Author's Notes: If you're not coming over from Candy Hearts, you'll probably not understand the context of this fic. That's not to say that you can't read this by itself; I'll try to get enough exposition in here. But you'll probably think this is totally stupid (not to mention completely out of character!) if you don't know how these characters got here, why they behave the way they do, and why Naminé is so fucking ridiculous. Not to shamelessly whore my other fic or anything, but I hope you do go and read it. It's not much of a tale, but I'm sort of attached to it.

About the title…well, it's not really an attempt at being clever. Just like there was significance in Candy Hearts, there's significance here. Telling you what it is would probably give away the core of the entire story, so I won't, but it's pretty easy to figure out. (Also, it kind of sounds like a band, which makes me laugh.) Continuing with the trend set in Candy Hearts, chapter titles will either be song titles or lyrics, but again won't have much to do with the chapters themselves – they'll just set a mood. Relevance, not influence. This chapter length is also a little shorter than they'll be; I want to continue with the Candy Hearts style as much as possible, so consider this a prologue. Updates will also be much slower; I'm in college now, I'm still working on that retarded Roxas/Axel chapter fic, and I'm also in the middle of revising a novel. Please bear with me.

This fic is absolutely fraught with Disney references. Since they're on a road trip, I'm seriously fleshing out the world they live in; everything is either Disney or Kingdom Hearts related, partly because I love Disney but mostly because I'm completely ignorant about Final Fantasy. I don't own any of the things I reference, use, abuse, or slaughter; I'm just kidnapping them. Don't expect them to return in the same condition.

I can't even begin to understand why I am where I am now: alone in a dubious motel, inexplicably freezing my ass off in curtainless, semen-soaked Room 103 and wondering why the fuck I couldn't have kept my stupid mouth shut.

I'm pretty sure Larxene hates me now – I mean, even more than she did already – and I'm also pretty sure she's living it up in some five-star hotel, if she's not already on her way out of Go City.

It was a mistake to come here, even when we were getting on like a house on fire. On paper, this place is like a modern Utopia with the exception of a shitty selection at Bueno Nacho, but of course things that look too good to be true usually are. Go City is clean, except the places you don't see. The police force kicks ass, but what they don't say in the brochure is that there's so much major crime here that the little people get ignored. Or stomped on.

I bet if a murderer came in through the window right now, nobody would even bother to wonder who was screaming. Not when some douchebag just robbed six banks and almost killed the chief of police. Besides, this place is so sleazy they'd probably think I was playing some kind of sex game.

Totally plausible. If it was Larxene, and not a murderer. Well, okay, not even then; she says she loves me, but she won't even touch me unless she's angry. I'd psychoanalyze her, but then I'd get all anxious about my own self-worth and when we left Traverse Town I promised myself I would stop doing that.

Merde.

I guess this whole thing stems from Marluxia, and the car crash, and that day in the old house when she beat me up and then kissed me so much I forgot what oxygen was. I'm still really touchy and she's trying to pretend he never existed and sometimes, a little traitorous part of me wishes he were here because I still love him. I think she knows that, and that's why she's so on edge; she's losing me to a dead man and there isn't even anything to lose and what did I say about self-analysis, Naminé?

Jesus Christ on a stick. Even when I'm scared out of my wits I have time to find ten different reasons why I don't deserve her. It's no wonder she believes it too.

What am I going to say tomorrow?

This is how it's probably going to go down: Larxene's going to text me and give me an address, and I'll show up. She'll apologize but she won't mean it, I'll forgive her and I won't mean it, we'll get in her van and find some awesome local attraction to give us something to focus on, and we'll pretend this never happened. I never spent the night here. I won't talk about it.

It's not that she values my silence, per se. She's always asking me what I'm thinking, asking for my opinions. I think it's partly so she can laugh at me, but also because Marluxia valued my opinion, and so somehow that means she has to value it too. I don't know. I shouldn't be thinking about this. Every time I go over what I've done wrong, it just gets all mixed up and muddled in my head. I told her she was beautiful. That any man would be nuts to refuse her. Is she mad because I'm not a man or something? Does she think...what even goes through her head? It's a fucking tornado. I don't get how complimenting her like that, especially because that guy said all those derogatory things about her, would make her mad. Maybe she's just sick of me. I get sick of me too, sometimes; I wish I could banish myself to some sleazy Go City motel.

...Never mind. Nobody deserves this. Goddamn, you could probably catch an STD just by looking at this bed. No matter how hard I think about Larxene, I can't get the gross feeling to go away. I'd take a shower, but I have a feeling it's seen more than the bed has.

Maybe I should just go to Bueno Nacho. They're open all night, and I don't think I've eaten since last night anyway. We went to Chez Couteau in Middleton and it was the first time in a week that she looked at me without some snarky or degrading comment. I was so embarrassed to feel good just because I was dressed up in this pink getup which would have looked much better on –

Kairi's another sore point between us. I'll never get over her. Even Marluxia can't stand up to her. It's not that Larxene's third string or anything, but I don't know if that's because Kairi and Marluxia are dead or because she's beautiful and smart and sexy and just…amazing.

I wish I could tell her that without fucking it up. It might solve a lot of problems. Instead, I constantly lose control of my mouth and stupidity comes pouring out, as per usual. The difference now is, if I don't control myself, I'll lose someone – not to death, or on purpose, but because I'm completely ridiculous.

I want Zexion. He'd tell me what to do. But I can't bother him with my neurotic messes right now; that issue with Darla is still going strong, and I was fucking naïve to think that it'd just go away because she's a lying whore. So was he, when I think about it. I always forget he's only twenty-six. The perfect age for the death of idealism. I don't know how I know this, because I only turned twenty-four yesterday, but sometimes it's like I'm ageless. I just…see. I'd be all dramatic and call it a burden, but it'd be too close to the truth.

I don't like telling the truth. It makes me feel slimy. Funny how I value honesty, but only from bad liars.

You know what? Fuck this. I don't have to deal with this shit. I'm not in Traverse Town anymore. I'm not trapped anymore. I made the decision to come here, I made the decision to travel with Larxene, and I'm not in the mood to fall to pieces. Tomorrow she's probably going to do the same thing she's done three times in the past two weeks. Even if she doesn't, there's no point in agonizing until there's something to agonize about.

I won't let that happen. Agony is for people who don't have any control, but I do.

I hate being left behind, but somehow, I've managed every single time. She may hate me, and I may not feel the same way about her that I did two weeks ago, but whatthefuckever. I'm going to follow Marluxia's advice and feed myself, track down Larxene's hotel somehow, and crawl into bed with her whether she likes it or not.

Something has to give and for once in my pathetic, miserable life, it's not going to be me.