A/N: This has been an ongoing story in my English journal. Updates may be slow, but they will be long.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They are not being used for profit.

Melodia

"Do you know why you're here, Sora?"

The boy said nothing. He turned his head the slightest bit to the left to watch the breeze flutter the leaves of the tree outside, which had grown astoundingly close to the window, replacing the view of the sleepy beachside with a thick gnarled branch. When the wind blew hard enough, several little twigs would scrape against the glass like fingers, begging to be let in. Were it within his power, Sora would give anything to trade places with it.

The quiet shuffle of paper stole his attention, directing him back to the desk, where the doctor was eyeing him intently. Sora shifted, the stiff chair digging sharply into his shoulderblades no longer the only thing making him uncomfortable. He knew what was coming next.

"Sora, you need to stop this. It's getting out of hand."

As if it were that easy.

The doctor sighed, his hands falling to his desk – solid mahogany, with everything arranged properly on the surface. He liked things organized. It was his firm belief that everything that ever existed had its place; the world was a puzzle, and it was his job to put it back together. Even this strange little boy belonged somewhere in it all.

With another pointed glance towards the brunette boy over the rim of his glasses, he started off slowly, "We create fantasies as extended versions of our lives. In them, we are better, stronger, wiser...they allow us to do the impossible. Sometimes we create them because we are insecure. And sometimes we create them to make up for the things we are lacking..." His voice dropped to a sympathetic murmur, "Such as the loss of a parent, for instance."

Sora's shaking fingers curled over the armrests, tightening. "It has nothing to do with him."

The doctor pressed on. "Well, we don't always realize - "

"I won't talk about this," Sora interrupted, voice strained, and refused to meet the doctor's eyes.

The next few minutes were spent in a tense silence until the doctor spoke again.

"Alright, Sora. You may go."

Sora wasted no time leaving the office. He bolted up from the chair and began to walk toward the door in heavy strides.

"But remember..."

He paused at the quiet voice, standing just in front of the door, his hand reaching for the knob.

"There are always people who want to help you."

Sora seemed to consider it for a moment, then helped himself out, not even bothering to see who entered the office behind him.

"Hey!"

A boy stood on the sidewalk outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building, his hands shoved inside a hooded sweatshirt two sizes too big for him. His hood concealed any defining features, except for the clump of jagged bangs that peeked out over his forehead. A lollipop stick hung out of his mouth, worn and bent, dangling from the corner of his lips. Shadowed blue eyes turned at the call.

"Took you long enough." He pushed himself from the wall, falling into step beside the other. He yanked down his hood to expose a mass of spikey yellow hair, and smoothed it out with his palm. The unspoken question between the two said they were heading towards the cafe they frequented, a nice little place where the food was always fresh, and the people friendly, where the brothers occasionally skipped school to sample the cafe's newest special.

"Sorry. He wouldn't stop talking. I tried to leave early..." Sora shrugged his shoulders, momentarily indulging in the crisp crunch of leaves beneath his shoes. It had been a particularly long session, but that was only because the doctor was so damn persistent. He spared a glance to his brother, who seemed to be listening with quiet understanding. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was being ignored.

He let the sounds of Autumn fill the gap in their conversation before adding in a mumble, "He asked about Dad."

Roxas pulled the lollipop from his mouth and examined its remains.

"And?"

Sora stared. "And what?"

"Does it bother you?"

The brunette shrugged again. "Not..." he swallowed, "not like it used to."

A hand fell on his shoulder. "I know what you've been thinking about."

Roxas's words cut him like a dagger to the back. He tensed and whirled around, stunned. Though Roxas held him loosely, the intent in his eyes was enough to keep Sora in place. Deciding to play innocent, he dared to ask in a breathless whisper, "What?"

The blonde dug through his pockets and produced a piece of paper. With a hardened stare, he handed it to Sora. "I found this in your room."

Sora unfolded the paper carefully, stalling for time, trying to bid away the dread eating through his stomach. The moment he saw a flash of bright red, he crumpled the paper in his fist.

"You said you stopped, Sora." Roxas sounded surprisingly calm, but Sora could hear the bitterness underneath.

"I can't," he admitted in a pathetic whisper. His brother's eyes reflected a mixture of pity and disappointment, and Sora turned away because he knew it would only get worse.

