Okay, this gave me SO MUCH TROUBLE!!! It took forever to get right, when all I REALLY wanted to write was the...one part at the end. (cause it's ABOUT TIME!!!) Even now I'm kinda, meh about it. It's probably awkward in some places, because I cut and switched pieces around, trying to fix it...

Eh, well, it's Roxith, so I can't go too wrong with it. Gads, I love them. :)

Well, enjoy all! I'm off to finish the other 5 fics I'm trying to do XD Hopefully I'll finish the next one-shot and the color theme and post it...tonight or tomorrow. XD

Disclaimer: I OWN NAUGHT!!! -tears-

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Aerith seems to be forever wishing. She's a daydream believer, once-upon-a-time, happily-ever-after princess pulled straight from the pages of a fairy tale. Her wishes are numerous and plentiful, meticulously thought-out, carefully considered and worded eloquently in her soft, reverent voice, to the sky above.

It isn't just stars, either. She wishes on everything. Stars, candles, pennies, clovers, horseshoes, cats. Even eyelashes.

Occasionally, she wishes for Roxas, obediently asking for something simple, when he tells her he doesn't have anything to wish for (he always does, though, but he feels…guilty when he wishes, because it still doesn't seem right for a Nobody to presume upon the stars or lucky pennies or even eyelashes.) and then letting the wind carry the wish-laded lash away.

He can still remember the first time she wished something for him. He'd managed to make a complete fool of himself, yet, thinking back, he doesn't want to change a thing about that day…

At the first sight of the sweet young flower girls pink skirt and ribbon, Roxas panics, shoves on some shoes and grabs the nearest thing off his bed, so he'll look like he has a purpose of some sort, wandering around the Second District. However, when he's halfway out the door, he realizes that he's shoved on one flip-flop and one sneaker and he's holding – an umbrella.

An UMBRELLA.

Roxas gapes, first at the offending object in his hands, then at the blue sky and sunshine, then at his feet, knowing there's no way he can go out looking like THIS! He turns to careen back into the house and get some decent footwear (and ditch the dumb umbrella) when Aerith calls out to him, her bright, cheerful, pleasantly surprised voice ringing out across the square like a clear, bright bell, making it impossible for Roxas to pretend he hasn't heard her. Slowly turning back around, the blond glances down at his feet, then at his umbrella, wondering what to do.

Then, he throws all sense of embarrassment to the wind, holds his head high, shoulders back and, opening the umbrella with a defiant gesture, holds it above his head as he walks, with grave dignity in his flip-flop/sneaker's, down the stairs to where Aerith stands. There's no use in preserving his pride now. And besides, it's better to pretend the umbrella and different shoes aren't out of place, rather than act all ashamed about it.

Right?

As Roxas gets nearer to the cinnamon-haired young woman, he tries his best not to notice her extremely puzzled expression, aimed at his feet and his blue-with-yellow-stars (it couldn't at least have been a simple black one) umbrella. Aerith had stopped to call out to him, but now she's standing very still, head tilted to one side, blinking her jade-green eyes repeatedly in confusion. Roxas can feel a hot blush creeping up his neck, and with an effort he makes himself walk all the way up to her, holding up his umbrella to shelter them both.

"H'lo Aerith." Roxas says, unable to keep the note of sheepish embarrassment out of his voice. He's never noticed how much TALLER she is than him (well, the other one is still waiting on a growth spurt, so it makes sense that Roxas is too, even though, at sixteen it's starting to become humiliating.), practically requiring him to stand on tiptoe to cover her with the umbrella. "How're you?"

"I'm….fine." Aerith says slowly, looking up at the umbrella, then down at him. She's smiling slightly – he's beginning to think it's impossible for her NOT to smile – but she mostly looks perplexed, reaching up to brush her bangs out of her face. "Uh, might I inquire as to…what you're holding?"

So polite. As always. Aerith seems possessed with the incredible grace and poise to handle and overcome every obstacle with a gentle smile and a kind word. Roxas often finds himself feeling like a great big clutzy doofus around her, his foot perpetually in his mouth. To avoid eating sneaker (or flip-flop, now that he had a choice) Roxas avoids her eyes, choosing to look straight ahead instead.

Unfortunately his diminutive height puts him at exact eye level with her chest, making him blush bright red and turn away very quickly, his voice cracking in a very humiliating way as he replies, "An umbrella."

"But…it's not even raining." Aerith says with a light laugh, shifting her lavender basket to her other arm. The scent from the flowers – and her – slowly wafts around them, under the dumb umbrella, intoxicating, light, sweet and fresh. A mesmerizing, delicate perfume that makes Roxas's head spin and his knees feel weak. If this wasn't feeling, wishing, longing, what was?

