DISCLAIMER
Sometimes Sora wakes in the middle of the night, heart crashing and blood rushing, his muscles tensed, and his spine arched off the bed, every cell in his body screaming AWAKE AWAKE MOVE DO NOT SLEEP. He tumbles off his bed in an adrenaline filled rush, eyes wide and shining and wild.
Because he can hear it. Something, no someone, him but not him, in the darkness, using his voice, calling him, using his voice. Sora, Sora.
But there's no one there in the darkness other than his misguided hopes and hallucinations. So Sora stumbles back into bed, closes his eyes, shuts his ears, and tries to slow the beating of his heart. Then he hears it again, calling him insistently, and it frightens him a little, because it's his voice, he's using his voice, and his ears strain as azure eyes nearly fall out of their sockets in an attempt to find him, find that damned voice.
But once again there's nothing there in the emptiness of his room other than the pile of laundry and scattered papers from a lifetime ago, before skies and destinies. And still the voice is calling him, whispering on the edge of his mind, and then he realizes it and thinks Oh, an epiphany condensed into a single word. From there, everything is easy, after all it's something Sora has done many times before.
All it was, was a question of where, so he could find that right key.
He shuts his eyes and ears off from the world and the door opens.
"That was cruel," he says petulantly to the back of his one, his only, him but not him, his reflection painted from shadows and twilight and blood. His other turns around, blonde hair flying, lips curving in a half smile.
"Did I fool you?" Roxas asks, and outstretches his hand to Sora, who takes it without hesitation. He pulls the Keyblade Master against him, so that their foreheads are almost touching and they're so close that one's exhale mingles with the other's inhale. Sora interlaces their fingers and leans in until he can see the tiny network of veins in Roxas' eyes.
"Yes," Sora says, blue eyes shining, "I wish it was true," he adds simply and sadly, as he grips Roxas' hand tightly. Roxas doesn't smile at that.
"I do too." Then two pairs of blue eyes close simultaneously as lips meet and soon bodies, skin to skin, pushing, pulling, holding so tight until their bones groan in protest, because close is never close enough.
Not when you're in love.
This was inspired by true happenings. I talk in my sleep, and when I do it's really loud and wakes me up. I woke up just last week because I heard someone say "Verdict," but then it turned out to be me. Apparently it's a family thing because my brother does it too. He got up in the middle of the night screaming his head off about hearing some weirdo say cabbage in his room. Haha. Sucker.