A One-Shot/ Poem/ Drabble.
It's about Kairi remembering Sora... and then longing to be reunited with him.

Disclaimer: Nomura owns Sora and Kairi, someone owns the line from a poem i stole at the very end, but the actual poem and drabble style is completly my own.


Baby Blue.

'Sora'… A name that means Sky.

It's an endless space above the world.
A light breeze that's hardly a whisper.
A white smudge of fluffy cloud would pause the cobalt blue every here and there, water in this sky that you can decipher as images, pictures on the never-ending canvas.
Sometimes, a pair of content violet eyes would find the silliest ones you could ever think of.
As a red-wine haired, ivory skinned teenage girl would lie on the soft white sands on the islands beach.
Sometimes, she'd see him, the faintest of flashes, although she couldn't picture his face…
As she remembers about the boy she forgot.

So then … when it rains,

It's a miserable way to start the day.
A dull lullaby if ever there was one.
Together, it looks like a sheet of grey, a veil of water descending to the earth,
Concentrate on one drop, and maybe you'll see them.
Sometimes, a pair of disappointed violet eyes would glance up from under a hood,
As a pair of slender arms cross over a developing chest, wrapping a coat around a fragile frame, delicate hands clutching at pointy elbows.
Sometimes, she could have sworn she felt his warm touch, a brush of gentle fingertips, although she couldn't remember his warmth…
As she remembers about the boy she forgot.

Does that mean you cry?

It's a terrible sight to see.
A soft pitter patter as they land on the sufferers' lap.
The faintest of silver as the tear tracks leave a trail down the cheek,
If you can see the glistening, you'll see the trickling water.
Sometimes, just sometimes, she'll wrap her breakable arms around their shaking figure and murmur with comfort.
She was in despair.
She could hear him crying.

And when the blazing sun is shining,

It's the symbol of hope and promises.
A crash of rolling waves then foam on the shore.
Everybody knows that it's meant to be yellow, but, really, it just looks white in its glorious light,
Squint your eyes and maybe you'll see that saffron tint.
Sometimes, a pair of peaceful violet eyes would watch it regardless,
As a heart-shaped angelic face tilts upwards slightly, long white hands limp in a skirt clad lap, two flawlessly curved legs loosely crossed.
Sometimes, she was sure it was his scent that invaded her nostrils, the sweetness of sunny days and fragrant nights, although she couldn't call back his smell…
As she remembers about the boy that she forgot.

Are you happy and smiling?

It's a wonderful sight to see.
A musical laugh like the chimes of a bell.
The palest of pinks as a soft blush creeps onto their rosy cheeks,
If you can see them flushing, you'll see the smile on their lips.
Sometimes, just sometimes, she'll tightly embrace their bouncing figure and squeal with joy.
She was ecstatic.
She could hear him laughing.

Oh, but when the storm comes through,
With cries of thunder and legs of lightning,
It would brew.

It's a frightening experience for some.
A clap of deafening thunder roaring from the heavens.
When the lightning strikes, it's hard to decide on the exact pigment, but whitish purple is greatly considered,
If you stared into the boiling clouds, you'll see the threatening grey.
Sometimes, a pair of surprised violet eyes would snap to attention at the sudden rumble of thunder,
As a pair of alarmingly tight fists pound against the window in an abrupt flare of fury, and a pair of perfect feet stamp on the floor in stubborn defiance.
Sometimes, though, wasn't it his soothing voice that caressed her eardrums? Even when she couldn't dredge up the sound of his hushed words…
As she remembers about the boy she forgot.

Is this when your anger would flare and your blood would boil?

It's a terrifying sight to see.
A snarl of hurtful words.
The deepest of reds as their blood springs up from beneath their skin,
If you can see the vein throbbing, you'll see the trembling of their furious features.
Sometimes, just sometimes, she'll curl her frail body as she cringes from their rage and cry with fear.
She was scared.
She could hear him yelling.

And make me, the sea, recoil?

Yes, she's recoiling.
Desperately rolling from his harsh cries and flying fists.

Please raise your face away from the soil,

Who's face?
His F a c e.

Look at me and show me that b a b y b l u e ,

What's blue?
HisE y e s.

Take my hand and remember this as true;

Who's warmth?
His W a r m t h.

Intoxicate me with whatever you decide to do,

Who's scent?
His S c e n t.

Tell me when your mood controls you,

Who's voice?
His V o i c e.

Because it affects me too.

She had remembered him.
The boy that she forgot.
She felt whole again, she craved to see him again, she knew who she loved again, and she missed him now, more than she'd ever have anticipated.
Days came, days passed, and slowly faded away.
With each one a piece of her faded along with the dying light of the fiery sun. As the stars were revealed and the ghostly moon shone.
Her friends tried to help her, they really did, but she didn't take any notice of them. She didn't care.
Her world suddenly seemed very bleak and pointless to live in without him.
It was ironic for him to make her feel complete, and then slowly kill her this way…

A name that means 'S k y'…
When it goes black with night,
…Do you die…?

Because that was as sure as hell how she felt now.

((I want no world. For beautiful, you are my world, my true.))


Anyhoodles, I hope it wasn't too bad.
Review if you want.

A storyteller is I, now it ends we say goodbye.