Her eyes were crusted shut.
Aqua rubbed them open to the sunshine beaming through her curtains. She was sluggish, at best groggy and light. This was the sort of sensation that came with heavy sleep - not the restful kind, but not the fitful, either. Her bed was cold, and that fact made her ache in all the worst places.
She wasn't alone, though.
Chirithy watched her, casually standing on her nightstand as if waiting for eons.
"That was a sweet dream," it said, not as a question, neither as a statement. "Or should I say savory?"
She blushed.
"Cheers?" Aqua grumbled, pretending she didn't hear anything. The image of Terra grazing her thigh stayed on her mind, and she brought her hand to that same spot under the covers to see if it was indeed warm. It wasn't. She hid her disappointment.
It wasn't that spicy of a dream, but nothing she'd want Chirithy to see. A sea of stars in the dead of night, Terra by her side. He smirked. He chased her, and she ran so fast she flew, the grass blurring beneath her feet.
Despite that, he caught up. He grabbed her by the hips. He brushed his fingers against her skin, and he had nothing but smiles on his face, like bad news was something only good people wanted to hear. Like their argument last night never existed.
They floated and spun as if underwater, him holding her close by the waist, forehead to forehead. He looked up towards the sky. The star he plucked out was tiny, but it was bright, and he offered it as a gift.
"Well, you're welcome," Chirithy said, rubbing its snout, and she blushed to the point that she couldn't bear it.
Aqua thought to ask if Ven sent it over but she was distracted. Not having Terra's touch there now hurt more than she prepared for.
"Are you the only Chirithy in the castle?" she asked quietly, scared of the answer.
It perked its ears and cocked its head. "Of course I am. I would know if there were others."
The answer pleased Aqua, but it worried her. If she was hallucinating, then something was really wrong.
But Chirithy fumbled with its next words, growling like it was arguing with itself. She didn't think her question bore that much weight.
"Keybearers," it said, choosing its words carefully, "all have the capability to be with a Chirithy companion."
Aqua's heart punched violently. "Capability?"
"Not everyone can talk to their Chirithy, for their Chirithy needs to be physically made into this world," it said, again so tender with its words. It was like Aqua had put it into a compromising position, even though she knew better than to pry into its business.
Bile bubbled in Aqua's throat, and she swallowed it. "Do they all look the same?"
"Chirithy looks like whatever Chirithy is needed to look like."
She sighed. For what it's worth, she didn't want to get to know hers.
"I did you a tremendous favor," it said, paws on hips. It had meant to be sniding, but it came out weary. "I chose to help you last night because… well, it was easier than helping Terra."
A shiver crawled on her face. Aqua threw her covers over, and fixed her robe over her shoulders. She slept with it on. "Is he awake?"
"No," it scoffed. "He's lazy."
That didn't describe Terra despite how messy his room was. Aqua gracefully bolted out of her room, keeping her footsteps soft and light on the tile. Ven's door was already open. Most likely, he was in the kitchen.
Aqua tried the knob on Terra's door. It wasn't locked anymore.
Maybe he got up and never bothered to greet her.
No, he was asleep on his stomach, still in his clothes with his armor intact. His snores ground like an engine, sputtering grunts, and he strangled a pillow in his arms. His brows scrunched together, as though the dream had him in a headlock.
Two nights ago, when he had her in his arms, he smiled while he slept.
Chirithy strode its way through heaps of clothes scattered on the floor, worn and unworn, before hopping onto the bed and climbing onto Terra's shoulders.
It poked him at the cranium. "Wake up." When he didn't stir, Chirithy tried again. "You're such a bum, get up."
Aqua didn't dare come close, clutched under a feeling that she was trespassing.
Terra snarled from the prodding. His eyes snapped open and his pillow crumpled under his fists. Looking over his shoulder, his gaze only hardened.
He grabbed Chirithy by the face and buried it into the mattress, throwing all the sheets into knots in a fury. Once finished, he rubbed his face as the tension left his body.
It was time to leave, but Aqua watched Terra lug his legs over the edge of the bed and hang his head. Chirithy rustled under the bedsheets, getting lost in looking for a way out and squeaking for mercy after it had been given.
Terra didn't say anything, but he knew she was there. He glanced everywhere around his room: his dusty nightstand, his open dresser, his covered mirror. Everywhere but her.
If she left, she'd spare him worse. His eyes were puffy and red from hours of crying. The more he realized he wasn't dreaming anymore, the more he grew defeated, as though he was convicted and was meekly waiting for his sentence. He repressed some shivering but did a poor job of it.
Aqua had her hand to her mouth and only realized it now. She removed it to speak.
"I'm late," Terra said, his voice grainy.
He dragged himself into his bathroom. Aqua stood her place, listening to the water gushing from the sink. He was washing his face. She tried to think of something to say, but her mind was blank. She wanted to shrink as small as possible, just so she wasn't invading his space.
Terra stepped out and went straight for his shoes, one tossed upside down. Then he aimed for his satchel, closing the flap over his unfinished crystals.
All that was left was for him to exit, without saying a word or looking at her.
