Naminé hated rain.
The way it drummed impatiently onto any substance it found, weeping intensely as it attempted to unleash its sorrow on the world. Rain was selfish, which was mainly why she loathed it. After all, despairing and trying to drag the entire planet into its gloom wasn't exactly generous.
The flaxen haired blond paused in the middle of her sketch, too enthralled in her thoughts to finish the pencil marks that made up a dwarfish shrub. It wasn't fair. Rain could sweep every being into sadness without guilt but she couldn't. She couldn't. It seemed impossibly unjust.
She had sacrificed almost everything. She, the little porcelain doll the organization locked in a simple white room with only her work for company. She, who bore bruises and endured beating day after day from a mocking nymph and feminine man with lush pink locks,.
Naminé unconsciously propped her elbow onto her pristine chair, leaning forward slightly as bitterness overcame her. Memories surged through her mind, refusing to be contained; a girl with cropped raven hair, blinding white teeth set in a cheery smile as she strolled with two males – a boy with sun-kissed spikes and a slightly taller boy with a mane of bristling scarlet.
Xion. Roxas. Axel.
The three names firmly repeated themselves in her numbing head. The trio of the organization; they were always together, finding happiness in each other's company and of course; sea salt ice cream. Xion stole Roxas effortlessly from her and thanks to the lovely girl, the time Roxas spent with her dwindled into nothingness.
A quiet smile flickered faintly onto her lips as she recalled her beloved Roxas. "I love him," she murmured thoughtfully, "but he doesn't even look at me anymore thanks to her." The boy with soft blond spikes and mysterious, stormy lapis eyes wasn't hers anymore.
Wet. There was wetness on her cheeks, Naminé realized with some confusion. Why would the skin on her cheeks be damp? Her fingers drifted hesitantly up to her the arch of her cheek and touched it.
Oh.
She was crying.
Tears. It had been months since she wept out of anger, sorrow or joy. But you can't feel, a voice reminded her.
Yes I can, she argued silently, finding the torrent of tears somehow… comforting. Tears. Perhaps she was… sad?
"Yes," she decided aloud, "it means I must be sad."
Sadness. The mere word was curious; after all, emotions were exotic at least to the pale nobody. "So it truly means I care deeply for him?" she wondered quietly.
"Care for who?" a masculine voice inquired curiously.
Naminé instinctively glanced up, her left hand covering her sketchbook protectively. "Ah!" she cried, scuttling slightly back into her chair.
Roxas peered at her boyishly. "Is there something wrong Naminé?" he asked worriedly, striding towards her. Concern was written on his face as he quickly took her by the shoulders and examined her features. "You're… you're crying!" he exclaimed. "Who did this to you? What happened?" he shouted anxiously.
The paler blond stared into his eyes. "Don't even try to pretend you care," she whispered monotonously. "Don't you even try."
The keyblade wielder was taken aback. "What are you talking about? Of course I care!" he replied, stung by her words. "I thought you'd be pleased to see me, Namie."
Naminé ignored him, shrugging of his grip on her shoulders and returning her attention to the sketchbook. "On the contrary, I don't appreciate the company of liars," she murmured softly, "so, please go."
Roxas stared at her for a moment, shocked. "What has gotten into you, Naminé?" he ranted. "I think I'll just go see Xion since she actually enjoys my company. I thought you knew me the best but I guess I was wrong." He stormed from the room, black gloves rigid and steps filled with rage.
The blond continued in silence, her eyes darting upwards; just once, to the window.
It was raining, weeping intensely, vigorously.
Selfish.
Pain.
Forever.
"I hate you."