ah, well.

you see the cliché now?

heehee.

Kingdom Hearts? Not mine.

(A Christmas Cliché)

II: planning her downfall

- x -

It was getting out of hand. Christmas vacation was only a week away, on the 15th. God knows how the heck I'd keep in touch with Naminé when school was out; she hadn't given me her cellphone number yet. All I knew was her house number.

Which is exactly the reason why I was here, sitting on the kitchen table of my apartment, with the cordless phone cradled in my shoulder.

Calling each other was something that couples did, right?

My finger hovered over the buttons, and, without thinking, I dialled a number.

Only thing was, the number I dialled was not Naminé's, but of one of my closest friends, who I got to know in my time in the streets.

"Hello?" I asked cautiously into the phone when somebody picked it up.

"Dude! Who're you looking for? If you're looking for tattoos, Larxene's not here, so just call back, I think she's gone out and---"

"Hey, Xigbar," I cut in. I relaxed my shoulders, and started swinging my feet below the table. Xigbar was my 'pretend' older brother; he was the one who tipped me off on all the skateboarding stints in the mainland. And it was usually in his condominium that we hung out. "It's me, BHK."

"Roxas, m'man!"

Sounds of cheering in the background. I had to hold the phone at least two inches from my ear, lest I suffer permanent damage to my hearing. "Uh, Xiggy..."

"Been's some time since you last called, little dude!"

I rolled my eyes. "I called last week."

"Oh. Riiiighht..."

"So anyway, is Axel there?" I paused, scratching my head. "I kinda...need to talk to him."

Axel was really one of my closest friends. He was the one who forged my ID so that I could work. He did skateboard too, but he was more of a daredevil motorcyclist. The Flaming Pyro, he was dubbed, for his notorious reputation of working the engine of every motorcycle he got until it burst into flames.

He also let me stay at his place for the last week before I found my current apartment. Axel would stay up all night if I asked him to, just to talk. His father left him and his mother, and his mom herself was a junkie, so he kind of understood my family situation.

"Sure. Hold for a bit."

I heard him holler Axel's name, and three seconds later, his voice filtered through.

"Hey, Rox. What's up with you?"

I took a deep breath, and told him about the bet, not knowing how he'd react. Part of me knew he'd just about kill me for agreeing to such a stupid bet, but another part of me knew that he'd be even more excited than I am about finishing the bet. The guy had a twisted sense of justice sometimes.

I left out the part with the portrait, however. The last thing I needed was a sermon about hurting feelings and stuff.

"...and now I have no idea how to get to second base," I finished desperately, tracing circles on the wood of my kitchen table. "Help me?"

He suddenly burst into laughter. "Wow, Roxas, I never thought you'd be so daring. Well, you're just in luck, 'cause I had been dared to do that once, but to third base."

"You were?"

"Yeah. All you have to do is ask her out for a date. Then you get her drunk enough. Girls are easy that way."

I grimaced involuntarily, thinking about how I'll get Naminé to drink. I don't think Naminé has ever drunk anything remotely alcoholic in her entire life, nor will she ever. Hmm. This was another challenge.

"Then you offer her a ride home, and then go wild with her in the car. Never been easier. You bring her back to your place, and when she wakes up with a massive hangover, you take care of her. She'll be grateful. As an added plus, she probably won't remember anything."

"Wow. How'd you know?"

"Experience."

Ah. Well, that explains a lot. Knowing Axel, he's probably done that to twenty girls already. I sighed resignedly, racking my brain on how to get her drunk. As I absentmindedly stared around the kitchen, my eyes fell on a medicine bottle lying on its side, on top of the refrigerator.

"I got it," I grinned at myself.

Axel chuckled into the phone. "Careful to not let anyone notice she's drunk. Y'know, people might suspect."

"Yeah, yeah...thanks, Ax."

"Anytime, Roxas. See you around---"

A thought occured to me, and I spoke before Axel could hang up. "Axel? Do I know the girl who you've been dared to?"

He paused, and laughed softly. "It was Larxene."

"Oh." He sure was lucky. "Thanks. 'Bye."

"'bye."

I put the phone back into its cradle, and started planning how I would do this. I had to ask her out before Christmas; it was the benchmark for my deadline.

I spent the whole night pondering about how I would pull this off. I searched for my palmcorder, and checked if it was still working. Then I rummaged around, trying to find a recordable cd. The next hours I spent wondering how I'd record the deed; I didn't have a car, only a motorcycle. Hm. My apartment was pretty close to the café; I could probably bring her to my place without too much trouble.

