Warning: There is a brief, slightly graphic depiction of an injury early on in this chapter

"Even? Would you like to take a turn?"

He wasn't paying attention. At the sound of his name, Even blinked, quickly counting the bodies between himself and the doctor. Twelve of them today. How did it come around to him already? Perhaps he'd fallen asleep. These sessions were rather early. That gentleman who always went first had such a droning voice, and as usual, he babbled for several minutes before finally handing the floor to the next patient. Anyone would doze off after listening to him go on for that long.

Small victories. That was today's topic. Even stared into his lap, rapidly playing back the last week and trying to remember anything that might have constituted a victory. He'd rolled up his sleeves the other day, when fiddling with some delicate wires beneath a broken console. The young intern who had been assisting him stole a peek, but didn't say anything. Even certainly felt victorious after that. He was even so brave as to tie up his hair later that afternoon when the lab got too hot. The ascot came off shortly thereafter, and he was so busy he stuffed it into his pocket instead of re-tying it around his neck. He did it all so casually, without a second thought. Ienzo smiled at the sight. They were beyond small — minuscule, really — but they were victories all the same.

He glanced around the room, meeting every anticipating face with a nervous one of his own. The doctor was leaning back in his chair, looking very relaxed — his 'politely listening' posture. Even took a few breaths in preparation. Today could very well be the day when he finally spoke up. This truly could be his turn.

"Pass."

He chickened out. The words were already set in place and he'd planned his delivery accordingly, but when he opened his mouth, not a sound erupted from him. It was just as well, he supposed. His victories were pitiful compared to the rest. Too small, even for this exercise. He'd likely have just embarrassed himself recounting them in front of all these people.

Coward.

The circle continued. Some spoke very little, others dragged on for a long while. Some cried, others laughed, neither reaction being any less awkward than the other. The doctor listened intently, offered his advice, drew some conclusions and presented a few lessons for everyone to take away when the session ended. The atmosphere was warm and wholesome. There was no tension, no fear, no sadness in the air — only peace. It made Even sick to his stomach.

When the meeting was finished, he intended to bolt for the door, but was caught by the doctor, approaching with that gentle look in his eye. The one he always wore when he was concerned. "Even," he said in a soft voice. "I just wanted to commend you for attending these sessions so faithfully."

Even froze, certain that that wouldn't be all the man had come to say. His assumption was correct and the doctor continued. "There is something to be said for just coming to listen to the others' experiences. But, for lots of people, speaking in a group setting can trigger anxiety. Whenever I have patients who want to speak but are too nervous, I do recommend individual therapy. Many find that it's less frightening when it's just one-on-one."

Even's mouth was dry. And his throat. And his mind. He couldn't manage a single word in response. The doctor only smiled warmly. "Your journey to healing is yours. Whatever you choose, I'll always be happy to see you. And I look forward to one day hearing your story. This is a safe place for you to tell it."

Even gulped. "Th-Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor patted his shoulder. "I'll see you next week, Even."

He was trembling slightly. Even hadn't realized it until he felt the doctor's hand stabilizing him. Most everyone else had left the room and the two were alone, standing beside the water cooler in uncomfortable silence. Before he could let the doctor say any more, Even headed out the door and down the hall, quickly ducking into the men's room. He wasn't entirely sure why he went in there. Perhaps just to get away from the crowd. Maybe just the change in atmosphere. Something about the clean tile floors and the pure white walls. The fluorescent lights. It was oddly familiar. Like a research lab. Like home. He laid a hand on the sink, observing its texture. Very smooth, like painted ceramic or porcelain. The faucet was a coarse, brushed metal. Every surface was cold to the touch. Very relaxing.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was a ritual he didn't practice often, as he had little care for his outward aesthetic. Most of the time, his blurry reflection showed a man looking disheveled and overworked in his stuffy lab coat. But today, he looked clean and rested in his casual attire. The plaid vest and khakis suited him quite nicely, in Even's opinion. Professional, but not formal. He leaned in to have a look at his face. It was pale and shadowy, but he'd certainly looked worse. There were unsightly bags and wrinkles here and there — new additions he'd had to make peace with. All things considered, he supposed he might be a handsome man. If only he could grow a beard like Ansem the Wise. Something to soften his sharp, angular features. He squinted at his reflection, trying to imagine it, and he briefly had to stifle a laugh when he realized how foolish he'd look.

