Our Favourite Parts.

1. Fair.
She sits alone in her white windowless room with her upper body slightly slumped over a drawing of a boy with sun-kissed spikes and black clothing. She thinks about him and how they're worlds apart and if it was ever supposed to be like this in the first place.

2. Time.
As necessary as it was he couldn't help but despise it with every fibre of his non-being, only because it was a constant reminder of how limited their days together were.

3. Heart.
It was supposedly the centrepoint of every living being; without it no one could survive. He tilts his head in confusion as he watches her draw, wondering if it was possible to find a substitute.

4. Feel.
She knew she wasn't able to express emotion, to be capable of receiving or giving feelings. It was something Nobodies couldn't do - it was supposed to be impossible. If all of that was true then why did she feel a strange stirring inside whenever he smiled at her?

5. Lie.
"So...everything I've ever known - the friends I've made, the things I've done, the memories I have - they're all made-up, and you made me believe they were all true." His words drive into her slowly like twisting knives and she bites her bottom lip in a vain attempt to keep the tears from falling.

6. Princess.
There was a prince for every one, wasn't there? She mulls over her thoughts as she draws the strange castle she's held captive in, silently wishing hers would come and sweep her off her feet soon.

7. Saviour.
Don't get her wrong; when he frantically bounded towards her - blue irises alight and brown spikes springing everywhere - she was happy to see him, but deep down inside she desired for solemner-looking eyes and sandy blond tufts.

8. Sleep.
She watches him writhe against the sheets, his eyes clamped tight and the sweat coating his sickly pale forehead. The fact he was having a nightmare was painful enough, but what hurt her the most was that she knew she couldn't do anything to get him out of it.

9. Flames.
Tiny embers licked the tips of his fingers and toes. An inferno raged in his lower abdomen and a hissing fire was rising from the back of his throat - he knew first kisses were something to be remembered by, but he never expected it to be like this.

10. Pictures.
She gently tears her latest creation out of her sketchbook and rises from her chair, absently dusting off her white skirt as she makes her way towards the closest vacant spot on the blank wall. Almost every one of the drawings taped up in her room are of a blonde girl and a blond boy, but it's unclear as to whether she's aware of it or not.

11. Pacify.
He cradles her close and gingerly presses her head to his chest. "Every beat you don't hear is for you." He whispers as her eyes flutter to a close.

12. Music.
"Roxas!" He grins stupidly, ignoring her playful peals of protest and grabbing her hands as they spin to the twangy trilling of Demyx's sitar.

13. Thirteen.
She diligently listens to him complain about how he's sick of being the second-lowest rank and how he hates being the runt of the litter, but when she shyly cuts in to tell him how it just happened to be her favourite number she can't help but grin when she eyes the flustered expression on his face.

14. Bright.
He views his life as a murky, inky blob of black fog: he can't remember anything of his past, his best friends are keeping secrets from him and with all the conspiracy swirling about in the Organization lately he can't help but feel like he hasn't been doing anything besides mindlessly wandering around in the dark. When he looks at her, however, it's as if the fog has lifted and the sun has come out, and for a little while everything looks better than it should.

15. Fake.
He laughs heartily with his friends as they cut through the sandlot with their hands clutching their favourite frozen blue treats. She watches from the roof of a nearby apartment building with a single tear sliding down her cheek; if only he knew, but then again it might be better if he didn't.

16. Sky.
That's what his name meant when the letters were re-arranged and the 'x' was taken out. It also became someone else's name. He frowns and stares down at his hands, wondering if he ever had anything that belonged to him and him alone in the first place.

17. Warm.
She didn't know how else to describe it when he first touched her; her insides felt like they were swelling rapidly, so quickly in fact she feared she was going to burst.

18. Apologize.
She swallows down yet another lump in her throat as she sketches quickly; her head briefly lifts upwards from her drawing pad to tearily gaze at his slumped form a few feet away from her, and the only thing running through her head at the moment was I'm sorry.

