'Home sweet home' was not an accurate portrayal of how Axel felt returning to the Castle That Never Was. He would have liked some escape from the blinding, sterile white aesthetic that saturated Castle Oblivion's decor, but to his dismay, his own walls were just as much an eyesore — the same fluorescent glow drenched every room in pure white, so bright it was a wonder anyone could sleep there.
He kicked off his boots and tore the gloves from his hands, tossing them across the room in disgust. Curious, he took a moment to pause, staring down at his palms, then wishing he hadn't. His hands were immaculate, not a speck of dirt or a blemish in sight, yet they felt dirty somehow, covered in a filth he could not see. Every time he blinked, he was certain he saw deep, crimson blood caked onto his skin. As quickly as it appeared, it would vanish, leaving only the image of clean flesh in its place. Chill out, he'd order himself, shaking them out. You're just tired. Today's mission was no different from the many others he'd been assigned over the years. Business, as usual. It never disturbed him before, and it certainly didn't disturb him now. Axel wasn't sure if he was even capable of hallucinating. He just needed some sleep. He'd feel much better in the morning.
He collapsed onto the bed, thanking the stars for soft, clean sheets. His muscles were a bit tense — sore from the day's work, of course. That would be no problem. There were plenty of methods he could employ to bring himself to a state of relaxation, some more fun than others. A warm shower. A shot of whiskey. Seven minutes all to himself. He was just toying with a few ideas when he heard his door open.
"Lea? Lea, can you hear me?"
He didn't even have to look to see who had come to call on him. "For the love of— do you ever knock? I could have been naked!"
Only Saïx would be so presumptuous and barge in unannounced. The man stepped into the room with his arms crossed and wearing a disapproving frown. "Old news. What are you doing here?"
"I had to get away for a night," Axel fixed his gaze on the ceiling as he spoke. "That damned castle is stuffy as hell."
"I lost you for a second. Are you alright?"
That should have been the end of it. Axel rolled over and closed his eyes, willing that his heavy breathing might drown out the noise in his head. The begging and the crying that still echoed inside his ears. The gasps of the witnesses. So they didn't go quietly — that was nothing new. He'd heard that same song plenty of times, sung far more loudly and with a more haunting quality than this performance. Right now, that lingering melody was just a mere nuisance. The only sounds Axel wanted to hear for the moment were Saïx's footsteps as he marched right the hell out of his room and left him alone. He listened intently for that soft tapping and the hiss of the door, only to hear nothing but heavy silence. He could feel the man's eyes burning through the back of his skull, and it took all of his restraint not to spring out of bed and throttle him right there.
"Something I can do for you?"
Saïx's cold expression was etched like stone, and his flat tone never wavered. "You can tell me what's bothering you."
"Nothing's bothering me," Axel insisted, letting his head sink into the pillow. "I'm tired."
"I've got all night, Lea."
"Just leave me alone."
He really would have liked to take a shower before going to sleep. Just a quick one to wash away that grimy feeling on his skin. He wasn't all that dirty. Work was strenuous and he was a bit sweaty. And maybe a little tense. Not overly-distressed of course. In fact, he felt nothing at all except for fatigue. He just needed to relax some, rinse off that offensive, smoky odor, refresh himself a little. That was all. He rose from the mattress, making a show of dragging down the zipper of his coat. Saïx had asserted that he would be unmoved by the thought of him being naked, and Axel was more than ready to test his claim. If he was lucky, he'd scare the bastard off and finally have some peace and quiet.
"You look pale. Are you sick?"
Come to think of it, he did feel sick. Must be the food. This restaurant was small — perhaps they were lax in their hygiene standards. Or maybe it was the heat, the sun beating down on his back. He could have sworn he'd said as much to his apprehensive companion across the table, putting him at ease for the time being. He just needed the time to be alone with his thoughts. To reflect on the day's events. He couldn't very well do that with this blue-haired pain in the neck badgering him incessantly.
Saïx had come closer, apparently unfazed by Axel's nudity. "What happened?"
