Sora slipped into the darkness of his apartment, gently easing the door shut. He stood there, his heavy breathing filling the silence. He shook his head fervently, swaying from side to side; there was a rumbling discontent in his stomach. He entered the bathroom and without bothering to flick on the light switch, turned on the shower, stepping into the tub and allowing the hot water to run down his face, flattening his unruly hair. The steam quickly enveloped him and he stood rigidly in place, staring at the tiles on the wall and finding that his limbs would not move easily.

He did not think. He did not ponder. He did not reflect. Instead he rested his forehead against the wall, breathing in the wispy warm air, in, out, in, out. The darkness was all encompassing.

Minutes passed. Perhaps an hour. Sora did not move, his eyes remained tightly shut, waiting for the tension in his arms, legs, shoulders, chest, to leave him. Eventually it did.

He turned the shower off and collected his clothes, his jeans heavier with the weight of the munny stuffed carelessly into its pockets. Sora threw them on, caring not for comfort, but to simply leave the waking world, if only for a little while. He walked into his room and threw himself onto his mattress, burying his head deeply into his pillow.

Sleep came for him.

He awoke to the peculiar scent of bacon. Sora lifted himself from his bed, squinting as rays of sunlight hit his face. He took a breath and felt something akin to a cramp in response. He looked down, surprised to find a deep scar that marked his chest. Right above his heart. He took the munny from his pockets and stuffed them under the mattress.

Sora crossed to the bathroom and eyed himself in the mirror. It was a scar, alright. Somewhat faded but certainly prominent, as if he had been slashed by something sharp and powerful. He touched it and it prickled uncomfortably. He threw on a shirt and walked out into the hall, the smell of breakfast filling the air.

Sora was even more surprised to see Naminé, her back turned, working their tiny little stove with evident determination. He took a seat at the table and she looked over at him, her mouth turning up into a pleasant smile.

"Oh," she said, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, "I thought you were still sleeping."

Sora studied her face. Soft, warm, kind. No hint of judgement or repulsion. Was it to make him feel better? Did she not hold what he had done against him?

"Roxas went out to get some food," she informed, "he should be back soon."

Sora nodded, tapping his fingers against the table.

"Sorry," Naminé laughed nervously, handling the pan in her mitt covered hands with feminine grace, "I guess you didn't know I stayed the night."

"Fine by me," he shrugged. "What's up with you two, anyway?"

"We're together," she beamed, clearly glad to hear herself say it.

"That's great," he said.

His lack of enthusiasm did not go unnoticed. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Just then they heard the door click behind them, and Roxas came bounding in. He strolled into the kitchen, giving Naminé a peck on the cheek and ruffling his brother's hair. Clearly, he was in a good mood.

"Hey," he said to Sora, "when did you get home? I heard the shower going on for a while, wasn't sure if I was dreaming."

"Not too late," Sora replied. Roxas did not appear overly concerned with pressing the issue any further than that, for which he was glad. Roxas placed some groceries on the table and went to work filling their fridge. When he was done, he whiffed the air dramatically.

"That smells great," he said, sliding up behind Naminé and squeezing her thigh affectionately.

"Roxas," she gasped, blushing madly.

"What?" he murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of her neck.

The two of them dallied playfully and Sora looked away. He wasn't sure how much more he could watch. A tremendously nervous feeling was taking hold within him, a dire inevitably that could not be reversed.

Naminé could cook, that much he managed to gather. Eggs and bacon with some cranberry juice. Sora couldn't remember the last time he had gorged on such a filling breakfast. Strange enough, given that his stomach was always reaching out, always demanding he munch on more.

Eventually she had to go, after much fanfare and mock protests on Roxas' part. They kissed, their lips briefly touching and then pulling apart, both of their cheeks turning a rosy pink; the uncertain and ephemeral nature of young love in efflorescence. Sora felt a nostalgic pang in his heart.

