A Wishful Thought (A Note From The Author): I know. I'm absolutely a terrible person. XP I should probably work on the other chapters for my current ongoing stories (I have two chapters for two different stories that are only half-written!) but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I was in the mood for some somewhat depressing realism. So here goes. :]
DISCLAIMER. I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of The Script songs that may show up in here. ;)
Why?
"This is it. This is. . . the last of it. Of all of it. . ."
Roxas looked up from his bitter coffee. "The last. . . of it?"
The woman who sat across from him nodded sadly, her fingers fidgeting with the flap of the envelope. Her blonde hair had grown out a lot, and her formerly bright eyes were now practically lifeless. It was easy to make out the dried tears that had fallen from her eyes.
He quickly turned his gaze away from her, not wanting to begin to comprehend the horrible situation that they had gotten into. He had no other choice to look at the small apartment, which was even worse to look at. The walls were stripped bare of all artwork, all photos, and décor. The television was gone, and all that was left in the room was the standard battered sofa that came with the rent of their apartment. The kitchen was practically bare too, only a couple cans of food left, only a couple bottles of water left. The bathroom had been stripped bare, and he knew that the single bedroom was too, only containing a standard wooden dresser, a lumpy, old bed, a nightstand, and a small closet.
How did we. . . get ourselves into this mess?
"Roxas. . . What are we going to do?" Her words were slow, and her voice was choked, making it obvious that she was holding back her tears.
His eyes immediately flickered towards her, noting subconsciously that she was gripping the envelope tightly now and that it was already beginning to tear. "Nami, I—"
She met his gaze, her expression full of hurt, confusion, exasperation. "Roxas, this is the last two hundred fifty dollars that we own. All of it is gone now," she was shaking madly now, quivering in the wooden chair opposite him, "and I don't know how we're going to get anymore." Her voice cracked on the last word, and that was when she broke out into sobs.
And in that instant, Roxas's world crumbled down. The realization set in, the guilt. The anger and frustration.
Instantly he leaned over on the table to grab her trembling hand, and clutched it tightly. His eyes were shining with unshed tears as he spoke, "Don't. . . Don't cry. . ."
She jerked her hand away, dropping the envelope on the wooden table, trembling even more. "I think I have the right to cry! Roxas, you promised everything would be okay! That everything would work out! I believed you. I trusted you. Why. . .?Why. . .?"
Roxas hung his head, his blonde hair drooping and covering his face.
Why. . .?
Why. . .?
Why. . .?
"I wasn't lying to you, Nami. I thought that. . . I thought that it would be okay. But. . . it wasn't. . . And now," he shook his head sadly, not bothering to finish that sentence, "I've been looking for jobs everywhere. Everywhere. But no one's hiring. I think. . . We could mayb—"
Naminé stood up angrily, slamming her hands down on the table, and making Roxas's coffee spill over and onto the floor."Maybe isn't good enough anymore, Roxas!" His eyes widened at her sudden outburst and at her evident anger. Realizing what she had done, she slumped back into her chair, tears streaking down her face uncontrollably. "Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe." Her voice broke again, and she held her face in her hands.
Slowly, Roxas stood up, and walked over to his wife of three years now. He rubbed her back soothingly, before leaning over to hug her, only making her sob all the more. "Maybe. That's what they always said wasn't it? Maybe I could become a first-class artist, the female Pablo Picasso. Maybe you could become the next big thing, a world famous guitarist. . . My parents were right. . . It was only a dream. A stupid dream. And dreams hardly ever become reality. Happy endings only happen in Fairy Tales. . ."
"Dreams aren't stupid, Naminé!" Her watery eyes darted towards him, "They've never stupid! Dreams do become reality. You just hav—"
Naminé stood up out of her chair, almost angrily, and turned to face her husband. "Then why haven't our dreams come true yet, Roxas! ? Look at us. We're both twenty-seven now. We've been trying to make it big for nine fucking years! We've never gotten a break. Let's just face it! I'm never going to become famous, and neither are you! It's time to give up!" Her eyes were scrunched up, her face contorted into one of a sort of furious sadness.
And to that, Roxas had nothing to say. His eyes automatically lost all hope, and it seemed that in a couple of seconds worth of conversation, all of his dreams had been crushed. He instantly turned away from her, and put on his coat.
