kh_drabble | (no subject)

Damnit,

feverish_love, you jacked me for first submission! D:

Challenge: [o86] In Someone Else's Arms
Title: Sketch
Word count: 281
Characters: Marluxia & Namine
Spoilers: For CoM, sort of.

Notes: I keep getting hit with ideas every time a new challenge comes up. Now I just write them instead of putting it off. This is both a literal application and not of the challenge itself. I rarely, if ever, write these two, but for some reason it just seemed to fit.

She's gotten used to it by now.

There would be only the silence and the scratch of her crayon on the paper. The light is always the same, here, always white and unwavering. There is no breeze. No movement.

Dead stillness is her constant companion.

She should be able to hear him coming. He is the only thing there, the only presence; how could she not sense him in that bleached, eerie stillness?

But then his hands are there, black-gloved and soft against her cheek.

She really has gotten used to it by now. But she still squeaks and drops her sketchpad every time he does it.

"Naminé," he says, his voice laced with sweet rot. "My dear Naminé. Who is that you're drawing?"

He wraps his arms around her slender waist from behind, and she shivers.

"No one," she whispers.

Marluxia glances down at the sketch and laughs, faint and mocking. She can't see his face, but she can hear the condescending smile in his voice as he says, "How apt. For he really is no one. Like you, like me, like all the others."

Like silk he glides around her, retrieving the sketchbook from the floor, letting one hand trail around her waist. He replaces the sketchbook in her lap and again pulls her into his arms. She does not protest.

Marluxia purrs in her ear, asking her in deathly gentle tones why she would be drawing Roxas.

Naminé ducks her head. She cannot breathe. She does not dare look up.

There is no way she can tell him, not here, surrounded by black leather and the scent of cherry blossoms, that she'd rather be in someone else's arms.