Second fanfiction! Enjoy!
"Pretty girl is suffering, while he confesses everything. Pretty soon she'll figure out what his intentions were about. And that's what you get for falling again, you can never get him outta your head. And that's what you get for falling again, you can never get him outta your head…"-Sugarcult
You know that feeling where the only thing you want to do is scream your head off? Just flail and kick. Anything to release anger, even if you look like a two-year-old throwing a hissy fit.
Or the need to just be numb, because feeling is tearing you up inside. And more than anything you just want to stop feeling the way you do.
You continue on, pretending to be okay. Smiling when someone talks to you, or laughing at a joke you're told. But the smile is too wide. The laughter is too loud, fake sounding. And you can't tell if it's just that way to you or if everyone else notices it too.
When someone else asks you if everything's fine you put on a mask and act like everything's more than fine. 'Cause you don't want them to know how you really feel lost. You don't want them to know they've hurt you. The last thing you want is for them to only pay you any attention because they think they're obligated.
So you pretend not to care. Or you tell yourself to stop caring, but you might as well be telling yourself to stop breathing.
No matter how hard you try, moments replay in your head. You wish to go back to that moment when you were happy, even if it was just a fantasy.
Just a fairytale.
It takes me a moment to realize I'm drawing him again. Those eyes that change colors constantly. Sometimes they're blue, sometimes aqua.
Quickly I begin erasing the drawing, hoping no one saw anything. I press the pink eraser harder to the page, trying to get rid of the lines that had outlined his chin. The paper rips under the pressure.
Sighing, I rip it out from the notebook and crumple it up. Ugh, what a waste of perfectly good paper. I place it on the desk and begin a fresh page.
I love blank pages; it seems as if they're just begging to be filled. Picking up a red colored pencil I begin sketching the outline of the messiest hair I've ever seen in my life.
It belongs to my best-and now only- friend. I usually draw him when I can't think of anyone else. He always tells me that he doesn't mind as long draw him smiling.
Axel's like that. He believes the most important thing in life is to just live and be happy. Forget about problems that really don't matter. Don't let people get to you. His favorite thing to tell me that those who make you cry aren't worth you tears and those who are worth them won't make you cry.
And to a point he's right. The only time Axel's ever brought tears to my eyes is when he made me laugh to the point where they leaked a few tears. However, over the past few years several others have been the reason behind my crying, none of which were happy tears.
My throat tightens as a flash of silver hair and aqua eyes come to mind. I push the thought aside and pick up a green colored pencil, ready to start on Axel's eyes.
Eyes are my favorite thing to draw, especially Axel's. He always seems to be enjoying a private joke. And sometimes it feels as if those eyes see everything including deep down into my soul. Cheesy, I know. But that's how Axel is.
I'm just about to start on his left eye, when I feel someone tap on my shoulder. Already assuming what it's about I turn around.
Mrs. Gainsborough is standing there, a knowing smile on her young face. She reaches out and gently lowers the hood of my white sweatshirt from my head. I take out the tiny earbuds connected to my iPod, which I have hidden in my pocket, and smile apologetically.
"Naminé, you know the rules. No iPods in class," she tells me kindly.
"Sorry," I mutter, avoiding looking her straight in the eye. Adults tend to freak me out. They're just so judgmental.
"I'm not going to take it this time, but if I catch you with it again, I'm going to have to."
I nod and pocket the tiny white iPod.
"How'd you know?" I ask her.
She laughs lightly. "I've been calling your name for the past two minutes. It's your day to present something to the class."
My cheeks heat up as I look around the class. Sure enough, they're all staring at me. Some with smirks. Some looking as they could care less.
Standing up I grab my portfolio from off my desk and walk slowly to the front of the class. Everyone's watching me now. Waiting for me to just hurry up and start so they can go back to drawing, or more likely talking.
"Um," I stammer. My portfolio slips from fingers and slides to the floor.
"Nice," a boy hisses from the class. Several of the preppy girls giggle as if he just said the best joke in the world.
I pick up my portfolio and grab the first thing lying on top. My heart stops as I recognize the outline of the jaw, the perfection of the hair, the bright aqua eyes, which is the only color in the whole drawing.
"That's lovely, Naminé," the teacher states.
A few snippets of whispers travel around the room. Trying my best to ignore them I start to put the drawing back, but Mrs. Gainsborough stops me.
"No, I want that to be what you share. It's absolutely magnificent."
I want nothing more to place the picture back in the folder and never have to look at it again, but I clip it instead to the easel in the front of the room.
The class stares at it for a few minutes with out anyone raising their hand. That's how these show-and-tell things go. Everyday, about a half an hour before the end of the period one person shares a piece of artwork. They then have to stand there in complete torment until someone from the class raises their hand and begins to critique it.