"Terra?" she gasped, her fist to her heart. It hurt to breathe.
He stopped, and finally looked at her with his red-rimmed eyes. Whenever he cried, his deep blue irises looked dead, like waste at the bottom of the sea floor. They were panicked, and his legs trembled, like it took all the grit he had to face her.
Without a word, he hugged her with one arm - tightly, crushing her against his chest. He smelled not of soap, not of sweat, but of himself, something earthy and baked in yeast.
He let go. He left, his shoulders turning over his doorway. It all happened so fast, and she couldn't hear her heart beating. It was possible it stopped, and the only thing keeping her alive was the hope he would turn back.
Chirithy found its way out of the labyrinth of overturned sheets. Instead of muttering about how rude Terra was, it opted to take a moment of silence.
The best thing to do, the only thing left for her to do, was simply to live the day like it was second nature. Aqua performed rhythmically and cooked breakfast like normal, not registering anything between cracking the eggs and serving them to Ven.
She gathered books from a specific section in the library about dreams, but didn't read more than their titles. All she thought about was Terra's shoulders disappearing.
She repeated words to herself, words that spoke of why the past didn't matter now that they had a future to look forward to, words that would make it all okay whenever Terra eventually came home at sundown.
But he never did. He wouldn't for days.
Aqua brewed flavorless tea. She stopped caring about brushing her hair, and while she thought about seeking some new adventure in a world she'd never seen, Aqua wasn't ready to close all doors yet. She always left one open for Terra. She hoped he knew.
She trudged through her days with practice, like getting her smile right so Ven wouldn't worry. Her saving grace was staying busy, and she found her biggest challenge in establishing the Land of Departure as a school for new Keyblade wielders.
There was a lot riding on her shoulders now: choosing which books to assign, scheduling a strict list of combat techniques based on rank, and organizing an entire curriculum of political science, astronomy, and history that her Master subjected them to years ago. She burned hours planning chapters, assignments, discussion topics...
And then some. She had no idea if Darkness should be taught formally in her classrooms. There wasn't a single book about it in the library except for a witnessed history of demons of the past, before Heartless and Unversed.
Sitting at her vanity table, her curtains drawn to let the sunlight in, Aqua held an unappreciated copy of Affairs of the Heart by the Master of Masters, and wondered if it was worth the misery of assigning. She wondered what Terra thought about it. She wondered how often Terra thought about her. Against her better judgment, she missed him every hour.
Ven knocked on her door even though it was ajar. Chirithy rode on his shoulders, paws in his hair.
"Everything is finally done," he sighed, and counted on his fingers. "The new small library is set up and ready to go; I made every bed in the eastern wing - and very neatly like you asked; we now have three classrooms instead of two; and I emptied some of the lounges so they can be renovated into studios for private practice."
He had shallow bags under his eyes and a tired smirk. "If you ask me to move one more piece of furniture, I swear I will dye your hair black."
"Well, I did realize an hour ago that we need a cafeteria," Aqua hummed.
His face fell.
"I'm joking, Ven."
"Don't test me." He looked over her shoulder at her detailed plans, spotting the aforementioned book and glowering. "No. Not that one."
Chirithy hopped onto her desk, and Aqua straightened her posture. Ever since that particular morning, she aimed to seem as professional as possible. It stood next to a piece of parchment with a list of considered texts. Affairs of the Heart had a question mark next to its title.
"These are the most important teachings," it said.
"She should cross it off and pretend it never existed." When Aqua didn't, Ven scowled. "Don't you want your new students to like you? Why torture them with it?"
Because it was the root of all theory relating to Keyblades and hearts. Because that was where all books written since had started. Looking back on it now, maybe only half of it was relevant, and its archaic language made it a drag… but it still felt wrong to act like it was useless.
"I won't assign the entire thing," she said, bringing her hand up to swear in honor. She had to admit, it was entertaining to see how deeply disturbed he was about this.
"If Terra was here, it'd be a tie."
Aqua's heart plummeted, and the sight of it softened Ven.
"...How is Terra?" she managed to ask.
Apparently, he found living arrangements - between Radiant Garden and Twilight Town, living with Riku and Isa. Aqua heard through the grapevine.
"He's fine," Ven drawled, a question of Why don't you ask him? patiently sitting in the weight of his voice. Pulling his Gummiphone out of his pocket, Ven scrolled through some photos, handing it over when he found what he was looking for.
In the picture, a penitent Terra tried to comfort Merlin, who lurched backward with a bulging, frozen expression of shock and anguish at the bursts of fire that gripped his long, white beard. It was taken at the worst time, capturing everyone at bad angles.
Ven chortled. "It was an accident. He was trying to get those crystals to work."
"Those crystals-"
Ven waved his hands at her dismissively. "Whatever you think they are, trust me, they aren't."
It pained her to see how much he knew that she didn't.
When she didn't laugh with him, Ven gently put the Gummiphone away. "Don't you ever send him messages?"
"I did."
He gaped at her.
"Terra doesn't always answer. When he does, he says he's fine," she continued.
He rolled his eyes.
