Oh, hey guys! I know, I should've updated a long time ago. It's been well over a month. I've just kind of lost it, for a brief moment. And, anyway, I've just been busy with my outside life. Yes, it's incredible right? I do indeed have somewhat of a life. Rest assured, said life is slowly deteriorating back to fanfiction :D . All is well in the world.
I'm not too thrilled with this chapter. It's back to Kairi's POV. Originally this was going to be the last chapter, but I decided to write another. AND THEN THAT'S IT. Thank you, thank you for all the reviews, story alerts, and favorite story alerts! That's just so... ah.. I get all fuzzy inside just thinking about it. And I'll get better about responding to PM's!
Random things the TA-PK feels like mentioning:
-I'm still in Post Glee Depression. I can't even listen to "Don't Stop Believin'" unless I'm prepared for a mental breakdown. Sad stuff.
-I'm still going to marry Dianna Agron. I regret nothing.
That is all. Enjoy! (apologies for any typos and such..and yada yada).
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Chapter 10
Come on skinny love what happened here
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You know that feeling you get when you know something really bad is about to happen? Something so bad, but you just stand there and watch it all play out? And when it is actually happening, it doesn't even feel real. It feels like you're looking in from an open box. As if the contents of the box were some kind of alternate world you weren't a part of, yet there's some link bonding you back to the events occurring in that box.
And when it's over you wish none of it ever happened. Because all you can think about is how things were before. Before all the things that are making your life a living hell happened. Before everything.
The blistering night air is chilling as I burst through the door. I can hear sirens down the street. The harsh breeze beats against my bear arms, as I try to rub some warmth into them. My breathing is hard and ragged. I can see it plume out in short puffs. I internally scoff at not bringing the sweater out with me.
I forgot to bring Sora's letterman. Sora. A dull sting forms in the pit of my stomach as I think of the brunet. A brief glimpse of his cheery smile flits through the back of my mind.
I abandoned him as well. It's a pity how dispensable as a jacket he seemed to me. It's pathetic, almost. And yet that familiar feeling of guilt never passes though me.
"Kairi!" An all too familiar voice hisses out from front porch. I whip around in an instant. There standing on the landing is someone I never thought I'd ever see again.
"N-Naminé?" I blurt out in shock. She staggers towards me, and that's when I notice she's trying to drag another unconscious blond with her. Recognition washes through me, draining the careful concrete wall I've put up. My stunned expression turns sour in less than a second. The sting that initially formed in my stomach explodes tenfold like a fourth of July festival.
Naminé grunts uncomfortably, lifting his arm over her shoulder. His head lolls to the side, and for one horrifying second he looks dead. Her blue eyes glow like a cat's in the dark moonlight. They're beseeching, and despite the resistance I've been trying to build, the look leaves a terrifying chill down my spine.
I swallow thickly, as I continue to stare at her, rooted to the spot. She tugs on his arm again. His head lolls forward, and I catch a glimpse of a darkening blotch on the back of his perfect blond hair. Instantly I feel a painful lurch deep in the pit of my stomach.
Before I can stop it, the memories of the glass liquor bottle shattering, the low groan, and the uncomfortable thudding sound as he hit the floor floods through my brain. Riku's satisfied expression and his pained frown mars my mind. And it won't leave –
"Kairi."
Naminé's voice pulls me away from the event that happened mere minutes ago. My gaze travels back to hers, and from the way she looks at me, I have a feeling she can read my thoughts. I take in her face all at once, savoring the calculating look she's shooting me. Because it's rare, and I might not get to see it again. I might not get see her – this probably isn't even real.
"Help me." She whispers.
It's such a simple statement, even in the simple manner of carrying the weight with her, but it holds so much meaning. Especially with the way her eyes are boring into mine imploring me – as if she were asking for something else.