It's supposed to give the artist constructive criticism, as well as allow the students to analysis art and broaden their horizons and other crap like that. In actuality it means one victim a day gets to face the firing squad.
'Cause that's basically what high school is.
Finally, what feels like hours one of the annoying idiots, a.k.a Kairi, says, "Isn't that Riku?"
Of course, everyone knows it's Riku, even her. Her only goal in saying that was to humiliate me even more than I already am.
More snickers go around the room. My face is beet red now, I can just tell.
"Come on, class," the teacher instructs. "Focus on the technique. See how she used shadows?"
Half the class mummers a response. The other half has already gotten bored and started texting under their desks.
I glance at the clock. Still twenty minutes to the bell. Just twenty more minutes till lunch.
"Naminé, why don't you tell us your thoughts? Why did you choose to only color in his eyes?"
I snap my attention back to her.
"Um, cause…" I don't want to go into how eyes are the first thing I notice when I meet a guy. And how I love eyes that are shades of blue and green. How Riku's eyes were the most gorgeous ones in the whole school.
"…cause I didn't have time for anything else," I answer her lamely.
She smiles again at me, knowing that's all I'm going to say about the picture. "Very, well. You may sit down. It's an excellent drawing."
I take the drawing down and shuffle back to my seat. The class has already begun buzzing again with gossip, although not about what just happened. They've already forgotten about the shy girl who stood before them mere seconds ago.
Picking up my green pencil, I notice the crumpled up drawing is no longer on my desk. I look around frantically, thinking it might have just fallen on the floor. But I have no such luck. It's simply gone, probably taken by someone.
There's no use getting upset by it, so I continue drawing. I'm just about to finish Axel's grin, when the bell rings.
I sling my backpack over my shoulders and leave the classroom, hugging my sketchbook to my chest.
As usual he's late, leaving me there to sit at an empty picnic table with my sketchbook out. Occasionally I glance up from the tulip I'm drawing to see if he's here yet. All around me people are talking in large groups. I'm the only person sitting by myself.
Earlier a few people had given me nasty looks for taking up an entire table to myself, forcing them to sit in the grass.
Now no one acknowledges me, nor do they even glance at the girl sitting alone. She's just there in the background, observing as the world moves around her.
I spot a boy sitting against a tree, reading. Guess I'm not the only person alone as I thought. He glances up and notices me staring, so I look back down at my sketchbook and let my blonde hair cascade over my face, concealing it.
"You shouldn't do that, Naminé. You have the prettiest blue eyes."
I smile as Axel sits down with his lunch tray.
"Thanks," I mumble, closing my sketchbook.
"I'm serious. You need to stop hiding that beautiful face of yours," he replies, before taking a bite out his pizza.
I nod, just to get him to stop.
He frowns at me, knowing exactly what I'm doing, but doesn't press the issue any further.
"So anything new?" I ask between bites of my sandwich.
"Nah. Just more techie stuff after school. Uber fun," he ends with sarcasm.
"Since when don't you like moving scenery and working lights? Or whatever you do for the school plays?"
"Since the drama kids all suck at remembering their lines and cues, so I'm stuck listening to the drama teacher yell at them," he answers.
He shrugs and takes another bite out of his pizza. "It's all good. So…"
"Have you heard from him?" he asks.
I look down at the table and shake my head.
"He's a moron, you know," Axel assures me.
"No he's not," I whisper, still staring at the crude drawings on the table.
Seriously why does every idiot find drawing the male reproductive organ on every surface, amusing?
"Naminé, look at me!" Axel demands.
I glance up. Those green eyes of his burn into me.
"The last thing you should be doing is blaming yourself for what happened. It was his fault. So don't you dare start thinking you're worthless," he responds.
"I wasn't-"I begin to argue.
"You so were," he interrupts. Then giving me a smile he asks, "So have you heard back from that art place?"
As if I didn't have enough to worry about. I'd almost completely forgotten about the Twilight Institute of Art. Earlier this year I had applied for a spot in their summer program. It was very exclusive- they only took about thirty kids from all over the county to come and study art from a whole month. You had to be recommended to the program by an art teacher to even be considered. Then you had to send in ten pieces of your best artwork. The whole program was very prestigious, and even offered some hefty scholarships to the best of the best.
"They haven't called."
"You're going to get accepted. Naminé, your artwork is some of the most impressive shit I've ever seen," Axel says.
"Thanks." Not a hundred percent sure if that's a compliment, but it's coming from Axel so I'm assuming it is.
We continue eating and talking until the bell rings. Axel grabs his tray as well as my trash and throws it away.
Now it's off to my least favorite class of the day. Physics.
What's the point? I'm never going to need to know any of this. It's just a waste of time.
