A stab at Angst from me. It's kind of sad, I think, but I had to portray the hidden elements of Riku and Namine. They're so broken and scarred, and I haven't really delved into those sides of them yet.

Well, here it is. It probably won't take off, as my General story didn't, but I hope it's liked.

Disclaimer: Nuh uh. No. Nope. No. Nah. Nope. No way. I don't own it.

It had been once, and only once. She remembered it. The sun was setting, but it was a cold sunset that day, full of blues, grays, and purples. The ground was damp from rain, and the wind was cool.

And he stood over her, watching her. She remembered considering him her shield, and she'd felt comfort at that. He made her feel safe.

She was sketching, eyes darting up and down from the landscape, trying to find something beautiful in the sadness that was enveloping them. And he'd knelt down suddenly and wrapped his arms around her, stilling her.

Riku…was shaking.

He'd asked, then, why it was that she liked to draw so much.

She hadn't understood why he asked. And she hadn't had an answer for him.


Now, at present time, Riku was far away with Sora, fighting, battling. Roxas was with them too, but he was so different from them. She felt sorry for him, actually; he and Sora had a bond, of course, but there was so much envy in his eyes at the Keyblade Master.

He couldn't even hate him, because he was a mere reflection.

Sighing, Naminé flipped through the pages, fingers trembling. She knew now, why it was that Riku was so shaken. It wasn't that something had happened.Nothing had happened that day; he'd just grinned and laughed and joked with Sora, something he normally did. They'd even sparred before her, the match ending in a tie – they could never overcome each other. But she'd missed the one important thing that would have let her know in an instant; Riku had kept looking at her.

She hadn't known for a while that he'd had feelings for her. But now that she knew, and understood, she realized that he'd been afraid that day they were alone. She'd been so involved in her artwork that she hadn't paid him any mind, and that actually terrified Riku.

She'd realized that what he feared most was not being enough for anyone, not being good enough. No, actually, Sora had pointed that out one day, when they'd shared an awkward moment together staring at the sunset. He'd said Riku was so much stronger than he, and that made his problems so much bigger. He had more to fight, Sora had murmured, and more to fear. And he'd looked to her when he'd said it, giving her a hint at what Riku's feelings truly were.

It had taken her a while to sort him out, because Riku said so little about himself, but she understood him when she looked him the eyes now or listened to his voice.

Was that love? Well, she certainly had feelings for him.

She closed her sketchbook as a tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't know why she was crying now. Maybe it was because she felt alone. Probably more so was that she felt guilty for hurting her closest friend. Riku felt left out whenever she turned to her sketchbook.

But she turned to her sketchbook because that was her one true safe-haven.

She knew now, why she drew. There was a comfort in inanimate sketches. They stared back in whatever way you portrayed them; they were calm, happy, and all so fake.

And drawing left her absorbed in an alternate reality that left her so tranquil and untroubled.

Because, in real life, she was a mess. She was scared, frightened, and heartbroken, and couldn't speak the things she wanted to say. She couldn't draw them either, because they would haunt her, and so her sketchbook was still safe from the nightmares.

But she hurt Riku because she couldn't turn to him. She couldn't run to his arms and cry to him, as Kairi could run to Sora. She couldn't offer him the satisfaction in that he was helping her, was making her life easier. With that question, he'd begged her to look at him and pour her heart out to him, to tell him even one secret.

And she hadn't, because she hadn't understood. And now the wrong could not be made undone.

She loved him with all her heart, but she could never give him what he wanted. It was happiness and acceptance that he'd begged of her, openness, and she was only broken. She wasn't whole, wasn't complete, and wasn't good enough for him.

So she drew, because that was false. She could change her story, and create the life she wanted.

But, then again, she never did. She remained in pain, watched Riku in pain, and wept in silence at how their chapters would never be revised, and how they'd always be portrayed as wounded. But she brought it upon herself. She never changed her story; she refused to change her story.

Because pictures…they never were enough.

I found myself thinking that one day; you know, how pictures can be so phony. I mean, half the time you don't smile for real anyway, so all those moments captured are sort of based on a lie. And since Namine drew, I thought I could incorporate that somehow. And I like the idea that Namine draws because it's so fake, because that just shows how hurt she really is.

Well I'm really rambling now, so I'll just ask you to review if you liked it. So please, review if you liked it!