"All I did was ask how he was doing," she finished.
"You know Terra is kind of an idiot." Ven palmed his face. "He reads too much into things."
"I made sure I didn't push it. I don't want to ruin his peace."
"Maybe that's exactly why he's being distant. Maybe he thinks you're better off without him."
"Did... Did he say anything to you?"
"You mean about the night before he left? No. Nothing."
So there were still things Ven didn't know. Had it always been like this, where two held onto something the third didn't belong to?
Aqua nearly said something about it, but shut Ven outside that particular door.
"It's not really a big deal," she said.
"You're lying-"
"I'm not."
"To yourself," he said, swallowing hard. Twelve years ago, he struggled to face her directly when he was afraid of offending her. He glanced at her vanity mirror, covered by a dull, white sheet because Aqua never took it off even to wash.
She hated how much it nerved him to be honest with her.
Chirithy replied without prompt, "Go on, Ven." Only around Ven did it sound that cute and sweet. "Tell her what you've been thinking about."
With that, Ven rummaged through her top drawer and pulled out a hairbrush. "I don't have the same mind-reading grace Terra has with you, so can I stick my neck out here and ask if I can take care of you for a little bit?"
She huffed, closing her eyes.
"You'll feel better afterwards," he continued, flipping the brush in his hand like it was a toy. "I want to make you feel better, I just don't know how." He almost whispered, "I want to be a good friend now that Terra's not here."
He said all the words that made her want to vehemently deny she needed any help, and nearly kicked him out of her room. He said he wanted to be a good friend, and he always, always was when she needed him to be. How could he think he was useless?
Wordlessly, she straightened out in her chair and brought her hands to her lap. Ven was a bit too excited.
The brush caught several knots, really sticking to the back of her head. Ven tried to be careful, but it stung anyway.
Aqua had lost count of the days she decided to let it all go. Ven never said a word about her condition or her appearance, letting her spar with him and make commands about the future of their home without questioning her sanity.
If Terra was here, he'd tell her he was proud, and the thought wretched at her insides. Again, she remembered his shoulders, walking away.
"Terra is still your friend," Chirithy chirped up, surprising her. "He can't forget that. It's his duty as Keyblade wielder to remember his friends and stand by them."
Ven snorted. "Terra and Aqua are so much more than that."
Aqua blushed, her breath shutting to a halt. She quickly shook her head. "He's exaggerating-"
"Did you know they're married?" Ven asked Chirithy.
"We are not. Where did you get a crazy idea like that?"
She turned her head to glare at him but he held it steady. She expected him to say something embarrassing like, Have you seen the way you act around each other? Or, You bicker like you are.
But he said, "Terra told me."
If this was supposed to be funny, it wasn't clever. "When did he say this?"
"Shortly after I started talking again."
Ven had to have been eleven. "Clearly, he was joking around with you."
"No, he wasn't. He was totally serious!" Ven continued his brushing, hiccuping on a laugh. "He made me promise not to say anything because the Master didn't even know."
"A secret marriage," Chirithy pondered. "That's quite a bond like no other."
Ven guffawed.
Aqua held a finger up, and the entire room quieted, leaning in as if anticipating doctrine from her hand. She was at a loss for words. Of course she and Terra shared a close, unbreakable bond, but this was the wrong idea.
"That's a little inaccurate," she started.
"So it's true?!" Ven stopped brushing.
"No, we were children."
"Huh?"
"We used to make believe we were adults sometimes, and pretended all sorts of things, like running a store, or being at war," she said, melting into chuckles. The memories came to her like a bedtime story, vivid and warm. "I was maybe eight years old."
Ven put down the brush on her table. "So because adults got married, it made for good role play?"
"Exactly. It wasn't real." She remembered the awning weaved of loose sticks in the woods. He wore a black cotton shirt and she didn't have a white dress, but a cream one. She had one wildflower in her hair, and a bouquet of pretty weeds. "We exchanged plastic rings I had as toys," she laughed, "and we thought the kiss was disgusting."
Terra had blown raspberries and spit slobber into the dirt, sticking his tongue out. She had wiped her mouth with her forearm, wincing. Neither of them understood why adults thought it was a good idea.
"I bet he wouldn't think that now," Ven said and dodged her elbow.
Chirithy held a paw to its chin. "Did you exchange vows?" it asked, and Ven sniggered.
"We took a book from the library and read off of that," she said, like it was the most logical thing they could have done.
"That makes it official," said Ven.
"I agree," said Chirithy.
"I bet it was her idea."
Aqua swallowed, and held her chin high. "I don't remember," she lied.
Ven scoffed. "I think Terra still considers you his wife, and I don't know anyone who would object to that."
If that was true… Aqua wasn't sure she'd object to that so openly, either. She focused on the grooves on the wood of her desk, willing away the heat in her cheeks.
"What do you think?" Ven asked Chirithy of her hair. A change of subject couldn't come quickly enough.
"She looks better already," it said bluntly.
"Cheers, don't be rude," said Ven, but his voice quavered with giggles.
"Well, you do," Chirithy said to Aqua, like she needed the reassurance.
