I'm not sure if anyone's still waiting for this chapter anymore, it's been so long... Really sorry about that, if you were waiting. I should never make promises. But anyway, on the off chance that anyone's still interested, here's Part 2!

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters. Song lyrics adapted from Andrew Belle's All Those Pretty Lights.

It takes me a moment to regain the ability to say anything, and I pass that moment staring at my shoes, unable to meet her gaze anymore. "You've seen me?" I ask, scratching an imaginary itch on the back of my neck. I guess I had always liked to think that she had, but I never really thought so.

She nods. I see it out of the tops of my eyes and I glance back up at her. I remember that she asked me a question. In my mind's ear I can hear the cringe-inducing sound of the wood of my guitar's body splitting against the wall.

"My dad smashed it," I hear myself say before I realise I had even intended to say it. I don't think I intended to at all. It just came out.

After a moment her eyes widen. "That's terrible!"

I don't want her to go and start feeling sorry for me. I shrug. I feel like I should give some explanation of why the boy whom she's apparently seen performing on the street outside her window is suddenly in her room.

"Anyway, that's why I'm here," I say. "If I can't do my music, I have to find some other way to make money, right?" I don't mention that it hadn't been my major source of income anyway and that I just lost my major source of income as well, or that the reason I wanted a supplement to my regular income in the first place was so that I could buy her a symphony ticket and that sometimes I daydreamed that she would even want me to take her to that symphony myself, in which case I would need two tickets. Yeah, I figured she didn't need to know all that.

"I guess," she says. I get the feeling that I've told her a bit more about my life than she cared to know anyway. I'm here to do a job, not to dump my life story on her while I get lost in her stormy grey-blue eyes. I need to stay on track.

"So, do you need anything, uh..." I almost say her name but stop myself. What if I'm wrong about who she is, or worse, what if I'm right? I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to know her name as an Aide.

She saves me, though, filling in where I left off. "Naminé."

Naminé.

The name ripples through my mind the way a pebble is plopped into a still pond. It's her. It's her. I knew it was her, but now I can't even try to deny it. I'm suddenly filled with so many questions that I don't even know where to begin.

"Naminé," I repeat. Do you remember me, Naminé? Why did you leave school so suddenly, Naminé?

"Do you need anything, Naminé?"

She bites her lip. "Is Riku gone?"

"Oh, no," I tell her quickly. Of course, she'd rather have the guy who knows what he's doing, the guy she's used to. "He's still here, but I'm assigned to this wing of the Center for a little while."

"Oh."

"Is there anything you need?" I try again. "I can try to help you, or if I can't I can find someone who can..." Probably Riku, seeing as she'd rather have him here in the first place.

She doesn't answer, instead looking down at her bedsheets. She heard me, right? A simple, 'No, you can leave' would do. Maybe she's trying to give me a hint.

"If not… then I'll just–"

"I'm your last stop, right?" she asks suddenly.

I blink and nod, wondering what she's getting at. "Your room is in the farthest corner of the wing."

She looks away and speaks in such a soft voice that I almost don't hear it. "Will you keep me company?"

I blink, caught off guard. After a moment she meets my gaze again, and there's a vulnerability in her eyes and her posture that was never there as a child. What happened to the little girl who was too self-assured, too aware of how much she was loved by everyone who knew her, to ever be shy? I smile at the uncertain girl in front of me.

"Of course." I take a seat on the edge of her sofa, expecting her to come over and join me so that we can talk more easily. She doesn't. "Are you gonna just stay way over there or are you gonna join me?" I ask lightly. This was her idea, after all.

Her cheeks color prettily and she won't look at me again. Did I embarrass her? What did I do? "I can't... I need help," she tells me in a small, strained voice.

She needs…? Oh. Oh. I suddenly remember where I am, and what the snazzy little badge on my chest means, and at the same time I become acutely aware that there is a wheelchair at the end of Nami's bed.

A wheelchair.

Because the only people who live here are people who need special care. And of course Naminé is no exception.

It's just... Well, just talking to her, she doesn't seem like a patient. For one thing, she's my age.

I stand up from the sofa quickly, mortified, spewing out fumbled apologies.

