So many months later… And instead of updating, I start anew. ^ . ^ ' Do not hate me…

If you are one of my recurring readers, welcome~! If you are new, I thank you for coming, even if you're just browsing~.

Alright, let's get down to business; this will be an eventual Komui Lee x OC story… Eventually. Very, very eventually. You definitely won't see it for a while, but I do see it (because F F .net has been down for sooo long I, literally, have dozens of chapters just sitting here. ^ . ^ '); Komui is just… such a nerd it takes forever for him to get anywhere relationship-wise! X D Aaah, but I love that labcoat-clad nerd.

The title is subject to change (because I have no idea when and if F F . net is going to break again, so I want to get this up there now, and I just woke up and can't think of a better title at the moment). If you have suggestions, feel free to suggest~. They might help me think…

Oh, and though this is an OC story, it's not AU. I am following the D . Gray-man storyline, though because this is about a character other than Allen, you won't really see the canon storyline in the beginning unless you squint. Very, very hard. But it becomes much more obvious later on.

If the rating changes, it'll be due to swearing and/or violence; I'm gonna try to keep overly sexy things out of this story. I've been doing it too much lately…

Oh, and so I can pace myself, unless things change I'll be updating every other day. Don't wanna run out of chapters too quickly…

Well, what has become my standard far-too-long opening author's note has come to a close~! Read and enjoy, and I'll see you all on Saturday~!

D . Gray-man is owned by Katsura Hoshino, meaning it does not belong to me. I am in no way, shape, and/or form claiming to be the owner/creator of these concepts, though I do claim any characters not apart of the original D . Gray-man storyline (such as Gracia) mine. As such, I would appreciate fellow authors and readers to give credit where credit is due and not steal any of my characters and/or concepts. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.

Love not sleep, lest you come to poverty; open your eyes and you will have plenty of bread. -Proverbs 20:13, English Standard Version 2001

"La-la la lalala… La-la LA lalaLa…" She sang somewhat tunelessly to herself, lying flat on her back and tossing a soft, cloth ball up and down.

The dark green ball, color so worn it almost looked to be a murky gray, like stagnant water in a gutter on an overcast day, made a soft rattling sound as it left her hand, the smooth, granulated filling allowing the ball to make a slight oblong shape as it went up into the air. It returned to its circular form, though, when it reached the top of its arc, only to flatten slightly with another soft, beady rattle as it fell back into her hand.

"La-la la lalala… La-la LA lalaLa…" When someone gave a pointed cough on the other side of the train car, she sighed softly and closed her mouth, humming the tune to herself, instead, and doing so so low she could hardly hear herself above the noisy clatter of metal on metal as the train sped along the tracks.

She scratched the back of her head with the hand she was using as a pillow as her focus shifted from the up and down motion of her cloth ball to the netting of the luggage rack overhead, watching as other people's bags swayed back and forth with the motion of the train.

The late evening sun cast everything in a dull orange relief and making the outlines of the few strands of hair she was too lazy to push out of her eyes seem red.

Changing the focus of her eyes from her ball to the luggage and then to a close-up of her hair, though, made her eyes and the space on her nose between them hurt, so she caught her ball and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose and making a slight face. She inhaled some old dust trapped in the crocheted weaving of the dull green cloth, and now the back of her tongue tasted like old carpet…

She shifted her hold on the ball slightly and freed up her forefinger, rubbing it along the bottom of her nose in some vain hope of getting rid of some of the already inhaled dust. All she gained, though, was a slightly annoying itch from the scratchy cotton gloves she was wearing, the sensation only worsened when the ridge of flesh between her nostrils skipped along where the cut-off finger of the glove ended and the skin of her real finger began.

Giving up, she dropped her hand back down to her side and turned to face the back of the seat she was lying, in, burying her face in the nice, cool upholstery and sighing.

"La-la la lalala…" She murmured, closing her eyes, "La-la LA lalaLa…" She didn't even remember how the rest of the song went… She knew she probably wasn't even singing the wordless tune in the right key, like it was playing in her head.

She just remembered that the one part of the chorus, while it had been sad, reminded her of something… something she couldn't pin.

But that was the point the songwriter had been aiming for, she supposed. Nostalgia…

It went well with her mood at the moment… It went well with how her mood usually was.

She wasn't sure what people saw when they looked at her and her faded, travel-worn clothes, her coat that was clearly cut for a male but had been taken in to fit her in the sleeves, her unladylike boots and the gloves she wore (not just because it was cold)… And frankly, she didn't really care.

And it wasn't out of callousness or attitude; she'd just stopped fussing over such things.

Odd or not, worn or not, the clothes reminded her of home… And home made her sleepy…

And she liked sleep. She liked sleep a lot… It brought her comfort.

But that wasn't all sleep brought her, she remembered, opening her eyes slightly and staring at the burgundy back of the seat. No… now sleep was bringing her something else…

A job.

A place to go.

A purpose.

An aim.

A goal.

A place… to live… Maybe… she hoped…

…And that was a nice feeling; hope. Not that she'd ever felt hopeless or depressed, but actively feeling hope, and for a genuine reason was… nice.

And even if she couldn't stay, even if they didn't deem her worthy, even if this feeling wasn't permanent… At least it was something to do…

And she hadn't had something to do in such a long time…

She used to do a lot of things. She didn't really remember much of what it was (she rarely remembered those kind of things when the constant fog in her mind), but she knew she used to be a very active person.

When that had ended, she didn't remember… And it didn't really matter. It had been so long ago, anyway…

And now… now she might have something new to do, so it mattered even less.

And to think, it was all because of Sleep…

She smiled fondly and scooted away from the back of the seat a bit, bringing her right hand up to her face and peeling back the glove portion on her middle finger to look at what laid beneath.

Sleep…

Who knew it would bring her such good fortune?

She clenched her hand into a fist and pressed it against her chest, closing her eyes again as her smile widened slightly.

Sleep…

'Sleep…'

Warmth surrounded her middle finger briefly, and then the constant fog she'd been living in since she couldn't remember when thickened, and quite easily she was asleep.