Series: Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories
Word Count: 592
Summary: She doesn't know what she should feel, but he is quick to remind her of what she can't.
Warnings: hints of adult content, angst. You guys know the drill when it comes to these two.
Notes: My god I am so rusty with this fandom. This was written for the current KH Drabble challenge (290: when love and hate collide), and was also mildly inspired by a quote from The Vampire Diaries: “You hate me, huh? That sounds like the beginning of a love story, Stefan. Not the end of one.”
His whispers against her skin are deceptively sweet (honey laced with poison), and his touches are worse—they set her on fire and then leave her cold and empty (emptier, he reminds her when she tells him as much, because she's already empty). Sometimes he smells of his precious flowers. Sometimes he smells of things less pleasant: decay and bitterness and treachery.
She hasn't yet categorized the scent of his desire. She doesn't know how. She does know that it is this scent that cloys at her most, especially when he holds her against him (holds her down, fingers wrapped around her wrists like vines).
Sometimes he surprises her with gifts: new pencils, crayons, and markers. Flowers of all different shades and hues... spots of color in her otherwise whitewashed prison. Sometimes he is nice to her as well (or at least he appears to be); sometimes he touches her with something akin to tenderness.
She knows none of it means anything—knows that he is not to be trusted or befriended. She is just a means to an end for him; she is his plaything for him to toss aside when he is finished; she is his beam of support for him to break and to rebuild anytime he pleases.
She breaks easier and easier these days, she thinks. She bends to his will, comes when he calls, obeys his command, begs for her 'reward' when he wants her to (she's learned that he likes to hear her beg).
His gaze is full of cruelty and darker things.
Axel's gaze is gentler—something almost kind, maybe even pitying. He visits her sometimes, bringing with him stories of what he used to be and who he is now, and she likes to hear them because she can't remember who she was (if she ever was) and she doesn't like what she has become (doesn't like what she isn't).
He always knows when Axel visits her; he claims that he can smell him on her even though Axel never does anything more than softly pat her shoulder or her hand, and like some jealous lover, he replaces the scent of burning embers with the scent of sickly-sweet blossoms and it's getting to where she doesn't struggle anymore.
She curls close to him in the middle of the night—she listens to the silence, the absence of a beating heart. When he pulls her even closer and places his hand on her chest, over the part where there is no heart to beat, she thinks that he might understand, that she might (if she were capable of it) actually lo--
But he proves her wrong, as always.
The Keyblade Master brings more light and color into her life than her drawings or Marluxia's flowers ever could.
He refuses to let either of them stay, and orders her to meddle with Sora's memories, to tear him apart.
There are tears streaming down her face as she whispers, “I hate you,” and she tells herself that she means it.
He chuckles, running gloved fingers through her hair. “Sounds like the beginning of a love story,” he purrs, lips against her neck, hot as lava and cold as steel. “Or it would, if those existed for us.”
He is always the first to remind her of everything she can't feel. Of everything she can't have.
Heartless, she thinks but doesn't say, because she knows that that would just make her a hypocrite.
(He is always the first to remind her—this is only the beginning, and she sees no end in sight.)