Axel considered himself lucky to be a Nobody. Lacking emotions made his job that much easier. There was no need to harden his heart when he had no heart to harden. Never once would he be repulsed by the sight of the blood splattering through the air or spilling onto the ground. The screams of the victims would never turn his stomach as they might if he were human. Finally, it was most convenient that remorse would never torment him after the fact. He was the perfect assassin — an empty killing machine. There was no reason for him to be feeling nauseated now. After all, he was just following orders, just doing his duty.
"Vexen's dead."
"And that upsets you?"
Of course it didn't upset him. Not one bit. This whole thing was fairly routine by now. He'd lost track by now of the times he'd effortlessly snuffed the life out of some poor, unlucky wretch, only to come home and simply wash his hands of it. On the regular, he'd prance through the dark corridor and into the Grey Area, still covered in the blood of his target of the day, greet Saïx with a grin and a peck on the cheek, then fantasize about what he'd have for dinner while rewarding himself with an intensely gratifying shower. A typical work day. Vexen was just the next task on his to-do list.
"Does it not bother you?" he questioned Saïx with a viciously casual tone. "Even a little?"
"You're shaking. What's wrong?"
Saïx shrugged. "Your orders were to eliminate the traitors."
"Vexen wasn't a traitor!" Axel whipped around, surprising even himself with the sudden outburst. "He was just a scientist, dedicated to his research! I had to eliminate him so Marluxia and Larxene would let me in on their plans. They're the real traitors here."
Now Axel was pacing. Damn Saïx for bothering him, for working him up. Damn him for interrupting his precious few moments to quietly reflect. It was one thing to eliminate enemies. It was one thing to eliminate traitors. But Axel wasn't one for collateral damage. He was clean and he was fair, never the type to make a mess. That was bad form, unsportsmanlike. Axel didn't miss targets, and he had trusted Saïx to aim him in the proper direction before pulling the trigger. Now, hearing that they'd erased an innocent man didn't shake him in the slightest. He shrugged, completely indifferent to their grievous error. The nerve. The hubris. The gall.
"Lea, you're scaring me. Please, say something."
The callousness continued as Saïx brushed off Axel's remarks. "We have what we needed from Vexen. Replica No. i is performing adequately."
There was no limit to Axel's incredulity. To think that someone so professional as Saïx held such little regard for their former comrade, their former friend. "Are you not understanding? I had to kill Vexen for nothing!"
"You're an assassin, Lea. I don't understand why this is a problem for you."
"No," Axel sighed. "I suppose you wouldn't."
That shower wasn't going to happen. Axel traipsed into his bathroom to splash water on his face, cooling him down, washing the sweat away. He stole a glance at his reflection in the mirror, lamenting his appearance. Disheveled, pale, and tense. There was a heavy look to him, like something was weighing him down. He bowed his head, avoiding the image, only to find himself staring right back at it in the surface of the water in his cupped hands. He saw his own eyes, weary and bloodshot where they had once been bright and menacing. He was stuck inside their sinister gaze, unable to avert his own as he watched them shift into someone else's eyes entirely. It was playing back again with perfect clarity. The eyes, just as green as his own, widened as they locked with his, brimming with fear, welling up, pleading for mercy. It was the same scene he watched every time he had to do this, but this was the first time he couldn't turn it off.
"Whatever you're seeing, it's not real, Lea. It's not real. You're still here with me."
He turned off the sink, collecting himself for a moment. It was just an illusion. His tired eyes were playing tricks on him. He just needed to sleep. He turned around to find that Saïx had met him at the bathroom door with a towel in his extended hand. "I want that castle cleaned out. You may have this night to rest. Go back in the morning and finish the job."
Axel snatched the towel from him and quickly dried his face before shoving past the man on his way back to bed. "Isa, the others are innocent…"
"They're in the way. You have your orders," Saïx strolled to the door, turning back with a final polite nod in Axel's direction. "Sleep well."
"I know you can hear my voice. Come back to me."
