First and foremost, I'd like to say that this is for Chezhire8 at LiveJournal, and apologize for the wait. Not just the wait, but the continued wait; I'm not finished with it. (I'm not even past chapter seven.) I was initially going to wait until I was finished with the entire thing to post this, but there's nothing like an earthquake to remind you time's a-wasting. Once this is done, I'll put it all up, but for now, please enjoy chapter one.

Secondly, I'd like to mention that personality is a matter of perspective. In this, Naminé has this running inner commentary that may seem a bit dark for her – but she acts like, well, Naminé. I've never thought she was a particularly good or nice person; after all, she seems sweet and easily frightened, but she was willing to fuck up several lives just because she was lonely. In this, I'm both exploring that duality and allowing my inner Larxiné fangirl to come out and play.

I don't own Kingdom Hearts, Coca-Cola, or Cheerios. Actually...if you recognize anything in this story, I can guarantee I don't own it. C'est disclaimed, and all that jazz.

It's like a fucking airport in here, all close and lines and shit. Except with airports, you have that thought, you're getting out soon. Here, the only good thing is the part where her mom's coming to pick us up at three, and I'll never have to look at her again. The noise is overpowering and the smells – fucking hell. The smells are killing me to the point of zombiehood. Maybe Miss Perfume to my left will finally shut up if I eat her brain.

This was not supposed to happen.

I don't even know her fucking name. I just know she's the sweet daughter of some friend of my dad's, and he's all busy trying to get in her pants. The friend's, not Miss Perfume's, even though – well, with his tastes...

And he refused to let me drive myself here for the summer, so he knew I wouldn't have a getaway car. Fucking bastard. I bet he was planning this. And...

"I really want to see it, you know. It sounds so cute..."

...she's still talking.

"Hmm," I say. Wonder if she'll notice I replied.

"God, you're like a zombie."

It's so funny I'm about to burst my seams. I'd like to tell her I am a zombie, or at least crack open her skull and see if she has a brain in there, but I just smile and giggle a little. I hate my laugh. It's like a fucking waterfall. So I always dam it up. The damn giggle sounds just as bad, but at least it isn't so loud.

"Look, Olette-"

"Justine," she says, looking hurt. Ah, that's right – Olette's her mom. I feel bad for the woman. Or...wait, no, Olette's the chick Roxas liked for a month and a half in seventh grade. Where the hell is this coming from? I haven't spoken to Roxas in years. Not since he ran off with that transvestite hooker or whatever. Whatsername? Lila? Leila? That's right, Lea.

"Sorry. I was having a blonde moment," I tell her, hoping to high heaven the corners of my mouth are turned up like I ordered instead of down like they want to be.

"Oh, I have those all the time."

You don't say.

"There was this one time..."

...and there she goes again.

"Look, Justine," I say. I refuse to sigh. I refuse. She still looks kinda hurt, and I feel like I'm fucking wasted or something, the way my cheeks feel from all this goddamn smiling. I'm showing teeth and everything. "I'm really not into chick flicks. Or movies. Or shopping. Or...all this girly stuff. In fact, I kinda hate it." After a moment, rather lamely, I add, "I'm sorry."

She gives me The Look people give when they think you're stupid, which she probably does. Kinda hypocritical, but hey, what the hell do I know? Maybe she's a physicist. She could have told me and I wouldn't know.

"What?"

Still with those priss lips, she says, "You are a girl."

"It's not my fault." That used to be my motto, back when I was a kid. There was this one girl, Kira, who wouldn't fucking leave me alone. Haha, you must have fought with a lawn mower, haha, you have chicken legs, haha, you're not growing boobs. Haha, it's not my fault, it's my genes. Haha, you're a bitch.

I used to have these fantasies, of ripping out all her pretty black hair and hanging her with it. I kinda disturb myself sometimes. Haha, you're a psycho.

"Well, you know, my mom said you were a bit of a tomboy, but-"

I cut her off. "This is ridiculous."

"Yeah, that's just what I was about to say!"

Fucking Justine. Why does she get pretty red hair when she's stuck in a perpetual blonde moment? Swear to god, she's so stupid.

I pull my wallet out of the pocket of my little white skirt Kairi gave to me. I hate being girly, but I love this little white skirt. It isn't a girl thing, it's a remembering-the-only-girl-I-ever-liked thing. Fucking cancer. I ever get a chance to meet that God people talk about, I'll kill him. Too bad he's not real; that might be great stress relief.

"Great minds think alike, I guess." My cheeks hurt. "Hey, I hear there's a candy shop in this mall. We should try some of that new sea-salt ice cream."

"Aw, I can't. I'm watching my figure."

"Watching it do what? Shrink?" I think I have this vague memory of her as this really fat girl. Like three-fifty or something. But I thought that chick's name was Ellen, so maybe not. Still, Justine's about five-two and if she's more than a hundred pounds I'm a daisy.

She blinks those pretty blue eyes at me, all sad, and it's so unfair. How could this girl be so annoying? Hell, if she'd shut up for five seconds I might even find her sexy.

...Nah. Kairi had red hair and blue eyes. There can only be one sexy blue-eyed redhead in my life.

"Aww, you're so sweet." Is she hitting on me? Oh, no...I hope my dad hasn't been telling everyone I'm a lesbian again. Just because I'm not dating anyone. Just because I once said 'ew, boys are gross.' When I was ten. Just because he's so worried his flings will have problems with me – he makes up weird things to tell them.

