So, here is the promised short story told from Naminés point of view about how she and the other gangsters from "Every Bit of You" met each other.

If you happened upon this story and have not read "Every Bit of You," don't worry. You don't have to read it to read this. All you need to know is that it is an au story that took place in 1922 during prohibition. Naminé at that time was fifteen. So when she mentions her age at different points in this story, I trust that you can do basic math to figure out what year it is. :D

Alright, format is kinda the same as Larxene's diary entries in "Every Bit of You." Italics are Naminés thought process as she's laying there on the floor in the last chapter of "Every Bit". Non-italics are flash back.

Other than that, enjoy! I'm really trying to keep this a short story. Under ten chapters. YOU KNOW…

Enjoy?

This…

This never would have happened if I'd never met him.

I think back on that night and I wonder what could have happened if I'd only just ran away. I would have never met him, or any of these people. And maybe it wouldn't have been so bad.

Whenever somebody used to ask me how I met Marluxia, I would lie. I would lie through my teeth and there would never be a single person that I would ever tell the truth to. Even now as I lay here thinking on it, I can't say I regret all those lies. Every story was different. Every location. Paris, London, Rome. All were places I would paint a vibrant picture of with the tales I would spin on how I met the man they all held in such high respect. All were places Marluxia had told me about, and they were places I longed to see but never would.

They all knew I was lying. They knew from the start that I was some poor, worthless nothing. But that didn't stop them from humoring me. They knew that I knew, they knew I was lying. So I didn't mind when someone who I had already told of the Great Adventure of Athens gathered around to hear the Amazing Traverse of Berlin. It was all one big joke, but I think they also knew there was a specific reason I didn't want to talk about it.

In truth, I'm very ashamed. I know they wouldn't think any less of me. Marluxia never did. But I think less of me.

I remember that night so clearly. It was seared into my memory and I'll never be able to remove it. It had to be at least two in the morning. It was freezing outside but that didn't matter for girls like me. We weren't allowed to seek shelter and we had to wear the bare minimum if we wanted to get our work done. It was all about the money…

… … …

Naminé shivered as she kicked around the snow under her feet. There was scarcely a person on the street at this hour. Most the drunkards had stumbled their way home with their wives or mistresses and that meant no work for her tonight. She hated this work, but anything was better than standing out in the cold waiting. She'd be glad for the fattest, sloppiest most crude drunk in the world to come approach her if it meant getting out of the snow for just a moment. She knew her pimp was watching, irritated that she'd failed to solicit a customer tonight. It would mean a beating later. She had almost resolved to just give up and accept the punishment she had coming when she saw a man exiting the club across the street. He was tall and clearly twice her age but he was still young and very handsome. She whistled to catch his attention and motioned him over. "What's a gentleman like you doing out so late?"

Marluxia looked to the young girl across the way curiously. He'd noticed her standing there when he first reached the club with his father's business associates nearly four hours ago. She was still there and still barely clothed. She couldn't have been any older than eleven and it made him sad to know that she was out this late at night for one reason and one reason only. He made his way over to her slowly and smiled. At least he could treat her like a human being and acknowledge her existence. "I'm just out celebrating with my father and his associates."

Naminé cocked an eyebrow at the man. "Celebrating? What does a handsome young gentleman like you have to celebrate with a bunch of stuffy old business men?"

"Law school." Marluxia smiled proudly. "I've been accepted to Harvard Law School. Not an easy task for a Jewish-American."

Naminé furrowed her brow. Jewish. Damn, an immigrant. It was likely he didn't have money at all. Still, his appearance said otherwise and he spoke as though he was at least a second generation American. Anyhow, enough small talk. Back to business. "So…"

"What about you?" Marluxia smiled sweetly and leaned down so that he was face level with the girl. "What's a young girl like you doing out in the cold snow this late?"

Naminé huffed and crossed her arms. "I'm not a young girl. I'm a young woman."

"My apologies." Marluxia chuckled. "And what is your name, young woman?"

Naminé bit her lip nervously and glanced behind her as she heard her pimp grunt. He was growing agitated. She looked back at the man before her, his blue eyes piercing right through her. Nobody had ever really looked her in the eyes before. Not her johns, not even her pimp. She couldn't even look her own reflection in the eyes. This man's gaze captivated her. "M-my name? It's Naminé."

Marluxia paused as if in thought before nodding with a smile. "That's a lovely name, Naminé. And how old are you, exactly?"

"Sixteen." Naminé lied. She couldn't tell him her real age. She knew that someone like him wouldn't understand. He had money, talent, refinement. The wealthy never understood prostitution, especially not before puberty. He would judge her. He would degrade her. So she lied. "I'm sixteen, turning seventeen next August."

Marluxia mused quietly to himself. Even if he was dumb, he would know better than to believe that. "I see. Well, I'm sorry I missed your birthday." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch. He glanced at the time before quickly tucking it away again. It was nearing three o'clock. "My my, look at the time."

Naminé watched as the man reached into his vest pocket before quickly clasping her hand and bringing it to his lips. When he released her hand, she noticed he had deposited something in it. She turned her hand over and was shocked to see a fifty dollar bill in her palm.

"For your company." Marluxia winked at the young girl as she stared up at him in awe. "Take it, buy yourself some clothes and get a real job. You don't belong on the streets."

Naminé watched as the man turned and began to walk away. "W-wait!" She watched quietly as he stopped in his tracks. "What's your name?"

Marluxia glanced back at the young girl. "My name is Marluxia." He continued on slowly down the street back toward his hotel which was only a few yards away. He made his way up to his room and looked out the window to the street below. He saw Naminé still there, though no longer alone. She was being harassed by a sleazy looking man that he assumed must be her pimp. He watched as the man shoved her around, obviously anxious to get at the money he'd given her. It angered Marluxia to see a girl being treated so terribly.

He knew he should ignore it. His father had raised him to mind his own business. Still, he couldn't just let this happen.