The Heart that Isn't Mine

"Drawing some more, Namine?"

My pencil continues to sketch across the paper. I don't look up. "Yes."

I feel soft locks of hair brush my shoulder as Riku leans down to have a closer look. "Again?" He asks. I nod once.

Riku sighs, but not in an altogether despairing way. I smile just a little. There is a trace of amusement in his voice that I detect only because I've known him for so long. "I can't possibly be that interesting."

"On the contrary, Riku," I say. "You are. I find it fascinating to try to capture the contours of your face on paper."

He steps away and walks around to the other side of the table. Seated across from me, he watches the picture come alive. I make steady, confident lines with my pencil, the finished product becoming clearer in my mind. His bangs fall lightly over his eyes, his shoulders slump just the slightest bit, and his eyes are set in that permanently intense gaze of his. It is Riku, wholly and completely Riku. I lean away from the page to admire my work.

"Hm," He says. "An accurate rendition. I had no idea I look that depressed to everyone else."

I can't help but laugh. "You're not depressed, you're serious. Although your long hair does give off that emo vibe."

"Hm," He says again, sounding both cool and disinterested in that way only Riku can. "Dinner's ready. Are you almost done?"

I close the sketchbook, setting my pencil down beside it. "I think so. Lead the way," I say as I stand up. "So is it safe to assume that you didn't cook dinner?" He grunts noncommittally in response. I follow Riku through the house, watching the silhouette of his back.

It was my misfortune to be born a Nobody. I am incapable of feeling any emotions. That was what they always told me. That I trick others into thinking I have feelings when really I have none. But if that's true, why do I think I really am feeling something inside? Have I managed to trick even myself into believing that this is real? …Or is this just another punishment for my sins?

"Riku?" I say.

He lets out a short, "Hm?" to show that he's listening. The low and quiet quality of his voice and the slight inflection he puts on the end say everything about him. I don't know why I choose to notice this now, but everything about him is so uniquely Riku that I begin to understand why I've become so enraptured with him.

"You were his friend," I say. "And as his friend, you should know that he's forgiven you."

He doesn't stop walking, but I can see the way he tenses up at the mention of days gone by. It reminds him of the darkness he gave into and the darkness he's still fighting now. I don't like to see him this way, suffering for things he shouldn't. "He shouldn't have."

I reach out a hand to touch his arm. "You need to forgive yourself." Riku doesn't say anything. I let go of his arm.

The next day when he comes to watch me draw he asks, "How soon?"

My expression remains carefully neutral. "Sooner than you'd think."

"How soon?" He repeats, and I notice just a hint of something else in his tone.

"All things come to those who wait," I say. "Patience. It's coming together slowly."

Her eyes are a crystal blue. They are soft and beautiful, displaying the kind of warmth and compassion that can only come from the heart. She is strong and delicate, the unsuspecting flower in the storm. I know her. More than I want to. Less than I should. We are more similar than she may ever know. The connection is made, and I feel the ripple it leaves behind. "It won't be much longer now," I murmur.

He stares at the paper, expression unreadable. The image is confined to the paper, but he looks at it as if he sees something more lifelike between the crayon strokes. Maybe he does. With Riku, it's hard to tell. "I see."

"You knew her, too," I say.

He nods slowly. "I did."

"You were closer to him than anybody."

Riku doesn't answer. There is pain and sorrow. Friendship and trust. Betrayal and heartache. I see it all, and wish I didn't. Riku has been forced to endure more, suffer more, and watch more fade away into nothingness than I'd ever wish him to know. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to Riku. The sadness in his eyes is real and true. I think I understand his pain, but then I think that maybe I don't know anything about him at all.

I push back my chair and stand up. I walk past the table and look out the window at the familiar illusion of happiness. I was dealt a cruel fate by an even crueler world. Such is life. My eyes stay locked on the scene before me as I say, "Tell DiZ it'll take another three days."

Riku says nothing but I know he understands. Our time together is drawing to a close. It is the way things should be. It is the way they are supposed to be. I should know better than anyone that there are some things we are not meant to change. What a cruel world this is. To be given a glimpse of something beautiful only to have it snatched away the moment I get too close.

I didn't want to love you. But the heart that isn't mine chose to love you anyway. It's ironic, isn't it? I don't even have a heart.

Riku/Namine is one of those couples that I started shipping before I knew it. I'm really proud of the way this oneshot turned out, and I hope I did them justice. Thanks for reading!