Aqua shifted in her seat. She didn't appreciate being spoken to like she needed a description of herself.
It would be such a simple gesture to tug the sheet down, and shake off the dust.
Ven moved over to her side with a pep to his step, grabbing a chunk of her hair. "Can you teach me how to do braids?"
"Oh, my hair is a bit short for that..." She stopped. She couldn't disappoint such an eager face. "Well, you split the portion into three parts. You cross one - doesn't matter which one - over the middle. Then you take the opposite side and cross it over the middle. And you keep going. That's it."
Ven bit his tongue as he worked, staring holes as he pulled at her hair to his eyes, following her instructions too deliberately. She never noticed it before, but Ven enjoyed fussing over her.
"I've played with dolls before," Ven said, "but this is more fun."
Aqua's nostrils flared over the comparison. A smile on his face was worth it, she told herself.
"I need practice," he mumbled, opening her drawer to pull a white ribbon out and tie it off. He grabbed another chunk of hair behind her head.
She wished she could see what he was doing. Ven always smiled with such feverish enthusiasm that it was contagious. She tried to crane her neck and use her peripheral vision, but he nagged at her to stay in place.
"I'll take a pic when I'm done," he said, pulling a red ribbon out of her drawer.
Aqua gripped her fists. This was getting a bit much, being treated like she was delicate and volatile.
Her boys acted like freedom was such an easy thing to grasp. Tapping her fingers on her desk, she trepidly reached over and grabbed the sheet over her mirror.
"Aqua?"
She let go. Trying too much too fast was probably a bad idea.
She wondered what they assumed. They handled her quirks with such nervous anticipation, it exhausted her to watch them tread on eggshells so much.
"Sorry," she sighed, crossing her legs and arms, lacing that desperate need to keep composed all the way to the crown of her head. It wasn't necessary to worry him so much.
Ven stopped his braiding anyway, and she waited long enough for him to get the idea and continue.
She said, "That was dumb of me. There's no telling what it would do."
"What would what do?" Ven asked with a nervous shiver. She couldn't tell if Chirithy was even hearing the conversation.
"My reflection."
Ven paused before remembering the black ribbon pinched in his fingers.
Aqua had to scoff at herself. "The Realm of Darkness-" Where should she start?
Ven listened, twisting and tugging.
"My reflection would… say things."
"Was she scary?" he asked in a voice so soft, it was like a small hug.
Aqua didn't know how to answer that. Fighting an enemy was always a risk, but the high she experienced when she won was addicting, and made it easy to pursue perfection in the battlefield.
They were all raised to brave the onslaught, but real bravery was listening to herself whisper terrible truths and keeping faith on the contrary.
"She was strong," Aqua said. "She was everything about me, but worse."
"So would a piece of cotton stop her from crashing in here and killing us all?" Chirithy asked, lordly tugging at the sheet and letting it go. Ven inhaled sharply.
"It wouldn't. I know it wouldn't, I know." Aqua splayed her hands at her desk. Being so afraid of something that didn't exist anymore was nothing to be proud of. And she reminded herself of this so many times, how could they not see that?
Ven used green to seal a braid, before gently taking another sliver of hair over her other ear.
"Don't hate me for asking, but," Ven said, weaving weakly so that this one limped, "does she still hurt you?"
"Sometimes." It sounded false coming out of her mouth. She didn't mention the nights she listened to tap tap tap on glass, or to scratching when she didn't reply.
"Then I should beat her up," Ven said with a tough edge to his voice, wrapping this last braid with lavender.
Aqua let a half-smirk hang on her face. "That's the easy part."
"I'm not intimidated." He had fists on his hips, puffing his chest out like he was supposed to imitate Terra or something.
Was he trying to humor her?
She played along well so far, might as well continue. "Good. We'll be together. It won't be so bad this time."
Encouraged, Ven grabbed a fistful of the sheet, waiting for her signal. "Just say the word. We got this."
Her heart skipped a beat. This was too fast. She nearly followed instinct and yanked his hand away but stopped the moment she choked on a sob. Ven was earnest, the same glint in his eye every time he dared them to a duel, even when he suspected he'd lose.
It didn't matter if they both knew there was nothing on the other side, he was ready to fight with her.
After two long, shaky breaths, Aqua glared at the fabric. Grabbed a handful of her own, and threw it off.
She didn't blink. She didn't look away - that was most dangerous when facing an enemy. The moment she met herself face to face, she gasped, blue eyes on blue eyes, the same dark circles, the same upward curl of her brows, the same exhale that melted into hot tears that birthed the tiniest laugh.
Ven gesticulated at the reflection, giving it a grand entrance. "What is this? I was expecting a real challenge, but she looks ridiculous."
She really did look like she was trying to be a clown with all the mismatched ribbons. The braid that stuck out from behind one ear was thicker than her finger, pulling at her scalp. The other limped like a rat's tail. Touching the back of her head, she felt a lumpy one that was uneven, another short and stocky, and the fifth one curved and twisted.
Part of her wondered if this was Ven's plan all along, but he didn't have that kind of foresight.
