-exhales heavily- Here it is at last. My magnum opus. My masterpiece. Well, y'know, so far.

Heh, this is my Roxith prom-fic for Inspire-Illuminate's contest, which ends...tomorrow, I believe. Talk about cutting it close, ne? Well, it took me this long to get it all done. It's crazy-long, so I chopped it up into two bits. But I like it, to be perfectly honest. I REALLY like it. XD Hey, I've gotta feed my Roxith addiction, ne?

Well, hope you all enjoy it. :)

Disclaimer: I own naught.

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Prom. Dictionary definition: a ball or formal dance, held for a high-school or college class.

Prom. Regular definition: the last dance before college and growing up, to get drunk, lucky or just to have fun with your friends and your favorite girl/boy.

Prom. Roxas definition: a chance to reinvent the term 'wallflower' and alternately watch your ex make out with your cousin, and your best friend make out with your…sister.

Sick.

Look on the bright side. Roxas chastised himself mildly, absently swirling the bright pink punch in his plastic glass and trying not to stare at his friend Axel exchanging saliva with his older sister, Larxene. Someday you'll look back on this night and think how nice the wallpaper in the corner was. Clean and white with a slight pink pattern…or is that just from the punch Tidus threw at the wall when Selphie ditched him for Leon?

Scowling vaguely at the wall, Roxas admitted silently that there was no way the stain was getting out without bleach (unfortunately for the school maintenance workers). Then he glanced down at the glass of the drink he held in his hand and realized that if the punch had that effect on the wallpaper, it must be doing horrors to his stomach lining.

"Ug." The young blond muttered, quickly dropping the cup into a nearby garbage can and wiping his hands on the pants of his tuxedo. Roxas hadn't particularly wanted to wear a tuxedo, but Axel had insisted that such things were required at prom and he'd be violently shunned if he showed up in anything else. So, amid mumbled complaints and some first-class whining, the sixteen-year-old had allowed himself to be dragged all over the downtown mall until he was the epitome of casually chic clothing. Axel had approved, saying that there was no way he'd be rejected in such a suitably penguin-like ensemble.

And yet, here Roxas was, in a coat, pants, nice shirt and even a TIE and he was almost certain it was impossible for him to be ignored more than he was. Even his equally penguinish friend had ditched him in favor of dancing to the dulcet sounds of Justin Timberlake, arm-in-arm with Miss Larxene, voted Most-Likely-To-Disembowel-Somebody-Before-Graduating. Watching his all-angles, icy-eyed sister boogie shamelessly with his red-headed friend, Roxas couldn't stifle a wince. He'd really hoped Axel would break up with his older sibling before prom, because as embarrassing as it was to have a big sister who was the city's resident feminist hag, it was even worse to have her DATING his best friend.

But then, who am I to interfere with true love? Roxas silently questioned the punch bowl as Mr. Timberlake stopped wailing and the lights went down amid some far less earsplitting melodies. A wry half-smile found it's way across the golden-haired wallflower's face, underscored by the aching feeling somewhere in the left part of his chest. He knew this song, far better than he'd ever wanted to. 'I'll Be', by Edwin McCain. It had been his and his ex-girlfriend's special song, the one they'd danced to, chatted over and yes, even kissed to.

And now it belonged solely to her and her new guy.

The glittering disco ball (seriously, WHY did prom's always have to have a large, hideously tacky disco balls hanging from the ceiling? Was it some sort of Prom Law, laid down by the Prom God's, many centuries ago?) did little to illuminate the dance floor, littered with slowly swaying couples, but Roxas picked out the upswept blonde hair and knee-length crystal-littered tea dress of his ex-girlfriend Namine within seconds. Even though she was arguably the smallest, slightest, most waifish girl in school, she dominated the dance floor and all attention was drawn to her immediately. All others paled before her in Roxas's eyes, like they always had and always would.

Of course, the fact that her dance partner (and new boyfriend, Roxas's cousin Sora) was lighting up the dance floor with his blissfully glowing grin wasn't helping a bit. Ladling himself another cup of the most-likely-radioactive punch, for something to do, Roxas sat down hard in one of the plastic chairs kindly placed here and there for unfortunate social nobodies, and glared at his relative. He'd never really been overly close to Sora, mostly because their personalities were as different as night and day. Sora was spontaneous, sunny and silly (and invited alliterations when people described him). Roxas was calm, quiet, reserved. Total opposites.