Okay, the major reason is that I currently have a D in the class. I'm no Einstein when it comes to school. Mostly Bs with the occasional A. But, still a D is pretty bad for me.
The thing I hate the most is that it's not even entirely my fault. My teacher, Mr. Sephiroth is the epitome of evil. That's not an excuse. It's true.
Of course no one believes me, with the exception of the other victims in his classes. My parents just think I don't try hard enough. They don't believe me when I tell them that he never explains anything so we can understand.
He's also one of those teachers that assigns a mountain of homework every night and rarely ever collects it. And when he does, it's the time you didn't complete it 'cause you didn't feel like doing two hours worth of hard work on something that doesn't even count for a grade.
So every other day after lunch, I trudge downstairs to the Physics classroom and say a mental prayer that he's not here and we get a substitute for class. And every day I peek inside the class and see him sitting there with an evil smile on his face, ready to start torturing us.
However it comes as a complete shock to me, when I look inside and not only is Mr. Sephiroth not there, but some guy is sitting in my seat.
Immediately, I recognize him as the boy who was reading in the courtyard during lunch. Even now, he has his book open.
I walk to the way back of the class. It's obvious Mr. Sephiroth has given up all hope that I will do decent in his class, cause he's placed me at the back, in the corner. I don't even have a science partner. The other spot at the two person table is vacant.
Or at least it was. I supposed this guy's new. And taking in his ripped jeans, messy (even more so than Axel's) blonde hair, and sweatshirt with a skateboarding logo that I recognize, I also assume he's no overachiever.
Wrong to stereotype, I know, but people at this school fit pattern and this guy screams either skater, loner, and/or possibly stoner. The book is throwing me off though. Still, it's no shocker that he chose a seat in the back, next to the window.
The guy doesn't even glance up as I sit down in the seat that is next to mine. I don't want to correct him, so I decide to just sit in the other spot. It doesn't matter to me.
Pretty soon, the rest of the class trickles in. They all exclaim with joy when they realize the teacher's not there. A few throw curious looks at the new boy, but mostly they're all talking, hoping he's really not here and not just late or something.
When the final bell rings, there's still no sign of the teacher, or even a sub. So the noise level increases.
No one talks to me. They never do, so I'm used to it. But, still I can't help but feel like a pathetic loser. 'Cause the truth is that I don't even have the excuse of being the new girl. I've been going to the same school with the same group of people since forever.
I'm invisible. I'm accustomed to it. Happy about it? No. But still used to it.
Blocking all the noise out, I place my sketchbook in my lap and start drawing. Concentrating all my will into not drawing Riku, I sketch instead a lone rose in a vase, its petal falling off and onto a table.
Slightly dark of me, I know, but it's just the kind of mood I'm in at the moment. When I'm finished with the rose I turn to a new page and begin to draw a worn teddy bear dangling from the clutch of a young girl.
Her long hair is being swept in front of her face by wind, leaving only her eyes and a tiny bit of her face visible.
"Why is she crying?" asks a voice, making me jump.
I look up from my drawing. The boy next to me is looking down at it, where I had absentmindedly been drawing tears sliding down her cheek.
He looks back up at me.
I feel my heartbeat increase. His brilliant, sapphire eyes lock onto mine. There are the absolute most stunning eyes I've ever seen. They make Riku's seem dull in comparison.
I want to badly draw those eyes. They're deep; almost as if I were to fall into them I'd never be able to find my way back.
"You okay?" he says, smirking.
Blushing, I look away from his eyes and nod.
"So, why is she sad?"
I'm just about to answer when the door opens. The whole class collectively looks towards it and cheers.
"So, sorry. You're teacher didn't leave any sort of lesson plan so I had to ask another teacher. She says you guys are in a very different place than any other class so she has no clue. But you're all in luck because she lent me a movie for you guys to watch," the sub says.
Again, the class cheers. The sub smiles at us and starts fiddling with the DVD player.
"Now, no talking. Everyone needs to write a whole page on what you've learned in the video."
The class groans. For a minute all is silent except for the sound of backpacks being unzipped and the shuffle of papers.
Someone stands up and turns off the lights. A few whispers begin, but the sub shushes them and starts the movie.
Two seconds into it, I'm bored out of my mind.
I'm also not the only one. The boy next to me, whose name I still don't know, is reading his book under the desk.
Following his example, I draw under my desk. I'm already practically failing the class. One more zero in the grade book isn't going to affect me much.
I'm still working on the girl's teddy bear, when I feel someone poking me lightly on the arm.
Knowing it's the boy, I peek up at him. He smiles at me and takes my pencil out of my hand.
Not knowing how to respond to this, I let him. He lifts up the page I'm writing on and starts scribbling on the next one. Or at least that what it looks like. Wow, his handwriting is messy.