Roxas huffed angrily, insulted at being brushed off. "You can stop it. If you just let me help, I could - "

This time, it was Sora who grabbed his brother, his hands steady on his shoulders. He spoke slowly and clearly. "I. Can't."

Roxas's mouth formed a tight line.

"Give me the picture."

"It's not yours," Sora said, bringing it closer to himself.

"Why can't you let it go?!" Roxas demanded, staring him down in a way that made him feel almost shameful. "They're not even real!"

Sora hugged the crumpled picture to his chest, trying to preserve what was left of his most precious dream. He swallowed down his doubts. "That's not true. They're my friends."

A look of hurt flashed across Roxas's face. "I'm your brother!"

"Sure don't act like one," Sora muttered under his breath, pushing past him. When he realized Roxas wasn't following, he glanced over his shoulder. The blonde hadn't moved from his spot, and was standing there with a strangely neutral expression.

"Roxas?" Sora asked tentantively, walking back over.

Slowly, icy blue eyes fixed upon the brunette.

"Is that what you really think?"

Mouth slightly agape in surprise, Sora reached out to him, fighting the urge to curse. He hadn't actually meant for him to be within hearing distance when he said that, but now the damage had been done.

"Roxas - "

"Fine!" Roxas screamed, cutting him off. An angry red flush was forming across his face, as if he had been physically slapped. "Have fun with your new life!"

"Wait, Roxas!" Sora called frantically. But Roxas had already turned on his heel and ran.

The bell above the door chimed as Sora stepped inside the cafe, its merry jingle cut short as he closed the door, looking sullen. The woman behind the counter noticed and greeted him with a soft smile, beckoning him over. When she finished serving her customer, she turned to him. "What's wrong, sweetie?" She propped her elbows on the creamy surface of the counter, her big brown eyes warm and comforting. Her wavy black hair was pulled back into a loose braid, a teal ribbon tied around the end. She was young, somewhere in her late twenties, but she was the closest thing to a mother Sora and Roxas had. His eyes dropped to the edge of the counter, where he traced the fine curves of a delicate golden design.

"Has Roxas come by?"

The woman pursed her lips. "Nope, haven't seen him all day."

Sora groaned, burying his face in his arms. "That makes two of us."

Another customer stood by the counter with a scowl, growing impatient as he waited for his coffee. He raised his finger and opened his mouth to make a statement, only to be waved off by the shopkeeper as she leaned forward in genuine concern. "What? What happened?"

As Sora talked, she turned around and began pouring coffee into a mug. The customer breathed a sigh of relief.

"So then," Sora continued, "We got into a fight, and I haven't seen him since yesterday. I – said some things to him, and – Jasmine, what if he doesn't come back?" He peered up at her with the eyes of a lost child, which made sense because Roxas was the more mature one of the two, the one who held their little family together, and Jasmine could see the fright in his eyes at the prospect of him never returning.

"Aw, I'm sure he will." Jasmine patted his arm. "He's probably just staying at a friend's house. Don't worry yourself sick about it, okay?" She handed him the mug, which wasn't filled with coffee at all, but foaming over with hot chocolate. The forgotten customer sighed in defeat and stomped out the door.

Sora nodded numbly as he took the drink, and Jasmine knew his mind was somewhere else, far away in a distant land she had never heard of. Most people didn't understand Sora like she did, and though she tried to stay out of the brother's quabbles and loved them both equally, she was aware of a part of Sora that Roxas couldn't seem to grasp. She certainly didn't think there was anything wrong with him, he was a dreamer; she admired that. Who knew, maybe he really did see those things that Roxas had mentioned to her with a critic's regard. They sounded a lot more interesting then what she saw on a daily basis. As more customers filtered in, Jasmine offered Sora a slight smile before going into the back.

Sora took slow gulps of his drink, wondering if he should go looking for Roxas or just wait for him to come home. It was at that moment that he felt something slick and cold slithering around his ankle. His body jolted, sending the mug skidding across the counter, the hot chocolate scalding his hand. Bright yellow eyes stared at him curiously from the floor. Oh god. He had seen this before. He knew what this was. His breath catching in his throat, Sora stumbled and fell off his chair. There was a shatter, a cry, and Jasmine came running out. People turned their heads towards the commotion.

