Title: Love Her

Author: Yoshimara (slavetosuicide)

Rating: M

Pairing(s): Roxas+Namine, AxelxRoxas

Warning(s): Songfic, angst, language, implied lemon, AU, character death, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, possible OOC

Disclaimer: Disney and Square Enix owns Kingdom Hearts II and its affiliates. Seether owns the lyrics. Yoshimara (slavetosuicide) owns the plot and all OCs (characters, places, etc.).

Summary: But the story was more important. They had to know that there was always someone there for them, even if they didn't realize it.

A/N: Format key:

"..." speaking

"..." thoughts

"..." lyrics

"..." memories

Nimble fingers ran along the guitar strings on the neck, tuning it for the day's work. The owner of said digits was a short blond boy with the brightest blue eyes on this side of Twilight Town. He wore a double sized olive-green hooded sweatshirt with black cargo pants and white tennis shoes that weren't really white anymore. His clothes were dirty but he didn't mind. Not many people paid mind to those who practically lived in the subway.

The sounds of footsteps and faint rumblings of the carts faded when the heavenly sounds of the strings wafted into the air. The boy's chest felt heavy and cold with each breath he took, but he pushed those feelings aside.

Today he would tell a story to anyone willing to listen.

A pair of footsteps that were familiar to the youth sounded towards him and his gaze flickered up toward them to see a pair of thick black boots had stopped in his line of sight.

"Hey, Roxas! You're early today."

Scanning the figure from toe to head, he took notice of the loose army pants, a thin black leather belt, and a simple black tee underneath a long black trench coat standing solidly in its place. He vaguely took note of the long cloth sitar case strapped to the slender back when he took in the blue eyes and a blond mullet.

"Hey, Demyx. Got some new material today."

With a silent nod and a bright smile, the boys went to work preparing for the day. Neither of them were old enough to get jobs; so to earn money they performed in the transit station for anyone who was kind enough to donate and listen. But today was different.

"Is today the day?" Demyx asked, his case open on the stone floor, bright blue sitar in hand. Roxas looked over to his friend, eyes searching his excited face before nodding.

"Yeah. Remember what I told you?" Roxas queried, referring to his request almost three months ago. The older blond nodded happily.

"Totally. I've been practicing since then!" He took note of the smile on his friend's face and the way his eyes lit up.

"How can he be so excited about this?"

It was a few more minutes before the boys were finally set up. They both sat on their respective boxes, instruments in hand, cases in position for any and all donations. Roxas shot a glance to Demyx before giving a curt nod; their signal to begin.

The simple sitar beat began to echo through-out the terminal, almost in a haunting vice. Each beat thrummed through the smaller boy's chest and he couldn't help but shudder at the sensation.

His own hand strummed along his instrument to accompany the mournful sitar. Roxas closed his eyes, the feeling of the music sweeping him away while the face of a beautiful blond girl entered his mind. Bright blue eyes, platinum blond hair, and a snowy complexion brought together; pink smiling lips that always made him smile in return.

He sat on the stoop of a rather cozy looking house, his short spiked hair drooped slightly in the summer heat. The twelve year old boy stared at his dirty shoes as if they could answer all of his questions.

Footsteps made him look up to see a blonde girl, roughly his age and dressed in a tiny white dress, walking up towards his house. She was petite and shy, that much he could tell. But with the way her shoulders were set, and the fire in her bright blue eyes, he knew she was different from all the other kids.

"Hey," he said in a way of greeting.

"Hey," she replied, her voice quiet but with a faint tone of anger.

"I met a girl who hated the world."

The words left his lips, his eyes opening slowly to reflect the faint sorrow in them. He knew he was helping himself in some way by exposing this, and hopefully the story would touch anyone's heart that heard. It needed to be said.

A year passed since that day and Namine—that was her name—had shown up at school with another set of bruises. She didn't even try to hide them anymore, Roxas noticed as they sat at lunch that day.

They began to show up half a year ago and she had quietly confided in Roxas that she had no choice. "I'd rather have that moment of illusion, to think I'm loved—even if it's a stranger, than be at home."

"She used her body to sell her soul."

His gaze flashed to Demyx, who had a solemn look on his face, but he didn't halt his motions on his sitar. The music had brought a few spectators, but no money yet. It'll come eventually, it always did. But the story was more important.

They had to know that there was always someone there for them, even if they didn't realize it. They needed to see that life was a harsh mistress, but even her slaves have a way to survive.


Her quiet and inquisitive tone brought him out of his musings to focus on her, with her fake smile and false brightness. Even then he saw through her facade, but he didn't say a word. Not since the last time when she blew up at him before breaking down in tears.