19. Seashells.
She frowns at Xion's unconscious form, pity for the darker-haired girl ringing inside of her hollow chest. She reaches forward to graze her fingers against one of the many coloured shells lying by the sleeping girl's head, and the pain inside only rings louder.

20. Touch.
Curious, shy hands wander around in the dark, skimming, caressing, feeling, searching. The brushing sensation of gentle fingertips against her heated skin makes her close her eyes in ecstasy, and when she felt said fingertips apply pressure to the sensitive spot on her back she sucks in a sharp breath.

21. Waves.
When he closes his eyes for the night the first thing that comes to mind is a strange swishing noise. He would always wake up soon afterward to rub his ears, wondering if his hearing was going.

22. Smile.
She hardly ever did it now that he was worlds away from her; there was no longer a reason to do it.

23. Envy.
She could picture the three of them (best friends - was that what they called themselves?) laughing together atop the clock tower, talking about nothing and eating stick after stick of bright blue ice cream, and it would only make the pain in her chest ring louder.

24. Guilt.
"Maybe today we'll finally hit the beach!" She watches him race eagerly towards the Usual Spot, and she turns away to fight back a sob.

25. Rain.
Everything about her reminded him of it for some reason: she smelled like the air after a spring shower, her eyes reminded him of the clear drops of dew dangling on the edges of leaves, her breath was cool like morning mist and her taste lingered on his lips like the last drops at the end of a storm.

26. Whole.
Their limbs tangled together, their fingers intertwining and locking. The contours of their bodies conformed to each other like fitting jigsaw pieces. When their lips met they were in perfect symmetry. At this point it was clear neither of them needed a heart - they were two halves to something bigger, more complete.

27. Memory.
His fingers absently trace the lines of crayon on one of the many pieces of paper taped to the white walls of the room, his forehead scrunched together with the notion of trying to remember something that was lost. She watches him wordlessly as he sifts around, white clothes and checkers and all, and wonders if it's possible for him to remember.

28. Weak.
She angrily tears down the pieces of paper taped up on the walls, tears of frustration streaming down her pallid face. She finally breaks down, slumping against the wall and sobbing into her arms. She never wanted this and she never wanted to do this to him, so why did she agree to do it in the first place?

29. Shadows.
She swears she could see things moving and twitching against the walls at night, but whenever she tells him with her voice at least three octaves higher than usual and her trembling fists clutching the sheets to her chest he laughs it off and kisses her forehead, assuring her that it's natural to be afraid.

30. Fragments.
Sometimes the past would flicker back to him in disorganized bits and pieces - light blonde hair, big blue eyes, soft pale skin - and the harder he thought about it the more his chest hurt, yet he had no idea why.

31. Nobodies.
It's what Ansem called them. It's what their title was, and it was what they were supposed to be. He still thinks it should be changed though: he thought they didn't have hearts, not bodies.

32. Key.
He summons his weapon and it appears in his hand in a flash of light. She stares in awe as he absently swings it around, and an odd yet familiar feeling strikes a chord within her: why does she have the feeling she's seen this somewhere before?

33. Ghost.
"Hello, Roxas." The dim sunlight glowed eerily on her ashen skin and illuminated her flaxen hair; he wasn't sure if he was frightened or enchanted, or maybe both at the same time.

34. Hero.
He didn't know what it took to be one - that strange Phil character never really told him anything specific - but he had a feeling it had to do something with protecting someone. Oh well, it didn't really matter to him if he was right or wrong - he'd be watching out for her regardless.

35. Blush.
The first time he saw the adorable red painted on her pallid cheeks he thought of how it made her look even more irresistible than she already did. Now he puts every ounce of effort into trying to make her do it as many times as possible, much to her annoyance.

36. Vacation.
His first day off was confusing: what did he want to do? After a few seconds of thinking about it he realized he already knew the answer, and he zipped off towards the white room on the topmost floor of the castle.

37. Voice.
If he closed his eyes he could hear something soft and feminine whispering his name. It sounded so clear, so real...but whenever he opened his eyes to return to the real world his shoulders would sag in disappointment when he realizes he's still by himself.

