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Chapter four

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"Tell me about your mother, Namine."

Everything was white. The walls were white, the lights were white, even the gentle-looking woman with the clipboard was wearing a white doctor's coat. Six-year-old Namine felt temporarily blinded by all the whiteness.

"I love my mommy," the tiny girl answered, scribbling away in her sketchbook with crayons that had been provided by the nice doctors. "She teaches me how to draw pretty things."

The woman deftly jotted something down on the clipboard and then smiled. "Do you like to draw?"

Namine nodded vehemently, her loose locks of golden hair flopping against her porcelain face. "It's my favorite."

"What kind of things do you like to draw?" The woman moved from her chair and knelt beside Namine on the floor to hover over her latest sketch. The picture was simple and childlike, but far more refined than what most first graders would produce. On the page, a sketch of what appeared to be Namine and her mother were holding hands, smiling, outside of her house. The doctor tilted her head. "Where's your father?"

The little blonde ignored the question and continued scribbling out a few clouds above the roof.

"Namine," the woman tried again, still gentle. "Tell me about your father."

Her voice was small and distant when she finally spoke down into her sketchbook. "Daddy scares me…"

"Namine," the woman pressed with more concern plaguing her tone than in her previous attempts. "Listen to me. Did your father ever try to hurt you?"

Silence.

"Namine."

Again, silence.

"Namine…"

"… Namine?"

The girl was suddenly dragged back to reality when she heard her name called. She blinked her faraway eyes and glanced around the rooftop, catching Riku's concerned stare from where he sat outside his window across the way. Namine looked down at the sketchpad resting in her lap. The current page was blank, but her hand still held her pencil poised above the paper.

"You okay? You seem distracted," said Riku.

It had somehow become an unspoken routine for the pair to meet on their rooftop hideout when the sun went down. Sometimes they would chat cordially beneath the stars, but other times not at all. Namine would always bring her sketchpad and Riku was content to lay back and listen as she worked. They both enjoyed the comfortable silence, but, even more so, they enjoyed each other's company.

"Oh, sorry…" Namine mumbled, giving her empty page a confused stare. She couldn't quite remember when she had zoned out, but it must've been sooner than she thought if she hadn't even begun a sketch. "I guess I just got lost in my thoughts."

"About?" He asked.

Namine didn't have an answer. Instead, she set her sketchpad aside and stated simply, "I have something for you."

Riku sat up attentively. "Something for me?"

With a small smile gracing her lips, Namine disappeared through her window. Riku hardly had time to wonder before she returned again, this time with a piece of paper rolled up and tucked under her arm. The blonde carefully crept to the edge of her roof — which almost made contact with Riku's — and held out the paper. Riku, still bewildered, met her at the edge and accepted the gift. He kept a cautious eye on Namine as he unrolled the paper.

The canvas in his hands was suddenly filled with a rich burst of color — dark, earthy tones that were blended and shaded to perfection. It didn't take Riku long to realize that the masterpiece in front of him was his own house, the exact view that Namine had from her rooftop. Every line, curve, and shadow was uncanny to the original. The inky black sky on the paper was the same one that drifted above them every night.

"I finished the sketch of your house," Namine explained when she noticed Riku's eyes lingering a bit too long on the paper. "You asked to see it when I was done."

Riku could recall that request from their first conversation. Though, truthfully, he hadn't expected such a stunning result. "Yeah, but I never thought you'd let me keep it," he said. "I can't accept this —"

Namine shook her head. "Don't be silly. I want you to have it."

He wanted to protest. Something as spectacular as her drawing should be hanging in a museum, not Riku's bedroom wall. The boy finally looked up from the paper while he said, "You really have a gift, Namine."

She grinned shyly. "Well, I've been drawing ever since I was a child."

"No, I mean," Riku paused, forming his words carefully. "More than just the artwork. It's you. You can see the beauty in everything — even my old, run-down house."

"We see what we want to see," Namine replied softly.

The corner of Riku's mouth twitched upward as he began rolling up the paper once more. "Thanks, Namine. It's really great."

"Thank you, Riku," she insisted. "It's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Anytime."


Axel was leaning back in his chair, idly scrolling through his phone, when Roxas came practically skipping through the door of their creative writing class. The redhead side-eyed him strangely while he settled into the seat beside him and turned to face Axel with a chipper, "Morning!"

"Who's the clever bastard who snuck crack into your cereal this morning?" Axel quirked a suspicious brow.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you're giving Mr. Rogers a run for his money," the older boy smirked. "Don't get me wrong — it warms my little heart to see you so high on life, but — what's that all about?"

There was a dreamy gleam in Roxas' eyes as he leaned toward Axel. "Well, there's this girl —"

"Ah," Axel interjected with a well-intentioned eye roll. "There usually is."

" —and we went out for coffee yesterday. I dunno if it was actually a date or not. I mean, I paid, but friends pay for coffee sometimes, too, so… Oh, god, I hope I wasn't giving her the wrong message…"

Axel chuckled as he put a reassuring hand on Roxas' shoulder. "As touching and amusing as your inner turmoil is, you gotta stop freaking out. A catch like you? Your mystery girl is probably just as loopy as you are."