I hesitate. The sirens scream into my ear and soon I see the bright red and blue lights appear. Naminé's eyes dart towards the oncoming cop cars, then flicker back towards me. My attention moves to Roxas as his head drops further downward, revealing more of the back of his head. It's coated with a layer of blood, dripping down his pale neck. Immediately I can feel the surge of guilt beginning to bubble in my chest, but I quickly intake pushing the feeling away.
"Kairi, please," she says urgently. I relent, and step towards her. She gives me the same calculating look. It's way too personal and way too familiar that, for a second, I'm unnerved. She's reading me. It just seems surreal and dreamlike that she's looking at me like that, that she's even here. "Come on."
I inhale, blinking rapidly, before I grab Roxas's arm and shift some of his weight on me. I hear Naminé sigh in relief, before we begin our trek.
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The three of us come to a stop by a bright silver BMW. It shines annoyingly in the darkened area around down the street. I recognize the car immediately. I look at the blonde, who glances at the car with a surly expression.
"I wanted to take the train," she mutters, opening the back door. She struggles, as she leads me to lug Roxas in the back seat. I don't even cringe when I see his head bang against the door handle. "But my dad made me bring this monster with me."
She slams the door, as if for emphasis, and walks around to the driver's seat.
"Get in." She says, before getting inside the car herself. I watch her mutely through the window, my eyes flickering to the unconscious blond in the back seat. I breathe in silently, and get in.
It's a quiet drive – almost an awkward drive. I feel a nervous tingle inside me, willing me to initiate some sort of conversation. Naminé is silent, glaring straightforward. It's a little odd, watching her drive. For most of my life I was the driver out of our little posse.
I rake in her expression without giving away my curiosity. Her eyebrows are knitted together in frustration, her lips are tugged into a permanent looking frown. Heavy marks stain the skin beneath her shining eyes, making her look older.
She seems different, yet entirely the same as the last time I saw her. When she left me here alone. The thought flits through my head, as I acknowledge it for the first time in a month. She left me here, defenseless, friendless, so I could self-destruct. She left me here to burn.
I don't exactly know what hits me first, the shock or the familiar boiling feeling in my gut.
"Why are you back?" I ask bluntly, as Naminé drives. Her eyes never meet mine when she weaves around the cars, carefully glancing back at the blond in the back seat.
"Phone call," she murmurs distractedly. Something stirs suddenly in the depths of my stomach. Something akin to anger. I swallow thickly, reigning in the new emotion back.
"You left, and came back because of a simple phone call?" I question in a controlled voice. Naminé chews her lip, hands tightening on the wheel.
"It's a little more complicated than that, Kairi." She responds stonily.
"Let me guess – Roxas called you, and here you are to save the day. Where's the cape?" I sneer, much to the blonde's dissatisfaction, because in the next second her eyes leave the road to glower in my direction.
"I'm here to help – "
"You can't help." I snarl suddenly. "You made sure of that when you fucked off to Radiant Gardens."
The blonde becomes silent, and returns her attention back to the road. I feel it – before I can even really stop it – sympathy. It burns through my chest, leaving me humiliating for allowing the feeling to come through, in the first place.
She pulls to a harsh stop. I spin around, expecting to find the car stopped in the middle of the street. But we're parked in the Strifes' driveway. The anger simmers, cooling down as I bring out the mask again. The chilling spell falls over me until I'm at a sedate place.
"Sorry, I guess." I say halfheartedly.
I turn away from Naminé who's staring at me suspiciously, as if she knows what I'm doing. My eyes glance over the dark house. The soft glowing yellow light from the second story grabs my attention. I know whose room that belongs to.
"Sora's in there," I mutter quietly, looking away from the window to stare straight forward.
Naminé hums in agreement.
"You should talk to him." I continue on.
"You slept with him." She accuses, except it doesn't sound like an accusation even though I know it is. It sounds more like a statement, as if she were stating the weather or saying her name. I blink, tilting my head to observe her.
