author note | warning for content warning/trigger warning/graphic descriptions of drugs, mental illness, violence, sexual content, abuse, sexual abuse, death, homophobic/orientation slurs, and discrimination. i am giving warning in the author's notes before any mention of rape, suicide, or excessive violence. there is no graphic or present sexual abuse during the story.
Aphotic1
Before Roxas stepped into the hurricane path that was Naminé Belladonna, the first thing he ever thought of her had been her constant disregard for her own reality. Now it was not in any way his soul-searching purpose to judge how other people wasted their time during class. There were certainly other things more appropriate than say sleeping, or passing notes, but he'd never really been the epitome of innocence himself; having written the first part of the lecture down, and then lost complete control of his hand, the wayward appendage blossoming black-inked skyscrapers without permission from his waking conscious. He wished he had something better to occupy himself with, or maybe the unapologetic assholishness to disregard their clueless sub and whip out his phone, like Seifer in the back had a grand total of seven minutes into the lesson.
She's good with her hands, might have been the second ever thing he thought, which at that time had been an innocent underestimation of other things to come, but nevertheless. She, having no actual knowledge of her name thus far, had hair not comparable to flowers or some celestial sensation— but that which he was unsure was dyed or not. Albinos were a thing, for sure, but he'd never seen someone before with natural hair that was blonde but borderline white. He realised the appeal, it was ethereal, beautiful even but the impracticality of blinding white hair was something that he obviously needed to think about, ergo the following list of reason to not have white hair: 1. If you took a picture in the snow, you'd look like you were missing sections of your head and face, and not everyone looked good with fragments of their expression scattered in the void, that was just a fact of life. 2. Did white hair cause lense flares in photos? Probably not if you knew what you were doing. Alright, so his list of reasons not to have white hair were sparse, few and far between— he supposed his beef with it was that he probably couldn't pull it off himself. Roxas was all patchy sunkissed skin and freckles in weird places. He hated dye headaches and was scared to death of ammonia. Bleaching was the devil's work saved only for renewing the life of his half-dead Converse sneakers and weird things that feminine people did when they didn't want to shave their peach fuzz. It wasn't like he was against people that did it, live and let live, in fact, congratulations on your inherent ability to inhale nuclear levels worth of chemicals. But back to her, whom almost certainly did not smell like sulfur or other demonic poisons, who had started a braid in her hair about ten minutes ago —a reasonable time to stop paying attention in the 'class sucks' book of etiquette— weaving skillfully and fast, even though her movements were sort of languid and soft, like he was watching her through water. He was definitely looking through some sort of retinal flare because segments of her fingers were completely blurred out through the reflection of her hair in the afternoon sunlight, disappearing with sparkling grace into bright whiteness.
It was his experience that most girls picked up braiding as a natural talent from the get go. It might have been that drilled in conditioned way of thinking that females had to prioritise the appearance of their hair above all things, but —call him reading into her too much— it didn't seem the platinum blonde's goal to be beautiful. She just was. No effort required. He was always seeing her from the back, wall-dweller that he was, so even though he forgot to acknowledge her presence in his conscious mind, he'd become familiar with the white blonde colour, with the rolling waves of the strands as they cascaded down her back. She sat in her seat, back leant on an angle, leaning against the wooden platform for the level behind her as she twisted her French braid into the side of her head, curling above her nape into one that curved onto her right shoulder all while looking out the window.
He wasn't paying her this much attention to be especially creepy. Upon entering Arcanum Academy he tried to justify his weird observations and examining of every one of his classmates as typically normal behaviour. It isn't a lot of work. Roxas had lived in Twilight Town for all of his existence. Most of the kids accepted into school were people he'd known from elementary and middle school. He was even familiar with other kids, who went to Twilight Boys or Florence Elsewood. Who held his interest now were the kids from out of town, who formerly commuted, who went to school in other states, or those that had just slipped under his radar. Because despite the familiarity of her, Roxas couldn't place her no matter how hard he tried. Ars Arcanum was very different from his middle school. His day consisted of one or two 1-3 hour classes, and she was in two of them; Music, and Advanced English on Monday and Thursday. His only other classes were Science and Physical Education on Tuesday, leaving him free for Wednesday and Friday. Take mind! He didn't actually seek out the information like a creep, these were just facts he noticed a few weeks into his first semester of high school. But, even when he had made observations about the other unknown students, the blonde —who he'd only managed to muster up the last name of— still remained in his thoughts and captivation, titled Belladonna. It was a name that resonated with his memories, after a while he came to the conclusion that if he couldn't remember her name, maybe there was a reason why.
