|Goodnight, My Love
Author: Paopu Pop PM
Naminé begins to wish she was in someone's else's shoes as she watches a sleeping boy. [sided NaminéSoraoneshot]Rated: Fiction K - English - Romance/Drama - Naminé & Sora - Words: 1,328 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 3 - Published: 09-24-06 - id: 3169061
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I felt drabbly. I started this the last night of summer vacation, but never got around to finishing it.
It's out of tune
for me to write het slash, but I felt totally in the mood. If you
haven't played KH:CoM, then Naminé/Sora probably won't
make sense to you. If you have played it, good for you. You
win cookies. IT'S EVERYBODY'S FAVORITE FLAVOR: TUNA AND PEANUT
BUTTER! Request of Riku.
Riku: But I don't… oh, there's no point in arguing.
Disclaimer: Why bother with this? Everybody knows I don't own it.
Claimer: I own the
poetry. HAHA I WIN. Nobody wants my sucky poetry anyway. Naminé/Sora
is soooo sad (sob). It's kinda cute though. In a depressing way.
Naminé/Sora is soooo sad (sob). It's kinda cute though. In a depressing way.
Tonight there's a
wind in the air
That makes me want to spread my wings
Try to take flight like an eagle
But I only find strength to sing
And I whisper the
Like a baby's sweet lullaby
Waiting to be taken to sleep
So I can wish this world goodbye
Goodnight, my world
Full of bittersweet meetings
Goodnight, my love
For our moments were fleeting
Memories I wish were real…
I lay the colored pencil down on the silver table, leaning back in the wooden chair to think. The only memories that laid within me now were the times that I—no, she played on the islands, finding herself companionship between two young boys.
Two young boys, who I have also once met.
I find myself flipping to a new page, beginning to sketch a scene. I close my eyes and focus on the thought. A ship—no, a small raft is being built. A strong pair of arms is carrying wood over, his brunette locks sticking to the sweat on his face, while another, even stronger pair is tying the rope to the logs, his yellow tank top drenched in sweat… or perhaps seawater. I cannot see the third figure, who is standing by, and for a moment it—apparently she—looks down to see her handiwork… thalassa shells being strung together into a necklace. The memory begins to focus, and I depict the scene on the sketchpad, my own memories of the two boys giving me a figure to look of off.
My memories, of my sad life stuck in this castle of hopeless, heartless dreams.
I start with the figure on the left, who is a shorter boy. He, who once had dreams of growing up and marrying a pretty girl… only to be stripped of his islands which were imbued and captured by the darkness. To wonder upon the worlds, rescuing those in need and meeting others along the way.
Who now sleeps because of my attempt and short succession to tear those dreams away and implant those of Marluxia's wishes.
I shudder at the thought. To put myself in place of a girl he once so dearly cared for…
Unable to continue on him, I leave an arm half-sketched to start with the boy on the right. Hair cropped at the shoulders, silky and silvery, also sticks to his forehead and the back of his neck. The memory of his figure is more clouded—now that he is something that enveloped his form in darkness.
But what I remember from my meeting is somewhat disheartening… that he was willing to keep darkness within him—to become part of what swallowed him just to save his friend. I don't know if I had the strength to do that. I keep on drawing the lines of his figure anyway, wishing I could have a least a little of his strength.
I know why she treasures these boys like rare gems.
The picture begins to form on the flat dimension. Although my work is unrefined, it is not horrible—almost professional, even—but I can't help but wonder what it would be like to actually stand upon that beach shore, water washing up gritty sand under my feet, seagulls flying above my head, giving an almost squeaking call. In the company of friends, watching something amazing begin to take shape piece by piece, I would smile and say, "I love you guys."
But that is not my life, but was once hers… and may be ours again, someday.
I catch the tear that begins to fall from my cheek before it splatters on the drawing, and I go back to sketching a faded memory. Or in my case… what is more like a dream.
When I cannot draw anymore and the picture is only an outline of figures, I rise while closing the book. I then put the book down on the chair, knowing it would be okay if I left it for only a moment.
Walking towards the pod, I grace my thin fingers against the metallic shell. It reminds me of something that Marluxia showed me once—a flower bud. It would bloom soon, and from it shall rise a hero.
When he woke up, he would forget me. My voice, my face, my name… all of it will be wiped from memory.
Another tear slips, but this time I do not stop it.
Is it Kairi's heart that made me feel this way? If I have not my own heart, perhaps hers is making this feeling swell inside me?
It does not matter, for whether or not I have a heart, these feelings—or whatever you can call them by—are mine. And it's hurting now. Only a bit longer until I can fully reconstruct his memories once Roxas steps into the picture, and then I can finally see how much he has actually grown within the past few months… or has it really been a year already?
"Naminé." The voice rings through the room. "Have you finished yet with creating the town?"
"I completed the mansion and the town," I reply quietly.
"But not the entire thing?"
"I'm still working on the beach." Though this is somewhat a lie—I had been working on the beach on Destiny Islands, not Twilight Town. But Ansem need not to know that.
There's no response. Ansem's presence has left the room.
Perhaps I could take a peek into the town. Just once, to see how Roxas would be like without the corruption of the Organization…
I decide upon a small visit to the town, and begin to walk out the room. I stop in the doorway, and then turn around to the flower bud. "Goodnight, my love." With that, I leave, determined not to let my intentions be known by anyone other than myself.
I love him, but perhaps she would be best for him in the end. For I… am just a Nobody.
I know you cannot
But I will keep on singing
I love you and always will
Though this pain will keep stinging
Thank you for not
crying for me
It was just simply not meant to be
The way that our lives are laid out,
It could never be simple and clean.
Anyway, uhhh… reviews are appreciated, critiques are lovely. Hope you enjoyed it. It was odd to write in present-tense for once… hah. O.o