I do not own Kingdom Hearts. If I did, the story would have a few twists that the original writers neglected to put in.
A/N: My first submission to in years. This is a story inspired by a good friend, who would kill me if I mentioned her name online so I'll leave her nameless. Much thanks for her for her support! I hope you enjoy your stay::bows::
Roxas in the White Room
Roxas wiped the sweat off his brow. Killing white monster things was harder then it looked. He glanced around the large open foyer of the desolate mansion. He hadn't seen a living thing since he had been ambushed when he first entered the mansion. He didn't want to consider the white monster things living, and they were pixilated dust now anyways so it didn't matter much.
He headed to the left, wondering if he would find the room the girl, (Naminé), had been. The wonder that turned out to be shifting white curtains was as real as anything in this place. Roxas fought the sudden doubt in his mind.
Maybe I'm going crazy after all. Everything had started going downhill nearly a week ago, why couldn't everything just go back to normal.
He rushed up the steps and yet another pair of white monsters appeared out of thin air.
"Why won't you just leave me alone?" he hissed under his breath before charging. At least now he knew that playing struggle wasn't a total waste of time.
Roxas jumped onto the top step, the wood under his feet creaking ominously. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea running into a mansion that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. The wood held and he slashed the air in front of him. The keyblade flashed in the broken light and another white monster was reduced to pixels in front of his eyes.
A sharp stab of pain in the middle of his back reminded him that there had been two Nobodies this time.
Turning around he fell back and nearly fell down the stairs before catching himself. A white face hovered right in front of him.
The bastard is walking on the ceiling! Roxas sliced the air in front of him and after a moment the white Nobody was gone in a puff of smoky pixels.
Leaning hard against the wall, he gasped and pulled air into his lungs. This wasn't fun anymore, not that it had been from the beginning.
He glanced at the keyblade in his hand and without thinking dropped it only to have it appear in his hand before it hit the floor. Maybe I'm cursed.
Pushing off the wall, leaving a rather impressive red spot on the decaying wallpaper, Roxas walked toward the door that would lead him to the room with white curtains.
With a final glance around, he gripped his keyblade tighter and pushed the door open, weapon held high, just in case something sinister got it into their heads to jump out at him.
Instead of a sinister death trap, the room was completely white. Lowering the keyblade it vanished from his hand, just as suddenly as it always appeared when danger was about.
The room was safe. As safe as a room in the Haunted Mansion could be.
Roxas took a tentative step inside and slowly made his way towards the pale light filtering through the thick curtains. Pushing them to one side, he allowed the twilight into the room. The gloom was lifted and the pure white seemed to glow in the growing dusk.
Wow. His thoughts took a hold of him as he walked to the nearest white wall, covered in simplistic crayon drawings. Studying the pictures he noticed that they mostly were about the same dark haired person that he had seen in his dreams so often of late. Maybe there really was a connection between him and this place. He had seen that girl, (Naminé), in the window the last time he had been here. Maybe she had something to do with it as well. She was a part of the pixels, monsters, men in black cloaks claiming to be his friends.
Roxas walked around the room, glancing at the pictures, not trying to make sense of the strange illustrations. As he had come full circle back to the place he had started from, he looked back at the door leading onto the landing.
Maybe I can stay here for a little while longer. The room had a soothing aura and he was loath to leave it so soon after finding a haven of peaceful thoughts in the confusion that surrounded his mind.
He walked back to the window, trying to guess what time it was. He didn't want to be stuck here when it got dark. Just as he was about to pass the white marble table his boot got caught on something and he stumbled, nearly falling face first onto the white carpet.
"Itte!" he gasped, holding his injured foot and trying to see the offending object that had caused the pain.
A book was peeking from under the table. He kneeled down and pulled the sketchbook from its hiding place.
Roxas flipped to the first page and saw another crayon drawing of the brown haired boy, but this time he saw something that startled him. The dark haired boy was holding hands with someone who looked very much like him, messy light hair and blue eyes stared at him from the simple scribble.