She giggles softly and I relax a bit and smile tentatively, realising she's not terribly offended. I guess it would be a bit funny if it weren't me who'd just royally embarrassed myself. I pick her up without really thinking about what I'm doing, vaguely reasoning that it's easier than hassling with the wheelchair. But then her small, delicate body is curled up against my chest and she's stopped laughing and I can feel the heat rising to my face all the way down my neck and I wonder if this was really such a good idea. I set her down on the sofa as quickly as possible, take a seat a respectable distance away, and pretend I wasn't just blushing.

She carefully adjusts her legs so that they're curled next to her and I realise she must not be able to move them at all. Maybe she notices me staring because she looks up at me. "Weren't you wondering why a teenage girl would be living in an assisted living residence?"

I scratch the back of my neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I was. But I wasn't thinking just then... I don't know, when you invited me in it felt like just like hanging out with a friend or someone and I kind of forgot where I was."

Her smile is captivating. I resolve to make it her most common expression. "Thanks, Roxas," she says. Did I say something worth thanking me for? I don't remember now. Suddenly I really like my own name, though.

"If you don't mind my asking, why is a teen girl living in an assisted living residence?"

"Car accident when I was nine. My spinal cord was badly injured and a nerve in my right shoulder snapped, paralysing me from the waist down and in my right arm. After a few failed surgeries in my arm the doctors weren't really sure what to do with me and I had no place else to go, so, here I am." She says it in a matter-of-fact, detached way, as if she were talking about someone else.

When she was nine. So that's what happened back then. Why did our teacher never tell us, acting as if nothing was wrong? Did Kairi know? Doesn't Nami have family she could stay with? She must not, if she lives here. I feel terrible for not knowing all this time, for not bothering to find out.

I ask her how she likes it here, since I can't bring myself to ask any of those questions.

"They're really good to me."

I raise an eyebrow. That's not an answer, and she changes the subject quickly.

"Why would your dad smash your guitar?"

Ah. I guess that's what I get for asking personal questions. I find myself telling her what I don't even want to talk about with my best friend. Maybe it's because I don't know her that well that I find it easier to say.

"He was drunk and in one of his angry moods and said something about my street performing being a foolish waste of time, then he just kind of flung it hard against the wall." Now I realise why she acted like her terrible story didn't affect her. It's easier that way.

"I'm so sorry," she says, sounding sincere.

I shrug. "It's not the worst thing that could've happened." I try not to think about what might've happened if I'd stuck around. But no, no, he wouldn't...he hasn't hit me–I mean, really hit me, more than just a shove–in a long time.

"So... do you go to school?" she asks, changing the subject. I gratefully follow her lead.

"No, I graduated high school last spring. Now I'm just... figuring out where to go from here, I guess."

She nods. "Was high school as drama-filled as it is in the movies?"

"You haven't been to high school?" I realise the potential insensitivity of that question a moment too late, but honestly I want to know the answer so I don't apologize.

She shakes her head, not seeming to mind. "Aeris–she's my caregiver–she offered to enroll me, but..." she shrugs, the movement only reaching her left shoulder. "I don't know, I thought it would be less of a hassle to just take classes online."

"Well, it's no High School Musical, if that's what you mean. There's a lot more work and a lot less singing and dancing."

She sighs theatrically. "I knew it was too good to be true."

I chuckle. "But yeah, I guess there is a lot of drama. Especially among the girls, but the guys get dragged into it a lot. My friends and I usually did our best to stay clear of it. Mostly I'm just glad I'm out of that place."

She looks puzzled and on the verge of concern. "You didn't like it?"

"It wasn't horrible, but no, I guess I couldn't really say that I liked it. People are stupid, a lot of the time."

She hums and nods, but I'm not sure if it's in agreement or just a way to respond.

"The songs you sing…" she starts after a moment. "Do you write some of them yourself?"

I nod, feeling a bit proud to be honest. "Yeah, it's a hobby of mine. Maybe someday it might be even more of a hobby," I say, though I'm not really sure myself how to get past the hobby stage. I haven't made much of an effort so far. "Who knows. I'm actually working on one right now. Or I was, before I lost my guitar. I guess I could keep going on it."

She nods emphatically. "You should."

Heh. I wonder if she would still say that if she knew the song was about her. More likely she'd report me or something.

We keep talking for a while until I notice her looking at the clock. Oh great. It's past the time when I'm still supposed to be here and she's noticed and doesn't want to be rude and I've overstayed my welcome oh great.

