Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Fragments ❯ Fragments ( Chapter 1 )

fragments.

Once upon a time, upon one malachite coloured hill, beneath a tangerine sun, sat a girl with hopes and dreams and strength like any other heroine should have. There she sat upon a summer day, holding up a tiny azure orb that reflected diamond cutout patterns from the sun onto her face. As cliché and as hopelessly obvious as it sounded, like any other girl, she was in love. But, it was absolutely absurd because he was non-existent, really.

Sometimes there was a face, and sometimes there was voice, but never a name. He was as vague as what she knew of politics and key blade wars. She was a simple girl, taking delight in lucid things like sunsets and sea salt ice cream— as cliché as it sounded. What was she to know about the mysterious happenings like boys without identities and magical keys and girls with other halves and talking ducks?

She couldn't count the days when she began to feel that somehow her memories had been altered, and when a champagne haired enchantress began appearing in her dreams and sub-conscience. That witch in her mind and the little cornflower sphere that her fingers mingled with were the only things that connected her to that boy with honey hair, deep blue eyes, and no name. It troubled her mind for days when it started, but gradually, by habit, she grew used to the questions and the aching her mind and heart presented her with.

She had these little fragments lodged in her mind, but only little fragments, like little bits of video clips that played over and over again in her it drove her into frustration. Only little things though, like watching the sunset on top of old, creaky crates, and cheering him on when he sparred against Hayner, and even little moments when the two grew a little closer.

Sometimes it made her a little infuriated that she was dense enough to forget these things, when if she was in love with him, were so important. She even took it up with Hayner and Pence, who told her it was nothing, even though they had that sense of nostalgia as well. Only, she didn't stay angry because it wasn't at all like her persona, and even with the incessant nagging in the back of her mind, life went on.

She was happy, even though a little part of her life was incomplete, fragmented. She couldn't do much about it, and she decided it was better to give in to acceptance rather than questioning.

Her hopes and her dreams and all those other things that made her Orette stayed with her, and even that little memory that she was in love with a boy who had no name, only a face, stayed, pressed into her heart— as terribly cliché as it sounded.

But, every now and again when she was confronted in her dreams by the graceful looking witch, the process would begin all over again: thinking, pushing, ignoring, thinking, and then forgetting.

Over the years, growing from an awkward fifteen year old and then into a stunning twenty year old and so on, she led out her dreams and her hopes, as what most heroines dream of. She was married to life long friend Hayner. True love or not, the two were compatible and shared a grand relationship that could go up against the toughest obstacles. Like the reoccurring dreams, and the replaying fragments that gave her little sleep at night and sent her mind spiraling into perplexities that she could never seem to sort out.

But it was never really supposed to be like this, because although she loved Hayner from the deepest depths in her heart, her love for that boy who she could never clearly remember was just a lot deeper. It sporadically sent her into depressing pangs of guilt, because as much as she wanted, she couldn't pour her whole heart out for Hayner, because no matter how hard she tried to love him more, there was that boy tugging on her heart strings.

A few nights as both her age and her life progressed, she found herself returned with the same visions of honey spikes and whole-heart smiles that ended in her back on that malachite hill, meddling with the cerulean orb that had been with her since the dreams began appearing, and the memories disappearing. She smiled, admiring how brilliantly it glowed in the sunlight, creating those same cutout patterns onto her face that shone like diamonds.

Then the cycle began all over again for another countless number in life, from thinking to forgetting and then remembering again. His face was a clear picture, but his name was at the tip of her tongue, touching her speechless. This boy had turned her dreams backwards, upside down and all other directions that were humanly and inhumanly impossible, because that boy was bending her reality like a phantom.

As the heroine's story continued, so did her confusion. She began marveling over again about those fragments, like when she was young, doing her best to keep astray of them, but failing miserably.

That boy's name was swimming through her mind, but still, unattainable. Still, visions of the witch and smiles that made her heart skip a beat then make her guilty because she was married pursued. She knew that Hayner noticed, because every now and again she would see him give her that look, and he wouldn't talk for some time.