His vision blurred with rage. More than retaliating, more than anything, he just wanted to bask in the disbelief and outrage at Saïx's abhorrent behavior. Ten years had passed, yet it seemed the man's transformation had occurred overnight. Saïx was once so noble, so loyal and so driven, and now Axel wondered just when he had become such a heartless villain. How did he not notice? How did he let it get this far? Axel clenched his fists, letting the anger consume him, but he found no satisfaction in pointing fingers. He hardly had any room to accuse Saïx of anything — not while his hands were just as dirty. His former self would never have dreamed he'd take a man's life, yet Axel had ended dozens, perhaps hundreds in the past decade without a shred of remorse. Now, he could only wrinkle his nose at the thick stench of hypocrisy. He'd changed, too. He'd changed into a ruthless monster.
Someone was touching him. He could feel hands on his shoulders, nudging gently as a familiar voice spoke to him. The blurriness was clearing up and he saw that same blue hair, fluttering lazily in the breeze only inches from his face.
"That's right… Follow me…"
The man looked worried. Fearful, even. Lea blinked several times, taking in the new light of the afternoon sun. The dazzling teal eyes staring at him with anticipation. He was home. He was in Radiant Garden, sitting at a table on the veranda of a tiny cafe off the main street. The sudden shift back to the present was disorienting, enough to make him very dizzy. The nausea came back with a vengeance. His stomach was clenching and twisting so forcefully that he knew he'd be in trouble soon. He reached for his companion, looking just as confused and frightened as he was. "Isa…"
"I'm here."
"I'm gonna throw up…"
"Do you want me to come with you?"
His mouth was starting to water. The churning amplified at a dangerous pace. "I'll be right back."
Lea slid out his chair and staggered away from the table as quickly as he could. It was a miracle he'd made it to the restroom in time, as he had no sooner closed the door than he began to retch violently, over and over without any pause. He hadn't the foggiest idea what had triggered it so suddenly. Perhaps the smoky aroma of the grill or the crackling sound of the burning coals had set it off. Maybe it was the lingering glow of the embers from the fireplace that morning. Lea had been so happy when he woke next to Isa, his shirt hanging askew and his hair a mess. Even though nothing had happened, he hurriedly snuck back to his room, hoping not to have to explain his appearance to anyone along the way. He'd been standing naked in front of his mirror, giggling like a schoolgirl as he admired all the new little marks around his neck and collar. That was when he caught sight of the chasm in his side. Then, he remembered.
Lea never gave much thought to the scar, only keeping it hidden for Isa's sake. He meant it when he insisted that he harbored no resentment for the mark. His decision was made long before Saïx put it there, and as far as Lea was concerned, the man had simply expedited the process. Axel was the type of man to kill himself — with as grandiose and theatrical a suicide as he could perform — long before he'd ever let the likes of Saïx murder him. But, the same could not be said for his former comrades. He didn't have to wonder whether or not they'd carried their scars with them when they returned to humanity. He knew all too well. His inadvertent discovery would sit with him for the rest of his days, along with all the memories he'd hoped to have buried away.
When he was confident that the vomiting had stopped, he figured he ought to leave before Isa came looking for him. While cleaning up, he looked into the mirror and saw a stranger standing in his place, wearing his own face like a mask. The same man on the outside, yet dramatically different beneath the surface. He wasn't looking at Lea, but at Axel. The same Axel who proudly wore his title, who reveled in his work as the Organization hitman. The man who had inflicted more wounds and drawn more scars than he claimed for himself. Staring at his reflection, he saw Axel choking the breath out of his targets. Kneeling beside their bodies, staring coldly into his victims' eyes and watching that light go out, watching all the life drain from them. Admiring his handiwork. Taking pleasure in being the last face they'd see. That Axel, the cold bastard he used to be.
Isa was still waiting patiently at the table. He hopped out of his seat when he saw Lea approaching, hunched over and sweating bullets.
"Feeling better?" he asked nervously.