"It might." He manages finally, faintly. He knows it's a ridiculous answer, and knows that he's probably given himself away. She probably knows he came out here for the sole purpose of seeing her, that he's obsessed with her, that he thinks about her night and day and has gone so far as to watch for her out his window and run out with two different shoes on, holding an umbrella, to spend two minutes in her presence, and the knowledge that SHE knows brings that hot, embarrassed blush back to his face and –

And she's smiling at him.

"Well," Aerith says in that gentle, sweet way of hers, glancing at the umbrella, then back at him, a brilliant, beautiful smile curling her perfect lips, making her glow from the inside-out. "That was very thoughtful of you, Roxas. Thank you."

After a stunned moment, Roxas clears his throat and manages to whisper hoarsely. "You're welcome." She smiles even deeper, meeting his gaze with her smooth emerald one and he can't take his eyes off her. His feet move without any conscious effort as she continues on her way, adjusting her pace to stay under his stupid, lame, WONDERFUL umbrella that keeps them side-by-side, so close he can feel her elbow brush against his every so often, making him even dizzier than before.

She's talking about something, but he isn't hearing anything. He's just trying to keep up, trying not to pass out from happiness and giddiness, trying to nod in the appropriate spots, trying not to stare at her lips, moving as she speaks, just trying not to stare, period, at her. Of course, such a thing is impossible, but hey, Roxas won't let it be said that he didn't try.

They meander lazily across the square, under an umbrella, while the sunshine shines down around them and his shoes alternately squeak and clap against the cobblestones. There might be people staring in confusion at the odd picture, but at this point, neither of them cares. It seems perfectly natural to be taking a walk in the middle of June, under an umbrella. Though, truthfully, if you asked Roxas then, he wouldn't remember there were other people, or umbrella's or flip-flops or even flowers.

There was only Aerith.

She's still chatting with (or at) him, even though it's like talking to a brick wall, because he doesn't respond, for fear his voice would betray everything he's feeling. She sits down on a bench, with a contented sigh, and he takes his place next to her, still holding the umbrella above them. Her long graceful fingers absently sort through the tiny lavender blossoms, discarding one or two bruised ones and letting the light summer wind scatter them across the square. She turns to meet Roxas's eyes, to remark on something-or-other, then stops.

"What?" he says, frowning slightly, brought out of his dazed stupor by the power of those eyes, focused on his face. Actually she's looking intently at his left cheekbone, for some reason. "Aerith, what is it?" She doesn't seem to hear the question, abruptly reaching up, towards his face.

Roxas can't help himself, and he flinches, jerking away and almost dropping the umbrella. Aerith blinks once or twice, then offers him a small smile. "It's okay." she says softly, soothingly, not explaining herself, just reassuring him that everything's fine. And somehow that's enough. Arching his eyebrows in skepticism, Roxas stays perfectly still, closing his eyes in spite of himself as her fingertips brush his cheek, momentarily.

He thinks suddenly that this is the first time she's really touched him.

And then it's over and she's straightening and examining her pointer finger with grave interest. Roxas blinks, face warming as a slight blush creeps across it, making the warm June day seem even warmer. Clearing his throat and trying to appear nonchalant, he leans forward to see what was so important. Resting on her fingertip is a hair, tiny and half-moon-shaped, glinting slightly in the sunlight.

"Eyelash." Aerith explains simply, laughing softly as he holds his breath, not wanting to blow it away. "Yours, actually, so you get to wish."

"I get to what?" Roxas repeats, frowning at her, then at the eyelash that's caused all this. Being male, he doesn't particularly want much attention drawn to his eyelashes. That's a distinctly feminine thing, right? But, for all his short days, he's had people mentioning how long they are. He came very close to strangling his best friend on more than one occasion, after growling for the millionth time that, yes, he was born with it, Maybelline had nothing to do with it, now shut up.

"Wish on it." Aerith says, giving him a puzzled look, as if surprised at his incomprehension. "You get to wish on eyelashes, if you find one and catch it." Roxas nods slowly, thinking that she's making it sound like eyelashes are some rare, elusive animal that needs to be hunted and caught. Then she smiles and he decides it's not that weird. "Just say your wish and blow it away." She says, carefully stretching her hand towards him.

But Roxas shakes his head, gently pushing on her wrist with his free hand (the one that isn't still holding the umbrella) and lowering his head, because he can't meet her eyes. "I don't have any wishes." He mumbles softly, staring at his feet, his yellow flip-flop and black sneaker. "You wish."

