I'm kind of really annoyed with myself. Two whole months before I have the decency to upload. I just feel like a total loser. For that I apologize. I really didn't mean to make you all wait.

Originally this was going to be two different chapters, but I decided to put it together. It's longer, and after my failed attempts at updating, you guys really deserve a nice long-ish ending chapter. THIS IS IT KIDS! It's mostly in Kairi's POV, but occasionally there is some Roxas POV sprinkled around.

Apologies for any typos and/or grammatical errors. (half asleep).

Nyeahhhhh just ignore me for holding you. Go on and read!

.

.

Roxas

.

"Well, I mean you did that to her first." Naminé mutters reasonably, from her seat on the computer chair. I glower at her angrily. This venting session is not serving to fix my mood. In fact I feel even more livid than before. I want to do something – some serious fucking damage.

"Yeah, but that was before…" I trial off when I see the blonde raise a questioning brow in my direction. I growl and turn away. It's been two days since that morning. The morning where everything turned to even shittier shit. My chest tightens angrily and painfully as I remember it.

I was desperate. Careless, even, to try to bring her back to me. I should've known. I should've known she would've pulled that stupid stunt with me. I was the idiot who fell for it.

Anger burns through me, as I shoot up in my seat.

"Oh, I know that look," Naminé deadpans, casting me a dry look. "Try not to do anything stupid, will you?"

I curl my hands into tight fists.

"She just left me, what the fuck am I supposed to do!" I bellow, frustrated. The blonde looks annoyed all of a sudden at my outburst.

"Look, I get it, Big-Shot Manwhore Roxas was dumped after sex, whatever, but you need to get your head out of your ass and stop reacting badly to everything." She snaps, startling me out of my anger. "I know you're hurt, but you're really not seeing this with an open mind."

"Naminé, she left me-"

"She did," she cuts in fiercely. I don't even notice when she rises from her seat heatedly. "Now that you're the dumpee, rather than the dumper, you have a widened perspective. What you're feeling right now is probably exactly how Kairi felt when you left her."

My eyes narrow defensively at the blonde, who's staring back at me patiently. It irritates me how much the she knows everything. Just once I wish she could be wrong.

"I feel like shit." I admit sourly, turning away from the girl when I feel that stupidly familiar burning in my eyes. It's worse actually. I feel worse than shit. "I hate her." I add in, falling back into my seat.

I hear Naminé sigh wearily.

"You don't hate her."

"I hate her so much."

.

.

.

Kairi

.

My eyes lift tiredly up towards my bathroom mirror. A horrible mess stares straight back at me. Mascara running down my face, hair a complete mess. The sight makes me sick. It's a sight that is so different that how I used to be. It's alien, disgusting. A ridiculous, silly girl who was so desperately in love with a boy.

For a moment I revel in the self-loathing that courses through my veins. I feel the smeared lipstick burn across my face – burn with hatred, setting my bruised lips on fire. My eyes continue to rake in the disheveled appearance, falling shortly on the distinctive bruise marks on my neck. I can feel my chest twist and ache at the sight.

I turn away from my reflection, breathing softly through my nose. The scent that is unmistakably Roxas filters throughout my nasal canals. It's so strong and everywhere, I almost suffocate. A wave of unadulterated anger runs throughout my body. Fury grips me, holds me, chokes me, and drowns me.

The mess of a stranger glares back at me, unrecognizable eyes filled with hatred. It disturbs me. It makes me want to cower beneath my covers.

"Get away from me!" I shout, only to see myself screaming. The frightened look reflects back at me now, beneath all of the make-up, grime, and bites. It unnerves me the way I can see myself, how I can still see myself even if it is brief.

My eyes recoil away from the sight.

"Let me go," I demand to my stranger reflection. "Let me go!"

My fisted hand collides with the mirror. It all happens fairly quickly. The sound of the glass breaking, the brief high of getting to damage something, and then the pain. It ripples throughout my knuckle, and shoots up my arm in the next second, as does the warm crimson blood pooling down my fingers.

Dizzily, and distracted from the burning, prickling sensation on my hand, I glance up at the mirror. There's hardly a dent. Only a small chunk of glass breaks, conveniently covering my face. It's a shattered image of the stranger I was so desperate to run away from.

I slowly stare back at my bloodied hand, feeling a surge of nausea hit me at the sight of it oozing. What did I just do?

"Kairi, I heard screaming – what did you just do to your hand?" My mother's voice sounds far away, when I turn to look at her disoriented. Her face is white and panicked as she takes in my appearance, and then looks down at my hand.

.

.

The hospital visit is just a sort of blur. My surroundings are hazy, and I don't exactly remember what was going on. I don't remember the waiting room, or the doctor's face, or even feeling anything when they stitched up my hand.

One thought reverberates throughout my head, as I sit on the patient bed, or rather one person.

I stare at my bandaged hand, turning it back at forth intensely. The last time I was here, Roxas was with me, staring at me with worried, sobbing eyes. We were seven and it was the first time I had ever seen the blond seem so scared.

I shift in my seat, hearing the paper beneath me crinkle at the disruption. I look away from my hand.

I was terrified as well. I begged my parents to let him come into the room with me. I forced him to hold my hand.

Instead it's my mother who's tightly clasping my hand. I want to tell her to let go, but I don't. She looks beyond worried, and relieved all rolled into one. Her eyes regard me, when I stare at her reassuringly. I don't know how long I sat there in silence, before noticing her. I squeeze her hand, and she lets go, finally.

"What were you thinking?" She questions finally, breaking the eerily, comfortable hospital silence. I drag my eyes away from her hurt, pleading expression. She wants answers, and I don't know exactly how to give them. What would she say? Would she turn away from me?

My eyes catch sight of my reflection against the paper towel canister near the sink. I take in the tangled, dirty mess of my cherry hair. I don't hide the grimace when I see the dark make up stained against my cheeks, or the smeared lipstick. Would she judge me?

