Memories

She was twelve. She was twelve, and he had just turned thirteen – what an age, he could lord over them all now, except for Wakka, who was nearly fourteen – and they were all at the beach. It was the beginning of summer.

He remembered everything about that day – the way they swam until the tides started to change, and raced until they were tired and dry, and how they sat together by the paopu tree to talk about the remember whens and that one time before she ever came to the island. She laughed at each and every story they had, her giggles eventually dying down to smiles, and she kept reaching up to pat at her hair. It was cut short, just to her chin.

She was twelve, and he was thirteen, and watching her that day he realized that maybe there was a little more to being thirteen than just being bossy.

-

It was her thirteenth birthday, he was fourteen, and he remembers how they all ate cupcakes until they got sick. Later, they sat outside, nursing tall glasses of soda to soothe their stomachs.

Sora gave her some ribbons, maybe she could use them for charms, or hair ties, or something. (She smiles at him, brilliantly, because they are blue, and blue is her favourite colour. Blue like the ocean, or the sky. Or her eyes.)

He gave her (coloured pencils, special ones that he found, just for her-

Stop it, Naminé. I don't want to remember it this way.)

-

She was fourteen, and he was fifteen, and it was nearing the end of summer. Maybe. He didn't know for sure anymore.

She was fourteen, and so much smaller – he could cradle her in his arms, like a doll. She was lifeless, just like a doll. Her eyes would open but she wouldn't look at him, and she had no pulse when her arms would wrap around his neck when he carried her. Isn't this what you wanted? the darkness asks, and he doesn't know how to respond.

He'll admit: he wanted her heart, but he didn't want her heartless.

-

He must be sixteen by now, she thinks. How long has he been gone, anyway? It's already summer, and his birthday was in the summer. Or was it? She can't remember.

She has two boys in her head, two voices that both call her name, and both tease her about letting her hair grow long, and want to save her. She wants to save them, though, so they're at a standstill, and no one is saved yet.

Everyone says, It's just part of being fifteen. But it isn't, is it? Being fifteen isn't something so easily explained away. He was fifteen when she was heartless, when her heart was with—she can't remember, why can't she remember? Maybe it doesn't matter.

His face is the only one in her mind, now. She can't tell if it's because she only wants to remember Riku, or if it's because she has no one else to remember.


challenge: none
words: 510
notes: written for Jaesprite as a Secret Santa project. :)