Chapter 6
Disillusioned
Vexen sat at his desk, his arms crossed over the desktop, his eyes watching the two children sitting on the rug in front of him as they enjoyed their ice cream. His small, cobbled-together family and his studies were all that he had in the world, and for the past few weeks, he'd been worried that the former had been put in danger.
"I know you've noticed," said Zexion, the bright orphan he'd found wandering a city a decade prior. Vexen had been charmed from the start by the boy's intelligence and quiet, most unchildlike behavior. It was that intelligence that had influenced Vexen to take the child under his wing, and it that same intelligence that convinced Vexen to speak to the boy about the obvious threat.
"I have," admitted Vexen, his voice matching Zexion's low tone to spare the children their worries. "And it surprises me very little to learn that you have as well."
Zexion gripped his shoulder conspiratorially. "Do you suppose it's Xemnas?"
His acid green eyes narrowed dangerously. "Of our possible suspects, he is the most likely. Of course, we must consider our own bias. It is only natural that we should suspect the newest addition to our household."
Zexion nodded slowly in Vexen's peripheral. "Of course."
The elder frowned. There was something about the way he'd said that. "Zexion, have you encountered something in one of your tomes?"
"It would be irresponsible of me to share that information," said the boy. "The kitchen recipes, architectural advances, and certain stories are the most that I can provide. Surely you have learned that much by now."
"Of course," confirmed Vexen. "But you can guide others to a fault. I have seen you do as much. On that note, would you consider it certain that our traitor is, in fact, Xemnas?"
"Certain, no," admitted Zexion. "Only likely."
"Then we have no choice but to wait," said Vexen, his expression darkening. "At the risk of another of our number falling."
"We should prepare ourselves in the meantime," said Zexion. "Plan a defensive strategy, in case our traitor plans to strike each of us down. You, myself, and the children are the least likely to be our attacker, of course, but Xion and Riku should be kept out of this and you and I would not make a very strong defense. The next least likely, I believe, are Eraqus, for his moral fiber, and—"
The door burst open, and a crimson-haired individual stood in the doorway. He greeted the children on the rug eagerly, a playful smile on his face. Riku shyly kept to himself on the rug, but Xion jumped to her feet and rushed into the man's arms.
Vexen and Zexion exchanged glances.
"Axel."
Roxas thanked whatever deity had blessed him with enough willpower to keep himself from running back into the basement before he reached his bedroom. Without that blessing, there was no way Roxas would have been able to withstand every agonizing moment spent wondering whether Axel was okay, what Xemnas was doing, why he was doing it, or how many times it must have happened for Axel to rush him out the way that he had.
What bothered Roxas the most was that he had run from the exact reason why he had gone into the basement in the first place. Hadn't he gone down there to ask Axel why he was being kept there? For him to bolt exactly when that question was about to be answered was shameful at best, and absolutely cowardly at worst. Roxas paused in his pacing to kick his door in frustration. Now he would have to wait. That's all he could do. He would wait for the next possible moment for him to go downstairs and ask without risking the chance of being caught by Xemnas.
And wait he did.
Roxas spent hours in his room, pacing back and forth between his bedroom door and the foot of his bed. It had begun to snow at one point late in the morning, just before noon, and it continued well into the day. By the time night had fallen, however, it had stopped, and silvery-blue moonlight reflected off of the still, peaceful sastruga that had built up outside over the course of the day. It poured in through Roxas' window, bathing the floor in its glow.
He pressed his burnt fingers against the cool glass pane, condensation spreading outward from where his hand met the window, casting a perfect impression.
Enough was enough. Xemnas had to have returned to his room by this point, surely, and even if he hadn't, Roxas couldn't bear the thought of spending another restless moment in this claustrophobic room.
Having hidden his face beneath Xion's hood yet again, Roxas left his bedroom and took to the basement. It was a struggle to keep his footfalls quiet, urgent as they were, but he did the best that he could.
Roxas pushed past the forest green door and locked it behind him before descending into the dungeon below.
Fifteen, sixteen... Had it always smelled so moldy down here, or had the stress simply strengthened his senses?
Twenty-one, twenty-two... It seemed colder than before, but that was just because of the snow, surely.
Twenty-six, twenty-seven... What would Roxas do if Axel really wasn't okay? What could he do?
"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty." Roxas took the last step onto the solid stone floor, but that was where he stopped, frozen to the spot, one leg still on the bottom stair.
He... He was going to be okay, wasn't he?
"Axel?" Despite Roxas' efforts to hide it, the crack of his voice proved how nervous he truly was. The evidence was there, plain as day.
What wasn't there was Axel's response.
Well... Maybe he was asleep.
Ignoring the nagging in the back of Roxas' mind that Axel must have had as much of a problem with insomnia as he and Xion did, Roxas called out again, this time louder. "Axel?"
He waited.
And he waited.
The room stayed as silent as the metaphorical grave. No shivering. No rattling chains. The only sound Roxas recognized was his own sharp, anxious breathing. He forced himself to take one long, deep breath with the hopes that it would calm him. It didn't.
With more willpower than ever should have been necessary, Roxas began to walk forward. His feet felt heavy. With every footstep, Roxas compared himself to some sort of rusted mechanism, something his neighbor Mr. Thatch might have worked with back in Sublustris. His knees were scraping hinges of iron, his feat lead weights. Roxas felt ridiculous. He'd spent all day pacing in his room, desperate to find out what had happened, and now that he was so close to an answer, he was terrified of what that answer might be.
