DGM fic: There Was a Man [OneShot]
Title: There Was a Man
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Size: 712 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-man... well, 3 volumes, but yeah. Did not create the story or the characters.
WARNING: Spoilers for the manga series.
He had been taken in by a clown.
That was the man he had known, the man who'd saved him from the harsh life of the unwanted, the dredge of society which no one associated with, no one cared for, and no one acknowledged.
He had been a smiling man.
He doesn't remember the smile exactly, but the impression lingers, of something warm wrapping its arms around him, lifting him from the cold and, carrying him, brought him into warmth. It was in that warmth, the warmth of a temporary home, homes that would become so common in the time between then and later, that he'd opened his fevered eyes and was able to look upon that face... which time had erased, only leaving behind the remnant of that smile.
In some ways, it was that smile that haunted him.
It was that smile that he had longed for most whenever it was erased more permanently than he, at such a young age, could even begin to understand. It was that smile that made him wish beyond everything that he could have back that one kindness that was given to him, the boy cursed with the hand that looked red as blood and almost resembling dying flesh to those who did not look closer. The boy who everyone had abandoned, who was taken in by this man whose smile would never come back, never give him that warmth that kept the cold away for those few short years they had together.
It was for that smile that he was truly cursed.
Not knowing anything more than simply wanting that man back, that clown with his smiles and his many tricks and lessons that he never hesitated to show the small boy he'd taken in, that very same boy nearly condemned that man, his father, to a terrible life of pain and misery. It was thanks to this curse that he was able to see the Earl's trick for what it really was.
It was thanks to this curse that he saw the blessings that were given to him.
And yet still, even with so many years gone by with the boy now almost a man, having been through more than he could have imagined--in no parts thanks to another man, this one with a wicked eye who sooner cheated the boy than actually helping him--that smile, the last smile that wasn't seen but felt stayed in his heart. It was the reason he was able to follow his path toward whatever destiny awaited him, which allowed him to destroy the pitiable creatures that were what he had made that man, his father, the smiling clown. For this, he never begrudged that man for this curse, of seeing the torment no one else saw. For this, he never questioned those events, thinking them mere chances made possible by the choices of others, by his own choices, selfish and desperate.
He had been taken in by a clown.
A smiling clown.
Then why was everyone trying to make that man into someone he wasn't? Destiny. Fate. Conspiracy. The words are riding high in the air and all he can do is sit and listen to the voices around him, all seeming to say the same thing.
He had once been their savior, now he is their possible enemy.
He keeps telling himself that there isn't a way that any of these insane mutterings can be true and yet he knows better than anyone else. He remembers those words, written down on paper in a cypher that only he and one other could read. He can still hear the melody playing in his head as he recites those words again and again in his mind, remembering the letterings and the shape of the message, remembering the times when that man, that smiling man, his father, would sit him down and show him another secret of the trade. Another means to cheat, another means to trick. Whatever was needed to get by.
Because that man had been a clown and nothing more.
And he a boy that the clown had found with a cursed hand and nothing more.
But if that were true...
Why is it that every time he turns and sees that figure in the glass, he half-expects to see that smile, half-remembered, buried deep in the memories of his heart?
-fin-
Nggggggggh... it's been niggling at my brain ever since I caught up with the manga. So. Also, this is my first time writing for DGM, so uh... yeah. Also, wrote this when my brain was fried, so. Yeah.
*goes to crash now, kthxbai*
.
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Size: 712 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own D.Gray-man... well, 3 volumes, but yeah. Did not create the story or the characters.
WARNING: Spoilers for the manga series.
He had been taken in by a clown.
That was the man he had known, the man who'd saved him from the harsh life of the unwanted, the dredge of society which no one associated with, no one cared for, and no one acknowledged.
He had been a smiling man.
He doesn't remember the smile exactly, but the impression lingers, of something warm wrapping its arms around him, lifting him from the cold and, carrying him, brought him into warmth. It was in that warmth, the warmth of a temporary home, homes that would become so common in the time between then and later, that he'd opened his fevered eyes and was able to look upon that face... which time had erased, only leaving behind the remnant of that smile.
In some ways, it was that smile that haunted him.
It was that smile that he had longed for most whenever it was erased more permanently than he, at such a young age, could even begin to understand. It was that smile that made him wish beyond everything that he could have back that one kindness that was given to him, the boy cursed with the hand that looked red as blood and almost resembling dying flesh to those who did not look closer. The boy who everyone had abandoned, who was taken in by this man whose smile would never come back, never give him that warmth that kept the cold away for those few short years they had together.
It was for that smile that he was truly cursed.
Not knowing anything more than simply wanting that man back, that clown with his smiles and his many tricks and lessons that he never hesitated to show the small boy he'd taken in, that very same boy nearly condemned that man, his father, to a terrible life of pain and misery. It was thanks to this curse that he was able to see the Earl's trick for what it really was.
It was thanks to this curse that he saw the blessings that were given to him.
And yet still, even with so many years gone by with the boy now almost a man, having been through more than he could have imagined--in no parts thanks to another man, this one with a wicked eye who sooner cheated the boy than actually helping him--that smile, the last smile that wasn't seen but felt stayed in his heart. It was the reason he was able to follow his path toward whatever destiny awaited him, which allowed him to destroy the pitiable creatures that were what he had made that man, his father, the smiling clown. For this, he never begrudged that man for this curse, of seeing the torment no one else saw. For this, he never questioned those events, thinking them mere chances made possible by the choices of others, by his own choices, selfish and desperate.
He had been taken in by a clown.
A smiling clown.
Then why was everyone trying to make that man into someone he wasn't? Destiny. Fate. Conspiracy. The words are riding high in the air and all he can do is sit and listen to the voices around him, all seeming to say the same thing.
He had once been their savior, now he is their possible enemy.
He keeps telling himself that there isn't a way that any of these insane mutterings can be true and yet he knows better than anyone else. He remembers those words, written down on paper in a cypher that only he and one other could read. He can still hear the melody playing in his head as he recites those words again and again in his mind, remembering the letterings and the shape of the message, remembering the times when that man, that smiling man, his father, would sit him down and show him another secret of the trade. Another means to cheat, another means to trick. Whatever was needed to get by.
Because that man had been a clown and nothing more.
And he a boy that the clown had found with a cursed hand and nothing more.
But if that were true...
Why is it that every time he turns and sees that figure in the glass, he half-expects to see that smile, half-remembered, buried deep in the memories of his heart?
-fin-
Nggggggggh... it's been niggling at my brain ever since I caught up with the manga. So. Also, this is my first time writing for DGM, so uh... yeah. Also, wrote this when my brain was fried, so. Yeah.
*goes to crash now, kthxbai*
.