The question speeds through my head like a bullet train. It becomes so overwhelming that for a second it leaves me dizzy. Once I return to my steady state, a horrifyingly frustrated thought hits me. Why didn't she do anything? Why didn't either of my parents have some sort of fucking intervention? Couldn't they see? Couldn't they feel how much their daughter was suffering?

The questions try to form on my drying mouth, but I pause, when I glance back at my mother. Her eyes are beseeching and confused. A sliver of disappointment fills my chest as the realization falls upon me. She's completely and blissfully unaware her daughter's skydive to rock bottom. This is entirely my doing. I've caused this rift of ignorance between myself and my parents.

"Kairi," she presses, near incredulity. I move my gaze back towards my reflection. I've never looked worse before in my life. I've never felt worse in my entire life. My frown is still present, but I can feel a flicker of something that resembles hope bubbling in the pit of my stomach. But at least I feel like myself.

Perhaps cracking a bathroom mirror with your knuckle is life changing.

"I wasn't," I mutter, answering her earlier question. My eyes flash back to her. She stares back at me, frustrated. Her hand returns to its place, covering my own.

"Kairi what's going on? What happened?" The questions go on, and on, but at that moment I'm only half paying attention. Half paying attention to the concerned look in her eye, half paying attention to the pressure of her hand, half paying attention to the aching sting on my right hand.

The tiny, fleeting hope that formed in the pit of my stomach explodes exponentially. An inspirational understanding occupies the other half of my focus. The larger part. It spreads throughout my body, warming my cold insides, feeling like a nice hot drink of coffee after battling a cold night. My skin heats as if I were sitting out in the sun all day, rather than the pristine hospital room.

It's nice, comforting.

I revel in the feeling. It's good feeling, one that I have not felt in a long time.

It's going to be okay now.

.

.

I sigh, wrapping my scarf around my neck snuggly. My mother watches me worriedly.

"We don't have to do this now." She says, before I close the car door. I sigh, bringing my injured hand to my chest.

"I'm just returning a jacket." I respond. "I'll only be a few minutes."

I shift the bulky letterman safely underneath my arm, and shut the car door behind me. My other hand digs itself deeply inside my coat pocket. My breath visibly comes out in deep puffs.

The air stings at my cheeks, as I walk slowly towards the porch. The garage door is open enough for me to get a glimpse of the black Ducati parked carefully. A boulder of guilt plunges deep in my stomach at the sight. He's here.

I chew my lip anxiously when I reach the doorstep – a few inches away from the heavy wooden door. I inhale quickly, heavily, before pulling my hand out of my pocket and reaching for the doorbell.

I press the button a few more times before the door is thrown open, and a slight wave of relief washes through me, when Sora Strife answers the door. I don't know exactly what I'd do if it were his brother who answered.

I shift my weight on my feet nervously. The brunet glares at me from the doorway. Okay, maybe both brothers aren't exactly the friendliest company ever. I cough awkwardly, playing with the ends of my coat. That's when I remember the letterman underneath my arm. I straighten up instantly, holding out the jacket.

"I, uh, accidently took this with me," I start, but Sora's disgusted expression makes me falter. "You – you don't want it?"

"I don't want that now." He spits. His eyes harden furiously in my direction. As if it's dirty. As if I contaminated his sweater. Seriously, grow the fuck up. I don't have cooties. "It's probably filled with STD's."

The insult stings, like a belly flop to water. Oh, well, right.

A wave of guilt knocks me over. I should be offended. I should want to beat him over the head for indirectly calling me some kind of slut, but I don't. He's not angry, not really. I can see by the way his eyes are watering. He's hurt, and that fact alone washes away any pent up anger. I've hurt him. I've personally screwed him over. For the first time in months, I don't even relish in that thought.

In fact, I feel queasy, dizzy. Briefly, I uneasily think that I may have to throw up. What a way to begin an apology. The award for Best "I'm Sorry" Speech goes to Kairi freaking Lockhart.

I lower the jacket, miserably.

"I'm sorry." I finally say sincerely. I see a flash of something akin to sympathy flicker in his teary eyes. His expression freezes over again, and he takes a defensive step back through the doorway. The brunet's hand trembles on the doorknob. I almost anticipate him slamming the door in my face, but he doesn't.

The guilt is heavy in my sick stomach. I almost wish he would slam the door. I don't think I can even handle his nice guy banana republic model ways. Not now.

Sora's eyes lower, away from my pleading expression.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry for dragging you into this whole mess and – and for mistreating you. It was a horrible thing to do."

"It was never real was it?" He mutters sullenly. He tilts his head up a fraction of an inch to stare at me darkly. "None of it. You were just using me. You didn't like me."

I kick my foot against the porch uncomfortably. His eyes are like lasers, reading too much into my actions. I vaguely wonder if he's been hanging around Naminé.

"I'm really sorry Sora." I apologize again.

I hear him release a shallow breath.

"Get off my porch, and don't ever come back."

.

.

.

Roxas

.

I don't hate her. I think it's just physically, mentally, and emotionally (even fucking spiritually) impossible to hate Kairi Lockhart. I can get close though. I can get so close to hating her that it scares the shit out of me sometimes. And despite these feelings, that absolute, incomparable love always bounces back full force. It's nauseating sometimes too.

I guess that's just how it is with her. She's my soulmate.

I snort, as I empty the cake mix into the bowl. When did i turn into such a fucking cliché? Soulmate. My laughter subsides a little, until I'm smiling into the cake mix.

Kairi Lockhart is my fucking soulmate.

The doorbell rings loudly, breaking my musing. I stare down at the mix, my hands filled with the batter (because I couldn't help having a few tastes).

"Sora, do you mind?" I call out, towards the living room. The same spot the brunet has moped and depressingly vacated for about a week straight. I don't blame him though.

I hear my brother's footsteps, and sigh returning back to my work.

