The art room could have easily been mistaken for a library. Bookshelves lined the walls, obscuring any view of the walls. In the far wall wedged between shelves was a window seat, heavily cushioned with velvet and yellow pillows, matching the purple carpet. Stacked by the window seat were thick canvases, some already halfway covered in masterpieces. Isles were in the center of the room, circling a raised pedestal, all set over a tarp sheet to protect the carpet. A golden chandelier hung over the pedestal and cast perfect shadows on its flat marble surface. One of the shelves held paints and other coloring medians, a rainbow in perfect stock. When Xion peered in that millisecond earlier, she'd seen it as homely and comfortable, like the art room at school. She'd stayed there at lunch to eat and craft, probably her favorite time of the day.

Now Xion slumped against the heavy oak door, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The girl couldn't bring herself to care about art at the moment. Her tears had gathered on the hem of her shirt and turned it a light gray. In any other circumstance, she would've been mocked for it. There was no one to make fun of her here.

Just me and my misery.

The angry headache had morphed into a melancholy bodyache. Her entire being seemed to sting with the pain of betrayal. Crying only made it worse, adding to the nausea and burning sensation. Like every time she cried alone, she wondered if it was better or worse that no one was there to console her or to even care that she was so upset.

Usually, Roxas had found her and stayed with her. She'd tangle her hands into his shirt, buried her head in his chest, sometimes fall asleep on his shoulder, with Roxas's arms around her the whole time. While her parents had patted her head and told her it'd be okay, Roxas had been the only one who ever took the time to actually listen to her. He was the one who heard her out and held her as she cried. Xion ran her fingertips along the skin on her forearm.

He was the one who knew.

"Roxas…" Xion didn't know what to feel. On one hand, the girl wanted to impale him in the neck with a butter knife. On the other, she wanted him to hold her and stroke her back and tell her with absolute certainty that everything would get better. Swirling emotions left her feeling heavy and empty while wanting to explode and spill her guts all over the floor. Dread pulsed through her in reaction to the knock on the door an hour later. Her heart somehow beat faster than its already rapid pace. She gave no answer, hoping whoever it was would leave her alone. If any comfort was welcome, it wasn't from a stranger.

"I know you're in there, Xion."

Axel.

A moment later she heard, "I can see your shadow."

"What do you want?" she could only manage a hoarse mutter.

"There's someone here who wants to apologize."

"I don't want his apology."

There was a shuffle on the other side, "Sorry, Xion. Unfortunately for you, he's not leaving until you talk to him."

"Go away."

"C'mon," he sounded tired, "At least hear him out."

The ravenette lugged herself up, absently rubbing the back of her hand across her face in a vain attempt to clean her tears. She almost wanted a mirror. Then, she opened the door and immediately regretted it. Seeing Roxas only made her crave his touch even more. It was difficult to refrain from running to him, or kicking him in the groin.

Roxas appeared no better than Xion. The spikes on his head were in disarray. His clothes were wrinkled everywhere. Xion was taken aback by the daze in his eyes, as if he were dizzy and couldn't find balance. Roxas never took them off of her. Although Xion knew her face was just as red, she also knew how cold it must have looked, for Roxas looked like Axel, trying to find an emotion. The girl said nothing and waited. Axel had crossed his arms behind them, looking on with a stern face.

Xion blinked at him, "Why did you bring him here?"

Axel's gaze drifted lazily to the side. He responded in an indifferent voice, saying, "You two are close. Friendship like that is treasured around here." his breath caught, "Sometimes it disappears sooner than we'd like."

"Was your best friend killed by a demon?" Roxas couldn't stop himself from asking.

"No. No, he…"

Like he did before, Axel left the room. Xion stared at the open doors for a moment before averting her attention on Roxas. The doors swung slowly closed and the sound of the latch catching was the only noise for what seemed like eons. They stared at each other for a while. One was trying to think of what to say. The other pondered if she should care what the other had to say. Xion lowered her eyes, attempting to scope the folds in Roxas's shirt and ignore the feeling of his eyes on her. She imagined drawing them, the shadows and hues, like she had so many times before. More than once she'd gotten Roxas to pose for her. Sometimes, when Roxas dozed off on her lap, if her notepad was handy, she'd sketch his face. It was the opposite of what it was now. He was relaxed, slightly smiling, like an angel. Angels didn't drool, but she never minded.

Xion sighed, not angry or sad, just drained, "What else do you know?"

"What?"

"You didn't look the least bit afraid of DiZ."

"I'm not a coward, Xion!" he sounded like a child, "I can protect myself."

"No, you knew him. You've met before. I could tell."

Roxas swallowed, "Xion, please, let me explain. You're all I have left and I don't want to lose you."

She let out a sad laugh, "How can I know that..? You probably wanted me to die in that fire."

"Xion!" he said angrily, "How could you possibly believe that?"

That brought her head up.

Roxas continued in a tone so firm it made Xion wonder if this was the first time he'd stood up to her. Sure, they'd fought as kids all the time. But he never talked like this. It was as if every other argument was petty and didn't matter. This one obviously meant a lot to him for him to yell at her, "I lied. I lied a lot. That doesn't mean I don't care about you! Look, I know all about the Shadow world.