"Axel," he tried one last time, his voice quiet, hesitant, rasping with fear. Roxas kicked something with the heavy feet that he'd been dragging across the stone floor. It rattled ominously.
Again, he froze.
Chains. That was the sound of chain links clattering against one another. Axel... He'd been shackled.
And shackles...had locks.
Swallowing hard, Roxas dropped to the floor, resting one knee against the cold stone to keep him balanced. It was like ice.
Don't think about that. Don't think about that right now.
Experimentally, he reached out, his fingertips scanning the unseen floor below him for the chains he'd just kicked. Painfully cold metal against his bare skin sent goosebumps crawling up Roxas' arms, but he didn't flinch away from it. He wrapped his hands tight around the links, and he took a deep, shuddering breath.
Did he really want to know what he would find on the other side of this chain?
He closed his eyes. Of course he did. He needed to know.
Roxas squeezed the chain, and when he did, it sent a pulse of blue light shooting down the iron, conducting itself from link to icy link. He opened his eyes to watch as the dim glow rolled down the line, following the long chain as it zig-zagged and spiraled around the room. It coiled over itself, looped, and knotted for what seemed like an eternity until it finally, finally reached the end of the line.
Refracted light bounced off of something glittering and translucent, magnifying itself and spreading bright enough to illuminate the entire room for the briefest of moments. It faded as quickly as it had appeared, but not before showing Roxas what he needed to see.
It felt as though an anvil had been dropped into Roxas' chest, pressing into his stomach and weighing down his legs. He understood now just why Axel had seemed so terrified. Anyone would have been.
Being encased in ice was the stuff of nightmares to be sure.
At least, it seemed to be ice. It hadn't seemed transparent enough to be glass, and when Roxas finally gathered enough courage to weakly crawl toward the glittering mound, he found it to be freezing to the touch.
Axel couldn't be dead, right? The very idea shook Roxas to the core. They'd only spoken less than twenty-four hours prior. The possibility of Axel being there one moment and gone the next was enough to numb Roxas' senses. The thought that he might have just caught a glimpse of a corpse was ever worse. It wouldn't have been the first time Roxas had seen a lifeless body-he had helped to bury his mother, after all-but it was one thing to mourn a loved one during a ceremony and something else entirely to happen upon the victim of what seemed to be a murder.
But... But no. Roxas shook the fear from his mind. He was getting ahead of himself. Axel had seemed scared, but scared in a way that made Roxas feel as though he knew what was coming, as if he'd experienced it before.
Although...it was still entirely possible that Roxas was being optimistic.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, thinking hard.
Ice. It was just ice. Ice could be broken. Roxas had done it countless times before. He'd done it when he was trying to water livestock, he'd done it to snap icicles off of the roof of his house to use as toy swords when he was a child... And if Roxas could break the ice, he could see for himself whether Axel was breathing.
His hands dropped to his lap. Right. It was the best idea he had. Forcing himself to take another deep breath, Roxas grabbed the chain and climbed to his feet. It was heavy in his hands. Strong. A lot stronger than his fists, that was for sure. It had nearly knocked the wind out of him the night before when Axel had hit him by accident. Hitting something on purpose was bound to pack one hell of a punch.
Roxas bunched the chain in his hands, doubling it in his grip to make a loop. He spun that loop around like a slingshot, slowly building up speed and momentum. The chain whistled each time it flew past his ear.
On the backswing of one rotation, Roxas took a step forward and cracked the chain like a whip.
There was a crashing noise, one that made Roxas wince and second-guess his ice-breaking method. He might break more than bone, or worse, he might be discovered.
Discarding that thought as well as the chain, he rushed forward, hands groping through the darkness, trying to locate Axel's frozen body.
At first, all Roxas found was ice, but he continued to slide his fingers across the frozen surface until...
That was an arm.
Roxas gripped the arm tight in his hands. The biceps beneath the surface felt strong, but more than that, they felt warm, damp, as if the ice had been melting around him.
Axel was giving off heat.
Afraid to hope, reminding himself that Axel wasn't exactly a normal person and that he might be capable of producing heat even in death, Roxas began to pry at the ice. He forced his fingers underneath and gripped the sharp edges, breaking off whatever he could piece by agonizing piece until he'd managed to expose Axel's chest. Ignoring the dampness from Axel's coat that made his face sting in the cool air, he leaned in close and pressed his ear to Axel's sternum.
The first thing that he noticed was the slight rise and fall of Axel's chest, expanding with every weak breath that he took, and then...
Th-Thump...
Roxas swallowed. A heartbeat. Definitely alive, then.
"All right..." He took a step back and sucked in a breath, rubbing his hands together to will away the pain and cold he'd inflicted on himself by prying at the ice. "Hold on," he said. "You'll be out of there in no time."
Gritting his teeth, Roxas gripped another sharp corner of the ice. He had a lot of work to do.
Perhaps it was bad luck or perhaps it was simply because of the places they'd visited, but it wasn't until they reached Agrabah that Corazza finally met someone his own age.
They'd been pursuing the marketplace, searching for something to cook for their dinner that night, when the sound of music reached their ears. To Vexen, it was simply background noise, but the child's interest had been piqued, and he'd managed to wander off while Vexen was in the middle of making his purchase of fish.
Once he was sure that he wouldn't have his hands cut off, Vexen hurried away from the stall after his young ward, only to find him conversing with an excitable young musician. Or, rather, listening intently while the other boy seemed to be rattling off his life story in perfect English.
