Knotted Hearts

I hate this face.

The green eyes that stare back out at me from the mirror.

A worthless reflection.

I want to shatter this imitation, sending the echo of my image scattering freely in all directions and clattering to the floor, reduced to nothing but harmless glass shards. I wish only to prevent the lifeless gaze from showing me my fear. I had buried it so deeply, but this observant mirror has dug beneath my barricade and brought the evidence of my uneasiness to the surface.

At dusk, I watch the shadow of my reflection waver with the waning daylight. Seated cross-legged before the reflective surface, I stare at the outline of my slouching form, and I reach forward with hesitantly spread fingers. I press my fingertips against the ice-cold glass, thankful that I can no longer see my face, and I am no longer skewered by my own viridian gaze. I take a shuddering breath before allowing my gaze to slip from the mirror; my fingers gradually follow, grazing the smooth expanse before falling limply into my lap.

I wish I could say that I am in control.

But as time goes on, I feel that I no longer have authority; and then I am forced to question if I ever possessed anything of the sort to begin with. It is a disconcerting sensation, to lose oneself entirely. An uncomfortable numbness settles throughout my body, not out of fear, but resignation. I am strung to my memories by a frail thread; one careless step in the wrong direction and I could forget every moment of my time here, and I too will in due course be forgotten by the others.

Even with all the time that's passed and the multiple instances I have tripped over the shackles and puppet strings that bind me, I ignore the truth. Is it terrible to disregard ones own fate? No, ignorance is bliss. With this stubborn lack of awareness, I hasten onward with my head held high, regardless of the decisions weighing heavily upon my shoulders. I refuse to believe that someone out there is lording over my life.

I know the truth - that I never had the power to make my own choices, but I buried the rebellious thought somewhere in the back of my mind; I've been deluding myself far too long. I have never possessed the strength to hold fast to the things that matter. Like my trust. It is won and lost so easily; flexible, yet at the same time brittle like a paper-thin sliver of glass.

I used to mimic others. Trying on different masks, attempting to find one that fit – one that felt like me. I gave that all up, although I never quite relinquished the hope of finding myself one day. I exude confidence through a fiery façade, though I'm not sure how. We are men of many faces I suppose.

Demyx thinks we have hearts. Ever the optimist isn't he? I wish I could believe him; honestly I have tried. But if what he says is true, why do I feel hollow? The silence resounds achingly within my chest, louder I'm sure than any heart could ever beat.

I noticed you from the very beginning. It wasn't love at first sight; don't be ridiculous, my attention was more a morbid curiosity. From the moment you arrived, I have watched from a distance. Your sarcastic speech and unsuccessful attempts at smiles caught my interest. What would cause someone so youthful to wear such a contemptuous expression? I found myself brooding for hours on end, wondering what dark secrets might lay hidden behind that solemnly beautiful face.

For you are beautiful, truly; such innocent features are a stunning rarity among men. I remember the first time I spoke my mind on the subject, bluntly indicating your attractive appearance. You were not pleased, to say the least; although your reaction was quite entertaining. I can recall how your radiant blue eyes widened in surprise, a sea-salt popsicle slipping unnoticed from between your fingertips to land in a splattering mess on the floor. Your porcelain cheeks were touched momentarily by a swath of gentle pink, and your moist lips parted in angered astonishment. The string of profanity that followed the shocked silence was not quite so beautiful, and did not at all fit with your angelic appearance. Your crude language does no justice to your good looks.

I remember clearly the soft sound of Xion's laughter while he doubled over with tears of mirth spilling from his eyes as he witnessed our exchange. These moments the three of us shared, the diming recollections reverberate painfully within my head. Such simplistic beauty, these memories are agony to me now.

You constantly tell me that I smile too much, always with an annoyed expression and an aggravated grimace tugging at your lips. I retort, stating that you smile too infrequently. We agree to disagree.

I do wish you would smile more, if only for my sake. Your morose attitude is distracting, and alluring. I hate it, yet I yearn to see your somber face. I wish you would stop; your every move has become far too enthralling, and I fear I may never be able to force my gaze away.