I jump up quickly and give some quick apology for not keeping track of the time and say I should go, but before I run out of there like the bumbling idiot I am, I make sure to help her back to her bed. I thank God I remembered that important detail and didn't just abandon her on the couch out of reach of her wheelchair and everything. Wouldn't that have been the crowning moment of the night.

I pick her up for the second time and put her back on her bed before I can get too used to the comfortable weight in my arms, then ruffle her hair a bit because suddenly I don't know what to do with my hands. "Have a good night, Naminé."

"You too," she answers with a soft smile. I turn to leave but before I'm out the door she calls, "And Roxas?"

I stop with my hand on the door and my head turned back towards her. "Hm?"

The fingers of her left hand are plucking at a hair tie on her right wrist and she looks away for a moment before her eyes are back on mine. "...Thanks."

Her timidly grateful expression is such a vast improvement from the resigned girl I saw in the window a few weeks ago that I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "You too."

And I remember we stayed up way past your bedtime

Up on the second floor

Inside your wooden door

Just innocent kids in a victimless crime

Trapped in a metaphor

Hoping for something more

"What are you doing after work?"

Kairi smirks teasingly as she places the newly and impeccably folded stack of button-down shirts back on the table. "Are you asking me out?"

"You should be so lucky," I deadpan, leaning against a jewelry display table. "I need to talk to you."

"Uh-oh." She faces me with folded arms, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips in suspicion. "What about? And don't lean on that, some of those necklaces are worth more than your life."

"Want to get something to eat somewhere?" I ask after glancing at the jewelry behind me and deciding I'm not doing it any harm. "I'll tell you when we get there."

"If you can give me a ride home," she says, tweaking the corner of one of the shirts even though there was nothing wrong with it to begin with. "Axel stole the truck, hopefully he's out getting his girlfriend declawed. Someone needs to."

I stare blankly at her for a few moments. I've met Axel's girlfriend a few times, and while she might not be the most approachable person, she seems alright to me. "Uh... yeah, sure, no problem."

A half hour later we're seated at a round little table in the corner of the nearest burger joint, Kairi sipping on a milkshake and me fiddling with the straw in my Dr. Pepper as we wait for our burgers. "So, what's your excuse for wanting to buy me lunch?" she asks.

I decide to just come right out with it. "Remember Nami?" I respond, watching her closely.

Ah. I've hit on something. Her posture stiffens visibly, but she tries to play it off, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder and taking another long sip of her shake. "From elementary school? Yeah," she says casually.

"Did you ever know why she left?"

She shrugs. "They said she just transferred schools."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "And what do you say?"

"Why are you asking me?" she says evasively. "Why do you care, anyway? That was years ago."

"I'm asking you because you were her best friend. I didn't think you would have just relied on the information the teacher told us," I say, ignoring her second question.

She doesn't say anything, and our burgers arrive before the silence can stretch out too long. Immediately she takes a large bite out of hers, not meeting my eye.

"Anyway, I thought you would be interested to know that I'm working at the Assisted Living Center now," I say pointedly before I take a bite out of my own burger.

She nearly chokes on her too-large bite. I wait patiently as she swallows and looks at me with wide eyes. "Roxas–" she begins defensively.

"You knew," I cut in flatly.

Her expression is guarded. "Yeah, so? Like you said, we were best friends."

"Why didn't you tell the other kids what happened when we were all asking?"

"The administration didn't want anyone to talk about it at school. I guess they didn't want the kids to be sad, or something. I don't know." There's a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"That's just wrong," I say.

She shrugs, but I think she agrees with me.

"So do you visit her?" I press.

She opens her mouth, closes it, and then opens it again with a frown on her face. "I don't really want to talk about Nami."

"Well, I do. You don't visit her, do you?" From the way Naminé had talked, I had suspected she didn't usually get visitors.

Kairi glares at me. "I didn't completely abandon her after the accident, if that's what you're thinking. I visited her in the hospital all the time. My mom and I would go. But... after they moved her..." she trails off.

"To the Old People's Home? Why did they move her there, anyway?"

She sighs in frustration. "I can't believe you're making me talk about this. The doctors offered to take her to a care facility in Hollow Bastion that housed people her own age, but she didn't want to leave her hometown, so they settled her in our assisted living center."

I wonder why it was so important to Naminé that she stay here. As far as I know, she didn't have anything tying her down to this place, except...