Lea shook his head, keeping his eyes on the ground. "No…"
Isa slipped an arm around him, supporting his weight as they walked. "We should go home. You look awful."
"Isa, wait…" Lea grasped his jacket firmly. "I don't want to go home."
"But if you're sick—"
"I'm not sick," Lea insisted. "Please, Isa, anywhere else but the castle."
He was pale as moonlight. He'd been crying — his eyes were bloodshot and watery. His body was bent and shaking. Still, Isa knew that he wouldn't win this one. He took the man's hand, preparing to guide him out of the busy restaurant. "Alright. We don't have to go back to the castle. Let's just get away from all these people."
Lea was very cooperative, at least allowing himself to be led away from the crowded streets and into a nearby alley. He slid down to the ground, pulling up his knees and hiding his face. The two were silent for a long while as he recovered, still trembling and weeping softly into his elbow. Isa sat almost entirely paralyzed, having not the slightest idea how to react to the sudden onset of whatever had happened to his friend. Lea was always emotional, but it had been a very long time since he'd seen the man like this. The whole picture seemed eerily familiar, but for Lea's sake, Isa could only pray that his hypothesis was incorrect.
"Take your time," he assured him with an affectionate grip of the shoulder. "When you're ready, I'm right here."
After a tense beat, Lea wiped his face and took a long, shaky breath. "He… He begged me… He got on his knees and begged for his life…" The crying started up again, and he struggled to speak through the tears. "He was innocent… they both were… Zexion was just a kid…"
Isa's heart stopped with a heavy thud. He was spot on. All the symptoms were in order — the same that he'd seen from Demyx. He initially brushed off the surprise of Lea picking at his lunch, unsure if he'd taken even a single bite. Every time Isa asked why he wasn't eating, he'd have a different excuse, and after awhile he conceded that there was simply no breaking down that wall. Then, the tremors began, and Isa knew something was wrong. More questions, more excuses. It was when Lea sprang upright, rigid in his chair and staring into the abyss with a truly frightening expression of deep disturbance on his face that Isa began to realize what might have been happening. He leaned in close, taking the man's head in his hands and staring into his eyes, desperate to see what he was seeing. He was frantic in his efforts to reach him, calling his name and pleading with him to come back, everything short of slapping him in the face to jostle him out of whatever memory had him trapped in its clutches. All the while, Lea just sat there, catatonic, but with his face full of pure terror. It had been quite some time since Isa had last felt so afraid.
"Lea," he whispered. "Did you have a flashback?"
Lea continued on, ignoring the question. "They were terrified… They pleaded for mercy and I killed them in cold blood! What kind of monster am I?!"
"You're not a monster, Lea. I gave you that order. If anything, their blood is on my hands."
"But you didn't have to watch!"
Those words stopped Isa in his tracks. He was too stunned to speak, and could only listen as Lea poured out everything he'd kept bottled up for so long.
"You didn't have to see the fear and betrayal in their eyes! You didn't have to stand there and pretend it didn't affect you! You sat comfortably at home while I erased two innocent people!"
"Lea…"
"It didn't bother you at all…" he sobbed. "They were just in your way… and in the end, it was all for nothing…"
Of all the time Isa had spent planning his atonement, working to redeem himself, he hadn't given much thought to Even and Ienzo. The scientists were simply too smart, too observant. He needed them out of the way so that he could go forth with his objectives. With Vexen begging to work on his replica program, Saïx thought he'd found the perfect opportunity to put some distance between them. He sent the scientists to Castle Oblivion where they would be no bother, along with Lexaeus to protect them from any unanticipated dangers. Marluxia and Larxene, who had been suspicious from the very beginning, were wild cards, too unpredictable and too risky to keep around. They were given free reign of the new headquarters where they posed little threat, and Axel was sent in as a spy. When treachery was discovered, it should have been a clean job taking them out, but something had gone wrong. Marluxia and Larxene were mobilizing. The scientists were catching on to Saïx's agenda. The safest bet was to hollow out the entire castle, and he gave the order without a second thought. With Sora and Riku arriving, they had the perfect cover. It should have gone over without a hitch.
