A/N: This came from a meme on LiveJournal where you put your iPod on shuffle, and write a ficlet for the first ten songs that popped up. It can be any fandom, any pairing, whatever you want, but you only have the length of the song to write it. This drabble was done using the song "Got a Suitcase, Got Regrets" by Tom McRae
He supposed it had to happen sometime.
Exorcists and Bookmen were never meant to mix. Meant to stay neutral. But now, as Lavi scans the damage done, he isn't surprised by what he sees, by what he should (but doesn't) feel.
The entirety of his stomach has been blasted open by the akuma bullet. He can feel the sick black stars spreading along his face and neck and arms like Allen's fingers on warm summer nights. He's not ready. He'd fought and fought this, hadn't he? Trained to avoid something as simple as being shot through.
And… he's not ready. Not in the slightest. There's still so much he needs to do, needs to say, needs to celebrate and mourn. Needs to embrace Allen and thank him for all he'd ever done. Needs to kiss him. Needs to make up for all of those stupid missed chances that Lavi can't help but remember now.
The bitter words of his documents float behind his eyelids, and he feels like he's floating, drunk like at one of Komui's Christmas parties. Feels the tickling sensation of feathers… or paper. Like cards. Cards that he'd let Allen cheat it, cards that are thrown in his face when he wins, cards that so closely resemble Tyki Mikk's and that makes him uneasy.
He hadn't played a good enough hand.
He hears the voices floating over him, and he closes his eyes and in his mind, he imagines them all together, welcoming him home after a long mission. Allen with his smile, Lenalee with an embrace, Komui, Reever, Yuu…
They fade, and he feels his world crumble into the dust fragments he leaves behind. Lavi dies alone and cold in a biting December snow.