But their mother's were sisters who lived in the same neighborhood, frequented the same places and had the same friends. Consequently, Sora and Roxas had grown up together, going to the same schools all their lives and frequently being mistaken for twins. While this horrified Roxas to no end ('Me? Brothers? With THAT?!') Sora just laughed it off. He laughed everything off. It was almost guaranteed that, had his girlfriend of eight and a half months gently suggested that they start seeing other people, Sora would laugh it off.

Suffice to say, Roxas's reaction hadn't been as good. "Well, I'm seeing other people, Namine." The spiky-haired blond informed the radiant-eyed girl as she swept across the floor, oblivious of his existence and that of everyone else, lost in exhilarated infatuation with a different pair of bright blue eyes. "I'm seeing them dance off towards their happy endings and leave me behind."

Sighing heavily and slumping back in his chair, Roxas took a long sip of punch. It was things like this that made him doubt the existence of true love.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you."

Startled, Roxas choked on the mouthful of sugar water, coughing in an extremely undignified manner that probably left fluorescent pink stains all over the white tablecloth as well. After several seconds of wheezing for breath, he became aware of a light hand on his shoulder and a glass of blessedly familiar and natural-colored water being handed to him. "Thanks." Roxas managed to croak, doing his best to swallow the proffered beverage and chase away the taste of punch that coated his throat.

"You're welcome." was the slightly sheepish reply, as the speaker slowly sank into a chair next to him, bringing with them a vaguely floral scent. Roxas was regaining his breath, and with it his powers of observation, so, still slowly sipping the water, he turned and examined the person.

He could still remember, in vivid detail, when he'd first seen Namine. Yes, he'd seen her before, for years and years, all throughout kindergarten and grade and middle school, the shy little girl who was always sitting in the corner with the coloring books. But, then, in the first year of high school, he'd glanced up and really seen her, a shy girl who'd blossomed into a gorgeous almost-fifteen-year-old beauty that sent a surge of crackling firework magic right through Roxas. The several months of dancing around their feelings, the confession, the decision to go out, the first kiss – none of it compared to that first JOLT he'd gotten when he met her gloriously blue eyes.

This time, there wasn't any jolt. There wasn't even the slightest trace of crackle. Nothing. The sight of the brunette young woman, sitting next to Roxas with her hair in a simple braid and her green eyes smooth, serene and a tad concerned, didn't send electricity coursing through his veins or prompt him to compare said eyes to semiprecious stones. Her pale pink dress wasn't especially remarkable (aside from being ankle-length and comfortably loose, though the style was short hems and form-fitting silhouettes) and there was nothing especially memorable in the way her diamond earrings glittered in the disco ball light or her lashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked. Her lips, eyes, hands and waist were very nice, but not divine. There was nothing in her gaze, manner or voice that prompted Roxas to prose, wild declarations of affection or a renouncement of all others save her.

But there was still something there.

"I suppose I shouldn't have startled you like that." the young woman said, a little chuckle joining her sweet smile. All right, that was something, her smile was very unguarded and warm, especially when compared to Namine's shyly flirtatious, or Larxene's cold, 'I'm-gonna-kill-you' ones. But still, no buzzing of wild attraction between them as Roxas shrugged and finished the water, then let the young brunette take the empty cup. He had the vague thought that he should be offering HER drinks, then disposing of the glasses, but it passed quickly. "I've just been eyeing that punch all evening, rather fearfully, and I wanted to warn you against it." the green-eyed girl said with another little laugh.

"It's nothing. I mean, thanks." The blond said quickly, offering a half-smile and trying not to appear too obvious as he examined her. It was a fairly small town, and he'd known everyone in his high school since they were in diapers, so a new person was always a bit of a novelty to him. In addition, she wasn't a girl – she was a young woman, several years older than him, old enough to be in college. So, then, what was she doing at a high school prom?

As if reading his mind, the young woman tilted her head to one side, extending her hand towards him. "My name's Aerith." She said sweetly, the smile never leaving her face. Roxas took her hand and shook it gently, simply because it was surprisingly soft and fragile in his grip, delicate almost. But still, even though her skin was like silk against his fingertips, which were roughened by years of fruitless guitar practice, there were no fireworks.

