Title: Night Without Twilight
Characters/Pairings: Hayner, Selphie ; Hayner/Selphie
Author's Notes: Written for my Final Fantasy character post at KH Request (on LJ), for baka-tenshi, with the prompt: jump rope.
He remembers, when he was very young, a girl. A girl with brown hair that, when it caught the twilight just right, flashed cinnamon. A girl with sap-green eyes and scabs on her knees from tree climbing in the dark. Someone with a lyrical voice that taunted him and egged him on, but dipped with concern when he scraped his elbow or found himself on the receiving end of Seifer's fist. She's just a colorful blur in the back of his mind, but he remembers her.
Just like he remembers the day there was no sunset, or sunrise, but night lasted a very long time, and a white pillar split the shoreline. They'd been jumping rope on Sunset Terrace, too young to be afraid of a sky that wouldn't lighten, to think their parents might be concerned. The whole world was a pretty black sky and a thin plastic rope swinging in swift circles.
Together, they watched the light sever the sky over their heads. Twilight Town yawned apart, and space stared back. Beyond the stars were floating orbs of every color, some like sea-salt ice cream, some like blinking stoplights. Their mouths stretched open and in the wonder he remembers her skin reflected pale pink, her eyes wide and hungry for whatever lay outside. And he remembers dread, and holding onto her hand. No planet but this one.
There was a rumble that built to a quake, erupting into a scream that rose forth from the earth beneath their feet. The word flashed white – and then nothing. A sunset, as everlasting as before, and a frightened boy with an empty hand.
Yes, he remembers. A brave little girl in a honey-yellow dress, staring into space without fear. Some days, he'll look down at his palm, much bigger now, and think how eventually he'll find a way. Maybe she's on the sea-salt one, or the stoplight one, or some planet miles away he couldn't see. It doesn't matter. He'll keep looking, until she's not just a memory.
On a sun-kissed island, she sits and watches day slip into the sea, painting the sky orange. Something nibbles at the back of her mind – a glimpse of blond hair, amber eyes, short temper. The sun's crown disappears beneath the water. Her heart tells her to remember, remember.
She doesn't.
Title: Night Without Twilight
Characters/Pairings: Hayner, Selphie ; Hayner/Selphie
Author's Notes: Written for my Final Fantasy character post at KH Request (on LJ), for baka-tenshi, with the prompt: jump rope.
He remembers, when he was very young, a girl. A girl with brown hair that, when it caught the twilight just right, flashed cinnamon. A girl with sap-green eyes and scabs on her knees from tree climbing in the dark. Someone with a lyrical voice that taunted him and egged him on, but dipped with concern when he scraped his elbow or found himself on the receiving end of Seifer's fist. She's just a colorful blur in the back of his mind, but he remembers her.
Just like he remembers the day there was no sunset, or sunrise, but night lasted a very long time, and a white pillar split the shoreline. They'd been jumping rope on Sunset Terrace, too young to be afraid of a sky that wouldn't lighten, to think their parents might be concerned. The whole world was a pretty black sky and a thin plastic rope swinging in swift circles.
Together, they watched the light sever the sky over their heads. Twilight Town yawned apart, and space stared back. Beyond the stars were floating orbs of every color, some like sea-salt ice cream, some like blinking stoplights. Their mouths stretched open and in the wonder he remembers her skin reflected pale pink, her eyes wide and hungry for whatever lay outside. And he remembers dread, and holding onto her hand. No planet but this one.
There was a rumble that built to a quake, erupting into a scream that rose forth from the earth beneath their feet. The word flashed white – and then nothing. A sunset, as everlasting as before, and a frightened boy with an empty hand.
Yes, he remembers. A brave little girl in a honey-yellow dress, staring into space without fear. Some days, he'll look down at his palm, much bigger now, and think how eventually he'll find a way. Maybe she's on the sea-salt one, or the stoplight one, or some planet miles away he couldn't see. It doesn't matter. He'll keep looking, until she's not just a memory.
On a sun-kissed island, she sits and watches day slip into the sea, painting the sky orange. Something nibbles at the back of her mind – a glimpse of blond hair, amber eyes, short temper. The sun's crown disappears beneath the water. Her heart tells her to remember, remember.
She doesn't.