"It's true, I have the Sight. When I came to Mom and Dad about it, they told me everything, what they did, and why we were hiding, why we'd never be a part of that. It's a life of murder and survival, Xion. They didn't want that for us." his hands were shaking, "They brought me to this Institution once, me and my twin brother, Ventus."

"You have a brother." she breathed.

"I don't even know. Mom and Dad showed us to DiZ, and gave us a choice. Ven chose to fight, while I refused. Then you showed up and I didn't want to leave you alone. I said no. But, there's a rule, about Shadowhunters that go into hiding, they… they don't get to have any involvement in the Shadow world. We never saw Ven again, ever. I don't know where he is, what he's doing, if he's alive…"

Xion murmured, "How come I never met him?"

"He left before we adopted you," he exhaled sharply, "Your parents didn't die in an accident, by the way. They were on the list of casualties from a vampire-raid. The Wolfstrifes were always close to your family, the Moongates. We took you in when your parents died."

If she'd been anyone else, Xion would have buckled and fell to her knees. Instead she absorbed this with a perpetual stare. Xion had never called Aerith "Mom" or Cloud "Dad", but she didn't feel attached to her actual parents either. Though her memories of them were few, she didn't ever remember being happy. It was just a collection of faces and smells, all of which had no value to her. Being too young to know how to fight demons, they'd never mentioned Shadowhunters to her. Her childhood visions of the supernatural were seen as games. It was only when she grew older and lived with Roxas that she realized she wasn't imagining. Looking back, Xion hypothesized the theory that her parents would have tried to keep her from the Shadow world if they were here.

Roxas pressed on, "I wanted to tell you so bad! They said you were stronger than me and could handle it all. The visions, the instincts, the dreams, the drawings… Then you started cutting, and you didn't want me to tell them because you didn't want to worry them, and…" Roxas wiped away the tears on his cheeks, and gasped, "Oh, God."

Xion felt her own eyes burn, "You were protecting me."

"Xion, I'm so sorry!" he cried.

"You didn't have a choice!"

"I could have told you! I-I…"

Only a few feet away, Xion rushed to Roxas and clung to him. Her nails clawed his back as she pulled him impossibly closer and wept into his chest. He didn't hesitate to grab her and crush her into him. As they were the same height, they rested their heads on each other's shoulders. Roxas grasped her tight enough to constrict her breath, but she didn't care. She held him just as hard. Into the nape of his neck Xion sobbed aloud. Roxas made no sound, but shook with her and refused to let go.

Axel rested against the wall outside the art room. He listened to the not-siblings weep. The boy of the pair sounded different than the girl, he heard. Roxas only sniffed while Xion full-out shrieked. It sounded muffled for some reason. Axel made to check on them and was stopped by movement in his peripheral. There was blue hair and a grimace approaching. Saïx huffed at him, coming to a stop before the redhead.

"Yes, handsome?" Axel smiled.

"What are you, their couples' counselor?"

"Maybe I care about people. You should try it sometime."

"Oh, please," Saïx smirked evilly, "You don't care about them. You'd just feel bad because you'd be letting what happened to us happen to them."

Axel blanched, "Saïx…"

"Don't bother. We both know you will never go down that road again."

"We could try."

"And what about Reno?"

He flinched, his brow wrinkled. Saïx had that smile again. The man walked off, a smug air of "I knew it" excreting from him. Axel stared morosely after his vanishing figure. It was then that a pang went through his chest. His heart skipped a beat.

Then he ran.

A shaky finger pressed the up-arrow twice on accident in the lift. Swearing, it was too long before Axel reached his room. Red pictures blinded him, pulling him to his knees. By sheer will he managed to open the door and enter his navy room. Axel crumbled onto his bed like a stale pastry. Hurriedly he sketched a Fearless rune over the last one on his chest, right over his heart.

He recalled his first rune-lesson: the closer to the heart, the more powerful. Whether or not it was true was unproven, but Axel believed it mainly so he'd believe it would work faster. Even if it didn't, his traumatic state made him draw five more, lacing the bare skin of his upper body. Thankfully, the images became less effective, and soon left his mind altogether.

Unyielding valor surged through him, enticed by the Fearless runes. Axel felt like he could do anything. There was no more doubt and no more phobia of his past. While it was useful in certain situations, it was also extremely dangerous. Death was no longer terrifying. It almost seemed like an option. He thought of Saïx, unconsciously reaching for the special I-shaped rune on his shoulder, the Voyance rune on his right hand gleaming back at him. Sure, he was Fearless, but the rune didn't provide much stamina. Ever so slowly, Axel's eyes fluttered shut.

Inside his head ran demons, roaring and clawing and demolishing everything he ever loved. Exteriorly, nothing appeared unordinary. The sun, high in the sky, glowed, undisturbed. Cars, pedestrians and birds' springtime songs brought a symphony through the window. Everything was okay. Axel held on to the idea, however bleak, and drifted off. He never saw the Shadow move from the corner of his bedroom. He didn't see the claws scratching the floor, and he certainly didn't see it exit his room and scramble down the hallway, hissing like a dilapidating balloon along its way.