Kairi won't meet my eyes again.

"It would have been too far for you to visit her very often in Hollow Bastion," I take a guess.

She nods slowly. "The first few months, I tried to visit her. But it was so hard, Roxas. You didn't see her. She'd lost her entire family to the accident, her mom and little brother, and as if that wasn't enough, her ability to move around too." Kairi wrings her hands in distress, but she still won't look at me. "Every time I would try to talk to her, she seemed to withdraw further into herself. I didn't know what to do, how to reach her."

"So you stopped visiting."

"We were just kids, Roxas," she finally meets my gaze, her eyes pleading for me to understand. "It was all too much for me to take."

"And you don't think it was too much for her to take?" I demand, my voice coming out louder than I intended. "You abandoned her when she probably needed you most!"

"You think I don't feel bad enough about it already without you making it worse?" she counters, raising her voice as well. We're receiving a few admonishing looks now from people seated at tables near us.

"She has no friends, Kai," I say in a quieter, flatter voice. The auburn-haired girl winces.

"She has you, now."

She does. I make up my mind right then that I will not abandon Naminé. "Yes," I agree. "But she should have her best friend." I notice she winces again at the last two words. "You should talk to her."

Immediately she shakes her head. "I can't."

"Why not? You're not a kid anymore. It may be late, but you can still be her friend."

She shakes her head even more vehemently. "You don't understand. I can't. Even if it weren't too late..." Her eyes are imploring me to understand something that she doesn't want to admit out loud.

And I think I do understand now. It never had anything to do with being a kid or not. Even now, trying to be there for someone who's in a situation the auburn-haired girl can't even begin to relate to or fix is too much for a girl like Kairi to handle.

She stands up suddenly, grabbing her handbag, her mostly-uneaten burger and fries still on the table. "Thanks for lunch," she says quickly. "I'll see you later, Roxas."

"I thought you needed a ride?"

"I'll walk. It's not too far," she says brusquely and turns to go. Before she takes a step, though, she seems to hesitate, turning her head back towards my direction. "You talked to her, right? Did she... mention me?" she asks in a small voice.

"No. She didn't."

She nods, slowly. "That's just as well. Good, even. That's good." She sounds like she's trying to convince herself. She adjusts the strap of her handbag on her shoulder.

"Take care of her, Roxas."

I nod even though she's facing away from me. "I will."

That afternoon at work, my second day on the job, seems to go more smoothly than the first. I don't know if I'm getting more patient or if the thought of seeing Naminé at the end of the day helps keep my mood up, but everything is a bit easier to handle. It also helps that I've only run into Riku twice so he hasn't been able to flaunt his superiority with his mere presence as much as yesterday.

"Hello," Naminé greets me with a bright smile when I make it to her room. I can feel my own spreading to mirror hers as I quickly make my way to sweep her up into my arms. She makes a little squeak and I ignore my racing heart as I deposit her on the same spot on her sofa as yesterday.

"Hi," I say once I've sat down too and sat sideways on the sofa, facing her.

"You're getting comfortable. What makes you think you're gonna stay a while, hm?" I think she's trying to smirk at me but she's struggling to keep it from blooming into an all-out grin.

I shrug cheekily. "I can just go, if you–"

She pouts and swats at me with her good hand, but she's too far away to reach me. "Shut up."

I laugh. "Do you need anything?"

She starts to shake her head but then she seems to remember something. "Oh, yeah!" She reaches down and rolls up one of the legs of her sweatpants, revealing a long scratch near her ankle, dried blood smeared up her leg and staining the bottom of her pants a bit. "Could you get me some kind of bandage?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Definitely."

"They're in the–"

"Medicine cabinet, over here, I know," I say, standing and going to the white cabinet on the wall. "Believe it or not, I actually was trained a bit for this."

Her face turns pink. "Of course, sorry."

"Just teasing," I assure her, finding the box of bandages and antibacterial cream and bringing them over to the sofa. "So how did this happen?" I ask, frowning as I choose one of the larger adhesive bandages and apply some cream to it.

She shrugs her left shoulder, her cheeks still tinted. "I don't actually know... Sometimes these things just pop up if I'm not careful. I only noticed because my pant leg got stained a bit. It might have been when I was trying to reach for something that was too far away..."

