A Lonely Story About Nobody
Chapter 2: A Story About a Boy
There wasn't much to the town of Destiny Plains. It was a sad, tired farming town with sad, tired buildings. The land was so flat that it made Naminé wonder if the rest of the world was just one wide horizontal plane of green. After a few days of exploring, it felt like she had seen everything, and life was on repeat. The stores were scant few, all lined up on the main road, and both the road and stores looked heavily worn. The shops were very old and probably handed down from generation to generation without much change or inspiration.
Besides the humdrum of the quiet town square, the rest of the land alternated between long stretches of unclaimed grass, and rice farms. The ground slumped down to a low plateau that was separated by small dirt trails, ankle-deep water skimmed the dipped surface, which did not do any favors for the humidity in the air.
Naminé thought it was all very, very pretty, but also very, very boring.
While she did like settling down and staring at beautiful days, staring was all she did. She walked the same beaten path for so long her feet didn't bleed anymore. In truth she had hoped to catch sight of Sora, but after that one day she couldn't find him anymore. She tried all the stores, she tried the main road and all the smaller dirt roads it splintered into, she tried the grove of mismatched trees, but he was gone.
She went back into the first store she had seen him in, she did every day. In the back of her mind, she told herself she was being odd, lurking after a stranger she didn't know, but she didn't mind that thought. How was an invisible, white clothed girl already not creepy?
The shop owner was half asleep, he didn't even bother to look up with the door chimed open, his cigarette drooping from his mouth and ash threatened to fall onto his faded blue pants. Naminé walked to the stationary section again, no boy, but lots of paper and pens and-
Blue eyes widened, she had never seen so many colors in one place before. The picture on the box said "paint set" and showed a smiling, handsome boy spreading the colors on a piece of paper with a brush. It looked wonderful, without thinking Naminé grabbed the paint set and hurried through the door, not looking back. She suppressed an excited shiver that slivered down her spine.
She came all the way back to the lonesome house on the hill. Vanitas wasn't there, he rarely was. She had no idea what he was doing, and she never ran into him on her own travels; it made her all the more curious since there was not many places to go in the quiet town. But at the same time she didn't want to ask him, she wouldn't have gotten a straight answer anyway.
"I have something," she told the replica, the only other person in the room. He still didn't have a name, and it was awkward always calling him 'you' but she felt like she didn't have the right to name anyone. But despite that she tried her best to treat him like a person; she thought it was too sad otherwise.
He didn't respond, of course, but she was used to it. She sat in front of him and gave him a soft, understanding smile.
"It was really beautiful outside today. Have you ever been outside?" she said to the silence, "I'll show you, it's a shame if you never see it."
She opened the paint set, dozens of fresh tubes lay in front of her. "Um-" Naminé didn't know what to do next. She opened a tube and the pushed the paint out on the floor, it squirted an emerald green glob with a strange squish. She did the same with the rest of the paint, and when she was finished she stared at them anxiously.
"Well, here goes nothing."
She passed by the paint brush all together and dipped her finger in the emerald green, then made small thin strokes on the wall right in front of the boy.
"The grass goes on forever," she told him, "Like an ocean of green. Well, I haven't seen an ocean before but I think that's what it would look like. It's not quiet this color though, I think there's more…"
She bit her lip recalling the scenery, then dipped her hand in the yellow, mixing the two colors in the edges until she was satisfied. This was exciting; she felt a beat thump rhythmically in her chest like she had been running for days, even though logically she understood that there was nothing really in her chest to beat. She couldn't believe she'd never done this before, it was like she was made to paint.
Next came the sky, this one was harder. The sky changed blue the way people changed moods, she didn't think that just choosing the shade would do it justice. It was a living, breathing soul, more real than both her and the boy sitting behind her combined. She tried the best she could, making it bright and deep, with large rolling clouds, billowing as white as her dress.
As white as her dress was, she repeated in her head. The paint was now coated on her dress, along with her hands, and even on her knees and feet. It popped out brighter on her than on the wall, she was a paler canvas after all. She looked back at the boy.
"Do you see it? It's not as pretty as outside but I hope I kind of captured it. It's too bad though, a picture doesn't convey the sound of the outside. One day I hope you get to hear the wind against the leaves, it makes a lovely sound."
The boy said nothing.
She turned back to the wall, and she felt a swell in her body. She had made something with her hands, something that was hers alone, just as much as her name.
She heard the door open behind her, and Vanitas prowled behind her like a predator. Naminé began to wonder why he never walked normally.