Didn't matter, she never felt this marvelous in front of a mirror before.
"Thank you, Ven," she whispered, the joy she felt suddenly whiplashing into more tears. The taste of freedom was salty.
Ven hugged her around the shoulders, his cheek to hers, his tears cold. Aqua gripped his arms, prompting him to hold her tighter. Neither of their counterparts moved a muscle they weren't supposed to, smudge-free.
"Glad you're back," Ven sniffed, and she nodded.
Even Chirithy was moved. "Turning nightmares into dreams," it said to itself, nuzzling its snout.
"Come here, Cheers," Ven said, rubbing his eyes with his forearms. "Your Gummiphone, Aqua?"
It was in her pocket. Ven opened it, swiping his thumb all sorts of directions.
"I promised a picture." With Chirithy taking its place on Aqua's left side, Ven pointed the camera directly at the mirror and leaned toward her right. "Everybody smile."
For him, smiling came natural. Aqua thought she looked so weird - was it the smile that changed, or did she forget what she looked like?
If anything, she looked tired, her braids drooping more by the second.
Ven handed the Gummiphone back. "You should send it to Terra."
It sounded closer to a command than a wink or a nudge in the right direction. Aqua kept her mouth shut. She had no idea what to write.
Throwing himself onto her bed, Ven stared at her ceiling and went quiet, as if he was giving her space. Chirithy soon joined him, charging onto his stomach and into his trusting arms with squeaks and giggles.
Aqua opened her phone to their last messages, and stared. There was no proper follow up she could think of from their short mutual archive.
From two weeks ago, just after he left:
Aqua
I don't know how to fix this
Come home and we could talk about it?
Please
Five days ago:
Aqua
I want you to know that I'm not angry with you
Okay? I just want you to know
Please hear me
The day after:
Aqua
I'm worried about you
Finally, he responded:
Terra
Working with the others dont worry
They know to call you if something happens
Attaching Ven's picture to an empty message, Aqua hovered her fingers over the keys on the screen. She didn't want to beg for his attention.
Aqua
Made some strides today
She sent it with the picture. It still felt like begging.
Long minutes passed. She knew not to expect anything; he was probably talking to someone else, or spending time alone absorbed in that crystal project.
She knew to swallow and set the phone down. She knew that hearing nothing could have meant many things, but her heart sank anyway, withstanding the pressure of ten oceans from the mere thought of bothering him.
Then a ting, and Ven stood up, his eyebrows energized by the signal of a message incoming.
Terra
Good look for you
She stared wide-eyed at the screen. The words sounded normal. But was he just as nervous as she was? Was he trying to make her feel better at his expense? Without looking into his eyes, it was so hard to tell.
Aqua
Think I should keep it?
Terra
absolutely
That was the end of that conversation.
Night rain streaked her window. It was the only indication that she was still home, in her real bedroom, in front of a real mirror, and she depended on it to last a while.
Naked and with smoothly brushed hair, Aqua studied her skin. The Realm of Darkness preserved her. The scruffs on her arms were from distant years of training. Whatever hordes of Heartless trashed on her no longer left a reminder, as if the last twelve years never existed, except in her mind.
That was the only difference: her face. Darkness left its only mark there.
Aqua twerked her lips and narrowed her eyes; there was no way a menacing enemy would make funny faces like this. Her face was still hers.
Her eyes were still blue, but there was an empty, faraway look that she couldn't bring back.
Her smile was still warm, but it strained with the weight of a ton.
Did she look like this every single day? No wonder her boys expressed concern.
She didn't know how to fix it. Slowly, she pulled on shorts and a simple shirt for the night. Her reflection looked tired - not tired from a whole day spent, but tired like she was done.
Aqua braved one final test: waving at herself. It was foolish to beckon something so dangerous, but she had a strong Keyblade, and a stronger need to make sure.
Her reflection waved back, just as frightened.
Still, there was a tiny, weary gasp in her heart that stayed suspicious. Sighing, Aqua draped a clean sheet over it, and cast Reflega. Like locking the front door to ward off strangers, it was a small and life-saving measure.
A knock on her door.
She was ready to explain her decision to Ven when she opened it, but she had to look up.
"Terra," she breathed, her heart in her throat.
He was still dressed but barefoot, leaning on her door frame with his face half-hidden behind the wall. Eyes on the floor, he raised them to her shoulder, a well-worn frown on his face.
"I'm ready to talk."
She wanted to throw her arms around him. She wanted to shake him senseless. She wanted to slap his face.
But Aqua had to smile. In her opinion, she couldn't control the way it stretched to her eyes and made her cheeks throb. "Of course. Please." She opened the door further to allow him to step through, then closed it.
Terra gazed around the room with his arms crossed, finding a belittled spot for himself as he leaned onto her vanity table. He caught sight of Affairs of the Heart, and it brought a chuckle to his throat.
Aqua stood across from him, hands to her chest to keep her heart in place. "Brings back memories, doesn't it?"
He shook his head as he inspected the front and back cover. "Stupid book," he muttered.
"No argument here."
