A/N: Eh. Just a random one-shot centering on N and White. This is an AU and the setting is pretty much modern/present-day, so there isn't any mention of Pokemon or anything of the like.
It is implied that N was abused as a child, but there is nothing graphic or explicit. So I guess the T rating is for that—but only because I'm paranoid.
White is pretty much a random girl looking for an escape from reality; I was thinking something along the lines of "loner girl who is sick of people being so prejudicial and judgmental goes to the carnival almost every night to escape from it all and all that jazz".
When I was thinking up this story, it looked so much better inside my head. Seriously.
It is pitch black.
Then slowly, one by one, bright, iridescent glimmers appear in the distance; they are wondrous, brilliant colors-colors that range from the basic shades to ones that can only be seen in fanciful fairytale worlds, the kinds that could take a person's breath away with their beauty.
The loud hum of whirring machines, the shouts of laughter and the cheerful chatter of the crowds, the playful carnival tunes echoing in the air—this is where their story starts.
It's not exactly a fairytale; but it's the best that anyone can hope for.
She arrives in all her glory, decked in black and white, and a pretty little smile on her face. No one notices her come, for they are all too self-absorbed in their own worlds to care, and so she glides into the crowd with a practiced ease.
Ambling through the bustling paths of vendors, stalls, tents, and people, she bobs her head to an imaginary tune, singing a melody with no name to it. Her routine is the same, visit the same stalls, ride the same rides, and walk the same destined path that she walks every night.
But then, in that instant, as she is about to duck under the tent flaps to see the nightly performance of acrobats, magicians, and flames, fate decides to take a sharp twist off its path. And suddenly she is careening head first into the chest of a boy with prettier hair than her own.
"I'm N."
She doesn't give him a funny look like most others do; instead she throws her quirky little grin at him and says:
"I'm White."
And he can't help but think that she's definitely something special.
"Achieving your dream or falling in love?"
"Achieving my dream."
A burst of laughter. "What, you afraid of finding true love?"
A sheepish smile. "Not really; I just really believe in it, that's all."
And from that moment on, she decides to prove him wrong.
He watches her with an interested look as she scopes out their surroundings. Her hand flings out in a random direction, pointing to some unknown object; he turns to where she is pointing.
"How about that girl?"
He sighs. "I don't really think this is a good idea-
"Ooh! Maybe that girl?" She glances up at him with a calculating look. "Nah, never mind her; you don't really seem to be into big, busty girls. So I'm guessing you go for the tall, model thin ones?"
"Like I said, I don't really care for these kinds of things-
She gives him a mighty glare that leaves him trembling in a little bit of fear, awe, and pretty much everything else. It's a rather exhilarating feeling if he must admit to himself. "Well everybody's got to fall in love at least once in their life! It's an obligatory experience; kind of like the experience of learning how to ride a bike or camping out in your back yard in the height of summer with all your friends or...or even getting potty trained!"
Skeptical, he folded his arms and tilted his head. "Getting potty trained?" he echoed.
"Well practically everybody's done that before, haven't they?"
He acquiesced. "That's true."
A smile is thrown his way and he takes hold of it like a life line.
She drags him into a house of mirrors later that night. Dainty little hands pull at his sleeves and in front of him is White who is giggling uncontrollably at something he had said—he doesn't really know why she's laughing though.
So he lets her pull him into the darkness ahead of them and suddenly finds himself completely and utterly alone in a room filled with nothing but his own reflections. And he absolutely hates it.
A tight clenching sensations grips around his heart and he lets out a strangled gasp; he knows that he's hyperventilating, but he can't really help himself. There is a sense of claustrophobia, a feeling of the walls surrounding closing in on him, a terrible drowning sensation.
He gets a sudden flash of a towering man with a hateful, red gaze boring into his heart.
He remembers his childish wails filling the white, white room. He remembers the harsh grip of his father's hands. He remembers being pushed back into a small, dark room filled with nothing but terror and emptiness. He remembers begging for forgiveness—for what, he cannot ever remember. He remembers, he remembers, he remembers.
Something grasps his arm and pulls him upwards so that he is standing albeit uneasily on his own two feet. His hands reach out to grapple for purchase of a sense of balance and suddenly finds warm, soft hands intertwining with his own.
"You okay?" comes a breathless voice.
"Not really," he lets out weakly with shaky breaths.
A small reassuring squeeze on his hand and then a small breath of laughter whispers in his ears.
"Don't worry; I've got you—and I won't let go of you this time around."
It's a promise that he's willing to bet on—and by the end of it all, he finds himself stumbling out of the mirror house, drunk on laughter with the girl with the pretty smiles by his side.
She kept her promise and he won the world.
"We should do something awesome," she declares as their time together draws to a close, "Something amazing; when we look back on this night, that thing should be the first memory that comes to mind."
Side by side they walk through the diminishing crowds, searching for that amazing something.
"I could try to win you a bear or something," he offered.
She waves her hand at him, dismissing the idea. "Nah, you wouldn't be able to win even if you tried—the game stalls here are all rigged."
"Well we've done practically everything we could do here," he said. "I don't think that there's—
There is a squeal of uncontrollable excitement, and suddenly he finds himself being pulled towards a large landmark in the distance, struggling to keep up with the smaller girl's quick and impatient pace.
"Close your eyes and make a wish," she whispers, the lights from the top rim of the ferris wheel bathing her round face in a halo of white light. "We can pretend that the fireworks are shooting stars."
As she says this, the car slowly reaches its spot at the peak of the ferris wheel, its momentum slowing down until it finally comes to a halting stop. They feel the slow, rocking motion of the ride sway to a slow rhythm.
His eyes slowly drift closed and he hears himself asking, "What are you wishing for?"
"This."
A strange soft pressure touches his lips and he snaps his eyes open to see her kissing him with her own eyes wide open. His heart thuds to an imaginary rhythm in his head and ears—and he wonders if she can hear it, too. The girl with the pretty smile and musical laughter pulls away from him and asks:
"What did you wish for?"
He wonders to himself if it would be okay to change his wish, right then and there.
"Nothing really," he lets out with a shy smile.
And he thinks he might be falling for her—if only for a little while. And that's perfectly fine with him.