Why did he stay? For what purpose did he let his pulse race? His fingers slide through blonde locks? All those lustful kisses; the demons and darkness in his frail heart were kept at bay, by something darker than they... Surely this was not why Sora let the inner workings of his mind drown in serotonin each day, each night; each waking moment. And yet, I, as an outside observer cannot provide you, another such as I, a concise and reasonable answer to the affiliation of the keyblade bearer with the gray that was mixed as Roxas.
Perhaps it was in the way that they each knew what we outsiders did not -will never - know. As I think of it now, all I can help others understand about this couple, this partnership; this love; is what little I have observed of the innate inner workings... Past those eyes of distance, glory, loneliness and togetherness.
I think it's safe to assume that you've never seen how they look at each other; after all, you've just begun this quest of understanding. So I shall explain. Sora's eyes are easy enough to comprehend, almost as plain to the naked eye as is puppy love. But Roxas... Roxas, Roxas, Roxas... His eyes burn as if he doesn't understand anything and everything at the same moment, and his eyes - those big blue eyes tinted red with an incomprehensible lust - seem to swallow Sora. I think Sora loves these caresses more then the soft touch of the blonde's lips, these fiery pinpricks burning on his skin every moment, without fail; without consequence.
This must be why Sora has let that white, beating mass of life become a mess of sanguine cardiac muscle. To feel those eyes skim him all the time, to feel appreciated for once in his life as a person, to be accepted as there and not an upcoming prophesy to be fulfilled... He was never loved before. And I think Roxas knows this - or perhaps it only registers as a fleeting thought of the mind - and willing gave up his tarnished gray for a cleaner ashen; and Sora, his white for a gritty earth.
All so that both could feel a beat of excitement, thrill, guilt, sorrow in their veins; to accumulate overwhelmed minds...
They are the perfect match. Wishing for the same things, but alone, unable to provide little to dampen the fire. It's why Sora gave up the pure, the innocent, the naive; to stare into those eyes that he would never comprehend but should.
For this I weep and laugh. I hope you; an outsider like me can carry on, as I soon will get lost in this most pleasant hell. Warn the others on your quest for this, so that they too will get drawn into this delicious evil. Do not become another Riku, my fiery red haired friend. No matter how much the guilt consumes you. For it will never do you any good to become another me in the annals of history.
