Roxas told him once to reach out a hand in the darkness.
"Why?"
Just do it, he said simply. It's not like you'll lose anything anyway.
"Okay," he replies, unsure, but trusts Roxas nevertheless. He lifts his hand buried deep inside his blankets and raises it before the darkness, the pale moonlight washing it like the glinting, defiant blade. For a while he let it stay there, suspended in stale air, until Roxas tells him it's okay, you can put it down now. Sora dutifully puts it down back to his side.
"What... what was that for?"
Just wondering if someone's going to take it.
"But there's nobody here, Roxas."
He thought he saw a glint in those blue eyes at the back of his mind. Somewhere he thought he saw a flash of black robe disappearing into darkness and perhaps perhaps oh perhaps if he thought hard enough he's pretty sure he saw something red.
Exactly.
The night has a habit of stealing his thoughts. He didn't sleep well afterwards, and Roxas didn't seem like he wanted to talk. He lay on his bed, staring at the darkness of his ceiling and wondered if green eyes, like blue, can lie so much.
