Hey, everyone! No, I am not dead. Sure, I haven't updated in awhile, but I have reasons. I haven't touched my computer for weeks, so that explains it, correct? Anywho, I'm really grateful for all of the reviews! Shout out to all of you guys. Moving on, I want to say that this chapter is rather strange, but I like it. So oh well...this is just one of those awkward chapters. But I'm actually kind of happy about this story.
Erm...yeah, that's about it. School has started, so I may take longer to update. But I'll try my best. And! Yes, and. I have learned recently that some people think that Zexion is actually sixteen...even twenty. I personally think that he's seventeen or eighteen, but I like the number nineteen, so yeah. That was random...so let's continue, shall we?
Pairings: Zexion/Namine, One-sided: Marluxia/Namine.
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. All rights to Squeenix and Disney.
Rating of chapter: K plus for the slightest language.
T e L L - M e - A - S t oR y
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Chapter Ten: The Sun May Not Shine
It was that nagging question that haunted her every passing day since the moment she met him. It was a mystery to the young artist; a pure, unknown mystery. There was something missing, and it yearned to be discovered. The flower would never bloom, the sun would not shine. She felt empty each time she looked at his face. When would he learn? What would it cost to be discovered? What boundaries would Naminè have to cross to gain the knowledge? What was the answer to the question:
"Zexion, can you smile?"
Zexion tore his gaze from his book and met her crystal eyes. Naminè simpered at him as she tilted her head to the side. That smile that danced across her soft, pink lips caught his attention. Her cheeks were slightly flustered from embarrassment from the inquirement. Her hair was smooth and shiny from yesterday's accomplishment. But there was one thought in the illusionist's mind: What an odd question.
"I'm sure that I am capable," he answered monotone, going back to reading that damn book of his. He cradled it in his grasp as if it was breakable. Naminè stared at him curiously. It was not the answer she was longing for, and he knew this. He knew that she was filled with torment from lack of knowledge. Maybe if she would just ask him…
"Can you smile now?" she queried again, her lips forming a slight frown. She was, indeed, disappointed from his answer. Distinctly, Zexion glanced at her, arching a slate-blue eyebrow. Truthfully, he did not like smiling. Anyone who smiled was merely answered by a flat stare from him, except for Naminè, of course. Her smiles were peaceful and enjoyable. But now it had vanished. To him, though, smiling was useless. Why would he want to…smile? A smile was a sign of contentment. He, of all people, was not content. Nobodies should not be happy, for they lacked hearts. He wondered sometimes why this girl would smile. She had every right to be sad. Zexion remained silent.
"Can you smile for me? Please?" Naminè pleaded, concern woven in her brow. She obviously wanted him to smile for her. If she had not added the 'for me' part of the sentence, he would have refused. But since it was her, he would accept. Zexion hesitated before twisting his face into an undeniable smug expression. Naminè scrunched up her face. This was not working.
"That's a smirk!" she whined, crossing her arms over her chest. Zexion's so-called smile vanished into a blank expression. She was displeased. He had tried; wasn't that enough to please the little witch? It seemed no matter how hard he tried, she would not appreciate him. Apparently, this time, she was not satisfied.
"What's the point of smiling?" Zexion's steel eyes narrowed as he questioned her. Naminè scoffed. Zexion watched as she shook her head pitifully and closed her sketchbook. Thoughtfully, she rubbed her round, smooth chin with her thumb and tapped the tip of her nose with her index finger. She seemed deep in thought, thinking, of course, of a reasonable answer that would meet the Cloaked Schemer's standards. Naminè looked back up. She beamed, livening up her frail, pale face.
"It's a sign that you are pleased. Happy, cheerful, even a sad smile is necessary," Naminè leaned forward and tapped his nose instead of hers. "It may not be the best day, but you could brighten it up by just…smiling," Naminè let a hint of a smile livened her features. However, Zexion stared at her again. The white witch flailed her arms up, a sign of giving up, and let out an exasperated sigh. Hopping off her chair, she stepped forward, right in front of Zexion. He patiently closed his book.