The Organization had made plenty of enemies, and as an expert assassin, Axel had never protested an elimination, until Castle Oblivion. Saïx could tell that something had changed the man after his mission there, but never did understand just what it was. He came back reserved, forlorn, perhaps even sentimental. At first, it was confusing, then annoying. By the time Saïx realized that Axel had lost sight of their goals, it was infuriating.
"You're right. I made you do all the dirty work," Isa admitted solemnly. "I'm sorry."
Saïx hadn't the capacity to comprehend Axel's plight. That sort of hurt didn't exist for them. Regret and remorse were entirely foreign concepts by that time, and human empathy was completely out of their reach. Even though he still called the man a friend, Saïx never spared a second to consider Axel's feelings, or to understand them. He rejected him, testing his loyalty by throwing everything on the line. Their friendship dissolved rather quickly, and Saïx accepted that he would never be able to miss it. Eventually, Axel was just another obstacle in his path.
Isa took Lea's hand tightly in his own. "How long have you held this in?"
Lea only sniffled and shook his head in response. Isa endeavored to be patient with him, treading carefully as he nudged him for an honest answer. "Lea, this is serious. If you're having flashbacks and just hiding them away—"
"I'm not you, Isa," Lea snapped. "I don't bury my emotions until they eat me alive. I wasn't hiding anything, so lay off."
Isa wasn't harmed by the accusation, but Lea immediately cast down his eyes apologetically. "I'm sorry… that wasn't fair. You've been more open than I've ever seen you. I shouldn't have…"
"It's alright," Isa squeezed his hand. "I didn't mean to pry."
He shook his head again with a heavy sigh. "Anyway, I was lying," he admitted. "I just… didn't have time."
In a way, Isa supposed, none of the apprentices had the time. They had every reason to believe that they should have died, yet they woke up on the floor of the research lab, right where it all began. Before they could spare a moment for shock and bewilderment, before they could even ask the question 'why,' they went to work. Even now, when they should all have been dealing with their traumas in their own ways, they worked diligently around the clock to find solutions to the new developments with Xigbar. Only Isa was given time to truly readjust. Only Isa was allowed to be broken for awhile. How selfish he'd been. What a drain, what a burden he was.
"Lea," he whispered, sweeping away the tears under his friend's eyes. "You have time now."
Lea wasn't wearing makeup today. The outlines around his bold lashes were his own. There were no streaks running down his face, no darkened circles where the paint had caked together with tears. Isa couldn't help but smile. He was looking at Lea's face — just Lea's face. Bare, natural, and perfect. Unmasked as it was meant to be.
It wasn't clear which of them initiated the kiss. Perhaps it was both of them at the same time. They must have kissed hundreds of times since yesterday — since deciding they'd be together. But none of the fire was lost, none of the heat and electricity had faded. This one was no exception to the pattern, and it was only seconds before Isa could feel the vibrations in his bones. The nerves. He was thankfully grounded again when he felt a new wetness on his cheeks. Lea was crying again. He pulled away, sniffling and apologizing, hiding his face. Even as Isa cupped his chin and gazed into his watering eyes, he averted them, staring off to the side instead.
"Ienzo…" he breathed. "He has a scar, too."
"Hmm?"
"All around his neck… from when I…" he took several ragged breaths, struggling against the tightness in his throat. "I know I never told you how…"
"And you don't have to. Not if it hurts you to remember."
Lea was staring intently at his palms as he spoke. "I never touched either one of them. I thought it would be easier if I… kept my distance…" his hands became fists and his words began to waver. "They're afraid of me, Isa. Both of them… I can see how tense they get when I'm around. I never got the chance to…"
When his sentence trailed off, Isa gripped his shoulder. "It's not too late, Lea. You still can."
"How? After all the time I spent stalling, how could I bring it up now? Maybe they don't want to hear it."