"—always finding stuff. You wouldn't believe what people throw away. That's how I got this thing. I don't even know what it's called, but it's cool, and some old lady was just gonna throw it away because it was old and worn out, but I got her to give it to me instead. One fresh coat of blue paint later, and bam, look at it now— Oh, hey, is that your dad?"
When the stranger pointed over the child's shoulder, the boy turned his head back to look at Vexen, whose mouth was twitching with amusement. It was strange; Vexen would have never predicted that Corazza could be such an extrovert. Not when he was so studious. Perhaps he was just excited about the music, or about seeing a boy his own age, or perhaps a combination of the two.
"Are you enjoying your conversation with someone who can't understand you?" asked Vexen of the young musician.
The boy balancing his instrument on his lap grinned sheepishly. "I was kinda wondering why he wasn't responding. That's okay, though. He was still a good listener. Man, you two really look alike."
"Oh, really?" questioned Vexen, raising an eyebrow. "Odd, considering we aren't related by blood."
"Huh. Maybe you just rubbed off on him or something. Is he an orphan?"
"Unfortunately."
"Aw." The musician turned his grin back to the child, who was still staring at him intently. "Me, too. Sucks, right? But it's okay as long as you have someone looking out for you."
Vexen peered down at the street musician curiously. What a strange choice for Corazza to become fixated on. "What is your name, boy?"
"Demyx," said the stranger brightly.
"Well then, Demyx," said Vexen almost warmly, or at least as close as he could get, "perhaps we will make a point of coming here once Corazza has learned proper English. He does seem to be fond of you."
"That'd be awesome," said Demyx, turning his gaze on the child again. "That's your name, huh? Corazza?"
The child dropped his gaze, apparently suddenly interested on the cover of the book in his lap. This entire interaction was odd. Vexen had never seen the child so shy. Quiet, yes, but never nervous like this.
"Well, the sun is soon to reach the horizon. It was a pleasure meeting you, Demyx, but we really should be—"
"Z-Zexion."
Vexen raised his eyebrows.
Demyx lowered his, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Wha...?"
"Non Corazza," said the child, still staring at his lap. "Il mio nome è Zexion."
"Oh!" Comprehension dawned on Demyx's features. "It's your name!" He grinned brightly, perhaps proud of himself for decoding Zexion's cryptic, foreign words. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Zexion..." He pointed to his own chest. "...Demyx!"
"Demyx..." repeated Zexion, the smallest of rare smiles tugging at his lips. He stood up, finally, it seemed, ready to leave. When he took Vexen's hand, his eyes were still watching the street musician. "Bene. Ciao, Demyx."
"See ya, Zexion! And, uh..."
"Vexen," said the man, recognizing his prompt.
"Right," said Demyx. "If you're still around Agrabah tomorrow, I'll be right here. Feel free to stop by!"
"Of course," said Vexen. "Take care, boy."
Once they were out of earshot, Vexen couldn't help but ask, "Zexion, is it? Why did you tell him, but not me, even after so many months?"
The child remained silent, not understanding his words, or perhaps choosing not to.
Vexen shook his head. It was for reasons like this that he had never originally wanted to become a father. Children were impossible to comprehend.
Crash!
Roxas spread his arms open wide to catch Axel's collapsing body as the last bit of ice supporting it cracked and fell away. He was really heavy, and Roxas was so tired that he could barely support his own weight as it was, but somehow, he managed. He held Axel close to his chest and dropped to his knees, panting with effort. One of his hands slid into Axel's hair, supporting his head as he carefully leaned down to set him on the stone floor. He bent lower still to check Axel's breathing. It was shallow, but thankfully steady. Roxas' hand, bitten from the cold and bruised by the ice and the chain, found its way to Axel's cheek. It was warm. Or, at least, warmer than Roxas' hand, which wasn't saying much. Roxas hesitated briefly before deciding that he didn't have time to be shy and pressed his cheek to Axel's.
Yeah, his face was definitely cold.
Roxas turned toward the stairs—or at least where he thought he remembered them being, considering the pitch black of the basement—and then back to Axel. Should he stay, chancing Xemnas' wrath? Or should he leave Axel to fend for himself? Would he be able to warm himself up? Or should Roxas try to warm him up personally? He wasn't sure. How could he be sure? Too much of this was unpredictable. He had no idea how Axel's body worked, how human it was, how the fire changed him. Not to mention that ice... Roxas wasn't even sure how Xemnas had managed to freeze Axel in the first place.
Roxas worried his lip, an unbidden whimper rising at the back of his throat as he tried to make a decision, to decide what was best for Axel while still considering the consequences he might face as well. Hesitantly, tiredly, he unzipped Xion's coat and shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it flop against the floor behind him. Still warm, the coat was thrown over Axel's body in the hopes that it would be able to keep him safe in Roxas' absence.
Satisfied, but exhausted, Roxas climbed to his feet, and hardly more than a step had been taken before the light-headedness began to creep in. The second footstep barely even reached Roxas' ears; everything sounded as though it were underwater.
A third step might have been taken, but it was impossible to tell for certain; Roxas was out cold before he hit the floor.
Riku had only managed to take a single step into the house before he felt his hair start to stand on end. His instincts were telling him that something was amiss, and he had a vague feeling he knew exactly what it was.
Drawing his sword from the sheath on his belt, Riku crept toward Sora's room, ready to strike at a moment's notice, his eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every wall for the first sign of a threat.