"Every time they'd break her and pay."

His gaze caught a familiar face in the crowd and he faintly smiled. Fiery red spikes and dazzling green eyes greeted him back and the upward curl faded to a sorrowful expression.

His lover was there; for support or another reason, he didn't know. But he was glad nonetheless.

"Tear out her heart and leave her in pain."

Roxas closed his eyes again, his fingers grazing the strings of his ebony guitar lazily. The pang of mourning and guilt hit him again as each note rang out.

There they sat in his bedroom with different posters of all kinds plastered on every inch of the walls. Namine sat prettily on his bed, her glazed eyes seemed to stare at nothing and everything. Roxas sat at her feet, head resting on her knee as the silence was comforting around the pair.

"Namine? Why do you do this?"

A hand ran itself through his blond locks in a soothing manner, but no answer came. A shiver ran down his spine. Was it just him or did the air just get filled with a chilling depression?

"I never found out how she survived

All of the sadness she kept inside."

A week later at school, they—being Roxas, Demyx, Zexion, and Namine—were seated underneath a large oak tree during lunch break on a sunny day. It was peaceful, despite the random noise from the other kids. Demyx and Zexion were engaged in a heated discussion about musical composers and were oblivious to their surroundings. But Roxas stole a look at the silent girl beside him who wore a long sleeved shirt, jeans, and more make-up than needed.

Her normally crystal clear gaze was glazed as she simply stared at the book in her lap; it wasn't even open. Worry etched in the boy's heart as he wondered how she hadn't lost her mind yet.

"Nam? You okay?"

At the sound of her name, her gaze immediately became alert and looked up at the young boy. Quickly, a smile graced her features and even as she spoke in a cheerful tone, he knew...

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be, silly?"

It was fake.

"I never found out how she could lie

With a smile on her face—and the scratches she'd hide."

Fingers continued to strum on taut guitar strings, playing the melody strongly as the young blond opened his sorrowful blue eyes to stare at the soiled ground beneath him. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, he looked up to see a few more people had gathered around them with their full attention.

Roxas remembered a few faces from back then, even though it was almost five years in the past. Faceless strangers that all looked the same with their two-piece suits and fancy leather briefcases; masquerading as devoted husbands and loving fathers by day, but spending hundreds of dollars for a cheap thrill by night.

"You could love her—if you paid,

You could have her—everyday."

He always hated them for tainting her innocent in such a way. But he could never figure out if he hated those strangers more, or the poor girl's parents who were supposed to love and protect her instead of indulging in violence and dirty needles.

The blond's bright blue eyes fell to the floor when a wave of emotion fell over him. His fingers worked like they had their own mind, his voice never faltering as Roxas remembered how he would lay awake in his bedroom, praying to whoever listened that the next day she'd have brought herself out of the hell she lived in; only to be disappointed the next morning when he would see her with those dead eyes and baggy clothes.

"You could love her—if you prayed,

You could have her—every way."

Roxas was walking towards the school's gymnasium, late for class again, but he didn't mind. He hated gym. But on his way down the normally silent hallway he heard the sound of a soft voice. Looking around to pin point it, he surmised that it was coming from one of the empty classrooms to his left. Standing on his tiptoes, he peered into the door's window to see a shadowed room with desks and chairs; a silhouetted figure knelt on the floor in between the rows. The figures' hands covered its face and it seemed to be shaking.

"Down on her knees, she wept on the floor

This hopeless life she wanted no more."

The next time he actually talked with Namine—instead of seeing her pass by in the hallways—was a week later; and she looked like absolute hell.

"Dead in her mind and cold to the bone

She opened her eyes and saw she was alone."

Her bleach blonde hair was ruffled, bright blue eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. Her clothes were extremely baggy but she seemed comfortable wearing them. She sat down next to Roxas silently in the school's lunch room, trying her hardest to just disappear. But when he'd ask her what happened, she'd just smile and shake her head.

"She never found out how much I tried

All of the sadness she kept made me blind."

Months later brought them closer to the end of the year and Roxas was worried out of his wits. The slightly younger blond girl hadn't shown up to school for a few days, something she hadn't done before. No matter how many bruises littered her pale flesh or the amount of addicting taint ran through her veins, she always attended her classes.

When the day ended, the boy made his way to her house. It was a small structure; simple with the necessary two bedroom and two bathroom arrangement. Seeing the driveway was empty, Roxas took his copy of her house key and unlocked the front door. The curtains were drawn, encasing the living room in complete darkness.

