Title: That Fragile Capricorn
Summary: Naminé's sick. Roxas visits.
Disclaimer: I don't own KH. Same goes for Northern Downpour.
Blame the banality and OOCness on me, if you please.
Heading out to visit a sick friend was becoming less and less of a great, heartwarming idea for Roxas as more thunderheads blanketed the slate blue sky, all memory of the scorching day withering into the blustery wind.
His skateboard sent a few chunks of gravel flying as he sped round a corner. He still had a few blocks to go.
This had been the fifth day his stomach had sunk to the ground when the bell rang and the seat beside him stayed empty. If he were the type of guy who ran a commentary on everything he did or felt, he'd whine about missing the soft sound of a pencil etching on paper. No, that was the lanky-redheaded-anorexic-passing-off-as-his-guy-best-friend's job, whose loud observation of Roxas' misery was fairly redressed by an upside smack to the jaw. Of course, it only made Axel widen the scope of his announcement, so that by the end of class everyone knew where Roxas was headed, and allegedly why.
Nonetheless, the regret of having to endure gossip about his new relationship status for the next few days took the back seat as Roxas braked in front of the quaint residence, unbolted the low picket fence, dashed up the path, knocked, wondered if anyone was home, knocked again, and was taken aback.
"Good Lord," "Jeez, Naminé," and "You look like hell!" made it to the tip of his tongue, but all he managed to squeak out was, "Uh… hi?"
Naminé resembled Quasimodo, wrapped in a million duvets, quilts, and comforters. Her platinum-blond hair was plastered to her face, and she looked ready to cry a river.
"I think I prefer 'You look like hell'," she said, her words slurring at the edges.
Roxas peered inside, hiding a small shiver. "Isn't Hayner staying with you?" He bit back a chuckle when the blankets threatened to bury Naminé as she gave an almighty sneeze. She shook her head slowly, rubbing her left eye kittenishly.
"Wooded led hib. Wud are you doid here?"
Roxas dithered between pretending he didn't hear her and just giving her a bear hug, but he immediately rushed to her side when she swayed slightly on the spot. Heat emanated from her body, warming Roxas instantly. Acting as her crutch, he steered her towards the staircase.
"Come on, you shouldn't even be walking around."
Naminé snorted softly. "How'd you plan to get in, then?"
"There's always the tree by your window."
After laying Naminé on the bed, Roxas shrugged off his Twilight High blazer and loosened his tie. It had finally begun to pour outside, and the drumbeat on the gable roof lulled Naminé into a light slumber.
Roxas settled at the foot of her bed and took out his iPod. For the most of an hour, he watched the rain fall in rivulets on the window. He felt someone's eyes on his back, turning to find that Naminé had already woken up. He raised an eyebrow.
"It means a lot that you're here," she said quietly.
He took out an earphone. "Sorry?"
She sighed. "What are you doing here?"
Roxas winced, but passed it off as a shrug. "Thought you could use some company. Isn't that what best friends do?" In the poor light he wasn't too sure, but he thought he saw Naminé blush.
"As your best friend, I wouldn't wanna pass on the virus. By the way, how's school?"
I missed you. "Oh, we're doing fine without you—" Roxas was cut off by a projectile stuffed panda. He cleared his throat. "And, uh, Axel's telling everyone we're together now."
"We are together."
"In the deeper sense."
She coughed. "The douche. Bet he's just jealous that Larxene made a pass at you, not at him."
"She thinks it'll force him to drop that hard-to-please attitude."
"Right."
If anyone asked, Naminé was the sort who didn't say much. She was always, always alone, with sad blue eyes and that sketchbook of hers. Unfortunately, that made her prey to Seifer, Fuu, and Rai. Fortunately, Roxas was there when it happened. On that day, everyone realized that Roxas did not tolerate three-on-one attacks, and Naminé realized there was more to him than meets the eye.
"What were you listening to?" she asked, willing her cheeks to stop betraying her emotions.
Roxas surprised Naminé by moving next to her. She inched away a little, making room and putting space between them. He offered an earphone and pressed play. The melody was very familiar.
...chasin' off the days
Look back at boat feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east
You clicked your heels and wished for me
Roxas caught Naminé nodding off again. He felt her forehead with the back of his hand and quickly pulled away.
"Nam, you're burning up!"
She mumbled something that sounded like, "I'm really gonna miss their music."
He stood carefully. "I'll just grab a towel and some cold water. I'll be back."
Roxas wrung the cloth out and placed it on Naminé's forehead. He felt sorry when she flinched, a hiss escaping her lips.