That first sign came to him when he'd stepped beyond Sora's bedroom door.
As he'd predicted, there was someone standing over Sora's bed, his brow creased with thought, a contemplative fist resting under his bottom lip. His violet eyes were gentle, but narrowed, as if he was trying to understand something important.
Riku was more familiar than he wanted to admit with people like this. He knew exactly what he was looking at from the second he'd walked in. He knew exactly who this boy was.
"I'm giving you ten seconds to get away from Sora," he warned, and he slid into an offensive stance, his back straightening, his right arm lifting his sword above his head.
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Riku," dismissed the boy, sounding somewhere between bored and exasperated. It seemed he couldn't even be bothered to take his gaze away from Sora, even to spare a glance at the weapon raised against him. "I'm not going to take him. He's not that sick. Not anymore, at least. Your precious boy-toy isn't going anywhere for now."
"Then why are you here?" demanded Riku, still on high alert. "And why are you looking at him like that?"
"Just trying to figure out why someone so highly revered among the Ankou would be so preoccupied with someone so dull and ordinary," sighed the boy. "I really don't understand you at all."
Deciding at last that this boy was not an immediate threat, Riku lowered his weapon. He sheathed it, but kept his hand on the hilt, still prepared to defend his sleeping friend if he deemed it necessary. "You won't be able to see that just by watching him sleep." He crossed the room with long, purposeful strides to guard Sora's bedside. "And that doesn't explain why you're here. I know you didn't come here to watch my friend sleep."
"No, you're right about that." Finally, the boy lifted his head. He turned his eyes on Riku and pulled his lips into a small, hollow smirk. "How was your caper into the forest?"
Riku narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why would the Ankou be interested in that?"
"Don't act so affronted," sighed the Ankou himself, resting his hands on his waist. "We like you, remember? I'm trying to do you a favor."
"A favor?" Riku frowned. What kind of favor could possibly involve the forest— "Do you know where Roxas is?"
"Of course I do." The boy rolled his eyes. "I'm the Ankou. Try to keep up, Riku. But that's not why I'm here."
"Then why?" snapped Riku. "Stop beating around the bush and tell me why you're here already."
"Don't you have any manners at all?" sighed the Ankou. "We haven't even introduced ourselves."
"You already know my name," said Riku.
"But you don't know mine," retaliated the boy. "Hi, Riku. It's an honor to meet you. I'm this year's Ankou. My name is Joshua. I like shio ramen and the color pink."
"Great," grumbled Riku. "Now why are you here?"
"Fine, eager beaver." Joshua rolled his eyes. "I'll cut to the chase, then. There's someone who lives in the forest, someone who is...shall we say morally deprived? Unfortunately for you, he's also very powerful and suffers from delusions of grandeur. That is, he believes that the entire forest and everything in it belongs to him, which means, as far as he's concerned, you've been trespassing."
"So what you're saying is that he's not happy with me."
"Bravo, Riku. Did you figure that out all on your own?"
"So what?" Riku crossed his arms. "It's not like he can kill me. I still have forty years before my blessing passes."
"Oh, Riku..." purred Joshua. "Can you really think of nothing valuable to you other than your life? Because I can, even if I still can't figure out why he's of such value to you."
Riku's bright, aquamarine eyes darted to the boy fast asleep on the bed, then back again. "You mean— How would he know to target Sora?"
"I told you," said Joshua. "He's powerful. Practically omnipotent. He's managed to stay alive for centuries because even we Ankou are no match for him. No one can get close enough to coax his soul from his body. The closest we've ever come was long ago, when he was very old and frail, but even then, his soul was strong enough to free itself from the Ankou's grip, and he found a new, younger body to escape into. That Ankou had no choice but to escort the soul belonging to that body instead.
"Unfortunately..." Joshua rested his hands in his belt, the thumbs resting overtop it while his fingers slid underneath. "It...wasn't long after that before he found a way to preserve that body. He's not aging, so we can't rely on the same tactic of just waiting for him to grow old. For all intents and purposes, that man is immortal."
"So what do I do?" asked Riku. "I can't just give up. Not unless Roxas left the forest." He frowned. "Did—"
"Unfortunately, no," answered Joshua. "He's still in that forest."
Riku furrowed his brow. "Is he safe?"
"Well, he's not going to die from any injuries he's sustained since leaving the forest if that's what you're asking," said Joshua, "but seeing as he's staying in the house of the person I just told you about—"
"He's what?!"
"I would assume out of ignorance," explained Joshua. "Or perhaps desperation."
Riku groaned and sat at the edge of Sora's bed, resting his head in his hands. "So what you're saying is there's no way of helping Roxas without putting Sora in danger."
"Now you're getting it." Joshua smirked and put his shoulders back. "Bravo again, Riku. See, I knew you were bright enough to figure it out."
Riku lifted his head, his jaw set. "So what do I do?"
"Well, if you're looking for my advice, I'd say to call Roxas a lost cause and move on. Quit while you're ahead." Joshua shrugged, nonchalant. "Better to lose one friend than to, right? But, of course, that's only my advice. Knowing your reputation, I doubt your ability to just walk away from something like this, even knowing the consequences. At any rate, it's your choice, not mine."
Riku closed his eyes and bowed his head again, his wrists resting limply on his knees. He felt a hand pat his back, and then a glint of green leaked past his eyelids and he knew Joshua had gone. Now, he was left alone with only his choice for company.
Break Sora's heart, or risk his life.
How was he supposed to make a decision like that?