It's strange to me, seeing the painful-looking scratch and knowing she can't feel it at all. I hand her the bandage and she carefully smooths it onto her pale, thin leg.

"How was your Christmas?" she asks suddenly.

"Uneventful."

"Mm. Mine too."

I wonder if the old people's home does anything special for Christmas. They probably do something, but I doubt it would be anything that Naminé would really get excited about.

Then I'm wondering what Christmas was like for her before the accident. When she had her mother and brother with her. I bet it was special then. I wonder if remembering those times makes Christmas especially hard for her now. I know it would for me.

"Are you okay?"

I'm pulled out of my thoughts to see Nami looking at me in concern again. How ridiculous is that? I'm not the one that needs concern. I nod and change the subject.

The next day when I enter the front doors Riku sees me and jerks his head over to the assignment sheet on the wall.

"Something change?" I ask, walking up to it. He nods. On the chart I see that it says "East Wing" next to my name. Not where Naminé is at all.

"They switch us around every so often," Riku explains. "They haven't done it in a while, guess they thought it was time."

I head to the east wing, telling myself I'm not disappointed. I don't even think I fool Riku.

The next couple of days go by slowly, and I try to tell myself that this is just a job and I can't expect to enjoy every minute of work. I visit Zexion in the mornings at the shop. They've just got in a few new guitars. They're beautiful. Maybe if I keep working a little while longer I'll be able to afford one.

I haven't told Zexion what happened to my guitar. Just thinking about it makes me want to punch something. In the evening after work I feel exhausted and crappy and just want to go to sleep, but it's not coming easily. Ha. Perfect time to add to Zexion's playlist of insomnia-coping songs.

See, the songs I usually listen to when I can't sleep tend to be a bit on the depressing side. Nobody wants to listen to super peppy happy at 3 am. So of course the first song that pops into my head when I can't sleep is Sleep by My Chemical Romance, which even I have to admit is a bit too depressing for my situation, but I add it to the list anyway. Besides, Zexion likes that sort of music.

The tune I've been messing around with for the song I've been working on keeps worming its way into my head, and with it thoughts of Naminé. I don't know how I feel about this whole situation with her. I'm not even sure what the situation is. I mean, obviously I don't feel the same way about her that I did in the fourth grade. But the problem is, I think I might feel even more for her now.

I mean yeah, her situation sucks and I feel horrible knowing that the carefree little girl that I sort-of knew lost her family, was pretty much abandoned by her friends, and can't walk or even move all that well. No one should have to live with all that, but I don't think what I feel is entirely pity. Hanging out with her was genuinely fun. And she's beautiful, and sweet, and I keep remembering the way she felt in my arms, delicate as a bird and her embarrassed blush and yeah okay I'm still completely crushing on her, after like eight years. There it is. I admit it.

I want to do something nice for her. I want to be the reason she smiles, even if only for a little while.

I groan and stuff my face into my pillow, mentally hearing Axel teasing me about my sappiness. Who cares, I reply to my inner Axel, mentally sticking my tongue out at him. I tug my headphones over my ears and turn up my emo boy music up loud.

The next day as I go into work I glance over at the assignment sheet, subconsciously hoping that they've switched the wings again, even though I know it hasn't been nearly long enough for them to do that. And sure enough, there's my name right next to 'East Wing.'

I'm headed that way when someone calls my name. I turn around and raise an eyebrow when I see it's Riku.

"East is mine today. You've got West."

I frown. "But the–"

"That okay with you?" he asks calmly. I swear, everything this kid does is calm. I bet if I dropped a grenade in front of him he'd just glance at it and casually walk away, somehow sweeping every patient on the floor to safety in the process.

Anyway, I'm certainly not going to press the issue when it works out to my advantage, even if I don't know exactly what authority he has. More than I do, anyway.

"Yeah."

He nods and continues in the direction I had been going without a word, hands in his pockets. I watch him go for a moment, wondering if a nurse or someone told him to switch or if this was his own idea. But why would he decide to switch on his own? Does he think I'm not doing a good enough job in the East Wing?

I shrug it off and head back the way I came, my steps a bit lighter.

I rush through most of the rooms on the West Wing, the thought of seeing Naminé again making me more eager than it probably should. Every little request a patient makes suddenly becomes a huge inconvenience, but I try not to let my impatience show.