He turned on the sink, intending to splash some water on his face. At first, he just waited, listening to the gentle hiss of running water. The clear liquid met no resistance as it poured itself into the drain. It fell with a peculiar grace along the course nature had plotted for it, accepting its fate with such ease. Even was so lulled by the soothing sound that before he realized what he was doing, he'd closed his eyes and was just breathing steadily as it continued to run. A moment passed and he cupped his hands under the faucet. There was a sudden, sharp crack in his ear and he jumped back from the counter. The water had burned his hands. He was sure of it. He stared at them, shocked at just how deeply red they'd become. The pain was indescribable, and he watched with horror as his flesh blistered and melted off the bones. He could hear the sizzling, could smell the smoke. He tried to scream. His throat was closed. He couldn't breathe.

As quickly as it had come, it was gone. Another deafening crack and hands were dry and unmarked. The water was still running — at the coldest setting. Even sighed heavily as he turned off the faucet. Of course, he remembered, he'd come in here to panic. He supposed any minute now he ought to collapse in a heap, sobbing and wheezing. Wasn't that what panic looked like? Wasn't that the appropriate response to frightening hallucinations? He was alone now, and unless someone with spectacular timing were to barge in and catch him in the act, he was perfectly free to drop his composure and go insane for a few moments if he needed to. He was a mental patient. He could fly up and down the halls screaming like a madman and no one would bat an eye. And yet, despite the illusion of privacy he had here, Even pursed his lips, only adjusting the position of his jacket in the mirror. That was the very purpose of attending these sessions. To regain a sense of normalcy in his life. To maintain his dignity. He came here to purge himself of anxiety, not invite it in.

With a final exhale, he turned away from the mirror and exited the restroom. The hallway was mostly empty as he made his way toward the lobby, intending to rush out of the building and get home as quickly as possible before he could be interrupted by any more surprises. In no time, he'd reached the doors and bore all of his weight into them without hesitation, only to find yet another shock waiting for him on the other side. The moment he'd entered the lobby, he saw none other than Ansem the Wise, sitting comfortably in the waiting area and flipping aimlessly through a magazine. At first, Even froze, too stunned to even question why he'd be here. But at the moment, the man did not seem to notice the scientist's entrance, and Even hoped he might have found the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He was just tiptoeing out of Ansem's line of sight when the man lifted his head and flashed a warm, cheerful smile. Now trapped, Even could only stand there, gaping openly as Ansem rose out of his chair and made his approach.

"Good morning, Even."

Visibly flustered, he cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I came to pick up a prescription?"

Even's brow furrowed skeptically. "Not for a second."

Ansem softened a bit, bowing his head as he spoke quietly. "I apologize for the intrusion upon your privacy."

"You haven't intruded," Even insisted. "I have nothing to hide."

He stepped outside, squinting at the blinding sunlight that flooded his vision. The fresh air, with its warm and natural scent, was a welcome change from the stale smell of the clinic. The people passing by had a certain bounce to their step, an energy that was nowhere to be found in that cold office. This moment was just a glimpse of the normalcy that Even sought for himself and for Ienzo. Healthy strolls through the plaza, natural light on their faces, clean air in their lungs. These were the very things they'd taken for granted, and yet they never missed any of it during those dark and fretful years. But now, with their hearts returned to them, and viscerally aware of the loss, Even was determined to awaken and nurture a new appreciation for this sort of peace. He hoped that he could one day feel just as relaxed in the great outdoors as he could in a lab, and prayed that he could impart such influence upon Ienzo as well — now, while he was still young.

Ansem soon joined him, shielding his eyes as he followed him into the shade. "Even, would you care to have lunch with me?" he asked, gesturing vaguely down the street. "I don't suppose you had time to eat today."

Even paused, raising an eyebrow. "I had plenty of time. I merely lacked the desire to eat."

"And do you have the desire to eat now?"

When his defensiveness had no effect on Ansem, Even shrugged, at least intrigued by the invitation. "Very well. Lead the way. I'm curious to see where you'll take me."