I have a unique smile reserved just for you; it's so different from the false grins I obscure myself behind. You may say I smile too often, but that is only when I am with you. I cannot seem to contain it, that ridiculous grin that captures my lips every time I catch a glimpse of your jaggedly cut golden hair and skeptical blue eyes.

You may accuse me of smiling, but you my dear are guilty of staring. I am not as dense as some consider me to be, and I have not failed to notice the frequent glances you send in my direction, covert and longing. Yet despite your beckoning eyes, you never once approach me. Why do you insist on remaining alone?

Your secretive desire only serves to rekindle my own, and I arrive at a conclusive decision. I promise to fill you where you are empty; where you are hurt, I swear to tend to your wounds, and where you are broken, I will mend. I am resolved to chip away at the ice cold layer that encases you, until I unearth the warmth I know lies beneath.

I recall the day I cornered you, irritated by the way you attempted to avoid conversation while at the same time watching me with provocatively shameless eyes. You stare so openly, although in the beginning you would flush and turn away when my eyes rose to meet yours, grumbling about something of no concern. Now however, when our mutually heated gazes lock, your cheeks still blush virginally pink, but now you refuse to turn away. In the end it is I who am scorched by the need that clouds your blue eyes, and it is always I who breaks the connection.

Your actions and your words do not match up, and I am lost in the torrent of mixed signals. I decided I had endured enough, so I sought you out and once again straightforwardly stated my opinion. You were bashful, averting your eyes and gazing contemplatively at the shining toes of your black boots. I spoke to you gently; I know that is what you need more than anything else. Finally, after many tense minutes, you relinquished your dignity at last. You looked me directly in the eye - your gaze no longer wandering - and confessed your confusion.

Abruptly, your small palms pressed flat on both sides of my face, and rising carefully to balance on your toes, you caught my lips with your own. I had no time to react before the incredible sensation was over, you dropping back onto your heels and placing your slender fingers over your lips in astonishment. I have always wondered, did you feel it too? The current of pure silver that jolted the entire length of my body while at the same time blinding me as our lips met for the first time, did you notice it as well? Did you feel the emptiness lessen in that sacred moment? I could have almost sworn that I felt a blessed pounding in my chest.

I will always be able to recall those shaky words you spoke with amazement shimmering in your expressive eyes, for they are dear to me and mark the very beginning of everything cherish. "I'm not confused anymore," you whispered in a single breath before pressing your parted lips to mine. You were so startled by the discovery of passion. Your mystified blue eyes made me want to embrace you, and at the same time I wanted to cry. I have never desired something so strongly before, and I admit I am afraid.

So begins our uncertain game. In this world that never was we slide past one another, sharing tentative touches and fleeting glances, for we are both uneasy, like fugitives on the run. Never have I felt more alive, and never before have I felt such apprehension. This thing, whatever it is that we have – I know not what to call it – is so dangerously unsure, and we are balanced here together confident of our feelings, but not knowing where they will lead. We stumble forward, blind in the dark, with our cold fingers intertwined.

You come when I call, although your lips are twisted into a sardonic smile, sarcastically obedient as always. Your outline slowly emerges from the dark, shimmering around the edges, the tips of your golden hair touched by gossamer. Your head is bowed beneath your dark hood, and eerie shadows play across your unearthly exquisite features. To think that I would be so blessed to have the very essence of beauty perched at my side.

You gaze at me with cheerless blue eyes, tired eyes that have seen too much for someone still so young. But they hold some light yet, and I earnestly hope that not all is lost.

Your pouting lips tremble faintly, and you tilt your head slightly, delicate blue gaze clearly wording your unspoken question. You wonder why I called you here. We hardly ever meet during the daylight hours, for our game is best kept private, and our fondness for one another hidden from inquisitive eyes.

Truthfully, I brought you here out of selfishness. I merely wished to see you face, but then again, what more reason do I need?