Living in a relatively small community allowed him the socially crippling luxury of being in close proximity to friends, and friends of friends, until he didn't have to make friends on his own anymore. He belonged to two immediate friend groups; through his best friend Axel, he was the only freshman in a troupe of devil-may-care seniors comprised of Axel, Larxene, Zexion, Demyx, and Saïx. In elementary school he'd also assimilated into a small group of misfits that hung out in The Usual Spot; a small little haven in the back alley of Pence's apartment. Speaking of, the friend group closer to his age was comprised of Hayner, Pence, and Olette. He was closer to Hayner because they'd gone to the same middle school while Pence and Olette were former students of Twilight Boys and Florence Elsewood Academy for Young Ladies. That didn't mean that their unit wasn't as tight knit, even closer now that they finally all went to the same high school.
One term into freshman year Roxas, Pence, and Olette were sitting in the cafeteria waiting on Hayner. They'd pooled in their money and it was his turn to buy everyone's lunch. Roxas had his chin in his hands, wishing he could fast forward his Shakespeare quiz next period and skip to his celebratory skate park visit afterwards. Thursday was a momentous occasion automatically associated with happiness. In middle school Thursdays were great because the shops, mainly Crepuscular Square, their largest shopping centre and designated hangout spot for all of the surrounding schools, was open until eleven o'clock. The skate park was close, and a chill out spot for his older group of friends. Roxas was brought out of his thoughts by a very familiar presence. He didn't know, but he just had the inkling that he'd felt it before, so he damn near had a heart attack when his eyes landed on her, standing over Olette and handing back what looked to be math homework. Olette was making quiet conversation with her, but she only nodded softly in response, biting the inside of her full lip gently.
Trying not to seem too eager to look at her, he kept his head at the original angle, side eyeing her to examine her more closely. Her limbs were thin, and she was dressed in the same uniform style, with the school jumper —too big and oversized— curving over her knuckles, a look that made her seem more petite in a way. Often the way that she carried herself, with regal grace and a very intense expression, gave her a very empress-like demeanor, one that took up all the space in the room. But today she seemed meeker, though not enough that she was caving in on herself. Her skin was almost as white as the paper she passed back to Olette, fingers pink near her blood red-painted fingernails, smeared a little messily and against school regulations. Roxas blinked, shifting to look at her properly now. Her features were hauntingly beautiful; high cheekbones, sleek nose, full chapped lips, and jaded pale blue eyes. Like all those other times there was still something eerie about her, something that resonated in his bones. Their gazes locked briefly, and though she held it ruthlessly, Roxas looked away. Her movements were fluid and when she walked away she made it look like she was gliding.
Hayner arrived with the food and an elaborate story on how the one of the lunch ladies totally wanted the "d". Roxas kept side eyeing Olette as she snacked on her strict fruit and veggies regiment, worrying self consciously about asking for information on the white-haired girl. There were a tonne of reasons to simply leave the situation be and immerse himself into Pence complaining about DIY camera repair, but none so that actually made him forget about the tiny exchange. It shouldn't have affected him so much, the attention, the recognition of a girl that he barely— that he didn't know at all. Still, he couldn't help himself.
'Hey Ollie, how do you know that girl?' he dug around his pasta, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the gritty plastic tabletop.
She turned her attention to Roxas, swerving her entire body to focus on him. That was Olette, never half-assed, providing her full-undivided attention. Unfortunately this also meant the scrutiny of a hawk. Olette was versed in English Professor-levels of deduction, sometimes even reading more into situations than need be. 'The girl that just gave my notes back? She's Naminé. She went to Florence with me.'
'She's sketchy. I heard she sells drugs. Frankly I believe that.' Hayner was crass and rude, but Roxas had to hand it to him, he always spoke his mind, even when no one else cared about his opinion, which was most of the time. Based purely on instinct, she didn't seem like the kind of person. But then again, Roxas' reviews on being a personal judge of character were not stellar. He had this bad habit of giving the benefit of the doubt to people he was still sure didn't deserve it, Axel being a prime example.
'Hayner.' Pence berated, 'Don't be mean. Naminé is dealing with a lot as is without you spreading rumours.'
'Hear that?' Hayner made an exaggerated cup around his ear, leaning in Pence's direction, 'I heard "deal", did I not? And guys, I do not give a wrinkly butthole's shit what that white-haired ghost chick does with her spare time. She might have a good reason for dealing, right?'