Even followed behind Ansem by a few feet as they ambled through the crowded streets. Several times, the man turned around to ensure that he was still there — a gesture which repeatedly caught the scientist off-guard. Something about the genuine concern and warmth in his eyes whenever he cast those brief glances, as if he was happy to have Even in his sights… it was distracting. Irritating. Even pulled his jacket a little more tightly around himself and kept his head low as he walked, avoiding eye contact with his companion.

They arrived at a small cafe, situated just off the main plaza between a clothing boutique and a pastry shop. The two were quickly seated on the terrace where they could enjoy the midday sun and watch the bustling crowds in the shopping district. Red wine was poured for each of them to sip while browsing the menu. Even had to snicker at the utter nonsense listed on each page — sandwiches that boasted artisanal breads and foreign cheeses. Overpriced salads supposedly grown from the very Garden of Eden. Soups with outrageously exaggerated medicinal properties. Even the water was dressed up like some sort of remedy from the gods. As he scrolled through the menu, shamelessly entertained by the bold claims he read, Even was not at all surprised by Ansem's selection. This pretentious joint was right up his alley.

"It was Dilan who recommended this place. It's become one of my favorites," Master Ansem said, catching a glimpse of Even's amused smirk. "Have you been?"

Even didn't look up from his menu. "Can't say that I have."

Ansem's eyes wrinkled into a polite smile. "I hope it's to your liking."

A charcuterie plate was brought to the table and set between them, to which Even rolled his eyes. He sat with his arms folded, staring into the distance as Ansem picked at the premium cheeses in silence. He really didn't have much to say to the man, as the questions in his mind needed not be spoken aloud. Master Ansem was no fool, and must have known full well that he had a great deal of explaining to do, yet he drew it out, stalling for time, making Even wait. After the waiter had come and gone, the two having ordered their entrees, Even's patience had worn dangerously thin.

"So," he took a sip from his glass of wine, leaning heavily in his chair as he eyed his companion with a generous amount of suspicion. "Did Ienzo send you? Wanted you to check up on me? Make sure I was really attending those meetings?"

"I came of my own accord."

Ansem's response was deliberately short. Incomplete. Infuriatingly so. Even glared at him. "I don't need to be checked on," he snapped. "Are you saying that you were concerned about me?"

"I'm saying I wanted to see you."

Even didn't speak right away. Once again, Master Ansem had given him a partial answer, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him positively mad. If he wanted so desperately to see him that he'd seek him out after a therapy appointment, then why wasn't he talking? What was the use in coming all this way?

Their food was delivered, and another long silence followed while they ate. Even was not hungry, and although he'd purposely ordered the most expensive item on the menu, he barely touched it. His guard was still up, but Ansem was puncturing holes in it, breaking it down piece by piece, aiming for the weak, vulnerable interior that was Even, his finest apprentice. For the moment, he'd forgotten everything from the clinic altogether. The awkward session, the chat with the doctor, the episode in the men's room — all were now overshadowed by the warm, cheery visage of Ansem the Wise, unapologetic in his imposition and daring the scientist to say he wasn't glad to see him. Heat rose in Even's face, and though he averted his eyes, he knew that he'd been caught. Ansem saw right through his blushing cheeks and into his soul, and even after all those years, there was simply nothing that Even could hide from him.

"These sessions are not easy," he admitted softly. "It was... a pleasant surprise, to see you there afterward."

As if the magic words had been spoken, Ansem was now fully engaged in the conversation, laying down his fork and resting casually on an elbow. "Did you speak today?"

"I… Almost," Even answered with some lingering embarrassment. "I choked at the last second. Humiliating, really."

"I'm sure you don't need me to remind you that—"

"Yes, yes, I know. It's a safe place, free from judgment. I'm aware," Even exasperated. "I simply don't know what to tell those people."

"Why not tell them your story?"

The waiter came by to fill their glasses, giving the scientist a welcome opportunity to stall for time, but when he was gone and they were left alone again, he still didn't have much of an answer. "There's really not much point to it," he began to fidget slightly, fiddling with his silverware, dragging his fingertips around the rim of his wine glass, unable to keep still. "I'm not doing this for myself. This is for Ienzo. It was always for Ienzo."

Ansem reached over, gently laying his hand over Even's restless fingers. "All of it?"