"Listen, how about I teach you?" Naminè perched her hands on her not-so-formed hips. There was no answer from the Cloaked Schemer. Instead, he raised an eyebrow again, curious of her behavior. Taking his silence as a 'of course, whatever you wish, dearest Naminè,' she placed her hands on his cheeks. He started, surprised by her cold touch, but allowed her to force the corners of his mouth upwards.
"See? That's how you smile!" she exclaimed, drawing back her hands. Zexion frowned immediately and Naminè scoffed.
"You're so emotionless, you…you emo!" she stomped her foot in aggravation. Furrowing his eyebrows, Zexion thought on her statement. She called him emotionless…and then emo, which was short for 'emotional'. He sighed and shook his head. The girl was never going to understand proper grammar or terminology.
"You are incorrect and an incompetent child," he said bitterly. Naminè glared at him as he continued, "I am not entirely emotionless. I do tend to become frustrated, but only on a rare occasion. Also, 'emo' means 'emotional' and I am not emotional. So, therefore, you used two words that absolutely do not go together, which is called an 'oxymoron'." Naminè's mouth formed an 'o' shape as she listened to his explanation. Surprisingly, it was the first thing he said to her that made sense. But still…he was cold and needed some 'happy' lessons.
"Well, then, Mr. I-am-not-emotionless-nor-emotional…can I put you up to a challenge? I will make you smile by the end of the week. If not, you can tell me to do anything you want," she held up an index finger and raised it to her lips. Zexion tried not to get a nasty thought in his mind. Damn Axel's influence…he shook the thoughts out and sighed softly.
"That is classified as a 'bet', little one," he murmured with a gentle edge to his voice.
"Well, whatever! Same thing!"
"It is not," Zexion said bluntly. Rolling her eyes, Naminè huffed.
"Fine, a bet then."
"I accept," Zexion responded. The reaction was, as planned, a surprised Naminè. Zexion was hardly one for petty little bets and promises. Truthfully, he decided to be amused by the girl's poor attempts to make him smile. He wanted to see just how far she would go. Awful, but yes, that was the plan. Naminè overcame the momentary shock and grinned ear to ear. She had the perfect plan, and right now was plan 'A'.
"What makes you happy?" Now, that was an interesting question. What made the Cloaked Schemer happy? Was it possible? Zexion sneered.
"That is simple. Books," he calmly stated. Naminè crossed her arms again.
"You already have a whole library!"
"So that must mean that I am, of course, thoroughly content." Indeed, his books were what made him happy. At any time, he could search through the book shelves and pick out any book. He had already read the whole library, of course, since his stay there, but he would read another one of his books again. He was rather protective over them, as well. But now, going back the current event, Zexion noted Naminè's furrowed eyebrows.
"It means you're spoiled." Zexion was taken aback.
"I'm spoiled?" Naminè nodded, blonde tendrils of hair whispering in every direction about her petite face. Zexion scoffed viciously at her. This conversation was getting on his last nerves, and he could not help but snap.
"I don't demand pleasantries, such as you. You always demand me for everything to suit your satisfactory. You always ask for this and that, and I have to give it to you. If not, you throw a childish fit. I do not throw tantrums, such as you," he huffed coldly. He knew he hit home with that statement, but he knew it was harsh. He regretted his words the moment they flowed from his mouth. Shamefully, he glanced up at the girl standing before him. Naminè, however, was not affected. Her face softened after she heard the hurtful words. This made Zexion guilty of his attitude towards her. He found himself admitting that he was…almost wrong.
Wait…
He was wrong; she was not spoiled, to say in the least. She was a prisoner, and Marluxia enjoyed her as his pet, which was mortifyingly disgusting. How could he call her spoiled? It was he who was spoiled. He enjoyed his quiet time, his books, his habit of filling out unfinished lab reports left by Lexeaus…Maybe this simple witch was right, for once in her life. He treated her unfairly. He avoided her eyes, feeling heat rising in his cheeks.
