WARNING: Unsettling imagery at the start of both days due to dream sequences.


Cracks reveal Truths and Secrets: Part One

Have you ever been sick? Really sick? Sick enough to throw up five times in a row yet you still have the audacity to ask for water, to fill up your sensitive stomach because your throat is a living, breathing desert?

Yeah . . . and then there are some who get the chills. Always cold, always unstable no matter how many blankets you pile on top of that person. Inside they're a freezing mess and you can't do anything except watch them sniffle, watch the color drain from their skin and then get angry enough to have a shouting match with whoever will hear you from up above.

It's not fair. This isn't right. You want to say that, but the situation is out of your hands. The despair you feel won't go away, and you have to learn to accept it.

That's . . . sort of what I had to do, except a few key differences. One, it was all my fault. I couldn't blame anyone but myself, and when you learn to view yourself under those lens, to acknowledge that you are the problem . . . it changes things. Second, because it was my fault I had to assume everything that was happening to me was fair. It was just.

. . . BS. Nothing was fair, nothing was right. Yet, why had I been so surprised? Why did seeing my brother's cruel side bother me so much? Had he really done such a good job hiding that part of himself from me that I couldn't recognize his rage? How could I miss this part of him, how could I have been so blind?

Oh . . . right . . . it's because the world isn't fair. It's because justice is a myth. And most importantly it was because I had screwed up everything. I was damned from that point onwards, I just didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't realize that I wasn't done tearing apart my brother's soul, there was still so much I could fuck up.

Yeah . . . enough of me beating up this dead hearse. Let's just skip to the beginning of the next day.


Day 1

Yes, I'll start by labeling the days because, to be honest, this was the only way I was able to track time. As far as school is concerned I will say this. Despite the crap shoved down our throats day by day, at least we have structure. At least we have a sense of time, a sense of being.

It's funny cause, honestly, despite how much I hate school, I sure damn missed the place when I was too messed up in the head to leave the house. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The first day was by far the easiest because I somehow made it to school, which was a miracle in and of itself.

Think I'm being dramatic? Well, let me just start from the beginning so that you can get some perspective.

I'll begin with the dream cause that's the first thing popping in my head now. Like I said before, my writing time is precious so it's not like I can go over every little detail, but I think this memory is important enough to hold onto. People always underestimate the power of dreams. Maybe it's because most people don't remember them or something. But hell, the day I forget these images is the day hell freezes over.

Hmmm, how to word this. Well . . . when I opened my eyes I was blinded by a bright, fluorescent light. You know, the irritating UV kind that can blind people when you flash those mini lasers into people's eyes. Yeah, think bigger though. Like the size of a plate or something. Right in my face. I felt my skin heat up around my cheeks and I closed my eyes, trying to shield them from the burning annoyance above.

Yeah, it didn't work. It was like my eyelids were flimsy sheets of paper. The light fully burned through my skin, a bright orange with the protection of my eyelids (or as much as it was giving me, which was barely enough to keep my eyes from melting in their sockets). I squirmed, trying to move my hands to shield my face further, but they barely moved an inch before being stopped by metal bands keeping them strapped to the table underneath me. I almost missed the seeping cold tickling my back. A foil to the burning light, my legs, lower back and shoulders were freezing.

I opened my mouth to speak but the more I tried to push air out of my mouth the more nonsense came out. It wasn't English, just these eerie moans that startled me so much I closed my mouth. Where am I? What's happening to me? Can't someone turn the freaking light off?!

My scrambled thoughts were answered when the light moved away from my face. Relieved, I opened them only to stare straight into the eyes of . . . "Snow?"

He smiled at me. Eyes cerulean blue, the color of ocean filled pearls. I know, exaggeration is unfitting of me, but his eyes were literally sparkling. In that moment I had no doubt that they were two of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my entire life. With his eyes came memories, memories of who he was.