Despite himself, Pence was blatantly holding back a grin while Olette fixed Hayner with an unimpressed look, lips pouting as her eyebrows knitted together. She was very protective of the girls from Florence Elsewood, especially those that had been in the same year. According to his knowledge Olette had been some kind of grade advocate or class captain, most likely both. She had a very motherly personality; Roxas wouldn't be surprised if she looked at other Florence Elsewood girls like sisters or daughters.
The conversation turned light once more, back to reviewing notes for classes and possibly planning what they were going to do that evening. Olette and Hayner butted heads about this all the time; Hayner wanting to have fun, Olette wanting those A levels. Pence and Roxas were often fence sitters when it came to their bickering and today was no exception. Olette and Roxas packed up after Hayner and Pence left for their respective classes. They were on their way to Advanced English.
Classes in Arcanum were very small, around eight to fourteen people per class. There were ten people in his English class. Today was the end of their Hamlet unit and he was looking forward to picking up the next unit, even if The Crucible didn't look like a particularly friendly book. Though there was no seating arrangement the students already gravitated towards the seats they'd chosen at the beginning of term. Roxas and Olette towards the side further towards the back because Ms. Belle liked to walk around and sit on the end of their student tables. Olette's study methods had paid off because thirty minutes (out of sixty) into the test he was already double-checking his answers. It was then that Ms. Belle got a call and ran out of the class to answer it, a worried expression creasing her soft features. True to her ingrained Olette tendencies, she checked and triple checked her own answers, long after Roxas was finished with his own quiz and it became apparent that the teacher wasn't coming back soon, she checked over Roxas' answers. She made a small noise of distaste and left him to grab his quiz again and refine his answers, sticking his tongue out whenever she made that academically superior judgy noise.
Olette and Roxas had started a game of dots; the kind where you have to connect dots with lines and attempt to make squares. Each party gets to draw one line in a dotted set of 10x10, one hundred dots. Other students were talking to each other quietly, but they were increasing in volume little by little. Ms. Belle had been gone for a while now. It always amazed him how attentive and bright Olette was. Even though she should have been focusing her attention on winning, it was apparent her mind was elsewhere, speaking about what they were going to do that night, and he still couldn't gain an advantage over her. Her mother was very strict, and very protective of her daughters. Olette and Roxas had initially met through their older siblings, Aerith and Cloud, who now went to Radiant Garden University. After a few weeks of deliberation Hayner, Pence, and Roxas convinced her to sneak out past curfew, which was a straining six o'clock. Hayner had gone all out, treating the expedition like Mission Impossible. There wasn't really anything tactical about the entire thing except helping Olette climb down from her balcony. They'd been practicing on trees.
The lines that the both of them were working on had been spiraling into the centre of the playing field when a seat was pulled up onto the other side of their desk. The both of them looked up and regarded their new companion with interest.
'Roxas, right?'
'That's my name,' he replied, tilting his head at him. He was briefly aware of who he was, Vanitas, who had been transferred into Sunset Prep one year ago. It was hard to forget his appearance, with eyes an almost impossibly bright yellow hazel, and his array of against-school-protocol accessories; bracelets, rings, and piercings. At first he had been someone that he couldn't stand. It started with the fact that Vanitas had had some brief spats with Roxas' brother Ven, but… the idea of Vanitas just seem so disingenuous, words like "poser" coming to mind immediately. He didn't know if Vanitas still ticked off Ven, his older brother hadn't mentioned anything iffy about him since the first few weeks of Vanitas' transfer. Roxas reserved judgement. Perhaps the reason he felt so uncomfortable around him was the lowering heterosexuality points whenever Vanitas was around. He had a really intense vibe.
'Axel rang and said he couldn't get a hold of you,' Vanitas' voice was low and gravely, hit puberty especially young he supposed, with a rich tone that sounded… molten. Roxas explained that his battery ran out during lunch, trying not to seem overly eager in what he had to say. He didn't even know when he'd adopted a wanna-be devil-may-care act. Why did he want to impress someone like Vanitas? 'He wants to know how many people you're bringing tonight? We're going to the beach.'
'"We?"'
'Mhmm.' His voice came out a weird purr that did something to Roxas' blood, the corner of Vanitas' lips rising in an inviting smirk that made him avert eyes momentarily, flushing with heat. 'It's weird, that now a lot of us are in highschool, that our cliques are starting to mesh. Naminé, Babe, come here please.' His beckoning was a smooth gesture of his hand, and she floated around their table, sidling up in the chair next to Vanitas'. Were they dating? He thought absently. Her gaze was focused on the tabletop, the thick line of white lashes fanning up to gaze at Roxas briefly. 'We're friends of Marluxia's, Larxene's ex. We've got a ride with both of them and Sora's friends.'
'I guess I'm going with Axel. I need to check if they're taking his car.'
