A/N: I have this urge to get back to writing fanfic and I figured that writing something simple that didn't require too much commitment would be the best way to start. WFW will be my dump for all the stuff I come up with from drabbles to one shots. Just trying to get myself back on track, here. Feedback appreciated.

Memory

The rooms of his soul were dark. The endless black in front of his eyes protected him from the emptiness he would find were he to see. The Voice had told him so. He knew The Voice was liar who didn't do anything unless it would benefit him. The Voice didn't protect.

Yet, wasn't he alive even after everything? It didn't matter if his life was a side product of a grander plan. It didn't matter if this strange way of caring was all a ruse to keep him from interfering. The darkness wrapped around him like an old familiar blanket, warm and comforting. He knew it could turn suffocating.

Right then, nothing mattered. He couldn't remember why it should.

Cat

The first thing the creature did after falling on his head from above was to give his face a make-over with its tiny claws. Ryou yelped, flailing his arms to get the assaulter away. Once dislodged from his face, the creature, proving to be a tan kitten, locked himself on the front of his sweater and looked up in what Ryou swore was a glare. The boy followed the icy stare up the wall of the building he had been walking by, eyes settling on an open window. The kitten hissed.

What a cruel thing to do.

Because he was a nice guy and because the small cat refused to let go of him, Ryou took the animal home. The little fellow was underfed and suspicious, with his ears pressed against his head, and digging his claws so deep into Ryou's sweater front that the boy thought they had hit skin a few millimeters ago.

He sighed. Blood stains were such a pain to get off.

Flowers

Red flowers bloomed on the white lab coat. They started small, spreading their wet leaves across what had been pure. The darkness in Malik laughed while sheathing the blade, light catching on the gold. This was the kind of beauty of nature he could appreciate, he decided, admiring the flow a little longer.

The mechanical hiss of a closing door broke the moment and Malik stepped over the corpse into the darkened room before he could be locked out again. Main personality wouldn't like what he was about to do but main personality wasn't going to be around for much longer. Anger was what mattered and he had plenty to feed him, to keep him strong.

The death of the tattooed man, lying unconscious on the bed, would serve to strengthen it.