He wanted to leave too. He knew what was coming, and any semblance of bravery within him was tamped down by the fear rising inside him. Roxas watched her descend the stairs, Sora heard him tell her to be careful, he listened to Roxas closing the door, turning back to him, asking him questions.

"Sora?" Roxas waved a hand in front of his face.

"Huh?" he looked up at his brother's curious eyes.

"I asked if you're ready to go."

"Go?" the question hung like feet over a pier.

"To school. Jeeze, you're really out of it this morning. Did you hit your head or something?"

It occurred to Sora just how much his brother didn't know.

There was a knock at the door. Sora froze, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. The scar on his chest burned.

"I'll get it," he heard Roxas say. Muffled, like it was coming from some other plane of existence. Sora did not move.

He heard Yen Sid's solemn tone, he heard Roxas, first angry, shrill, denying, then pleading. Some more hushed words were exchanged, and he heard the door slowly creak back to a close. Sora stood from his seat and faced his brother.

It was the longest silence that Sora had ever endured. It was also the loudest.

The tears had already welled up in Roxas's eyes, threatening a torrential spillover.

"S-She's…"

Sora took a step towards him. Just one step.

"Mom's…"

Sora wanted to look away so badly. So very badly. But he could not give himself up. Not here. Not ever.

"She's dea-"

Roxas choked on a sob and it was all over. The tears fell in waves, his sobs growing louder, painful, more desperate.

"She's dead."

Roxas collapsed in his arms, crying against his chest. Sora felt the wetness soaking into his shirt; he backed up and sat them on the couch, pulling Roxas into a tight hug.

"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed, rocking him back and forth like a baby, smoothing over his similarly spiky hair. They were twins, after all.

"It's going to be okay."

Sora dozed on the couch, not quite able to reclaim the mantle of slumber. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, his shoulders tightly wound. It was only the weight of the world. He could hear Roxas' distressed mumblings down the hall. The boy had cried himself to sleep.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he considered leaving it, but its insistent vibrations forced him to check. A message from Kairi. His heart leapt.

Where are you?

He wasn't sure how to answer. They hadn't even called in sick. Less might be more. He typed back.

Home

He waited the mandatory ten seconds and felt the buzz in response.

Everything okay?

The question almost made him laugh. Almost. Was everything okay? Had anything ever been okay? He wondered if he should just tell the truth. His phone buzzed again.

Naminé wants to know where Roxas is.

Sora let out a frustrated breath, listening to Roxas make tortured sounds in his sleep. Nothing would settle. Not now. He didn't want to speak, but he had to. He dialed Kairi's number and waited.

"Hello?" she answered in a hushed whisper, "I'm in class."

"Sorry," Sora said tiredly, "but you should tell Naminé that Roxas isn't coming in today."

"What? Why?"

"Um…" he paused. How to put it?

"Our mom died."

It didn't take long for them to arrive. Sora was sitting on his window sill, his back against the wall, reveling in the cool wind that swam against his face. He heard the door to Roxas' room open, and footsteps come to a halt outside of his.

"Sora?" her soft and delicate voice called out to him. He shut his eyes.

"Sora?" Kairi called again, knocking on his door. When he didn't answer, she took the liberty of opening it herself. She moved across the room to him and Sora felt her hand touch his shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered. She was so close to him, her warm breath tickling his ear. Sora opened his eyes and looked at her.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said, and that much, at least, was honest. "Overdose or something."

Kairi ran her hand up and down his shoulder. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Sora could feel his emotions pulling on him, contorting his mouth as he struggled to keep them at bay.

She did something then, something she hadn't done since he'd been hurt. Wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug, Sora almost lost his balance from the unexpected move. He didn't realize he was crying until she pulled him down to her shoulder and he saw the droplets streaking down her shirt.

"Shhh," she hushed and now it was his turn to hear it. It was his turn to be spoon-fed lies.

