Roxas/Sora
There are a lot more things than drugs to get addicted to
-x-
There were a lot more things than drugs to get addicted to, and Roxas knew this well. In the back of Sora's mind, in his subconscious, he remained, locked away—forgotten—where all he could do was watch. And he watched everything.
Sora fighting the heartless, killing organization members, and, there, in the back of Sora's mind, locked away, he watched Axel die. And, during his time, locked away and alone, he remembered. Becoming a Nobody, joining the Organization, betraying the Organization, and being brought into that simulated town.
He remembered all those thoughts lost to him upon entering that false world; Sora's memories, his previous memories. He had been lost, confused, and jumped eagerly at the thought of meeting Sora, rejoining his other, and becoming complete.
That was all he wanted, all he could focus on. And even when he regained previous memories of life in the Organization, having a best friend, having order, having fun, he pushed everything aside to see Sora. Just once, just once, that was all he wanted, all he needed, and he accepted his fate.
But there he was, locked away, and it was nothing like he thought—hoped—it was going to be. He didn't like being alone, being cast aside, being forgotten. He had experienced that once, and oh, it had hurt him. But, no, he would not be forgotten again, not like last time.
When Sora slept, Roxas would try to pry himself from the boy's subconscious; try to escape, try to run on nonexistent legs, try to break free. He was bored, frustrated, and didn't want to be cooped up any longer. Being trapped inside another body, he was fairly certain that he no longer maintained his own shell, but he wondered, if he could somehow break free, that he would be his own person, walk on his own legs, and touch his own body.
He clung to this idea, and every night, he felt himself slowly detaching himself from Sora, yet before he could accomplish anything, he would find himself, once more, forgotten in the darkest recesses of the keyblade master's mind while he went out and played in the sunshine with his friends.
Roxas no longer had friends; they were dead, or were no longer aware of his existence. He was so alone, and he wanted someone to talk to. He wanted to detach himself from Sora's being and talk, even if it was to the brunet himself.
Some nights, if he tried really hard, he could sneak into Sora's dreams. And there, there he would talk. He didn't care if the other boy was having a 'good' dream, or a 'bad' one. He just wanted attention.
"Roxas? What are you doing here?" Sora would ask, confused. As far as he knew, Roxas was only an alternate personality locked away in his mind, but when he was there, in his dreams, he was more. In his dreams, Roxas was no longer a voice in the back of his mind, crying and pleading to be released.
And when that dream-Roxas touched him, it felt real, even if it was only in his mind. He could feel fingers tugging at his clothing, running over exposed flesh, and when those same fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, the touch felt warm. But Sora, he knew that this wasn't right, wasn't possible, but in one's dreams, anything could be possible.
So when Roxas slipped into Sora's dreams, his dreams, he could manipulate them. And in doing so, making Sora cry out and writhe beneath him, he could feel complete. But, like a drug, such a feeling could only last so long.
And for that, all he had to do was come back for more.