'We've got the "party stuff" going,' complete with exaggerated quotation marks, Vanitas' voice was just low enough to not spread to other tables. 'Are you guys set to bring the ice cream?' They were, essentially, fourteen-to-sixteen year olds. Roxas wondered absently how drugs snuck their way into the equation so early. It had been drilled into him that drugs were either the devil's work or the epitome of coolness. Bringing along the ice cream was the least of their worries.
'Sure!' Olette's answer was filled with life and brighter than she expected, green eyes twinkling in excitement. She coughed nervously but couldn't contain her spirit. Roxas side eyed her, smiling at her giddy dorkiness. She loved the beach. For a second he wondered whether Olette completely understood what "party stuff" meant.
Naminé picked up one of Roxas' black pens, twirling it lightly between her fingers, and hooked up one of the boxes in their dot game, drawing a cursive "n" between the multicolour lines. The both of them were surprised they hadn't seen the connection.
'Do you mind?' Vanitas' asked Olette, gesturing towards her collection of rainbow ballpoint pens. Her cheeks coloured but she nodded vigorously. Vanitas winked lazily as he picked up a pink one, bright confident stroke connecting a box close to the one that Naminé just sealed off, signed with a wayward "V". The three of them filled up brief moments of silence with conversation, mostly about Vanitas and Naminé's relationship to their friend group. As he'd said before, their main connection had initially been through Marluxia and Larxene, who Roxas had met a handful of times but had a brief picture of their personalities due to what the others said about them. Vanitas was actually closer to Axel and Saïx than Roxas assumed, and thus knew a few members of their group by default. The same went for Naminé, though this was all said through Vanitas. Roxas was surprised that none of the others had mentioned her before. She was also friends with Sora, Kairi, and Riku, who —being as popular as they were— were practically friends with everybody. It made him grin momentarily, imagining someone as talkative as Sora with someone quiet like Naminé.
She was eerie. It seemed that whenever Roxas looked up to watch her, she had just turned her head in a different direction, as if she had been watching him first. Sometimes he even caught her intense gaze, but in the end he was the one to pull away. The way she looked at him felt like feathers rubbing against his skin, soft but insistent and with a sharp scratch from the quill. If he caught her gaze too long he could feel the ice running down his spine. To lock eyes too long, in Roxas' point of view, was an action of intimacy or intimidation. If eyes were the windows to the soul, he would happily look away too avoid so much exposure. Naminé seemed unafraid of this, but he was sure not all of her supposed secrets would be discovered by simply seeing past her poker face.
He realised that Vanitas was actually a cool guy, if a little intense and demanding, a little more snarky when being charming wasn't his priority. By the end of the lesson he hadn't learnt anything from Naminé herself, save the fact that she had very graceful although near illegible handwriting.
Cloud, Ven, and Roxas were half brothers through their mom, and all lived in the same apartment. It was technically in Cloud's name, though they did get supporting payments from their wanderlust parents, who had been travelling the world for over a year now. Cloud spent maybe four out of seven days at their apartment, the other half of the week with a friend that lived closer to Hollow Bastion, where Radiant Garden University was located. It became apparent by Cloud's reactions to questions about them, that "companion" might be exchanged with "secret lover". Neither of them minded very much, though they did hope that he might introduce them later on. Ven and Roxas had always been fairly independent children, so shopping for groceries and washing their clothes on their own wasn't a big deal. As long as the apartment wasn't trashed by the time Cloud came back they had free reign. Their older brother told them that it was all right to sleep in his bedroom when he was away (which was a sign of bravery in itself— he really believed that he had nothing to hide) but the both of them kept to their shared bedroom, complete with bunk beds.
Ven stepped around the doorframe with the palms of his hands flat along the wall like a cartoon, one of them holding onto a mandarin. He asked the question, pressing his face into his neck so the baby fat created a second chin, "Are you may-chance, going to the beach tonight?"
If Roxas rolled his eyes harder they would have fallen out of their sockets. 'Please, don't ever say that again.'
'Roxas VitaleCastellano! When I was your age, they treated their elders with respect!'
'Ventus Lucio Castellano. You were born a grand total of thirteen minutes ahead of me, you dipstick.'
He waved them away, the beads of his hemp bracelets clanging into the checkered bracelet that matched Roxas' own (worn loyally even when their teachers repeatedly told them it was against the dress code). 'Details, details. You've gotta stop getting tied up on those little things, brah. They're really dragging you down.'
'What-ever,' stretching out the last two syllables.
