembled a prayer in the privacy of his thoughts as he stepped through the veil.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself once again facing the now dark and empty entrance to the staff kitchens. Curiously, he turned around, unsurprised to find the gateway of light gone without a trace.
With a final sigh — albeit uncertain if it was of relief or trepidation — Allen tiredly adjusted his glasses and took off. Leaving behind the quiet hallway.