Doctor. He helps me and the other kids at the shelter. I frowned. But this isn't right. I've already been adopted. What am I doing back at the shelter? What am I doing with him?

"You look confused, boy." Snow gave me a cheeky grin while putting on white gloves. They snapped against his fingers, making me wince. "Don't worry. We'll have you fixed in no time."

"What do you mean?" The suspicion in my voice was telling. I didn't trust him one bit, even if he had gorgeous eyes. Clear, clean eyes. Normal eyes. No . . . not normal. His eyes . . . his eyes are perfect.

Snow gave me a knowing look, as if he could read my thoughts. "They've given you a lot of pain, huh?" His cold, gloved finger traced my right eye and I winced back. "They're definitely healthy. You have perfect vision." He frowned. "But they're not natural. They're the wrong color."

I swallowed. It was starting to hurt, staring into his perfect eyes. So I focused on his mouth instead. "Yellow . . .yellow is the color of the sun. It's a nice color, a good color." Defend. Keep defending yourself. "They're different, but not bad. I'm not an evil person."

Snow gave me a sad smile, shaking his head as if I didn't understand what I was saying. "But they bring you pain. What does it matter what others say if you can't look at yourself in the mirror?" His hands moved swiftly to the side and when he brought them back there were two knives and a small looking device that I couldn't recognize. "But I can fix you. I can fix your mistake."

"No . . . I don't want to be fixed." I tried to speak louder as he brought the tools close to my face but my voice was getting quieter and quieter. My body shook, but I couldn't move thanks to the restraints.

He gripped my hair, keeping my head still. The knife was positioned right above my eye, all I could see was a grey dot obscuring my vision. His voice barely reached my ears. It was kind, reassuring. "I can fix you. I can fix the mistake your parents gave you."

His voice disappeared, blocked by the sound of a miniscule drill. I screamed as he shoved the knife into my eye. The pain flared throughout my entire face, shooting up when he started using the drill, or whatever that small thing was, outlining my eye. I felt my skin get ripped as the tool sliced into my eyebrow. "Whoa there, missed a spot." That was the last thing I heard from him as he kept up his work.

For some reason I couldn't close my other eye, but it didn't matter. I couldn't see out of it anyway, the film of tears spilled out and sent Snow's image swimming in a sea of light and chaos. I screamed and screamed until my throat started protesting, burning with the sounds shooting out of my mouth.

So. Much. Pain. I could withstand pain, I thought I had experienced pain. But not pain like this, not a drill churning my eye into a mess of fluid. When he stopped I felt my body collapse against the table, cool metal a reprieve from the warm, hot blood running down the side of my face. I moaned heavily, wincing as the movement aggravated my wounds. His hands were in my hair now, a small gesture of comfort in the storm. "Shhh, just one more eye to fix."

I grunted, another incomprehensible moan. I didn't have enough energy to do anything else. Eventually, his hands stopped at my hair and he tilted my face back into position. He brought a mirror to my face and my one yellow eye widened. I was expecting a gory hole, a black pit of emptiness. Instead, in place of my yellow right eye was a sparkling, blue beauty. I would have gasped, but I was lucky enough to breathe. All I could do was open my mouth in astonishment.

"Now, isn't that a wonderful sight." Snow grinned. "What do you think?"

My one yellow eye was still full with tears, but no longer painful tears. Something else. I felt a slow, unnatural smile fill up my face. "It's . . . amazing." My voice was so hoarse. Like a dying frog. Perfect. Just like his. Just like everyone else's. It's . . . it's . . .

"Ready to fix the next one?"

I blinked once, or rather, my yellow eye did. The blue one didn't react at all. I frowned. "I . . . I . . . " I swallowed a pit of saliva, grunting as it went down. I tried again. "I . . . can't see."

"What's that?" He was already bringing the other tools up to my face. Instead of dripping with blood, as I had thought, they were dripping with a sparkling blue substance. A drop landed on my cheek, instantly burning through my skin.