She's staring through the car windshield as well. Her eyes are blank, almost as blank as I feel. She glances at me. Something flashes in her pale blue eyes that make my stomach churn uncomfortably. They're cold and icy as they narrow dangerously.
It's a challenge that I gladly accept.
"I did," I agree, my lips pulling into an involuntary smirk. Her eyes widen slightly. One of her dark eyebrows cocks upward skeptically. "Perhaps you should try it." I add, rather nastily.
It's a low blow, even for me. From the way her head turns a fraction of an inch away, I can tell I've hurt her. It's an opening, and I'm not about to let it slip. She doesn't get to win. She doesn't even understand the slightest bit of anything.
Naminé breathes deeply through her nose. Her knuckles grasping the steering wheel are ghostly pale. She's tense, and it's showing quite obviously.
The blonde turns back to me with a cold face.
"I know why you're doing this," she says evenly. Her eyes narrow again into little slits. "And you think you have everyone fooled."
My glare turns hard as does hers.
"And if I do have everyone under my beck and call?"
"You don't fool me Kairi," Naminé snaps back. "Or Roxas, either." She gestures to the unconscious blond in the back seat. I feel myself glance at the rearview mirror, seeing his bruised face. The Calvin Kline model is going to be fired.
"Maybe you're wrong."
"Maybe you need to stop being such a coward." She counters. "You're acting like a brat. Open your eyes! This idiot is so in love with you!"
Something flutters in the pit of my stomach. I'm not sure if it's excitement or sickness. The feeling is quickly drowned out by the sudden tightness in my chest. The ache grows by the second, and I almost smack myself for letting that feeling slip through the crack, I've carefully knitted together.
I let out a shaky breath, hating the way Naminé is drinking my reaction in. With a final heave, I straighten up in my seat and push the pain away so it becomes only a dull ache.
"Why are you even here?" I question offhandedly. "Trying to play matchmaker? It's not going to work, Naminé, so maybe you should hightail out of here like you did before."
There. I bring it up again, and Naminé flinches slightly.
"I'm here now, so let me help you before you both hurt each other even more than you already have." She pleads.
She just doesn't get it.
"I honestly don't care if I'm hurting him." I state, returning to staring straight forward. I can see the frustration sweep through her expression from my peripheral vision.
"You're lying." I don't miss the uncertainty lacing her voice.
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I sneak back into my room without any kind of disturbance. It's a routine that I've become so good at over the month. My parents don't suspect a thing from their darling daughter.
Once I get into my room, the first thing I do is bury my face into my pillows. With a shaky sigh, I finally allow the tears that I've been holding back all night flow out.
It was stupid – it was a stupid idea to go to that party. It was a stupid idea to sleep with Sora. I groan into my pillow as the memories from that night fill my head. He was so eager, and ecstatic, and so fucking clumsy that he didn't even notice I was near my breaking point. I wanted to hate him. Such a silly stupid boy. He's probably in his own bed, crying his eyes out now.
A sting of guilt hits me before I can recognize it. And I can't help it. My mind flits back to the events at the party. Sora's safe hand, leading me inside the house. The polite gesture of getting me something to drink. Riku's cold leer from the other side of the room. Roxas's captivated stare. I could see from the way he was watching – I could see how the events would play out and yet I still went for it. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see the battered and bruised fighting I knew he'd initiate. I craved it, wholeheartedly. It set my soul afire.
I wanted to see the physicality of how he internally abandoned me played out on his perfect face.
And yet, when it was actually happening, that disgusting panic hit me harder than the beer bottle on his head. Fear shot through my veins, seeing him curse obscenities in Riku's face, along with unrelenting hits. That ridiculous concerned feeling became as prominent as the muscles and veins bulging with strain as he tightened his fists.
I curl into a ball and hug my pillow, knowing sleep would not come to me tonight.
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The next night, I hear of a party, but instead of going, I find myself in the last place I want to be.