I reach out with cautious fingers and move a tousled strand of flaxen hair away from your cheek. My hand pauses against the smooth flesh, and I savor the steady warmth I feel beneath my fingertips, coursing through the stiff material of my gloves. The intensity of your solemn cerulean gaze does not falter as you stare determinedly into my emerald green eyes. The bond is deceitfully pleasant as our gazes meet in an unforgiving dance. For although you are mine, you will never truly belong to me.

Tell me ethereal mirror, do the lifeless dream?

We share a secretive kiss, hidden in the shadows. Your rose tinted lips brush ever so gently against my own, and impatient hands wander greedily. We press close together for a single remarkable moment, our bodies fitting faultlessly against each other's, before we part with guilty yet pleased expressions. We are nobodies, heartless and undeserving of these deceptive feelings.

Under the bleak cover of night we meet again, and when we collide, we tangle. Our unsteady fingers grip painfully tight to one another in an irrational hope that we will not fade. I hold your small hands in mine. Your slender fingers are so child-like, and then I realize, with a regretful glance at your innocent features, that you are still a child. But you are not as naïve as you appear; the way your body grinds against mine is in no way pure.

My desire flows in unrelenting waves, and I explore your body with long curious strokes, touching you inside and out. Your reactions are numerous in variety, but each is equally stirring, and I am thrilled by each new discovery. The small patch of skin directly bellow your sharply protruding hipbone seems to be an extra sensitive spot, and I tease the silken flesh mercilessly, savoring every husky moan I can drag from between your lips. My tongue tastes every familiar curve, angle, and slope of your soft skin, and I relish the rare delicacy, the unique flavor, and the enticing scent. I want to worship every part of you, and I am relentless in my efforts. I do not pull away until you are quivering uncontrollably and struggling for breath. Even after I have caressed every inch of exposed flesh, I find myself craving more. Only I can make you awaken in this way; always remember that I know you best.

Is it horrid that I taint the purest blossom? You are far too young to discard your innocence, but I just cannot restrain myself any longer. I warned you that I have never been one with ample amounts of self-control, but you went and tempted me anyways. I make you unclean; I pollute your previously unadulterated beauty. I beg of you, force me to stop before it's too late.

You refuse to put an end to my selfishness; instead you grip my hair and haul me closer roughly, pleading with me to hurry. Your urgent request buries my doubts, and my lust reigns freely over my actions.

I steadily blend gold with red until we are nothing more than air; and we are hard-pressed to recognize where one body stops and the other begins. I only enter when you are begging, shoulders shuddering, lily white thighs trembling, parted in invitation and wet with desire.

I fill you, with everything that I can give. I set your lungs aflame as we learn to breathe as a single entity. You are so small, frighteningly breakable as you thrash within my achingly gentle grasp. Your eyes slip closed, and fear seizes hold of my lungs, crushing my every attempt to breathe. I begin to pull away, alarmed by your ragged breaths and pained expression, terrified that I may have harmed you. You open your eyes gradually, long eyelashes fluttering. No words are required to soothe my fears; I can only see satisfaction in your crystal blue gaze. Not a hint of discomfort dwells within that demanding stare. You desire me, and that is all I need.

For minutes, or maybe even hours, we are nothing more than mingling breaths, muffled screams, and hoarse requests. Torment takes many forms. I can see the evidence in your eyes. But surely this is the best of torture, to melt slowly, pitifully secure enveloped in your feeble embrace. You pull me closer with your thin arms, whimpering in pleasure.

The utter joy that comes with unity is tinged with bitterness, for my misgivings still weigh heavily on my mind. Is this real? How can it be, when neither of us are somebody? We are nothing more than delicate mist, and we cling to one another, desperate for something tangible. We search for something concrete to believe in, grasping blindly in the dark in a final attempt to save ourselves from drowning. We place our trust entirely into each other's hands and surrender.

I make empty promises. I know you want to have faith in my words, but a reflection holds no answers, a heartless can not love, and a nobody is powerless to speak.

All we can do is use the time we have and seek comfort within each other. You look so beautiful underneath me, breathtaking golden hair wound in-between my frigid fingertips.

I want to hear you say it; my name. Louder this time. It's okay to scream. No one will hear, and those who do will pay no heed.