Naminé's eyes widened at the sudden realization of the meaning of her words, and she struggled to rid herself of her tears and compose a comprehensible sentence. "Roxas, don't go! I'm sorry, I was just. . .I was just thinking out loud, I didn't mean what I sai—"
"You were just telling me the truth. Don't be sorry. It was there the whole time, but I just hadn't realized it yet. . ." Roxas stepped towards the fridge, throwing its door open and pulling out their last bottle of beer.
Naminé stumbled towards him, "No, Roxas! I just. . . I'm just upset. I'm just. . . scared, and confused, and angry, and I—"
"Save it."
With that, Roxas grabbed his guitar case and slammed their door shut, leaving Naminé in a crumpled heap on their kitchen floor, sobbing madly.
The harsh wind of Winter made Roxas cringe as he left the apartment complex. He didn't know where he was going, he didn't know when he'd be back. What he did know was that he needed time to be alone. Time to think.
Snow drifted in the air all around him, covering his hair and making it seem white. He didn't know how long he had been walking, but eventually he came to a stop in what seemed to be the town center. Flowers were all shriveled up around him, and the dark bark of the trees that surrounded him seemed almost menacing. He guessed that it was about five-thirty, or six at most. People bustled around him, pushing past him in a hurry to get where they wanted to go. No one really seemed to care that he had just stopped.
Carefully, Roxas made his way over to a ledge of some sorts, a small brick wall that was laid out in front of a dull, gray building. He wiped the snow off of it and sat down, setting his guitar down on the floor beside his feet, and gulping down the last of his beer.
For a while, he just sat. Perhaps contemplating his predicament, or perhaps just thinking about everything in general. Suddenly, he reached over and pulled out his guitar, not even hesitating to worry about what effects the snow might have on it.
Out of curiosity, a few people had decided to stop, looking at him in wonder. But Roxas hadn't noticed, for his eyes were closed as he felt his guitar. And then he started to sing.
"She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart. . .
While I'm drinking Jack all alone in my local bar,
And we don't know how we got into this mad situation,
Only doing things out of frustration,
Trying to make it work, but, man these times are hard. . .
She needs me now, but I can't seem to find the time. . .
I got a new job now in the unemployment line.
And we don't know how we got into this mess is it God's test?
Someone help us cause we're doing our best,
Trying to make it work, but, man these times are hard. . ."
He still hadn't noticed the small crowd that was beginning to gather around him, for his eyes were still closed and he seemed so focused on singing what he was singing. He hadn't noticed that people were now giving him looks of pity, or that little kids had begun tugging at their parents coats insistently, and pointing at the young man who was singing his heart out on the side of the street.
"But we're gonna stop by drinking old cheap bottles of wine,
Sit talking up all night,
Saying things we haven't for a while. . . a while, yeah,
We're smiling but we're close to tears,
Even after all these years,
We just now, got the feeling, that we're meeting. . . for the first time."
The crowd only seemed to get bigger, and yet Roxas continued to sing unabashed.
"She's in the line at the dole with her head held high,
While I just lost my job but I didn't lose my pride, and we both know how. . .
How we're going to make it work when it hurts,
When you pick yourself up, you get kicked in the dirt.
Trying to make it work, but, man these times are hard. . .
But we're gonna start by drinking old cheap bottles of wine,
Sit talking up all night,
Saying things we haven't for a while. . . a while, yeah
We're smiling but we're close to tears,
Even after all these years,
We just now, got the feeling, that we're meeting. . . for the first time."
Roxas hadn't noticed when a young man took his guitar case, and opened it in front of him, giving people the opportunity to throw in some money which some gladly did.
"For the first time
Oh, for the first time
Yeah, for the first time
We just now, got the feeling, that we're meeting for the first time
Oh, these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me, baby
Oh, these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me, baby
Oh, these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me, baby
Oh, these times are hard, yeah, they're making us crazy
Don't give up on me, baby. . ."
As the crowd that had gathered erupted into a fit of cheers, Roxas finally opened his eyes. More people began throwing money into his guitar case, and only part of him wondered why it was even open to accepting money.
But still. . . accepting money like this. It made him feel wrong. . . Was this even legal?
"T-T-Thank you, but. . . Please. . . You don't have to give me your money. . ."
"What're you talking about? Dude, you gave us your heart and soul in that song. And if what you sang is true, then I think you need the money."
There were several nods and screams of agreement from the small crowd.
