It was raining again. Naminé Ichihara sighed as she turned up the volume on her headphones. Though her parents couldn't imagine why, she loved her headphones; the headband thingy was padded and the actual headphone bit on her ears had this red scribble design thing all over, which looked awesome. Plus, they had special extra volume controls, so she could have the music as loud as she wanted. And Naminé liked her music loud. It helped her concentrate on what was important—her art—and drown out what wasn't—everything else.

The other great thing about having such big headphones was that people left you alone. They either figured that you wanted to be ignored and ignored you, or decided that it wasn't worth the effort to try to get your attention anyway. She was the star artist in her school, so the art teachers made exceptions for her to be allowed to listen to her music during class, as long as she didn't disturb anyone (hello, did you see how noise-trapping those headphones are?). She usually listened to rock, pop-rock, punk, and classical music. Between all of those genres, Naminé could always find the perfect background music. There was something about that perfect juxtaposition of soft pencil strokes and raucous instrumentals which created something magical for her.


I love you, he said.

She couldn't be sure, of course, considering how she had "Sweet Sacrifice" blaring at top volume, but that's certainly what it looked like he said.

"What?" she asked, once she finally took off her headphones.

He looked irritated at having to repeat himself; his aquamarine eyes narrowed. "I said I love you."

She needed a moment to process this. "Oh."

"Is that all you're going to say?"

Still processing…"Why?"

"Why?" Now his eyes were like slits. "Because you're beautiful and an amazing artist and I've known you since forever. Why do you think?"

Naminé blinked, forgetting processing. "You think I'm beautiful?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of all things—yes, and if you'd take off your headphones once in a while, you'd realize I'm not the only one who thinks that."

"Not the only one…?"

Now he looked impatient. And slightly jealous. She wanted to giggle. It was cute on him. "Do you think Roxas, Zexion, and Demyx take Art because they like it?"

So she'd wondered—barely—what they were doing there, but she hadn't really cared. Roxas was too good of a friend for her to think of that way—from the start, it was Sora, Kairi, Roxas, Naminé, and Riku; that was their little group. The others were seniors, far too old for her taste. Her friends understood how she got about her art, and so they always tended to leave her alone when she had her headphones on. She appreciated it; in return, summer was all theirs. She wouldn't touch her headphones for 2 ½ months, and sketched with her eyes and ears open. Naminé did it because they deserved it, not because they wanted it (they always insisted that she could keep her headphones if she wanted to—except Roxas, but that's because he always stole and used them during summertime).

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Well?" she echoed.

"How do you feel?"


She felt bad for abandoning her headphones. They looked sad and lonely on her dresser table. She couldn't help but giggle at the prospect of bringing them with her. Riku would be so ticked. Amused, too, but definitely ticked. Naminé glanced in the mirror again, marveling at Kairi's handiwork. Her long hair had been dyed a slightly darker blonde, to give her some color, and was pulled back in an elegant sort of bun. Her dress was floor-length and in varying shades of violet, with a small train in the back. A pretty bracelet was around one wrist—the other had her small purse—and a few violets had been tucked into her tresses. The two girls had spent the whole day preparing for prom together, rushing from the manicurist to the hairdresser to the shoe store, and so on.

A knock at her door. Naminé stood still for a moment, listening to the sounds of her father opening the door, of her mother overenthusiastically greeting Riku—no doubt confiding in him her fear that her reclusive daughter would never have a prom date—and of Riku's amused, sarcastic reply. She glanced back at her headphones. They could behave themselves, she knew. She'd abandoned them a lot as of late, preferring the sound of her friends' chatter and the feel of Riku's arm around her waist over the rock instrumentals. It was amazing how simple little things like that could inspire her in ways that her iPod never could.

"Naminé! Your date's here!"

She grinned at the word. Her mother would do backflips once they left, honestly. Tomorrow, Naminé'd have to spill every little juicy detail about her evening.

"Naminé!"

She headed for the door; if she waited another second, her mother would assume she'd jumped out the window or something.

"Coming, Mom, honestly!"

A pitter-pattering started outside her window. It was raining again.

Ooh, it's raining on prom night...


This for Zanisha for her happy birthday! I hope it doesn't suck. And that you like it. And...yeah.

Nothing belongs to me, of course.