He didn't return the nostalgia in her voice. He kept his gaze low, cradling the book in his large hands and spinning pages. "Sometimes, I thought about this book and how it said we needed to balance our vulnerability to be strong."
"Yes." She fiddled with her fingers. Talking about this book was the last thing she wanted or expected, but if that was a way to get him comfortable, so be it. "How we should wield the Light to illuminate the way forward if we ever wanted to free it from the Darkness."
"No." His shoulders swelled with confidence in picking at her words, like they were back in the classroom. The Terra she knew crept into his eyes inch by inch. "The point was to illuminate the pain inflicted into our hearts from the past. It wasn't about freeing it. It was about living with it."
That was nothing like what the Master taught them, even though the Aqua of today agreed with that statement.
"I think you're mistaken," she said, crossing her arms. "The pain of our past is only made of Darkness, and prioritizing the Light over what had a hold on us proved our strength."
"It didn't say that. I think this whole book was really a misdirection." The more he spoke, the more invested he became. "Our ability to make Light out of our past was the only way to see through the Darkness coming at us."
"Are you sure you and I read the same book?"
The challenge encouraged him, and she smirked. They were falling into their natural groove, something embedded deep within their understructure that couldn't be torn down. Aqua found comfort in that.
"I'm going to find the passage," he said, scanning with his finger, "and when I do, I'll rub your face in it."
He finally locked eyes with her, his laugh meek and intimidated. Then the realization took over: they were not living the joy of yesterday.
Aqua, too, lost her resolve to keep her smile plastered to her face.
They were only a few paces apart, but the wall between them spread for miles.
"I've missed you," she said.
"I've missed you, too." He let go of whatever kept him calm, a dam near bursting. "You have no idea how much."
Her mouth hung open. He surprised her with such vulnerability, and she never thought that he'd be the braver one between the two. She wanted to tell him that she missed him more, and one-up him every time he tried to beat her at her own game. But three words stayed where they were, buried in her chest.
Terra leaned back, taking notice of her ceiling. He shook his head once. He shook it again and he choked. "This is harder than those damn crystals."
Aqua stepped next to him, brushing the pads of her fingers against the wood of her table. She listened.
"I don't know where to start," he continued. He curled one fist, the other hand not sure whether to grab at his face or hit something. "I don't know how to explain what exactly happened between us."
She spoke to him the only way she knew how when he was like this: by lifting his spirits. "Remember when the Master used to tell us to put our heads together when we were stumped?"
His groan wrestled a chuckle. "How long has it been since we've tried that?"
"I was probably ten so…" Only a solemn truth came to mind. "Twenty years ago."
Terra let out a long, slow exhale, brushing his hair back.
Aqua held his elbow, and there was the faintest trace of a flinch. "You want to try?"
To know someone for so many years meant she could recognize the lowering of his defenses the minute she asked. He was tempted to raise them back up, and he battled with himself.
"Sure."
She led the way to her mattress, and they faced each other cross-legged, his hands on his lap before taking hers. They brought their foreheads together. Aqua hoped that this way, they would finally tear that wall between them, brick by brick; they only needed to know which one to pull out first.
He smelled of foreign shampoo, sharp like citrus instead of the alluring musk he preferred. His lashes were so long, they grazed his cheekbones, and his eyes darted in all directions, finding her, her lips, her window, her carpet.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, her breath rustling through his bangs. He'd feel more comfortable that way.
For a while, they brought the silence to a standstill. She thought about questions she could ask, and he thought hard, trembling.
His breathing became ragged, his nostrils flaring in and out. His voice shattered. "I don't know how you can stand to be around me."
Such a statement ravaged her. She fought back her tears - she shouldn't have expected anything less from Terra.
She had to start the conversation for both of their sakes.
"Why?" she gasped. "Why did the Guardian attack me?"
"I was following orders." He shrunk away, and she held him firmly. "No, no, that sounds awful."
"Terra…" The lump in her throat was a warning; she was going to fall apart and when she did, he would tumble all the way down.
"I- I…" He licked his lips. "I spent so long - only the stars know for how long - sitting in the Darkness. There was nothing, you know? Nothing. When I finally heard a voice, I asked him - I begged him - to help me."
She clenched every muscle in her body. She couldn't fall apart.
Terra continued, "And he had answers for me. He said if I could take enough Light, I could free myself… I just didn't know what that meant.
"Most of the time, I didn't know where I was. It wasn't like I could see anything. Sometimes I heard other voices, and their presence made me hesitate. But when I did, he'd lash back at me for not obeying. I can't describe it, I was being sliced at my fingertips by something on fire, or...
"I don't know, Aqua. I was exhausted all the time." He lost half of his voice, his eyelashes chunky of the tears cascading down his face before dropping onto his lap.
He went on, "And I was angry. Nothing worked. Anytime I had Light in my grasp, it never helped. Everything I knew about the Light, I started to question. Why did it abandon me? Looking at it infuriated me, and sometimes I went after it without having to be commanded, which pleased him… only to end up empty-handed and dejected for all my efforts. Sometimes I went after myself to repent to the Light, and it never replied." Terra gave a hollow, sickly chortle. "That pleased him just as much. Nothing I did was ever enough, and I stayed being his houndog.
