I m p r i n t s

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Olette laughed lightly at her companions little joke, her bracelets jangling together as her hands covered her mouth.

Her companion smiled at her, grasping her hand in his.

She smiled back at him, the train rumbling to a stop.

"Do you have to go home right away?"

Olette shook her head, following him out of the train. She squinted as the sunlight shone down on them. Her companion didn't seem bothered by the light as it shone brightly onto his blonde hair.

"Where are we going?"

He shook his head, winking at her. "That's a secret, you'll see when we get there," In a deft move, he maneuvered behind her, his hands covering her eyes. "Just to be sure," he told her.

Olette moved through Sunset Terrace as her companion moved her through the small town. Olette hummed to herself as she walked, earning a laugh from her companion.

She liked hearing their laugh.

"Say, ------, where are you taking me?"

Her companion stopped them, silence ensuing around the two. Olette fidgeted in the silence, she wanted to reach up for his hands. Her companion grinned, seeing the brunette rocking on the back of her heels.

"Ready?"

Olette nodded.

Her companion dropped their hands.

Olette went silent, looking around with wide eyes.

"So, what do you think, Olette?"

"Olette?"

Olette blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. Her green eyes looked around her; the lush green had been replaced by brown. She frowned at the scenery, this wasn't what she thought. A laugh cut through her thoughts.

"What're you thinking about, Olette? You were pretty spaced out."

"Yeah, are you thinking about some mysterious guy?"

Olette grinned; Hayner and Pence, they were her best friends. She shook her head at their questioning glances.

"I'm just thinking about the past . . . about him."

"About him?" Hayner repeated, confusion colouring his voice.

Olette nodded. "Don't you remember? He always hung out with us . . ."

"But, it's only ever been the three of us . . ." Pence shook his head.

Olette shook her head. "It was so clear though . . . he was with us everyday. He has such bright hair in the sun – it lit up like gold when the sun hit it just right – and those eyes . . . they were so deep . . . like an ocean."

Hayner and Pence shot a glance at each other, before breaking out in a laugh. Olette pouted, arms across her chest, glaring at the two.

"It's not funny."

"Yes it is," Hayner choked out through a laugh. "You like Seifer."

"Ew," Olette wrinkled her nose. "That's stupid."

"Nah, you're stupid," Hayner winked. "You've got the hots for Seifer."

Olette shook her head, looking away.

Pence laughed. "You two fight like an old married couple! But, Olette, you've been spacey – no offense – since we came back from that mansion outside Tram Common."

"Seifer and his crew went with us . . ."

Olette scowled as Hayner grinned cheekily, throwing a wink in her direction.

"Maybe Seifer put voodoo on her." Pence shrugged.

"Nah, that's only for curses."

"Love curse?"

That could work, Seifer would do that too."

Olette scowled. "He wouldn't."

"She's defending him," Hayner shook his head. "That means it's true."

"You're mean."

"Cool . . . but that makes you stupid. Seifer doesn't like girls . . . well except for Fuujin. But, she doesn't really count though."

"She's still a girl."

"Defender."

"Shut up!"

Pence rolled his eyes as Hayner and Olette started up their banter again. "Maybe you two should get together." He rolled his eyes as the two seemed not to hear. "Say Olette, maybe you should look at the mansion," Pence flashed a grin as she looked at him in confusion. "This way, you can get to the bottom of this."

"Take Seifer with you." Hayner said, cheekily.

Olette shook her head, smiling at Pence. "Thank you Pence, I'll do that. I'll see you later."

Without another look at Hayner, Olette waved to Pence, the red curtain covering their hangout flapped shut as she passed through. Pence shook his head as the curtain fell, turning his attention to Hayner.

"You really blew it this time, you know."

Hayner shrugged. "Olette will get over it, she always does.

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Olette pushed her hair out of her eyes as she past by the open gates. She briefly glanced at the gates – they were still sitting ajar, the fern' regenerating to reclaim what was there's. She smiled slightly, a hand coming to her lips. She sighed slightly, closing her eyes as the wind breezed past her; she never knew why, but the wind always soothed her.

It was always there when she needed it . . .

Upon opening her eyes, she looked at the large bay window of the second floor.

The white room, she had called it for lack of a better name.

It looked like a child's room, crayon drawings covering the walls. The drawings made her laugh . . . they made her feel complete. It was like something from a dream; something she couldn't quiet remember.

However, it was there, buried deep within.

Her footsteps faltered at the front door, the intricate designs staring out at her. The designs intimidated her slightly . . . someone of immense wealth must have lived here . . . but no one seemed to know. It was a mystery, an unsolved one at that – maybe that was what intrigued her so.

Taking a deep breath, Olette rested her palm on the door, pushing slightly. She surprised herself again as the door creaked open; it wasn't as heavy as she remembered.

