Ha. Don't kill me- this one's short. Really short. And I'm working on Solitaire! Go check it again, it has 2k more words in the fifth chapter than there were before. Well, sixth on here, but I don't count the prologue.
Rightio! I wrote this one awhile ago, and I happened upon it, and figured I could use it as a Christmas Present! Er, holiday present, to stay politically correct. I like it. It's not angsty, for once XD Right... anyway, Happy Christmahanukwanzacas! Hope your days are filled with joy, your dreams fulfilled, and you find love and happiness with every rise and set of the sun.
This is to my friends, my family, and you, the reader.
Disclaimer: I figure if I lure Roxas away with Sea-Salt icecream, Axel will come to save him, so I'd have Axel and Roxas in my fangirl-basement (every real fangirl has one, with pink handcuffs and trapped bishies). Then DiZ would send Riku to rescue Roxas so Sora could be saved, and I'd have Riku. Then Sora would wake up anyway, because he's Sora, and no matter what, Sora always finds a way. Even if it's physically, mentally, and fangirl-ly (we deserve a whole new category, what with the stuff we come up with) impossible. Then I'd have Riku, Sora, Roxas, and Axel! And I'd be happy! But... well... right now, I don't. But wait, just wait. One day.
S.m.i.l.e
--I did impossible things because they were never pointed out to me that they were impossible.
I loved Roxas. Subject, verb, object. There was no other way to put it. What was a word's purpose, anyway, if not to describe? And this word did the job perfectly. Not that I would ever admit it, of course. Oh no. See, me and Roxas had a sort of balance, a precarious equilibrium. I didn't want to upset that, no. I was content with where I was, for now. Didn't want to take the risk. Always so close, never close enough. But that was a Nobody's fate, right? Always stuck in the middle. Always in Twilight. Never just black, never just white. Grey- another word. Another description. It fit.
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Fact: Nobodies didn't have hearts.
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I watched the blonde across from me out of the corner of my eyes, taking note of each minute detail, each unconscious movement, each and any action that might signify Roxas's mood. I watched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow tilt downward, a perfectly manicured hand twitch slightly as it moved to turn a perfect white page. I watched perfect sapphire blue eyes cloud as they roved across inked words, taking nothing in. Completely, seamlessly, perfectly flawed, that was Roxas.
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Fact: Nobodies didn't have emotions.
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It was an elegant, coordinated, and above all intricate dance, each move careful and planned, each tiny, seemingly insignificant detail filled with meaning. Every action, no, step, had another that would follow it, an expected result. I would step forward, Roxas would step back. Roxas would glide left, I would swerve right, the continuous mirror of the other. Then, invariably, one of us would make a mistake, would slip, would jar the graceful pattern, and, invariably, we would be forced by our own design to start all over again. From the top, now. Yet begin again we would, for we couldn't resist the undeniable urge to tap into that energy, experience that thrill, dance that dance just one more time. We were like moths to a flame, flying in to experience the heat, flying out before we were burned. Repeat, again and again.
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Fact: Roxas never lied, and I never stopped.
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Some questioned it, most just wondered. How could two opposites ever work together? But we were like pieces of the same puzzle- two of the same could never fit. Instead, you must have two different. One has a space, the other fills it, and just like that, we each filled the hole in the other's chest where our hearts were supposed to be, even if Roxas didn't know that's what I was doing. I did, though, for one simple reason.
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Fact: I was the only one who could make Roxas smile.
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And everything was okay. Because you know what they say, smiles are the best medicine. Well, I suppose it's actually laughter, but smiles work too. And, of course, true love conquers all. Which, I guess, it just did.
A/N: Short, huh? I know. But I've gotta go wrap presents. Psh, no, I didn't procrastinate. Well, ta!
P.S.: No angsty, depressingy death this time! Aren't you proud of me?