I'm practically jittery by the time I knock on Naminé's door. Man, what is wrong with me? She calls me in, sitting upright on her bed.

"Long time no see," I greet her. She smiles.

"Where've you been?"

"Miss me?" I ask, more cockily than I feel, betraying myself with a nervous hand through my hair.

She smirks. Dang. Playful is not a bad look on her. "Oh, I've been absolutely desolate." Her smirk grows into an all-out beam that almost knocks me out with its pure wattage.

"Something good happen while I was working in the other wing, or are you just that happy to see me?"

"I have a surprise for you," she tells me, her fingers tapping out a frantic rhythm on the side of her bed. She's almost humming with energy, seemingly fit to explode with the suspense.

Well, she's definitely caught my undivided attention. "Oh?"

She hums affirmatively and jerks her head toward the end of her bed. I hadn't noticed before but there's a large black case down there leaned up against the bed.

A guitar case.

Wait, what?

For a second I lose my head a bit and think she actually bought me a guitar, but then I remind myself that that's absurd and she must have just brought it here for me to play. Or more likely had someone else bring it here. Which is still incredible. And I still find myself almost subconsciously gravitating towards it until I'm kneeling in front of the thing.

I chance a glance up at her and she's so pleased with herself that I second guess myself. Wait… did she actually buy this for me? Like to keep? I have to know for sure before I drive myself crazy with hope.

"You…" My voice comes out embarrassingly hoarse and I try again. "You got me a guitar?"

When she nods I think I might faint. "Riku helped me do a bit of research, and I think this is a really good one."

I don't even know what to say. This is definitely the most ridiculous thing anyone's ever done for me. I wanted to buy her symphony tickets, and she went and bought me a guitar. "I… I don't...I can't accept this."

She laughs. Laughs. "Sure you can."

"You got me a guitar."

"Well, yeah." As if it's the most natural thing in the world. "But there's a catch."

Anything.

"What's that?"

That cute little playful smirk is back. "You can have this guitar, on the condition that you play me the song you've been working on."

Oh. Oh. The song I've been working on. The song that just happens to be about her.

Well, it's a small price to pay for what she's offering. Besides, she doesn't necessarily have to know it's about her, right?

I nod, feeling a smile begin to form. "The song's not quite finished, but it should be soon. If all goes well I'll play it for you tomorrow."

She bobs her head a little and I get the feeling that if she could she'd be bouncing in her seat. "Well, go on, take a look."

With pleasure. Almost reverently I set the case on the end of her bed and ease it open. There was no name on the outside of the case so I couldn't tell what model it was, but now I see that it's one of the very ones I had been admiring the other morning at Perfect Fifth. And that store carries only the very best of the best. It's crazy, but I'm almost choked up. Wait 'til Zexion sees this.

I sweep my hand just above the surface of the blue-and-black-stained body, reluctant to actually touch the polished wood just yet. Instead I run my fingers lightly over the strings, which answer me back in their soft tones. It's a moment before I can say anything at all, fighting past this stupid lump in my throat.

"She's beautiful."

I pull the guitar out onto my lap, fish my green spiral notebook out of my desk, and get to work finishing the song. I find song lyrics come much more easily if you embrace your inner cheesiness and don't worry about sounding lame.

And so I sit back in my seat

I scribble down something that's sweet

About a boy, a girl, an endless stretch of scenery

'Cause it's like falling to your knees at a former stranger's feet

I did it just the other day, you should have seen me

After I'm fairly satisfied with it, I read it over and realize there is slim to no chance that she won't realize that this is about her.

And I'm not sure I can deal with that.

I mean, it's possible, maybe even likely, that she can tell that I like her. I'm fairly sure that you could call what we've been doing flirting. But to sing her a song I wrote about her, a song that I told her I'd been working on before I'd even met her? That would freak anyone out.

So I rework the song a bit. Adjust the parts that are too obviously references to her and make it so it could really be about anyone. I'll keep the original of course, but I'll play my revised version for Naminé.

It might be cowardly, but at this point I don't care.

I take off from Perfect Fifth the next afternoon with a quickened beating in my chest, going home to grab my guitar before I head to work. I hope she likes the song. I hope I don't screw it up.

The front door is unlocked. My dad has New Year's Eve off from work so he's probably home. I'll have to try and slip in and out quietly so he doesn't see the guitar.

