AN: Hey everyone! I'm not dead! Just wanted to say I've been working on the first few chapters of this story for a while now and I've been dying to post it.

I was inspired to write this after I read Paradise Avenger's fan fictions on Archive of Our Own. I suggest you go check her out, her stories are waaay better than mine and they're very moving too!

Anyway, please enjoy! :)

-End Authors Note-

The young girl sat on the bottom of stairsteps of the school, drawing in a sketch pad. Her hair was swept onto her shoulder, and her innocent blue eyes stared intently down at the paper her hands worked furiously on. Had she been any paler, you'd think her porcelain skin would have been part of the paper. Her sweater and skirt was roughed by the wind, and her hair waved in little tendrils.

16 year old Namine Gainsborough was always a spacey child, always getting distracted by a good book or her sketchpad when she was really supposed to be paying attention in class. This often got her in trouble, and in order to remedy this each teacher let her out early at the end of class, as long as there wasn't a lecture and Namine's grades were good, all at the request of her parents.

Namine grew out of her spacey-ness around the age of 13, but the teachers still let her get away with it, whether out of pity, or they just thought it was still necessary. Namine cherished this time to draw and think about past events, especially at the end of the school day. It was the last time during the day she could think before going home, to that place she didn't necessarily think of as "home".

The school bells rang inside the building behind her, and Namine let out a long sigh. The end of the day. She made no move to get up, the other students would always filter around her, leaving her unnoticed. All the other students except for one.

A boy with a large black bag slung over his shoulder pushed out of the school doors, shouldering his way past people, his wild golden hair springing up and down as he bounced down the steps. He slipped down to the bottom stair and stood beside Namine looking down at her, his mouth drawn in a wide smile and his honest blue eyes, similar to Namine's, gazing down at her. Namine looked up at him as he bent down to her level, hands resting on his knees.

"Hey Nami!" He said cheerfully.

"Hi Roxas," She said with a smile.

Roxas straightened up and stretched out a hand to Namine. She gingerly took it and Roxas helped her up before gently pulling her in for a hug. Roxas and Namine were close, and anyone would have thought they were a couple if they took the time to notice. It was more complicated than that though. Roxas loved her and would do anything for her, and Namine very well knew that, but Namine really didn't express love back. Namine was unsure of herself, unsure if she could be able to love Roxas back. Roxas understood, and though it hurt at first, Roxas continued to love her and wouldn't press too far to keep her comfortable.

However, that's all Roxas knew. The real truth was that Namine was silently being kept prisoner by her father. Namine's father was a greedy bastard and had shown up to poke his nose around after her mother's death. He had pulled her from the home and step-father she had come to love. She wound up in a new life she didn't want.

"Namine, you can let go of me now..." Roxas said.

Namine looked up into his face. She really did love him, but she didn't think she could tell him the real reason why she couldn't be with him. She slowly let go of him and backed away.

"Are you alright?" Roxas asked, his face quickly turning to concern.

Namine's face looked blank and almost sorrowful. She blinked a few times and that face was gone.

"Y-yeah I'm fine." Namine said, biting her lip.

Roxas gave her a scrutinizing look.

"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" He said more as a statement rather than a question.

Namine bit her lip even harder and held back tears.

It had happened a little over two years ago. Namine's mother, Aerith, had been slain viciously by Heartless. It was a regular day, Namine was upstairs drawing at her desk when she heard the shatter of glass and her mother's sickening scream. Namine had rushed to see what was going on, but her mother was already gone, her heart devoured and her body somewhat mangled by the onslaught of the Heartless. Sure, there had only been a few, but even a few are dangerous for an unsuspecting person. If it wasn't for Zack Fair, Namine's step father, Namine would have been killed as well. Zack had managed to fend the Heartless off, and sustained minor injuries.

Shortly after, Roxas, his brother Sora, their friend Riku, and a few others from their home were called on by Disney Castle to combat the darkness with the King, Mickey. This pretty much left Namine alone on the islands, with her only comforts being her step father and her friends.

Then, to make matters worse, a few weeks after all of that had gone down, Namine's real father suddenly had shown up. He started demanding money from the life insurance and custody over Namine since he was her "last remaining parent." After a long court case, Namine's biological father was awarded custody over Namine, and Namine found herself being carted away to the home of a complete stranger in her eyes. The last time she had saw this man was when she was three. It had been ten years since their last meeting at that time.

"Namine, Hurry up!" A man called from a nearby car. A blond man with icy blue eyes stared at Namine . Her father.

"I'll see you later." Roxas said with a sad smile.

Namine nodded and gathered up her stuff. She walked to the car and looked back to see Roxas talking...er tussling with Sora.

Namine opened the back of the car and threw her stuff down on the seat before climbing in. They drove off, the blond man saying nothing.

Her father's name was Erexander Willowgrove. It was a weird, outlandish name but he had apparently lived there on the islands all his life. He had light hair much like Namine's but his eyes were a bright, icy blue several shades lighter than Namine's own. He was a skinny man, with a short, hooked nose. He wore a plain white t-shirt and some torn up jeans. He looked more teen than man.

Namine gazed out the window as the scenery ran past.