He was a high schooler now, Quicksilver shirts, and baggy jeans weren't going to cut it, namely, things that his mum had picked out for him for the majority of prep school. Ven didn't mind it yet, but Axel said eventually he would, that there'd come a point when he'd want to burn his entire wardrobe, and it bubbled like a constant sick feeling right now. He didn't have the money right now to buy a new pair of trousers, so he picked up one of the jeans that fit him best and felt the fabric, tugging and pulling at the holes left behind by skateboarding accidents. While he was doing this, Ven sat next to him and the pile of clothes he was sorting through, the mandarin splurting out a cloud of fragrant citrus as he broke the skin.
'I'm judging by the mid-life crisis you're having in front of the closet that you're picking out an outfit for tonight?'
'"Mid-life crisis?"'
'Alright,' he amended, 'Quarter-life crisis? One third-life crisis?' He giggled stupidly as Roxas used momentum to hit Ven in the shoulder with his own. Without him even asking, Ven split the fruit in half and when he nudged Roxas' hand he turned it around to catch it, placing one of the segments between his teeth.
'What are you gonna wear?'
'Who cares? As long as I'm comfortable it doesn't matter.'
Roxas' lips stretched into a shit-eating grin.
Ven blanched, 'What?'
In a voice too high to imitate Ven's, he said, '"It doesn't matter if we win, as long as we're having fun, right?"'
'Shut up!' he laughed, adamantly returning his twin's shoves from before. 'I don't sound anything like that.'
'Yes, you do. It's high, and squeaky, and annoying.'
'We're twins, you dumbass! We sound the same.'
'I can't wait until I'm older so that people will stop confusing me with a tiny child.'
Ven reached up to mess up Roxas' hair, returned with a punch to the shoulder when the younger twin looked at himself in the mirror. Roxas was a deep thinker, and that was why choosing an outfit of all things had suddenly turned itself into such a difficult task.
'You looking to impress anyone at the meet up tonight?'
'No, don't be dumb,' he said, blatantly lying through his teeth.
Ven side-eyed him, but shrugged and replied nonchalantly, 'If you say so.'
'What about you?'
Shrugging again, he said, 'I've got someone I wanna hang out with, but I wouldn't say I want to impress them.'
'Who?'
He stuck out his tongue, performing the peace sign, 'Secret~'
Rolling his eyes, Roxas finished tearing away the threads from the worn pair of jeans, haphazardly pulling out a band t and a red flannel from his pile of clothes and watching it topple over. While they were getting dressed, Roxas turned on their stereo and killed time until eight o'clock when Hayner called and they would move out to start up Olette's escape plan.
Lacing up his sneakers and kicking up his skateboard, Roxas turned around to see how Ven was doing, catching him speaking on his phone in exasperation. He listened in to his side of the conversation while sitting on the arm of the sofa.
'It takes a bit to get there, and I have to help Rox with something.'
Roxas raised an eyebrow at Ven, not with any intention, more curiosity at who he was talking to. Ven rarely touched his phone; sometimes he purposely left it at home, even though he knew Roxas and Cloud prefer him to keep it on him. He would say something pretentious like 'it's better to feel more connected to the earth than technology' even when it became apparent he would not pass math without calculators, and would starve without a microwave. He wondered briefly what it would be like to live without being so attached to his phone. It did sound nice, not to be interrupted while you were concentrating. Admittedly though, he did drop a lot of things for his group chat with Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Chats with Axel ranged from minute-long messages into hours wasted. Maybe once he was older he'd find respite in turning his phone off for a little while.
The sun was starting to set. It was a wonder how in the world Olette managed her social life with such an early curfew. It wasn't that Ms. Gainsborough was a terrible mother, she was just too over protective, and probably didn't believe that Olette would go through a rebellious stage even though Aerith had (Cloud said she got away with a lot of stuff for someone that emanated sainthood).
'We have to help Olette break out of her room… Brown hair, green eyes… Cute?! I don't know if she's cute or not…' Ven narrowed his eyes and swiveled around in his chair, curling in and lowering his voice, but not enough apparently, 'I am not jealous.' Roxas placed his chin in his hands, smile stretching into a shit-eating grin. 'Shut up…' Ven quietly handed over Olette's address and then hung up with a quick humph noise, giving Roxas evil eyes when he turned around and his face was red. 'Not a word.'
'Who was that?' he interrogated as the both of them walked out of their apartment, making a steady pace down their stairs.
'No one.'
'No one? Your face is red.'
'No it isn't!'
'Fess up you nerd baby!'
'Your face is a nerd baby!'