Roxas snorted skeptically. "I'm a catch?"

"Yeah, y'know, in a One Direction kind of way."

They both started snickering, which was a stark contrast to the rest of the class' utter apathy. Roxas swatted his friend's hand off his shoulder before rifling through his bag. "So did you finish the poetry assignment?"

Axel slid a fresh sheet of paper across his desktop and rested his hands proudly behind his head. "Read it and weep, my friend. Edgar Allen Poe can kiss my poetic ass."

Roxas picked up the paper and scanned over the neatly scribed poem:

"As bright as the setting sun

Rising over the horizon.

A gleam, a flicker,

Of eternal red…"

The blond glanced over at Axel, who had returned to fiddling absentmindedly with his phone. "Axel," Roxas said to catch his friend's attention. "This is really good."

Axel peered up and noticed the earnestness that was so evident on the other boy's features. With a playful huff, he snatched the paper back. "No need to sound so shocked, buddy."

"You know what I mean," Roxas countered defensively. "I just never realized you took this class so seriously."

The senior shrugged. "You're not the only one who signed up out of interest, y'know."

Roxas couldn't hold back a grin. Finally he'd found someone who shares his appreciation for the written word. "So you wanna be a writer someday?"

"Maybe."

"Well, is that what you wanna study after you graduate?"

"If I was actually planning on going to college, then it's something I might consider," Axel waved a hand dismissively, but Roxas continued to stare with wide eyes.

"You don't wanna go to college?" The younger boy wondered intently. "At all?"

"Did I stutter?" Axel scoffed, less playful than before. "But if you're so eager to change my mind, then maybe you've got an extra thirty grand lying around to lend me for tuition."

Roxas' tone lowered in volume, but not in conviction as he reminded his friend, "They give out scholarships. You're smart, Axel, you could get a full ride if you actually decided to apply."

"Hey, cut the guidance counselor crap, alright?" The redhead allowed his defiant scowl to lift into a grin as he nudged Roxas with his elbow. "I was just starting to like you."

And with that, the mood was lightened. Roxas broke into a smile of his own and nudged Axel right back. "Oh, thanks!"

They were so wrapped up in their amusement that they failed to notice Mr. Liebowitz shuffling into the room with his usual underwhelming presence. The slightly disheveled man shot the boys an ineffective glare before taking his post behind the desk where he began droning on to the rest of the unenthused class.

"Come back to the lunch table today," Axel requested. "It's like a damn graveyard over there with those mood killers I call pals."

Roxas nodded. "Yeah, I think I can stop by."

"Stop by?" The redhead mocked. "That's all I get now? Gee, this new lady friend of yours must really have your balls in a vise grip already —"

"Shut up!" Roxas groaned as he flushed as vibrantly as Axel's hair. He swung a hand at the boy next to him, which only seemed to fuel Axel's amusement even more.

A monotone grumble could be heard from the front of the room. "Mr. Eberhardt, Mr. Thorne. Do you two need to be separated?"

Although Mr. Leibowitz's threat failed to muster up any sort of intimidation, Roxas still snapped his attention forward. Axel, however, put on his most smug grin.

"Nope," the older boy chirped. "Carry on, grandpa, we'll try to behave ourselves."

Roxas slinked down in his chair, trying to appear as invisible as possible while Axel carried out his antics. Mr. Leibowitz scrunched up his wrinkled face. "Well, maybe an afternoon in detention will help you out with that."

"As the unofficial poster child for Destiny High's detention center, I'm actually offended that you think I haven't already been written up today."

"Then how about I save your other teachers some time and write you up for tomorrow instead?"

"If it makes you happy, gramps, go right ahead. Not like I have any other plans."

As Mr. Leibowitz turned around to rummage through his desk for a detention slip, Roxas gave Axel a look and whispered a vicious, "What the hell are you doing?"

"It's called having a little fun," Axel murmured under his breath. "You should try it sometime."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Right. Thanks, but no thanks —"

In one swift motion, Axel grabbed his poetry assignment, crumpled it up into a tight ball, and then chucked it toward the front of the room. Roxas gawked when the paper bounced off the top of Mr. Leibowitz's lowered head.

"Roxas!" Axel gasped with so much exaggeration that the other boy could've laughed if he weren't already so mortified. "I appreciate you trying to defend my honor, but there's no need to attack a poor man of his age!"

"What?" Roxas demanded. "But I didn't —"

"Mr. Eberhardt," their disgruntled teacher announced as he reached for a second detention slip. "You can join your partner in crime tomorrow afternoon."

Axel was still keeping up his righteous charade as he piped up, "Thank you, sir. Justice is served!"

"Are you serious?" Roxas' forehead met his desktop with a muted thud. "I didn't even do anything."

"That's exactly my point, amigo," the older boy reached over to rustle Roxas' messy mop of blond hair. "Life's too short to go through it unnoticed. Got it memorized?"

