Author's Note(s): This is the first part of a prompt challenge I am presently participating in; my particular claim is "RikuRoku," and a few details have been adjusted to make the coupling.. Possible? This collection of fanfictions, thus, may contain spoilers to the end of Kingdom Hearts II. Just be prepared for that.

And lots of Roxas-emo.

This particular story's prompt: Whispers of the night.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the Kingdom Hearts characters and the related universe do not, in any manner, belong to me, but instead to the respective creator's of Squeenix, and Disney. Kudos to them.

"What's it like... Not to have a heart?"

It was a question Sora had long since adopted following his return to Destiny Islands, where his gaze would stray to the heavens, lost in the sea of stars as clouds drifted in an aimless manner; leaning against the perch of his window-sill, the brunette would allow a hand to dangle idly from the second story of his home, listening to the quiet wash of waves against the beach as he waited.

And yet knew no answer would come.

For how could one know what it was like when they hadn't a heart to realize what they had missed?

Roxas was often the victim of inquiries in these late hours of the night, where Sora could find no rest and thought to entertain him and the persona within. And though the blond could appreciate this tactic.. He almost found himself resenting this attempted conversation, the pull and tug of a stranger otherwise lost to him, and he simply using his body as a vessel.

What's it like to exist?

Through Sora, Roxas lived, seeing through eyes that did not belong to him, moving with legs that he could never operate. Hands would grasp wooden planks as feet blindly groped for purchase, and together, they would scale a ladder. But where Sora would become labored with fatigue, Roxas was not plagued, for he did not breathe, his heart did not beat, and he wasn't limited to a need of oxygen to cleanse his burning lungs. He was a parasite, hosted by a hero who had birthed him with sacrifice, bringing him into a world of misery and loneliness. He could not hate, he could not love, he could not feel anything at all.. And yet beneath the emptiness, he recognized the lonely lull of the world around him.

Often, when Sora was asleep, Roxas would detach himself and wander the beach, eventually taking rest on a wooden dock. His gaze would swim across the vast ocean, mesmerized by the waves, watching them fall against the white sand just beneath his reach, and yet never would he feel its warmth between his toes. Never would the salt of the sea lick at his feet, chilling him to the bone on a warm, summer day, with the hot sun beating from above.

He could hear the sounds of the world beyond him, and see it within its splendor.. But he would remain lost to its cradle.

It was periods such as these, where midnight was its bleakest, the horizon smothered in the gloom of darkness, that Roxas enjoyed the most; quietly, the wind whispered to him, his eyes carried to the depths beyond the world and he wondered... Just how far did this land stretch? If he was to take a boat, a manufactured raft of sticks, and logs, and crude lengths of rope... What regions would he reach?

It was an idea, he realized, selected from the memories of Sora. The boy's youth had played like a film through his mind, and with countless hours did Roxas witness a life he would long to live, but never grasp within his hands. A child-hood, as a baby, to an infant, to a tumbling toddler and eventually a child.. A teenager, a young adult, gradually slinking through life and toward the greatest adventure yet, where death would take one into its cold embrace.

And that was the end.

Roxas did not love, and he would not die, at least not until Sora met his fate.. And then what? What would become of him? A person without friends, without company, without anyone to mourn his passing.. Axel had died, one of few who had claimed their existence of a heart, one of fewer yet that had accepted him. Someone who did not exist, and could not. They had been simple figments.

As he sat upon the dock, hands gripping the aged wood beneath his palms, he would feel the approach of a familiar presence, only known to him through a repeat of experiences.. And the thoughts of Sora's mind. Edging from the darkness and the safety of a small boat, the figure would pace the length of surface, footfalls heavy yet measured in their approach. Then, pausing at the end of the berth would his legs buckle beneath him, and with the grace not meant to be composed in such a tall individual, would he settle at the harbor's edge.

Roxas has often wondered about the being of Riku, his attention focused upon the company that did not realize he was there, the other void; with a leg bent beneath a raised arm, the other youth would lounge, luxurious in nature, elegant, but dangerous. He recalled having fought him, not once, but a great number of times.. And Riku, spent beneath his power, would make an eventual retreat, leaving the blond in the clutches of a world where he did not belong, and where he acknowledged it was so. Or as it went, until finally, he was defeated.

Often, did Sora express the eternal desire to see his home, to rediscover his best friend, and for them to make their leave together. And while Roxas had been convinced this was a desire shared by the youths, watching the separate party, he could only muse.

