A/N: Don't even ask me where this came from. I wanted to write something with Luxord in it, because he's awesome and very much underappreciated in KH. I needed to have something familiar there too, so Naminé made her way in here. Inspired by the fast-talking, drug-taking kids in Brick—amazing 2004 indie movie that everybody's gotta watch—and "Another Day" from the "trash musical" Rent. I don't expect it to make much sense, but if it helps, it takes place before Naminé rescues Kairi in the World that Never Was. So sit back and feel free to tell me if it sucks. Because I'm not so completely invested in it, yeah? Thanks.

NO DAY BUT TODAY.

He is playing solitaire when she enters from what they call stage right, so quietly he does not even notice. It's not that it's his fault. He's got sharp eyes and sharp ears too. It's just that his cards make more noise than she does.

She breathes in, still believing in the lie that she needs it, and uselessly breathes out. She hasn't done anything to the air, and he stopped breathing a long time ago.

The gambler of fate and the white witch are both in the room that proves he exists, the room that says nothing about her.

"Luxord?" she asks, finally, saying his name slowly. Only then does he look back.

It occurs to both of them that they've never spoken before.

"How's things?" she asks. It's the same small voice, same small girl, same small worries.

"Things?" he imitates, smirking, a card turning to reveal a blown-up queen of hearts. She is too close to the one in Wonderland who screams off with your, his, her, my head!

But she's a mockery in herself, to both of them.

"Things," he considers, again. "You, me, existing are all status quo. The Organization's falling apart. Those hearts keep coming up to the moon, like we'll get one someday. How are you—?"

It takes him a moment to remember what her name is.

"…Naminé?" he questions, finishes, not even pretending to put on a smile. She looks hopeful, if only because she is hardly ever remembered.

"You know me, then?" she asks, a hopeful smile clinging to her lips.

"I know everyone, and I have all the time in the world," he says calmly. Her face falls, because the smile was never really there. He pretends not to notice. He does a lot of pretending in these, what he knows are his last days.

"I don't have any time at all, Luxord," she says suddenly, looking fearful. Her eyes are on his earrings, sharp little needles embedded in skin. She is wondering if it hurt, but then she remembers it's rude to stare. Her fingers tremble over her sketchbook, the biting wind from the swirling moon making her skin stand on end.

"Saïx had her," she murmurs, very quickly, trying to get every word out. Something is broken inside her, and she lets loose a fury of words. "But she's moving. She's gotten concerned and she doesn't want to take it this way. She wants to come for him and make sure she sees him again. I'm fading away, look, look—"

He doesn't want to look, but her arm is held up against the moon. Light falls through her palm, through all of her, and she looks like a ghost in one of the old stories his mother told his other, better half—when he was somebody.

Her lips crinkle and her eyes do too, as if she may cry. Luxord's surprised that she even tries anymore, and on some level, Naminé is too. She repeats herself, her voice a little—a lot—louder than usual: "I just don't have any time. I'm a ghost disappearing. Nobody can stop me. I just don't have any time left."

"You won't die, if that's what you're worried about," he says, detached and dry.

"I can't disappear," she says stubbornly.

"You've gotten too used to it," he says, snapping his fingers, watching the cards rotate around her. She disappears and reappears, closer to him. "You weren't supposed to. You knew the plan was for you to hate living, just in case. You knew your game would be over before you even got halfway through."

"I wanted to live," she protests, her eyes crinkling again, her hands folding up. "Is that so bad? I didn't want to be so small. I wanted to grow up."

"She will grow up." Strange, how the princess' name is never spoken. It never has to be. They both understand. They've been living in shadows and knowing their better halves for so long there's no need for something as mundane, ordinary as names anymore.

"You can," he continues, "with her."

"But I won't be growing up," she insists. "I won't be myself."

"You were never supposed to be yourself," he says, harshly. "It was all a mistake."

"Then why is the moon there?" she asks, slightly defiant. Someone's lit a fire in her, made her brave. She needs to be careful, he thinks. That sort of rebellion can get a little thing like her killed.

"Back when we had hearts, we had hope, too. We're trying to make it, make hope—but it's going to fall. You can see it already. It's not strong enough."

"It's already breaking," she says, slowly. She breathes in and out again like the liar she is. She forces a tone into her voice: "I'm so sorry, for all of you."

"We were born broken," he says. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other path, no other way. No day but today. "There's no need to be sorry. I meant to tell you to get her. Stall, make a distraction and a scene if you have to, but you know you have to get out of here. Soon that brat will be after me too, because I wear this coat. If they see you with me, it will be a long explanation, and you know this wasn't supposed to get anyone's attention."

"I'll remember that, Luxord," she promises.

"You always remember everything, Naminé," he says with a smile that says he expected as much. He doesn't want to say goodbye because it's just another formality he doesn't need. He's been leaving large words and extended greetings behind lately. And then with another snap, those large black-and-white cards of his usher him out the door.

"I'm the white witch, aren't I?" she asks after him, or maybe after his shadow, if he had one.

"I remember what everyone else forgets."

FIN.

A/N: Why, yes, I can hardly write happy!Naminé, why do you ask? I expect Luxord was completely off here. Do tell me how I can make it better, and I'll love you for ages and bake you double chocolate cookies.

Lots of love from the self-proclaimed Matinee Idol