Warnings: Um... No, not much here. The time is drawing nigh, though. Soon, it will happen.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Swallowing harshly, he replied, "Yeah. I just... I can't abandon him. Even if he doesn't realize I am, I can't do it."

"Okay. Just take your time."

He nodded. Because he had nothing but time, now. Because nothing mattered without that sun and sky.

The red light flashed on. And resolutely, he murmured, "Hey. Roxas."

He felt his voice break, and tried to continue evenly, "Good to know you made it home alright. I was a little worried you wouldn't find this, but... Anyways, I just wanted to say I'm sorry; and um... I knew this was coming, but it just... caught me off guard more than I thought it would, so... I'm not gonna be around for a while."

"I'm not-" He quickly reprimanded himself, "I won't let you go, alright? I just want to make sure I can keep things together like this..."

His heart was thumping painfully in his chest. There was a sadness in his voice, a regret he felt in his whole body; fingers, cheeks, fingernails, heels, and even the tips of his hair ached with loneliness.

But he just took a quiet, strengthening breath, adding what he thought could be his last words to the one person who had wrecked him so completely, so easily, so wonderfully, "I know things are gonna be tough for you, but trust yourself. You've got a good head on your shoulders and an amazing heart. Live your life, kiddo. I'll see you around."

And like that, the message was over. With shaking hands, Roxas opened the machine and pulled out the tape. In neat, black-ink handwriting, it was signed: Sincerely, The Cassette Tape in uneven script.

Quickly he turned, hearing footsteps following from down the hall. His mind searched, trying to remember the sound, to put a face with it, and then a name.

Sora.

When his brother walked in, he breathed more easily. There was comfort to be found in the brunette's face, he was learning. Because he had been there, first and foremost, when he had woken up. And he had stayed with him since that day. And, unlike most of the people Roxas was finding to be a part of his life, Sora wasn't walking on eggshells for him, and without hesitation joked and teased and laughed. He didn't expect anything of Roxas, and for that, Roxas was grateful.

One thing that he was unsure of, though, was that Sora would not answer any questions about who Roxas was- or had been. The blonde was not sure how he felt about it.

"Looks like everything's packed," As he looked around, adding when he saw Roxas's hands, "What's that?"

Honestly, Roxas answered, "Not sure yet."

"...Wanna talk about it?" Sora asked, and when he shook his head, replied lightly, "Alright! Let's get this packed up."

As they moved further into the apartment, Roxas inquired, "Who packed the boxes?"

"Couple of Naminé's friends," Was the easy, if belated, response.

Roxas mulled it over, but shrugged it off without too much concern. Naminé was another face he liked instinctively, and while not as talkative as Sora, she accommodated his questions better than most. She was the quiet moment of contemplation in response to the incessant questioning he gave his brother. He felt like calling Sora his brother should have been strange.

But it was all he knew; it was no different than the feeling of calling himself Roxas.

He realized Sora had been talking, and heard the end of, "But it's all pretty well organized, so we should be able to load it all up and get back in one trip."

"Are you-" Clearing his throat, Roxas asked, "Do you really think I should go?"

Sora paused, considered this. "Back to Mom and Dad's?" When the blonde nodded, Sora took a deep breath before answering, "I think that it'd be a good idea to get back on your feet without the weight of the world on your shoulders. I think you should get straightened out, figure out who you want to be, then go be that person. We'll just be the safety net."

"Do you think I'll need a net?"

With a small laugh, Sora answered, "Probably not. You just gotta keep going, and you'll do it, all on your own, and we can't hold your hand the whole way, and honestly, I don't want to."

This gave Roxas something like a hopeful feeling, but it was a confused emotion. On the one hand, he didn't want Sora (or anyone else, for that matter) feeling like they needed to take care of him and bear his weight and carry him around. On the other, he wanted to know, if he needed a hand, he would have one to take.

"But Roxas," And this as he wrapped his arm loosely around his twin's shoulder, "I'm not saying I'm not going to be there for you. I'm saying I'm giving you the chance to try without me."

And he smiled, and Roxas smiled back. Because this meant they would be okay. Doesn't it? Because Sora read his mind, and that was okay. Because this meant they would always be brothers.

This meant they could learn to be friends.