"What the hell is this? Did someone murder a rainbow?"
The faceless boy peered over curiously.
"It's not that I don't appreciate the homicidal sentiment, but the mess is obnoxious. Maybe when someone leaves their room dark, they want it dark for a reason."
"I'm drawing the outside."
"It looks like you threw paint on yourself and had a seizure against the wall," Vanitas snorted, "And if you wanted to see the outside, you could go outside."
"He doesn't go outside," she pointed to the replica.
"I see, how thoughtful. And look how happy you've made him!" Vanitas slunk behind the other boy and pulled his mouth out into a painful stretched smile. Naminé went back to painting, she figured reacting would just egg him on.
"When did you have time to see all of this?"
"When you were out," she said, she was adding the tree grove now. She dipped her pinky in the brown and wondered how it would look on the already brown wood of the walls, "I've was looking for someo… looking around." She was always careful what to say around Vanitas. He had a way with using words that confused and sometimes scared her.
"I thought you stopped because you don't track blood on the floors anymore."
"My feet are tougher now, they stopped bleeding from the roads and I don't fall or anything."
"Congratulations on mastering basic motor function." Vanitas lifted the replica's arms from below and made a floppy clapping motion, although it mostly missed its' owns hands, "Can't say the same for this guy."
"The picture is small right now, but it will grow." Naminé said in awe of her own work. She knew it wasn't great, but she couldn't help but feel like she made something special to her. "I'm going to make it bigger. I'm going to see the entire world, and all of the people, until this entire room is filled."
There was a moment of silence until she heard a body thud to the floor, silver hair sprawled around a boy like a broken marionette. Vanitas kicked the wall right next to her hand, and then smeared the wet paint as the foot lagged downward, wiping the colors from the wall.
"That's hilarious dolly," he said without any trace of humor.
"What is?"
"Sitting there in your little dark hole, drawing rainbows, making conversation with puppets, and dreaming happy things. So funny it makes me want to vomit." He wiped his feet on a clean spot on Naminé's dress, like he had stepped in something unpleasant.
"You can come with me if you like," Naminé offered, to which Vanitas paused, then barked out a dry laugh.
"That's tempting but I'll pass. So will you. Let me ask you a question, if I could leave this place, do you think I would have stayed? And most importantly, if someone like me can't leave…
"What makes you think you can?"
Naminé didn't know what to say, she instead she tried to fix Vanitas' blotch. She didn't care what he said or what he did, she had to finish her picture.
-x-
She spent the entire night painting, she didn't think she really needed sleep. The replica and Vanitas never seemed to anyway. But nights on Destiny Plain were beyond dark, they were almost perfect blackness. There was no electricity in their small house, and when she looked through the window, none of the houses in the distance turned theirs on either. Even the stars didn't seem to shine as bright there.
The end result was the picture turning to more of a mess. Naminé considered the manic splatters. It didn't bother her a lick. She got up and stretched, her pale limbs felt strange after stuck in one position for the entire night, now they hung awkwardly, and tingling feelings ran up her legs like white noise. It almost made her feel like her body was alive.
She was out of paint and inspiration, so she turned to the mute replica and told him, "I'll be right back."
When she left the house, she noticed Vanitas slipped out the door behind her. As she made her way down the hill, the second pair of footsteps shadowed her, the footsteps sounded sneaky and light.
"Why are you following me?"
"I value your friendship. Can't we hang out like all the normal kids?"
Naminé huffed and walked a little faster now. But Vanitas had longer legs, and Naminé was no athlete.
"So what are we doing today? Shopping? Making friendship bracelets? Gossiping? We could try braiding hair, but I'm clumsy with my hands. Might accidently rip out your hair or something." He tossed his hands through Naminé's hair, stringy with paint.
Coming their way on the old path was a small, slow moving tractor, being driven by a small, slow moving man, yawning in the daybreak. The family owned machine clunked by, it must have been years old, well used and loved.
"Vanitas?"
"…"
"Vanitas?"
She frowned at his silence.
"Vanitas!"
"Sorry, just wanted to hear you call my name. It gives me butterflies in my stomach. Or was that worms?"
Naminé ignored his taunting, "I only see adults. Where are all the kids our age?"
"I guess they'd be at school. It's almost summer vacation now that I think about it," Vanitas said shrugging and Naminé was surprised at a straight forward answer.
"Or they just all killed themselves in some sort of masochistic ritual of awkward dominance. I think they called it puberty."
