"If you loved me…" she starts, looking up at him with shy blue eyes that beg him, please please please, to stop her there. He doesn't. He lets the accusation sit, revels in the what ifs that make her want to rip her heart out, because that's where the hurt comes from, right? Heartless don't feel, do they? But she falters anyways. Because, suddenly, she realizes she has no idea what would happen then. How do you tell if someone loves you when they don't? Her head starts to spin, and all he does is watch, flame turned to smoldering ash.
"If you really hated me," he begins with a smirk.
"I do!" Her entire porcelain body shakes with hurt and anger and defiance.
He rolls bright green eyes and continues. "If you really hated me, would you be here now?" He makes a sweeping gesture to include their two contrasting figures, the dark luxury of his room, the wide view of the heart-shaped moon outside his open window, and the castle in general. And as he says that, he feels the hole inside where his heart isn't get a little bit bigger because, actually, he's pretty sure she does, not that he blames her for it, he's a bit of a heartless bastard, sorry for the pun, and he's positive she's stuck here either way. Castles aren't always for keeping people out, now are they?
"I'm leaving," she tells him finally. He shakes his head.
"No you're not. Where would you go?" He laughs because he can't cry, that's what the tattoos are for. Fake tears for empty people with make-believe problems, or is it the other way 'round?
"Not the castle. Just you." Her voice shakes, but she says it, finally. It's almost like good-bye, except that good-byes are never good.
"I'm leaving," he tells her, standing in the doorway to her white, white, white room. She's kept her word, and he hasn't seen her since, but he wants to tell someone, no one, and the only other person who might care is long gone. That's what it's all about anyways. Roxas.
"What?" She looks up, startled, and attempts to cover up the rough crayon sketch of red and black and green like the scars that aren't on her heart, can't be on her heart for oh so obvious reasons. You can't scar a hole, you can't hurt a witch.
"I'm going to help Sora. You know, the hero." He doesn't smirk, just smiles sardonically, which seems the same until you look him in the eyes and see him. Still not crying. "He won't be able to get here otherwise, and there's that business with the girl…" Kairi. He tells himself he doesn't feel bad about it, about manipulating her, but then he gets confused as to which her he's talking about, and he forgets that the hole's in his heart not his head, because he doesn't have any room left for regrets.
The pretty little witch nods, and he pretends he doesn't see the fine layer of ash that covers the white, white, white of her now, because that's all his fault too and he can't take anything back anymore.
"Good-bye," she says in her quiet little voice. "I won't forget you when you're gone either."
He doesn't say anything, because she's seen straight into his fears and gently laid them to rest, and that's much more than he's ever deserved. He leaves, and she shuts the door behind him and ignores the sudden chill she feels, a few hours later, like a beautiful fire just flickered out at last.