Baking is kind of lame, even I'll admit that. But the cupcakes work wonders with temperamental girls. And maybe, just maybe this time a little something extra like this can be the change in my relationship with Kairi.

I fix the trays, not bothering to make the cakes nice and neat, before stuffing it in the oven. I fiddle with the timer. Usually, this would be around the time that Naminé instructs me as to how long the baking is. I contemplate calling the blonde, but decide against it. They're going to come out awesome either way.

I hear the angry stomping before I turn to see Sora march into the kitchen. There's a fierce glower gracing his usually bubbly tan face. He brushes passed me, yanking the fridge door open. I stare at him in disbelief, as he snatches the milk carton, chugging it down in one gulp.

He wipes his mouth with the back of hand harshly. His overall obvious anger would be a lot more convincing if there wasn't a prominent milk mustache on his face. I hold back a laugh.

"That bitch," he snarls darkly, taking another swig. Now my curiosity kicks in. I lean against the counter, regarding him with a skeptical expression.

"Who was it?" I ask, pretending I didn't hear his curse.

"No one." He snaps, slamming the milk carton on the counter.

My eyebrows pull together as I asses him. He's obviously flustered, and in an unnecessary rage. It's kind of pathetic and annoying. The only person that makes him seem pathetic or annoying, or a combination of the two is –

"Was that Kairi at the door?" I probe seriously. From the way his eyes glaze over, and his lip curls defiantly, I know the answer immediately. Sora turns away from me, throwing the carton back in the fridge, and pushing by me. I notice the way he doesn't hesitate to half shove me out of the way. "It was Kairi wasn't it?" I call after him, as he leaves the kitchen.

I rush out the door in an instant, forgetting the fact that it's fucking cold outside. I hurry down the steps of my porch, hoping to catch the girl before she drives off – except no one is in the driveway.

She's gone.

My phone vibrates furiously in my pocket. I have half the nerve to ignore it, but at the last minute I dig into my pocket and answer the call.

"Roxas," Naminé's voice flutters into my ear.

"Naminé," I greet, still staring down the street dejectedly.

"Where are you?" She questions. I can't help but notice that she sounds a little uneven – frantic almost.

"Home, where else would I be?"

"I heard Kairi was in the hospital."

My stomach drops.

"No, no that's – she was just here." I correct. "Look, I'm going to go over to her house later. I'll sort all of this out."

I hear Naminé sigh in relief on the other line.

"You don't hate her." She says, before hanging up.

.

.

Approximately two hours later, I'm standing on the Lockharts' porch, holding a tray of apology cupcakes. I take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. It doesn't take long before Mrs. Lockhart is staring up at me, and then down at the tray. She knows what's up.

I expect a smile, but I'm met with a frown.

"Hi-"

"Kairi's asleep right now." She states.

"Is she feeling okay?"

She looks a little annoyed, by this time. "She was at the hospital all morning."

Cold guilt crawls down my back immediately.

"What happened?" I demand, nearly dropping the tray.

"Injury to her hand, she's okay now." She said vaguely. "Look, Roxas it's sweet of you to come and visit and bring this, but Kairi needs rest."

I work a smile on my face, handing her the tray. "I completely understand." My ass. "Please tell her I was here."

With that, I turn and make like I'm making my way down the street. I dart behind a bush when she's not looking. Once the satisfying sound of the door closing rings through my ears, I head around the house, towards her bedroom window.

I struggle with the tree, trying to find a good grip on the branch, and then gingerly reach the window. This is the tricky part. I hoist myself against the small ledge, plant my palms against the glass, and push upwards. It gets caught a few times, but I crept in without a sound.

The warmth and familiar scent hits me square in the face, once I straighten up in Kairi's room. My eyes take in everything, noticing that it looks almost exactly the same as it did the last time I was in it. Except maybe…

My jaw drops open when I see the state of her bathroom. Dried blood stained tissues occupy the trashcan. The mirror is nearly shattered – well one area is.

Did this idiot girl seriously try to break the mirror?

My eyes swivel to the direction of the bed, glazing over the girl briefly, before zeroing in on her carefully wrapped up hand. My stomach flops at the sight, the way she holds it up to her chest.

"You're such an idiot." I breathe out, and flinch at the volume of my voice. She does not stir, thankfully. Her eyes remain dutifully closed, deep in sleep (I hope).

I study her. The soft breathing of her heavy sleeping. The way her other hand is thrown precariously across the bed, a blatant disregard to rolling over on it. Her cherry bangs flopped over her face. I feel myself smile adoringly, reaching out to push the fringe out of the way. Her nose scrunches in defiance, and she turns away from my touch. The smile falters slightly.

"I'm going to make it up to you," I whisper. "I promise you, I will."

And I mean it. I want it. I want it too much. Staring at this girl, broken literally and figuratively, I know that this is all I've ever really wanted. She's my growing decay. The reason for my utter ruin. She's my fucking soulmate.

"What – what are you doing here?" The sound of her voice jolts me to existence. When did she wake up? She sits up abruptly, leaning against her hand, and cringing, bringing it back to her chest.

"Don't put weight on it." I mutter anxiously, reaching for the hand, but she scoots away from me. Her eyes are wildly cautious, defensive.

"What are you doing here?" She demands.

"I came to see you." I state obviously. She looks unconvinced, or uncertain. I'm not sure which of the two, but either one isn't exactly encouraging. My self esteem has already spiraled down ever since she moved away from me.

"But I left you." She whispers confused.

"I know. I've done a lot of thinking," I say with a sad smile, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

"I left you." She emphasizes.

"And – wait hold up," I stop midsentence, to rise from my seat and hurriedly grab toilet paper from the bathroom. Careful not to touch any of the broken glass, I wet the paper, and sit back down in my seat. "Come here." I gesture towards her, with the soaked toilet paper. "It's just… you kind of look like the joker with your messed up make up."

