-SPOILERS THROUGH THE END OF BIRTH BY SLEEP-

|||Birth By Sleep|||

Ven can't really feel anything in this contradictory existence. [But then sometimes I do.]

The only thing he can really feel is the darkness, which surrounds him and looms on the edges of this weird consciousness, a black presence just waiting to strike. [Well, the darkness isn't always darkness, for some reason—sometimes it's gray, sometimes it's a gold of a bright heart and sometimes it's cold, but it's empty, and big, and the place isn't mine, it's someone else's—Sora?—but I don't think too much about it.]

The only other thing he really knows is that he's alone. [I don't always feel alone either, like there is someone else sharing this cage with me, quiet and so familiar and safe that I almost don't notice them.] He supposes that it should make him feel sad, or abandoned. [But I know somewhere inside me that I'm not alone on purpose, that I'm not unwanted or abandoned.] He can almost remember warmth, and something that felt like a promise, before this weird existence was the only thing he knew. [But I know that I won't be alone forever, stuck here in the not-dark.]

Sometimes, when he gets bored or almost afraid, Ven might reach out a curious thought towards the darkness, [which isn't always black and doesn't always seem malicious] and for a moment he'll be plunged into another head, a head full of red and silver and an urgency and adrenaline that is alien [and yet so familiar], where he's no longer Ven, stuck there alone, but he's someone who's not Ven, but not Sora either. And Ven'll wonder "Who's Sora?" before he's shunted back to himself and solitude.

[I can almost remember joy, and something like laughter, long, long before where I am now,] but it always seems too far away from where he is, and all he can do is lust silently after that something missing from his heart there in the [sometimes-]dark.

[I think of things, sometimes, things like blades shaped like Keys and water and earth and most often, stars, ones that tumble above me through a dark sky that is achingly familiar, and when I does, I don't quite feel trapped anymore. I almost feel like I'm whole again, like I've found the rest of what should be in my heart.]

[Sometimes, I think I remember names; Aqua. Terra.] But then the moment passes and there's nothing there, no identities to cling to except his pitiful feeling of loss.

And for some reason that Ven doesn't think about or understand, he does not feel afraid of the sometimes-dark.

But Ven also isn't happy, surrounded by mostly-dark, partially empty and not whole. He always feels like he's missing something, and he wants it back in the only constant of his existence, wants it with an unceasing, unwavering desire that never burns but only nags at him like a quiet voice.

[I don't know how long I've been here or how long I will be here but I know it hasn't been forever and it won't be long.] Time has no meaning—nothing has meaning, except for the missing piece of himself [and the memories I can't always remember], yet Ven can do nothing to get it back, nothing to ease the lack that eats at him constantly.

[Nothing, except place my trust in them and wait, reaching out whenever I can and hoping Aqua and Terra will be back soon.]

Ven can't really feel anything in this contradictory existence.

But then sometimes, he does.

~fin~

...

A/N: So this is short and might not make any sense, but I hope it's enjoyable (and not confusing. I really hope it's not confusing)! This was a bit of an experiment for me; I don't usually do switching POVs like this or anything (but it was still pretty fun to write, so...). Thank you for reading. :)