I coughed, feeling something wet spill past my lip. "I can't . . . see through the blue one." I wasn't surprised or startled to see the blood dripping down my chin from my mouth. Why . . . do I feel so broken inside when my eye looks so perfect? So right. What's happening to me? "I can't see through it."

"But isn't it better? Isn't it what you always wanted?" He smiled proudly at me. "I make it a habit to rescue people. And I've just rescued you from your never-ending nightmare. Just say the word and I'll fix this one up here just like that one."

"I won't be able to see." I coughed up more blood. My heart started beating rapidly as the knife barely touched my eyelid. "I won't be able to see," I repeated, it was all I could say.

"But you'll be cured. You'll be free, Vanitas."

"Dad . . . Mom . . . I won't be able to see . . . "

He chuckled. "You'll see. Everything will be so much better, Vanitas. Just change this part of yourself and everything will be okay."

I swallowed, yellow eye wavering between the blue eye in the image and the knife above me. My heart continued to beat faster and my body tensed as I opened my lips. Even if I can't see . . . blue is such a pretty color. Much better than yellow. Much, much better. After hacking another mouthful of blood, I stared squarely into his eyes and nodded. "Do it. Fix me, please."

The moment the knife connected with my left eye my body shook violently. My heart stopped briefly and the blood filled up my mouth so much that I started gagging on it. Before I could drown in it completely, before I lost my vision I felt something sharp strike my chest. I shouted once and sat up, rubbing my eyes vigorously.

Roxas' hand was pressed against my stomach. I could feel the cold, feel the unnatural force. I winced when he moved his hand to my fingers, revealing my eyes in the open. I stared into his blue eyes, normal blue eyes, and I fought hard to resist the urge not to throw up in his face. I bit into my bottom lip, not looking away even though I wanted to. Hell, his eyes alone carried the nightmare for me.

He blinked once, opening his mouth as he were about to say something. He hesitated for a moment, then his eyes hardened and he brought his camera up, taking the picture right in front of me. The flash nearly blinded me, but I didn't blink, didn't move an inch until he was off the bed, until his blue eyes left my face. His tone was neutral when he said, "School starts in an hour."

I jumped out of bed immediately, running as fast as I could out of the door, slamming it shut. I leaned against it, staring into space. Out of the twenty dreams (give or take a few) that had terrorized my first night of torture, that last one . . . that last one . . .

God, it struck home. I felt the tears drip down my face and I groaned, rubbing my eyes. I stood there, waiting for the evidence to disappear. I had survived three years of high school without shedding a tear in front of my fellow peers. I couldn't let go of my pride that day, no matter how idiotic the motion was. I was so quiet, I don't think Roxas knew I was standing there. I barely heard his voice, a soft, thoughtful baritone that revealed nothing but confusion.

"I don't get it." His voice floated through the cracks under my door. "His eyes . . . they're so beautiful."

I shook my head and ran down the stairs.


I didn't bother paying attention in school. Or at least, not to the academics. Instead, I found myself staring into other people's eyes. Whenever I caught eyes with someone they would either stare at me with a quizzical look or flinch back. I guess I can't blame them. I had spent years ignoring people, either looking above their head or away from their face, never directly at them. I told myself that they were reacting that way out of shock, not because of the yellow.

Lying. Lie to yourself and you've got a problem. As always, I was too late to late to catch the signs.

I continued my obsessive venture with everyone's eyes, almost skimming by when I finally found an unnatural color. Or well, less natural than most. Namine's grey eyes barely stayed on mine before she turned back to her desk. It was so fast and sudden, if I hadn't been so focused on the color I would have missed that it was hers. I blinked and continued staring at her as she lifted the top of her desk up. Inside were rows upon rows of cigarettes. She took one out, closed it a little loudly, then lit it quickly.

