Powder-pink fingertips trail along his shoulders in a manner that is teasing, as if the blunt nails are razors, delicately cutting away the clothing atop and being so slow and deliberate as to not mar the skin beneath. Sora turns his face, which is painted with rose-colored shame, and does his best not to think about the soft locks of layered coral brushing so delicately against his cheek, tries to ignore the strong scent of freesia and rose stems, and shuts his glittery blue eyes upon feeling cherry-blossom colored lips move against his ear, whispering things that are both sick and sweet to his idealistic self.
"We can leave this place, just the two of us; go back to that little island you adore so. Come now, with me; shirk the painful responsibilities weighing on your delicate little heart, forsake all those who are taking advantage of you, not caring in the slightest about what you want," the flower-petal mouth stopp momentarily to sharply kiss, almost nip at the boy's sunkissed ear before ending his statement,"not like me, who knows exactly what you want and would love so very much to oblige you..."
In the massive white queen's castle of oblivion, with nothing but his own heartbeat -- no memories -- to comfort him or turn to, Sora wishes he had said yes.