Surprisingly, Roxas was not traumatized by his wake-up in the hospital, so going back for his weekly consultation wasn't a problem. He had trouble maneuvering the halls at first, and had somehow ended up at the end of an extremely long hallway in the delivery and nursery wing, but he'd learned the layout since then. He always went the same way, passing the same people, smiling and exchanging greetings. When he'd first walked into the psych wing, some of the attendants seemed surprised at his demeanor. They told him that he didn't usually seem so confused.

When they learned why (and he was surprised they hadn't before), they apologized; Roxas had brushed it off easily.

His doctor was called Leonhart, but he had told Roxas that he preferred just Leon. That first visit, they hadn't discussed Roxas at length at all. Talked more about the weather, what Roxas had planned for the following week. Things that they might have discussed any other time. When the blonde came back, Leon asked how he was doing, which gave Roxas a chance to bounce a few thoughts.

There was comfort in this office, and he'd come to understand that was because he and Leon had been involved in this relationship for quite some time. Roxas had curled himself up in an warm, worn armchair, not turned away from his psychologist, but face watching the street and rain outside. He liked the rain, he thought.

"I keep wondering who I am," Roxas explained, "And no one seems to be able to tell me. It's like the last stretch of my life was spent away from the people I know now, and I don't know who I was with during that time, so that part of who I was is more lost than the rest. I keep thinking there's a way to find it, if I look hard enough, but..."

Leon supplied, "You don't know how to look?"

Roxas nodded slowly, adding, "Everything sort of feels... borrowed, you know? Like my room is more Sora than me, like my clothes and shoes and everything belong to someone else. I must like them, I think, because I must have bought them, or they were given to me, but if I didn't like them, would I keep them? But I don't like them- well, not all of them."

"What don't you like?"

Taking a deep breath, he replied, "I have a wristband, black and white checkered, that I woke up with in the hospital. It was in my things, so I put it on when I left, but it... It doesn't feel right." He was still wearing it, though, and was playing with it, musing lightly, "And my hands are soft, I mean... not soft, but softer than I feel like they should be. Like they used to be rough, but they're growing soft again."

"I feel like that about all of me," Roxas admitted shyly, "Like I used to be something, and now I'm going back to what I was before that. Like a callus, healing over. But I miss the roughness."

Carefully, Leon murmured, "I'm going to give you some cryptic wisdom. Bear with me. The sun rises today and sets again. A flower that bloomed in the morning falls from its stem. The sun sets today and rises again. Flowers bloom to fill the land; but these are not the flowers of yesterday. Do you understand?"

I don't understand anything. Swallowing the remark, he reasoned, "The past is the past, and I'll never get it back?"

"Almost," Leon answered with a small smile. "It means that your calluses will come. The world is a hard place, it causes roughness in everyone, which gives us character. It makes us human, and how we take that roughness makes us who we are. But the calluses you had are gone; they won't grow back in the same. You won't be the same as you were."

For a moment, Roxas was quiet, considering this. Finally, he asked, "You have been my doctor for a few years, haven't you?"

"Yes."

With an aching shiver, he continued, "And what you're telling me is the Roxas you knew is gone?"

"...Yes."

He took another deep breath, sighed, and gave the brunette something of a tender smile. "Then I should just let him go, right? That's the only reasonable thing to do. Move on, and just keep going."

"Is that what you want to do?" Leon asked in return.

Shrugging, Roxas returned his stare to the window. "What else can I do?"

Roxas woke up, for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. His heart was racing, but his breathing was normal, and he didn't feel panicked. He hadn't woken with a start, or jumped from his position of rest. His eyes just slid open, without effort, as if blinking, as if he'd just closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

And oh, how he hated this routine.

Every night, every so often, he would just wake up, pulse elevated but otherwise still sleepy. He had accepted this, which seemed the only logical response. No one would (or could, for that matter) tell him if this had been a part of his life before his loss, so it was conceivable that Roxas would always have this problem. As it was, it was more of a nuisance than a real concern.