"Nam?" he called out only to be greeted by silence. Fear gripped him tightly as he briskly strode through each of the dark rooms. Empty Vodka and Crown Royal bottles littered the floor, a few empty syringes and used condoms hid themselves poorly in a couple of dusty corners. The stench of booze, stale sex, vomit, and ammonia got stronger as he moved deeper into the dark house.

'God, let her be alright.'

When he reached the last room, he saw a soft golden light emitting from underneath the closed door. Furrowing his brow, his heart sped up painfully. Bracing himself, he pushed it open. Spent rubbers of all different sizes and colors were piled in a small tin trash bin with a fair amount of used needles and matches. The twin-size bed was in a state of disarray—were those blood stains on the sheets?—posters shredded from the walls and her precious drawings were ruined by a substance that the boy didn't even want to think about.

The sound of creaking wood brought his blue eyed gaze to the far corner of the tiny bedroom and his heart dropped painfully into the pit of his stomach. His eyes widened in horror at what he saw. Thick rope was tied to a rafter that was exposed in the ceiling, slowly swaying with the weight of what lay on the other end. Cloudy and glazed eyes that were once the brightest blue stared lifelessly at him, framed by dirtied locks of blonde hair. Seeing that broken and used body swinging faintly was all it took before the bile rose up in his throat and tears stung his eyes. He all but flung himself around the doorway, gripping it desperately to keep his shaking legs steady, and vomited what remained of his lunch to the ground.

"She never found out how much I cried,

The rope so tight on the night that she died."

Returning from his memories, he wasn't aware that the tears were falling until thin arms wrapped around his waist from behind. The comforting scent of raspberries and ash washed over him and he let out a shuddering breath. Sparing a glance to the crowd, he was surprised to see many of them with such sadness in their eyes. But it never amounted to the guilt and heartache that weight heavily on his heart. He should have been able to stop her! Why didn't he see how much she was hurting?

"You could love her—if you paid,

You could have her—everyday."

It was their fault she took her own life. Her own parents didn't even take care of her. If anything, they were originally the ones to blame.

They infested her with the drugs that left her empty.

They thrust the two-faced men inside of her to taint her innocence.

"You could love her—if you prayed,

You could have her—every way."

Letting his voice trail away, Roxas bowed his head as his fingers brushed the last chord on his guitar; the sound blending with the final note from Demyx's sitar. The drowning sound of applause soared through the air, making it swell with the echo from the tunnel. Wordlessly, he slid out of Axel's grasp and began to put his instrument in its case.

"Can you sort through out profits, Dem? I—think I'm gonna go home," Roxas asked quietly, trying to keep his tone from wavering, but with little success.

"Yeah, Rox. Axel, make sure he gets home okay, yeah?"

With a nod, both teens left the transit station and further into town. Images of bright blue eyes and platinum blonde hair flashed before his eyes. All those smiles were just fragments of a carefully constructed mask, glued together with blood, sweat, and tears.

I never found out how she survived,

A life lived in lies is a life of denial.

Every time he'd ask if she was alright was only a waste of breath. She would reply that there was nothing wrong, despite the plea for help hiding in those blue orbs. And every time that smile would grace her face, Roxas would wonder how those lies could be so perfect.

I never found out how she could lie,

With a smile on her face and the darkness inside

Thin arms wrapped around his shoulders as they both stood at the top of the hill that overlooked the train tracks. Bright red hair brushed against his dampened cheeks as a warm breeze brushed past them. Lips graced his temple in a soothing caress.

"Roxy, baby," Axel's voice purred lovingly, "it's okay. You did what ya could for her."

You could love her—if you paid,

You could have her—everyday.

"It wasn't enough," Roxas whispered weakly, blue eyes clouded with tears. A shiver ran down his spine and he reached up to grab his lover's hand in his; trembling fingers automatically entwined and meshed.

You could love her—if you prayed,

You could have her—every way.

"I saw her in so much pain everyday, Axel. And in the end," he paused, swallowing around the hard lump in his throat. "I saw her end it. I just hope that she's no longer suffering."

"I'm sure that wherever she is, she's happy and dirtying her hands with her charcoals and pastels, love."

You could love her—if you paid,

You could have her—everyday.

In response to the redheads' comment, a warm gentle breeze caressed their bodies. And right then Roxas knew that Namine was safe and pure once more.

You could love her—if you prayed

You could have her—every way.

A/N: This was so hard to write. It took me forever to finish and by the time I did, I was almost In tears! :sigh: I feel so accomplished with this, and now that it's over, I can work on the other stuff I've been putting off. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it!