"Zexion…" Naminè spoke, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. He stared at it. It was so small, and so white. It looked so fragile, he was almost afraid that she would break. Even though he could not feel her skin, he felt her touch. Eerily, he felt almost comforted. Naminè went on.
"What's wrong?" her sweet, innocent voice rang out like a clear bell. Zexion knitted his eyebrows together in a stern, thoughtful expression.
"What makes you think anything is wrong?" he demanded bluntly. Naminè sighed, exasperated from his stubborn attitude. She stepped back to give her friend more personal space, for which he was grateful for.
"You're usually so kind to me, despite your super-long speeches. You usually can tolerate me, but today…you're so different. That's why I think something is wrong, Zexion," Naminè fluttered her lashes delicately and slowly, yet her voice was stern. She was hurt, and he could tell. So, he made the decision to achieve something that he had never done in his life.
"I'm sorry." And he meant it, instead of lacing it with the usual sarcasm.
Naminè stared at him, surprised.
Zexion shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to get in a more suitable position. Unwillingly, he sniffed, and then sneezed, but he covered his mouth to show that he was polite. Naminè stepped back once and examined him with her keen azure eyes. The reason for Zexion's ill mood for the past few days was because he certainly did have a cold. The flu, to be more precise and straight on target. Though, Naminè, of course, was one who knew how to treat a cold. She remembered from when she was a Somebody. Leaning forward again, Naminè brought her small hand up and placed it on Zexion's forehead, but quickly withdrew it. Zexion arched an eyebrow.
"What is it?" he asked quietly. With a tiny tinge of a smile gracing her lips, Naminè used both of her hands to wrap around Zexion's right arm, pulling him up, which caused him to look at her confused. Their current conversation was officially over.
"Your forehead is burning up! We need to treat you!" she said excitedly. The way she was acting, it was sure that she was planning to humiliate him in some way. Or embarrass him or something. It was possibly revenge for being rude towards her, despite his apology. Zexion allowed her to pull him along with her towards the door; he deserved it, anyways.
"How exactly would we do that?" he queried, halting for a moment. Naminè meaningfully beamed up at him.
"We need to make you some chicken and dumplings! That should cure it…" she rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. Zexion sighed and used his other hand to summon a portal, dragging the girl into it so that the black gateway could swallow both of them up. Naminè blinked for a moment as she was engulfed in the dark mist. When it subsided, they were in the kitchen. She tittered, knowing that Zexion would approve of her trying to help him.
The first thing the girl did was search for a large pot in the pantry below the stove. However, when she looked in the pantry, it was empty, except for the mouse trap with rotten cheese and a half-decayed rat in the death trap. Wincing, she shut the small door and turned to Zexion, who answered by pointed at the pantry above the stove, which was too high for her to reach, and, truthfully, too high for him to reach as well. Naminè longingly gazed up at Zexion, who stood beside her thinking. An idea clicked in his mind.
"May I ask permission to carry you on my shoulders so that you may reach the pantry?" he offered kindly. Naminè smiled, trying not to laugh at the way he asked her the simple question. Nodding, she watched as Zexion crouched in a low position so that it would be easy for Naminè to sit on his shoulders. Feeling her face flush violently, she knew that she was blushing. Thankfully, Zexion's back was facing her. Without another word, the girl placed her small hands on his broad shoulders and lifted herself up. After a few attempts, she managed to be seated comfortably on her friend's shoulders.
As Zexion straightened his stance and stood, he gripped onto Naminè's bare knees for support. The girl perched on his shoulders blushed again before Zexion stepped forward to the stove. Naminè reached up and opened the high pantry and spotted the pot sitting by itself. Happily, she grasped onto the handles and pulled it out, resting it on Zexion's head. He remained silent as Naminè slid off of his back and clumsily placed the pot on the countertop beside the stove. Inquisitively, he arched an eyebrow.
"What are the ingredients we must collect?" he questioned towards the girl. She grinned sheepishly.