He glanced across the room. Beyond the far wall was Sora's room, Sora's bed, Sora. If he strained his ears, he could hear him snoring, and on occasion talking in his sleep. Down the hall, his parents, who still were at odds with him, and he with them. The morning was not quite broken, the sky pre-dawn grey through his window. Outside, the streets had not yet decided to start the day; as he stood, looking down into the city, the streets still lazily blinked red and yellow, trusting those up early or late enough to see them to use what sense they had to maneuver through them.

Taking a deep breath, he murmured, as he sometimes did, "A far-off dream, like a scattered memory... What is it?"

But the sky held no answer for him. Or, perhaps, like his brother, it chose not to give it.

Roxas shook his head clear, going for his morning shower. I shouldn't be so passive aggressive, he thought. Sora isn't telling me for a reason. Roxas meant to be reasonable, because it was easiest on everyone. He still asked questions, though he had stopped expecting an answer. At least he didn't have to hear I-know-but-I-won't-tell-you, which would have made him crazy. Sora genuinely did not know much about him; that fact was enough to make him want to be less like who he'd been.

But he still wanted to know that person. Because, he reasoned, whoever that person was had something good in him; elsewise there wouldn't be so many people trying to help him and take care of him.

Right?

Months passed.

He had elected, after some debate internally, to set aside the Roxas that he used to be. He has stopped asking 'did I-', and asked instead, 'did he-'. Not that he often got answers, only about some simple and inconsequential things, such as the way he signed his name and folded his shirts. Most of his sessions with Leon were focused on the future, with only a few sessions for reflection, and even those about his progress since that Roxas had been lost. Leon seemed unsure about this, but he never voiced any concern with such aside-setting.

Roxas had moved back into the apartment he'd lived in. He was surprised to find a helpful-sized amount in his bank accounts, and with those funds, and Naminé and Sora at his side, had refurnished his home and settled in. He went to work in a bookstore near the university campus, and was waiting for the fall term to enroll. The staff there were more than accommodating to the idea of Roxas attending.

For the most part, Roxas was proud of himself. He stood on his feet, and heard with his ears, and was surviving on his own.

But there were still things he didn't understand, and more than a handful of them. He felt locked in a space between rooms, like he had knocked and was waiting for someone to open the door; waiting patiently, because that was reasonable, and he wanted to be reasonable. Because that made everything easier. He'd stopped asking Sora questions altogether, because he'd seen that not being able to answer was breaking the brunette's heart. He didn't ask, didn't argue, and just kept going, though sometimes it was like swimming through sand.

Against what he thought was common sense, Roxas hadn't told Leon (or anyone, for that matter) about the cassette tape. He spent hours trying to memorize the voice recorded there, listening and learning the lilts and rises of the emotion in it. He knew he shouldn't obsess so much, but it was all he had of someone, someone who had known him, who knew him very well (he thought), and he almost thought that this man, whoever he was, would be someone to tell him about the Roxas he used to be.

People moved around him; the crosswalk had changed, and he quickly rushed across the road. Today had been a work day, and his apartment was calling him. The bookstore was an odd place (called Betwixt and Between), and Roxas had not yet learned to be at ease there, but he did not dislike it, and it was enough to pay the bills for a while. He was content.

As he walked past the door of what he learned was a bar, he managed to slam his shoulder into someone's chest, and quickly apologized.

But he looked up, and the face he saw wasn't annoyed or dismissive, as most were, but surprised. And, as Roxas look, his eyes grew wide, and he understood.

Quickly, the taller blonde muttered something like "Don't worry about it," and tried to shuffle along.

"Whoa, wait!" Roxas grabbed his arm, holding him there, asking, "You recognize me, don't you?"

The other had stopped, and he nodded, answering in a quiet, tenor's voice, "Yeah, I know you."

"But you didn't try to talk to me," Roxas continued, "So you already know why I didn't recognize you?"

"Yeah, kid," Finally, sea-green eyes returned to his, nervous and concerned, "I know I'm new to you."

Roxas had a thousand thoughts flying through his head, but he released his grip before asking, "You just-"

"Trust me, Roxas," This with what was almost a wry grin, "I don't need you to make me feel guilty about leaving-"

Shaking his head quickly, Roxas answered, "No, that's not what I meant, I just... Will you do one thing for me?"

"What..." With a sigh, he nodded, "Yeah."

Roxas swallowed harshly, asking, "Will you tell me about him?"