"Maybe they don't. You won't know unless you try."
"Isa, it's not that simple…"
"Why not?"
Isa had accepted long ago that what happened at Castle Oblivion would forever be a mystery to him. When Axel finally returned from that fateful mission, Saïx had to hunt him down just to get him to talk about it. The man was different, somehow. Saïx entered his room unannounced to find him just staring out the window with an eerily thoughtful look on his face. He'd not seen Axel so subdued in years. He'd prompt the man for answers and get the bare minimum in response. He'd look him in the eye, and Axel would look away. What the hell is bothering him? Only when Saïx had given up and was leaving the room did Axel finally announce that he'd eliminated Zexion. He'd said it in such a peculiar tone of voice. It caught Saïx by surprise. Not only that he'd actually gone through with it, but that he spoke of it so coldly. After all the moping, suddenly he was unaffected? It made no sense. But, rather than question it, Saïx left the man to his thoughts, having no interest in poking about inside the space where his heart used to be.
"You didn't spend a lot of time there," Lea said quietly. "I think if you had… you'd understand."
Isa had no desire to understand now. After seeing just a glimpse of how uneasy Axel had felt inside those walls, and now seeing the lasting effects in Lea, he would gladly let that curiosity go unsatisfied for the rest of his life. "Lea, I'm so sorry I sent you to that place."
Lea didn't say anything after that. It was clear from the weary expression on his face that he'd had more than enough reminiscing for one afternoon. Isa stood and pulled him to his feet. "Are you ready to go back?"
"Yeah… I'm supposed to train with Roxas and Xion later."
As they walked in silence back to the castle, Isa came to realize just how the tables had turned. In almost every way, Lea now mirrored every step of Isa's awakening, beat for beat. Flashbacks and nightmares, guilt and scars. It had been the elephant in the room for far too long, and Lea understood that the time had come to address it. It was his turn to atone, to properly earn his redemption, and Isa could only hope to be even half the support that Lea had been for him. The man deserved it. He deserved double, perhaps triple the compassion and patience Isa had received. And, of course, he would have it. He had the same team at his side that Isa had — the same family. Lea was in good hands.
The parallels did not stop there. The two approached the castle hand-in-hand, staring up at those magnificent spires with ambition in their bones, hope in their hearts, and fire in their eyes — just as they did when they were boys. The passage of ten years had changed everything, and in many ways, they'd lost more than they'd gained along the way. It was far too late to ask themselves if it was worth it. They would simply have to make peace with what they had left. They and their fellow apprentices, their friends, salvaged what they could and they built a new life in the same home they'd abandoned all those years ago, and they counted themselves lucky that home was still there, waiting for them. Scars were everywhere — in the broken bricks of collapsed buildings, in the withered foliage from destroyed gardens, in shattered glass and splintered wood. The people carried them, too — on their bodies, in their hearts and minds. But if Isa had learned anything from having a scar, it was an important lesson that he could see in practice all around him — wounds heal.
They made it back to Isa's bedroom, and Lea stood in front of the mirror, gazing at his reflection for a long while. He hadn't said a word, and Isa didn't press him. It was only when the man finally pulled off his shirt that he was compelled to speak. "You haven't covered it up today."
Lea had angled his torso to give himself full view of the crater on his flank. His expression wasn't entirely unreadable, but deliberately vague and guarded. "Didn't feel like it."
Isa slid off the bed and hesitantly stepped toward him. Now, in proper lighting, he could see every detail of Lea's scar. It was elaborate, almost beautiful, like a mosaic painted directly onto his skin. Isa surprised himself with such thoughts. After all, this was the scar that he had laid there. How dare he think himself some sort of artist, how dare he admire it like a decoration. If Lea was a canvas, then Isa was nothing more than a vandal who'd carved up what was once clean flesh, who'd defaced what was already a masterpiece.
