those whom nothing exists for. marluxia x naminé.
"We are nobody." She is weeping, the marble edge biting into her palms, as white and empty as he believes her to be, them to be. His robe is soft against her bare thighs. "Shadows..."
"Memories." The castle whispers the words along with him as he clutches her waist, strokes her cheek, pushes an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Nails skim her skin and she whimpers, hardly conscious of her own voice in the stream of his words. "Memories, NaminÃ©."
"Memories," she agrees, and the tears trickle into her hair.