It would have seemed normal if she wasn't sitting in a classroom loaded to the brim with students. Even the teacher was looking in her direction. Yet, no one stared longer than normal. Namine was blowing smoke into the air when the teacher looked away from her, staring at me instead. "Vanitas, do you know the answer to this equation?"

I didn't even look in the teacher's direction. I just stared at Namine, waiting for someone to address the obvious. The girl was freakin smoking a stick in an open classroom in front of prying eyes! Namine was staring at me now, eyes somewhat desperate. Her usual smile was gone, replaced by a terror filled frown. The teacher continued to call my name, gave up after a few seconds and turned to someone else. Namine blinked at me once then turned away from me, continuing to smoke.

I sat back in my desk, not knowing whether I should be surprised or not. When the bell rang I followed a few feet behind her. It was a strange day, first I look students in the face, now I follow the girl I hate more than my current asshole of a life. Yet, her expression made me curious. It was only the second day for her. If one day could change her poker face to whatever that was earlier . . . I had to see for myself. Plus, I was bored of staring at other people's eyes.

When I reached her studio I had to close my mouth to keep from spitting in shock. She had a stack of paintings in this large, oval bowl. Flames flew from the center of the container, melting the flames together. My eyes zeroed on her petite form, watched her shaking hands throw another painting into the fire. For a reason that still isn't clear to me now, I couldn't handle it anymore. I tackled her to the ground, pinning her there easily. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I screamed into her face.

She started shaking and crying. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"That pathetic piece of crap you just threw in there won the visual arts competition last year!" I slapped her in the face. "Are you insane or something?"

"None of it matters! Nothing ever mattered!"

Tell me. I need to understand what's happening to you. "Why?" I pressed. "Why does nothing matter?"

Namine's eyes flashed and her lips trembled. "She's gone . . . she's been gone for so long . . . "

"She?"

Namine moaned, turning her head, staring at the flames. "K-Kairi . . . all of it is her . . . she's gone . . . I failed her." Tears escape from her eyes as she keeps staring into the flames. "Couldn't protect her . . . I don't deserve to paint her."

"Who the hell is Kairi?"

Namine slowly turned her head back toward me and the look of pure hatred chilled me to the bone. "You mean you never saw it?!" I had obviously offended her, but I was too scared to ask what I had done. Her dull, grey eyes were alive and pulsing with a blaze that I had never seen on her face before. This was life, this is what had been deprived of her the whole time I knew of her existence. Even with Roxas, I had never seen her eyes light up like this.

I backed away from her as she sat up, still staring me down, like her gaze alone could pierce my heart. "SHE IS IN EVERYTHING!" She started throwing paintings at me and I flinched, bringing my hands up. "Open your stupid eyes and look at them, dammit!" She was crying now and still throwing paintings at me. After a few minutes the frames started hitting the floor in front of me instead of my legs. I heard her fall to the floor and when I lowered my arms she had her head in her hands, crying.

Slowly, I picked up a painting, staring at it. After seconds of staring, I squinted and my mind was blown. The hideous, monstrosity in front of me was a portrait in disguise. Subtle, hidden, but there. I saw a girl practically identical to the broken psychopath in front of me. But this girl's hair was darker, and her eyes . . . they were softer. Warmer. Kind. "This is Kairi," I said, more for myself then for Namine's benefit.

I looked down at another painting, finding another hidden face in half of the grotesque fight between a bear and a lion. Did Roxas always see this? Did he know? I found myself looking into every painting around me. It was so overwhelming, seeing this happy, dark-haired girl with so much life, so much heart in the mask of paintings depicting such horrid acts, such violence. I jumped when Namine started picking up the paintings around me. I had been so enamored that I had missed her.

Her eyes were cold, but the hatred was gone. Her face was full of bitterness and still mauled by tears. "Leave."

"N-Namine, I'm . . . I saw her." It was the closest I was going to get to an apology. After all this time at looking down at her art, I couldn't deny the mastery involved to create such contrasting moods, contrasting pieces of a person in one picture. "I saw her."