"I'm really not," I assure her. "I'm just saying it like it is. You're thin already."

"I just don't want to get fat. But, I mean, we could go across the street and sit down." She gestures to a place I can't possibly see, since I don't have x-ray vision. "There's a new place. The food's good, and nothing on the menu is over two hundred calories."

I'd like to call bullshit, but instead I say, "Yes, I'd love to." Such a charmer, seriously. My goddamn cheeks hurt. I need a reason to move my face. "It's kind of crowded in here."

No, really?

"Ah, this is nothing. Just wait until Saturday!"

"I'd rather not," I say dryly. It doesn't make her smile any smaller. Dammit.

"Well, let's go. I'm really craving a diet Coke."

Fucking hell. Does she ever stop yapping? Even the drink. What I want to know is, how does she expect anyone to take her seriously?

I just keep that smile plastered on my face like costume makeup. Even when she grabs my arm and pulls me out of the mall. At least she's rescuing me, like a damn princess from a tower, and what the fuck? If I were in a tower, I wouldn't want Justine to rescue me – come to think of it, I wouldn't be in a tower. Or if I happened to be in one, I'd have a damn good reason for being there. And I wouldn't just sit there, I'd make someone rescue me. Someone nice and gullible, with a strong heart. Like Sora. Cousin Sora with his charms and his crush on my girl. Except she wasn't mine, I guess, and she died before I could really tell her how I...y'know. Feel, or whatever.

Oh god, what the hell. Where is this coming from?

I'm a fucking lunatic. Swear to god.

"I could go for one myself," I tell her. Yeah. If I wanted to poison myself. I remember Grandma saying how soda's bad for you, diet soda even more so. I don't mention this, because it might be funny to see Justine drop dead.

Fucking Justine.

She's still pulling me, now across the street, and I'm thinking – what am I still doing here? I'm twenty-two. Maybe I don't have a car, but I could find a way to get the hell away from this chick. But I figure my dad's practically paying me to entertain his girl's daughter, I might as well give him his money's worth. I have to have somewhere to stay while I'm here.

"Come on," she says. I look at the restaurant and try not to vomit. Goddamn place looks like a candy heart threw up all over the walls. There are cupcake chairs and tables shaped like flowers. Pink. Everywhere. I know this pink, and it isn't Kairi pink. It's his pink. I'm dying.

My cheeks fucking hurt.

"Table for two," I hear her say, but it's sort of in my peripheral mind-vision, because mostly I'm looking around and trying not to explode. I bet they'd just tack my heart on the wall.

"Oh," says a very familiar voice, and it's official: I've died. This has to be hell. There's no fucking way this all could be happening on Earth.

"Ooooh, hey, Marluxia!"

Fucking Justine.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he says, but he's looking at me. Justine's looking at me too, looking put out. Aww, the poor baby got ignored. Maybe if she'd shut her trap he might sleep with her. If she didn't make him keep his eyes open. Nah. He's not into redheads anyway.

"Yeah...I moved away," I tell him. "I'm in Twilight Town now. I've...been drawing."

Marluxia was like...my best friend, way back when. Roxas was there too, but when I met Marluxia...BAM. The whole world stood still. He wasn't very nice to me, but that was part of the appeal. Nice is for heroes. Nice is for girls like Kairi. I don't let on, but nice has never been attractive to me. I don't let on, but any relationship I have won't be pink and fluffy. It will be fucking black and blue.

My friend Marluxia. I always talked about him. Today my friend Marluxia taught me about roses. Today my friend Marluxia stole my lunch. Today my friend Marluxia kissed me...

Yeah, after that we weren't friends. Friends don't let friends lose their virginity out of curiosity, which is what we both did. After that he was a complete asshole to me and I pretended to be scared of him so he'd leave me the fuck alone. Didn't really work, because I guess on some level we still were...fond...of each other. Whatever. He was an asshole naturally, anyway, and he probably missed pushing me around.

My friend Marluxia is standing in front of me, smiling like none of this ever happened.

"I see."

Fucking bastard. "This place has got to be yours." Real men have pink fetishes. Trust me, I know.

"I've also done well for myself. Oh, let me introduce you to my best friend." Ouch. He signals some pretty blonde girl. The way he looks at her...nobody else could notice, but I know him. What is it with him and blondes?

She's not wearing a uniform, so I can only assume she's mooching. She's got curves, and a pretty little dress, too, all up on her thighs. She's got half a sucker hanging out of her mouth and her bright eyes are intelligent. She's got a necklace on and it looks like some kind of knife or something, and that sexy little halfway smirk around the lollipop stick...

Well, okay, she's attractive. Enough to make me consider her lips, and oh, how pretty they are. I'm pretty sure my legs are starting to shake, goddamn.

"Larxene, this is Naminé. I've told you about her."

"Yes, yes, good to meet you," she says. It's disingenuous and ooh, is that her real tone of voice? She barely glances at me, but at my company. Her eyes turn cold. "Oh. Hello, Justine." Justine looks distinctly panicked. Her hands dart to her throat. Her eyes dart to the door.

Larxene laughs. It's this high-pitched, sweetie-pie laugh, but it's still mocking, I can tell. She steps closer and I see...is that a knife tucked into that scrunched-up stocking on her left leg? It is.

Swear to god, I've just met the love of my life.