"I thought maybe if I was angry enough, if I hated myself enough, I could gather enough Darkness and turn on him," he sobbed. "But every time I cursed my own stupid mistakes, he had a stronger hold on me. Every time I fought back, I was set on fire. If I screamed, I had a needle and thread ready to sew my own mouth shut. I can't tell if he actually made me punish myself or if it was him all along. It became easier to listen to him than to fight.
"But you…" He took a breath. "I didn't know, I'm so sorry."
With her thumbs, Aqua rubbed circles into his palms. "What did you see?" she asked softly, afraid that if she asked too loud, it would scare him into a frenzy.
He trembled.
"It's okay," she said. "Please."
"A bright light, the brightest I've ever seen. I thought this time, surely, it would all be over, if I could just have it."
He exhaled before he continued, "I knew something was wrong the moment I tried to hold it."
With that, he finished. He had an urge to pull away, his teeth locked and holding more sobs in.
Her hands squeezed his. He didn't have to be afraid of what she had to say.
"I don't blame you for this, Terra."
A sharp inhale. "Why not?"
"Because I understand what it's like-"
"Because of me."
"You have to listen to me." She pulled apart from him and held his face, staring hard at his red and swollen eyes. "I watched you break those chains. I watched you pull apart those bindings, and tell Xehanort that you'd protect us."
She shook his stunned face to make sure he got the message, and continued, "I couldn't do better. I needed Sora to beat me on the head with his Keyblade before I could let go. He did everything for me."
Aqua hated this. She only ever thought of falling apart as something that left her vulnerable to a predator.
"When I was under," she said, leveling her voice because she was going to pick herself up, whether her body produced a waterfall of tears or not, dammit. "I wanted Riku and Sora to feel every single ounce of loneliness that I felt. I didn't care about their feelings or if they hurt - it wouldn't have compared to what I went through. I was ready to pull them by their hair strands and drag them into the ocean. No one understood what it was like, and I needed someone to know. I needed someone to listen to me."
She scoffed with the taste of something poisonous, and said, "What would the Master have said about me? I only held myself up because I thought I was worthy enough. He deemed me so. I couldn't be weak and let go, but standing tall left me wobbling any time I was breaking… If it wasn't the Guardian, it could have been something else. It could have been me. I thought about giving up so often.
"Going under finally gave me an outing I denied myself, to let it all out. I didn't think I could stoop that low, but I was angry, too. There was no reason I had to suffer that much for that long… How dare they waltz in on me when it was already too late."
Terra gaped. "That doesn't sound like you," he whispered.
"Ha," she tisked. "Using me for your own gain - hurting me at all - doesn't sound like you, either. You're gentle, Terra. You strut like you could break marble, and maybe you could, but you couldn't truly hurt me in your right mind. You'd never. I believe that. There's nothing for me to do but to know that."
He looked away. "Aqua…"
"I'm Keeper of the castle because of tradition." She stroked his face. "But the Master asked you to look after us."
He winced. "I'm not the favorite-"
"It's not about that." She gripped his shirt with her fists. "It's because of your heart, Terra. You know that, you know it deep in your soul.
"And if you don't know it," she stabbed at his chest with her finger, "I'll make you know it. Your sweetness, your need to protect: it's the only reason why you breathe. I know this because everything you've ever done - even if it was down the wrong path, even if it was undeniably stupid - it was to help us."
When she unraveled, she let loose an avalanche, weakly beating his shoulder with a fist.
It was Terra's turn to hold her face, wiping her tears with the back of his fingers, again and again. They wouldn't stop; she didn't know how. Everything about this felt like she snapped a bunch of wires that held her up.
"You survived," he said softly, shushing her weeping. "You can't put all that strength onto my shoulders when you were the one who carried Ven home. In a twisted way, you carried me to safety, too. There was no way I could have made it in the Realm of Darkness. You're the strongest one. Always."
She sobbed. Her nose was so stuffy, she couldn't breathe. All the bricks were undone.
Aqua threw her arms around his neck. They were buttresses on wood rot, shakily propping up whatever was left of each other. Every once in a while, they gasped for breath like their bodies had neglected the tears, but together they endured, waiting until their emotional intoxication dried out.
"I survived to get my family back, my home," she said in broken pants into his shirt. "But I can't have that if you're gone."
Aqua now wanted to rebuild, but instead of between them, around them. A shelter.
He heard her this time, and though she hated to let him stray an inch farther from her, he pulled away to ask, "Can I stay here?"
Nothing taught her that it was possible to smile with so much guilt. He would've had better sleep where he stayed, in a sound, dark room. "The lights…"
He rubbed her arms. The growing smile on his face, though it sprouted slowly, was genuine. "You did good with the mirror earlier."
She paused, unable to look at him. "I spent so long in the Realm of Darkness, I don't know how much of me is still there. I don't think there is anyone or anything who knows me better now. I can't tell what's in a shadow." Or where that other Chirithy was, she thought. "They're in every room, and the bigger the room, the deeper they spread. What if they're waiting to claw me back down?"