38. Black.
He hated wearing this thing, especially when she was around; in comparison to her small white dress his leather cloak made him feel like he was some sort of monster, a heathen. It made him feel evil and impure, and he detested it.

39. Tool.
She watches him and VIII converse with VII in the Grey Area, their faces stony with seriousness and work-ethic. She shakes her head and tries to continue sketching, but the guilt pushing against her ribs is so great she fears she'll break down right then and there.

40. Misfit.
She thinks about Sora, Riku and Kairi racing each other on white sands. She pictures Hayner, Pence and Olette laughing together in the Usual Spot. She envisions him, Axel and Xion enjoying sea-salt ice cream atop the clock tower. A single tear slips down her cheek and she hastily wipes it away with the back of her hand, forcing herself to continue with her drawing.

41. Forgotten.
The random flashbacks of the strange places were second-nature to him now; whenever it happened he would just sit back and watch with slight interest - it was the sporadic images of the pale blonde girl that always threw him off course.

42. Free.
She glanced up at Riku's hooded figure before shifting her gaze over to Axel, who was distractedly staring out into the strange green ocean. Her eyes then lower to the portrait in her hands - the one of a blond boy and a brunet standing beside each other - and it was then she realized what she wanted to do, now that nobody was around to hold her down anymore.

43. Blind.
Without a light to guide you, you're left in the dark. He realizes this now as he blinks through the rainy gloom, trying to pinpoint the yellow glints of the various eyes that were staring up at him.

44. Glide.
Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. He purses his lips in concentration and clamps his eyes shut, forcing himself to think of pale blonde hair, silvery blue eyes and a small, shy smile. His mouth relaxes into an awed gape when he feels himself floating just a few inches off the ground.

45. Witch.
He never really liked it whenever she referred to herself with such a negative term, but every time he suggested more fitting ones - 'angel', for example - she would vehemently refuse, much to his confusion.

46. Boy.
She would look at him, and sometimes she would picture brown hair, a cheeky grin and a mischievous twinkle in his blue, blue eyes. She would feel guilty every time this happened - why would she ever want to think of somebody else whenever she was with him?

47. Dreams.
She subconsciously yearned for blue water, warm sand and a bright circular sun beating over her head; hours later she would wake up every morning wondering if such a place really existed.

48. Hollow.
He presses a hand to his chest and frowns when he doesn't feel anything beating inside. He glances up at his best friend, who gives him an apologetic grin. "Why else would Superior be sendin' us out all the time to collect hearts?"

49. Caged.
Marluxia simpered and jutted his chin towards the birdcage dangling over her head. "A dove in captivity, that's what you are. Something so small, petite and pretty all cooped up with no one to come and save you." His words pierce her and she grips the hem of her dress to keep from crying.

50. Everything.
He gazes at her sleeping form - rolled on her side, tiny shoulders rising and falling, eyelashes quivering - and reaches to brush the hair away from her eyes. His empty chest fills with something he can't describe as he pulls her into his embrace.

51. Whisper.
He would always murmur comforting, loving words in her ear to help her sleep at night; the low mumbling of his gruff voice was enough to distract her from the nightmares that threatened to keep her up. Now that he was gone she had only begun to realize how deafening the silence was.

52. Kiss.
He carefully cradles her face in his hands, gently brushing his thumbs underneath her eyes. He smiles slightly when he feels the embarrassment heating up in her cheeks, and leans in slowly so that their foreheads are touching. "Don't be nervous." He smiles for her one last time before touching her lips with his.

53. Different.
She tugs on the hem of her snowy dress and tilts her head at his sweeping black cloak and sinister leather hood; was Xemnas implying something?

54. Blond.
She curiously reaches upwards to poke her fingers on the tips of his sun-kissed spikes, blinking in awe when she realizes how soft they feel. She runs her hands through his gold-spun locks, smiling at the sensation, and gives him a shy smile when he lowers the both of them onto her bed.

55. Disappear.
She said it won't happen to him. Instead, she said he would be whole. He shakes his head at her strange words - for some reason something didn't seem right about what she said. How could he be whole if he was never supposed to be here in the first place?