Kairi blinks at me, perplexed. I sigh, before taking the initiative to reach out and clean her face, but she snatches the towel away from me.

I stare at her intensely, as she wipes and dabs around her lips, frustrated.

"I see you tried to break the mirror." I try to say conversationally. She doesn't respond. "So, um, what did they do to your hand?"

She pauses in her ministrations.

"A few stitches. I damaged a few of the nerves though."

"It must hurt," I offer.

She nods her head. Something is off about her. Not in the full 360 slut freakout like before, it's more of some kind of internal thing. It makes me uneasy.

She sighs softly, continuing her work.

"I really don't think you should be here, Roxas." Kairi murmurs quietly. I don't respond at first. I'm still a little confused as to why she isn't relieved or fucking grateful that I even showed up to see her after she dumped me.

"I've decided that I forgive you," I finally say, as she starts on her cheeks. She stops mid-wipe to glare at me with bulging eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

Kairi shakes her head, dropping the toilet paper in her lap. After what feels like hours, she glances at me with some kind of unreadable expression. It's unreadable, but it leaves me stunned.

"Just, go home." She mumbles, looking away from me.

My throat tightens painfully.

"What?"

"Just go home." She repeats, this time more loudly.

What the hell is happening? This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm supposed to swoop in and – and fucking sweep her off her feet. We're supposed to get over this fighting. We're supposed to be together now.

My head spins in circles, my eyes are burning, and this ridiculous, and haphazard amount of outrage electrifies my body. It's humming with indignation. It flares against my mind, reminding me of that time I beat the crap out of that Riku guy.

I'm furious, I don't even know what I'm yelling at her, but she looks scared, and she's crying. I don't even know what she's saying. I don't even care. I want to rip her fucking throat out. I want her to – to just –

What is she even doing?

"Don't look down. Just keep your eyes on her."

Keep my eyes on her? How the fuck am I supposed to keep my eyes on her when she's not even looking at me?

It's so close, so fucking close to hate, that I think I just may hate her.

.

.

.

.

.

Kairi

.

The day I return to school, with a bandaged hand, and in my normal attire, I can literally feel a spotlight on me. It's irritating and embarrassing. What's even more unnerving is the way my old friends seem to look at me with revulsion.

Have I permanently marked myself as a horrible person? Have I already been branded as a the school's slut?

Chagrined, I realize that I probably am called that behind my back.

Roxas most certainly thinks so. With a frown, I remember the last conversation I had with him, which turned to become more of an argument. When he had come in to my room that day, to say I was shocked would have been an understatement. I was thrown off – completely. I didn't expect him to try to seek me out the day after I walked out on him. It wasn't Roxas.

It ended horribly. He called me every name in the entire book, and I just sat there demanding him to leave. It wasn't until my parents heard the commotion upstairs, and forcibly had to remove the blond from my room.

Maybe it was stupid of me to reject his forgiveness.

I sigh, toying with my uneaten lunch. The incessant whispering of nearby tables encroaches my thoughts.

"She makes money off of making pornos."

"Yeah, Sora totally told me she caught some rare S.T.D. So gross right?"

"I heard she was pregnant"

I force myself to glare down at the table. I force myself to ignore everything.

Soon the eyes and voices of the cafeteria becomes too much. As quietly as I can, I try to subtly walk through the doors. It isn't subtle, not in the slightest. I can feel every single person's eyes on me, as I stumble out the doorway.

My hand is aching by the time I'm in the hallway. I had forgotten about it when I barreled my way out. I groan softly, gingerly cradling my hand against my chest, as I trip over my feet, dizzied by the pain.

I nearly walk around the corner, when the janitor's closet ahead bursts open. Out stumbles a giggling, flushed brunette. It takes me moment before I recognize her as Olette from my government class. I watch as she rights herself, combing her fingers quickly through her hair. She casts a quick glance around, overlooking me as I hurriedly dive for the nearest locker. She straightens out her skirt.

What a slut.

And what were you a few days ago?

Good point.

"All clear." She giggles in a hushed whisper. Definitely a slut. I roll my eyes, moving my hand away from my chest, to press myself against the locker. My eyes peer into the closet, and out steps Roxas Strife.

His hair is carelessly untidy, shirt is wrinkled, and his fingers fumble to refasten his belt. There's a light flush on his face, but other than that he reeks of calm, cool, and collected.

"We still on for after school?" He mutters. It's more of statement.

My face prickles with an unrelenting heat, when Olette grins up at him dirtily. It unnerves me. My stomach does uncomfortable somersaults, when I see him return the smile. I lean back against the locker, forgetting my hand and squishing it harshly. I let out a pained growl, and then Roxas's eyes are mine in an instant.

He looks horrified for a moment, and then uncertain, and then pleasantly surprised. For the first time in what has felt like forever, popsicle Kairi comes back full force. I'm rooted to the spot, frozen in the stare-down with him. His cold blue eyes sweep in my appearance. Olette still hasn't noticed me, which I find a little confusing since it's obvious Roxas is staring.

He then suddenly reaches for her, tugging her silly form against his. His large, marble hands roam around her body wantonly. His fingers reach under her skirt, pulling her roughly against him. And the stupid girl squeals pathetically, but the sound is practically drowned out by his unwavering stare. His blue eyes narrow dangerously, as he leans down bringing his face to hers, all the while holding my gaze.

The icy chill intensifies grappling my heart, frosting it as if I were stuffed in the freezer. And yet, I can't tear my eyes away from him. I can't look away from the way he's almost theatrically throwing himself at the brunette. I can't avert my eyes from the threatening flash in his angry eyes.

I know what he's doing. He's punishing me. He's chastising me for my behavior from the morning after – the morning I left him alone. He's showing me that I can never get away with something like that. I can never evenly plot my revenge on him. I can never get away with breaking Roxas Strife's heart.

His lips are at her ear, sucking lecherously. Drawing me in, breaking any of the will power I've almost recovered.