I briefly saw pride register in Namine's face before the bitterness returned. She clutched her paintings tighter. "Leave now."

As I turned away, stepping out of the doorway of her studio, I heard the sound of wood cracking as she dropped another set of paintings into her own fire. I closed my eyes and rubbed the space above my heart. When I got home I didn't speak at all to my parents. When my Mom wasn't looking I threw my food away and volunteered to take out the trash. Just the thought of putting anything in my mouth made me sicker than the thought of losing my eyes.

When I opened the door to my room I found Roxas standing across from my bed. He had a row of pictures spread out in front of him. All of them were of me, in half delirious half alert states upon waking from my recent nightmares. He didn't even look in my direction, but his voice was curious when he said, "How was school?"

I walked closer, staring at the one he took of me that morning. I rubbed my eyelids, frowning. I then turned my head towards him, almost flinching to find him staring back at me, blue eyes sharp and expectant. I swallowed my unease then fully turned towards him. "You were right. Namine's paintings are . . . impressive."

His lips twitched into a smile briefly but it was gone so fast I attributed it to my imagination. "You saw Kairi," he said, knowingly. He started pushing me back toward the bed.

My body tensed immediately at the promise of more mental torture. Before I could get completely settled into the bed I got one question out. "Who is Kairi?"

"She was Namine's younger sister." Roxas tilted his head as he pulled the covers over me. "Or at least that's what Namine says. From how similar they look I figured they would be twins. But Namine always referred to her as someone younger." Roxas smiled again, a smile fit for someone who was in on a joke. "Namine was very protective of her."

I shivered as I thought of the outrage in Namine's eyes when I had missed what had been obvious to her, when she threw the evidence at my face. "I bet," I muttered before Roxas' hands covered my eyes, silencing me.


Day 2

Forgive me, but it's harder for me to remember this day. Guess my memory will only get worse once we reach day three. Well, we ain't there yet. I'll worry about it when we get there.

I'm going to be really brief with this dream sequence. It was pretty brutal from the start, but the ending was just unthinkable. I swear, Roxas wasn't pulling from my childhood memories with this one, he was just being a dick.

Let's just start with Namine. She had me pinned to the ground, similar to the way I had pinned her at school before. Her eyes were burning with the same rage as the day before. I tried to move away, but I couldn't move an inch when she assaulted me with her lips, kissing me deeply. Literally, the most disgusting thing I had ever experienced was happening in the worse way possible. I felt something enter my mouth and I immediately started coughing and gagging the moment she pulled away. Her body started breaking over me, skin molting into a grey, smelly dust. Cigarette ashes?

I opened my mouth to scream as the stuff coated my body. Instead of a scream, cigarettes fell out of my mouth like a waterfall. I coughed even more, fighting to get the stuff out of my mouth but more kept filling up in my mouth, replacing the ones that I upchucked. The ashes spread against my tongue and my eyes watered from the foul smell and taste. Like dried grains of sand and sulfur. Crap, end it now! I want this to end now!

Just when I thought I had died a million times smoke filled the air. I turned my head in time to see a line of fire following a trail of ash. I had a few seconds to widen my eyes before the blaze reached me and my body burst into flames of agony, pain, and grossness. Yes, grossness. The ash tasted worse while I was being roasted.

The second I woke up I turned to the left and threw up whatever was in my stomach into a bucket placed beside my bed (after the tenth dream that night I had taken to either vomiting or dry heaving so Roxas placed it there for me). I coughed and continued heaving even when there was nothing left to heave. Then, I slowly sat up, pointing a shaking figure at him. "You fuckin bastard!"

"Huh?" Roxas blinked in my direction, three photos in his hands. "Oh, you're awake."

"Shut the hell up." I vigorously rubbed my hair. "I thought we were going to leave your creepy girlfriend out of this."

"You asked about her." There was a sarcastic edge to his voice and the smirk I saw on his face was pure mischief.

