A/N: I'm wondering if my signed reviews don't work… well. Here's the randomness of post-KHII Axel.
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abulia
02: elegy to embers
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To whom it may concern:
I'm not dead, you know. I'm really not.
As long as the light remembers and the dark remembers, I don't think I can die. Unlike that idiot Xemnas, who no one cares to remember. He faded into oblivion, but I think it serves him right for being such a damned prick.
But unlike Xemnas, there's a shadow of me in Sora's heart. He remembers, though he probably doesn't understand why he cares. The feelings of a Keyblade master count for something—they create a light, a thread of luminosity, which can plunge into even this bitter darkness and create sanctum for my lost soul. Can't say thanks, but I do appreciate it.
He looks into the depths of flames, into red abyss with fire blue eyes and he'll always remember, with his hero's heart and his hero's light.
The name's Axel. Got it memorized?
Sora built me a grave. He set it up on this little island, away from the noise and curious eyes of the mainland. The sun beats down on it in flame rhythm, and it watches over the steady ocean far above the wet touch of the waves.
"I figured you wouldn't want to get wet," he says to the stone. Did you? You remembered I'm a fiery kinda guy, right? That's cute.
Sometimes he visits and talks to the stone, like I'm really there. He'll sit under the shade of the palm tree, the one that dangles succulent little star-shaped fruits over the square stone he hauled up there. He'll tell me all about Riku, and Kairi, and how strange it is to be home and not feel the strength of the Keyblade pulsing through him, singing rage to its Heartless foes. But there are no Heartless here, on this tiny scrap of serene rock surrounded by sea.
Except for me, of course, but I don't think that counts.
He'll bring me little presents sometimes. Obsidian rocks polished by the sea and rough emeralds, filled with sunlight and lined with veins of sparkling green, all left around my little gravestone. I like his company better than pretty rocks, but it's not like I can tell him that anyways.
The best present by far, though, is when Roxas comes to see me. Nothing in Sora's appearance changes—but there is something about his hair, flecked with golden light, or the tremor of his serious lips that lets me know. Roxas won't talk to me like Sora will—no rushed speech, no voice breathless from running here, no shimmering smiles, or little presents—he will only stare at my grave and remember. That's Roxas for you—a real bundle of joy, huh?
He silently promises, with all the strength in his heart—Sora's heart, really—that he will find some way to bring me back. I don't think he can, but the kid is so pig-headed he'll try anyways. I just don't want him to waste his feelings on me. I don't deserve a single of his unshed tears. I'm no one--just a tiny voice trapped in bitter darkness. Don't mind me, guys, I'm just a little shadow on the wall. Still, at times I wish I could reach out of this darkness and touch their hearts, these two boys who are coexisting and equal in their power and equal in their pain. At other times I wish I could reach out and tear apart the feelings for me, feelings that will never go away, though washed by the seas of time and buried among other memories and feelings. Roxas's feelings are better left unsaid and unidentified, best left buried in blue eyes.
Feelings are too much for me. Guess that's part of the package when you're a nobody. I don't need love, no matter how pure and hopeful, reflected in sapphire pools. Rather, I'd like to cut all the strings, singe the feelings until only the ashes are left for me, scorch everything until I don't exist and fade away like the ashes themselves. What can I say? I'd rather take the pain of destroying Roxas than the pain of watching him suffer for me. I'd rather be this silent shell. I don't need feelings--that's what I tell myself anyways. Keeps me sane, you know.
Remembering is good enough. As long as the light remembers and the dark remembers, I won't die.
I won't fade.
The name's Axel. Got it memorized? They won't forget, for better or for worse. But I don't think you'll forget either. And as long as you remember too, I don't think I'll be going anywhere anytime soon.
What is anytime, anyways? How much longer will I exist? Another fragile second? A hushed minute? A whispered eternity?
Oh, well. No need to get all sentimental, right? When it comes down to it, I guess spending eternity as a shadow is better than spending eternity as a nothing. It's just a shame that I don't have a magazine or something to pass the time... nothing but the ashes of feelings from a boy I love with all my desperation and the smiles of another boy who can't understand why he cares, but doesn't mind the feeling.
But I think it'll be enough. Don't worry about me. I'm just a shadow on the wall, right?
So until eternity, my friend…
Signed,
A nothing
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Once again, the strangeness of Monday mornings.
Hope you enjoyed it. But I'm wondering—does this review button even WORK? Seriously, someone find out for me. Make a fellow author's day and review! T.T