"It's going to be okay."

Naminé didn't want to leave, proclaiming that she would not leave Roxas at this tumultuous hour. But the sun went down and the moon went up, and the invisible threat of their parents forced them to leave, Kairi giving him one long look before they walked out the door. To Sora, it looked as if she could see everything, every part of him. All of his fears. All of his lies.

He closed the door behind them and the apartment was overtaken by nothingness yet again. Roxas was sitting on the couch, his hands hung loosely between his legs and he stared ahead, his expression all at once conveying nothing and everything.

Sora felt uncomfortable. He was feeling a lot of that lately. He wanted to say something. Something that would fill this terrible quiet.

"They're gonna send people for us, you know."

Roxas slowly turned to him, expressionless.

"Social services or whatever. What did Yen tell the police?"

Roxas looked down at his hands. "Nothing. He covered for us, he knows we're good for it. We're fine."

"Oh," Sora rubbed the back of neck. "Okay."

Sora began to move towards his room when Roxas suddenly spoke. "I should have given her my bed."

"Huh?" Sora turned to him in confusion.

"When she came home that night. I left her on the couch…I should have…I should have – " his bottom lip trembled.

"Roxas," Sora said sternly, kneeling down in front of him and grabbing both of his shoulders, "it wasn't your fault." Roxas put his head in his hands. "It wasn't."

"We didn't help her," Roxas whispered brokenly, "I didn't help her."

"She didn't help us."

Roxas looked up at him angrily. "She did help us. She raised us, she brought munny back, she…she…"

Sora held his hands up. "I'm not arguing with you, Roxas," he said softly.

Roxas heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face. "We're alone now," he said.

"No," Sora shook his head. "We've got each other. We'll always have that."

He left the room and went to bed.

It was as if he were passing through the Red Sea. The soot covered floor was the sand, the lockers, covered in an abundance of flyers, were the parted waves, and the boy surrounded by his gaggle of adoring fans was Moses himself, tending to his flock.

To Sora it seemed like he was traveling through some kind of teenage wasteland. Day in. Day out. An interminable sea of bobbing heads. Up. Down. Up. Down. Only now, he was more tired than ever. A weight was growing on him, perhaps just short of malaise, but it was there. He ripped the flyer from his locker and looked down at its crumpled form, gripped tightly in his hand.

Riku's Winter Ball

Sora chanced a glance over at Riku himself, still surrounded by enthralled faces and groping hands, reaching desperately for the papers in his hands, and he laughed and passed them out to a select few. Sora squinted. There was something off. Something wrong with his eyes. They betrayed the smooth expression that presently graced his features. It wasn't just the dark purple blotch under his right eye, though that may have certainly played a role. The smile on Riku's face did not match the dullness of his pupils.

Sora was torn from his thoughts by the red head that sidled up next to him. He turned to her, and Kairi looked down at the flyer in his hand inquisitively.

"They're everywhere," he noted.

"They are," she concurred. "Um…I understand if you haven't really thought about it, but…"

Sora looked into her eyes, those swirling pools of anticipation and anxiety. His heart pulsed in his throat and the scar on his chest prickled once more.

"I don't know," he said.

"Oh," Kairi turned away, and it was impossible for her to mask the disappointment in her voice. "Okay."

Sora had second thoughts about returning to the docks. The very idea of returning to those locales, to going out on his own, to handling such damning cargo, was one that filled him with ambivalence. In the end, he pushed those thoughts aside. They needed the munny, he told himself, they would need it soon enough.

This time it was just Demyx waiting for him. He pulled out another bag filled with white powder and handed it to him.

"You ready kid?" he asked. Sora hoped his reluctance was not apparent.

"Yeah," Sora nodded. He went off alone, following the same route as before, meeting with the same dealers, providing them with the same amounts, receiving the same munny. Everything by the books. No unnecessary risks. Every munny pouch that was placed in his hand propelled him forward. When Sora came to that final building he stopped, debating whether or not to enter. He came close, inching forward to the open doorway, a black square that offered no hints as to what lay inside. But Sora knew. It was forever on his shoulders.