"That could be me," he mumbled as he flipped to the next page. The picture changed, the boy likeness of him was gone and in its place was a silver-haired boy with a red scarf tied across his eyes.
"What's with that, who would blind themselves intentionally?" his quiet question was answered with silence.
He flipped the page again, but this time he was answered with a blank page. Maybe the artist had gotten tired and stopped here. Roxas took the book and lay it on the table, flopping down on the chair which gave a slight groan startling him. He nearly jumped back up as it gave another painful moan, but the chair held.
Pulling the book onto his lap he flipped through the empty pages towards the end. Near the middle the pictures started again. A small frown pulled his brows together as he flipped back towards the start of the new set of pictures.
This set had been drawn with a pencil. Gone were the childish bold strokes, and here was fine lines and detail.
Again it was the dark haired boy. It really was the guy from his dream. Something was odd with this whole situation, he was certain that he had never seen the boy before, he seemed a little younger then Roxas was. No worry creased his features as he slept. He looked peaceful.
Next picture took him to see the long haired youth, not colored in Roxas could only assume it was the same silver haired boy that was in the picture at the beginning of the sketchbook. The boy had a his eyes blindfolded, but even in his unseeing form, he looked sad and depressed standing next to something big and oval. The closest thing to it seemed to look like was a huge egg on a pedestal, but who would in their right mind do something like that? Putting an egg on a pedestal and then looking depressed about it.
Roxas flipped the page and the same long haired youth stared up at him with blindfolded eyes, this time slumped down against the egg, looking even more depressed then in the last picture.
I guess the egg is important. Something about the picture didn't seem right, but Roxas couldn't place the feeling so he flipped to the next page.
Now he knew what had been wrong, the youth had been flushed. In a big black coat, a shimmer of sweat on his brow, dripping down his neck as he…
Roxas slammed the book shut. Why would someone draw a picture about that!? Roxas held the book close to his chest, feeling the burn on his cheeks intensify as he thought of someone watching, without the youth knowing and drawing in secret. The details were so precise, how close had the observer been? How long did it take someone to draw a real looking sketch anyways?
He held his breath for a moment, hoping that the angry flush that had spread up to his ears would die down. Gulping, his hands shook as he placed the book back onto the table.
Pulling his legs up onto the chair, he hugged them as he watched the offending sketchbook as if it would suddenly burst open and reveal all its vile secrets.
Roxas sat and watched the window, the sun slowly dipping through the trees and leaving the room in pale light of the few lamps that still burned, even after everything else seemed on the verge of crumbling into dust with the merest touch.
It didn't take him long after that to glance back at the sketchbook he had been pointedly ignoring, getting his courage up (after checking that the room really was empty) and taking the book in hand once again. He flipped to the middle of the pages and looked at the sleeping boy in the picture. It didn't take him long to flip to the next page.
"I was waiting for you downstairs, but since you didn't show up I," Axel trailed off as he circled the table and saw Roxas clutching a notebook, face flushed crimson.
"Get away!" Roxas squeaked and turned his back to the redhead while shooing him off with his hand. Why did these people have to puff out of darkness in a room instead of using a door like normal people!? He never let go of the book as Axel stalked toward him a funny look on his face.
"You found out about Naminé's hobby then?" he asked, staying a few feet away from the blond crouching on the floor.
"Aren't you supposed to say something about getting me to return and then go all evil and try to kill me when I say I don't remember anything?" Roxas asked as he turned to face the man, holding the book like a shield.
"Maybe later," Axel replied and tilted his head, "But first let's deal with that little problem of yours." He smirked and crossed the space between them before Roxas had a chance to react.
A moment later, Naminé pushed the door open a crack. She had heard some strange noises coming from the white room. Her lips curved into a small wicked smile as she pulled out a sketchbook and a number 2 pencil.