Fanfiction - Kingdom Hearts - With Dolls
Title: With Dolls
Fandom/Universe: Kingdom Hearts
Character(s): Squall, Yuffie
Rating: K+
Sometimes she wonders what it would have been like if she had gotten dolls instead of shurikens.
She wonders if her hands would be as blistered as they are now - full of nicks and cuts and rougher than sand paper. The nails are bitten down so low (a nervous habit that she tries to break everyday even though she knows that delicate nails and soft hands aren’t going to save her when the Heartless come ‘round) and the fingers themselves full of dirt and grime and blood.
She wonders if her hair would be tangled like this. Knots upon knots upon knots. Some of the parts so bad that instead of brushing it she just hacks off the hair right above the knots and throws it away. Maybe with dolls her hair would have been soft and when people touched it they would breathe in a deep smell of flowers and orange popsicles instead of dirt and sewer water.
She wonders if she would still feel dirty all the time - even just after a shower. She can scrub for hours and still never be clean. Not really. Her body and her soul are too stained with heartless blood and bad memories both of which carry with them a bitter aftertaste of multiple failures and broken dreams. Perhaps with dolls she’d be clean and warm all the way through. Then again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
But maybe with dolls she’d be happy - really and truly. Yeah, she tries to make the best out of it, but she isn’t made of steel. And truth be told, she’s been getting sick of carrying their happiness along with her. Why does she have to keep their goodness, their childhood, their innocence? Perhaps with dolls she wouldn’t have to smile all the time, because maybe with dolls everyone would be strong enough to smile for themselves. Even Leon-Squall.
Leon-Squall.
No...
Just Squall.
Maybe with dolls he could have stayed Just Squall.
Maybe with dolls she wouldn’t have to put up with the constant brooding of Leon-Squall...the most tormented male in the world or at least he acts like it even though she knows that he knows that a lot of people have it a lot worse and Leon-Squall is no more tragic than she is. No more tragic than dandelions really.
Maybe with dolls she’d be able to remember dandelions better.
But nothing grows in a forever-dark-wastelands of cold and heavy sweaters and rain just because. She doesn’t know dandelions or grass or even flowers anymore (except the small potted ones that Aerith keeps nearby just because...like the rain) but she mostly misses the sun because she’s been cold for awhile, but she still smiles anyway because she’s Yuffie Kisaragi and she’s fearless and she’s got shuriken to spare but no dolls, because this is a war zone goddammit.
So instead of warmth and hot chocolate and mothers and dolls she’s got shurikens and bruises upon bruises and tired eyes and Leon-Squall. She’s got rooftops and orange shoes and short hair, because brushing out the knots is pointless and she’s got artificial lighting all over the place even in her soul sometimes and she’s got smiles just because (like the rain and Aerith’s flowers) and she’s got spunk and spirit and ANNOYING BRAT labeled in brilliant letters across her forehead, because that’s who she is.
She leans back and lays her head in her hands. Leon-Squall sits beside her, upright and alert and waiting and ready for whatever fuck-awful monster decides to show its face to the two fighters waiting in the shadows for disaster or something like that.
“Squall?”
“Leon.”
“Leon-Squall?”
“Leon.”
“Geh.”
“Geh?”
“Leon’s a lame name. Anything’s better. Even Geh.”
“...”
“You listening?”
“...”
“I’ll assume that you are.”
“...”
“Do you think I should grow my hair out?”
“...what?”
“Nevermind.”
“Fine.”
“...Aren’t you even curious as to why I would ask you something like that?”
“No.”
“Fine...”
“Right.”
There is silence then. Heavy and thick and just there just because (like the rain and Aerith’s flowers and her own smile). She can feel it pressing upon her and against her and around her and through her and her her her. She hates this. Hates Leon-Squall silence that hangs there just because. She is sick of dealing with it. The silence and the just because and the way things are and shurikens instead of dolls except she’d never liked dolls anyway so why did it bother her, but she is sick of just going along with everything and never questioning and smiling without reason. She wants a reason.
“....................I love you.”
He turns to her then, confusion all over his beautiful tragic boy face that she’s known since before the world was made.
“What?”
She wonders what it would have been like if she’d had dolls instead of shuriken. She wonders if she’d still feel this way. She wonders if she’d still be here, still telling him this thing that’s been building up since she was just a kid. She wonders if she’d even know his name and which name it would be anyway. But then it hits her that she doesn’t want to know. Because maybe with dolls things would have been a million times worse and truth be told this life isn’t so bad and most of the time when she smiles she means it even if it is just a little bit.
She pushes herself off the ground then and dusts herself off and smiles like always, but not just because. She smiles because she means it. She smiles because she loves the rain and Aerith’s flowers and Squall’s (yes SQUALL’S - because that’s who he is thank-you very much) silence and that’s all she needs to know.
“Nevermind.” She giggles. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
And with that she darts away and she can feel his eyes on her retreating form and she’s still smiling because she doesn’t have dolls but she does have short hair and orange shoes and shurikens and Squall.