I don't even know what feeling is stronger, the amount of agony that billows in my chest, or the bubbling anger that's waiting to lash out from my veins.

It's never going to end – this cat and mouse chase. It's a neverending cycle that neither of us are willing to break. Why aren't we willing to break it? Is it sick masochism? Is it that painful egotistical pride at getting back at the other? Or is it that pathetic hope we're desperately trying to cling to? That hope that despite all of this shit, we're still going to work out. That at the end of the day everything is going to be peaches and roses.

.

.

When I get home, Naminé is waiting for me on my porch steps. I step out of the car, and walk towards the blonde, who has risen from her seat on the steps.

"How's your hand?" She asks before I can utter out any type of greeting. I stare down at the bandaged appendage with a grimace.

"It's okay."

The blonde nods her head, accepting my answer. Her blue eyes fall on me with that familiar studying gaze. A ridiculous sense of relief rushes through me when her eyes scrutinize me. It almost feels like greeting a close, long lost relative.

I know she's reading me now. Like she did the last time I saw her. Like how she used to do. Her lips twitch into a frown as she fully takes in my appearance. I can see her observing my clothes. Her right eyebrow cocks upwards, looking almost skeptical.

"You're going to talk to him, aren't you?" the question isn't necessary. She knows as well as I do what I'm thinking. I nod my head, sitting on the steps.

She sighs softly through her nose, taking a seat beside me.

"I've been to see him," Naminé hesitates. "He looks a lot like you – not well."

I glance over towards the stoic blonde, and almost gasp at the conflicted expression on her face. It looks like she's struggling to say something.

"I've seen him too." I interrupt her. Her eyes widen, surprised no less. She blinks confusedly, before tilting her head to the side, prompting me to continue. I pause, trying to find the words that I don't even know how to search for. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She probes.

"He was with a girl."I say finally, staring blankly at the floor. I feel her steady gaze on me. I can feel the question, before she even has to say it. "And…I just don't know."

"Why do you say that?"

I sigh, taking in a deep breath afterwards, preparing myself to let everything out.

"I don't even know what I'm feeling at this point. Every time I see him, or even think of Roxas I just don't know where all of my feelings went. Did they just disappear? I'm confused and hurt, and it all just doesn't make any sense. Had I just imagined all of these feelings?"

Naminé gazes at me sadly. Her lips are turned into a frown, and her eyes are disheartened. I don't know what it is in her expression that makes it seems like she knows exactly what's going. Like she knows exactly what I'm feeling, and exactly where it's going to lead. She turns away from me, staring down at her shoes.

"I think," she stops, to breathe in a quivering breath. "Feelings never go away. I mean you can't just make them disappear into thin air, or make them fade away. Feelings between two people are always existent, indifference, love, hate, there will always be something between people. The real question is what they change into."

I listen to her, mulling the idea in my head. It's quiet for a long stretch of time. Immediately a chill falls over me, as the next question burns into my head. A question that makes me sick to even think about.

"Is it ever possible to fall out of love with the love of your life?" I ask vulnerably.

Naminé refuses to look at me, which I notice anxiously. She sighs deeply.

"I don't know what to say to that." She admits wearily. Silence falls over us again, and then Naminé bolts upward suddenly. "I should talk to Roxas – we should talk to him."

"Maybe you should to let us fix our own problems." I state. She snorts, and I abruptly turn to face her, shocked by the sound. She shoots me a flat look.

"I did. Look where that led to," she says sarcastically. I smile, letting out a small chuckle, and then Naminé joins me until we're in bouts of laughter. I'm the first to sober.

"You're right," I admit, wiping my eyes. I look at her. She returns the stare thoughtfully, silently telling me to go on. "You leaving really fucked us up. Things just got -"

"Fucked up?" She supplies helpfully.

Another round of laughter escapes my lips, as I nod my head. "Yes." I agree.

Naminé nods as well, turning her attention towards the car parked in the driveway. Her thoughtful expression remains on her face. Emotionless. A complete poker face. It's quiet for a few moments before Naminé sighs.

"I really hate that car." She murmurs out of nowhere. A flash of something like annoyance and disgust flickers through her eyes as she glares at the innocent BMW. I don't understand it. I think back to the night when I first saw it. She was staring at it with the same contempt and dislike as she was now. I then remembered her saying something about her dad, which was a complete mystery to me.

Did she not like her father? Why was he in Radiant Gardens? Were her parents separated?

With chagrin, I realize I never really bothered to ask these questions – well to ask questions in general.

"I'm sorry about leaving," she interrupts my thoughts. "It was a mistake, and I promise I won't do anything that irrational again."

Who the hell was Naminé, and why did she waste her time with two fuck ups like Roxas and I?

.

.

It seems like some sort of sick déjà vu that I end up at the same house as I did as that night. The night of my epic blunder. The night I stupidly confessed my feelings to a half drunk Roxas. It seems like some cruel twist of fate that I find myself sitting on the same couch, with the same type of drink as last time. It's ironic that I pretend to drink it, while watching my some random girl grinding against my best friend. The only difference really is that I'm not invisible anymore. I'm not sure if it's a good thing. Especially if the kind of attention I'm getting is from horny, drunk boys with no consideration to personal space.

I sigh, rising from my seat and head for the door. I tried.

When I say tried, I tried talking to him. That's why I'm even at this stupid party.

My initial plan was to find him here, whisk him away from the numerous girls he was bound to be surrounded by, and have him listen to what I have to say. When I got here, however, I felt the fear drown me, and I opted to staring at him from the same lumpy old couch. Chicken shit, remember?

The cold chill bites at my cheeks when I open the front door, drowning out the techno music. My breath comes out in visible puffs, as I make my way towards the steps. Carefully, I place my hand inside my pocket, while taking a small sip of the bottle in my other hand.

Perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps I was going about this the wrong way. Perhaps –

"Kairi."