She shivered. She sounded crazy.
"Let me do something for you." When she started to reject him, he leaned forward and reiterated, "Please. I have to make amends."
"Terra, that's not necessary."
One look told her that he wouldn't relent.
A sinking feeling deep down knew he was going to throw himself into a lifetime of atonement, and she didn't want to be the harbinger of such a fate. But if she wanted to build a new foundation with him, she'd have to let him go for a little while, and stop him before it went too far.
"Okay."
His final line of defense melted. "I'll be back."
When he left, the room had nothing but a soft rumble of thunder from far away. Aqua wiped her face and raked her hair with her fingers, straightening out her shirt. She had enough of unraveling for the night.
When he came back, he brought with him the shuffling sound of something heavy and the clinking of metal dragging on the tile.
He threw a bundle of fabric on her and she yelped, searching her bed underneath for shadows now that she was blocked from both her ceiling light and her table lamp.
She could see well enough. She was safe.
"What are you supposed to be doing?" she asked.
"You'll see." There was a tease in his words. He was slowly going back to normal.
It was a tent. Setting it upright by tying rope at the peak, Terra stood on her mattress; the only thing he could attach it to was her ceiling fan.
Then he crawled around her and tied the ends to the four corners of her bedpost, stuffing them with pillows to make walls out of them, giving her plenty of room to stretch out her legs. The opening flaps of the tent hung against the wall to her window.
He meant to make her space smaller, and she had to admit the filter from the sharp glare of her ceiling light was already coaxing.
When what became a formidable pillow fort was finished, Terra pushed through the fabric from the outside, ruffling her hair.
"I'm going to turn off the light," he said clearly. Feeling her jerk, he said, "We'll keep the lamp on your nightstand on. That should be enough to let you see."
She didn't say anything in return. He waited, anticipating permission to continue.
"If it's too dark," he said, "I'll turn it back on."
"'Kay."
She held her breath as his footsteps shuffled across, gripping her sheets and on the edge of calling her Keyblade for the dreadful sound of her light switch flicking.
There it went. Aqua whirled around for something Dark creeping in. But everything in her tent existed as they should in the presence of soft light. The sheets folded in twirls, and the wood of her bed posts was exposed by complicated knots. She was fine. There was a swooshing sound and a rush of beams as Terra conjured a Reflega over her bedroom door.
Again, the fabric bent inward. Terra took his time before touching her hair to let her know it was him.
He crawled under the back wall of the tent that faced him, a pleased smile on his face. "What do you think?"
"Job well done." Her lips were dry. She loved him.
"I think you'll sleep much better this way."
"... I feel so silly."
"Nah. You're just a handful."
"There's nothing between us and… everything else."
"Are you talking about the shadows?" That smug look she missed so much made its appearance. It was strange to think such a dazzling smile was meant for her. "They'll have to go through me first."
She was aware of his hand on her thigh, warm and gentle. With it, he pulled her towards the bed, tucking her in. Leaning on his elbow, Terra held her closer by the waist, which rattled the thumping in her chest just as hard as she expected.
Yet it brought her solace. She was home.
"I hate to nag on your hard work-" she started.
"You nag anyway."
"But you built it backwards."
"Nope." The hand on her waist left her, to her disappointment, and pulled the opening over her window. The glass was blurred by water. "In case you want to look at the stars before you slept."
After all the crying she had today, it was easy to have a go again. She almost did, watching his faraway look over the clouds that made up the night sky tonight. His jaw was always this strong, his hair always an impeccable mess.
"I love you."
Terra came back to her, his eyes too dark to be blue in such dim lighting. He traced her jaw with his finger, and now she had a sudden electricity at her core, begging to ask him to touch her.
He wasn't even shaken by her words.
She questioned him with a look. As he brushed her hair out her face and inched closer, he flashed an embarrassed smirk.
"There's no way I could deny that," he said, that faraway look coming back, but boring into her. "You plunged into darkness for me."
Aqua swallowed her heart back in.
"When I said that you've never stopped lighting my way back," he continued, "I meant it. There was this tiny, little light that I was never able to touch, but it stayed with me every second. My own private star. It was the only tether I had that helped me remember my name."
His thumb grazed her bottom lip, and she breathed. "You're saying-?"
"I've loved you for seventeen years."
His kiss was tender and careful, his desperation withdrawn until she parted her lips to let him express something more needy. She let his hand trail down her collarbone while he let her fingers dig into his thick hair. He murmured into her neck, and the frayed threads that strained to tie her together came undone, making her forget everything that existed outside.
They didn't know how to touch each other, but they learned so much within an hour, foolish to expect sleep to come any sooner.
Shelter wasn't made of bricks or even of this tent, but of his body caged around her: his lidded gaze on her, his nervous chuckles hot on her face, his hands on her waist, his smile into her mouth, his fingers knitted into hers, his weight on her bare thighs, forehead to forehead.
Their bodies pressed tighter, clasping a delicate secret they exchanged in gasps.