Authors Note: A quick song fic. Because I wanted to see if it was possible for me to make one. Yeah, I don't know how to do a song fic. So I kind of just winged it, and I don't have internet at the moment so I can't check other people's…. So, I tried. It sucks, but I tried. The song is breathe-no-more by Evanescence. I love this song! So I thought it might make a good one…. Here goes absolutely nothing. (ha-ha)

I've been looking in the mirror for so long, that I've come to believe my souls on the other side.

Roxas took another look into his mirror. He was alone in his room, besides the dark haired boy in front of him. The one peering out from behind the cold glass. They both raised their hands, fingers touching beyond the physical bounds of reality. Hands moved away and lips blew out in two very different sighs. The dark haired boy sighed for what was to come, Roxas sighed for the mockery of his psyche watching him sadly from the safety of the mirror. Roxas narrowed his eyes, the boy did the same, but somehow managed to keep the sad, calm look as well. Fists raced towards each other and the sound of breaking glass followed soon after.

All the little pieces falling, shattered, shards of me to sharp to put together. Too small to matter, but big enough to cut me into so many little pieces if I try to touch her.

Roxas stared open mouthed at the mess on the ground before him. The happy-go-lucky boy that had kept him company throughout his imprisonment was gone. Shattered by the tides of his anger. A cry bubbled up in his throat alone, coming out as a broken gasp. Roxas fell to his knees, hands grasping for the bright blue eyes, and chocolate colored hair.

And I bleed, I bleed. And I breathe, I breathe, no more.

Again the glass cut across his palm. Stabbing into quickly moving fingers. They slipped out of bloody hands and went spinning across the linoleum floor. Roxas let out another choked scream, but he couldn't put the pieces back together. They wouldn't stay!

Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirit's well. Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child.

Roxas let the pieces fall slowly to the floor, making sure nothing else broke. Rising quickly to his feet he made his way over to the plain wooden desk pushed up against his blindingly white walls. The drawer pulled out with a small squeak, and Roxas thrust his bleeding hand to the back panel. After he rummaged around for a few seconds his hand finally came in contact with the small bottle hiding behind the random things thrown in the drawer. Roxas pulled out the bottle of super glue and made his way back over to the broken mirror. Most of its surface stained red. But the glue refused to dry, and Roxas was left bleeding and covered in glue.

Lie to me, convince me that I've been sick forever. And all of this will make sense when I get better.

The door flew open and the light was blocked by the intruders. Roxas glanced up, tears in his eyes, and tried to yell at them to fix his broken counterpart. But they just smiled and told him not to worry, pulling him away from the mess on the floor. The dark haired boy was dieing, and they just wanted him to sit back and let them fix his hands! Roxas growled and lunged for the broken glass again. The men pulled him back, no longer smiling or coaxing. The prick of the needle stung, but the pain of losing his friend was in the front of his mind, blinding all else to a dull whisper.

But I know the difference, between myself and my reflection. I just can't help to wonder, which of us do you love.

"Now Roxas, would you like to explain what you were doing with all that broken glass?" The woman with the glasses asked, pacing around his once-again spotless room. The glass was gone, the blood was gone, the boy….was gone. Roxas was once again, alone. Locked behind metal doors. Trapped in white rooms, and force-fed colorful pills. "I broke it." He whispered. You could hear the boredom in the lady's voice when she spoke. "And why did you ruin that perfectly good mirror?" Roxas lifted his head slowly, dull eyes glaring blankly at the woman before him. "Because I was tired of dealing with someone that wanted to help me. He gave me hopes that could never come true." "What kind of hopes?" The woman asked, slightly angered at the suggestion that she wasn't trying to help. "That I would ever get out of this institution."

So I bleed, I bleed. And I breathe, I breathe, no- Bleed, I bleed. And I breathe, I breathe, I breathe…..I breathe…..no….more….

My existence is sad. I have acquired a fear of mirrors and reflective material. I break down and destroy the offending thing, a relapse into darker times. I haven't seen that boy since that day, many years ago. All I see is my own blonde hair, my own blue eyes, and my own scarred hands. He is dead, and unfortunately he took some very important parts of me with him. My sanity.

My Blood.

My Breath.