I intake a deep breath, standing nervously at the Strife porch. My eyes dart to the driveway and notice his parents are gone. Sora's bike is parked by the sidewalk. My spirits dampen slightly when I see the Ducati, mocking me.
I sigh again, before ringing the doorbell. The leather jacket is warm, and snug around me. For once I'm wearing my own jacket.
The door opens before I can smile at my thought. The smile never makes it half an inch, before it's falling into a frown. A battered Roxas Strife opens the door, looking as if hell had frozen over. A scowl manifests across his bruised face.
"What are you doing here?" He asks, it doesn't sound as nearly nasty as his face. I don't flinch. I expect this attitude.
I let a cool smirk grace my lips. "Fucked you up good, didn't he?"
Roxas's looks puzzled for a moment before, something akin to sadness flashes through his eyes.
"We need to talk."
"We don't need to do anything." I counter quickly.
"No, we're going to talk." He says coldly, and before I can do anything, his hand grips my wrist tightly tugging me inside. I struggle a bit, as he leads me upstairs, ignoring my demands to release my wrist. Once we get to his room, he shuts the door and locks it.
I raise an eyebrow, watching him warily as he circles around the room. His eyes never leave mine
Roxas slides leans against the wall. He swallows harshly, wiping his mouth with the cuff of his t-shirt. His eyes are dark, as they dart in my direction. His eyebrows are knitted together a harsh scowl forming on his perfect face.
"I've been trying to talk to you forever." He mutters out angrily. I can feel the anger seeping through the tightly wound wall I've created. I can't react. I can't afford to react. Because if I let the anger in, I know I'd be letting all the other shitty emotions in as well. "Fuck, Kairi."
He looks down at the floor, bringing his other hand to his forehead. He wipes his face in anguish. It almost hurts looking at him. But I refuse to feel anything for him anymore. I've closed off everything. Every single emotion just because of this asshole.
I swallow evenly, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away. It's pathetic. Seeing him like this is pathetic.
"I came to see if you weren't dead. And obviously you're not, so you can go back to sleep." I deadpan. He growls, glaring back up at me. The scowl on his face darkens.
"No! You don't get to tell me what to do." He hollers, shocking me momentarily. I think I even jump back a bit. He throws himself off the wall, and stalks over to me. "I should be the one telling you what to do now."
I clench my jaw, watching him with cautious eyes. He looks wild and angry. I've never seen him like that. I don't recognize the anger that seems to be building up in his tall frame every passing second. The blond trembles and I almost, almost reach out to him, but his sudden movement freezes me in my tracks. He lets out another growl before kicking the bed post, knocking down the lamp.
It shatters at our feet. A wave of fear hits me, as we're encompassed in the darkness.
His eyes are bright against the moonlight, shining through the window. It reminds me of that party from so long ago. The party that led to everything turning to shit. I don't realize I'm shaking as well. And I don't notice the way his eyes are watery, until he turns his face back towards me.
"What are you doing to yourself?" He demands, his voice is cracking. I don't realize I'm starting to cry. Because I don't know any other way to express myself. My chest feels tight as every kind of emotion is begging to me let free. Pleading with me to fight against Roxas.
I remain remote, with the exception of the tears that are beginning to fall.
He takes a step closer to me, gesturing towards my clothes. His fingers brush against the top I'm wearing, fiddling with the strap in a mocking way. "Who is this person? This isn't – this isn't Kairi. This isn't you. Why did you do this to yourself?"
I don't respond, opting to look away from his angry face. He growls, and slams his hands on the wall on either side of my head, trapping me with his arms.
"Who are you?" He asks dangerously.
And I can't take it anymore. I've lost against my emotions. They spill out and I can't control it. I shove the blond out of the way.
"I'm trying here, Kairi. I'm here, swallowing all of my damn pride that's been building up, and I'm telling you that I want to fix this. I want you. I want this to work. I'm tired of running away from everything. I'm tired of pushing you away, when all I want is just you. So please," he swallows thickly, with a shaky breath. "Please just come back to me."
