AN: OKAY, SO IF YOU PEOPLE ARE READING THIS BECAUSE OF MY PJO FANFICS THEN:
Be my guest and read on, do not be hindered by the fact that this is an anime fan fiction because anime rocks and is cool.
And if you are here to simply read my story, then I am more than pleased to welcome your presence.
Just saying, this will be a multi-chaptered fanfic, not a one-shot. AND IS YAOI.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN D. GRAY MAN, FOR IF I DID, I WOULD GIVE IT TO ALL MY FAVOURITE -MAN FANFIC AUTHORS AND TELL THEM TO MAKE THE YULLEN HOT. WHICH HAS NOT HAPPENED AS OF LATE, HENCE THE FACT THAT I IN FACT, DO NOT OWN -MAN.
ENJOY, MY BABIES.
When people talk about war, I don't know why, but they like to use a lot of numbers.
They make it seem like loss can be measured by following a simple formula, and that when its numbers do not amount to much, what is there to worry for? Only a handful died. Only a handful have suffered.
And for them, a handfuls of lives are not of any importance.
When people are in a war, they like to see it from a certain point of view. The "right" way. For them, it is black and white. They're bad, we're good. If you are one of them, you are bad. Send the bombs, they would say, the civilians are the ones who we are aiming for, after all.
And they still think that they are good.
When in a war, the higher-ups would only need to wave a hand and move his troops around on a map coloured differently with the colours marking different territories. And if you watch as they push a whole squadron of troops to the frontline to be massacred with nothing other than sadistic pleasure and ease within their expressions, you can do nothing but wonder if this is all a game to them.
Soldiers are but pawns in their game of chess, and they mean absolutely nothing.
If they have lives? Of no use to our victory. If they have families? Only something to threaten them with. If they die? They are but tools.
And with all the burdens, faux smiles and mock concern, I realise that there are no good and bad sides in a war. There is no black and white.
Just a lot of shades of grey.
I have lived my life for the sake of others. My left hand for demons and my right for humans. But as he would often ask, with more bite than courteous, what about yourself, do you not care for yourself?
It is snowing when he asks this as if he honestly does not understand my martyr-like choices and way of life. But I do not see it that way, not anymore, no. There is a line between risking your life and choosing to throw it away for your own reasons. I think my line of thinking has shifted more to the latter.
And I stop what I am doing, my hands freezing up as I let my fingertips brush down and fall from the fragile spines of the books on the musty bookshelves. I turn and smile, not daring to look into raging cobalt seas, because I think that is all I can manage before I begin to step away.
I can stand alone. I do not need him.
I pause in my thoughts. A voice giggles, bordering on the brink of insanity, Have you forgotten, it seems to mock, you are not pure. You are not strong. My heart clenches and a laugh echoes within my head alone. I am a Noah. A heretic. A pawn. A traitor. filthy.
He does not need me.
I feel his icy gaze on my back and I shiver as the cold wraps around me in an unwelcome manner, sweeping me away from the only one that might be able to understand. And my leaden feet drag me away from him, treading the path that soft rays of dazzlingly warm and cool hues of light shining through magnificently crafted glass windows have paved for me.
So, why do I feel so cold?
Our encounter in the library has led me to wonder and realise that I would not mind loving and being loved. And even now, as I lay alone on the surface of my floor, staring into the darkness user my bed, I think it would be quite refreshing and relatively warm compared to the dull ache that now envelops my chest.
My dull blanket lays forgotten in the corner of the room, as I continue lying on the floor, letting the chill of the tiles seep into my skin.
I pretend not to be able to see a looming dark figure mouth open wide in mirthless laughs staring back at me.
I pretend not to be able to see the cracked surface of the mirror.
I pretend not to be able to see me in it.
AN: someone kill me, the angst is like a freaking boulder here. SOOOOOO, what'd you think? Sorry if the writing style's kind of messed up, that's kind of how I write so it's hard for me to do otherwise. And I'm sorry if it's just plain bad/short/confusing/shitty/all of the above because my writing isn't that good. *hands up in surrender* I surrender. Hold your peace.
So, this is also my first time writing an anime fanfic and a -Man fanfic of all things because this was like my first ever true die-hard anime fandom. Which I still cannot get over because I can't just forget/move on from a fandom because my soul does not permit it. I hope you review because I'm not really sure how this tuned out and I'm hoping for happy thoughts, XD
AND, this fanfic will be pretty long, chapter-wise maybe 5-10 chapters, depends on how I go with the timing and everything and maybe it could go as short as 3 chapters only. Also, since this story is pretty fun to write and since I'm completely on IDFK mind block from my PJO fanfics I will be updating every other day.
So, review, give suggestions and all that jazz too. 333
Allen will steal all soba from Kanda and Jerry and give it to you if you review! (and a cookie)
Love you guys, and see you soon!
-Andromeda Luna