As this will likely be the last author note in this story, I'd like to address a few things. First: yes, all of the chapter titles are either song titles or phrases taken from songs. But the song usually doesn't fit the chapter, so...don't read too much into it. The titles are only supposed to supply imagery. Second: I won't apologize for anything in here. This isn't meant to be 'correct' or 'nice.' Third: Justine won't be a main character. She's a plot device. Last: the chapters are rather short, I know. I decided to split them into pieces, because I want certain phrases to stand out more than others and if they're mashed up in the middle that's less likely to happen.

Onward, ho.


It's raining again.

Traverse Town would be famous for its rain, if people knew about it. I swear, all the fucking time...it lets up for an hour or so and then BAM. Today it's so bad the gutters are sludging like arteries. I don't know what's worse – watching the leaves and shit float down the streets like little fat globules or watching the girl in the booth across from me.

Fucking Justine.

I haven't seen Marluxia since he seated us. I don't know why he seated us, since he owns the place – I think, anyway – but I'd thought, you know, he'd at least say more than hello and here's a fucking menu. Maybe he hates me now. Probably. I'm easy to hate.

I'm shaking and I can barely speak. Something about this place...I don't know, but it sucks. It just sucks. I know I probably look like I'm scared or something, because Justine isn't really saying much, just looking at me. Hallelujah. An entire two minutes. It's gotta be a record.

Still, the price is too high. I wish I had more control over my own body.

I remember when Marluxia and I pulled off that 'heist.' He said my body and my voice were perfect – I always look scared and fragile, even though I'm not scared and it's not like I'll break if someone hits me. Maybe my nose. But that's not the point.

It's this. This...shaking thing. I lose my voice or I sound like I'm about to cry, and my hands find my mouth whether I want it or not. I remember, I stood out there for a whole eleven minutes, scared of the men who chased me. Bah. Marluxia was in the back jacking all their snowglobes. I don't even remember why we did that. Stupid little memory globes...I think we were going to put photoshopped pictures in them and leave them for people to find. Like little storybooks.

We were stupid kids.

The poor shopkeepers didn't know anything.

We were still stupid kids.

"I'm Olette, and I'll be your server this-"

"Well, fuck me sideways," I say, before I can stop myself. Whoops. Gotta remember to change the filter soon. You just don't say stuff like that in situations like this.

To her credit, she doesn't even look a bit pained. "Naminé?"

"I...yes." Annnd, here we go again. I'm not quiet because I have nothing to say; I'm quiet because my voice is so ridiculous. Even my voice is like a waterfall, all shaky and wet and shiny. I sometimes forget what I'm saying, too, so I'll slow down my sentences and I sound like I'm trying not to cry.

"Aww, how've you been?"

True story: Olette comes from Twilight Town. She was a real hot topic for a while – nobody ever comes to Traverse Town, and you never meet anyone from Traverse Town. They lovingly call this place the World that Never Was, and its denizens, Nobodies. I ever get the chance to meet the guy who made that up, I'll kill him.

Well. Maybe just glare in an annoyed fashion. I'm not really the murdering type, even though sometimes I'd like to be. With my luck, I'll look hurt anyway. I hate my body.

Hey, maybe I am scared of everything. It would explain why I always look ten times smaller than I really am. It would also explain the curling posture and the voice and the shaking.

But wait. It wouldn't explain the crazy.

Never mind.

"I'm doing well," I tell her, lifting my voice a little. When I'm like shouting, there's less water in my voice. "And you?"

I don't even want to talk to her. I never liked her. She spent too much time with my Roxas. Plus, she's one of those cute girls with bracelets and beads. I never saw the attraction, and it was hell trying to fit in. Now it's just hell trying to make people go away. I'm not intimidating.

In fact, I'm kind of pathetic.

"Just...trying to get by," she admits, fiddling with the pen in her hand. "Going to school, working, taking care of my baby cousin. This is the best job I've had in a while – Marluxia's been an absolute godsend."

...What the hell is he feeding these poor people? Crack? Last time we saw each other, people would only use 'god' and 'Marluxia' in the same sentence if that sentence was thank god he's eighteen now – we can try him as an adult.

Whatever. It's not my problem.

"Speaking of jobs," she says quickly. She looks a bit embarrassed. Probably because she was chatting instead of taking our orders – not that I'm actually hungry, but whatever. "Is there anything I can get for you right off the bat?"

"No thank you...just water."

Justine looks at me like I'm stupid again. Oh, yeah – I just made fun of her for 'watching her figure.' Not that she knew I was making fun of her, but the fact remains, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's making self-conscious girls self-conscious. Shit. "I mean, I'm still deciding."

She looks so relieved she could pass out. I should be nominated for fucking sainthood.

Olette turns, completely unaffected by the subliminal exchange. "And for you, Justine?" Is it just my imagination, or does Olette's smile look very fixed now? Sweet. I guess nobody likes Justine very much. That's good. I was feeling bad. Now I know I'm not hallucinating – she really is just revolting.

I kinda feel the world breathing and I know I won't be eating tonight. I'll feel it all sliding through my body like a fat, slimy nightcrawler and the goddamn earth breaths will make me throw up. And...fuck, Justine just ordered some kind of spaghetti. Two hundred calories, my ass. Now I'm thinking about worms and she's going to eat spaghetti. Fucking hell.