He saw goosebumps rise on Demyx's arms, and when he asked, "About who?", Roxas almost wanted to know about whoever caused such a reaction.

But he answered instead, "The Roxas you once knew?"

"You came back here?"

They were on their way up the stairs to Roxas's apartment as the younger answered, "Yeah. I couldn't stay there forever, you know? I had to keep going."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense," Demyx agreed as they stepped inside, though there he paused for a moment.

Of course, he hadn't expected the apartment to look the same. He'd moved all of Axel's stuff out, left it an empty shell, and, of course, Roxas would have had to build his own home. But Demyx couldn't be prepared for the complete change of the space. The layout was almost backwards, the shapes and colors and patterns at odds with... well, everything. Not that the apartment was furnished poorly; but it was so different that he had a hard time believing that Roxas and Axel had ever lived there together.

"I'll be right back," Roxas excused himself, almost shyly, "I'm gonna get out of this uniform."

He went down the hall, but as he did, Demyx could see that even he wasn't sure about the layout of the room. As he passed a table, a chair, a bookshelf, he reached out, tracing the side of it, not from fondness, but so he knew where it was and could avoid it. Demyx continued to inspect the room, saving his question for Roxas's return.

But when he came back, Demyx again found himself distracted. Because Roxas was pulling a worn, black hoodie over his head, one that Demyx had known for years. Because he himself had sewn in the dark red lining in the hood (Reno's cat had its way with it). And because he hadn't seen it in months. Since Roxas had lost everything.

"Do you, um... Do you always stare like that?" Roxas asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with nervousness.

Shaking his head clear, Demyx replied, "Sorry, I was just thinking about the apartment."

"Oh. Yeah, feels wrong, doesn't it?" He turned, scrutinizing the room himself. "I mean, I'm happy with it, for the most part. But it just isn't right. I'll wake up, stumble out of my room, and end up running smack into something because it doesn't belong there, even if I've left it there for weeks. And for a moment, I'll know where it's supposed to be, but then I'll actually wake up and it'll be gone."

It almost amazed him, how easily Roxas explained it. Even after all the time he'd known him, Demyx had never gotten such a simple and open answer.

He realized he was staring again, and noted, "You look like you're swimming in that hoodie."

"Feels like it sometimes," Roxas agreed with a soft smile, explaining as he went to the kitchen, "But it's comfortable. I don't know why, but I like it. He didn't have anything else like it, I mean, so... I don't know. It was in a box of stuff like that, you know? Stuff that was way too big to be his, but Sora couldn't tell me who they belonged to. No one would."

As he began brewing coffee, he added a bit more softly, "No one will tell me anything, really, not about him."

Which had started to bother him, just a little; the fact that Roxas kept referring to himself as another person, in regards to before he lost everything. In a way, Demyx understood. People did what they had to in order to stay sane. Hell, even Axel. If that was how he stayed sane, Demyx would grudge him that. Because, in a way, he was a different person, wasn't he?

Demyx leaned against the counter top, watching Roxas work. He doesn't look like himself, he decided. Though, of course, Roxas hadn't changed, there was a simpleness in his expression that Demyx wasn't sure he understood. He was so much easier to read now, without years of practice and effort to hide protecting him. Like he didn't know to hide from the world.

"No one will tell you?"

He shook his head, answering, "I mean, it's not that they won't tell me, but it's like they can't. Sora can't, I mean, I... I guess they weren't together a lot."

"I never met your brother," Demyx mused quietly. "I know he was off with his university for that last six months, but you'd been keeping your distance for a while."

Roxas stopped, facing him in confusion, asking, "Why would he do that?"

"Do you know about your amnesia, from before this, I mean?" When Roxas nodded, he continued, "Well, you were afraid of losing him, or something about him, and you thought it'd be easier on the both of you to just minimize the risk of him knowing you lost something. Because if you didn't know and he didn't know, it was like you never lost it."

Blue eyes clouded over, and again, Demyx was amazed at how easily the emotion played on his face.

Finally, he shook it off, and asked, "So how did you know him? How long?"

"Um... We met about a year ago, maybe a year and a half, I guess," Demyx answered. "I work at that bar, the one I ran into you at, and you came in every so often after you were done working for the day. I mean, we didn't really start knowing each other until six months before you... Well, before this time, I guess."