I recognize the voice before I even have to turn around and look at him. His expression is a mixture of anger, and hurt.

"Roxas." I return the greeting. His eyes narrow.

"Why are you here?" He spits at me. I flinch. I struggle to find a suitable answer, but before I can come up with one, he takes two strides, closing the gap between us, and snatching the bottle from my hand. "This is the last thing you should be doing."

"I was hoping for a conversation."

He glares at me scathingly.

"You want to talk to me now? You've got to be kidding me."

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened-"

"You kicked me out after I told you I loved you." He deadpans.

I look away from him guiltily.

"I know, I know, that's why I want – I'm asking for your cooperation now." I plead.

His eyes harden coldly. He regards me with a detached aloof expression. I don't buy it at all. I know, inside, he's probably running around like a headless chicken, because I totally am.

He raises an eyebrow, silently telling me to hurry up. I chew my lip nervously. He takes an impatient swig of the bottle.

"I'm sorry that all of this happened Roxas," I begin. "I realize that we both acted selfishly. And I just want all of this to be over already. I hate this – I hate what happened to us. I don't even know how it got out of hand, this back and forth tennis match. Was it even worth it?"

Roxas's narrowed eyes widen slightly, and I can see the cogs working inside his head.

"Wait, what-"

"Maybe, I think, we'd just be better off apart. Maybe we just need to go our separate ways."

Once that leaves my mouth, I swear the whole atmosphere drops. No, it plummets terribly.

Blue eyes look at me accusingly, filled with that gut wrenching agony. I caused it. My throat tightens angrily, as I try to fight the warm stinging tears forming and blurring over my sight.

Roxas's image is hazy. I sniffle soundly, reaching up to wipe my eyes with the cuff of my sweater.

My lips tremble weakly as I try to smile. It's strained and I know he recognizes it because his expression shifts suddenly to desperation. His blue eyes glow in the moonlight. They're dark, but the glare makes them seem like a black lake reflecting the moon. It's hypnotizing.

I reach forward, brushing my fingertips tenderly along the side of his face. It's then that I feel the moisture beneath his shining eyes. I feel my throat dry.

"You want me to do something that I just – I just can't do." He says in a low voice. My hand rests against his face, fingers brushing his wet eye. I sigh, moving my other hand to hold his trembling face entirely.

His cheeks are warm against my cold hands. His frown deepens making his glowing face turn dark in an instant. His hands shove mine away harshly.

"Why can't we just move on from this already? Let's just forget about it. It never happened!"

"It did happen." I stress. "You can't just brush everything between us beneath a carpet."

"Fine! Let's just start over." He says imploringly. The rough hands that pushed me away moments before, are grasping around the wooden floorboards, looking for my own. "Kairi, I can fix this."

I sigh sadly, turning in my seat to face the walkway. The setting is so agonizingly familiar, it's ridiculous. It almost seems like some kind of dream. It seems like some kind of alternate universe. It seems like a bitch slap to the face.

"I can't. I just can't."

I hear him make a growl.

"God, just stop being so selfish!" He snaps, rising from his seat all of sudden. The wooden steps creak under his weight as he walks down until his feet are firmly planted on the cement of the walkway. He whips around. His glowing blue eyes burn furiously, burning holes into my face with accusation. "Is this just another fuck you Roxas, because it's really-"

"No. It's not. I'm not here to one up you. I'm doing this for the both of us."

"What the – what does that even mean? I love you, you love me, so why are you making things so fucking complicated?"

"Because it is complicated, Roxas!" My voice rises, along with my body. The steps creak as I make to follow the blond, but he takes a wary step back. His gaze is cautious and chilling, as he regards me. It reminds me of a frightened wild animal. I let out another sigh, and stop, rubbing my forehead impatiently.

"You're complicating it yourself Kairi." Roxas cries out beseechingly, closing the gap between us in less than a second. His cold hands find the warmth of my neck, cupping it softly, bringing me closer to him. I feel the warmth radiating off him, just mere inches away. My chest instantly aches with longing, and something else not quite as strong but still present – spite.

It really is a deteriorating image, a deteriorating feeling, the feeling of being in his arms. It's simultaneously hot and cold. It's beautiful and repulsive. It's desired and abhorred at the same time. My stomach lurches into a large unmanageable knot. I feel my throat clog like a sewer line.

"Just be with me. I want you – I want everything." He breathes hotly into my ear. "Don't you want me too?"

I'm at a complete and perpetual loss. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel. I'm lost at a crossroad between loving him, hating him, and being indifferent. And no matter what direction I try to take, that horrible sense of wrongness drips through my veins like a poisoned IV.

I swallow thickly, forcing the lump down my throat, and pushing myself away from his body. I feel his eyes branding me with betrayal. My own eyes water and I quickly stare down at my boots.

He scoffs loudly. "So what, now you're going back to fucking my brother?"

I flinch, shrinking away from his venomous tone. I feel the back of my boots hit the bottom of the stairs, and I almost topple backwards, but I hold my balance.

"I didn't mean to hurt him." I whisper dejectedly. I hear him sigh. "I didn't mean to hurt you either."

"Fine," he relents gruffly. I wipe at my eyes hastily, and glance back at him. After a few torturously icy moments, Roxas turns away. He moves away from my line of sight, back towards the steps, and leans against the railing. My eyes trail him. He crosses his arms over his chest, gaze strictly down at the ground. "Fine Kairi. You don't like Sora. Then what is it? Why are you still running away from me?"

I hesitate.

"Tell me!" Roxas loses his cool again, uncrossing his arms and advancing towards me. I step away, but his hands grip my arms roughly, keeping me in place. His enraged face is close to mine – demanding, provoking me into a fight.

My eyes flicker to the closed front door. I vaguely hear the beat of the music and the loud cheering/laughing/partying going on inside the house. Anyone could've peeked through the window, anybody could've walked out the front door.