"Well, first we need chicken stock, then some cooked chicken, and then we make biscuits! But we don't cook those," Naminè shook her head and beamed up at the Cloaked Schemer. Her face lit up so extravagantly, it made her appear to be angelic. Zexion stared at her before turning around towards the refrigerator and opening it, taking out two boxes of chicken broth, leftover chicken breast and instant biscuit dough. He carried them in his arms and let them topple onto the island in the center of the kitchen. Naminè immediately grabbed the two boxes and poured the contents into the preheated pot on the stove. Whirling around gracefully, the girl grabbed a kitchen knife that was lying randomly on the counter and began to cut the leftover chicken into small cubes. As she did that, she glanced over to where Zexion stood.
Surprisingly, he began helping her by making strips of biscuits from the dough. Gratefully, she let a small smile creep onto her features while Zexion bit his lip, determining how small the strips would be. After the broth boiled for a few minutes and all of the vittles were prepared, Zexion helped Naminè poured the pieces of chicken and biscuit into the pot by picking her up gently by her waist.
"Now we wait for about ten minutes so that the biscuits will cook with the lid on the pot," Naminè said as Zexion placed the cover on the pot. Satisfied, she went to the refrigerator and took out a small container of orange juice. She set it on the counter with a cup from a wire rack beside the sink. Signaling for Zexion to come over to her, she poured the orange juice into the glass and handed it to the slate haired Nobody. He raised an eyebrow.
"What is this for?" he asked monotone. Naminè sighed.
"Have you ever heard of vitamin C?" Zexion nodded and the girl continued. "Well, orange juice has lots of it, and vitamin C helps cure a cold, so drink up!" Zexion accepted the cup, but gave her a flat stare.
"That is incorrect. Vitamin C contains antioxidants that help prevent the common cold and the flu, but it does not cure it," he stated blandly. Naminè rolled her eyes.
"Well, it doesn't hurt to drink orange juice every day."
"Actually, the anti-"
"Oh, just shut up and drink your juice." Zexion snapped his mouth closed before taking a small sip from the tangy juice. He watched Naminè stir the soup occasionally as he guzzled down his favorite fruit juice. He decided to not argue anymore while he finished his drink. A few long moments of silence passed before the girl let out a soft hum.
"Okay, it should be ready," Naminè turned towards him with a bowl of hot soup with a spoon in her right hand. A slight smirk was fixed upon her lips as she ladled a scoop of chicken and dumplings and stepped up to Zexion, inches away from her reach. Fluidly, she raised the spoon forward and touched his lips with the spoon. He stiffened.
"I am not handicapped. I am able to eat by myself; I'm not a child," he drawled in a slightly annoyed tone. The blonde haired girl smiled softly and shook her head lightly.
"You're sick; you need to be spoiled!" she grinned, bringing him memories of the day's argument. Instead of complaining anymore, Zexion opened his mouth and allowed the girl to shove the spoon down his throat. He slightly choked as she withdrew the spoon. The soup scorched the roof of his mouth, causing him to flinch. The taste of it was rather pleasing, with the chicken broth and pastry blended together. That was what was in his mind until he started chewing on a biscuit. He would have gagged, but the girl in front of him had grabbed a napkin and started wiping his chin.
Gently, Naminè rubbed the soft napkin on the corners of Zexion's mouth. Her free hand was placed at the base of his neck, and he detected the smoothness of her pale skin. His eyes bore into hers as she examined her work, until she glanced up and met his gaze. He heard her swallow thickly before she spoke.
"How is it?" she quipped. Zexion painfully gulped down the remains of soup and gritted his teeth.
"I think it's a little undercooked."
(A/N): See? It's weird. But I like it...yet I don't. It's a love-hate relationship. I didn't go into full detail at the end there because I really don't want 'romantic interest' to 'spark up' now. Well, just a little tidbit. Please leave a review and tell me what you think of this chapter! I'd love to hear your opinion, naughty or nice. Oh, and one little note: Yes, Namine was a bitch in the last chapter. I have had some reviews telling me this, and I agree. Too-da-loo.