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~one~
In Twilight Town, some things never change.
The sky is forever trapped in an array of yellows, reds, and oranges. The train tracks continue into the distance, carrying with them the same untold stories of the then and now. The clock tower, prominent, heaven-bound, and ever vigilant, brings awe to those who have yet to seen it ever since the day of its completion.
And the one silent boy that sits at the entrance of the bustling train station, without a single care in the world, listens. He listens and watches anything and everything. Naminé wonders why no-one says a word as they go by.
Everyday, as she follows the large monotonous crowd around her, Naminé can’t help but notice those blue eyes transfixed steadily on the horizon.
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~two~
Step, step, step. Left, right, left. One, two, three. She takes the same pathway to and from ever since can remember. Naminé knows that it has been imbued into her being; thus it is a part of her like her quiet tendencies.
She once again finds herself at the brooding boy’s spot. However, something has changed. He’s there with imploring arms reaching out (reaching, reaching, forever reaching) flying over the stone balcony, brushing simultaneously with life and death.
She breathes, only for a second, and for a moment, time ceases to exist.
Then, it’s all just mingled breaths, reflecting blue depths, hands that touch more than the physical and an assurance of that this place and time is their crossroads; theirs alone.
Upon the sunlit ground is a photograph.
The train horn bellows in the distance.
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~three~
She finds him, once again and always, splayed out on the jagged steps of the train station. However, this time, she comes bearing a small gift.
She places herself by his seemingly inert body watching those sullen orbs turn to gaze at her. Naminé gives him the shyest and smallest of smiles before offering him her gift.
She watches in delight as the tiniest ray of light enters his eyes at the sight of the ice cream bar.
He takes it, their fingers brushing, sits up and mutters the smallest thanks.
Together, they taste the sweetness and salt of the sea.
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~four~
She places brush to paper, bringing forth little details that only she notices.
The way his eye gleams when in deep though, how his eyes close half-way when there’s a light breeze, (and when he believes she isn’t watching) his fingertips trace the faces on the picture in his pocket.
It’s all these little tendencies and more that she has committed to memory, like a wise saying. And she brings them to life once more through her art so she can once again look upon them and remember.
As she completes the sixth sketch of the day, she proudly shows it to him, holding it up with acrylic stained fingers.
Naminé cannot help but laugh as he notices with awe the way she has depicted him. But to her it isn’t a surprise at all.
For it was how she truly saw him through her own eyes.
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~five~
Accidents happen.
Confusion, misplaced steps, and nimble fingers are all it takes. In a tangled heap, they fall to the ground, erratic breathing, warmth against warmth, never wanting to get up again.
But as two pairs of lips come together, trading unspoken passions, Naminé wonders if it truly was an accident or if it’s simply how things were meant to be.
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~six~
Trepidation, hesitation.
She was such a lonely girl with a lovely soul.
But there is no turning back now.
“It looks like my summer vacation is over…”
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~seven~
She comes, running, to where it all first began. Her steps become faster and lighter, faster and lighter, faster and lighter until…
It’s empty. The space, his space, is barren. All that remains on the dusty bricks is a photograph of four familiar smiling faces…
Including his.
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Green (golden, sangria) eyes scan the photo trying to remember, trying so hard to drudge out a memory, but fail. With an exaggerated gentleness, Olette places the keepsake back into trembling hands.
“I’m sorry Naminé, but we’ve never seen this person before; never.”
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She watches and listens for anything and everything. The tears streaming down her face don’t cease as she sits on her bed, her eyes transfixed upon the horizon.
As one lonesome girl succumbs to her dreams, in the midst of them realizes the truth.
Some things never change.
(The bells peal twelve times and the image of a blue-eyed blonde boy is soon forgotten over time.)
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