"Look at me! Why are you-"

"You broke my heart!" I stammer out, stomping on his foot harshly. He released my arms and howled in pain. "You broke my heart! Okay? I gave it to you, with all the trust I could ever hand out, and you just ripped it to shreds at the first opportunity you had, like everything that's ever handed to you-"

"You broke my heart first." Roxas snarls. "Don't go and try to play the innocent fucking Mary-sue. If you didn't go and fuck everything up with your ridiculous get up and attitude, none of this would've happened. If you would've just-"

"-let you hurt me again?"

"You did this to yourself. I would have left you alone. I would've." Roxas says nastily. I shake my head, my mind jumbling around with each turn. I feel the teary sting building in my eyes. The prickle in my nasal canal, symptoms of a pre-sob. My hand trembles, as I reach up to bury my face in my hand, as Roxas continues on. "And if you wouldn't try to always be one step ahead of me, then maybe it might've worked out a long time ago."

I let out a derisive, teary laugh.

"Is this all what we are? Just a bunch of mind games, and pointing blaming, accusing fingers?" I question incredulously, another humorless chuckle peeling from my lips, sounding downright maniacal. "I don't want to do this anymore." I exclaim, gesturing between us. "I don't want to get even with you. This isn't about revenge, or being petty, or patching up my hurt ego. I'm swallowing my pride, and telling you how I really feel. I'm done, Roxas. You were right, I'm too tired to continue this. And I'm not running away from you, not anymore. I'm here, and I'm telling you that I don't want to be in a relationship with you. These feelings I have for you… they're just not the same."

"What are you saying?" He interrogates sharply.

"I just don't feel it anymore." I say. "It's not the same. I can't be with you the way you want me to."

Roxas's eyes narrow painfully. His lips twist into an anguished frown, before opening. Something that sounds similar to a weak groan rolls out of his mouth, and then he mashes his lips together.

"What you're saying doesn't even – it doesn't – Kairi it'll never work. I don't want to be your fucking friend. We can never be friends. There's just too much here, between us. There's too much feeling, too much attraction, too much of everything. We can't be friends."

"I didn't say I wanted to be your friend either." I whisper, before he can get anything in word wise.

"Then what – what are you really saying, Kairi?" He asks, sounding irrevocably broken at this moment. He swallows thickly – it's a strange clogged gulp that sounds more like a choke. I feel my chest tighten, and my stomach plummet into a pool of misery. An unending pool of tar.

I look away, staring down at the splintered steps.

"Kairi, what the fuck are you saying?" He demands, clutching my shoulder, and forcing me to turn and look at him.

"I do love you, but it – it just isn't enough." I mumble. "I don't want another repeat of what happened. I've been dealing with all of this the wrong way. I shouldn't have been questioning your character; I should've been questioning myself. If I can't handle being hurt by you, then what am I? What kind of person am I to be so – so heavily influenced by someone like you?"

"No, no! You can't just say that, Kairi. We're in too fucking deep for you to say that. You told me you love me." He counters, puzzled and angrier at his puzzlement.

"I do," I agree solemnly. "That's why I'm saying goodbye. If something were to happen between us I – I don't want to be in that place I was in. And I don't trust myself to be with you, at least not now."

"I'm not going to hurt you; I promised I wouldn't hurt you ever again." He speaks softly.

I glare down at my boots again briefly, and then the glare flickers back to the blond. His expression is a combination of bewilderment, thoughtfulness, and an aching realization.

"You don't trust me." Roxas finally says. It's a statement. I'm silent. I don't even have to deny or agree to it because he already knows the answer.

How can I trust you, I think, how can you trust me?

"So much has happened that it just puts me in a position where I can't see us together. I just can't. I can't force myself to feel the same things I felt for you before. And I don't want to resent you for it." I say gently.

He's quiet. It's a smoldering type of quiet. I anticipate another outburst. I expect more accusations, threats, pleading. I welcome it because nothing is really going to change my decision in the matter. I've made it, and nothing is going to deter it, not even the love of my life.

I hear his footsteps, heavy against the cement, as he walks back to me. A sigh leaves his mouth. It sounds defeated.

"You're giving up, after everything, everything that's happened." He mutters sadly, and I'm immediately hurt by his statement. I glance upward to his expression. It's rueful, and I can see his eyes glow with a newfound resentment. My stomach rolls pitifully. My eyes sting again with a fresh oncoming of tears. My lungs constrict, and I choke back a gasp when I try to sigh.

"Roxas," I cry out, affronted, insulted, really. "I'm not giving up."

Before he has a chance to step away from me, my hands clutch at the material of his shirt tightly. I hold on, mostly for my sanity. He's one step away from knocking me off the peak again. I'm almost at my brink. He's the one pushing me, shoving me, throwing me off, and I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to fight. I don't want to continue to stab my knife through his back while struggling to pry his off of mine.

My hands loosen around his shirt, moving slowly towards his neck, and then finally holding his face. He stares down at me vulnerably. His eyes are completely open, scared, terrified. It reminds me of the boy who held my hand in the hospital years ago. The same boy who was sweet, and brought me cupcakes when it was the time of month. The very same boy who, I now realize, shyly gave me the tiger won at the carnival.

Maybe I had loved him my whole life. And maybe I was going about this falling in love thing the wrong way. Maybe I was just falling in love with the parts I liked about him. And when I had a taste of a different side – the many different sides of the Calvin Kline model, it overwhelmed me.

His eyes are soft, bare and open, completely letting me see everything. I feel his hands gingerly, reciprocating my movements. His fingertips brush against my cheeks reverently.

Maybe it was because I couldn't accept the change he underwent. Maybe it was because he loved me despite all of my flaws, and after one mistake I could never look at him the same. Or perhaps it was because I could only see this love from a present view, from what I was feeling at that instant, when Roxas was looking at it in a long term view.

"I just need time." I finally say. Time to recover , to find balance, to find myself. Time to love him unconditionally, unadulterated, and unspoiled as I did before.