He returned to the docks, ahead of schedule. Demyx counted his munny and when he was done and clicked his boots impatiently on the ground and stared hard at Sora.

"You're short."

"I know," Sora said, his eyes focused on the ground between them. "There was no one at the last place."

Demyx watched him, perhaps probing for weakness, a stutter, a slip of the tongue. But Sora spoke with as much conviction as he could muster, and the cloaked man relented.

"Alright," he said, handing Sora his share of the pouches. "Two days," he held up two fingers. Sora nodded and watched him slink off into the shadows between warehouses. He wondered briefly how he arrived here, what had even compelled him to this, then he looked at the munny in his hands and he felt content. Secure.

When he arrived back home he found Roxas sitting on the couch, staring ahead at where their television used to be.

"Roxas?" Sora called softly.

Roxas shifted his attention to him. "What's up?" he asked, giving a strange kind of lopsided smile.

"Um…" Sora looked around the room, searching for something to say. "You tell me."

"Naminé's coming over in a bit," Roxas informed. "We really need to get a new tee-vee."

"Yeah," Sora agreed. "Listen, I uh…I got a job."

Roxas perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, down by Red Hook. Just some manual labor stuff."

"Oh," Roxas turned back to the television stand, "can you do that with your arm?"

Sora held out his splinted arm in front of him. "I think it's fine now, hardly hurts when I move it."

"That's good," Roxas said.

Dull eyes. Dull voice.

He was sitting in History. The lights were dimmed and a movie was playing. The room, aside from a few hushed whispers emanating from the backroom desks, was silent, enraptured by the documentary playing out in front of them.

"They came for us in the night-"

His gaze turned to the back of Riku's head, silver hair shimmering in the rays of light that just managed to squeeze through the shades. There was another circular mark on the back of his neck, peeking out above the cuff of his shirt. Half clouded thoughts of flying fists and bruised knuckles passed through his head. He thought back to Kairi, remembered what she had told him one fine afternoon. A word was materializing, solidifying into existence.

"-they roused us from our beds. They wouldn't let us take anything. Our mother would sing to us as they took us to the station-"

Abuse. Abuse. It rang and echoed in his head. Sora looked at the boy who he was certain he was being groomed to replace.

"-there were a lot of people there. I turned to my mother and asked her where we were going. She looked at me and there were tears in her eyes. She told me we were going somewhere new-"

Blazing red hair danced in the corner of his vision. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, he didn't particularly want to.

"-they put us all on the train. It was a very long ride-"

She was the unknown quantity. The variable that popped in and out of his dreams. One summer ago he didn't know a thing about her. Didn't even know she existed. But there she was, sitting just a few seats ahead of him. She was his friend. She kissed him once, a mistake to be sure, but regardless.

"-there were restless babies and anxious mothers sitting all around us. All the men had gone off to war-"

Requests. There it was again. That sinking feeling. That malaise slithering up from the depths.

"-we stopped outside of building. It was very wide. I didn't know where we were, but my mother looked very frightened-"

Sora closed his eyes, resigned to the historical tides that forced him this way and that.

"-the conductor turned to the guard and I heard him say 'Alright then, let's offload those stealthy Jews from their trains'."

When class had ended Sora quickly caught up to Kairi, catching her by the arm and pulling her to the side of the hall.

"Sora?" she looked at him in surprise.

"I'll go," he said.

She looked at him, even more confused. "What?"

"The party, Riku's party. I'll go with you."

Her face broke into a smile and Sora was somewhat startled by the mixture of relief and happiness that flooded her expression.

"We're gonna have to go shopping," she reckoned.

"Shopping?"

"Of course," she said, tapping him on the chest, "we've gotta get you spruced up."