He lifted his head just enough to send a narrowed, unamused glare in his friend's direction.

Axel just winked.


The McCarthy household wasn't situated atop a grassy hill like Kairi's mansion, but, to Sora, it was home. The quaint cottage in the lower district of the Island was barely big enough to comfortably hold Sora and his parents — and his yellow lab, Pluto. But what they lacked in space, the McCarthy family made up for in warm hospitality and unflinching optimism.

Though — in Sora, Kairi, and Riku's opinion — the most redeeming detail about the cottage was the basement, which had been expertly designed to host some of the most amazing sleepovers.

The final moments of The Breakfast Club played softly in the background while Sora dug his hand into the popcorn bowl. Kairi sat beside him amongst their giant nest of pillows and blankets with a collection of small seashells spread out before her. She held a single piece of cotton string between her fingers and carefully selected only the best shells to slide onto the thread.

"If I were in The Breakfast Club, I'd want to be Judd Nelson," Sora decided as he flopped back onto a pile of blankets. "You could be Molly Ringwald and Riku could be Emilio Estevez, since he's the jock."

Kairi made a face. "Really? I always pegged Riku as the broody bad guy."

"I can be a bad guy, too, you know," he argued with a slight pout that did nothing to prove his point.

The girl took one look at her friend in his red heart boxers, white tube socks, and oversized Green Day t-shirt. She giggled, "Sora McCarthy, you don't have a single bad bone in your body."

"Wanna bet?" He asked, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

"No," Kairi pulled her attention away from her craft long enough to toss a popcorn kernel at his head. "Haven't you learned your lesson yet? A bet is basically how I wrangled you into this whole ball thing, remember?"

Even as he lay atop a sea of soft bedding, Sora could feel nearly every muscle in his body tense up. In a few short days, he'd be accompanying Kairi to Destiny Island's biggest social event of the season, and the reality of it all felt like a million pound weight nosediving into the pit of his stomach. Sora, who could swim miles out into the ocean and scale palm trees with ease, was shaken by a debutante ball.

"Of course I remember," he mumbled. "It's all I've been thinking about for days."

Kairi nudged his leg with her foot. "Hey, parties are supposed to be fun."

"Yeah, but it's just like Riku said — this isn't a normal party," Sora quickly scrambled up to a cross-legged position, turning to Kairi with an expression that she rarely saw plaguing the boy's face — an expression of uncertainty. "What if I use the wrong fork when I eat or step on your billion dollar shoes when we're dancing? You're really gonna regret inviting me when I make both of us look like losers."

"Since when do we care about being losers?" Kairi demanded as she, too, turned to face her friend so that they sat knee to knee. "Sora, these kids aren't the kind of people you want to waste time trying to impress, trust me. All they have is a lot of money — their parents' money. I don't want you to be anyone but yourself when we go to this ball."

Some of the sparkle was slowly beginning to make its way back into Sora's eyes, but before he could say anything in response, Kairi reached for her string of seashells and tied the two ends of the thread together. Then she grabbed Sora's hand and slipped the newly formed bracelet onto his wrist.

"It's a good luck charm," she explained. "I made one for Riku, too. It'll help you find the courage to get through this party and whatever else scares you, mister tough guy. And it'll remind you that out of all the other dates my mom would've lined up for me, I'd still choose you."

Their hands were still touching. Sora couldn't seem to stop staring at the way their fingers tangled together and when he finally looked up, he noticed that their faces were mere inches apart. Kairi's eyes were twinkling a deep blue color even in the dim light of the basement and god, her hands were still crazy soft.

The next thing they both knew, Sora leaned forward to close the remaining gap lingering between their lips.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. Five seconds? A minute? Time ceased to exist.

But he did know that Kairi's lips were just as soft as her hands.

Time resumed again when she started gently pushing against Sora's shoulders to separate their mouths. The girl's stare was wide and unblinking, her cheeks painted with a rosy hue. "Sora…"

"I…" the elation bubbling in the boy's chest quickly turned to dread as he caught sight of Kairi's expression. "I'm sorry, Kairi, I don't — I don't know why I just did that, I just…"

Her lips formed a tight, straight line across her face, seemingly at a loss for words.

"… I'm just an idiot, I know I am," Sora prattled on desperately. "Kairi?"

"I think we should just go to sleep," she finally replied, her voice soft and distant. Sora's stomach flipped with unease as he watched Kairi slowly retreat to her side of the pillow nest. She laid down to face the opposite wall, curling into herself defensively.

Her back rose and fell with every uneven breath. It was silent, save for the movie credits that still scrolled across the TV screen. "Kairi?" He tried again.

There was no reply. Whether it was because she had already fallen asleep or because she was ignoring him, Sora didn't know.

Instead of battling with his thoughts, he scooted over to his side — making sure to give Kairi plenty of space — and laid himself down for what was bound to be a very restless sleep.

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to be continued

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A/N: Is that the vague beginnings of an actual plot I see? GASP! Seriously, guys, I promise things will pick up soon. Stay tuned!