Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories.
In These Quiet Moments
Marluxia came to her room that night, holding a rather sour expression and hair in quite a wet disarray. Naminé had to suppress a rather amused chuckle when he glared at her under a heavy, rather matted fringe, blue eyes almost smouldering in unconcealed irritation, though her cheeks later bloomed intensely red when she realized that he had ghosted in without wearing a shirt.
He didn't exactly seem to mind that fact though, slinging the towel over his shoulders onto the floor, sitting down on it and flinging a hairbrush onto her lap, before turning around and declaring in a huff:
"Comb my hair."
She couldn't help giggling then, because the situation was all together really very funny, and she was trying very hard to stifle it when he half-turned his head to glare at her again, pointing empathetically to the brown, bedraggled mess. "And if it hurts I'll pull yours out."
That stopped the giggling fit immediately, although her mouth still twitched as she set to work on the tangled snarls of hair, wandering thoughts like How did he wash his hair? coursing through her mind. Her tiny hands were very useful, small and nimble, and her artist's patience helped as she steadily unpicked and untangled each knot.
Marluxia, on the other hand, squirmed and complained like a restless three-year-old, twisting his head here and there and often tugging his hair out of her hands, and she had to run her fingers in the tangle-free areas to show him how good it felt, speaking in a soft, soothing tone that "it'll be all over soon if you'll be patient enough", and when it seemed that he had finally settled down she realized that she had been humming one of her mother's songs when she did her hair.
She stopped immediately, of course, and so did her hands, cheeks flaming again at the unconscious slip into her past, but then Marluxia grunted and asked, "Why'd you stop?"
It surprised her, and she hesitantly hummed the opening bars, and Marluxia was nodding and saying, drawling his words a bit as if he wasn't quite concentrating, "Go on, go on," and she had been even more surprised when her fingers slipped through damp but free-moving hair, and it just felt so pleasant.
Evidently, Marluxia thought so as well, leaning against her knees and tilting his head back slightly, and his blue eyes were unfocused and more than half-lidded, close to closing, really, as she carefully combed through the thick locks. She felt her face go red again as she smoothed his hair, stroking the edges of his face with her fingers and coming across a single blue earring in his right ear, the colour of his eyes. Almost daringly she ghosted across his bare shoulders, silently wondering at his creamy skin and the muscles built up underneath.
...until a hand suddenly came up and pressed her hand down against his flesh, and those blue eyes were looking at her with such intensity that it was frightening. She let out a squeak as he pulled her down so that she was bending over his back and facing him, the front of her dress feeling a bit damp from his hair, and he was making her hand touch him, his throat, his neck, the lines of his collarbones, until finally he rested her hand across his chest, and all the while he was looking at her with those blue eyes. Something swelled within her, something she couldn't quite recognise.
"That was very nice," and his voice was lowered to a mere whisper, and somehow she managed to break the gaze, shuddering as his lips brushed her cheek.
"We must do this again sometime soon. It was very...enjoyable. Very relaxing."
She forced herself to speak. "I'm...I'm glad you liked it."
The blue eyes continued to bore into her, and he released her hand, allowing her to sit back again while he got to his feet. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling uncomfortably sure that it's been made transparent by the dampness after leaning onto him. The amicable atmosphere that had surrounded them minutes ago had long vanished, and she could feel her old fear and hatred bubbling up again, making her shy away.
Marluxia bent over to pick up the towel, and for one moment she was free of his gaze, but almost immediately he was in front of her again, freezing her with those eyes. And yet, strangely enough, his touch was tender when he brushed the stray strands of hair from her face, and then he was pressing a fatherly kiss to her temple.
"Larxene will not bother you tomorrow," he said to her, straightening up. "Good night, and thank you, Naminé."
And he ghosted away, leaving her with the feel of his hair and his skin on her fingers, the taste of sour fear and bitter hatred and heady confusion on her tongue, and somehow she wished that she had not captured this entirely new memory and seared it right on her heart.
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