After nearly pushing Roxas down the stairs, both of them got into gear and rid their boards as soon as they reached the apartment lobby. The entirety of the ride was uphill, but it wasn't so tiring that they needed to get off their skateboards and walk. Most of Twilight Town was built on mountain, and Main Street was the kind that ran through the entire city. No one had ever managed to ride down the entirety of the street, and all close attempts were rewarded with broken bones and other various injuries. Roxas wanted to be able to do that one day but he didn't know if it was even possible. It was less plausible while he was working his way uphill but he loved the thrill of skateboarding. It was similar to running across rooftops, climbing the cement terrain of Twilight Town's infrastructure. It was close to the feeling of diving into cold water, or climbing to a high point. Moving on a skateboard felt like being suspended, a higher form of transport, and a higher form of being than the simple land-dwelling creatures they were. To Roxas it was the closest thing he'd ever felt to flying.
Olette lived close to the top of the mountain. The nicer houses were near the top, with wide front yards and high gates. They'd known this since they were children. The top was also the location of Florence Elsewood Girl's School, and Twilight Private, a senior school. People that lived at the bottom of the mountain used to make fun of Olette for living so high up, so Roxas, Hayner, and Pence took it upon themselves to tell them off or beat them up.
'You think Olette's mum would better appreciate it if we asked to take Olette out?'
'Been there, done that. Her curfew is six o'clock and she doesn't get to change it until uni maybe, if she moves out… Or possibly senior year if Olette pushes hard enough.'
They jumped off their boards a few houses away from her own, spotting Hayner and Pence speaking to two other figures. It was hard to see, they were under the shade of the tree line close to Olette's gate.
'Did you guys cross an ocean to get here? We've been waiting forever,' Hayner exaggerated, ready with a rope ladder sticking out of his backpack. The two figures they'd been talking to were Vanitas and Naminé. For a moment he wondered which one of them Ven had been speaking to before. There was a high probability that it was Vanitas, since Naminé wasn't a big talker. The idea of Ven knowing what Naminé sounded like, and not him, made him furrow his eyebrows and click his tongue nervously. Vanitas was wearing a plethora of grungy accessories; five times what he wore to break uniform code. Naminé was wearing a short white dress with long sleeves that belled-out and swallowed her arms.
'What are you two doing here?'
'The meeting place is on the way,' Vanitas replied, waving it off dismissively. When Roxas looked at Naminé for confirmation her lips twitched as if she was trying to smile but couldn't quite make it. 'So… what's the game plan?'
'Olette's bedroom is on a balcony,' Pence supplied, 'but Olette is afraid of climbing the tree nearest to her window to get down, so someone is going to climb up and secure the rope ladder. That is, if we manage to get over her side gate without any trouble.'
'She should be setting up her dummy in the bed right now,' said Hayner. 'We just need the confirmation text before we can hop the fence.'
'You guys are so cute, pretending you're Mission Impossible protagonists,' Vanitas said sardonically, earning a soft punch from Ven. 'Who's climbing the tree?'
'Who is lighter?' Pence asked, eyes moving between Hayner and Roxas.
'S'probably Roxas, lookin' like a beansprout there,' the wiry blonde laughed at Roxas' soft glare. He shrugged, accepting his fate.
'I'm a better climber, that I admit. I'll climb the side gate and then you throw the rope over it before you head over. Ms. Gainsborough puts her trash right next to the gate so climbing it should be no problem.'
Hayner, Pence, and Roxas' text tones went off in unison, but Pence read it allowed.
'"Door closed. Dummy is in place."'
'Alright, let's jet.'
Hayner laced his hands together and Roxas launched off them to step on the bins, vaulting himself over the white fence. He landed stealthily, with as little noise as possible, catching the backpack as it arced over the fence in the same fashion. He was unable to unlatch the lock, and from experience, he remembered that it made a shit-tonne of noise anyway, so as Hayner made his way over the fence he moved to the back of Olette's yard. There was a large glass door in the back, and they needed to get past it to the safe area next to the tree. Ms. Gainsborough was speaking on the phone, with lights on, facing the backyard. She was leant up against the kitchen counter and didn't look like she was going to move any time soon.
[ txt . pence ] problem?
[ txt . roxas ] mrs g isn't moving
[ txt . pence ] wait vanitas has an idea
Olette parted the curtains of her window but from inside she wouldn't be able to see the both of them in the shadows. The doorbell rang and Mrs. Gainsborough placed her hand over the receiver for a moment before continuing her conversation. The doorbell rang once more, and Mrs. Gainsborough said, "I'll call you back," before hanging up and heading for the door. As soon as she was out of the living room Roxas and Hayner sprinted across the glass space, skidding to a stop next to the old tree.
