Clutching a tiny charcoal pencil between his fingers, Nea tapped the writing utensil anxiously against the dining room table; beads of sweat gradually beginning to show themselves past his dark purple-colored bangs.
Where the hell is he? It doesn't take a whole bloody hour to fetch a pail of water...
Another restless glance back at the clock hanging over the door to their home. The handles on the instrument seemed to be going twice as fast for Nea–Almost as though it was mocking him for not bothering to take better care of his brother by going three-times as fast as it normally would.
Why hasn't he come back yet?
Amber eyes flickered back to the pencil he repeatedly smacked against the table. Making an endless, never-ending clicking noise travel threw the small cottage.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
What if something happened?
He kept telling himself he was just over-reacting, that Mana had probably ran into some of the neighbors and had forgotten the pail on the trip back. Maybe he had decided on grabbing a bite for them to eat at the store, and had switched to do that instead. I doubt it...
He would be the one to do it, not Mana.
Nea couldn't help but worry; couldn't help but feel that oppressive, unsettling aura of nervousness draped over him like a dark cloud. Couldn't help but feel like something wrong had happened.
Mana had always been the more mindful, more responsible of the two brothers. Always the one lagging behind to help another, or staying after school to aid a teacher or two, usually the one to do the lawn for an elderly neighbor or the one to do the dishes...Nea was the only one who knew the truth about him–or at least somewhat of the lies.
Nea knew about the scars Mana always tried to hide–and Mana knew about the times where his little brother would come home, his entire body crisscrossed with bruises, cuts, and scrapes from the one too many street fights he would get into. They kept each others secrets, these brothers, and loved each other as dearly as any two siblings could–if not more. Which was exactly why the pony-tailed man was absolutely and completely worried shitless.
What if Adam tried to...his thoughts trailed, not wanting to imagine what his brother's abusive and angry ex-boyfriend could try and do to him or his younger brother.
Of course, after the break-up, Adam had tried to get Mana back despite his protests. Trying to talk to him while on his way to work, or 'accidentally' running into him at the grocery store, things like that. However his particular...methods, had only made the off-and-on relationship fizzle out like dying embers. Adam was still persistent and had eventually resorted into blackmail...and abuse. Nea hadn't liked this in the slightest–because, when Mana was uncomfortable, Nea was uncomfortable–and had gotten into the very nasty habit of threatening Adam right back, with the occasional scuffle here and there. But soon the mock fights had gone to dreadful fist-fights; and then both Nea and Mana were coming home with scars on theirs wrists and necks. The two brothers resulting in living under the thumb of a sadistic madman.
Pencil, clock, pencil, clock, pencil, clock.
He needed to find Mana. Why was he just sitting here? Why wasn't he running threat the forest like a lunatic searching for his older brother? Why was he here, caged inside this too small cottage at this too small table stuck in this too small chair? Why wasn't he–
Slivers of wood went flying as the pencil snapped apart in his long fingers. Thin, needle-sharp fissures running up the skinny spine and shards scattering across the table. The instrument shattering before his eyes...
Nea threw the chipped remains of the broken pencil aside, dusting the pieces quickly into the waste-basket. Mana wouldn't like unnecessary garbage on the tab–
Mana. Mana still wasn't back yet. Why wasn't he back yet?
A boom of thunder sounded loud and clear in the distance, causing Nea's amber eyes to pass over the cottage window. He hadn't realized it was going to rain. Another glance at the round clock hanging over the top of the door. It had been even more than an hour now…He needed to find his brother.
Before he realized it Nea was out the door, sprinting threw the frigid night air, not bothering to take a lantern nor a coat–he could see fine in the dark and knew the woods that gathered around their small cottage like the back of his hand. He took off in his wild dash into the night; the thick rugged trees swallowing him up like oppressing shadows, and the only thing he could distinguish on where he was placing his feet that slipped and stumbled in the mud-slicked underbrush was the different shades of black of the giacangutian forest of darkness. Okay, so maybe he didn't know this stupid forest like the back of his hand, but he needed to find Mana–that was the priority. Nea hadn't realized it begun to rain until he saw it splattering into wide puddles and beading down scratchy tree trunks in thick ribbons. Droplets stung his body like tiny needles and streamed threw his hair, gathering at the edges of his long lashes and dripping off.
The teen spent running for what seemed like endless, almost hellish-like circles; his legs aching and breathes coming out in gasps, he finally staggered to a stop, each one of his steps feeling as though his shoes were being weighed down by the heaviest of lead. He paused to rest one hand against a tree, the scraggly bark rough and chilled against his already numb fingers. But it wasn't the texture of the bark that took his breath away...
It was the blood.
Could this be Mana's blood?
Then he noticed the hand. Sticking out from underneath the dense nest of twigs and leaves piled over it as if to try and conceal the crime–which in reality it probably was, but Nea only saw the hand.
"M...M–Mana?" He hadn't realized he'd said this aloud.
An anguished wail left his throat, drowning in the scream of the storm. Falling to his knees, he scrabbled pathetically at the garbage mound with shameful, senseless fingers until the waste was cleared and only little scrapes clung to his brother's pale, bone-white skin.
"Mana," he choked out, hooking his hands underneath his brothers underarms and tugging him out from beneath the pile. His brother wasn't moving. Blood was everywhere.
However, as he looked closer, and actually focused on the fallen ones face threw the blur of rain; Nea was dimly able to recognize he difference. That this, in fact, was not Mana.
...This was Adam. Or his corpse at least...Mana's ex-boyfriend? This was one of his brother's hair ribbons though, entangled around the man's fingers like netting or chains. Nea tore his gaze away from the battered body, the bile threatening to surface into the waking world as it bubbled hotly in his throat. He threw up behind a tree a moment later.
After wiping the sticky grime from his mouth with his sleeve, not even caring at this point, he tried to spot any signs of a struggle. If this was Adam's blood, and not his long-haired beloved brothers–and Adam only had Mana's hair ribbon...Then did that mean his brother was still alive? Cold, wounded, and lost, but most defiantly alive? Nea's heart seemed to swell like a balloon with relief, and for a brief second he could forget about the chill in his bones, the blood on his hands, and most defiantly the corpse with it's head in his lap. His brother was alive. Thank god. Rising to his feet with quivering knees, Nea ripped his gaze off the carcass gathering water on the muddy ground, and turned back towards the bekoning shadows of the forest.
Mana...I'll find you...he thought as he dove once again into the sea of blackness. No matter what it takes...Just like you'd always said...I'll never stop walking...
He found Mana's remains an hour later.
A/N: I realize this is probably grammatically and plot-ically incorrect with both D. Gray Man and the laws of grammar but note that when I first wrote this, it was a random idea given from a random friend to help me write more–obviously it worked, and I chose to apply the D. Gray Man fandom to it. My dearest apologies if you are unhappy with my horrible work *bows*
*disappears in a puff of smoke*