"You think I want to suck face with your bitch?"

Roxas' grin grew. "It's a match made in heaven, don't you think? After all, you got her to reveal Kairi in two days. It took me two months."

"Are you shitting with me right now? I am not interested in that freak!" I threw the bucket of vomit at him. To my displeasure it passed through him and smacked the wall, splattering the floor with grime.

Roxas started laughing. I was about to start a new barrage of insults but something stopped me. Sluggishly, things fell into place in my half-delirious brain. Though the dream had been hell, in a sense . . . it had been a prank of sorts. A cruel, sadistic prank but a prank no less. It had been the most playful I had ever seen Roxas since this the beginning of the punishment. And god, that laugh. When was the last time I had heard a genuine laugh from him? Without bitterness, without judgment? I stared at his face, taking it in, acknowledging the rarity of the moment.

Eventually he quieted down and I watched the bitterness slowly suck at his happiness. He stared at the bucket, his mouth a straight, unforgiving line once more. There was still a hint of humor somewhere in his voice though when he responded with, "I'm not cleaning that."

"Yeah, yeah, state the obvious why don't you?" I struggled to get out of the covers and moved my legs towards the floor. The moment I moved to stand up I felt a heavy presence strike me in the head. I wobbled and took a few shaky steps forward. I would've crashed into the floor if he hadn't teleported right in front of me, holding me up. The anger in his face made me shiver. "You're still skipping meals, aren't you?"

I couldn't lie to him. Instead I shrugged. "Haven't been hungry."

Roxas stared at me for a long time. He then moved his hand to my stomach and the most cutting, splicing, painful hunger pain I ever experienced ruptured my stomach. I screamed and shoved at him, falling to the floor and clutching my chest. I could feel him glaring at me, barely make out his bared teeth. "Go eat something, idiot." He kicked me toward the door, right in the stomach, and I shook in fear.

Faster than I thought possible, I scrambled for the door, rushing down the stairs as my stomach dragged me towards the kitchen.


I scowled at my sandwich. Now that I had eaten a little I was pissed off about what Roxas had done. Granted, it was weird that I was getting worked up about a petty dream with Namine compared to the low blow with the eyes before, but it was all I could focus on. I was angry, I felt . . . small, belittled. It was at that moment that I remembered Roxas had been the older brother, not the other way around. I scowled for the umpteenth time, seriously contemplating burning my sandwich for the heck of it, when my dad came in.

"Huh, so who are you preparing to kill?" he asked, laughing. All I did was give him a look and his face instantly morphed into regret. "Whoa, you're looking pretty pale. How are you feeling?"

"Shit."

"Language." He sat next to me. "You're a living skeleton, son."

I smirked. "Tell me something I don't know."

He sighed. "You better stay home. Your mother would have a fit if I let you go out looking like that."

I shrugged. "Fine by me."

"You should eat too."

I rolled my eyes, stabbing my sandwich with my fork. "He didn't really love me," I said, meaning to say it quietly so that he wouldn't hear but when my dad turned his head towards me I knew I had slipped.

"Who didn't love you?"

"Roxas," I said calmly. I knew it was a lie, I knew I was spouting BS, but it felt satisfying to say it. I was angry. I wanted to vent. "He never cared about me."

"That's not true, Vanitas." My dad's tone had transcended into danger territory.

I kept going anyway. "Roxas thought I was crap! He never cared, all he wanted to do was take his damn pictures! I was an afterthought, when I joined this family I was just another subject, a pity project for his catalogue!"

"Stop it!" I blinked as his hand slammed into the table. "Your brother loved you more than your mother and I ever could."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you can prove that." I don't know why I couldn't shut up at that point. I guess I wanted to find out more about Roxas from my parents. Lately, most of my previous perceptions about the people I had known all my life were proving to be false. If anyone could tell me the truth, it would be Roxas' biological parents. Again, dang pride kept me from just asking them outright the easy way.