There it was.
Without warning Vanitas jumped on the small tractor.
"Look no hands," he said amused at himself, then kicked the steering wheel a sharp left, forcing it to tumble into the rice patty. He flipped off laughing like a demon, watching his work clutter out in a mess. Naminé felt sorry for the old red headed farmer, but decided that while Vanitas was distracted by driving random passersbys mad, she could slip by unnoticed.
School. She knew the building somewhere on the edge of town. It was a homely building of faded brick, standing short but wide and proud. When she walked in, she was met with a blast of cool air, it felt welcoming from the sticky heat of the day. She plodded down the glossy floors, clean except the occasional streak of shoes.
She wandered idly by the hallway, it had been fun to look at all the trinkets, nonsense items, and thingamabobers in the stores, but walking down the halls of the highschool felt different. Her eyes glazed over a small trophy box, almost empty except two proud "Second Place Marching Band Regional" trophies, shining gold like a cup made of munny.
Further down was a bright collage of images, they were abstracts of real life, simple shapes amateurly sewn together to make more a complex, fascinating picture. Her eyes lingered on the "Art Class Exhibit" sign in the middle.
She saw posters for students trying to run for something called the student council, declaring their name and faces. Some rooms had posters pasted on their doors, maps, pictures of far away places, numbered charts; she tried to figure out the pattern on the numbered charts but she didn't even know where to begin. It was like each room had a personality of its own.
A shadow flickered in her periphery, but when she looked up she saw nothing. Curious, she walked towards the door where thought she saw it. This door had a small picture on it as well, it was sequence of three images telling a short joke, of a boy and his pet tiger sliding down the snow and philosophizing about life until they ran into snowmen. She giggled at the "Calvin and Hobbes" pictures, out of all the posters on the door she enjoyed this one the most, and peered in the door hoping to find whoever drew it.
This room was filled with boys and girls her age, all facing one adult who paced around the front and wrote gibberish on a green wall. Naminé snuck in as quietly as she could, but when the door opened the adult's attention went towards her, and after a minute of scrutiny she continued on.
Naminé mimicked the other students, sliding into an empty desk and chair, her hands neatly folded in front of her. A smile peaked in her mouth as she pretended to be like the other living, breathing students, dully writing something in notebooks.
Everyone around her, she noticed, looked either frustrated or bored. They slunk down in their chairs, tapping their pencils on the desk in uneven rhythms, with their eyes glazed over. Others ignored the writing on the board and instead whispered to those next to them. Almost none of them looked as if they wanted to be there.
She wondered if it made her weird that she wanted to.
Out of all the places she visited in the town, it was this one that felt most alive. Every hallway had a reminder of someone doing something. Everyone room was a buzz of people interacting, mostly like friends, but some like enemies and even some lovers. She wanted that. She wanted to sit and listen to people teach her. She wanted to understand all the gibberish that looked like a secret code. She wanted to be bored, and then lean to her neighbor and doodle on their notebook. She wanted to learn, and be seen, and be hated and be loved.
She wanted to live too.
"Naminé?"
Her pale blond hair whipped with the turn of her head.
"Sora?" The young boy looked at her incredulously, then his eyes blue moved up and down, soaking up her image. Naminé felt a familiar heat in her face, she must have looked odd. She was shoeless, in the same dress she saw him in before, but this time stained with paint.
If he thought this was weird, he shook it off with a shrug and an easy smile.
"I didn't know you were in this class."
"Um. Not really, it's complicated."
Another dark voice joined in, "Yeah, really complicated. She's in a weird living situation if you can believe it."
If Naminé wasn't always swan pale, she was sure she would have gone even whiter. Vanitas had caught up to her, and now leaned on Sora's back to back, causing him to push the desk forward.
"Vanitas you jerk," Sora hissed, "You're going to get us in trouble."
"Nah, I'll be fine. I always manage to slip under the radar. It's like I'm invisible or something."
Naminé looked from Sora, to Vanitas, to Sora again. She didn't think she liked the idea of them being acquainted, it made the hairs on her neck rise. It was even odder that Sora didn't react to Vanitas's facelessness, and she wondered what they looked like to him. Maybe people couldn't really comprehend them, like looking through dirt stained, foggy window.
"How do you know Naminé?" Sora asked, reflecting the question in her mind.
"Her?" he said in a bored drawl, draping his arm around Sora's neck, "She's my whore."
Sora choked on air.