56. Goodbye.
He looks at her with longing, desperation - please don't leave me - but he knows there's nothing he can do, and he knows she knows it too. He steps forwards and laces their fingers together for what hopefully won't be the last time and gives her a small smile. She tries to smile back, but it only ends up in tears and she forces herself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder - I don't want to be apart from you.

57. Helpless.
She stifles a cry as she tumbles towards the white floor, her cheek stinging and her eyes watery. Larxene towers over her, cackling triumphantly. "I don't get what he sees in you - it's a wonder how anyone could ever feel anything for such a waste of space!" Once the older woman slams the door behind her she curls up on her spot on the floor and sobs some more, feeling even weaker than usual.

58. Cry.
He watched the fat, crystalline tears roll carelessly down her cheeks and he gritted his teeth as he stood up slowly from his seat, his leather-clad hands trembling against his sides as he stormed towards the door - whoever hurt her was going to pay.

59. Embrace.
"Shh," He hushes her, wrapping his arms around her small body and cradling her close to his chest, "It's okay, I'm here now. There's nothing to be afraid of." She sniffles and buries her head into his shoulder, reveling in the warmth and safety of his arms. He smiles and nuzzles his head against hers, rubbing her upper arms to cease her trembling.

60. Beautiful.
There was just something about the way she looked at him, the way she said his name, the way her arms felt around his neck, the way she tasted, the way she smelled. Everything about her bedazzled him, entranced him and intrigued him - it was something he never found in anybody else. Was there even a proper word to describe such a thing?

61. Familiar.
When he first saw her - the strange, pretty girl who stopped time and approached him in the middle of the street - he couldn't help but feel like he met her somewhere before.

62. Sketch.
She frustratingly tore the page out of her sketchbook, bunching it up into a crumpled ball and tossing it over her shoulder. Ever since they were separated she could never get his face right anymore.

63. Pain.
"No, you're lying! She can't be gone, she can't be…" Axel cringed as he stumbled onto the hard stony floor, stars flickering in and out of his vision. When he finally got his eyes to focus, however, the first thing he saw was the silvery end of his best friend's Keyblade; he should've just told him the truth and not what she wanted him to say.

64. Defeat.
As he watched Axel's form fade into the black and purple mist he shook his head and stared at his Keyblades in disdain; was winning that fight really worth it?

65. Together.
The ache inside her pulsed louder with every passing second as they laid together in her bed, her face pressed into the crook of his neck and his arms fastened around her slim waist. Their time was running out, and they both knew it.

66. Friend.
She sat awkwardly beside the tall redhead, her fingers absently playing with each other on her lap. The tension between them was suffocating - or at least that's what she thought before he tentatively handed her a stick of sea-salt ice cream.

67. Wrong.
She watched helplessly as Larxene towered over Sora, her sneer growing with every cruel word dripping out of her foul mouth. The disbelief, the hurt strewn all over the boy's face was almost too much to bear - because of her he was in pain, and because of her he had forgotten the name of the girl who meant everything to him. Everything was her fault, everything was a wreck because of what she had done. Nothing she had ever done in her short life was right - it was like she existed only to hurt others.

68. Fit.
They were the only ones: they had no memory of their past, they were capable of feeling real emotions and they were in possession of extraordinary powers. Axel would always nudge him playfully and say, "How could it get anymore obvious?" And would break out in laughter when he stared at him questionably with one eyebrow raised.

69. Blue.
She always found it difficult when it came to colour his eyes; it was almost impossible to replicate its colour - or maybe she was beginning to forget what they looked like.

70. Alone.
She could feel the warmth of his arms around her, the smell of his skin and the soft mess of his hair in between her fingers. She could hear his voice murmuring into her ear and his hands absently playing with her hair. She would wake up minutes later to find herself in her white room with tears streaking her pale face, and she would choke on a sob as she hugged herself in the dark.

71. Missing.
He woke up with a start, shaking his head and running his trembling fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. He glanced at the empty spot beside him and wondered why his bed suddenly felt too big, too spacious.