She recalled sweet and enchanted days when his smile drove the cloudy sky away. She even recalled some bits of memories of when she and that boy, with no name and no identity and her walked along hand in hand on warm summer nights, swearing to each other they'd never part. The both of them had lied.

The cycles began again.

She dreamed and remembered and cried and regretted and fumed and cried and realized that his image would haunt her for eternity. She mused on how incredibly ridiculous it was that her realest dreams vanished with the dawn. She wondered vaguely if he remembered her.

I'm the girl gave her heart out… do you remember me?

Did she remember him?

The clips played over and over again. Broken words, shadowed yesterdays, and faded fragments continued on like pain; sometimes there and sometimes not, occasionally fading into the foreground, and then resurfacing. He was in her heart, until it wasn't hers any longer. She began seeing the witch again as well, and it made her upset every time she couldn't sleep at night.

She tossed the azure orb around in her fingers, dejectedly. The words `In honour of dear Hayner' and `He was a great man' and `He loved his wife and children' and other terrible things didn't even penetrate into her thoughts because she was too full hosting honey spikes and champagne witches in her mind. She would have liked (loved) to cry, as she watched the cold casket descend into the rectangular pit in the earth made just for her husband, but…

The tears just didn't fall.

Ironic, isn't it? That she would cry at the flickering summers' memories she housed of a boy she didn't even know, and she couldn't seem to release any for the man who had loved her unconditionally all her life.

I'm a terrible person, she knew.

The clips and the horrors of rearranged memories never really faded away from her aging mind.

- -- - -

It was summer again, and that meant the sun peeking over the mountains' shoulder and the youth of Twilight Town were devouring Sea Salt Ice Cream and sitting on the clock tower and sparring for the big tournament. It was summer again, when vivid palettes of leaves poured through the town and the warm summer nights that made her remember the times when she and that boy grew just a little closer.

Those times long passed Orette. She didn't relish the cool taste of the salty, yet sweet ice anymore. She didn't climb the grand clock tower anymore or climb aboard the mysterious train seeking adventure any longer. No, those were the days when she was young and still very much in love. Such times had passed.

She'd grown ages old, and she was not in denial. She lived her life. She was wrinkled and old, and dammnit… she still remembers.

The broken words, the unspoken words, and the faded fragments still lingered in her heart.

Autumn had come, and summer is but a distant memory. Slowly, slowly her memory grew weary with age, but somehow that white witch and that beautiful boy with curious cerulean eyes were as fresh as if the cycle had started but yesterday. It felt like yesterday.

For a moment, she thought it was, but when she lifts her wrinkled hands, she knew she lived her life and yesterday is just a silhouette of the past, and it would be useless chasing after shadowed yesterdays'. She briefly dwelled on the years of her life; the crying in frustration, smiling when she remembered just a little bit of those chipped memories. But were those tears, or were they just the autumn rain, raining down on her half-remembered tune?

The broken words, the unspoken words, and the faded fragments still linger in my heart…

Once upon a time, upon one malachite coloured hill, beneath a tangerine sun, sat a girl with hopes and dreams and strength like any other heroine should have. The heroine lived her life and felt no regrets and despite the fact that the white witch toyed with her memories, she always held onto the hope that one day she would remember him.

She was old, but happy, upon the hill, and she smiled, with her last words lingering on her lips,

“And by the way, if we meet someday, you should know,”

 

“Remember, there is never goodbye.”

 

Because all fragments of our memories survive.

 

 

- -- - -

well, finally, another entry done for another challenge.
I can't say that I really am fond of this one shot ,because, well. I'm just not.
hmm. i've been whoring off of orette lately, no? well. it's sokay.
she is my favorite kh girly anyhow. so all's well, etc.

this is for rose's leading lady challenge. and blah, sorry it didn't come out that great.

disclaimer; standard disclaimer applies.