This is a short little one-shot I wrote up during my classes in the past few days. It's kind of short, but I think It's pretty cute. I love NaminexPence. :) FYI, if you also like this pairing and my writing I'll be posting more NaminexPence in the future.
It starts off in Pence's pov then switches to Namine after the "XXX". Now, for our disclaimer we have none other than the Melodious Nocturne himself, Demyx!
Demyx: Stardust Roses does not own Kingdom Hearts. Thanks for reading everybody! *Hands you all virtual cookies*
No one loves the chubby guy. It's a fact of life, or at least it is in my life. I'm always the third wheel in a group of three. I'm always the last one chosen for teams in P.E. I never get the girl. That's pretty much the story of my life, but I try to shake it off and keep smiling for the sake of my friends, or used-to-be friends.
Hayner and Olette have been my two best friends ever since I can remember. I thought it would always be us, our inseparable three. Of course, that was before the teenage years unfolded and testosterone and estrogen began their work. I felt something for Olette that I hadn't felt before, a yearning to hold her delicate hand in mine, to gaze into those dazzling emerald eyes, to tuck strands of her long, silky brown hair behind her ear. I had always seen her as a pretty girl, but now she was more than that. She was absolutely beautiful, and more than I could ever have. Even so, Olette Peters was my first love.
But she was not mine.
She was Hayner's. I can remember that painful day when they made the announcement. We were at the Usual Spot planning the next activity for the day. I was about to take my normal spot next to Olette on the old sofa, but Hayner, ever swift, slid beside her before I even got the chance to sit down. He grinned at me, and he didn't even have to speak for me to know what he was saying. "Like she would want you." It was after I had taken a seat on one of the crates that Hayner wrapped his arms around a blushing Olette and kissed her cheek that he shared with me the news.
When I see them walking down at Station Heights together, side by side and fingers intertwined, I feel this strike of pain course through me, wishing it were me beside her instead of the wild-haired blonde. She seems to be happy with him, and that's all I could ever ask for, so I suck it up and fake a smile. I seem to be becoming pretty skilled at it. Just smile. Put on that fake grin like everything is fine and you're the happiest guy in the world for them, and they'll go along with their lives without even thinking there's a problem.
For the third time today these thoughts have once again crossed my mind. But I try to forget them as I look behind the lense of my camera and snap photo by photo of anything that inspires me. I'm accompanying my friend Namine, a young and talented artist, on one of her adventures into the woods to sketch. Before she and I became friends, while Olette, Hayner and I were the inseparable three, I had always thought of this place as pretty creepy, but as I look at it now through a different sight it's actually very beautiful.
Namine is perched on a low tree branch, knees curled up to her chest with her sketchbook wide open. Her hands slide across the paper quickly as she draws, and I wonder what it is she's drawing. I call to her, and she looks at me with her wide, blue eyes, but refuses to show me the drawing, which is pretty out-of-character for the polite blonde. When she does climb down from the tree a few minutes later she reveals to me an incredible full-color drawing of a Tiger Swallowtail butterfly, but for some reason I suspect that she wasn't drawing the butterfly several minutes before.
I show her the photos I took while we walk, not even paying attention to where we're going, and her sketchbook slips from her hand. As I reach down to pick up her book, her soft, small hand grazes mine by accident, and she pulls away quickly. I look up and hand her the sketchbook and she is trying her best to hide her face beneath her long, floppy bangs, but I can see traces of a pink blush on her face. The look is cute and innocent in a way. It suits her.
Maybe, I think, just maybe she may feel something towards me, something more than friendship. Do miracles happen? Could this talented and pretty young lady actually feel something for the chubby computer geek?
As I stand and take a look at where we've ended up, I see it's the old, supposedly haunted mansion at the end of the woods. I ask Namine to stand by the front gate and I snap a photo. Her pale skin and platinum blonde hair gives her quite a ghostly effect, which adds on to the whole "haunted mansion" theme. She takes a peek at the photo and smiles, looking deeply into my eyes.
"It's beautiful," Her voice is just above a whisper. I want to tell her, just like you, but I keep the thought to myself, giving her a small smile instead.