Oblivious to the calls of his name, the brunette stared at the toppled stool, which lay on its side in the midst of broken porcelain and...blood? Jasmine inhaled sharply. Three deep gashes marred Sora's arms in zigzags, the flesh torn by the brutal twisting and scraping of claws. Blood darkened almost black flowed down to his fingers in thick driblets. The fingers clenched, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.

Jasmine rushed to his side, afraid he had gone into shock. Behind her, people were leaving the corrupted silence of the coffee shop in a hurry.

"How did this happen?!" She asked frantically. She grabbed his body to steady him as he swayed. Sora didn't answer, his head moving downwards in a slow loll. A strange calmness fell over him, as if he was at home, sitting in bed. Darkness lurked in the edges of his vision, and soon, it was all he could see. And then... nothing.

The first thing Sora noticed when he awoke was that the blanket draped over him was far too uncomfortable. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't his room, either, he noticed as he opened his eyes. He moved to get up, using his elbow as leverage, but a searing pain in his arm sent him tumbling onto his back. He raised his arm cautiously in front of his face. Flashes from earlier came rushing at him. They jolted his system, made him want to jump out of bed and fight all hell's wrath, but all that was rather hard to do with an IV sticking out of your arm.

Sora ripped it out with a quick tug, then turned back to his arm, which now lay beside him in a pitiful heap of stained bandages. With some effort, he managed to squeeze a finger beneath the tightly bound wrappings and forced them upwards, inch by inch, until his cuts were fully visible. They didn't look nearly as bad when they weren't bleeding, but had now adopted a sickly purple undertone. He knew it to be venom, but it would stay within the confines of the cuts, couldn't spread through his body as long as he got it out on time. It still stung like a bitch, though. And that was the worst part. It was teeth-grittingly painful, more so than the cut itself. As long as the poison remained, so would the sting. It had to be removed immediately, manually – all of it. Sora laid a hand on his arm, bracing himself.

When the door opened, he was nearly done, his fingers dug inside the last wound, the portion of blanket beneath his arm soaked in blood. Well, at least the blanket was good for something.

His face lit up when Roxas came into the room. He struggled to push himself up, and threw himself at him, hugging the other boy with his good arm.

"Gross." Roxas made a face at the mess coating his brother's shirt, but hugged back anyway. The relief washing over Sora was so strong, he could have fallen to the floor. He actually started to, until Roxas helped him back to the bed. "Stop moving these," he scolded, pulling the gauze back into place. "And keep the IV in, or you'll get sick. You haven't eaten in days."

"Days?" Sora echoed, looking at him in disbelief. Had he really been asleep that long?

Roxas nodded, and when he turned to him, Sora could see the faint outlines of bags under his eyes. "Yes. Three days."

Sora fiddled with the blanket. "And how long have you been here?"

Roxas glanced away. "Three days."

Sora nodded mutely, closing his eyes. A different sting prickled at the back of them. "You know," he started quietly, "What I said before...I didn't mean it." He let out a conflicted breath. "You've always been there for me. I should try doing the same for you." There was a heavy sigh, and the weight of the bed shifted as Roxas laid down beside him.

"It's not that," he concluded, gazing up at the blank plaster stars of the ceiling, empty little bumps against a colorless sky. "I don't mind taking care of you. I just wish you would stop hiding yourself in these dream worlds and concentrate more on the one you're in. I don't care about the money. I don't even care about the rumors. I just want you to get better."

"But there's nothing wrong with me," Sora said meekly, watching his brother's reaction carefully. Roxas turned to him, looking postively exhausted.

"Look," he stated. "Things like that... they don't happen, Sora, okay? Not for us." His face shifted into a somber frown as his gaze traveled down Sora's arm. "And now you're hurting yourself?"

Sora opened his mouth to retaliate, but Roxas shook his head. "Can you even tell me who's more important to you?"

Finding himself unable to answer, Sora reluctantly looked to the floor. Having expected such, Roxas stood, sparing him a last glance before announcing that he had somewhere to go and would be back the next day, when he was to be released from the hospital.

"Mmhm," Sora mumbled, drawing the blanket up to his chin as he watched his brother leave. It may have been hot in the stuffy little room, but beneath the blanket, he was shivering. The remaining wound, the one he didn't finish removing, had become a gruesome purple.