Rare are those who have gone their entire lives without feeling, even once, the sensation of waking up in the morning after having slept less than they would have hoped. Few have managed to escape the feeling of desperately trying to go back to sleep despite the fact that the light was too bright for sleep to come.
Roxas was not one of those lucky few.
His eyebrows drew together in a frustrated expression. His eyelids twitched. He rolled over. Still the light would not go away.
What made the experience all the better was the fact that there were people in his room, speaking just loudly enough for it to be annoying.
"Then why, Xion?" asked the deeper of the two voices. "If you have an explanation, by my guest. I'm all ears."
"Because he's a nice guy," said the other voice, sweet and clear like spring water on a summer afternoon. "Some people are just nice guys who do nice things. Why does he have to have a motive?"
Roxas tried opening one eye, only to close it blearily once he had decided it was too uncomfortable. Maybe he'd try again in a few minutes.
"No one does anything for nothing," said the deeper voice. It sounded strangely familiar to Roxas. Some part of him buried deep in his mind said something about tea with honey.
"Maybe Roxas does," said the sweeter voice. "You used to."
"Yeah, when I was eighteen," said the deeper one. "I don't even know how old I am anymore."
"I don't think Roxas is even eighteen. Maybe he hasn't learned to be jaded yet."
Xion.
Roxas forced both of his eyes open, even if it was just to stare at the ceiling. It still hurt, but Xion was in his room. Who was she talking to? It wasn't as if there was anyone else who could possibly-
Frowning, Roxas pushed himself onto his elbows and looked toward his door. Xion was indeed there, sitting at the foot of his bed, her hands resting on the carved wood on either side of her. The one she was speaking to leaned against the inside of the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, and a bored (if slightly miffed) expression on his face. One heel was pressed against the doorframe beneath him, the other foot planted firmly on the floor. His bottle green eyes lifted from where they'd been burning a hole into the rug, having noticed Roxas' stirring.
"Axel?" Roxas pushed the blankets off of his body and swing his feet over the edge of the bed to rest against the cool floor beneath. "H-How are you—"
"Out of the cell?" Axel cocked an eyebrow. "Unchained? Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd tell me."
Roxas simply stared at Axel for a long moment, trying to remember what had led him to wake up in his bedroom in the first place.
His answer crashed into him all at once.
The ice, the cold chains biting into his palms, the sharp edges of Axel's frozen cage cutting into his fingers... Roxas looked down, frowning when he noticed the shallow cuts and small bruises that marked him on his palms and the insides of his fingers. He squeezed his hands slowly into weak fists and winced at the slow ache that drew from his injuries.
As startled as Roxas was to remember his injuries, it paled in comparison to how it felt to remember Axel. The way Roxas found him. The way he looked in the ice. The fear, not knowing whether Axel was alive or dead beneath the surface. The light illuminating his frozen, pained features.
The light from the chains.
He'd unlocked Axel's manacles without the slightest hesitation.
And now here Axel was, in his bedroom, his head inclined, his expression impatient.
"Oh..." Roxas swallowed. "I, uh..."
Axel's expression didn't changed. It seemed as though he already knew exactly what Roxas was going to say, like a parent waiting for his child to confess to some act of disobedience.
Roxas' eyes sought out Xion, searching for some kind of guidance at the foot of his bed. The expectancy in her eyes was very different from Axel's. She seemed more encouraging, silently urging Roxas to speak up, telling him that it was okay.
The boy swallowed, and he returned his gaze to Axel.
"I...unlocked the shackles?" he offered.
Axel waved a hand to dismiss Roxas' explanation. "Yeah, I got that much. I wanna hear how you did it. I know you don't have the key."
Roxas looked down at his hands again, thinking, hesitating, before deciding to go with his go-to response. "I... I was a thief," he claimed, though even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "I know how to pick locks because I used to break into people's houses, and—"
Axel sighed emphatically and shook his head, glaring at the floor. "Look, Kid, you're starting to get on my nerves. If you're not gonna tell me the truth, why are you even bothering to talk at all?"
Roxas rubbed his aching hands together. Axel was some sort of weird...fire guy, right? So...maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he just...
"I sort of..." He cleared his throat. "...told it...to unlock? I don't know how to explain it. I can just touch things, doors, boxes...and they unlock because I want them to. Or lock."
When Axel lifted his head, he wore a smirk. "There it is." He chuckled softly, breathily. "You're like Eraqus, then."
"Eraqus...?" Roxas turned to face Xion, who was positively beaming, her body twisting to lean toward Roxas with her hands planted on top of the quilt.
"I always loved what he could do." The girl sighed dreamily. "His light was so beautiful."
Axel turned his attention on Xion, cocking an eyebrow. "What, my fire not good enough for you?"
Xion giggled. "It's different, Axel."
Roxas' gaze darted frantically between Axel and Xion, his expression growing increasingly concerned with every turn of his head. "What are you talking about? Who's Eraqus? And—" His blue eyes snapped open wide, landing on Axel. "Why are you in my room?" he hissed in an urgent stage whisper. He wanted to leap from the bed and yank Axel inside so that he could lock the door. Only his memory of the all-consuming flames kept him from doing just that. "What if Xemnas—"
"Calm down, Kid." Axel smirked. "If Xemnas was here, you wouldn't have woken up."
Roxas' eyes widened at the possible implications of what he'd said before he realized...
...he'd woken up.
That meant he'd been asleep.
He hadn't slept in over a month.