'What light from yonder window breaks?' Roxas whisper shouted, and was greeted with a sarcastic "ha, ha" from Olette. The rope was too heavy to throw, so he needed to get climbing. Hayner was there once more to provide some extra lift so Roxas could start the climb, moving precariously across the boughs. He was already halfway up a storey when Olette opened her balcony door fully, rushing forward to see if Roxas was going to fall or not. But he cat-walked across the very last boughs and leapt onto the balcony. He tried to be quiet about it, but he did make a loud thump noise, this was followed by footsteps steadily moving upstairs.
Olette and Roxas started to panic. There was nowhere to hide on the balcony, and Olette was in party gear. She grabbed his wrist and moved him to hide under the bed while she flung herself under the covers.
'Olette?' her mom opened the door, Roxas could see the silhouette of her heeled shoes through the long frills of her purple duvet. He covered his mouth and tried not to breath. 'Are you alright? I heard a noise.'
'What?' she tried her best to sound like she'd just woken her daughter up, voice raspy and slightly annoyed. 'Mom, I don't know what you're talking about.'
'I'm sorry, Sweetie. I'm just on edge… This hooligan just asked me if I wanted to join some kind of cult, rattling on and on about this being the perfect time and moon solstices.'
'Mom, please. I have a politics exam tomorrow.'
'Absolutely, Darling. Sweet dreams.'
'Goodnight, Mom.'
They waited a good ten minutes, or that was what Olette said. Every breath underneath the bed felt like a millennia. He was surprised that she didn't keep junk under the bed like every other teenager, as far as the eye could see, just soft beige carpet. He commando crawled out from underneath the bed when she prompted and the both of them made their way onto the balcony.
'Never thought I'd be a girl to hide a boy under her bed,' she giggled and Roxas winked. He secured the rope ladder from the bars of her balcony, holding it tight for extra measure while Olette climbed down. Once she was on the ground, he quickly unfastened it and stuffed it into the backpack, making a hasty retreat down. They hid the backpack in one of Olette's flower bushes and helped each other climb up the fence. It was only now that he took in the time to see what she was wearing; jean shorts and a fitting orange tank top. It might have been normal to other people, but Olette was the sort to cover up whenever possible. He could even spot a bit of lip gloss, which was weird considering the only thing she possessed that even resembled make up was chap stick. She looked really good. Roxas could tell by Hayner and Pence's reactions that they were surprised too, at least until she told them to quit it. 'Thank you Vanitas, for freaking out my mum.'
'Anytime.'
'That was so exciting!' she said, absolutely giddy with the thrill of teenage rebellion. 'I should do this more often. I'm going to start practice climbing the tree.'
'So, where to?' Ven asked Vanitas.
'The Train Station.'
He hoped there wasn't anything too conspicuous about seven teenagers buying ice cream at seven o'clock at night. Ven and Vanitas lingered outside the store and argued about something menial while Olette had a semi-one sided conversation with Naminé, who replied by nodding or shaking her head. They purchased an entire box and hoped it would stay frozen long enough to reach Horizon Beach. Axel had confirmed earlier that there was a cooler in his car.
The walk to the train station was filled with idle banter about school and rumours. Vanitas borrowed Roxas' skateboard to show off some tricks. He was really good.
They sat across from each other when the seven of them piled into the train for Horizon Beach. She sat elegantly, crossing one leg over the other at the knee, the toe of her white Doc Marten pointed out, like a dancer. She had her hands laced delicately in her lap, and often she stared through Roxas, at the scenery behind his head, but sometimes he found that her eyes locked on to his, and her intense expression seemed to soften just a little bit. He could've just imagined it because he was never able to keep eye contact long enough.
He basked in the feeling of being with his friends during night time. There was something dangerous and taboo about it. He supposed this is what Olette felt when she was sneaking out for the first time. He knew Cloud wouldn't approve of it, but he wouldn't dissuade it either. He probably did similar things when he was in high school and now that he was in university. Axel had always been a bad influence on him, but the one thing he did was save things like sneaking out and beach parties until Roxas was at least in high school, so Roxas had never done something like this before; leaving home without the intent to return home by midnight. It was exciting. He could feel the electricity thrumming through his veins.
'So how come the both of you haven't tried to… talk to us before this?' Pence was at the same time, the most compassionate and unsubtle person at the same time.
'The both of us,' Vanitas admitted, 'are not good at making friends, I because of being so aesthetically pleasing and devilishly charming that others find me intimidating, and Nami… doesn't speak. For anyone.'
