Title:
cupcake
Author:
keelhaul lizzie
Pairings:
KairixOlette
Rating:
G
Genres:
Drama
Summary:
Moving trains and candy canes.
Wordcount:
404
Warnings:
mild yuri
Date:
November 21, 2006
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hey you might need a raincoat.
Kairi takes the train. It's the embodiment of whimsy, of hearts and stars and fairytales; it hurtles her through space, through candy-swirl nebulas and kaleidoscope auroras—she feels like a princess, a real princess, being flown over rainbows and galaxies in her hyperfuturistic carriage, toward her castle of steel and glass and gingerbread.
Maybe she is.
When she arrives in Twilight Town, she forgets to be cold because her breath is gone, stolen away—it's snowing, buildings dusted like little pointed tarts, spires like candy canes.
White like sugar.
Olette meets her at the station. There's snow in her eyelashes and crystals in her hair; she touches Kairi's arm with a gloved hand, woolly and yellow.
"Your mittens are cute," Kairi says a little breathlessly, bare arms pale and blue-veined.
"You forgot your coat," Olette replies. "You goof, you're not even wearing a sweater."
Kairi shivers in response, still wide-eyed in wonder; Olette gives her her own coat.
"I'm used to the cold," she says, and offers Kairi one of her mittens as well.
They take the train. It's a short ride and the windows fog up from body heat—Olette draws little swirls in the condensation, hearts and stars.
Fairytales.
When they arrive at the usual spot, Kairi's right hand is numb and Olette's left hand is numb; they sit on the couch, hard and frozen, and Olette catches a snowflake on her tongue.
"I bet this is pretty different from the beach, huh?" she says.
"Yeah. You know, I bet Selphie would love this, and Wakka and Tidus, a-and," Kairi says, "and Riku and Sora."
Riku and Sora, off on another adventure, gallavanting about in summer heat and—and snow, and it's all so dreamy, so romantic.
"They would," she says, and punches her knees, one yellow-mitten-clad hand, "they would."
They've seen the snow before, she knows, and sniffles and sobs unprettily. Snow isn't for princesses, adventuring neither—her space carriage won't take her where they go, to the ends of the earth.
It takes her here.
"Don't cry," Olette says, and brushes away her tears, one yellow-mitten-clad hand. "Your tears will turn to ice."
They won't, but Olette imagines her pretty sugar-tears could freeze, and maybe they'd turn to candy, to ice cream—white like sugar.