The replica looks up to her, and wordlessly begs for love.

Except Naminé doesn't know love—she can't, never could, feel it. All she knows are pretty dot pointed memories of a once completed heart. She only knows theatrics and fairytales, because even the completed heart didn't comprehend that feeling.

All in all, she's weak, so she coos lullabies and gives onto him all her distorted knowledge of a thing she doesn't know herself.

Two stage-shy pubescent forms take center stage. They smile and play their part inside Naminé and the replica's combined fantasy. Naminé tells them offhand that they'd die for each other, and they take it as the gospel truth.

.

You can make it weaker, a voice within tells her, as she knowingly pulls him and her into a deeper decay of false-love; you can lessen the blow, the pull, the lie. He'll choose common sense over you, he'll choose logic over you, he'll choose the truth he can't grasp, but knows in his heart is true over you.

She glare white lace frames—a costume for this act—and tugs at it harder and harder and harder and lets him fall deeper, deeper and deeper in love for her. She uses his memories against him, changing them into a weapon and twirling them to her will.

Inside she thinks, pulling the still empty, lifeless doll of him around her, that she deserves someone to love her enough to die for her too. She deserves this.

.

He smiles to her for the first time, and it's worth it. The nobodies applaud a job well done and he thanks her mutely for this love—this reason—she gave him, not understanding that she pulled it so tightly and so deeply inside his existence that it's smothering him.

Second act, he doesn't see sense, he doesn't see reason, all he sees is her, and she tells herself it's worth it. It's worth it.

They'd die for each other—this is the gospel truth.

She's selfish. He's ignorant. It's a good enough match, because they're both fakes anyway.

.

He lives out her cartoon caricature of a perfect love for her: die for me, jealousy, I am perfect, I am your world, you want to save me more than you want to (die) survive.

In the final act, she pulls apart his world, one loose lace at a time, and pleads for forgiveness with every tug.

.

.

NOTES:

1] In which I still ship Naminé/Replica Riku.