A/N: So this is what my mind comes up with, and forces me to write out before I can sleep at night. I'm sorry if this ends up terrible.
~Disclaimer~ I own nothing from D. Gray-Man! Really!
The Forgotten Dream
Her face lit up when her gaze met the white-haired Exorcist's. As did his. They started walking towards each other through the crowded street, it was the "first" time they had seen each other since the war ended. It seemed neither of them were able to contain their excitement as when they actually reached each other, they hugged tightly, her childish frame fitting perfectly with his slightly larger one.
And then they pulled away, and everything was off. The formerly crowded area was barren, not a living thing in sight, not people, nor plant, nor light in the buildings. Road's face had twisted up in a large, not physically possible, smile. The tips of her mouth literally reached her ears, and her eyes were no longer able to be seen, like the old puppet version of herself she used to have. She faded into air, leaving Allen standing there, hugging nothing at all.
Allen opened his eyes wide, barely a second taken for the action. He found himself in his bed at the old Exorcist headquarters, as he'd stayed there with everyone else that had no place to go. He arms were wrapped around his flattening pillow, and he sighed to himself, tears prickling out the corner of his eyes. He hugged the pillow even tighter to himself, using it as a substitute for actual human contact.
His small tears were turning into sobs as his mind replayed the last moments he was actually with her over and over again:
She was looking at him, oblivious to the action behind her. The Earl standing behind her, with a knife. Her smile was bright, too bright, and she was standing up from her chair, starting to walk over to him.
And then he jabbed the knife through her chest, the tip of his poking through her white blouse, which was quickly being stain with red from the wound. It's what she got for betraying him.
That was when Allen himself was overtaken by rage, running up to the man who had just killed his nearly beloved, and ended the war on his own.
But nothing would save her now, she was already gone, the light drained from her eyes, and that smile still gracing her lips. Allen's actions were always viewed as heroic, to everyone except one person, himself.
For over two weeks, he'd sat by her corpse, not eating or drinking anything, only when it was force-fed to him, to keep him alive. To keep the Order's "hero" alive. Nothing was able to take him out of his depression; even years after, the dreams still plagued him. It was fitting; after all, she was the Noah of Dreams, and that was always when he saw her. Always, without fail, every night when he slept, she would be there.
But he never remembered it the next time he went to bed.
They were only ever, forgotten dreams.
A/N: …Please review, I really want to know what you think of this.
I'm sorry, I need to go sob out the feelings I gave myself now.