Uh-oh. I'm not off to a great start. I didn't expect him to be right there in the living room. But he's hunched down over something at the foot of the stairs, so maybe he won't notice-

I'm halfway to my bedroom when I realize what it is he's hunched over.

Or rather, who.

"Mom?"

My dad looks up instead, catching my gaze over his shoulder. His eyes are frightened. "Roxas, go get a bandage and some ice."

That stops me cold and for the first time I notice a thin line of blood traveling down from my mother's temple. "Wha–"

"Go!"

I hurry to the medicine cabinet, finding an assortment of bandages and grabbing the whole box, then to the freezer to get an ice pack. When I get back to the living room my dad has propped my mom up so she's sitting against the wall and he's muttering something under his breath. I'm not sure if he's talking to my mom or to himself.

"Dad?"

He sees me and grabs the box of bandages from my hand. "She'll be fine, it's only a minor head injury."

"What happened?" I ask quickly. "Is she awake?"

"She's awake, she's just a bit… confused."

"Confused?" I ask, voice rising.

"She'll be fine, she'll be fine…" My dad starts in a low voice as he bandages her wound, and I realize that must be what he was muttering to himself when I walked in. My mom joins in, but I can't make out what she's saying.

"We need to call the hospital," I say firmly. My dad shakes his head quickly.

"No hospital. No doctors."

"She needs a doctor. She must have a concussion, you don't know what kind of damage–"

"No doctors."

I stare at him and realize he never answered my question about what happened. An uneasy, slick feeling slides down into my gut. I try to tell myself that it's ridiculous, impossible, and I don't even smell any alcohol on him, but there's a faint, bitter voice in my head that reminds me that it's happened before.

"Dad," I say, my voice cold and cutting. "What. Happened?"

He looks back up at me reproachfully, and I can tell he knows what's on my mind. "She fell down the stairs."

"She fell," I repeat, unimpressed.

"Roxas, calm down."

"I am calm–"

"No, you're not, you're shaking."

I stare at my offending hands and shove them into my pockets. It does little good since the rest of me is still trembling. I want to call a doctor. I clutch my phone in my pocket, considering pulling it out and calling, but I'm scared. I hate the fact that I'm scared.

"She fell down the stairs," my dad repeats. "I came out of our room, and she was at the bottom of the stairs."

I want to believe him. I do. Maybe he's telling the truth. But then why won't he let her see a doctor? I hate that I even have to wonder.

I'm a bit relieved when my mom's eyes finally focus on something, which happens to be my dad's face since it's right in front of her. My dad asks her if she remembers what happened. She doesn't seem to. Convenient.

He leads her over to the couch and sits down with her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, murmuring soothing words, and being an overall sweetheart. My mom seems to realize I'm there for the first time and I must have some crazy worried expression or something, because she looks me in the eye and says, "Don't look at me like that, you're scaring me. I'm alright."

"Roxas, go on ahead to work, we'll be fine here," my dad tells me.

I glance at the clock. I'm already late. "I don't think–"

"Just go on, I got her, don't worry so much."

I look at my mom. She gazes back, her face schooled back into its usual impassivity. "It's okay, Roxas."

I try to remember how to check for signs of concussion. There's something you're supposed to be able to tell by the person's eyes, but I can't remember what they're supposed to look like. All I can think about is how she doesn't remember how she hit her head.

She needs to see a doctor, but there's no way I can make that phone call from here.

"Alright," I say. "I'll just grab my stuff. Let me know if anything changes."

My dad waves me away dismissively and I head back to my room. I don't plan on actually going to work, but I did make a promise to Naminé that I intend to keep. I grab my revised lyrics out of the guitar case and glance over the changes.

Fairly confident I won't slip up and embarrass myself, I'm about to fold up the lyrics and put them in my pocket when something stuffed in the neck of the guitar case catches my eye. I pull it out, curious. It's black, and soft, and… it's a hat. A knitted cap. I blink at it.

Did Naminé… make this?

I stare at the cap and back at the gorgeous blue and black guitar. Then at the lyrics in my hand.

Naminé made me a hat. Somehow, with only one usable hand. She bought me a guitar. She didn't worry that I might think it was too forward and run off. She wanted to do something nice for me, so she did.

Naminé was brave.

Taking a deep breath, I crumple up the revised lyrics and toss them in the trash.

Tbc.

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Alice