"Nothing's changed . . ."

Olette clasped her hands behind her back, looking around the room. Everything was covered with dust once more, her footsteps leaving imprints on the floor beneath her. Taking in everything that was around her, Olette started up the left staircase, the light from the bay window casting shadows on the upper level.

There's nothing to be scared of, Olette reprimanded herself.

The shadows cast across the second floor made Olette shiver slightly, her footsteps hurrying across the corridor. Reaching the white door – it seemed like a beacon in the looming darkness – Olette pushed it open, slipping quietly inside.

Olette blinked a few times, the brightness nearly blinding her. The crayon pictures still adorned the walls, making her smile. Whoever drew those, they must have grown up to be an artist – they had an amazing talent. She wondered how long these pictures had been here . . . they didn't look faded, but this house had been abandoned for at least twenty years.

The curtains fluttered.

Olette raised her eyebrows.

Olette treaded across the white floor, stopping in front of the sheer curtains. She was always amazed by this room; her footsteps echoed throughout the rest of this mansion, but here . . . nothing.

Everything was always quiet.

Tentatively, Olette stretched her hand out, her bracelets jangling lightly at the movement. She froze momentarily to look at the bracelets before wrapping her slender hand around the curtain. Taking a deep breath, Olette pushed the curtains back.

Sunlight wafted into the room, making the room light up with more spark.

Olette sighed, nothing.

There was nothing there.

No open window.

She frowned slightly, but she saw the curtain flutter. She knew she did.

"Nothing . . . there's nothing here," Olette looked dejectedly out the window. She could see Twilight Town almost perfectly. "What an amazing view," she breathed.

It was picture perfect, whoever built this, they had a good eye. No wonder the rooms' former occupant was a budding artist, just looking out this window was inspiring.

Then, it caught her eyes.

There, fluttering in the breeze outside, a folded paper was trapped between the windows.

Olette stared at the folded paper, a hand reaching out, grasping the edge of the paper.

Her breath came heavy – that wasn't there the other day.

Then, it came to her. The fluttering curtain – had someone just put that there?

She raised an eyebrow, was what everyone said true? Was this place indeed haunted? She shook her head, placing her hand against the cold window pane. Slowly, she pushed the window no more then a quarter inch, the joints creaking at the unwanted movement.

The paper slipped out; the wind whistling through the small opening in the window panes. Looking up at the weather beaten windows, Olette quickly closed the window, the joints creaking once more.

Humming to herself, Olette made her way to the large table that decorated the room, sitting fluidly down in one of the pure white chairs. Unfolding the paper, she ran her hands across it, straightening out the crease.

At first look, the drawing was nothing special, the same as all the other crayon drawings adorning the walls.

Her eyes widened as she looked intently down at the paper.

It was childishly drawn, but she could still determine who the picture was depicting. One looked like her . . . a mop of brown hair that cascaded the juvenile character, a swab of orange and brown making up what the clothes colours were. Looking closely, she could see the face was blank, but if the small heart drawn above the characters head was anything to judge by, she imagined the character with a happy face.

"Is this . . . me?"

The character beside her, had a halo of golden hair, lit up by the large golden ball above their heads – the sun? She noticed the character was male and was clad in black and white clothing. This character was also missing a face, but a heart was above his head as well. She stared at the male character longer then she should have, her eyebrows coming together in confusion.

What was going on here?

Olette pondered the drawing in front of her. Someone had drawn her . . . but that wasn't what surprised her. It was the male beside her in the drawing.

He was in her dreams, the nameless boy with the sunlight coloured hair. Yet, here he was, on the paper with her . . . but, she had never met him before.

"Is anyone here?" Olette called, her voice reverberating around the small room.

Silence.

Olette sighed, leaning back in the chair. She hadn't learned anything from coming here . . . only more questions were raised.

"I don't understand," Olette said aloud, her eyes staring at the childish drawing. "Who are you?"

Olette ran a hand through her hair, thinking things through. This mansion had been abandoned for at least twenty years . . . so, how was there a drawing of her here?"

"I wonder . . ."

Olette turned the drawing over.

She gasped, someone had written something down in purple crayon.

It's not important if we see each other every day, it's how often we think of each other.

Olette blinked as she reread the words scrawled in front of her. She replayed the words in her mind; it was like she could hear his voice. It sounded so familiar; but not familiar at the same time.

It was like a dream, something from a dream she had long forgotten.

Then, she noticed it.

Sitting in the bottom, right hand corner was more purple crayon. She gasped as she read the date – it was two weeks ago.

. . . that's when she started to having the vision of the sunlight haired boy.

Underneath the date, was another scrawl; in blue crayon this time, the penmanship not as elegant.

Olette and

". . . Roxas . . ."

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People walk through many lives leaving their imprints behind . . . however; the most memorable are those out of reach

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