He places the pencil on the desk and returns to reading his book.
Curious, I lift the page and squint at his barely legible writing.
I'm Roxas. What's your name?
I reread it two more times, shocked. Then, I respond back with It's Naminé.
I don't know what else to write, so I push the sketchbook towards him. After a few seconds he closes his book and reads what I wrote.
Grinning at me, he slides the pencil out from my grip and writes some more. This time, it takes him longer. He pushes the book back towards me when he finishes.
Hi, Naminé. I bet you get this all the time, but you're really talented at drawing. Just thought you'd like to hear it, for probably the hundredth time.
I can't help but smile. With the exception of Axel, my art teacher, and as much as I don't want to think of him, Riku, no one's ever told me that. Even my parents don't tell me that. They think wanting to be an artist is a poor and impractical decision.
Thanks. I see you like to read. What are you reading? I respond back with.
This time I don't even need to move the sketchbook towards Roxas. The moment I put my pencil down, he reaches over and takes the book.
Without writing anything back he nudges the sketchbook over to me. I feel disappointed instantly. He's already bored, ready to move on.
I flip the page back to my drawing and am just about to continue working on it, when I feel another light poke.
A novel is placed on top of my drawing.
"Catcher in the Rye"
"It's my favorite," Roxas whispers. "Ever read it?"
I look up at him and shake my head. "I don't read much."
He picks his book up. But instead of cracking it open and starting to read again, he puts it on top of his desk.
"To each his own. What else do you like, besides drawing I mean?"
"Um," I stammer. Drawing is pretty much all I do, so I have no clue what to say.
But it doesn't matter, 'cause the second I open to tell him this, the bell rings.
Whoa, the class went by fast. I guess I just zoned out while drawing, that I didn't notice the sub hadn't arrived until thirty minutes left of class.
Roxas picks up his book and his book bag, which his slings over his neck, onto one shoulder.
"See you next class, Naminé," he says.
"Yeah, see you."
With one last smile he heads towards the front of the class. I place my pencil back into my backpack and grab my stuff.
Leaving the classroom, I join the traffic and head toward my locker. People jostle into me, but I try my best to not bump into anyone. I really hate the hallways. Especially those idiots who like to block everyone's way or those who walk at a snail pace and then sped up as you try to get around them.
Some jerk pushes his friend into me and then makes a rude gesture. 'Cause it was totally my fault not his. Ugh, I despise morons.
I'm mentally cussing him out, when I spot him. He's leaning against my locker, those blue eyes looking around.
No! I was hoping to avoid him.
But it's too late to turn around, leaving my textbook back at my locker and claim I forgot it at home.
He's already spotted me and is waiting for me to come closer.
I give him a weak smile as I stand in front of him. He wraps his arms around me. I leave my hands at my sides, but he refuses to let go. So, I return his hug for a moment, before pulling away.
"Hey, Naminé," he says.
I turn away and start doing the combination for my locker. All the while I can sense him standing there, staring at me. I mess up on the combo twice before getting it right. Quickly I grab my textbook for my next class and slam the locker shut.
Without looking at him, I start to walk away. But no such luck. He gently grabs my arm, stopping me.
"I need to get to class," I tell him, staring at his shirt.
I remain silent. Why is he doing this? Can't he see that I don't want to talk to him? Or at least that it hurts to. Cause more than anything I want to talk to him, joke around like we used to. More than anything I want it to be like before. Before I did the dumbest thing I've done in a long time.
But, no matter how hard I want to change things, I know they won't. So why make myself suffer anymore?
"Naminé, please look at me," he says softly.
I listen to him and glance up, meeting his eyes. My stomach does a flip-flop as our eyes make contact. Immediately I feel another tear in my heart.
Ugh, I'm so pathetic.
"What, Riku? What do you want?" I ask, feeling even more dismal of the apparent hurt in my voice.
"I'm sorry," he answers sincerely. "Are you okay?"
Time for my mask. I smile at him and respond, "Yeah, I'm really great."
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I nod. I just want him to let me leave. Every second I get closer to letting loose the tears I'm trying to hold back.
"You're not acting like Naminé, though."
My heart twisted as the words left his mouth. I wanted to snap back "You don't know me", but I didn't.
Instead I smiled at him. "I'm good. Honestly."
He stared at me for a second before nodding. "I guess I'll see you later." He hugged me again, this time tighter. But it was nothing more than a friend hug, if even that. More like a pity hug.
I pulled away after a few seconds. "Bye."
"Bye, Naminé." He gave me one look of uncertainty, before turning around and going to his next class.
I watched him go for a second, before walking down the hall. The tears fell freely now.
My mask dissolved.
"And that's what you get for falling again, you can never get him outta your head."
So what did you all think? Review and tell me what you think!