Disclaimerism: ...the characters are not mine. Hooray! Gee, I wonder who they belong to.

Roxas' POV, if you were wondering. He is such a sentimental angstball.

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While Sora slept, he took over.

Not as in "Fight Club" Tyler Durdenesque takeover, with the real guy experiencing extreme insomnia and anxiety while Tyler tried to rule the world through his destructive plans. Not like that. He was limited to one short walk before his mindpower ran out and let go, before he tried again the next day. He trained himself to walk further and further around Sora's home, while everyone was sleeping.

Sora woke up on the floor or in the kitchen sometimes, in the morning. He didn't talk about it to his parents, or his friends. He didn't talk about it to Kairi, who had her own Nobody and who might relate. He decided to wait and see what would happen. He always hoped that Roxas would write him a message.

Roxas had tried. He could hear Sora's thoughts, and wanted to leave some kind of trace of himself for Sora to find and understand. But try as he might, the pen would always fall from his-- no, Sora's numb fingers because he couldn't control them well enough.

Tonight, he woke up at 2:14 am. Roxas lay there for a minute, enjoying the feel of having a body again. He could breathe. He could see and move his eyes and focus at different lengths. He could hear his heartbeat. But he was in a borrowed body. His breaths were not meant for himself; his eyes saw for Sora; his hands were Sora's hands.

Fuck this.

He got up out of bed, being careful not to slip. Although his mind was sleeping, Sora was still somewhat in control. Roxas stumbled to the door of the bedroom like a drunken person, Sora's mind saying sleep, sleep. Lie down, take a rest.

Turning the doorknob was the worst part. Roxas hadn't been able to let himself out for half a month (not that he would have had enough energy to walk far anyways), and as usual he fumbled with it.
Tonight, he wanted to get to the attic. He knew there was something in there that called to him. Really, it was stupid, but where else would he go? He had gone everywhere else in the house, through his nighttime wanderings. He had saved the attic for last, partly because of the stairs, but partly because he knew there was something there.

Stairs were hell. He almost lost control at one point, and Sora would have woken up halfway down the stairs with a bloody bump on his head. Roxas thanked the heavens that Sora didn't have his gigantic clown shoes on either.

He reached the attic door and pushed with his shoulder, too tired to lift his hand. The door opened.

I need a light. Damn... there has to be one somewhere.

A string brushed his cheek. Roxas pulled the knot with his teeth. He felt slightly bad about it (being Sora's teeth and all), but dismissed the thought and moved to the box in front of him.

Large, cardboard, used to contain a new television. Now it was old and worn and had "SORA" written on one side in blue permanent marker. It might have been blue. Or green. Or maybe black, but it was too dark to tell anyways and Roxas really didn't give a crap.

Because he just wanted to see what was inside (Fuck, when did his arms become so heavy? Not much time left...).

Luckily, it was on the top of the pile. Roxas would've collapsed while digging through the box's contents.
A keyblade. Shrunk to the size of an actual key. Chakram.

Red and white. Silver. Whatever. Roxas was fading, as he did every night, and he stumbled back down the stairs, his mind losing control as it tired and succumbed to sweet sleep.

Sora woke up in the morning, as usual. On his windowsill, there was a keyblade. Red, like fire; like blood. A phrase echoed in his groggy mind.
Got it memorized?
A message. It wasn't a letter, but it was good enough.

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A/N: ...so. Uhhh... first real posted fic? Haha. I really should redo it, but I'm a lazy bum. Review are nice.