Roxas's troubled blue eyes met the blue of the young adult in front of him that had spoken up, not realizing that it was the same person that had opened his guitar case to accept donations in the first place. "I-I don't think I can. . . This doesn't feel right, it's not fair. . . I—"
The brunette in front of him that couldn't be any older than Roxas himself waved his concerns away, and many of the people in the crowd had resumed wandering off, beginning to lose interest. The young man in front of him held Roxas back as he desperately called the crowd back to reclaim the money, but no one came. And once they were all gone, the young man spoke.
"Listen," he had finally let go of Roxas, who was already leaning over his guitar case staring at the money that had been thrown into it guiltily, "I can help you. You definitely have some real talent, and I think that you can maybe make it—"
Instantly, Roxas rest his guitar into the case, and shut it close. "Maybe means a chance, and I don't think I have time to spare anymore chances."
He picked up the case and was about to walk away from the man, but he jumped in front of Roxas, blocking his escape. "Let me finish! I'm Sora Hikari, of Hikari Records!"
Roxas's eyes widened in shock. "Sora. . . Hikari?"
Sora smiled lightly, "Yeah, the one and only. Heir to my father's company, famous for making dreams come true."
"It was only a dream. Just a stupid dream. . ."
Roxas cringed at the memory of Naminé's harsh words, and hung his head as if in thought.
"I can help you. Even if you don't make it big, you don't seem like the type of guy that deserves to be in such a. . . predicament."
Roxas looked at him, a slightly skeptical expression on his face. "I don't. . .I don't know. I have. . . ."
"Look at us. We're both twenty-seven now. We've been trying to make it big for nine fucking years! We've never gotten a break. Let's just face it! I'm never going to become famous, and neither are you! It's time to give up!"
He flinched at the memory of the words, "I just. . . I've spent my entire life trying to make this dream of mine a reality. . . If this doesn't work, then I shouldn't spend more time on it. I have to face the truth. . . I have to stop living in my dream world, and face my reality."
Sora nodded slowly, his expression one that expressed sympathy. "But for every dream to become a reality, hundreds of chances need to be taken. If you never try, then you'll never know for the rest of your life."
Roxas nodded slowly, before dropping his guitar case onto the floor, and throwing his head into his hands, finally losing all the composure he had managed to keep when he was talking to Naminé. Who was he kidding? He was scared, terrified, petrified at the mere thought of what might happen to them in the future. He was an orphan, and Naminé's parents hated him because they were rich and wanted their daughter to marry a more influential man. The only family he ever really had was Naminé, and now he couldn't even care for her? He would die if anything was to happen to her.
He was guilty, at fault, in the wrong for everything. Was it his right to encourage both himself and Naminé to follow their dreams, no matter how unrealistic they seemed to her parents? Was it okay for him to promise her the world, even if all he had to his name were the clothes on his back, and a couple hundred dollars to his name?
He was angry, frustrated, mad at the world. What had he and Naminé ever done that was so wrong that they had been forced into this mess? Why is it, that even though they had devoted their very lives, their very souls into what they loved to do, that they still hadn't made it? Was fate really just that cruel?
Slowly, a warm hand place itself on his shoulder, and Roxas struggled to regain his composure, but to no avail. Sora's kind eyes seemed to bore into Roxas, but in a strange, comforting way. "Hey. . . don't worry about it, alright?"
He stuck his hand out, as if waiting for a shake of some sort from Roxas, and after wiping away his tears, Roxas shook his hand. Shocking enough, Sora slipped something into his hand, before smiling and walking away.
Eyes wide and still puffy, Roxas looked down at the paper crumpled inside his hand. He smoothed it out, surprised to find that it was more than just one piece of paper. It seemed to be ten. Perplexed, he began to read it, the rays of the setting sun the only light he had.
It seemed to be ten hundred dollar bills. And on one of them read the following:
Never give up your dreams, no matter what anyone says.
I know you need this, and I hope everything works out for you.
If you ever need help, call me. 830-537-2143
-Sora
And slowly, Roxas smiled.
A Wishful Thought (A Note From The Author)- Wow. I wish I could've thrown in more character development or just something because it seems so rushed. Well, I admit that it kind of was. I wrote this in an hour, because I'm supposed to be doing a project. XP
For anyone who's wondering, Sora scribbled the message on one of the dollar bills while Roxas was crying and thinking.
And don't be mad at Nami! D:
I was hoping to make it obvious that she merely represented the song lyric: "Only doing things out of frustration" Basically, she was just angry at the world, and the words just came out, with her not realizing what she was saying. Don't lie, we've all done something like that before. I think. ;)
Anyway, please review. This is my first oneshot. . . and songfic. XD