Hey there! I know what you're all thinking, "Where's the third chapter to Captive Angel!" Well, it's not coming until Christmas day, however, I came up with this brilliant idea for a starting to a drabble series, 'cause I have all these little ideas running through my head, none of which are long enough to be stories! So...here's my first one.
I blinked at my reflection in the mirror, again, I ran my hands through my black hair, attempting to mess it up more and checking for any signs of blonde roots showing in the mass of it. I smiled, the signature hint of insanity touching my eyes, shadowing my face. Then, I sighed, slumping into the chair next to the wall across from the mirror.
I checked the clock, the hand ticking closer and closer to midnight, a much ignored passing of time. No one cared that I'd lived for another day. No one cared that I had forced myself to live one more day, just so I could be alone. I looked at my reflection again and winced.
Perfect.
I looked just like him, just like the person with whom I loved more than anyone else. With one exception, I was darker. I was the polar opposite of him. I was like Mello was to Near-had either of them still been alive. I put my thumb to my mouth, biting it and tilting my head, quickly drawing it away.
It was too familiar. It brought back to many memories. Memories of a day veiled in black and white. The sun in his hair, a small smile on his lips as we talked, our eyes never leaving each other, hands clasped tight. But I couldn't feel it. Because in memories-much like dreams-you don't feel.
But this-this was my most drastic move. The most insane thing I'd ever done, second to killing my parents. I stared at myself, wide red orbs catching the moon and glinting menacingly back at me. The clock struck midnight, a haunting sound in the dead silence.
Sadly, I knew, somewhere, he was also awake, probably alone, maybe thinking of me, probably too high on caffeine to remember. I looked at the moon in the reflection of the mirror, momentarily sure I saw him standing behind me, a hand on my shoulder.
Actually, I could feel it, too. I turned, and there he was, extending his hand toward me, a small smile on his lips. I shook with the effort of not jumping to him, to smell him.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" I finally managed to force out, a childlike command, I stood up. Grabbing his hand tightly in both of my shaking ones.
"I have come to wish you farewell," he murmured, the hint of an English accent riding the waves of a low baritone. And then, he began to disappear. I tried to grab at him, pull him closer to me, but I couldn't. He was already faded.
That was the night Kira killed L.
The night I vowed my revenge.
The night I went
stark...
raving...
Mad.