"I'll let you borrow her if you want, I'll even pay for it. Isn't she your type? The face I mean, looks just like-"
"Vanitas has to pay for my company otherwise he'll always be alone." Naminé wasn't sure what compelled her to say that, but it was probably because Sora looked increasingly panicked as Vanitas began to poke and prod his comfort zone. She didn't want him to be sucked in Vanitas' pace. The red from Sora's face lessened and he snickered.
Vanitas straightened his back, going to his full height and faced (faceless) her, he probably wasn't expecting that comment. Naminé wasn't either. She stared back, surprised at her own boldness as Vanitas quietly analyzed her.
Then he let out a laugh, and Naminé felt the tension ease out of her shoulders. He didn't even bother with a sarcastic retort, instead he pushed off Sora's back and began to creep around the corners of the room. He was sneaking like a thief, but Naminé knew it was just for Sora's benefit, no one else could see him anyway.
Vanitas slipped behind the teacher, and Sora was watching with baited breath, leaning so forward Naminé thought he'd fall off the edge of his seat. He didn't even notice the rest of the class wasn't reacting. Vanitas grabbed the teacher's spring jacket and wrapped it around him dramatically. Sora stifled a childish giggle.
A second later a shrill sound rang filled the rooms and the hallways, making Naminé jump out of her stiff plastic seat. Vanitas slipped through the door, the light jacket fluttering behind him. The crowd around began to stir, like they were finally jolted fully awake.
"Wait!" the adult up front barked, looking around frantically. "Which one of you stole my jacket? No one leaves until whoever stole it comes forward."
Naminé and Sora exchanged looks, Sora looked a little like a fish gaping, unsure of whether to tell on Vanitas or keep quiet for a friend.
"C'mon Ms. Kisaragi. We're going to get in trouble if we are late to our next class."
"All of you are going to be in serious trouble right now unless you guys produce my jacket."
Sora groaned, hitting his head on the desk. He turned to his other desk neighbor.
"This sucks, right Riku?"
The boy named Riku must have ignored him because Sora let out a long suffering sigh, not looking at all surprised at the slight. Naminé gasped when she got a better look at Sora's friend(enemy?). He looked exactly like the boy at home.
The same sharp features, thin lips, narrow aqua eyes, even down the hair that brushed long and silver against his lashes. He also had a glazed look about him, but unlike the other, there was still life in his eyes. This Riku must be who the boy at home was a replica of.
"Ri…ku."
Riku's head snapped to her, "What?"
Oh, he could see her too. Naminé's eyes were like a deer caught in a headlight. Real Riku was a lot more intimidating than the lifeless Replica Riku, Naminé felt like shrinking from his cutting glare, she hadn't realized how sharp his eyes were. He looked up and down at her like he was waiting for her to say something more, but when she said nothing he simply disregarded it, no longer interested.
Sora gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry. He's not really talkative, he's going through some stuff."
"O-okay."
Ms. Kisaragi was in a rage now, slamming her fist on the board and almost shouting at the kids. Naminé shrunk back even though she couldn't be seen. She wanted to talk to Sora more, but she wasn't sure she could get her voice loud enough to overshadow the noise.
Before she could say anything, in the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow like the one she spotted before. When she went to look at it, it ran from view. Sora had also been staring at it like he was in a trance. Naminé tried to follow it, leaving behind Sora who was desperately whispering for her not to get in trouble. She stopped to smile sadly at him. She wasn't going to get in trouble, she didn't exist in their world to get in trouble.
When she slipped through the door, she only saw Vanitas still wearing the teacher's jacket, surrounded by a sea of other children. The shadows must have been casted by Vanitas or them, but in the back of her mind she knew none of their shadows had been as dark and definable, and Vanitas casted no shadow.
"You should give back the jacket," she said.
Vanitas shrugged and then walked away, Naminé had a sinking feeling that he had done it on purpose to keep Sora there. She followed him, he had been standing outside the door after all. He was waiting for her.
Vanitas had habit of causing chaos no matter where he went. In Naminé's eyes, though it was all very petty. He tripped people, he broke windows, he stole small items. It wasn't anything to be in awe of, but each time he did it, he laughed like he just told the funniest joke.
For some reason, watching Vanitas go on his way causing mischief didn't scare her away, it made him look smaller. Or simpler.
Naminé followed him all the way past town, past the small tree grove, to the river that cut through the land. It wasn't a particularly large river, but it was an important one to the farm lands. Naminé stopped by the bank as Vanitas marched on.