72. Face.
"Roxas?" He glanced up to see a small nose, a pink mouth, curious blue eyes and smooth skin and he would smile at first, but when he noticed the jagged ends of Xion's black hair he would cringe - the resemblance was uncannily painful.

73. Gentle.
He found it difficult whenever he was alone with her - the temptation to touch was almost always overwhelming, but at the same time he felt like he was handling a porcelain doll or a glass vase: fragile, delicate and precious. He would even feel afraid sometimes, afraid he might not able to control himself one day and he would end up breaking her, or worse. She was just so perfect - he felt like if anything touched her, including himself, she would be tainted somehow.

74. Lost.
The mystery of the Organization and Xion's demise by his own hands were clouding his perception, his vision, his goals. He aimlessly wandered around the rainy murkiness of the World That Never Was, distractedly cutting down a Heartless or two. He felt like he had no sense of direction, no destination to reach. With all the darkness threatening to enclose on him he felt there was no room for a light, a reason to think there was something to look forward to.

75. Exist.
When she told him the truth about himself his eyes widened in shock and his voice hardened with anger. She frowned and bit her bottom lip, desperate to do anything to take her words back.

76. Sunset.
He always liked sitting up on the clock tower by himself; it gave him more space for thinking and time to admire the view, but sometimes he couldn't hep but feel like he was supposed to be admiring it with somebody.

77. Pure.
The pallid moonlight drifting in from her window splashed over her, dousing her in an almost immaculate-like glow. The sight of her perfection made him want to collapse on his knees and cry.

78. Cold.
"We can't feel." His eyes are like chips of blue ice, and it chills her to the bone.

79. Eyes.
Sora's boyish blue depths glinted almost mischievously; in her head she was picturing him and how theirs were the same, but at the same time different. His never looked so carefree, so playful - not the way his brunet counterpart's did.

80. Belong.
He always felt out of place in the Organization - ever since the very first day - but whenever he stepped into that plain white room he couldn't help but feel he had been wrong this entire time.

81. Night.
At least during the day she had her sketchbook to distract her, but when it got dark and everything would quiet down the sting of his absence would make itself present, and sometimes the pain would be so great she wouldn't sleep at all.

82. Repeat.
He dreamt of a lone girl in white standing before a strange white pod, and whenever she turned around to give him a wistful smile he would always ask the same question: "Who are you?"

83. Mistake.
A single tear slips down her cheek as she glances upwards to gaze at Sora's sleeping form through the translucent glass of the pod he's encased in. She presses her fists to her chest and chokes on a sob, silently apologizing to him over and over again until she can no longer stand.

84. Protect.
"Watch over Roxas for me." Xion pleads as she pulls on her hood. In all honesty she was planning to do that from the beginning, but she gives the darker-haired girl a small smile and nods anyway.

85. Laugh.
Hers was silvery, tinkling and girlish - actually it was more of a giggle than anything, but it was enough for him. He enthralled in the wonderful sound, and as much as it irked her to admit it she secretly loved his attempts at making her do it as many times as he wanted her to.

86. Haze.
The moment he felt her lips against his skin his knees felt like they no longer existed and the whites, blacks, silvers and greys of the room began to swirl together like mixing paints. He could faintly hear her shy laughter as he stumbled back to regain his composure; he tried to grin but it only came out as an awkward grimace, and it only made her laugh louder.

87. Broken.
When Axel told him he was the only survivor from Castle Oblivion he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. He couldn't hear his best friend as he knelt over his trembling form, trying to comfort him somehow. He couldn't see an inch in front of his nose - the tears were blurring everything. He forgot how to breathe, he forgot how to speak. The burning pain scorched the hollow void where his heart should be and he bit his lip to keep from screaming.

88. Safe.
She watched him chuckle heartily with his new friends as they jogged around Twilight Town, laughing and screaming and joking with each other like any regular group of teenage friends would do on summer vacation. It hurt to watch sometimes, but she knew it was for the best.