I back up from him, as he tries to close the gap between us. His eyes are wild and desperate when they flicker around my face. His hands reach out to touch me, but I shrink away.
"I don't want to come back." I mutter sullenly.
"I love you – "
"Don't you get it? I feel nothing for you. There's nothing left in here!" I shriek, my hand moving to my chest for emphasis. "Absolutely nothing."
His blue eyes melt away vulnerably. It sends an irritating sense of guilt through me. His pale, bruised face is pained as he shoots me a wounded look. A look that reminds me so much of Sora.
"I-I don't believe you," he murmurs.
"You did this to me. It's all your fault! Everything! You made sure this happened. You made sure you ripped every single ounce of anything I've ever felt for you away. You can't fix me because you were the one that left me here to rot." I don't even realize that I begin to cry. I don't even feel the trail of tears that have started to stream down my face. I can't even hear the quiver in my voice, or the occasional hiccups that escape my lips.
My vision is one blurry mess, as I try to move around him. The hands that were once firmly planted on the wall have loosened. Then, I suddenly feel something rough and familiar smooth over my eyes. My eyesight immediately becomes clear, and I realize it was Roxas wiping the tears away.
It's dangerous, the way his finger tips trail across my face gently. It almost feels like a slap to the face. It stings, and feels fatally tight. My insides twist painfully – ache uncomfortably and I can't help the moisture that's accumulating around my eyes again.
"Kairi," he breathes softly. His breath is fresh, and smells of the toothpaste I know he uses. His nose brushes against my forehead, inhaling deeply, sending a tingle throughout my body. "You still love me, please just… say it."
It's an involuntary reaction to move closer to his hand, that's now cupping my face. The flutter in my stomach that's masked by the aching is also automatic. The blush that's forming on my face is warped by the tears that are flooding my cheeks. It's a distorted feeling. Enjoying it, while receiving that stab of hurt laced with it.
"You love me, say. I want to hear you say it." He whispers softly, his other hand resting just beneath my ear. I feel his warm fingertips rub against my cold skin, leaving a trail of lava everywhere he touches. His thumb moves in circles, moving until its tracing the outline of my lips.
My stomach twists into knots unpleasantly, yet pleasantly at the same time. It's an unperfected feeling, something so twisted and demented I should push it away. Despite the warmth that's flooding throughout my body – the familiar warmth of Roxas's touch – it's quickly followed by the unrelenting agony that's tormented me since that morning he left me.
My hands, that were once planted on my sides, fist around the collar of his shirt frantically.
"Kairi," he pleads, and I just about lose every bit of self control I have left. My eyes sting angrily, as I whimper pathetically into his shirt.
"It hurts." I say through his stained shirt. "It hurts so much. You – you don't understand."
"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
He looks down at me with liquid soft blue eyes. His eyes are blazing, and shining and smoldering all at once, reminding me so much of the party back in December. The party that changed everything. Why couldn't things be as simple as scowling at him from a corner? Why couldn't I have kept my big mouth shut?
His eyebrows knit together at my silence. "I love –"
My lips crash into his, in a moment of panic, a moment of fear, a moment of passion.
Fire erupts in my chest, burning the tight, constricting thorns into ashes. My lungs open wide, as the wave of fire rushes through them, bringing in the scorching heat. It burns my insides into cinders, burns away everything. Especially the cold ice that's frozen everything.
His lips move against mine harshly, enveloping me, taking everything in. They're hot and salty. Probably from the tears that are unwavering, and streaming down my face. His moans echo through my mouth like a symphony, a chorus of vigorous singers belting their hearts out. It's synchronized the way our sounds weave, and intertwine with each other.
My hands move up to his face, feeling the curve of his jaw, the bruises on his soft cheeks, the dark mark of his eyebrows. They trail into his gloriously familiar locks. The perfect blond hair all Calvin Kline models would be jealous of.