She dipped her toe into the water, feeling cold water flow tickle her skin and flow past her. She tentatively stepped into the edge of the water. She shivered at the chill and brought her foot back up, the paint had washed away. So she stepped back in, and braced herself as she put the other foot in, letting the water push against her ankles and clean the trickling color off of her in swirls.
Naminé began to wash her hands and knees, scrubbing herself clean. Her hands grabbed the hem of her little white dress, and she pulled it over her head, the sweat clung onto the fabric as she peeled it off her clammy skin.
"What are you doing?" Vanitas said warily, he had stopped walking by and was now watching Naminé in a guarded pose.
"Cleaning," Naminé bent her knees and scrunched her dress in the torrents, she had no idea if she was doing it right. She could feel Vanitas stare at her, the combination of his gaze and the cold water splashing against her felt odd.
"Vanitas, why could Riku and Sora see us?"
"Because they are our true loves, and true love conquers all," he said dryly.
"Are we ghosts?"
"There's no such thing as ghosts, doll."
"Why don't you believe in ghosts? I mean, there's us."
"Ghosts are supposed to be spirits after people die, but when people die they are gone, there's nothing left of them. People pretend they're there for some self-comforting bullshit so they can feel like they are connected to each other. It's a way of not moving on."
Naminé didn't see the difference between ghosts and them though. How could she skeptical about things that weren't supposed to exist, when she practically didn't exist herself.
She lifted her dress to the light, stretching it out and seeing the brightness of the sun light up the fabric, still plenty of stains.
"Vanitas, what do you do when you leave by yourself?"
"Why do you keep asking all the wrong questions?"
"What's the right question, then?"
"Well, certainly not that one."
Naminé dropped her dress back in the water, watching the wet clearness run over the white. She saw her reflection in the water, her appearance wavy and distorted. Deeper into the river, she saw the reflection of the sun.
Wait. That was no reflection.
It was shimmering not at the surface but underneath, warm and bright yellow light. She remembered what Vanitas told her before, that looking into the sun for too long would make her go blind. She got the same feeling from the glimmers under the river.
Naminé stood up and tried to walk towards it, cold water splashed to her thighs as she went deeper and deeper in staggered strides, until she felt darkness wrap around the bareness of her hips and roughly haul her from her destination.
"You're going to be swept off your feet if you keep walking," Vanitas continued her to pull her away from the light.
Naminé motioned towards the sun-water, "What is that?"
Vanitas looked at the brightness, "It's piss. People do their business in rivers, and now it's literally a stream of piss."
"I don't believe you."
"Oh, school must be doing wonders for you because you're getting smarter. Good for you."
"Is that the sun?"
"How is that even possible? I think people call it," he paused considering his next words, "the lifestream."
"Lifestream," Naminé muttered. She tested the sound of it and decided she liked it, "Is this where dead people go?"
"You got it."
"So this is where life ends?"
"And where it begins. From piss water."
Vanitas still had his arm around her hips; she leaned on his cold chest and her skin felt the thin twists of the clothes, dress still clutched in her hand. He didn't push her away.
"Vanitas, if living things come from the lifestream, then where do we come from?"
His arm slipped from her and she looked back at him as he started to laugh, the same laugh he made when he was causing trouble. He put the teacher's coat around her shoulders, covering her exposed, pale body.
"You're finally asking the right questions. You are getting smarter."
But he didn't give her an answer.
-x-
Normally, you can't get me to shut up but I don't have much to say about this. Even though it probably needs a lot of explaining. The tone for a lot of this was originally inspired by the anime Mushishi, although it's not as brilliant or calm as the show so it morphed into something else. If you ever want to watch something that's equal parts haunting and poetic, that would be it. I was listening to Oskar Schuster's Sneeuwland for a lot of it.
Thanks for all who reviewed and followed!
Sin's Punishment: Yeah, it was suppose to be surreal and melancholic, but ended up odd. I don't particularly mind because it's a fun write. Mostly in part for Vanitas, when you get a character as over the top as he is, he pretty much makes the scene himself. I bounced back and forth with how much of a sociopath I wanted to write him as, he's best a murderous narcissistic psycho in the games, but for the story I made him more of a prankster with a disregard of the people around him. Thank you for the review, and pointing out the typos :
E- Thnks for the review. I made this fic mostly because I think Namine and Vanitas would be an interesting dynamic. Considering Vanitas need to prod and break people, and Namine's need to save them and natural empathy, watching them play off each other and the people around them was pretty much the basis of this fic.