Even before I fell asleep, it was what I had been thinking about. If Riku quadrupled my money, I'd have enough for two years. And two years was a long time; if I was lucky, I'd even be able to buy the apartment instead of just renting it.

I remembered something just before I fell asleep.

Larxene was Axel's fiancée.

And I somehow knew Axel had not gone through the dare.

- x -

I hated Literature class, that I knew for a fact. And Literature class never liked me back, either.

So it came as of no consequence that when I saw it written on the blackboard that class had been cancelled, I was overjoyed. And overjoyed was probably an understatement.

I immediately rushed out of the room, earning strange stares from my classmates. Hah. Stare all they want; is it wrong to be so happy?

Taking a glance at the large overhead clock in one of the empty classrooms I passed, I remembered that at this time, Naminé had her Arts class, which was on the other side of the building. Sighing, I heaved up my backpack and traipsed to the said classroom, steeling myself for another encounter with the pale girl. If I was going to get her comfortable on our date, I had to get close to her. And being around her constantly was probably the only way.

I needed the money, anyway.

I stopped in front of the door labeled 207, pulled it open, and stepped inside.

Naminé had never told me she was taking Theatre Arts. I thought, with her skill in drawing, she would be taking up Drawing Arts.

I gazed around in awe at the large mock-theatre room, where the most of the class was seated at the back. The professor, a tall brunet known by the name Leon Leonhart, was sitting onstage, with his feet dangling off the edge. He was randomly picking out index cards from the pile he had in his hand, and everyone he called had to read some lines from their theatrics manual.

I crept around the back, searching for a familiar mop of flaxen hair. She was seated somewhere in the middle rows but beside the center aisle. Even here nobody sat next to her. I bit my lip and leant into the wall at the very back, watching the back of her head.

"Ivalice," Sir Leon called, waving a rectangular piece of card. "Your turn. Read the next poem. With feelings, and proper intonation."

Naminé glanced around, and she stood up. She cleared her throat, and I could see her fingers were trembling as they clutched the manual. The people behind her started whispering, and for a short moment, I felt ashamed of her. Why was she so nervous? It was just a few lines, no biggie.

"Thinking of you, wherever you are..." she started reading, with a clear, musical voice heavily layered with a British accent.

I stared at her.

I realized I had not even talked to her enough to notice her accent.

British?

She continued reading, and for a few seconds, I couldn't do anything but listen. It was weird but amazing at the same time. The words rolled right off her tongue in a unique way. I guess it's obvious that I have never heard a British speak right next to me before.

But soon enough, the people behind her were starting to whisper once more. It suddenly struck me: her classmates were repeating her words, but they were twisting the accent out of proportion. They were even doing gestures that they thought were fit for her voice. In short, they were making fun of her.

And in a short while, I was quietly laughing along with them. They were hilarious; the way they imitated the shaking of her hands and even the slight tilt to her head whenever she read her lines. Those guys were good.

The bell rung, and she was suddenly cut short. I heaved a relieved sigh; anymore time, and I would've burst out into laughter. The people stood up and started filing out of the room, and I snickered when the group who was making fun of her passed. They gave a snicker in return. Sighing once more, I made my way down to where Naminé was still standing up.

Ah, I told myself. One date, and Naminé's history. This was one thing I could make fun of her even ---

She turned around, came up to me with her head bowed, and she leant into my shirt and cried.

Naminé cried.

I have never seen her show anything but a blank expression or a small smile before.

But now, she was crying.

I had never felt more guilty in my entire life.

She continued sobbing uncontrollably, clutching my uniform into closed fists. I felt it was my duty to wrap my arms around her, so I did. Over the top of her head I could see Sir Leon frown, and shake his head.

She was still crying, but there was suddenly more wheeze than sob, more gasp than tears. Naminé's knees buckled and I immediately knelt. She was rasping for air now, sounding more like a dying person than anything.

I could recognize an asthma attack anywhere.

I fumbled into my pockets for my own inhaler, and I gently placed it into her partly-open mouth, shaking her so that she'd remain coherent. "Breathe in, Naminé," I paused as she took one breath, held it in, and breathed out. She repeated it one more time, and after it, she burst into fresh sobs.

"Stop crying," I whispered into her ear, pressing her face sideways into my chest and rubbing her back in what I hoped was comforting circles. "Please, stop crying."

The concern I felt was genuine, I was sure of that.

- x -

"My family moved here just as I was about to start college," she said quietly, her head bowed as she kept in synchronized step with me. "I didn't know that I was the only British around for miles. On the first day I tried to make friends and everything, but because of my accent, people thought I was a highbrow and a snob."

