I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know I really should be working on When the Lotus Falls, but after the latest chapter (185) I just couldn't resist. But I promise chapter 2 of WtLF will be up soon!

Note: This is going to be a series of KanLena drabbles with no actual timeline—meaning, it'll skip around. A lot.

Disclaimer: D. Gray-man does not belong to me. This applies for the entire series of drabbles.

Title: and I the fallen seraphim

Rating: PG

Summary: For humans to prevail over akuma, some sacrifices are necessary.

Darkness was upon them.

The Order thrived in times like these, where helpless souls and powerless mortals begged for salvation.

Choice and freedom had no place in times of war. You did the best you could to survive, to live another day and bathe in another pool of blood.

You did as you were told.

Because they were merely machines with expiration dates, churned out again and again to keep the evil at bay and cling to the last fading shards of their sanity.

There was nothing that was unheard of. Experiments went on through the loneliest hours of the night as screams erupted sporadically. Even in the witch's hour, nothing was truly silent—there were always echoes of ghostly cries of times long past.

He was different, not content to be a lab rat of their futile attempts. He was a wild card—their weapon and their downfall.

But as unorthodox as he was, there was only so much he could refuse because this time, if he did—

darkredblood on purewhiteskin

- - -lying there still as a statue and silent as the grave

your heart is waiting

—he risked losing everything.

Strong as the sky, fragile as your name

She was not meant to be a part of this. She was never meant to live in the dark, no matter how sugar-coated it was.

In this hour of darkness, she was the only thing that remained bright, piercing through the doubts, the lies, the hate.

Even now, he could feel her approach, light treads and silken whispers.

His heart clenched at the thought of that light extinguishing. Strong she may be, but there will be a time where her wings will fall and her resolve collapse. She will plunge into the ocean of death, and this time, she would not resurface.

He would hasten his own death to give her another year, another month, another day.

It was worth it. She was worth it.

She touched his arm, lightly at first, and then with the desperation of one who was drowning when he turned to meet her.

a frail angel of war

He looked into those violet eyes, splintered with sadness. Those lips, silent and yet alive with feelings unsaid and emotions untouched.

-this is a war, a battlefield-

-sacrifices are necessary, you understand-

-a means to an end-

He closed his eyes, content to bask in her presence. He leaned forward until his head rested on her own.

He was sorry for being the source of her pain, sorry for hurting her time and time again

sorry for everything

And surrounded by her warmth, he almost wanted to take it all back so he could have his time with her—time enough to memorize all the contours of her body and all her quirks and endearing qualities.

His time was ever shortening

Drawing her to him, he felt the butterfly-flutter of her heart beating against his palm.

Holding her tighter—

time is running out

—he committed her to memory so he could bring a part of her with him.

The silk of her hair

The softness of her skin

The warmth of her being

The beat of her heart

This was what he was doing it for.

He would give up his life so she could live hers.

Love me until the last petal falls