She's still looking into my eyes and inching closer with every millisecond, and then her lips press to mine, gently, but unsure, as if she is inexperienced. I close my eyes and smile. She tastes sweet, like nothing I have ever tasted. Before I want it to be, it's over and she pulls back. Her blush is and even deeper pink than before, but it still suits her quite well. We turn around and walk back into the woods towards town, and as she slides her small hand into my large one, I'm thinking that maybe there is a chance that this chubby guy just might be loved.
XXX
He doesn't realize how incredible he really is. He's always so kind to me and everyone, giving up things to make his friends happy, and doing things for others when he gets the chance. Pence is really one of the sweetest guys anyone could ever meet. He befriended me two years ago in seventh grade when I was the new girl and the outcast at the school, and he's always been by my side ever since.
In the past two years we've come to know each other very well. We often venture outside to pursue our art interests, his in photography, mine in sketching, and we hold long conversations, and equally comfortable silences. I know how he feels about himself; conscious of his weight, constantly telling himself no one could ever love him, and to be honest, I have come to be that no one. I couldn't stop myself from falling for him, I don't know who could. But being the shy girl that I am, I could never confess my feelings to him.
I quickly sketch out the details of a Tiger Swallowtail butterfly that has landed a little farther down from me on the branch I am seated upon. The creature fans its wings as it holds onto the branch, and my hand is swift to fly across the paper, catching the movement perfectly. I pull out my colored pencils from my bag and color it in, and it flies away after I finish. Good thing too, I seem to have found another subject to draw.
Pence sits on a rock below my beside the flowing stream that cuts through the vegetation. He is looking off into the distance, one hand on his knee, the other woven into his dark hair. For once, he isn't wearing his black sweatband, and his hair has deflated and formed long bangs in the front. He looks quite handsome, just calmly sitting there, daydreaming, letting the world pass him by. I sketch him out roughly on a fresh sheet of paper. I examine it carefully and erase extra lines, then add in the colors.
Soon enough, I am immersed in the drawing of Pence that I don't first off notice him calling my name. I look at him curiously, and he says that he wants to see my drawing. I slide my sketchbook into my bag and carefully scale back down the tree to solid ground and flip open to the swallowtail. He shouldn't see my drawing of him yet. Suspicion lies in his eyes, but he settles for the drawing and we begin walking through the woods.
I become transfixed by him as we walk and talk side by side, so much to the point that my sketchbook slides out of my hand. Both of us reach down at the same time to pick it up, although he gets there a little faster and my hand grazes his. I pull back, releasing a small gasp as I do so, and I can feel the heat on my face.
I find that he and I have ended up at the old mansion. It's a very beautiful place, in a way. The ivy crawls up the iron gate rails, and has invaded the sides of the mansion as well. The place truly does look mysterious. Haunted, even. I follow Pence's instructions and stand beside the gate for him to take my picture. I rip myself away from the beautiful old place and ask to see his photo. It turned out very well. He captured the mansion at its best, although I want to say it would look better with you in it. However, I keep my mouth shut.
Despite keeping my mouth shut, I can't resist him. He pulls me in with that sweet smile, and this one I can tell is genuine. Not like the ones he pulls off most of the time. I imagine what it would be like to kiss him, which proves to be hard because of my lack of kissing experience. I imagine it would go something like me leaning in, tilting slightly, and our lips meeting. Something assures me that his lips are soft, and it would be wonderful to have him as my first kiss, but my shyness creeps in, and I doubt that I have the courage.
But the moment is perfect. Like something I would draw. The light is that beautiful twilight the town is known for, and there is a sweet silence in the air, like we both want it to happen. With the mansion in all its splendor in the background, and Pence's big brown eyes connected with mine, I cannot resist the moment. I lean in, tilting slightly just like I imagined, and my lips are against his. They are soft as they were in my daydream, and I feel his hand touch mine.
I pull back after several seconds, and I feel the heat blossoming on my face more than ever. I can't believe that it actually happened, and so perfectly too. He smiles that genuine, sweet smile, and we both turn and head back into town. Still feeling brave, I slide my hand into his. It's warm and soft. I squeeze it gently and he squeezes back, and we both smile again. Maybe someday we can be together and I can give him reasons to smile more, but until then I'm happy just being friends.
Like? Dislike? Tell me about it in a review. :)