"Roxas." He replied simply, feeling no compulsion to pepper his phrases with the flowery words Axel was so fond of using, the type that had always made Namine giggle and hug his arm tighter as they walked through the downtown park. Feeling that same old pain, Roxas quickly released Aerith's hand and glanced off, at the wall, at the bowl of punch, at his feet, anywhere but the dance floor, where the couples were still dancing to 'today's hits and yesterdays favorites.' "So, who are you here with?" he asked, clearing his throat and trying to appear nonchalant.

The lightness in Aerith's eyes dimmed slightly and she joined him in examining the pink stains. "What makes you think I'm here with anyone?" she asked in a low voice. A brief glance at her showed that her long fingers were twisted in her lap, clutching tightly to a fold of her rose-colored dress. Odd.

With a vague frown, Roxas looked again at her face, finding a trace of pain that was very familiar hiding in her eyes. He didn't address it, of course, but he saw it. "Well, you don't look like a high school student." He said matter-of-factly, his frankness making Aerith glance up in a vague surprise. And, even though being so blunt with any other girl would've made Roxas blush and fumble and generally feel like a fool, he just looked straight at her and, with a shrug, said, "Obviously you're here with someone. Just wondering who."

Aerith blinked at him a couple more times, then, slowly, her lips curled into a smile, not as sunshiny, but still warm. "You're very perceptive." She informed him, nodding once to underscore this statement. And, rather than getting embarrassed and seeing it as flirting – which it would've been from any other girl – Roxas just shrugged again, then offered a crooked grin. Aerith laughed, for real this time, releasing the death grip on her dress. "Well, you're right, I'm not in high school." She said, with only a trace of sheepishness. "I came here because…an old friend of mine asked me to."

Roxas scooted his chair a little closer to her, resting his elbows on his knees, hands folded loosely. He barely even noticed what song was playing, or that Namine and Sora were now in the opposite corner of the gymnasium, gazing at each other over glasses of the unnatural punch. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment, except…her. And, no, there still weren't any butterflies or anything. He didn't really need them, either.

"I actually graduated last year, from a really small high school about two hundred miles away." Aerith was saying, reaching over to the refreshment table and grabbing a handful of the specially ordered confetti to play with. "I'm taking a year off before starting college up north."

"What're you going to do?" Roxas asked, because that was what you asked when people talked about their college plans. He should know, most of his friends had had their lives planned out since they were twelve. Quite frankly, Roxas was used to – and sick of – people rambling about every single class they were going to take to achieve their unparalleled academic goal, whatever that may be. However, he wasn't expecting the response Aerith gave him.

"I'll get my masters in Botany and find some well-paying job that will sustain me for the rest of my life." The young woman said in a voice that was so plainly flat, apathetic and disinterested, that it gave Roxas a genuine shock. Almost before the words left her mouth, Aerith winced, bringing her hand to her forehead and saying quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did."

"Uh...huh…" Roxas said slowly, completely bewildered. Coming from an average, run-of-the-mill family, he'd always been taught that growing up to have a well-paying, sustaining job was the best thing anyone could strive for. But she seemed so…careless about it. Like it didn't really matter.

With a little laugh completely void of all amusement, Aerith sat up straighter and self-consciously straightened her skirt. "I'm sorry." She repeated in a soft voice. "I've just been…saying that for so long…after a while it gets a little tiring." Roxas noted briefly that, even though she was vaguely upset, she never stopped smiling. Only, now, it was a very weary, wry, almost self-mocking half-smile as she shrugged and said with mock lightness, "But then, I guess even the best actors get tired of saying lines they've rehearsed a million times."

"So…that was a line?" Roxas pressed, trying to understand. She'd seemed so simple and plain when he'd first seen her. But now…now she seemed a profound mystery. And Roxas loved mysteries.

Aerith winced slightly, hunching her shoulders sheepishly and dropping the confetti onto her lap, where it stood out in glittering splendor against her skirt. Roxas found himself watching the light from that stupid disco ball dancing off the sparkly little pieces of paper, rather than her face as she said softly, "I keep saying things wrong tonight. It's just…ever since I was little, I've been saying that. I'll be a botanist, I'll get a good education, I'll marry my childhood sweetheart. It's all been planned. I don't even wear my HAIR differently."

