white.

naminé

( fill in the blanks )

disclaimer: not mine.


Sometimes, when all's quiet and she's sure no one's watching, she pushes her crayons and papers away from herself, sits back in her chair, closes her eyes and places her tiny hand over her chest, her fingertips just barely brushing her collarbone.

And she allows herself to dream that she has a heart.

She imagines that it would probably be thump-thump-thumping under the light pressure of her palm, and that it would thump-thump faster if she was scared or excited, and it would probably stop thump-thumping if she were to die.

(except she can't die, because to die you have to be alive in the first place.)

Her life is so white. It's light and it's dark, which doesn't make sense, but she doesn't make sense, because she's alive but she's not, she's there but she's not, she's Nobody.

(but she thinks she might be somebody, too.)

It makes sense and it doesn't, all at once.

White walls. White furniture. White dress. White skin. White paper.

White.

She likes to draw, because she can take that blankpurewhite sheet of paper and splash it with color, mar its perfect surface in swirls and strokes of red and blue and green and yellow and not white.

(because white is too perfect, and she's pretty sure that she's far from it.)

She hopeswishesdreams that she's more than just Sora&Kairi.

(deepdeep down inside, she knows that she isn't.)

The white glares back at her, blinding and bright, and she sighs. She drags her chair closer to the table, reaches for her paper and crayons, and begins work again.

She picks a red crayon and slashes a thick, harsh line across the untarnished sheet. She does the same with a yellow crayon (for Roxas' hair), a black one (for the Organization coats), another that's the color of an emerald (Axel's eyes).

As she draws, she supposes that she hates the color white because it is the color of nothingness.

(but then, she is a Nobody, so perhaps it is fitting after all.)