Olette shuffled forward and asked, 'Is it that you can't talk, or don't want to?' She realised immediately either that the question wasn't "yes or no" or that the question was invasive and a little rude. Naminé didn't look like she was going to answer anyway. Olette immediately started blushing and apologising, though the blonde made a small gesture for her to stop by fluttering her hand, looking amused.
'She doesn't like revealing either one. People try to force her to talk, the more quiet she gets,' golden eyes locked on Naminé's, very pigmented blue on the harsh train lights, and the both of them nodded in tandem. They'd probably been friends for a long time. 'But that doesn't mean she takes shit from anyone.'
'No, that definitely was not what I was insinuating.'
Vanitas turned back to Naminé and she blinked at him slowly, 'Naminé says it's alright, and also that it's in your best interest to give Vanitas ten munny.'
Roxas laughed but freaked out when something wet and sticky touched his thigh. He got up and realised that the ice cream box next to him was melting. 'Um, how long until we reach the beach?' Blue tinted liquid started seeping through the cardboard and making a puddle on the chair.
'Oh my god, Roxas!' Pence exclaimed, pointing to a set of rules next to the railway map. 'It says no food or drink on the train.'
'Sea salt ice cream isn't "food" or "drink", it's the delicious tears of the gods,' he replied, panicking.
'Um, Olette,' said Hayner, 'You're a girl, what's in your bag?'
'That sounds kind of sexist, but I do have a bag,' Olette replied, kneeling on the floor and emptying her backpack out. It was probably a lot quicker than sorting through it because she had a lot of stuff in there, very Hermione-esque. She liked to be ready for anything. She singled out a travel sized Kleenex packet and some make-up wipes.
'Will those help?' Hayner pointed to some brightly coloured squares and Olette grabbed them, stuffing them back into the bag, flushing and muttering "no". 'I'm wearing an extra tank top-'
'Great, take it off and wipe this down,' Roxas ordered.
'Wow, Roxas. That was not what I was saying at all. I was gonna say "I'm melting," but fine, have it your way.' Hayner tried to pull off the tank top but it got caught on his fake dog tags. Like a line of dominoes, he crashed into Vanitas who immediately slipped into the pool of blue-tinted sugar.
'Watch where you're fucking going,' he snapped, shoving Hayner off who immediately crashed into Pence and Naminé who at this point were cleaning up the mess with sleeves and jackets. Olette was panicking so much that she'd taken off her tank, with only a cropped swimming top underneath. Roxas, joining in the manic atmosphere sacrificed his shirt as well, managing to get a good portion of it before the train reached Horizon Beach. After that it was a collective effort to lift the soggy parts of the cardboard box and haul it through the gates, across the station, and onto the beach. Roxas, Olette, Hayner, and Pence held onto the edge of the box while Ven and Naminé ran ahead of them, Vanitas lagging behind with his camera taking pictures of the ridiculous scene.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing Solari?' Hayner, red-faced and half crazed, tried to kick sand at him. Naminé crashed into Axel, who sprinted like a long-legged giant to grab the cooler from his boot. He smashed it down right in time for them to throw down the mangled ice cream.
'I see that your kiddie pool didn't hesitate to completely ruin their only task,' Saïx noted lighting up his pretentious clove cigarettes. Roxas only shrugged, hot and sticky from humidity and the slimy residue of the ice cream. They had all come a mess. Anyone wearing white had been in for a semi-permanent smurfification; Pence accidentally ran a hand through his hair and now it looked like a towering pineapple, Vanitas had blue smeared all over his face, dripping down his deeply unimpressed expression, Ven was laughing at him could barely contain his glee while Vanitas pushed him aside, Roxas was in a similar state, licking his fingers subconsciously.
Naminé sat next to him, and even though she was blue tinted too, she didn't seem to mind. She faced him and after a moment of careful deliberation Roxas mimicked the action, smiling at her shyly. She raised a finger and wiped it down his cheek, leaving a trail of sparking fire and a heady red flush in her wake. She wrapped her tongue around it like a lollipop, his stomach flip-flopping like a dying fish, electricity thrumming across his skin and making his hair stand on end.
'Roxas.'
Her voice was so soft, but in Roxas' pleasure-numbed mind it was deafening, and he could do nothing but smirk and nod. He followed the hand pointed at the ocean, which gripped his wrist and started leading it towards it. His name had been an unspoken question, heavy and distant like he'd heard it through water.
Ready?
Naminé Belladonna was a kind of unstoppable force, like a black hole, or something all-consuming and absolutely terrifying. Like the waves she pulled him in, and he realised in that moment that if he never stopped breathing the cloud of ocean spray then he wouldn't mind.
Not even if he drowned.