But, Isa supposed, thoughts like that didn't do, either. It was just as wrong to think of the scar as ugly, to think of any part of Lea as damaged. He couldn't bring himself to use words like mangled or disfigured. Lea was simply beautiful. All of him. The scar was beautiful because it was Lea's scar. The story behind it was tragic, but it was Lea's story — a beautiful one. Isa couldn't put it any other way.
He pressed into Lea's back with his arms around his lean torso. They hadn't left their place in front of the mirror, watching each other's every movement reflected in the glass. Isa's hand slipped over Lea's hip, delicately grazing the scar with his fingertips. The texture was complex, but not exactly rough. The skin was warm and very soft. Lea flinched only slightly, but did not resist as Isa bent down and kissed the center of the deep crevice. When he felt Lea shudder at his touch, he knew that once would not be enough. Again and again he pressed his lips onto the scarred flesh. Isa wanted to truly know this place — this new, permanent addition to Lea's body. He wanted to understand every corner of it. He longed for that intimacy, for knowing that there was no part of Lea with which he was unfamiliar. Isa would kiss the scar as many times as it took until he had it memorized.
Several minutes passed, mercifully slowly for their sake. Isa's lips had long since gone astray, having traversed Lea's entire torso at least twice. He couldn't remember when they'd made it to the bed or quite how they got there — he was far too wrapped up in the subtle spasms of Lea's muscles against him, soft stroke of fingers through his hair, the gentle humming of his voice. There was less anxiety now in becoming aroused. After all, he wasn't the only man in the room pent up out of his mind and he knew it. It only heightened the excitement of the moment to finally let go and stop fighting the ache. To let the heat overwhelm him and to share it with Lea. The next few motions happened automatically — the removal of his shirt, the unbuckling of Lea's belt, and the shift in positions that brought them nose to nose, hovering a breath apart and each daring the other to make the next move.
Isa backed up to take a long look at the man lying in wait under him, just to enjoy the view for a moment. There had been a change in the light. He glanced out the window to see an unyielding darkness. It was nighttime already? Moonbeams cut through the void, shining through the window and lighting up Lea's face. There was something different there. Isa couldn't place it — was Lea wearing makeup after all? Had it run down his cheeks when he cried earlier and landed in those familiar shapes? The tears? A breeze, or maybe just a draft, blew around them. Isa shivered at the sudden chill. Where did it come from? The curtains were billowing, but the window was closed.
There was something about the way the moonlight fell on Lea's scar, something about the shadows it cast. He saw his own blade stuck in that flesh. He saw the utter shock in Lea's eyes. He heard the crunch of ribs, the gasp of stunned surprise. He felt the warmth of blood. He traced the light to its source. There it was. The moon. That same heart-shaped beauty that Isa stood and admired for hours at a time back then, when he went by another name, when he was someone else entirely. Isa could hear it now. He could hear its sinister voice. He could taste its putrid breath. He could feel its icy fingers closing around his neck.
"Whoa, Isa, you're shaking. Are you okay?"
The same deafening crack. The same blinding flash of light, followed by the same pitch blackness. When his vision cleared, Isa found Lea right where he'd left him, lying openly beneath him, but now with deep concern in his eyes. Isa looked out the window. It was mid-afternoon once more. The sun had replaced the moon, hanging lazily in the sky where it belonged. The images were gone, the voices were silent, and all of Isa's fear was replaced with embarrassment.
"Damn it… I'm sorry, Lea…"
"Sorry?" Lea nudged him aside and sat upright. "Tell me what happened, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be. I'm alright," Isa muttered, burying his face in his palm. "It wasn't anything to do with you."
What was it about lust that brought Isa so dangerously close to that place? He had Lea throwing himself at him. He had the two of them in bed with nothing but a thin layer of sweat between them. He was more than ready to get on with it, but that harrowing presence stepped in every time Isa dared to let himself succumb. Those voices he heard, those fingers which choked him, they did not belong to a stranger. That specter which haunted him was a familiar entity, one with whom he'd been acquainted for many years. One whom he was certain he'd cast out when he regained his humanity.