My grip is harsh, as is your tongue. How much longer will we play this game? Until one of us falls apart? If that is the case, I wonder how much longer this will last, for I feel as if I am already bordering on destruction.

I'm sure my brutal grasp must be bruising your slim hips, but you make no sound of protest. I watch you struggle in blissful silence; you can not escape. I won't ever let go. I clutch at your salt-scented skin, terrified of being alone. Please, if you wish, hurt me, but never release me. Let me fall to ruin, as long as I may do so surrounded by your warmth.

What would the others say, if they were to see your sullied body and know that I was the one who defiled its purity? What would their reaction be if they could witness your sinful expression, the way your pink tongue glides along your bottom lip, tasting yourself in pleasure? Your indecent words bring further ache to my need, and I corrupt you with renewed vigor, tarnishing your utter perfection. What of our actions? Surely they would frown upon the way I plunge into you with longing while you eagerly swallow me in response.

With small kisses and cruel force, I coax my name from your lips once again. You shamelessly push against me, moaning and pleading like a weeping child. Where is your pride now? You dropped your arrogance at the door; it could not bear to pass into the room of a coward.

I watch you writhe beneath me, and I know we are approaching the end. Your stomach muscles contract violently, your fingers clawing at my back, and it does not take much more to push us both over the edge. A final arch, a last thrust, one more pleasured cry, and we reach ecstasy together.

We tumble exhaustedly into each other's arms, ignoring the soiled sheets for the time being. Every time it's over, satisfaction granted, we drift slowly. You look so peaceful, satiated in your sleep. But I know that tranquility is false, much like your outward appearance of innocence. I sea tears in your ocean eyes as you sob softly in your sleep. You may not even be consciously aware of your distress, but I could never fail to notice such a frightened expression. Cowering from conflict, you fear an inescapable fate: that we will vanish silently into unknown dark, and lose the very memory of each other's existence. I reach out my hand, but what good are the condolences of someone soundless and insubstantial. For behind my easy-going smile and my confident stance, I conceal just as much fear as you do. Like a child, I run from the dark. So I draw back and say nothing at all. I watch wordlessly as tears trail from fluttering black lashes and roll down your pale cheeks. I would never forgive myself if I forgot this warmth.

Crescent-shaped scars cover my shoulders where your desperately scrabbling fingers had finally found purchase. A ring of blue and purple encircles your throat, confirmation of our immoral deeds. How do we live on in these empty, fragile husks?

I settle down beside you, comfortable for the moment. Gradually my eyes slip closed, as I am lulled into a soothing sleep by the calm repetitive pattern of your breaths against my throat. I don't remember the last time I slept so fitfully, pathetically sheltered with your small arms clasped around my waist. Is it pitiable that I am not alarmed by the thought of perishing in battle, or being captured and slaughtered viciously? I fear only being ripped from your embrace, for if I have learned one thing in this dismal excuse for a life, it is that nothing is ever certain.

So pitiful, I don't even possess the strength to whisper the words you need to hear. How do you adore this mess? I can only beg of you: please don't give up yet.

We are bound this way eternally, knotted by reflection. Through wandering ripples of darkness, we are born of sacrificed hearts and mirrors.

I am nobody, yet I dream of you. I am your cynical shadow, but I hope to live within your memories.

You and I are merely reflections of a flawless form, the people we should have been. We are but imperfect ripples in the glass. Our very existence is a mockery; nevertheless, we feel fear within our vacant hearts of our inevitable separation.

A broken mirror can reveal no reflection, hope is but a shadow to empty shells, and a nobody's dreams can never become a reality. An unforgiving existence, we have no meaning, and one day we too will be nothing more than darkness.

So I'll do my best to be gentle, freeing you from your painful thoughts. I whisper soft lies in your ear, tenderly pretending this is love, and that we both have hearts.

But if you could promise me one thing

I would only wish-

That those words you whispered at the very end

Were the truth,

And we will one day meet again.

End.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts

This fic is for Destery, who made me fall in love with these two all over again.