He squints at me, and averts his eyes that have been watering considerably during my internal ramble. Red rims are formed underneath his vibrant blue eyes when they return to my face.

I reach forward, standing on my toes, and bring his face down to rest my forehead against his. He lets out a shaky breath that beats against my mouth, feeling more like an icy keepsake.

"I don't – I don't know if I can wait for you again." He whispers thickly. I can practically hear his throat clogging, matching my swelling throat equally.

I choke against the obstruction in my throat. My breathing is heavy and uneven. I tremble against his face, as I try to silently hold back the sob that's just pleading to burst out.

"I – I understand."

I settle back down on the flat of my feet. My face brushes against the side of his. He sniffles loudly in my ear, and it makes me quiver. His hands have moved, one planted on the back of my head, fingers running softly through my hair, and the other on my waist, arm encircled around me.

I can feel him shaking against me, I can feel his shuddering breath against my ear.

I try to hold on as much as I can to this moment. This one single moment that will be the teetering end of whatever it was we had. It's heartbreaking, it's horrible and redeeming at the same time. I feel a sense of desperation as I cling to him, as I try to memorize the round, solid feel of his lean shoulders, as I try to retain the way his face feels against mine, the stubble free smoothness of his angular jaw. It's a terrifying desperation that grips, and plucks at my heartstrings. Yet it's one of the most liberating feelings ever. A sense of relief washes over me. This is it. This is the end of feeling trapped. The end of desiring something out of reach, of letting that desire overrule me, suffocate and smother me.

After this moment everything will change. Everything between us is going to be different.

In the back of my mind I laugh bitterly.

Things have been changing ever since that night at the stupid party, on this very same porch.

His arms around me loosen, as he pulls back slightly to look down at me.

Swollen blue eyes stare down me beseechingly. His fingers reach up to trace my lips.

"Can I?"

I sniffle, wipe my eyes and nod. His expression is melancholic as he leans down and presses his lips to mine. It's bittersweet. Achingly bittersweet that I don't know what to do for a moment. I'm frozen when he begins to part his lips, and move around mine lovingly.

The taste of is familiar, yet it's a new feel. The smoothness of his lips seems different. The way he moves them is almost foreign.

He nibbles my lip, awakening my senses immediately. The cold ice spell that fell over my mouth melts, and I begin to mirror the pace of his lips. My fingers stroke the sides of his smooth, wet face, brushing against his dark blond hair. My heart is aching in that torn way, that agonizingly unpleasant way that leaves me wholeheartedly pleasant. His hands are now warm this time, when they gingerly touch my shoulders

Reassuring fingers trace around my collarbone, before wrapping around my neck in a chokehold.

Roxas's soft lips pry mine open in one gentle move, a sweet, kind move that seems more like a polite request. His tongue is hot and wet and slippery as he drags it slowly around my teeth. It provokes me tenderly, guiding me in a soft battle of dominance. His fingers tighten around my neck, before trailing back down to my shoulders. A respectful position, a chivalrous position.

His lips close around my bottom one, leaving my mouth entirely. I whimper in protest, desperate to cling to this moment. Roxas sighs against my mouth heatedly. The warmth of his breath makes my numb lips buzz with anticipation.

In the back of my mind, I ponder the idea of this happening that one night at the party that started this whole mess. If this had happened. If this had been my first kiss. It sure felt like a first kiss. Perhaps this is the beginning, and what happened back then was just an event that was misplaced in our timeline. Maybe we're in some kind of alternate universe, and all of our past, present, and future memories were in a jumbled, mixed ordered mess.

Roxas kisses me again calling my attention back. It's all lips. Lips parting, lips sliding against each other, lips sucking. And then he moves away, opting to rest his forehead against mine.

I open my eyes to find his closed.

"I never want to say goodbye to you." He whispers vulnerably. I feel his fingers dig into my shoulders. I nuzzle my nose against his comfortingly.

"Not goodbye, just see you later."

It's going to be okay. I try to silently give that message to him when he opens his eyes to sadly look at me.

We part. His eyes are completely dry by now. They just look a little red. He studies me for a good minute, eyes looking up and down. Then he turns back to the stairs. Roxas bends down to pick up his abandoned beer bottle. He climbs the rest of the steps, in the direction of the front door. I take that as a cue to make my way home, but he stops mid-step and calls out to me. I turn around slowly, looking up at the sight of him.

His eyes glow, looking black in the moonlight, leaving a sharp contrast to his pale skin. His honey blond hair shines, as he runs his other hand through his hair. His lips twitch into a patronizing smile, condescending, however, my mind registers it as playful.

He takes a gulp of his bottle, making a satisfied ahhh sound.

"You're not being all un-Kairi anymore." He smirks. "It looks good on you Cherry."

He winks, and I can't help but smile back. And then he ambles his way back into the house. The sound of that techno shit bombards me briefly, before he shuts the door behind him, leaving me on the porch alone.

I stare at the door, and I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm going to survive and it feels good.

With a sad smile, I turn and make my way towards the Toyota. I shut the door, start the engine and head home.

It's not over, it's never over when Roxas is in the matter. And we are Roxas and Kairi. This isn't the end not in the slightest. Our love may be buried beneath all the crap we've caused. It may be borderline unhealthy. It may even seem impossible, but it exists, despite how small in comparison it seems to everything else. Despite how thin it is, how much it's been thinning out, it'll never go away. It'll shrink but it'll still be there, even if you might need a magnifying glass to see it. It's existent, and that's enough for me.

This is our skinny love, and I'm content.

.

.

The End.

.

.
And that's a wrap! You have no idea how emotionally drained I felt after writing that last scene. Bleh, and it still turned out lame. Anyway, I'm so thankful for all the people taking the time to read this story. I must atone for my late updates. Any ideas how? Lol. Reviews are love.

And, as always, the song this story is based on is "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver.

Thank you, very much! TA-PK signing out.