Roxas stood next to the door of the therapist's office, waiting for the doctor to finish his current session. He looked down at his watch, and to his dismay, found the time to be an hour later than when he came in. What was taking so damn long? He didn't want to be here in the first place. Dragging out the process was just adding insult to injury.

Finally, he heard a click behind him and turned around. He didn't want to seem rude by staring, but he was curious to see who his own meeting got delayed for.

A hand came into view, and right away Roxas could tell it was a man, but instead of the strict demeanor he was expecting, he was met with kind hazel eyes and a knowing smile. The man tipped his head in acknowledgment, as if to apologize for the wait, before walking past him. Following him was a girl who bowed her head so her face couldn't be seen. Silvery-blonde hair covered her eyes and most of her features, but her high cheekbones and trembling mouth were prominently visible. Roxas felt obligated to say something, some kind words of encouragement to make her feel better, but nothing was coming to mind.

"You can come in now," Someone called. Roxas hesitated, not wanting to take his eyes off the two, but the hefty weight sitting under his arm reminded him why he was there.

He didn't bother with formalities, just dropped the manilla folder right on the doctor's desk. "It's all there," he said, clearing his throat to mask the guilt lacing his words. His body relaxed at the loss, but his heart was burdened with something far more troublesome. "You won't mention this to him, will you?"

"No, I won't," the doctor assured as he flipped open the cover, his dark eyes sparking to life like fireworks in a dull night sky. Roxas ignored the twinge of anger he felt at the man for not bothering to hide his curiosity. His gaze strayed to the bronze name plate on the desk, which was engraved with sleek embossed letters, spelling out "DR. IENZO WILLIAMS, M.D."

Engrossed in the papers, Ienzo hummed in the back of his throat. "Have you seen these? Have you shown them to anyone?"

"Huh?" Roxas looked up, noticing the doctor was eyeing him like one of his patients. "No, I haven't," he responded, and Ienzo seemed to be almost satisfied with that, except for the leer he was sending him.

"He hasn't shown you at all?"

"No," Roxas repeated, lying about the one drawing he had seen earlier. He was growing quite irritated.

"Well, then, you can go, thank you." Ienzo waved him off and turned back to the papers.

Roxas glowered at him, now very interested in whatever it was the doctor wanted to confirm that he didn't see. This man would not be able to hide anything from him, especially something concerning Sora. "Actually, could I see some of those?"

Ienzo slowly put the papers down, his eyes lingering on one as he spoke. "Absolutely not," he deterred. "I've taken an oath of patient confidentiality. It would be wrong of me to violate that."

Roxas's eyes slanted as he crossed his arms. "You weren't concerned about confidentiality when you asked me to get that for you."

"Yes, well, there are circumstances," The doctor said, his voice raising a fraction. He stood, herding the blonde boy to the door. "Now, please leave. I've got work to do."

"But the pictures - "

"Now."

Roxas frowned suspiciously, and while biting his tongue against words that burned to escape, pivoted quickly and stormed outside. Everyone in the lobby had gone home, leaving the doctor as much time as he liked to leaf through Sora's most personal thoughts. Even the streets were deserted; the air had grown humid and heavy. Rain spackled the ground, and the sun overhead was slowly fading into a gray dusk. Roxas walked with his hands in his pockets, his face as downcast as the weather. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd betrayed Sora.

Sora walked the hallways in silence, taking care to check beyond each corner before he turned them. Soon, he reached a long corridor that was as empty as all the others that came before it, but it was partially illuminated by a few dimmed light panels. He couldn't see the end of the hallway, but began to walk down it anyway. It was too late to turn back.

As he continued on, the lights flickered forebodingly, then shut off. Sora's head snapped up, and as he looked around in the void thinking that yes, maybe it would be a good idea to go back, something dropped. A figure slowly came into focus. Sora had to squint to see it against the darkness. It stood directly in his path, just a few feet away. He immediately took a step back, deciding it was a nurse or doctor who'd caught him sneaking out. Damn, he was fed up with doctors. But as his eyes adjusted, he was able to see that it was draped in something – a blanket maybe? - and its head, which hung low, was covered by a thin layer of the fabric, a makeshift hood.

It raised its head, showing its distorted face. Huge glassy eyes popped out above hollowed, sunken cheeks, staring him down, revealing nothing but the reflection of its surroundings. Its rubbery skin was a pale mud brown streaked with black, ashes laying in the dirt, and the entire face narrowed down to a point, resembling something of a melted gas mask.