I feel his tongue trace against my lips, as if begging for entry. I almost want to laugh, at the submissive behavior he's displaying. It's silly. It's not Roxas at all, yet it makes the building heat explode like a volcano of – of something. My mouth opens without any hesitation, welcoming the familiar feeling, the familiar exploration. It's slippery and wet, as he flicks around my teeth, the roof of my mouth, the inside of my cheeks.
His arms pull me against him, fingers dancing wildly against the hem of my shirt. My own arms snake around his neck, bringing his face closer to mine. His hands draw out patterns beneath my shirt, making the skin underneath boil involuntarily.
It's hot. Too hot, that I'm losing my breath. Too hot that I feel like my heart is going to spontaneously combust. It's too much, that I'm the first one to pull away.
I feel Roxas's pants against my face that match my own breathing.
"I can't," I quiver against his arms.
"It's okay, it's okay"
His hands are shaky, when they lift up my shirt. His touch is too soft - too gentle, that it almost makes me want to cry. It was the first time I never had. His face is concentrated, as he carefully undoes his shirt.
His gleaming pale chest glints in the moonlight shining through the window. I shiver beneath him, watching cautiously as he reaches down to smooth his hands over my stomach. His touch is delicate, despite the size of hands and the rough texture. The friction of it causes me to shiver again.
"Don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid of you," I whisper. "I'm afraid of myself."
His blue eyes soften, and a sad smile plays at his lips. "Let go. It's just me."
It's not the same as before. It's not entirely different. It's not innocent in the slightest. When is sex ever innocent? But it's so painfully wonderful. A mixture of something so innocently, and sensuously erotic. So achingly delightful.
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The morning light shines through the bedroom window. I know exactly where I'm at when I wake up, because I feel and smell him everywhere. A low, uncomfortable feeling churns in my stomach. A wave of nausea hits me.
I barely make into the bathroom before I'm puking. It's not the good kind either (not that there really is any good kind of vomiting).
A surge of that chilling sickness washes through me, when I remember last night. I remember every touch, every sound, breath, kiss, and it leaves me in a state of vertigo. The thoughts sicken me. If it were possible I feel even sicker when I walk back into the room and see Roxas half asleep, feeling around the empty bed for me.
My stomach is in knots again. My chest aches angrily as I see his lips curved into that secretive smile. The smile disgusts me. I'm disgusted with myself. How could I let this happen?
The image is distorted – the image of the once perfect Roxas is ruined. It's not the same. It's never going to be the same.
Hurriedly, I reach for my clothes and quickly stuff them on as noiselessly as I can manage.
"W-what are you doing?"
The soft husky lilt to his voice stops me in my tracks. I turn hastily towards the door, hiding my stricken face away from the blond. I hear the bed creak, and I assume he's getting out.
"I have to go." I state automatically. It's quiet for a long moment. He's thinking, trying to understand what I'm doing. And then –
"No! You can't just do that. You can't just – just come here and then dump me afterwards."
"I fucked you, and you're the idiot who fell for it." I laugh bitterly. I scold myself to not shake, as I lie off my face. I need to get out of here.
"I don't – I don't believe you. You're shaking." He stammers, his voice is only a few inches away from me. I reach for the door, but he yanks me backward. My back hits his warm bare chest, and I can't help but tremble against it.
"Let me go!" I snap out angrily.
"Kairi, please! I-I love you. What more do you want from me –"
"Just let me go."
He relents, and I almost fall against the door. I don't look back, I don't stop to gauge his expression, I just open the door and hurry out. The world is blurry as I push my way downstairs and out the front door.
I'd rather die than let him hurt me again.
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Oh! The angst! It kills. It kills kittens!
Reviews are lovely. Dianna Agron is lovely. Therefore review Dianna Agron is lovely...wait, that sounded better in my head.