They were like a close knit family, but they never talked. It's all relative. Only if they needed to, when it was absolutely necessary, would they communicate. And then it was trivial in their eyes.

"Ohh, hey, Lexaeus is dead."

"Really? Hmm. When'd it happen?"

"I think that 'Riku' boy did it."

"Not Marluxia? I thought they hated each other."

"No, he's dead too."

They were dropping like flies. There would be no more family reunions. Members of the Organization were dying. And it was murder, it was unnatural. It was cold-blooded and a family affair. They were killing one another.

They were greedy, selfish, thought only of themselves, of the future. What if he dies? I'll move up in the chain. I'll have more power. And if he dies, I'll be the prime. Number one.

They pretended to care, pretended they had hearts. They were souls, an exaggerated emotion of lust, power hungry tyrants. And at night, they were restless.

There was an exception. Two.

One was a murderer, he had betrayed his comrades. He'd done it in cold blood, with his own hands, wearing the synchronized black gloves.

Two was unaware. He wanted to sleep but possessed insomnia. He hungered for the truth. His stomach was an empty pit. It was bleak and empty, a space filled with blackness. He had a leak.

None of the members ever knew each other; they'd never been formally introduced. No one was there to help them, each was on their own. It'd been that way from the start, their creations, to the finish. Their deaths, their losses.

Most of them, those nobodies, never found a reason. There was the living and the dead. They didn't want to die, they wanted to live. Like a normal creature, with a heartbeat, a purpose.

Axel, the bastard with the bloody hands, would visit at night. He went into their bedrooms, the dead. He studied their items, their treasures. Everything was untouched, dusty.

Roxas would flip himself over in between his sheets. Sleep was useless but he wanted it. He couldn't have it. He'd drift off into darkness and wake to sunshine. He waited and nobody came. Axel…

"Axel?"

"Hey." He smiled in the dark, in the night. He kneeled next to Roxas, dressed to kill.

"What are you doing here?" Sweat and worry dripped.

"Saying goodnight." He wiped his hand over Roxas' forehead. It was flesh, soft, real.

"I can't sleep," he paused.

Axel adjusted the covers. "How about a bedtime story?"

Roxas closed his eyes and smiled. Axel was his brother, taking the role of mother. A tenderness was in his voice, his touch. His story was melodic, a lullaby, sweet.

There was a boy who went on a journey. He wanted to find himself, but he didn't know what he was searching for. He traveled all over the land, fought many battles, won them all. He was rewarded treasures, gold, jewels, but he wasn't happy. He had given up and decided to return home. It was there that he discovered what his life really was, with his kin, his brothers, and he was happy there. He wasn't alone.

Roxas opened his mouth, his teeth were white. Axel's teeth were white. They were the same and blended together.

Roxas slept while Axel ran.

xxx

Mmm… yeah. Just an angst attack about two friends. You can take the ending any way you please.

Characters aren't mine. PAS MOI.