A/N: So…two reviews. Slightly pathetic, but ah, well. Thanks to rainbowsandgumdropscrazygirl and choco, as without them it'd have been none! Please excuse any errors, as all my fics are (and probably will continue to be) un-Beta(ed).
Chapter 2
The notebook lying on the table, and the shinigami hovering by. Six feet of the dark, winged presence. Six feet of the dark, winged presence. Silent, watching. Watching him.
A twisted sort of guardian angel, he mused. He laid back, turned away. And still it tugged at him, like the memories that grappled at the edges of his mind. Grasped…and took hold. Undeterred by lies to himself, by any amount of struggling, pushing away…he'd tried, knowing they'd not work. A half-hearted struggle…where he'd tried desperately to get away, when he'd already conceded. A spasm of disgust. A dance, with his past. With himself. He'd stepped forwards, and, in perfect synchronisation, it'd stepped back. Mocking, evading. And now? He backed away, as it moved forwards. Forcing him to look.
He knew, though. That if only he slept, they'd come back. And so he did, so he should. A smile twisted onto his features, devoid of mirth or happiness. Lopsided, it was more a leer, directed at himself. Which one? There were too many of him. Past, present, memory. And various identities; façades. Underneath that? Nothing at all, perhaps. Remove the mask to be confronted with emptiness. Or not. The memories were more than part of him. They were him. They'd made him.
Yes, he should know. After all, he'd been dancing all his life. Step aside, avoid. Step back, dodge. Dodge the flow of truth. He continued leering…or perhaps it was a snarl.
Of denial. That he'd known, all along, even though he couldn't remember.
He'd known, from the first nightmare.
And now he sank back again. Welcome. Take over, when I can't stop you. To remember…
Why I don't want to.
A/N: Short, but far from sweet. I'd originally planned to add in his nightmare...but my ideas are very much scrambled at the moment. Review, perhaps?