Title: Inside the Box

Summary: Alone in a room with only his thoughts, Lavi waits. (Sort of Lavi/Allen)

Rating: G/PG

Content: Not a lot. Some angst, and perhaps some implied slash thoughts.

Author's Note: This was an exercise for a creative writing class that I attend. We had to put a character into a room by himself/herself. The only door is locked and there is a small window overlooking the sea from atop of a high cliff. The only thing in the room beside the character is a clock. And this is my attempt, not bad if I do say so myself.

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I think that clock ticks too much. The second hand is jerky and loud. The sound echoes in the empty room, making it seem louder than it actually is. Oh look. Another moment has passed and nothing has happened. But the ticking continues. It bothers me. It's too loud. Slumped against the wall, I use my arm to bang against the door. Once. Twice. I give up. Still locked. And still the clock keeps ticking.

The sun coming in through the high window is hot and the sky all lazy blue is taunting me. Far away I can hear the ocean, but just barely over the ticking of the clock. It's too loud. And it's too hot. I take off my scarf and jacket. The walls are too white. That annoys me too.

I wish I had something to take my mind off my entrapment. But nothing comes to mind except his face and that pained expression he sometimes wears when he thinks no one is looking. Just because I have one eye, he must think that I look even less, but I think I look even more. Damn that clock. The ticking is louder now, and it's irritating my thoughts.

I let my eye trace the water stain on the wall. It comes from the ceiling down the corner of the room. It's brown and ugly, but it keeps my mind off him but the clock keeps ticking so it's almost pointless anyway.

I stand and start to pace, slowly, in time with the ticking though. I don't know what would happen if I stepped against it.

My boots are heavy on the floor. They almost drown out the ticking. Almost. But they don't. I'm wondering what he's doing right now. I wonder if he's okay wherever he may be. I worry too much sometimes, but maybe not enough. I'm not sure. But I hope my hair doesn't turn grey from the stress; I like it red. But the thought of silver hair makes me think of him again and I stop.

The sun that comes through the window is on the floor, slanted upwards from where I stand in shadow. I watch it for a long time and the clock keeps ticking so loud I want to smash it and the birds outside are so loud and the ocean is so far away my heart hurts some. But as the light starts to turn golden and pink, I hear the footsteps on the landing outside and the door opens. Bookman stands there with the key. I hate that stoic expression on his face as he looks me over.

"You did better this time," he says, almost approvingly and walks away.

My time is done and I can leave, but my footsteps are still heavy and I can't seem to make myself walk through the slant of fading light on the floor. I walk around it.

I grab my jacket and scarf and head out the door.

Maybe one day I can tell him how I feel. And damn that clock, maybe one day I'll smash it and leave this room behind.

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And that's the end. I'm not quite sure why Bookman locked him in the room, but, entertain yourselves with the thought. Yeah. So I wrote this in like ten minutes, and decided to share it with everyone. Hope everyone liked it.

dhampir72