The smells. They'll kill me. This Justine will be the end of me, swear to god. Seeing my dad happy with her mother is not worth this. But I probably won't say anything, because it'll just sound stupid. Hey, Dad, your girlfriend's daughter makes me sick, so can you ditch the whole idea? Yeah, that'll go down real well. And I really do want to see him happy...

Fucking Justine. She's just as irritating today as she was last time we met – though, I didn't know her name then, and I can't even remember what she looked like, unless she really did look like what I don't think she did anymore. Whoa, I just confused myself.

"You know," she says once Olette's gone to get our drinks. She leans over the table and lowers her voice. "The food here is heavenly. I hear everything on the menu comes straight from Marluxia's head. He's so good with his hands." I hope she chokes on that goddamn double entendre.

But I smile anyway. "I'm not surprised. He's a plant person at heart-" yeah, if he had one. "-and he cooks with the stuff he grows. At least...that's how he used to do it. He always tried to feed me, but I'm sure he put arsenic in it or something. So I've never actually tasted anything of his."

She frowns. "Did you hate him or something?"

I cover my mouth when I laugh, so the waterfall doesn't escape. That would be embarrassing. And I know she'd never forget it. "No, of course not. He was my best friend."

"But why would he want to poison his best friend?"

"You obviously don't know Marluxia as well as you'd like to," says someone to my left. Ooh, goodie. I'm going to be dreaming about her voice for weeks. She still looks sexy and dangerous, which is nice, because I hate it when I hallucinate.

Justine goes pale. This chick is stealing my heart, swear to god.

"I suppose, though we've already met formally, I should say it's nice to meet you," I tell Larxene.

"Why?"

"Because..." I glance at my other companion, who seems to be choking on something. "I didn't say much?"

Fuck it. My voice is so retarded. Hopefully Marluxia told her about my voice when he told her about me, because if he didn't then she probably thinks I'm scared of her. Or sad. Which I'm not.

Well, okay. I am scared of her. But only because she's made my little asexual heart peek out of the corner, and I've spent all this time trying to convince my dad I'm not a lesbian. I'm afraid of how he'll laugh at me and say told you so. Fucker's less mature than I am. And, I'm not a lesbian. I mean, I don't know her, and I probably don't even like her.

She's just, y'know, the love of my life.

"There wasn't time." She plops down next to me and every little proton in my body is aware of her. What is she, a walking electric current? "And how is...this girl today?"

Ooh, it's a baby voice. She knows how to tease. Fantastic. Justine hides behind her pretty red hair. "I'm Justine. You just said my name a little while ago."

"Whatever." Larxene waves her hand in front of her face. I'm shaking more now. I want to cling to her or something, what the fuck. Maybe she's an electron and I'm a proton and we're attracted to each other and we'll...I dunno, have neutron babies or something.

What. The. Hell. Everybody knows neutrons don't have a charge, and any kid of ours would be charged. With sexual energy. Because...oh. Larxene's talking again. I can't miss anything she says. To do so would be a tragedy and a crime against passion.

"I haven't forgotten that you owe me a-"

"I remember," says Justine hastily. Out of the three of us, she's the neutron. She's got bland down to a T, which totally removes that, which leaves neurons, and she doesn't have any.

Where is this shit coming from? I'm a fucking scatterbrain, swear to god.

No more atom talk. Please. I hate science anyway.

"So, Naminé, what's your story," Larxene asks abruptly, sounding wonderfully disinterested. This sudden attention is disturbing. Do I care? No, not really. Some of my favorite things are disturbing. If anyone would care to ask, they might actually find me disturbing.

My hand shakes when I go to push my hair behind my ear. "Um...well, I..." I can't look at her. I turn my face downward – I know it looks like I'm getting shy, but...well, if I keep looking at her, I'll probably throw myself at her.

That would be bad.

"I run a photography studio, called Sweet Memories, but I don't take photographs. I got into it because I draw memories – some people come in for portraits, or for illustrations. Others come in and describe scenes, and I draw them. It...was Marluxia's idea, a long time ago. I just didn't have the funds until I went to Twilight Town."

"Oh, I didn't know you were a draw-er," Justine says brightly. I think she must be trying to ignore Goddess Mountain next to me. It's kind of sad.

"How do you spell that," Larxene asks sweetly.

The only response is an embarrassed expression.

I can see Olette approaching the table. I realize this is the most casual female company I've had since...high school. I'm surprised I haven't run screaming yet. But one look at Larxene and I'm not surprised anymore, because goddamn.

My cheeks don't even hurt anymore, because I don't have to smile at her to placate her.

And speaking of The Goddess, she's getting up to go. No! Don't leave me! Before I can stop myself, I say, "Wait. I..." I look down and make a show of looking through my wallet, but it's a cover for just looking away from her pretty face.

"Hmm?"

"Here's my card," I tell her, handing it over. Where is this coming from? "I don't know if I'll be in town much longer, so...if you're ever in the neighborhood..."

What? Come over and I'll draw you? I'll give you tea? We'll make sweet memories all night? I know I'll be here for about two months anyway...I'm a nutcase, apparently.

"I'll be sure to remember that," she says, giving me what I can only describe as a naughty grin. When she leans over to take my card, I can pretty much see down her black shirt – V-neck, I think they're called, but I shop as infrequently as possible, so maybe I'm just delusional. The knife charm on the cord around her neck seems to be fairly sharp, because there's a faint scratch between her collarbones.

Mm.