It was ever so lonely in Castle Oblivion. She sat alone on the cold metal chair, legs crossed left over right, as always. She jiggled the charcoal between her small, dainty fingers, wondering what she should draw. Her sketchpad was laid neatly across her lap, perfectly blank and begging to be doodled upon.

This is what usually helped her think: a peaceful, quiet, perfectly clean atmosphere.

"Naminé," a voice carved its way through the stagnant air. She lifted her eyes from the paper to the doorway. It was him again. He always seemed to come in to and watch her draw.

"Yes?" she asked curtly, a hint of annoyance tracing her tone.

"I was just coming in to… see you draw," he replied, "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not re-"

"Well, lemme see what gorgeous creation you've whipped up this time," he said, reaching out to grab the sketchpad that she was clutching to her body. "Can I see?" Naminé looked to the cold marble floor and silently shook her head. "Why not, beautiful?"

She hated when he called her that. "I haven't drawn anything yet, Marluxia," she murmured, hoping he would leave her alone so she could return to her tranquil sanctuary.

"Why do you only draw with charcoal?" he interrogated, ignoring her mental wishes for him to depart.

"I like it," she answered bluntly, praying for him to walk out the door. He remained in front of her, and she remained with her head bowed low. She felt his gaze flying across her and felt her muscles tense. "You can leave now," she prompted.

Marluxia turned around to the door, his jacket waving. Instead of exiting, he rummaged through his pockets shakily. A single key emerged from his coat and the sound of a door locking echoed through Naminé's ears.


Her eyebrows furrowed when she lifted her gaze up to meet his, which never really happened. His eyes were darting madly across her petite figure, from her milky legs to her face etched with shock. Marluxia advanced, grabbing her arm and pushing her against the wall. Naminé cringed as the brick grated against her fragile skin. His lips made contact with hers, and his hands ran their way up her thighs. A whimper erupted from her throat as he slowly unzipped the back of her dress.

It was all happening so fast, her mind couldn't make a decision. She had never felt this way before. Half of her was itching to kill Marluxia, and the other half was melting under his precious touch.

She finally gained control and raised her hand, slapping him across the face. He took a step back and glared at her standing in front of him, with her dress hanging loosely over one shoulder and her hair dangling in her face. Her fists were clenched at her sides and her eyes bored into his.

"I want to give you something," he said. She remained motionless against the wall, and her eyes were beginning to well up with tears. He leaned back and dug through his jacket again, finally retrieving a rose and holding it in front of her.

Ared rose.

The most beautiful red, red rose.

He reached out and clasped a gloved hand around her wrist, and her palm opened automatically. Marluxia placed the red, red rose in her hand and curled her fingers around its stem. "For you," he muttered.

He clamped both hands around hers and pressed her fingers down. The thorns drove painfully into her flesh. He leaned into her body and whispered gently into her ear, "You really are beautiful, Naminé." Chills ran down her spine as he planted a single kiss on her neck.

Marluxia whipped around, unlocked the door, and flew into the hallway. Naminé sank to the floor and slowly opened her fist. The thorns dislodged themselves from her skin and the blood spurted out, leaving a red, red trail down her arm. The red, red rose fell to the ground inaudibly. Naminé stood up, returned to her chair, and picked up her nice, clean sketchbook. But it wasn't clean anymore. A bloody handprint jumped out frighteningly from the page, destroying the perfection of this once wonderfully blank sheet of paper.

Staring at her tainted sketchpad, Naminé learned that she could draw with another color than charcoal. She walked to her nearly empty bookcase and reached to the top shelf, rummaging through a dusty box of colored pencils.

She picked red


author's notes: Yeah, I'm sure somebody's already done something like this, but I got the idea and had to write it. I plan on making a series of Naminé-centric one-shots like this one, but different colors and pairings, I guess, whenever I think of them... Anyway, please, PLEASE review! I'd love you if you did! Feel free to criticize!

Disclaimer: Oh yeah, almost forgot… I DON'T OWN KH!