In an attempt to have my soul spared by a minor (or major) mistake I made in the Riku/Xion FC, I shall attempt to ease the wrath of the mighty Rain with a short story/poem.
Here we go...
Here we go...
For someone who never knew who she was, she sure knew how to confuse other people.
The girl would remain alone, separate from the rest as she blended with the background around her, maybe hoping someone would notice her.
He noticed.
She was an outcast; he was one of them. And yet a spark was made--a spark that lit up even the darkest of nights. How, everyone asked, how could this have possibly happen?
They didn't know, but they knew it had happened.
Thus she was tortured, humiliated, called what girls like her were called.
This had the opposite effect; now she smiled more often, and instead chose not to be alone, but to be with him.
How did this happen, they keep asking.
Again with the threats, again with the hateful words, again with the meaningless violence.
And she kept smiling.
She said she knew now who she was.
He had figured it out as well, though it was she who told herself.
He found her, and she enjoyed it.
One day the hate stopped, you could assume that the crowd had moved on, though there were still hateful words and threats.
Of course none of this mattered to either one; the more it lessened, the more they clicked.
Until no resistance ensued, and that click soon became more.
She now knows who she is:
She is his love.
The girl would remain alone, separate from the rest as she blended with the background around her, maybe hoping someone would notice her.
He noticed.
She was an outcast; he was one of them. And yet a spark was made--a spark that lit up even the darkest of nights. How, everyone asked, how could this have possibly happen?
They didn't know, but they knew it had happened.
Thus she was tortured, humiliated, called what girls like her were called.
This had the opposite effect; now she smiled more often, and instead chose not to be alone, but to be with him.
How did this happen, they keep asking.
Again with the threats, again with the hateful words, again with the meaningless violence.
And she kept smiling.
She said she knew now who she was.
He had figured it out as well, though it was she who told herself.
He found her, and she enjoyed it.
One day the hate stopped, you could assume that the crowd had moved on, though there were still hateful words and threats.
Of course none of this mattered to either one; the more it lessened, the more they clicked.
Until no resistance ensued, and that click soon became more.
She now knows who she is:
She is his love.