Gasping, Even flinched at his touch, almost compelled to pull away. Instead he froze, focusing on the warmth of Ansem's fingers enveloping his own. That simple gesture grounded him more firmly than any of the exercises he'd been taught in therapy. An overwhelming sense of relief flooded his senses, alongside a searing pain in his chest, the stinging bite of memories too bittersweet, too agonizing to hold onto. Ansem was waiting patiently, and Even could hardly look at him. He clenched his jaw and stared deeply into the table, avoiding the piercing gaze of the man's eyes peering into his heart.

"The boy is brilliant…" he began in a shaking voice. "I wanted him to have a future... I could never have dreamed that—" his voice was choked off and he found that he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Please," Ansem whispered softly, lightly squeezing his fingers. "Tell me your story, Even."

Even supposed he might never speak up in those therapy sessions. Perhaps he would never tell that doctor his story. But if any man needed to hear it, it was Ansem the Wise — the most deserving listener of them all. "After what we did to his parents… keeping Ienzo was merely an obligation. It was the noble thing to do, the right thing to do," he prodded his aching temples, grimacing at the pressure in his head. "Xehanort wanted to… I insisted that we not experiment on him. The boy had been through enough. At least, that was what I initially…"

Ansem never once interrupted as Even recounted the events of those last few weeks leading up to Xehanort's takeover. He was quite calm as he absorbed the information, learning about the atrocities committed right under his nose. And yet, despite his patience, Even had never felt more intimidated in his presence. "I don't know if it was Xehanort's doing or not, but Ienzo's abilities awakened, and we realized just how useful he could be. When you called it off… I lost sight of my duty as his parent. The research — the potential — became everything. We…"

Every other sentence trailed off as Even lost the nerve to complete them. Stumbling through his recollection of all the terrible mistakes he'd made, of gambling with his and Ienzo's hearts, betting it all on those damn replicas, ultimately running everything he used to care about into the ground. Ienzo was set to inherit the kingdom, and all Even could see was wasted talent. Ansem was coddling him, failing to see the bigger picture, disregarding the greatness they could have achieved and only focusing on the greatness they already had. Even began to feel stagnant, hampered, and was rapidly growing impatient. Ienzo's future was on the line. Their future was on the line.

It wasn't until Castle Oblivion that he began to come to his senses, finally seeing with some clarity just what he'd managed to do. He started to remember the faces and names, the test subjects whose lives he'd destroyed, the families he'd ruined, the irreparable damage he'd done. By then, it was far too late. It was too late to salvage his relationship with Ienzo, and too late to hope that he'd ever see Ansem again. In the end, he'd earned himself a fitting punishment, and in so doing, he failed to protect Ienzo from his own demise. Then, just to rub salt in the wound, he abandoned the boy a second time to rejoin the Organization, disappearing in the night without so much as a 'see you later.'

By the time he'd circled back around to the present, Even was shaking like a leaf. All the while, Ansem the Wise was still mercifully silent, having not lost an ounce of his tenderness even as Even confessed every one of his crimes in excruciating detail. He was a victim, too. One among many, but the one for whom Even held the most remorse. He found it shameful, even selfish to harbor such thoughts — that he regretted hurting Ansem the Wise more than anyone else. He guessed that along with his heart came the return of that loathsome bias toward the man, the faint echo of an attachment he never could forget.

"Ienzo is just as much your son as he is mine," Even took a shuddering breath. "Of all the sins I committed, I believe taking him away from you was the most depraved..."

It came as no surprise to the scientist that Ienzo resented him. He'd seen every milestone of the boy's transformation into a bitter young man, just as broken as the rest of his comrades. "It was like watching my worst nightmare come true, seeing him grow up following all my bad examples, picking up on all my worst habits. Losing his heart at such a young age permanently altered his development, and without your good influence, I fear I've completely ruined him…" Even continued insistently. "He's deeply traumatized. I can see it. That's why I attend those meetings. I am preserving my strength for him... so that I can hold him together when he inevitably falls apart."

Eight sessions and he never spoke a word. Around and around the circle they went and when it landed on Even, he kept his story hidden. The doctor reached out and he rejected him. His fellow patients waited for him to open, and he closed off. All it took was a few precious moments reminiscing with Ansem the Wise, quaking in his gentleness, freezing in his warmth, and the weary scientist spilled everything. His companion never wavered in his dedication as a listening ear and a sturdy shoulder. And when it was his turn to speak, it was as if he knew exactly the words that would crumble his old partner to bits.