It began to open its mouth, Sora watching in morbid fascination. And just like that it let out a terrible wail, a deafening screech that had Sora skidding back and blocking his ears against the noise. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, he was unable to pinpoint it in one direction though the creature stood right in front of him, was unable to do anything but cry out, oh, God, that noise! and nearly fall to his knees.

The lights came back on in unison, and some people, the ones who had the energy to get out of bed at such a late hour, came bursting out of their rooms. Sora wobbled on his feet, feeling woozy. Two doctors rushed over from opposite ends of the hall, and now he could see a staircase at the end of it. He had been so close to getting out...

Another patient leaned out of their doorway, claiming loudly that they had seen everything. Good, Sora thought, feeling a little better. They saw it too.

The woman thrust a chubby finger at Sora. "He was the one doin' all the screamin'!"

In the midst of a crowd of people, Sora stared dumbly at her. What?

"It was him," The woman stated with a strong conviction. There was an eruption of murmurs and a few nods, and suddenly a lot more people had bore witness too.

"It's true!"

"I saw him with my own eyes! He was the only one out here."

"He woke me up with all that yelling... and I was having such a good dream, too..."

"What the hell did he see to make him scream like that?"

One of the doctors took out his radio and mumbled something into it.

"No!" Sora denied their accusations, looking around desperately for someone to believe him. "It wasn't me! Didn't you see what happened?"

A minute later, a rickety clanging drowned out the gossip. The crowd dispersed, making way for the doctor hurtling through with a stretcher. Suddenly people were grabbing Sora from all sides, trying to lift him onto it.

"It's all right," the newest doctor told him, pushing a hand against his forehead. "Just relax." He turned to the crowd disapprovingly. "And you lot! Quit being nosy, go back to your rooms."

The people grumbled but started to comply, with the exception of one who lingered at the back of the group.

Sora struggled against his captors, and he would have been able to break free, had it not been for the sharp prick in his arm. "What was that?" He cried, staring at them.

"Relax," they said. And Sora did, right on cue, his body sagging forward in their arms. His eyelids drooped, his movements becoming sluggish. Unwilling to go down without a fight, he pushed one of the doctors with a sudden burst of energy. The small gap was all he needed to slip away. He could barely walk, let alone run, and though they were likely to catch him again he kept going, using the wall as support, his elbows hitting the concrete each time his arms buckled under the pressure.

Whatever hope of escape he'd been harboring died when someone grabbed his wrist...until they started pulling him in the other direction.

"C'mon!" Shouted a deep, distraught voice, and as Sora stumbled along he thought it sounded awfully familiar. He tilted his head up, but his eyelids were almost fully closed and he couldn't see their face. He didn't think, just allowed himself to be tugged along. They turned sharply, narrowly moving out of reach of one determined doctor, and thundered down another hallway.

Almost all of Sora's weight was on the other boy now. Everything was beginning to blur together – the walls, the floor, the hand on his. He groped blindly for his rescuer's sleeve and gave it a weak tug, trying to warn him that he couldn't hold out much longer. Their bodies were close enough for Sora to feel the boy tense, which in turn made Sora anxious. Was that it? Had they nowhere left to run? But in a second, they were running again, and this time they weren't alone. He could hear shouts behind them, hurried footfalls telling him they didn't have much time left. The stranger was holding his arm so tightly that he wasn't really guiding him so much as dragging him. It hurt, but it was alright, as long as they got out. He wasn't about to protest. He could barely form a coherent thought as it was.

Sora was released without warning, and for a split-second he panicked, thinking that the boy had fled to save himself. He reeled forward, but instead of hitting a wall, he fell against something soft. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him still.

There was the sound of bolts locking into place, and the ground started rumbling. The light melody of easy listening music resounded through the air.

"They're gonna be waiting for us," the voice mumbled. Sora felt the boy's chest heaving beneath his hands. He felt bad for him, and wanted to thank him, but couldn't open his mouth. "So when the doors open, don't move."

Soon, when the doors did open, and the doctors on the other side looked in with confusion on their faces, the two boys stood very still against the control panel. One doctor took a step forward, and the boys dashed from the elevator, heading for the door, and then they were gone, gone, gone.