"I'm not really good at this, but it's what my mom does. It helps, right?"
"Roxas, don't go," slurred Naminé. Her hand blindly searched for his. Puzzled, he caught it, lacing his fingers with hers.
Ever since they started hanging out, Roxas learned at least one curious thing about her each day.
Like that time they were swinging in the playground after school. They'd made a deal—loser would treat them both to sea salt ice cream—and launched themselves onto the grass, Roxas landing the farthest. The laughter had died when he'd suddenly gripped Naminé's leg, which had an ugly gash at the knee. She'd waved it off and gamely got to her feet. As they enjoyed the ice cream she'd still insisted on buying, Roxas realized that Naminé didn't think much of herself.
Or that incident involving Axel, a box of matches, and Naminé's sketchbook. Despite the wintry air about her, Roxas realized that Naminé could easily forgive and forget.
Now, he realized that fevers unhinged her a bit.
"Sea salt ice cream won't taste the same without you. Heck, I don't even have ruby slippers."
He was silently shaking with laughter, sobering up when he understood what she meant.
While Naminé was happy with getting an art degree at Twilight Academy, his parents were resolute on sending him to a notable boarding school in Radiant Garden, which had granted him a scholarship. The busy schedule would leave him with free time only on weekends. Naminé would be a five-hour bus ride away.
He ran his free hand through her hair, certain that Hayner would lynch him if he'd been there.
"It's not as bad as it sounds. If you're free on Saturdays or Sundays we could—" he paused as Naminé draped an arm over him, burying her face in his side.
"Just wouldn't be the same," she mumbled.
A small smile lifted the corner of Roxas' mouth. He shifted so he could put his arm around Naminé, and she snuggled closer. They stayed like that for a while, Roxas being lulled by the steady rise and fall of Naminé's once more peaceful form. She smelled sweet, and he tried to fix that simple, floral scent into his memory.
Before Roxas' eyes finally closed, Naminé murmured something into his shirt.
"Hmn?" said Roxas drowsily, with all the effort he could muster.
"Why'd they ask the moon to forget to fall down?"
Roxas forced the cobwebs away and mulled it over. "They want to keep dreaming. They don't want to wake up."
"From what?"
Roxas checked Naminé, who seemed only half-awake. He had a feeling that she wouldn't have any memory of this in the morning. So he began to sing.
"If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me."
Naminé seemed to perk up a bit. "I think it means that people would rather go on with their familiar, materialistic lives than wake up and realize that nothing really matters."
"Except for those who matter to you."
Naminé fell silent, her eyes growing wide. Roxas watched amusedly as her eyes flitted from his own cerulean ones to her arm still draped over him, then back again. She started shifting to a less awkward position, but Roxas caught her arm and gently pulled her back. "Don't go."
Now that he was up close, he could clearly see the crimson tint her cheeks. Unconsciously, he traced her jaw line, down to her small, pale pink lips. He slowly leaned forward.
At this most inopportune moment did Naminé scrunch up her nose and sneeze violently. Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh jeez, I'b sorry!"
Luckily, Roxas had seen it coming and backed away. He struggled to keep a straight face. "I guess you're allergic to snogging, huh?"
"Shud up."
Roxas obliged as they settled into each other's arms again. Naminé grabbed a nearby box of Kleenex. "On second thought, sing to me again."
"But—you were half-asleep!" spluttered Roxas.
"Come on. If Panic had to find a new Ryro you'd definitely be in top five." She tilted her head. "You sound more like Jesse McCartney, though."
Roxas' left eye developed a tic at being compared to a guy nicknamed JMac. "Thanks. I guess."
Naminé poked him in the stomach. "Sing!"
He sighed. "This does not leave the room."
Roxas had always limited his audience to his showerhead, but this was worth seeing the sunshine in Naminé's smile.
Definitely worth a slightly ballistic older brother of Naminé's dragging a slightly feverish best friend-cum-boyfriend of Naminé's to the living room to let him spend the stormy night.
A/N: Yeah. There are drabbles, then there are clumsy, pointless drabbles. The above fanfic most likely falls in the latter, most probably because it's my first D8
I gather that flames aren't easy to handle, but hey, the truth shall set me free. Say anything you want, as long as you think it'll help me with my mediocrity.
One more thing before I shut up: I don't hate Axel. I actually ship AkuRoku, especially those by Dualism, Quillslinger, VIII of XIII, A Spot of Bother, and .project. Seriously, if you're looking for premium pick-me-ups to wash down the inanity I just put you through, they have 'em :D