Dad sighed, staring off into the distance. "You have no idea how much. We had to hold him back."

"Hold him back?" He made it sound like Roxas had wanted to attack me. "What?"

My dad looked sheepish now, as if he had let too much slip. "This can wait until another time." He stood to get up, but I surprised both him and myself when I reached out, gripping his wrist.

"No, Dad." I pushed away my pride, gritting my teeth. "I need to know. I need to talk about him. I want you to tell me about him. He's your son! Stop turning away every time I bring him up!" I stood. "You and Mom act like you want to forget he ever existed! You told me the most respectful thing we can do for a person when they pass away is remember and move on! How does avoiding the subject help us cope with Roxas' death, huh?!"

He stiffened. "Vanitas . . . "

I shook my head. "Forget it." I pushed past him, forcing myself into a run. When I got to my room I locked the door, sliding to the floor, already breathing heavily from running up the stairs. I am getting weaker. I growled and sat up straight, only to look into Roxas' hard expression. He had his arms crossed and I knew I wasn't getting any slack.

"How much did you eat?"

"Enough to get by." Before he could protest I quickly fired a question. "What did you do to Namine?"

He raised a single eyebrow, but from how his fingers clenched inward I could tell I had caught him off guard. "I thought you didn't want to know."

"Just tell me what you really did. Please . . . I want to know what's really wrong with her." If I couldn't uncover any info about Roxas, I could at least start with his girlfriend. The paintings alone proved that I had missed a good chunk of who she was.

His face softened and he looked out the window. "I made her current nightmare an inescapable reality."

"Be specific." I used the doorknob to help me stand. "What. Did. You. Do?"

His eyes shifted from the window to my face. "She was already addicted to nicotine. I just left her without a choice. For months I had tried to help her get off the stuff, for months she ignored my advice. She wanted to give up. I'm making it easer for her."

"Go on."

He sighed. "Everywhere she looks, every empty space you'd think to look, she'll find a cigarette. An endless supply of cigarettes, matches, the like. Whenever she feels like smoking she can, wherever. She won't get in trouble cause no one else can see it except her." His eyes flashed and he narrowed his eyes. "Can you?"

I felt the blood rush out of my face and I gave him a single nod. He looked away from me, frowning at the floor. "That's not right. You shouldn't be able to see it. That's her punishment, not yours."

"Wait, I shouldn't be able to see it?"

"No." Roxas was in front of me now. He did it so often that I was used to him teleporting in front of me. What I didn't expect was for his hand to shoot through my head where my eye was. Frowning, he leaned in closer to me, moving his hand around inside my head. I couldn't feel it, but my eyes were still wide open with fright. With his hand half-phased in my freakin head now my whole face had the experience of being stuck in a freezer for too long. My teeth started chattering. "R-Roxas?"

He froze, pulling his hand out, eyes dull and unfocused. "The reaper . . . she's calling me," he said before disappearing. I looked in his direction, looked at the pictures of myself that still littered the floor, then brought my hand up to massage my right eyelid. That area had grown numb.

"What the heck was that about?" I muttered before crawling towards the pictures, picking up the one of me staring wide eyed, frozen in shock. I tilted my head, staring at the picture from an angle. The lighting in my eyes was perfect, you could see every little detail. In fact, with the way the picture came out my eyes almost looked orange, a blend of sunset colors. I smirked bitterly. "Ironic that the only one who sees them for their beauty is you, Roxas." I turned the picture over on the ground.


Whoooo! Yeah, angst!

Hah . . . sheesh, this chapter ended up longer than I anticipated. Seriously, this is only about half of it. I had to split the chapter cause it was just getting too long (and, again, it's Roxas' fault, gosh darn it!). I hope this still flowed nicely by itself, I guess you'll all be the ones to judge when I release the next chapter (which includes more brother angst, secrets with Roxas, a small family secret, angst . . . and maybe the Reaper).

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Justice T.