She has Squall.
Just Squall.
Just because.
Fandom/Universe: Kingdom Hearts
Character(s): Squall, Yuffie
Rating: K+
Sometimes she wonders what it would have been like if she had gotten dolls instead of shurikens.
She wonders if her hands would be as blistered as they are now - full of nicks and cuts and rougher than sand paper. The nails are bitten down so low (a nervous habit that she tries to break everyday even though she knows that delicate nails and soft hands aren’t going to save her when the Heartless come ‘round) and the fingers themselves full of dirt and grime and blood.
She wonders if her hair would be tangled like this. Knots upon knots upon knots. Some of the parts so bad that instead of brushing it she just hacks off the hair right above the knots and throws it away. Maybe with dolls her hair would have been soft and when people touched it they would breathe in a deep smell of flowers and orange popsicles instead of dirt and sewer water.
She wonders if she would still feel dirty all the time - even just after a shower. She can scrub for hours and still never be clean. Not really. Her body and her soul are too stained with heartless blood and bad memories both of which carry with them a bitter aftertaste of multiple failures and broken dreams. Perhaps with dolls she’d be clean and warm all the way through. Then again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
But maybe with dolls she’d be happy - really and truly. Yeah, she tries to make the best out of it, but she isn’t made of steel. And truth be told, she’s been getting sick of carrying their happiness along with her. Why does she have to keep their goodness, their childhood, their innocence? Perhaps with dolls she wouldn’t have to smile all the time, because maybe with dolls everyone would be strong enough to smile for themselves. Even Leon-Squall.
Leon-Squall.
No...
Just Squall.
Maybe with dolls he could have stayed Just Squall.
Maybe with dolls she wouldn’t have to put up with the constant brooding of Leon-Squall...the most tormented male in the world or at least he acts like it even though she knows that he knows that a lot of people have it a lot worse and Leon-Squall is no more tragic than she is. No more tragic than dandelions really.
Maybe with dolls she’d be able to remember dandelions better.
But nothing grows in a forever-dark-wastelands of cold and heavy sweaters and rain just because. She doesn’t know dandelions or grass or even flowers anymore (except the small potted ones that Aerith keeps nearby just because...like the rain) but she mostly misses the sun because she’s been cold for awhile, but she still smiles anyway because she’s Yuffie Kisaragi and she’s fearless and she’s got shuriken to spare but no dolls, because this is a war zone goddammit.
So instead of warmth and hot chocolate and mothers and dolls she’s got shurikens and bruises upon bruises and tired eyes and Leon-Squall. She’s got rooftops and orange shoes and short hair, because brushing out the knots is pointless and she’s got artificial lighting all over the place even in her soul sometimes and she’s got smiles just because (like the rain and Aerith’s flowers) and she’s got spunk and spirit and ANNOYING BRAT labeled in brilliant letters across her forehead, because that’s who she is.
She leans back and lays her head in her hands. Leon-Squall sits beside her, upright and alert and waiting and ready for whatever fuck-awful monster decides to show its face to the two fighters waiting in the shadows for disaster or something like that.
“Squall?”
“Leon.”
“Leon-Squall?”
“Leon.”
“Geh.”
“Geh?”
“Leon’s a lame name. Anything’s better. Even Geh.”
“...”
“You listening?”
“...”
“I’ll assume that you are.”
“...”
“Do you think I should grow my hair out?”
“...what?”
“Nevermind.”
“Fine.”
“...Aren’t you even curious as to why I would ask you something like that?”
“No.”
“Fine...”
“Right.”
There is silence then. Heavy and thick and just there just because (like the rain and Aerith’s flowers and her own smile). She can feel it pressing upon her and against her and around her and through her and her her her. She hates this. Hates Leon-Squall silence that hangs there just because. She is sick of dealing with it. The silence and the just because and the way things are and shurikens instead of dolls except she’d never liked dolls anyway so why did it bother her, but she is sick of just going along with everything and never questioning and smiling without reason. She wants a reason.
“....................I love you.”
He turns to her then, confusion all over his beautiful tragic boy face that she’s known since before the world was made.
“What?”
She wonders what it would have been like if she’d had dolls instead of shuriken. She wonders if she’d still feel this way. She wonders if she’d still be here, still telling him this thing that’s been building up since she was just a kid. She wonders if she’d even know his name and which name it would be anyway. But then it hits her that she doesn’t want to know. Because maybe with dolls things would have been a million times worse and truth be told this life isn’t so bad and most of the time when she smiles she means it even if it is just a little bit.
She pushes herself off the ground then and dusts herself off and smiles like always, but not just because. She smiles because she means it. She smiles because she loves the rain and Aerith’s flowers and Squall’s (yes SQUALL’S - because that’s who he is thank-you very much) silence and that’s all she needs to know.
“Nevermind.” She giggles. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
And with that she darts away and she can feel his eyes on her retreating form and she’s still smiling because she doesn’t have dolls but she does have short hair and orange shoes and shurikens and Squall.
She has Squall.
Just Squall.
Just because.