Sometimes Sora wakes up. He doesn't just wake up, but he really- wakes up.
He doesn't wake up next to Goofy or Donald, but he wakes up in a little white room.
When Sora really wakes up, he knows.
His last dream- real dream, not like the other dreams that were almost real- his last REAL dream of Riku reaching out to him with that smirk, the one where he's reaching for his friend but the waves drag him away and he loses his hold and he never gets there, never to Riku.
Sora's thoughts are in pieces, but when he really wakes up he knows that's his last real dream.
After he remembers his last real dream Sora always knows what it means. Because after that he always remembers his last real memory.
He can never forget seeing the soft glimmer of silver hair, a gleaming cloud floating in the water, on one of the most gorgeous days of the year. He can never forget that face down body looking like it didn't belong there- a bit more bloated than usual, unmoving, pale and sickly white-blue.
He can never forget knowing- just KNOWING- that it wasn't an accident.
He remembers, and remembers why he sleeps.
When Sora wakes up, really wakes up, he doesn't move. He stares at the ceiling- the white one, cushioned so he couldn't hurt himself even if he tried- and cries, but he doesn't move.
Sora just likes to sleep.