"Even," he asked with painful honesty. "Who will hold you together when you fall apart?"

Even's eyes began to burn. "Ansem…"

"Have you ever considered… picking up where we left off?" Ansem's proposal was uncharacteristically meek and insecure, but there could be no question of his sincerity. "Of all the hopes I let die in the realm of darkness, there was one which I could not let go," he took Even's hand with both of his own, clasping it like a prized possession, a treasure with which he could never part. "The hope that you would have me again."

Even was expecting the question, but when it was finally asked, he found himself unprepared for it. It was no great secret what they used to be — Even had loved Ansem freely and fully once upon a time. The man had a passion and romanticism that stole his heart. He poured everything into their relationship, never shy with his affections, proudly giving his partner a love so deep and so powerful that it frightened him. He was a prince in every meaning of the term, but when they were together, it was Even who felt like royalty. Ansem was everything he could ever have wished for in a lover.

"H-How…" he stammered, barely clinging to his composure. "How could I ever hope to be worthy of having you… after everything I've—?"

"You were the first to come back for me."

"I was also the first to turn away from you."

"But you risked your life to save me."

"I risked your life out of vanity and blind ambition."

Ansem chuckled lightly, amused by the exchange. "We could do this all afternoon."

More than anything, Even wanted to accept. He longed for the bliss he used to share with Ansem. Being idolized, spoiled to the point of smothering. He needed that euphoria again. He needed the tenderness of an equal partner. He needed the support in guiding Ienzo through early adulthood. He needed the delicate handling of a faithful companion. And, deep inside him was a long-ignored, burning desire to be swept away by passion and thrill once more — to be stunned by a kiss, to be embraced to the point of breathlessness, to be taken until his body turned to gelatin. The opportunity was here, staring him in the face. They sat only inches apart, their fingers linked, their unblinking eyes locked, both paralyzed with anticipation.

He shook his head, at last pulling his hand away with an expression of deep sadness. "I don't deserve you, Ansem," he muttered in quiet defeat. "That... was a dream I gave up on a long time ago."

Ansem the Wise concealed his disappointment well. His face didn't fall, his shoulders didn't slump. He didn't heave a weary sigh at the news. Instead, he only smiled, accepting the rejection with a solemn, but resolute nod. "Then, if not as lovers," he added. "As friends. Ienzo needs us, Even. I would like for us to help him… together."

Even's heart was so full that it threatened to burst from his chest. "Of course… Having you back in his life… will make all the difference."

They spoke no more on the matter for the remainder of the meal. Although Ansem tried to maintain some semblance of small talk, Even was hardly listening. He'd been staring into space again, too deep in thought to follow the conversation. By chance, his eyes landed on a waiter lifting the cloche on another patron's dessert. He couldn't tell what the dish was from such a distance, but he watched with fascination as the waiter poured something like a thick, fruity compote over the plate. The people seated there were oohing and ahhing with wide smiles on their faces. Thinking that was the end of it and quickly losing interest in the display, Even's gaze drifted elsewhere, only to dart right back at the explosive sound of flames shooting up from the tray. The waiter had set the dessert alight, much to the excitement of the patrons who applauded and cheered. Even froze in his chair, staring in horror at the fiery confection. He could hear the crackling from across the terrace. The flames were blue and menacing as they hovered over the plate. He couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't look away.

A firm hand closed around his wrist and he jumped, knocking over his glass and spilling wine all over his shirt and vest. "Ah…!"

The deep red stain was spreading rapidly. Even could only watch it grow, still in shock and unable to move a muscle. Ansem hesitated for a moment, looking on with deep concern in his eyes. It was another member of the waitstaff who had come to their rescue, frantically and ineffectively scrubbing at his jacket with a napkin. "Extremely sorry, sir! Do pardon our clumsiness…!"

"What…?" Even asked as the fog began to clear. "N-No, it wasn't your fault that…"

The fire had been extinguished. The patrons who had ordered it, along with several others, were staring at him. Flustered and annoyed, he batted away the waiter and buried his face in his hands just in time to hide the blush in his cheeks. Mental patient. Just what he needed in that moment was another reminder that he was not well. So, he was not the man to collapse in a heap, sobbing and wheezing after all. Instead, he froze like a deer in the crosshairs. Completely paralyzed, helplessly watching as his own mind performed its tricks. He wouldn't fight, and he wouldn't flee. He'd just freeze. For Even, that was what panic looked like.