I stifled a wince. I clearly knew that if given the chance, I would be one of those people.

"So I kept quiet instead, and played along. I took everything in stride. It was better to be alone then have friends who would stab you in the back," Naminé smiled sadly, before continuing in her British accent. "Besides, I'm used to being alone. Mother and Father were rarely home. I never got really close to my nana. I taught myself how to draw and how to become better at it."

This was getting harder and harder by the minute. The drawing she had given me was crumpled already at the bottom of my backpack; I had not given it a second thought after I had called Axel. It struck me how ungrateful I was.

"I kept asking my parents when we were moving back to London, and they told me it would be during Christmas break, until --- "

"Roxas! Hey...uh..." Riku trailed off, still holding the door to the swimming pool area open. He was alternating a stare between me and Naminé, before running a hand through his already-wet hair. "Well. See you inside."

He let go of the door, and I turned to Naminé. "You were saying...?"

She shook her head, staring at her feet. "It's nothing. You go ahead and be with your friends."

"Oh. Okay...I'll see you around, then?" I asked, averting my gaze.

"That would be fine," she replied, and to my surprise, she reached for my hand and squeezed it. Sincere gratefulness was in her voice. "Thank you for saving me."

I could almost hear the unspoken line, in more ways than one.

"Anytime," I managed to choke out, watching as she whirled around on her heels and walked off, drawing her hair over her shoulder and leaving the unmistakable scent of vanilla behind. Huh? As far as I know, Naminé didn't even wear perfume...

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I pushed the double doors open and flung my bag to the nearest bench. Riku hoisted himself out of the water and propped his elbows up on the edge of the pool. I growled at him and collapsed on the tiles, leaning on the benches as I did.

"Well?" he asked.

I bared my teeth.

He slicked the silver hair on his face backwards, and regarded me with a smirk and two devious aquamarine orbs. "Looks like I'll be getting some extra money this Christmas..."

"You wish," I retorted, just as Sora and Tidus surfaced. They probably held one of their hold-their-breath-underwater training.

"We wish what?" Sora asked, wide-eyed. "Whoa! You finally backed off the bet?"

Riku dunked Sora before the brunet could react.

Tidus rolled his eyes, and pulled himself out of the water. He walked over to the bench next to me and picked up a towel, starting to dry his hair with it. "I can tell you're having second thoughts, Roxas."

"I'm not," I said stubbornly, folding my arms. "I was just trying to figure out how I'd do it, that's all. BHK never backs down from a dare, Tidus."

"That's the problem," he said quietly, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, heading in the direction of the locker rooms. "You don't have to be BHK all the time. You've already proven your point."

"Wha---"

"RIKU! YOU JERK! I ALMOST DIED!"

"Sora! Calm down!"

"I. Almost. Died!"

"Roxas! Lend me a pen, will you, so Sora can actually almost die!"

I pillowed my head onto my arms, willing the incoming headache to go away and leave me alone. Instead, I set myself on perfecting the date thing; everything must go without a hitch. And tomorrow, Riku would be handing me the money instead of vice-versa.

I smiled involuntarily.

- x -

"Hello? Good evening...may I please speak to Naminé?"

"In a moment," the voice said. I took a deep breath, mentally steeling myself. This was no big deal. I was just going to invite her to dinner, right? No biggie...considering the fact that in the eighteen years that I had been on this earth, I have never asked somebody out to dinner.

Not to mention that after dinner, I was supposed to...well...uh...make out with my date. Without her knowing. God, life sucked.

Think of the money, I told myself. The money. And Riku's face after.

"Hello?"

"Oh! Hi, Nam," I managed to choke out, almost dropping the phone at the sound of her voice.

"Well, good evening, Roxas," she said formally, but I could almost imagine the small smile playing on her lips right now. "Why've you called?"

"Uh..." I hesitated. Was I really going to do this? "Are you busy tonight?"

A pause. "I don't think so."

"Well, may I take you out to dinner tonight?"

I swallowed painfully. My fingers felt numb against the plastic of the cordless phone, and I ran a hand nervously through my hair. Naminé had paused longer, probably taking her time to consider it. After all, I had only known her for more than a week. Who was I for her to trust?

"Of course, Roxas. Anything for you."

Somehow, my stomach clenched even more painfully as she said those words. A question echoed through my mind as we made arrangements for us to meet later tonight.

Would she really do anything for me? Even let me get to second base with her?

I sighed, and started to prepare. I mounted the camcorder in a discreet corner of my bedroom, took out a medicine bottle, and started to find something to wear.

- x -

ah. Roxas, you jerk.

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