Quick AN: This was originally planned to be a Roxiri. But nobody (for what reason I know not) supports that.. So it became this. Please leave sometime of review. So I at least know if it's WANTED for it to be updated.
IMPORTANT: The story will alternate between Roxas's and Namine's POV. This chapter. Namine.
Chapter One: How We Used To Be
I remember when we were kids, six or so, we would go to the playground together, and we'd pretend like the large elevated area of land was the ocean. And we were pirates.
He wasn't a very good pirate. I don't think he really understood he was supposed to be trying to sink my ship, he never fired his cannons. And I would always steal his treasure without any trouble, a pack of crayons with all blue crayons. So after a few weeks of utter defeat, he asked to join my crew. Of course, me being the always victor of the seas, had the swings and the area of mulch around it as my ship, and he was tired of his seesaw area.
After that, we joined together to defeat all the other kids that came to the playground. While he wasn't keen on "firing cannons" and "raiding the other's ships", He was a very good lookout.
Of course, this didn't last forever. He soon lost interest in being a pirate. And soon, our crew of two slowly started to divide.
He was still my neighbor, and occasionally I would see his blond head running across our front lawn to the boy next door. I figured he just didn't want to play with a girl anymore. Still, it felt bad losing my first and only crew member.
HWUTB
When we were 13, he started to show up at my doorstep again. Then, he only wanted help in his pre-Algebra class, and his mom had made him come here, to the "sweet girl next door". He didn't really seem too happy when he sat at our dining table. He slammed the book onto the wooden table and flipped open his notebook, placing a pencil in his mouth.
"What do you need help with?" I remember pushing my hair back, leaning forward to get a good look at him. He was different. Really different. This wasn't my playmate anymore.
"I don't get it." His eyebrows went towards each other in confusion, "any of it."
Smiling, I nodded. "I know it's hard stuff right?" He nodded. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I can't do it either."
He sighed and slid back in his chair. "Then what am I doing over here?" I'm sure he hadn't meant to say it as loud as he had, because when I inhaled, he looked away.
His mom had come over earlier that week to ask if I could help him. I don't see how she thought I would be able to help him; I'm a grade behind him. Shows how much parents remember. Regardless I agreed, excited to be able to spend time with him again, even if it was tutoring a subject I knew nothing about.
I saw him at school. A lot. In the hallways, and sometimes at lunch, but he would never even acknowledge me. It was like those first six years of our lives had meant nothing to him. Maybe it was because he was older than me. But that wouldn't explain why his friends would talk to me, but never him. Never. I was very conflicted at that age.
There was silence between us. He stared at the clock, and I stared at his books. It was awkward. I began feeling it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
"Do you have any games?"
I looked up, he was staring at me, his blue eyes locked with mine. I shook my head and he sighed. "Um, we have playing cards?"
His face lit up. "Cool, let's B.S it."
Being the sweet, sheltered child that I was then, had never heard or played the game of "Bull Shit" or as he kindly put it, B.S.. But I still got up to get the cards. I came back, and he had cleared the table of his books and was beside me as I sat.
He took the cards and began shuffling them. I watched as he then began dealing out all of the cards. He then taught me the ways of playing B.S.
I didn't really care for the game, he was winning every round. He could tell when I was lying. He said I wouldn't look him in the eyes. I don't know why I couldn't. I loved his eyes.
He left an hour later. He didn't come back. I knew he wouldn't.
HWUTB
By the time we we're both sophomores in high school, he was actually talking to me, approaching me in the hallways. It was weird, sitting with his friends. He wouldn't talk to me then, he invited me over, but he ignored me. After a couple of times, I went to leave in the middle of lunch, and he stopped me.
The first argument. Over something stupid. It didn't make sense to me then, nor does it now. He never told me why he asked me to stay.
We didn't speak to each other for another year. We were seniors. And we had AP Chemistry. I don't know how he got into AP. He didn't seem too advanced. Lab partners. A mutual relationship. At least that's what I wanted it to be.
I didn't like him then. I heard things, rumors, and saw the way he acted and treated people. He was, an ass, to put it nicely.
We were at our station, and he was messing with the Bunsen burner, trying to light it. I took the matches, sitting them to the side and glaring at him.
"High standards. Twilight University." He was mocking me.
I frowned, putting down the beaker I held to turn to him. "And where are you going after high school?"
He smiled, a toothless grin, and shrugged. "Sky's the limit, right?"
I didn't know what to say. So I didn't say anything. I turned away, and did the experiment on my own, with him hovering over my shoulder, correcting my mistakes.
HWUTB
It wasn't long before I began, spending time with him more. Not for social reasons, but because he knew the answers to our labs, and wouldn't help in school. So I had to spend days, after school, riding in his truck, while he preached and gave answers.
He was different from the boy on the playground. He was weird. He would leave notes in my notebook, telling me when he'd pick me up or what time he'd be leaving the school parking lot. I learned a lot about him though, in that truck.
He didn't want to go to college. He said he didn't have to. He said the only reason he would ever go to Twilight would be for their world famous ice cream. He loved dogs more than he did cats. He liked it cold more than he did it being hot. He said it was because you could only strip so much off when it was hot, but for cold weather you could always bundle. He didn't like the color of his truck, a bland white, and that he wanted to have it spray painted something bright, like a hot pink, he said, but he never did. That I know of. His favorite band, was the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. And that was all he ever blasted in his truck. He loved the jungle gym at the park, he said it was the only cage he could escape from. And he hated the people in our school that would only talk to me because I "looked cool". He said he didn't know who got to decide who was cool and who wasn't. Or who looked cool and who didn't. But he was sure they were idiots. He said I wasn't cool. I was amazing. Hook, line, and sinker.
But I was completely different. I tried in school. I wanted to go to university. And I liked that his truck was white, and I hated being cold. I liked being liked. And I loved the swings because they could get my feet of the ground, and closer to the sky, but not far enough away to where if I fell, I would get hurt. Badly. But he was my sky, and I was too high up. Unsafe. I didn't want to ruin my future for him.
Even on a list of what is wrong, he would be right. He found error in everything I did. Trying, pushing myself in school. He said I was crazy for not living. And when I told him I was, he laughed.
He once said that, even though there is truth to the saying, "You can't judge a book by its cover", but most of the time you could. And that's all we were. Covers. We didn't have pages, words, sentences and paragraphs. We were empty. I hated not knowing what he was talking about. He read me like a book, yet I couldn't even understand what he said to me when he spoke and repeated what he was saying.
Not soon enough though, senior year was coming to a close, graduation. I was nervous. I'd be leaving after summer, and I'd be leaving him. He was set on staying there, on that island. Even though he hated the hot weather. Even though he hated those people. Part of me wanted to stay too. But the other part, decided, he was right. The sky is the limit. And I wanted to reach a different sky, a safer one. My sky was the future.
This was an intro of sorts. (I also just noticed, that I didn't use their names at all. But I seem to write better, when I'm not trying to fit into a character's shoes.) It was going to be a oneshot, but there was so much I wanted to add. That I couldn't do in her point of view. And for the curious, I got this idea from the song "Set the Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol. Somewhat. And then it morphed. Slightly. Regardless. Please leave a review. If you don't, that's understandable, and I hold no resent. But...Roxas. The blonde neighbor. Well. If you can guess who he's taken after. Cookies rewarded. Keywords for that, would be the title, and the Bunsen burner.