"He—"
"He probably didn't finish whatever he was trying to do the other day before..." Axel shrugged and turned his face away. "You know."
Roxas gripped his trousers at the knee and sent the floor a thoughtful glare as he tried to sort his thoughts. Too much was happening too fast. Something about light, and someone named Eraqus, and sleep, and Xemnas... Before he had the chance to ask anything about any one of those subjects, Axel took advantage of the lapse into silence to voice a question of his own.
"So now that you've fessed up to how..." Axel inclined his head and stared down at his nose at Roxas. "Maybe you can tell me why."
"Why?" echoed Roxas.
"Why you unlocked the chains," elaborated Axel. "Why you bothered to break the ice."
Roxas stared at Axel for a long moment, his lips parted ever so slightly, before he could even find an answer that made sense to his own ears. He hadn't even been thinking when he'd freed Axel from the ice. He'd just acted. "I..." He worried his lip. "I guess I...panicked?"
"Panicked?" deadpanned Axel.
"Y-Yeah..." Roxas cleared his throat, trying dispel the fatigue in his throat that still lingered from his unexpected sleep. "I mean...the last time I saw you, you looked scared, so I got worried, so when I went downstairs to see if you were okay and you weren't..." He averted his eyes, zoning in on a point where the wall across from him met the ceiling. "You were in trouble, so...I helped."
When Roxas met Axel's eyes again, they were narrowed in suspicion. "You just decided to help."
"Yeah?"
"Even though it did that to your hands?"
Roxas looked down at his injuries and shrugged. "It's not as bad as being frozen alive."
"Why aren't you healing yourself, anyway?" asked Axel.
Roxas drew his eyebrows together and stared at Axel, trying to decipher what he meant. "Healing...?"
Axel stared right back in apparent disbelief for the span of a few seconds before rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "You're kidding."
"What are you talking about?"
Axel put his hands on his hips and bent low to send Roxas a disgruntled stare. "You're, what, fifteen? Sixteen? And you— What can you do besides the thing with the locks?"
Roxas furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? Nothing. It's just—"
"You've had these powers for over a decade and you seriously don't know anything but that?" asked Axel, raising an eyebrow.
"What makes you think I can do more?" asked Roxas, his brow furrowed with confused aggravation. "This is all I have. What would even give you the idea that there's more to it than this?"
"Man, you're slow." Axel shook his head. "Weren't you listening? I said you were just like Eraqus, which means..."
Roxas frowned thoughtfully in the pregnant pause. "You..." He met Axel's hortatory eyes. "You...know someone who can do what I can do?" Wait. "Or...knew, I guess."
Axel let loose a low whistle and clapped slowly. "You sure picked a winner, Xion."
"Quit being a jerk, Axel," said the girl, pouting. "Expecting Roxas to figure everything out on his own..."
"I'm not stupid," said Roxas, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just don't know what's going on. So that Eraqus guy, he could heal himself?"
"Did you figure that out all by yourself? What a clever little boy you are."
"Axel..."
"Yeah, yeah..." Axel sighed at Xion's gentle chiding. "Yes, Eraqus could heal himself. And other people. He could manipulate locks at will, light up a dark room, yadda yadda. He could do a bunch of stuff. So could you if you weren't too clueless to try."
"Give me a break." Roxas sent Axel a dirty look and got a look in response that took him a second to decipher. Axel seemed...not quite surprised, really, so much as he seemed...impressed. He leaned back from Roxas, against the doorframe, his arms crossed again. What, had no one ever back-mouthed him before? "It's not like it's normal to think of trying to fix a broken arm just because you can, I don't know, pop a lock with your mind. They have nothing in common."
"If Eraqus could figure it out—"
"Eraqus was almost fifty when we met him," protested Xion with a shake of her head. "He had a lot more time to try things."
Roxas sighed and let his head hang, his shoulders slumping. Could he really heal? This whole time? Then...what was the point of breaking into that doctor's trunk and stealing his medicine? What was the point in being chased away from home? Away from his brother? Riku? Kairi? What was the point in being trapped in a strange house where he never hungered, never thirsted, never tired?
A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he lifted his head to see Xion leaning over him, her eyes filled with concern. That was all he needed to answer his question.
He sent her a smile, covered her hand with his own, and turned toward the man standing in the doorway.
"Axel..."
"Yeah?"
"Why is Xemnas keeping you down there?"
The color drained from Axel's face. He uncrossed his arms, one hand falling to his hip, the other running nervously into the back of his hair. His eyes averted to the floor, clearly uncomfortable by the subject. Roxas might have felt bad for asking, having received such a response, but he needed to know.
"Hey, Xion..." began Axel softly.
"What is it?" answered the girl.
"I'm gonna take Roxas to the den," said Axel. "I know you already know everything, but stuff like this is easier to talk about one on one, so..."
"Right." The girl smiled in understanding and took her hand from Roxas' shoulder. "I'll stay up here, out of your way."
Axel nodded, and the hand that had been in his hair fell limply to his side. He gave Roxas a pointed look and gestured down the hall with a nod of his head before leading the way.
The fact that it hadn't been long after learning Zexion's true name meant that Vexen didn't immediately notice a voice shouting it in the thick, Agrabah crowd.
Zexion, however, noticed right away.
He stopped suddenly, turning to look behind him, his visible blue eye scanning the crowd.
"What is it?" asked Vexen, stopping as well. It took him several seconds longer to hear it.
"Zexion! There you are! S-Stay there, okay?!"