"Lea, please believe me…" he draped a hand over Lea's knee, whispering urgently. "I do want it."
To his relief, there was no disappointment in Lea's face. Only warmth and patience. "Of course I believe you," he met Isa's hand with his own and squeezed his fingers supportively. "You don't have to apologize, Isa. I understand."
Lea couldn't possibly understand. But Isa appreciated the sentiment all the same. He kept his head down, staring at the floor as Lea pulled on a new shirt. This was a sort of shame he didn't think he'd have to feel until much later in life, if at all. Maybe sex was off the table. Maybe Isa would never have it again. Maybe this was something that would be broken forever, something that Xehanort had taken away for good. He could learn to live with that, but not if it meant depriving Lea. If he could not satisfy the man, what reason would he have to stick around? Isa couldn't bear to entertain the thought.
In his anxious rumination, his thoughts wandered to Xion. The frightened child battling with her own demons as humanity was thrust upon her. This monster tormented her, too. The menacing voice of the moon, singing its siren melody and luring them both in. Calling them home to its clutches. The poor girl had already berserked more than once. She'd already injured herself. And that was just what Isa was aware of. How else did this celestial beast affect her? How many other times had she been hurt?
"Hey," Lea asked with some nerves in his voice. "Are you having flashbacks, too?"
Isa didn't look up. "Not exactly."
"Would you tell me if you were?"
He didn't have an answer for him. These episodes were very different from flashbacks. They weren't dreams or hallucinations. They weren't panic attacks. This was something far darker than he could describe, darker than Lea could comprehend, and the last thing Isa wanted was for him to worry.
Lea sighed in defeat, stepping into his boots and preparing to leave. "I should probably get going. I have a scheduled ass-whooping to get to," he adjusted his appearance in the mirror once more. "Oh, Ventus might be there! You want to come see the carnage?"
Isa shook his head. "Thanks, Lea. I think I'll stay here today."
Lea's face fell slightly. "Okay," he nodded with a sad smile. "If you need anything, you know where to find us."
"Have fun."
The very instant Lea had closed the door behind him, Isa leaped off the bed and dashed into the bathroom. He tore off his clothes and turned the shower faucet to its coldest setting and jumped under the water. It was freezing, almost as icy as the lake. His skin erupted in goosebumps and he began to shiver. But it didn't work. No matter how long he stayed in there, the heat would not dissipate in the slightest. The pressure would not release and the images would not dissolve. He sank to the floor with his head in his hands. This was getting out of control. The tension was overwhelming. Well beyond awkward and uncomfortable, now it was downright painful. This problem could so easily have been solved if Isa possessed even an ounce of courage. But every time he even considered his options, the voices came back. The eyes that watched from the abyss would glare at him. The gnarled fingers would crawl up his spine on their way to his throat. He couldn't do it. He knew what would happen, and he refused to take such a risk, even if he was all by himself in the relative safety of a locked washroom.
To his shock, tears spilled from his eyes. Tears of shame and humiliation, frustration and fear. Isa was a grown man, afraid of his own body. Afraid of his own humanity. Right when Lea needed him most, he was falling to pieces. Poor Lea, he thought to himself. The man was plagued by flashbacks and hallucinations, troubled by unresolved remorse, coming to terms with a grisly scar, real problems. How could Isa's odd sexual anxieties compare? How was he supposed to support his friend when he couldn't keep it together himself? What sort of partner — what sort of lover — did that make him?
The first half of this chapter - the extended flashback - was written months ago, and I've been waiting a really long time to post it! I'm excited to see how it goes over with my wonderful readers, as I've made a few adjustments to how it's presented and I really like how it turned out.
I also, shockingly, had trouble deciding on a title! Elephant in the Room is what my gut told me to go with. After all, these plot points are THE Kingdom Hearts elephant in the room that no one is talking about. Castle Oblivion? Murder? In a Disney game for kids? Nonsense!
Thanks always for reading! I hope that this story enthralls you as much as it does me.
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Peace and Love,
Ostelan