89. Oathkeeper.
He stood up from where Xion's body faded away, clutching the two Keyblades in his leather-clad hands. In a burst of light they changed shape: one black and ominous-looking, the other white with a star motif. He glanced at the white one, squinting slightly at its peculiar design; for a second he swore he heard a voice telling him to bring it back to her.

90. Stars.
"What did you wish for?" He grins into her ear, and she flushes at their close contact. She tilts her head towards the sky and awes at the heart-shaped moon and the hundreds of sparkling, twinkling dots. She then returns her gaze to him, smiling and squeezing his hand. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

91. Ordinary.
She often daydreams about living a regular life - stressing over homework and where to hang out on the weekend, laughing and joking with friends, staying up at night doing absolutely nothing - but then again, if this mess never happened and she did live a normal life would they have ever met?

92. Bitter.
He always found it a little bothersome whenever she expressed her outlook on life: "We were meant to fade back into darkness," She would always tell him, "We were never meant to exist in the first place. We're mistakes, you see." He didn't know what caused such a negative perspective, but he was determined to change it somehow - even if all of the things she said were true.

93. X.
She always wondered why she didn't have one in her name like the others. He tells her he likes it better that way.

94. Struggle.
He lifts his new trophy and belt over his head, waving and grinning at the crowd. He spots an unfamiliar girl with blonde hair sitting by the front row, smiling wordlessly at him, and he tilts his head to the side in confusion. Hayner calls his name and looks over his shoulder to address him, but when he glances back towards the bleachers he raises a puzzled eyebrow: where did she go?

95. Tomorrow.
This was it - it was time. The next day, he would have to be forced to join with Sora. He would no longer exist; he would cease to be his own entity. She glanced up at the computer screen, the one showing him sleeping fitfully in his bed, and she immediately turned away as the tears began to fall. DiZ chuckled from his seat and shook his head. "It was your fault for growing so attached to him in the first place."

96. Try.
He hands her the strange blue treat, and she flushes when she hears him laugh at her baffled expression. She hesitantly leans in to take a slow, cautious lick, and her face immediately scrunches at the salty taste. Her eyes pop open, however, when the salt somehow melts into something much sweeter...tolerable, and she flushes a second time when she hears his laughter again.

97. Love.
It was supposed to be something two people share, something not even best friends have - apparently there was a step higher than that. According to Axel he also needed a heart to do it, but for some reason he couldn't help but disagree: if he needed a heart to do it what was he supposed to call the special something he shared with her? He knew they were more than best friends...

98. Want.
He was desperate to do anything to have ice cream with Axel and Xion again. He longed to be a separate entity from the happy-go-lucky brunet who seemed unable to see the negativity in anything. He yearned for a heart of his own, a pulse in his chest he could claim as his and his only, but after thinking about it for awhile there was only one thing (person) he truly wanted, and tears would sting his eyes when he realized how impossible it was.

99. Home.
He could feel Sora's arms beating against the salty current o the ocean, eagerness burning from his muscles as he fought his way towards the shore. He couldn't blame the guy: this was where he belonged and he had people who wanted him here. Sadly he no longer had a place like that to call his own - that is, until he looked up to meet the pale blue gaze of a certain blonde girl.

100. Promise.
"We'll be together every day, right?" She hesitantly reaches for him as they make their way towards the beach; the sun is halfway into the horizon, splashing the ocean with a variety of pinks, purples, reds, yellows and oranges. He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and smiles before tugging her closer to the shore. "Of course we will."


Think of me when you're out, when you're out there.
I'll beg you nice from my knees,
And when the world treats you way too fairly
Well, it's a shame I'm a dream.


A/N: I had this stuffed in the catacombs of my computer for some time now, but Handwritten and Kiome-Yasha gave me the push I needed to finally finish it - I personally thank you both!

There actually is musical inspiration for this: All I Wanted by Paramore!

Thank you for reading this story which took agonizingly long to write XD Reviews would be wonderful =)

Oh, and follow me on Twitter: himynameisjulz if you want to get the updates and uploads (and random bits of my life you may or may not find interesting) first!