A mildly concerned frown creases her forehead, and for a moment he hates himself for distressing her. "You must have some wishes, Roxas." Aerith says gently, leaning forward to try and meet his eyes. The curls of hair that hang on either side of her face like a picture frame almost brush his arm as she gracefully contorts herself and looks into his eyes. "I know you do." she says in a soft voice.

Aerith has that quality of reading people, and Roxas blushes again, certain she can see through him like glass. He quickly turns away and says, very shortly, "No, I don't. You wish for something." Because, after all, he thinks bitterly, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she sits up straighter and frowns thoughtfully, You deserve it more than I do, Aerith…

"Well, all right then." the flower girl says with a resigned sigh, pursing her lips in deep thought and examining the eyelash as if to see how big a wish it's capable of carrying. Roxas waits, trying not to stare at her lips again. Suddenly Aerith brightens, giving him a sweet, mischievous grin. "But you have to help me blow it away!"

"Too heavy for you?" Roxas teases with a smile of his own, making her laugh and nod in mock embarrassment. He feels a bit better at that, leaning forward and readying himself as she brings the eyelash-bearing finger to eye level and presses her lips together in thought. In the few days he's known her, Aerith has never made any sort of decision without careful consideration.

Finally she nods once, mentally approving her silent decision, then clears her throat. "I wish," she begins in a soft, respectful tone to the eyelash. "That this summer be full of many more days like this, where we don't need umbrella;s, we just use them because we like them." Roxas rolls his eyes briefly, but smiles and takes a deep breath, ready to send the wish-laded lash off into the sunset.

But she's not finished.

"And…" Aerith continues slowly, hesitantly. "I also wish…" She trails off and, confused, Roxas glances over to meet her eyes. She looks back at him, shy but unwavering, swallowing hard and finishing in a very soft voice, "That I could make some of your wishes come true too, Roxas."

He's speechless, breathless, so she's the one whose puff of air sends the eyelash into the wind. Aerith watches after it, her lips still formed in a delicate O, though there's already a gentle smile curling the corners of it. She finally turns from watching her wishes – for herself, for him, for them – fly into the wind, and meets his gaze again, so close he can feel her breath, lips still making a perfect rosebud-colored bow, inches from his.

And it's too much temptation to resist.

Of course, he dropped the umbrella, because he was busy cupping her face in his hands, but the thing was useless in the middle of summer and, anyways, it was pretty ugly with those garish neon-yellow stars and the pastel-blue background, he never really liked it much, and he didn't even notice, because he was lost in her, taste and scent and sound and feeling, and nothing else mattered.

"Does this mean you'll tell me some of your wishes now?" she whispers when they come up for air, her eyes bright as emeralds, luminous as the ocean, her smile still resonating on his lips.

Roxas smiles, tangling his fingers gently in her hair and brushing the tip of his nose against hers. "That was one of them." He whispers back.

Being a Nobody had a way of teaching you that it's better not to wish for too many things. Wishing, hoping, dreaming...they're all activities reserved for those gifted with hearts. Yet, to feel, to express, to have emotion, to wish seemed like the most impossibly wonderful thing to Roxas, and he devoted every moment he could to making that ideal (he wouldn't call it a wish, because a heartless being couldn't wish) a reality.

When Roxas finally had an occasion to wish, however, he found it wasn't exactly as he'd pictured. But then, most things he'd envied in Somebody's – happiness, daydreaming, even loving – weren't as picturesque as they'd seemed. Wishing was no different.

What Roxas hadn't known, back in his first few days, was that everything you did that involved those with hearts in any way, was tempered with sadness. He knew now. Because every wish, dream, hope he had in his few brief days in that town, was centered solely around a girl who he was forbidden from…forever.

And that knowledge made him want to cry empty, emotionless tears of agony and bliss when she kissed him, simultaneously making his wishes come true – and dashing them to pieces.

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...only I could go right from a suitably smoochy moment to reminding you all that Roxas is angst-bucket of the year. XD Oh well. At least we FINALLY got some kissing action going on! Mwa. I need me sommore of that Roxith kissing goodness. :3

That actually turned out pretty okay. I'm happy. :D Now I've gotta go write the next one-shot and my prom fic and my color fic and the rest of my request and a birthday fic...-wanders off mumbling to herself-

(oh, by the way, yes, I do wish on eyelashes. I've even almost done it to strangers, poked them in the face, then gleefully displayed their shedded eyelash to them. XD)