Chapter 007 - Interim

"What are you," I whispered.

He shrugged again.

"Something," he said. "Something like you, something like a beast, something like a bird, something like an angel." He laughed. "Something like that."

"Skellig" - David Almond

Hands. Hands all over him, caressing, exploring. Fingers cresting like a wave, languid over the curves of his burning flesh, undulating.

Breathless. He was gasping, body on fire, chest rising and falling, only partially successful at stemming the off-balance rush each successive touch brought on, fiercely relentless.

Darkness. Eyes open, seeing nothing. Just knowing, without question, they both were falling, falling. The hands pressed against him, mouth finding a tender spot at the base of his neck. A ragged exhalation of breath turned itself inside out, transforming into a soft moan at the back of his throat.

Ecstasy. Back arching, hips pressing against the lap of another. Heat rising, yet he was still falling, plummeting toward a complete unknown.

I've been having these weird thoughts lately…

Like, is any of this for real… or not?

Silver hair, wild ocean eyes. Longing, searching mouth pressed against increasingly amenable lips. He was helpless but somehow, in some way, subtly whole. And suddenly, he found himself, quite simply, giving in.

Fingers wrapping, twined around a handful of hair on the top of his head. Kisses trailing, from temple to ear, down to the flushed skin of his cheek. The free hand slid slowly down to chest, then stomach, onward to the lowest point of his waist.

A touch, another yearning moan, the hand finding heat between jutted, narrow hipbones. Body rigid, realization nigh, the boy froze. He let out a strangled, guttural cry.

What are you so afraid of?

Mouth still pressed against his cheek, he felt the other's lips rise, a practiced curve upward, the impression of a smirk.

Power sleeps within you. If you give it form…

Hands gone, all alone. Eyes open, sky whirling, distorted above. All around him ocean, roiling, churning. Still helpless to slow his descent, the rush of wind and water flowing past his ears, still spiraling uncontrolled, downward.

Then, silence all around him, as deafening as the rush of water, as overwhelming as the frenzied passion that had come before.

And out of it, a voice. Resonate, sure. It vibrated in the cage of his chest, then delved further, straight to the tremulous core of his uncertain, incomplete, vulnerable soul.

You are the one who will open the door.

o - o

He heard the waves before actually feeling the water around him, lapping at his legs, sun beating harshly onto his exposed face. The air held a salty tang that reminded him of childhood vacations with his family before everything had fallen apart.

And gulls. He could hear them, squawking, clacking their beaks together in conversation, flapping their wings nearby. It was a melody, but discordant with the steady rhythm of other aquatic sounds.

Then, laughter, feminine and good-natured, directly above his head.

Eyes slow to open, bleary and sensitive to the sun overhead, Roxas squinted, made an attempt at identifying the newcomer.

Was it — could it be …Olette?

He started at the sight of an unfamiliar face, sitting upright in a split-second and making an undignified sound of surprise in the process.

The girl laughed again, her grin widening, realizing she'd caught him off-guard. "You lazy bum," she said, stifling another giggle. "I knew I'd find you snoozing down here."

She'd known? Really? Because he sure as hell didn't know her.

Roxas blinked, spared a glance around.

This …was not the Jersey Shore. Not even close.

"I wasn't sleeping," he answered, voice testy, sounding high-pitched and awkward to his own ears. "This huge, black thing swallowed me up," he rushed on. Vaguely, he was aware of just how completely stupid he sounded. "I couldn't breathe. I couldn't—ow!"

Reaching a hand up, he gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

Had this girl — this veritable stranger — just smacked him? What the fuck?

A smug expression passed over her face. "Are you still dreaming now?"

He glowered at her. "It wasn't a dream!"

Or was it? Roxas really, truly didn't know.

"Yeah, sure." The girl rolled her eyes. Then, standing straighter, she took a few steps away, toward the ocean, its waves lapping closely to both of their feet.

Roxas eyed her, still disoriented and suspicious, fingers burrowing into the warm sand at both sides of his hips. She was wearing a sleeveless white shirt, a pastel pink skirt — attire that wasn't too far off from what Olette would probably have opted for on warm, sunny days like this one in New York.

But that bob of crimson hair was nothing like his friend's. And, judging by a quick look at the palm trees bordering his surroundings, this was a far cry from even Long Island, let alone Manhattan.

"Hey," a deep, masculine voice called out. "Aren't you guys forgetting about me?"

The girl turned, eyes wide with recognition, smile warm and welcoming. Roxas turned a moment later himself to get a clearer view of the silver-haired newcomer, blinked once as the sun hit his eyes square-on.

When he next opened them, everything was pitch black, the air colder, more ominous. Both the boy and girl were gone. The only sounds around him were the violent rustlings of wind as it gusted through nearby palm trees. Above him, lightning flashed, a blend of white and royal purple across the night sky. The rumbling sound of thunder soon followed, along with a sprinkling of rain.

As the first drops hit him, Roxas shuddered, drew into himself. It was a reminder of another hail storm that was still fresh in his memory, of crystalline shards pealing against the ground around him, crunching under his feet.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the angry sky, illuminating a structure not far off: a dock. Pushing himself to his feet, Roxas stumbled forward, only half-aware of the completely ridiculous looking, oversized yellow shoes he now seemed to be sporting.

By the time he arrived, his hair was damp, shirt soaked with a combination of rain and sweat.

And, Roxas realized a split second later, he wasn't actually alone.

At the edge of the dock, the guy from earlier was standing, back facing Roxas, eyes trained on what looked like a spherical hurricane of raging wind above both of their heads. Despite his better judgment, Roxas found himself moving forward, felt a deep-seated need to get closer.

When he was a mere handful of feet away, the young man turned, craning his neck over one shoulder. "The door has opened," he said, voice strong and assured, rising above the wind into an audible range. "Now we can go to the outside world."

"What?" Roxas shook his head, pushed wayward strands of hair out of his face, then took another step closer. "What are you talking about?"

The boy turned, facing Roxas full-on. He was at least a full head taller, and Roxas noted the defined muscles of his bare arms with an odd, unsettling sense of familiarity. "Once we step through, we might not be able to come back," the boy said, ignoring the question Roxas had just posed entirely.

Roxas gawked at him. Why the hell should he care? He didn't even live here.

"We may never see our parents again," the boy continued, "there'll be no turning back. But this may be our only chance."

Only chance for what, Roxas wanted to ask with increasing frustration. This guy wasn't making any fucking sense.

Reaching out a gloved hand, silver hair whipping violently in the wind, Roxas was offered an expectant look.

"We can't let fear stop us. I promise I'll protect you. I'm not afraid of the darkn—"

The boy's words were cut off by another flash of light in the sky, this one so blinding, Roxas was forced to close his eyes. The aftershock felt like an explosion, and a moment later, he was knocked off his feet, his back colliding with something warm but impenetrable. Hard as steel. The sudden halt to his trajectory snapped his head back. It hit the barrier he'd just been thrown up against with an audible crack.

Darkness quickly flooding his consciousness, Roxas sensed nothing more.

Except… one word.

"Sora…"

…and a desperate, keening plea.

"Open your eyes. Oh, stars. Get up, Sora. Wake up! Please."