Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-Man!


Perhaps, some people could never quite play the romance game correctly. Some thing or other would trip them even in the midst of their most sparkling endeavours, rendering them speechless and spluttering as the cogs of fate drove their beloveds away.

Arystar Krory was one such person. Love, to him, was as transient as the morning mist; eerily cold and echoing across the echelons of time, but always fleeting and desolate. Throughout his life misfortunes had been his lot and love had always found a way to elude him in the end. There was Eliade – she still kept her place in her heart; she was his first love after all – but the pain of her passing was now but a mere fragment of memory that no longer haunted his waking moments. And then there was (and he gulped to think of her name) Miranda. He tried uttering her name in a whisper. It didn't come out quite right. Years of separation had not stilled the aching loss that pierced him whenever he thought of her. Even now, his emotions raged and flip-flopped something dreadful at the mere mention of her name.

Even after all these time, his heart belonged to her. He could not believe her dead, not till her body was found. Till then, he would hope and pray and wait. Waiting; he'd done that for a long, long time. He could wait a bit more.

With a sigh, Krory opened his eyes. It was morning, but it bore no semblance to the dawn. Outside his window he saw dark clouds sailing across the gloomy sky, the sky hidden behind tufts of angry rain. Smiling sadly, he turned to get off the bed. And he found that the tiles were cold beneath his feet. How he wished that Miranda was by his side on mornings like this. Together, they would cuddle under the sheets and rejoice over the happy future they had worked for with the other exorcists. But no. Such dreams were foolish, for she had long gone, to where he knew not.

Hobbling over to the heater, his eyes came to rest on an ornate box sitting on the mantelpiece. Eyes clouding over with burning tears, he snapped the box open.

Inside lay a delicate fan, carved with beautiful symbols of wonderful workmanship.

Miranda's fan.

Feeling a flood of memories flood over him, he slapped the box shut. He shook his head, trying to clear all the sad thoughts away.

Miranda. Where are you now?

I miss you.


A/N: hello! this is the first chapter, yeah. hopefully i'll be able to find time to update soon. so yeah, thanks for reading! :D