And she's his Cinderella.
Heels tapping lightly on the tiled flooring, clear slippers that reflect their surroundings – the footwear of others, more precisely; a "pouffy", as she described it herself, blue dress sashaying, making whispering sounds – ssh, ssh – of its want for quiet. There is a small tiara topping her flaxen hair; fake jewels encrusted into the plastic, shiny blues and sparkling whites that are so cloudy it seems like you're trapped in the sky, blinded.
A bracelet that hardly fits around her wrist, too large for her, bouncing around and making tapping noises as the charms hit against the other. The charms – one, a miniature crown, colored silver; another, a cross tilted sideways with pointed tips, sharp to the touch. If the bracelet was ever brought near her eyes, it would reflect the pure blue color, bemused as to why she had to dress up this way, afraid – but most of all, happy.
Happy because there was her Prince Charming, appearing just as confused, but smiling nonetheless because he hated letting others know what he thought.
And when he noticed her, his whole face lit up – it was as if she was more to him than simply a friend, a best friend who wanted to be more. She stood quietly, no longer desiring to be there, not wanting to create even more of an entrance; she'd already embarrassed herself enough, which explained the flaming red quickly taking up all residence on her face.
But what happened had already happened, and by now there was no taking it back. And when he took her hand, his skin was as soft as the smile on his face – and there was no more Cinderella and Prince Charming, but Naminé and Roxas. Even if they're not meant to be more than best friends, because they both want to know each other in a completely different way, and they can't change fate or destiny, this is much more intimate than it should be.
She's tripping over his feet and isn't sure of where to place her hands, but it's likewise. They're two fools who might as well be strangers, not at all loquacious. And his lips lower down onto hers – a first kiss for them both, but it isn't beautiful or romantic and neither of them enjoy it. It's awkward and weird and just plain … just plain … There aren't any more words to describe it.
Then after the dance, mostly a lot of falling and cursing, they both separate. And they go back to how they always were before. Friends, the best of friends.
And she's no longer his Cinderella, but his Sleeping Beauty who never awakes.