A few seconds later, a small boy with dirty blond hair squeezed through the crowd, bounding along with something in his arms. Some sort of parcel covered in brown paper and twine.
After a bit of struggle, Demyx finally reached them and bent in half to catch his breath. "Aw, gross," he muttered to himself. "I'm sweating so bad..." He whined and stood up straight, stretching his arms out in front of him as far as they could go, offering the mysterious parcel. "Here, I, uh— You know how, like, I said that people throw out the coolest stuff?" He grinned. "I found this yesterday night on the way back to my sleeping spot. It looked a lot like yours, so I thought maybe you might like it."
Zexion's eyes flicked uncertainly between the parcel and Demyx.
"Uh..." Demyx chewed his lip, apparently trying to remember something. "N... Nnnnon lovui? Uh, you speak Italian, right?"
Vexen was impressed. Had Demyx deliberately learned a phrase in Italian for the sake of communicating to Zexion? Even he had only done that once, if only because he hadn't had the time to sit down and learn a new language just yet.
Zexion stared at the package for a moment longer before releasing Vexen's hand and handing him the black book he kept tucked underneath his arm, freeing his hands to take the gift.
If Vexen hadn't been impressed before, that changed the second the brown paper was peeled back and its contents revealed.
Demyx was right, it did look very much like Zexion's other books. Though the design was slightly different, it bore the same make as his other books, this one white with a blue, x-shaped design. Its similarities were emphasized when Zexion pulled the cover back and eagerly flipped through the pages, his eyes slowly widening. He stopped on a single blank page and scanned down the invisible writing for a long moment before he lifted his head again.
"Thank you," said Zexion in quiet, slightly accented, but otherwise perfect English. "This is...very useful."
All Vexen could do was stare, his jaw dropped in an almost comical expression of shock, one that Demyx mirrored.
"E, ehm..." He flipped the page and read it before looking up at Demyx again. "Your instrument is called a sitar...a-and you're playing it wrong."
The den, as it turned out, was the same room where Roxas had been led the first time he arrived at the house, the same room Xion had led him to when they made rice together, when she finally convinced him to go into the study. The very chair Roxas had seated himself in was the same one he sat in when Xemnas cleaned his would as well as the same one he'd been sitting in when Xion hugged him the first time.
He could still remember Xemnas' cold hands on his bare skin.
The den, as it turned out, was the room Xemnas had first brought Roxas to when he had shown up wounded. The very chair he was seated in while he watched Axel bring a flame to life in the fireplace was the one he had been seated in that day.
"What's that?" he asked, nodding toward the stones in Axel's hands.
"Flint and steel," grumbled the man. "What does it look like?"
"I mean why are you using them?" elaborated Roxas. Already, Axel's smart remarks were beginning to wear on him.
"Well..." Roxas cringed. He could hear another quip teetering on the edge of Axel's lips. "Generally, people use them to start fires."
"Can't you just—"
Axel sighed emphatically. "Xemnas can tell when I conjure flames," he explained at last. "How do you think he showed up so fast when I attacked you? Using enough fire to fill up the whole room isn't exactly something I do for fun. He knew something had to be up." He cracked the stones together and sparks flew exactly where they needed to go on the first attempt. "Considering I'm supposed to be a Popsicle right about now, it's probably not the best idea to be showing off." He gestured over the glowing specks, pulling upward until they grew into something stronger.
"Playing with the fire that's already there, though? That should be fair game." He set the stones down on the stone surface in front of the fireplace before reaching out to plunge his hands into the flames in a way that seemed almost desperate. The weak way that he sighed instantly killed the irritation Roxas had developed over the sarcasm.
"So," said Roxas, "you brought me here to tell me why he's keeping you down there, didn't you?"
Axel's silhouette nodded, backlit by the orange flames. "Yeah." He stood slowly, an imposing shadow in the firelight...or so he might have seemed, if Roxas hadn't seen him cowering into a corner mere hours before just because someone barely over 150 centimeters tall had gotten a little too close. "I'm warning you, though... It's a long story."
"Well..." Roxas tore his gaze away to stare at the rug beneath his chair. "If we can't finish today, I can always hear the rest of it the next time I sneak downstairs, right?"
When he looked up, he was surprised to see a smile on Axel's face, albeit one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's true," he said. Roxas thought about the fire he'd managed to find in Axel's eyes when they first met. Finding it now, though, was impossible. That melancholy that it had been hiding behind had just multiplied more than Roxas thought possible. Whatever Axel was going to tell him, it was worse than he'd thought. A lot worse.
Axel crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair across from the one Roxas sat in. He leaned back, training his eyes on the ceiling, and took a few breaths to calm himself. The silence seemed to drag on forever, and Roxas was afraid that Axel was going to change his mind when he finally dropped his gaze from the ceiling and began to speak.
"Okay, you and me? We're the same."
Roxas' eyebrows knotted. "What?" What did he mean by that? And what did it have to do with anything?
Axel sighed and threw an arm over the top of the chair. "What I mean is, the relationship you have with light is the same as mine with fire. It's not a power. Power's not the right word. It's this...innate bond that we have with the forces of nature, and it works the same way for both of us."
Roxas nodded slowly. He understood, but he had to wonder where Axel was going with this.
"We're not the only ones like this, either," continued the man. "I used to know a ton of them."
"Including Eraqus, right?"
