He looks off into the distance, seeing nothing, and his flaxen lock wave to the black even though there is no wind.
He waits here, everyday, waiting, waiting,
WAITING.
His azure eyes are golden gleams in the darkness; his being dark.
He didn't come here willingly.
He was trapped here.
And so he stays here in the darkness.
He's visited sometimes by the naïve brunette that trapped him here. The boy so stuck in the thought of a Nobody being a Nobody and that a keyblade wielder has a pure, white, sunshiny heart.
Yet look at them. Opposites.
But when the naïve brunette visits him, his hair stands on end and the darkness is so dark. The naïve boy never notices this.
How could he?
He's not trapped here.
But the fact of the matter is that they are not so different. They are not so opposite. The naïve boy is so dark when he visits, his eyes a darker yellow than the other's.
He looks at the naïve boy and is silent.
The other looks at him with darker eyes and still believes that a keyblade wielder is pure and bright.
But this Nobody knows better. The naïve little boy tries to tell him that this is for the best, that being trapped here is for the best, so that the darkness doesn't spread. And yet the naïve brunette is still out in the world, with two dark hearts.
He's never been bent to the evil dark side, for he is so pure and so goddamn bright.
So the Nobody stays locked within the naïve little boy's heart, the darkness of the brunette slowly eating at him, for he is not as dark as the naïve little boy's own heart.
The brunette often visits him in the darkening darkness, and the naïve boy never notices how black it is.
"Why so quiet?"
He shrugs, gazing into the naïve little boy's yellow eyes and can't find a way to answer the brunette.
"It is always darker when you come and visit me, Sora."
The naïve little boy looks at the Nobody, his eyes darkening, his being so dark, dark, dark.
Roxas' hair is brushed aside by the invisible breeze, and his skin puckers and blues in the nonexistent cold.
Sora spins around, his hair disappearing, then his feet, then ever so slowly up his thighs and down to his forehead… up to his belly button, down to his eyebrows…
Roxas' hair is still standing on end, all over his body, and he notices with little relief that the darkness is becoming ever so lighter, brighter, purer.
Sora's dark jaune eyes flash azure and then back to their darkened state, and his eyes are the only thing that can be seen of the naïve little boy.
"I know."
And Roxas realizes for the first time that Sora has never been the naïve little boy that he always thought he was.