Suddenly, abruptly, Aerith reached out and set her hand on Roxas's knee, the confetti spilling over her knees, onto the floor, catching his blue eyes with her pale green ones, an achingly sad smile on her face. "Do you ever get tired of doing everything everyone expects of you?" she asked him softly, almost pleadingly. "Roxas. Do you ever wish…that you could do something…impulsive?"

This wasn't electricity. There were no fireworks, no violent, almost painful feelings. There was no surge of emotions that made Roxas want to dance around and shout to the heavens and act crazy. There was no magical, mysterious, mesmerizing slew of new thoughts and hopes and wishes and dreams, centered around the girl whose hand was on his knee. There was no….JOLT.

But there was something, something in Aerith's touch, in her eyes, her face, her voice, that made Roxas suddenly reach out, grab the hand resting lightly on his leg and hold it as tightly as he could, looking straight into her eyes. "Yes." He said softly, nodding slowly, trying to let her know that he understood. "Yes, I have."

With that, Roxas stood, Aerith's hand in his, and began making his swift and purposeful way to the door. He did it so suddenly, without any sort of warning, weaving around the multi-colored people standing here and there, with such single-minded determination, his grip so firm and strong on the young woman's, that they were halfway down the hall before Aerith was able to react.

"What are you doing?" the brunette managed finally, stumbling along after the teenage boy past rows of purple lockers and darkened classrooms, already getting lost in the maze that was his high school. When Roxas didn't answer, pausing at the intersection of two halls, Aerith took her chance and dug the heels of her strappy pink shoes into the linoleum, refusing to go another step, giving the boy her best patiently expectant look.

Roxas didn't seem to notice this well-tailored look, deciding on one hall with an approving nod and starting to go down it. However, Aerith could be absolutely immovable when she wanted to be, so he was jerked to an abrupt halt. "What is it?" he asked in a vexed voice, turning and giving the young woman an irritated pout.

Aerith felt herself softening at the pout, which was a little too adorably sulky to have its desired affect. Then, to avoid dwelling on the fact that she'd just applied the word 'adorable' to this strange new blond boy, the green-eyed girl cleared her throat and, arching both eyebrows, said mildly, "I'd just like to know what you're doing, if you don't mind."

"To be honest, I don't quite know yet." Roxas said, noticing in that moment that they were still holding hands, and she appeared to have no intention of letting go just yet. And, weirdly, neither did he. "But then, isn't that the nature of impulses?" Aerith's eyebrows quirked just a fraction of an inch higher and he had to smile at the vague hope, mixed with disbelief, that he saw in her eyes. Nodding slowly, Roxas squeezed her hand tighter. "I'm being impulsive, Aerith." He informed her softly.

For a moment a real, true, happily hopeful smile crept across Aerith's face, making her seem half her age, a child again, and her hand tightened on his. "Oh…" she said softly, wanting more than anything to throw her cares to the wind, to surrender to her sudden desires and run right out the door with him. Then her shoulders drooped, as if the weight of the world had fallen back onto them, and she tried to draw her hand away from Roxas's. "But, I shouldn't leave…"

"Why not?" the blond boy asked, not letting her go, grabbing her other hand, hardly knowing where this new side of him was coming from. He could see the surprise he was feeling mirrored in her jade-colored eyes, but it gave him strength, rather than shocking him into releasing her. "What's keeping you here?"

Her eyes flitted back towards the gym, where there was music playing, people laughing, neon punch flowing – and the one person who had brought her back forgetting she even existed. Aerith gnawed on her lower lip, trying to remember (or, perhaps, fight against) every rule about good manners and politeness that had been hammered into her since childhood. She bit down so hard she almost drew blood. Then she swallowed hard and slowly turned her back on what was expected of her. An almost wry half-smile curled the corner of her mouth as she stopped trying to pull away, squeezing his hands as tightly as she could.

"Nothing." She said softly, half-hoping he wouldn't see the tears stinging her eyes, half-praying he could make them go away. Roxas half-smiled back, and together they ran out of the school.

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I won't be mean and make you wait for the next bit, I promise. :D -trots off to upload it-

Read/review/go kidnap someone from a prom.