"Thank you, sir. We'll take care of this," he heard Ansem's voice speaking to the waiter, politely shooing him away before the man knelt beside his chair and took his hand in his own. "It's alright, Even. Let's go home. We'll get you something dry to wear."

Even said nothing as his jacket was draped over his shoulders. He was gently coaxed out of his chair and guided back into the street toward the castle. All the while, he could only dwell on the incident at the restaurant, much like the episode from the men's room at the clinic. Neither was the first, and they certainly wouldn't be the last, but if the spells continued, Even couldn't see how he'd be any help to Ienzo. He promised to hold the boy together when he fell apart, yet he could once again hear Ansem's unanswered question lingering in his thoughts.

Who will hold you together when you fall apart?

Even kept his face down along the entire silent trek, watching his feet take each step, leaning into his companion as he was led with a gentle arm around the waist. It was a relief for him to have not run into anyone along the way, and he felt himself relaxing more with each passing moment as they neared his bedroom. Finally, they were standing outside his door, and Ansem bent down to speak to him as he stayed hunched over with his head hanging low in shame.

"Would you like some help, Even?"

"I'll manage."

Ansem held the door open for him, gesturing for him to enter with a respectful bow of his head. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"I'm fine," Even insisted quietly. "Thank you, Ansem."

A few seconds passed where the scientist didn't move an inch. His eyes had lifted from the floor for the first time since leaving the restaurant, and they now focused on Ansem's. Before he had the chance to read the emotion there, to process the expression on his face, the man was leaning in, slowly drawing closer until he could press his lips gently into Even's cheek. It was a short kiss. A polite gesture of farewell. But all the same, it spread a pleasant buzz over his skin and a flutter in his chest. Speechless, Even could only gasp, watching with widened eyes as Ansem flashed him one last smile before turning to leave.

Even hurried into his room and nearly collapsed on the spot once the door was closed. Part of him wished he'd let Ansem inside. In a sudden and unexpected change of heart, being alone now seemed unpalatable, even terrifying. He stood in front of his mirror, staring intently at his reflection as he slipped off the vest, opened a few buttons and pulled his shirt over his head. Even was not concerned for the state of the garment. The stain would wash out, and he had plenty of clean attire to wear. What gave him pause was the grisly sight of his mirror image. He would never get used to the scars — never, for as long as he lived. He held his tongue during those moments when he heard Isa lamenting about the mark on his face. That man could consider himself lucky. Not only was his scar small and localized, but he had a loving partner to cover it up for him when it struck his fancy. He had Lea to make it disappear. That bastard, going around erasing scars, never once acknowledging the ones he created. Even decided then and there that the first chance he got, he was going to let him have it. No more tensing up when he entered the room, no more avoiding him out of fear. He'd waited long enough for Lea to come to his senses, and he wouldn't be waiting for one more second. For himself and for Ienzo, he was going to pluck up the courage and give the man a piece of his mind.

Where do I start? I think I'll begin with saying that yes, I do ship Even and Ansem the Wise. It wasn't anything I had thought of before, but I saw the work of a really great artist who goes by ohhicas on tumblr, and I suddenly was very inspired. I'd like to shoutout to that artist and I encourage you to check out their work!

I also would like to shoutout to my good friend Riku Kingdom Hearts, who is always helpful when I'm putting chapters together, and who helped me with this one as well. She is a great writer of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy 7 fanfiction as well (among other fandoms). Go check out her work too!

This story is like a tree that began with just a small sprout and grew into an enormous, magnificent oak. I never could have dreamed I'd make it to almost 30 chapters with what was supposed to just be a one-shot. Although the title will remain, this story has grown to be so much more than just Isa's story, and I really love that. It's so fitting for Kingdom Hearts. All of these people are connected by their hearts in some way or another, and they all need to heal and awaken. I am glad that you have stuck around for this journey, and I can't wait for us to all reach that conclusion together. There's so much more in store!

I'm on Twitter and Tumblr under the same name, and I have a discord server that is dedicated to loving Kingdom Hearts! /ffy5E8G

Peace and Love,

Ostelan