"Drip"
Roxas licked his blue, salty popsicle with a numb tongue. His deep blue eyes absently gazed into the distance.
Who was he?
He had thought he knew.
Why did he leave?
Well, that hardly mattered anymore.
His friend would come to kill him soon.
In his hand, the popsicle coolly, silently awaited its last drips of life like he awaited his.
The clock above him struck. Roxas doubled over. His ears rang with the reverberations of a two-ton gong. The blue stick of salty sweetened ice chilled his stomach as each bang shook away a memory.
Clang.
His mind went numb.
Clang.
His stomach went numb.
Clang.
Who was he?
Then...
...silence.
It was heavy.
The blankets were heavy.
He pushed them off and blinked open his deep blue eyes.
The bedroom air chilled him. He took in a slow breath and let the air numb his lungs. The scent in the air was of salt.
The sun streamed through the window. Ventus stretched and climbed out of bed.