Nodding slowly, Roxas continued in a tentative tone, "Were you... close to him?"

"There's not a simple answer to that," Demyx replied with a contrite tone, explaining, "We were in a way. You didn't keep people close, not like most people, but I... I was lucky enough to catch you just as you were starting to open up. We had an awkward sort of friendship, I guess, but then, I'm kinda awkward when I want to be."

Roxas managed another smile, and with a soft sigh admitted, "From what I hear, he was sort of a loner."

"You." He couldn't take it any longer, and when Roxas gave him a confused look, he carefully placed his hands on the younger's shoulders before he elaborated, "You are Roxas. The Roxas I knew may not be the same person you are now, but you're still Roxas. You were sort of a loner. You didn't keep people close. Yeah, I know it hurts to not know why you were that way, and it sucks that you have to take responsibility for that, but the Roxas you used to be was more than that. You have a good head on your shoulders and an amazing heart, and you got that from who you used to be."

Demyx watched as Roxas's face grew red; Maybe no one has confronted him on this. Which, from what he knew of Sora and Naminé, would not have surprised him. They would let Roxas do whatever he needed, whatever he wanted. Demyx did the same thing with Axel. But he couldn't do it anymore, not when it was breaking Roxas this way.

"So um," Roxas cleared his throat, and quickly Demyx released his hold. But Roxas smiled, and asked, "So tell me about me, then. About who I was."

Glancing into his coffee, Demyx noted, "You used to put milk in your coffee. And honestly, I don't know how you don't now. Coffee is terrible."

"I don't much like milk anymore."

"That's why you're short, you know."

For hours, Demyx found ways to tell Roxas about himself without bringing Axel into it. Because he wasn't sure the redhead would want him to, and he wasn't sure he could explain why Axel had left (hell, he couldn't really explain why he had left). For the most part, Roxas was glad to hear his story, though at points some of his questions couldn't be answered.

"Why did I go to the hospital in the first place?" He amended after a moment, "I mean, the last time, before the surgery."

Though Axel had told him (in the half-way that Axel sometimes did) why they'd gone to the hospital, Demyx didn't want to tell Roxas that. And so, softly, glancing away, he replied, "I'm not sure."

"...Is it bad that I think you're lying?" Roxas asked, an almost sad, tender smile flashing across his features.

Demyx turned back to him, with a mirroring expression. "No."

"But you won't tell me?" This wasn't accusatory, wasn't demanding, wasn't even really angry.

With a deep sigh, Demyx finally explained, honestly, "There are some things I can't tell you, Roxas, not even me."

"Okay," Roxas stretched out,curling back into the hoodie before continuing, "Can I asked about something you said today, though?"

Confused, the other replied, "Yeah, go ahead."

"When you said I had a good head on my shoulders," Roxas opened a drawer in an end table, "It reminded me of something, and I wanted to know if you knew anything about it." He pulled out the cassette player. When Demyx's eyes widened, just a little, he remarked, "So you do know it. But it's not your voice, so... who is it?"

Their eyes locked, and it drew pause from Demyx. Because he wanted to stick to his guns and say he couldn't tell, but there in Roxas's eyes was something he'd never seen- at least, not from Roxas. And he wondered, softly to himself, if it had always been there, and Roxas had just been really good at hiding it. But Demyx knew what was there, and he knew it from Axel.

Roxas was terrified. He was so scared that he was losing hold of the most important thing in his life, that there was nothing he could do, and even if there was, he was scared that he would chose to let go of it, because that was the best thing to do, because it was reasonable, because it was already gone and he wasn't getting it back.

"My best friend."

Why did it take so long for me to write this?

No answer. But I hope you'll forgive me for it. I had more planned to put in this chapter, but I'm going to save that for the next chapter, a phrase which here means, "THE END." There were many reasons for this, but mostly because I'm not sure it would have been a good idea to put so much in one chapter and hold off the update for an undetermined period.

Anyway. Thanks as always for reading, thanks moreso if you decide to review. There's just the one chapter left, and while I might not have it by New Years, it shouldn't be too much longer after that. I promise to have it up well before the two-year mark in February. Have a safe holiday, everyone!