How many countless nights, accompanied by the twilight, had Riku sought the shadows for response? With his eyes into the bleak never-land, expression empty and guarded from his thoughts, what was it he sought as he sat, stilled, mind churning for solutions?

What was it he had lost.. And now yearned to regain?

Roxas had often been jealous of Sora's relationship with his friends, his own longing for those he believed to once have - Olette. Pence. Hayner - ever overwhelming in the darkness of his mind. And while Sora could gloat in the memories of yore, Roxas lived without, a mere audience to a life he recognized as his host's, he wishing for nothing more than to gain something of similar value.. And to be recognized. Loved. Cared for.

"What's it like..."

Riku's words would be swept aside by the ocean's roar as a wave tumbled into the harbor, but neither moved to escape the spittle of the sea. Lapsing into a brooding nature, the male's features would twist with debate, mind groping to recognize the thought lost to him. And Roxas would remain, patient for this discovery, curious to this incomplete statement.

Frequently did Riku visit the pier to question the darkness of the evening, often remaining to watch as dawn graciously approached, only to leave when the tiniest peak of light hit the far horizon. And there, Roxas would stay in his wake, deliberating what oddities Riku would mumble the next time they happened across each other, though the other never realizing he was far from alone in these tyrants.

"... Not to exist?"

Cut from his thoughts, Roxas blinked at this inquiry, bemused yet equally disheartened to hear the somber tone tugging at Riku's voice. Thoughtfully, he turned to watch the other lean back against his arms, hands planted upon the jetty as his head canted back to regard the stars. With a quiet sigh, the male's chest rose, then fell, and again silence surrounded them with the stereo of the ocean smothered in their quiet.

Was it common for those with an existence to wonder such? For those who contained a past, a future, even a present.. Why would the idea of not thriving with life cross their mind?

Unable to keep the frown that sullied his features, the blond would shift as he came to rest upon his knees, peering into Riku's face as the other did not notice. Eyes lost to the constellations that resided above, his gaze tracked the paths he had often traced as a child, Sora seated at his side and often staring wonderingly to the heavens above...

Silently, Roxas directed his gaze to follow his company's, finding nothing of immediate interest before he would settle to regard the male once more. His facial did not change, and he remained rested against the wood, the slow intake of breath, and his exhale the only evidence he remained of this living realm. Passively, the youth lifted his hand to tenderly caress a cheek beyond his touch, his digits seeping through flesh he could only assume to be warm. Withdrawing his hand, and gazing at his pristine fingertips, he brought the fist to clench, and struck the platform beneath him.

What was it like not to exist?

One couldn't feel the warmth of another's skin beneath their hand, the gentle brush of breath against their throat as they were embraced in the security of strong arms. One couldn't hear the gentle pulse of a heart-beat, feel it throb against the chest, a rhythmic banter, ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump...

One couldn't taste the clean, fresh air of the beach front, skirt along the sea's grip as the waves tickled the countless soles of feet. They couldn't smell the alluring fragrance of the world around, the seasoned fruit of the summer wind, the bitter salt of the ocean, the musky scent of a friend...

Dropping to settle at Riku's side once more, Roxas' brows knitted with confusion, a countless time for such desperate thoughts to sully his apathy; when had this attachment come? Had it bloomed for the desire of a friend, for a familiar that would accept him, despite his flaws, his differences, his mistakes.. Accept him despite he could not live, would not age, and would never die?

Or had it come from the memories that did not belong to him.. And yet he had embraced them, drawing from the experiences of the past a life for which he longed?

With a gradual brush of action, Roxas dropped his hand to rest atop one of Riku's, fingers curling to grasp the limb, though his digits sank into his skin. For a moment, he did nothing but held the hand of a prior adversary, a yearned friend, a desired company.. The only person to ever grace him with his presence, and yet not realize the fulfillment he gave one individual every night by merely existing.

There came a quiet rustle of cloth as Roxas drew himself near the former force of darkness, leaning into a figure that could not hold him, and he sighed as his brows knitted with frustration... And then dismay.

"I'll tell you... When you can tell me what it's like... Not to have a heart... And yet it hurt so much..."

For though Roxas, told within his being of a nobody, had firmly grasped the truth that he had no heart, yet it truly felt as though his were beating. And at this moment, it was also breaking.