"Right." It was to Roxas' surprise that Axel didn't chastise him for pointing out the obvious. This Axel, the one in front of him, seemed like a totally different person from the one he'd spoken to upstairs. "Vexen, our kinda...would-be leader, he called us Thaumaturges. We all used to live together in this house, all of us trying to figure out these relationships in secret, safe from anyone who would call us 'witches' or 'devils'. We taught each other, but mostly it was Vexen teaching all of us. He was the one who knew it best. I mean, he was a total hard-ass, but he knew his stuff. And what he didn't know, one of us would figure out, and then we'd talk about it and give everyone else ideas so that we all grew together."
"So it was kind of like a school?" offered Roxas.
"Exactly." Axel grinned, but there was something off about it somehow. "St. Vexen's School for Freaks.
"Anyway, every once in a while, one of us would go into Sublustris and buy things we needed. Food, coal, tools, whatever. And we'd look for new students while we were out there. Most of the time, it was just wishful thinking, but unfortunately for us, we did find one eventually."
Roxas felt goosebumps crawl up his spine. He could already see where this was going. "Xemnas."
"Bingo," said Axel. "Xigbar came home one day with this silver-haired guy who had a relationship with darkness. Or so we thought. Turns out, the guy stole it."
Roxas tilted his head, staring skeptically. "He stole it? How do you steal a relationship?"
"Well, say you have a married couple," began Axel. "Some guy comes along, decides he likes the wife, and he kills the husband. The woman's single now, right? So she can get remarried."
"Xemnas killed someone?" asked Roxas, the color draining from his face. "Just to steal his darkness?"
"Exactly," said Axel. "And he didn't stop there, either. A couple of months after Xigbar brought him in, Xemnas started picking us off one by one, stealing what we had."
Roxas watched Axel silently for a long moment, willing himself not to shudder. There was something unnerving about the way he was talking about his friends' deaths like they didn't matter to him at all. At first, Roxas thought that Axel might have just been unnaturally cold, but that didn't make sense. As hard as it was to see right now, that fire was still in his eyes somewhere, way down deep. Roxas knew that Axel had a lot of emotion in him.
Too much.
He was overcompensating. Trying to feel nothing when the truth was that he was probably reliving the most devastating experience of his life.
Doubtless when Roxas realized this, it must have shown on his face, because Axel suddenly froze and sent Roxas a glare. "What?"
"Nothing," lied Roxas.
"Right..." Axel leaned back in his chair, glowering at Roxas in a wordless expression of doubt. "Anyway, everything went smooth for Xemnas up until the point when he went after Vexen. Like I said, completely objectively, Vexen was the strongest out of any of us. He had this obsession with learning. Being a rare subject and getting to experiment on himself was a dream come true for him, and he'd had a lot of time to experiment. He understood his relationship with ice completely. When Xemnas went after him, he put up one hell of a fight...or, y'know, so I'm told." He scratched the back of his head. "You'd have to ask Xion for the details. She was the one who saw it. Point is..." He dropped his hand. "The old guy did something to Xemnas—no clue what—that made him have trouble controlling Vexen's abilities. Or maybe they were just too much for him. I don't know. All I know is that he was strong enough to steal the relationship from Vexen-you've seen what he can do—but he's not strong enough to keep it in check." He leaned forward in his chair. "It's eating him alive. You leave him alone for too long, he turns into a walking ice cube. That's what he needs me for."
Roxas' gaze disconnected with the world as his mind latched onto a memory. Cold hands. Despite the warmth of the water, when Xemnas had tried to clean his wounds, his hands had been frigid to the touch. "But why does he need you?" asked Roxas, coming back to the real world. "Why can't he just melt himself in normal fire?"
"You wanna jump in the fireplace and see what happens?" asked Axel, gesturing toward it. "Be my guest."
Roxas' eyes widened and he shrank in his chair, almost as if afraid that Axel would throw him in personally. "Uh, no thanks." He cleared his throat. "Okay, but in that case, why doesn't he just..."
"Why doesn't he kill me?" offered Axel. "Is that what you're asking?"
Roxas nodded hesitantly. "Y-Yeah."
"He's tried," explained Axel flippantly. "I don't know what's going on any more than he does, but for some reason, he just can't. Instead, he sticks me with what he calls a Recusant's Sigil, slaps me with a pair of cuffs, throws me in the basement, and threatens to kill the one friend I have left if I don't thaw him out when he starts getting frosty."
Roxas' gut twisted at the thought of Xion's life being threatened. "Recusant's Sigil?"
"He carved a big 'X' into my chest and tracks me with it," explained Axel, much too casually for Roxas' comfort, considering the nature of their conversation. "That's why I can't go anywhere. That's why I can't conjure flames when he thinks I'm trapped in a block of ice."
Roxas furrowed his brow. "So we can't just leave," he mused.
"Not unless you plan on killing the guy," acknowledged Axel. "And good luck with that. I hate to say it, but he's practically a god. He's got ice—" He began to count off on fingers. "—darkness, illusion, wind, earth, water, lightning, flora, space, and time on his side. Whole lot of good fire and light would do, even if you did know what you were doing."
"Wait," said Roxas. "Doesn't he have light, too?"
"Nope."
"But that Eraqus guy—"
"Killed himself before Xemnas got to him."
Roxas flinched. "Oh." What else was there to say to that?
"Well, unless you have any more questions..." Axel climbed out of his chair and stretched an arm over his head.
Roxas pursed his lips thoughtfully. "How does Xion fit into any of this?"
Axel shrugged. "That's her business. She didn't tell you my secrets, so I'm not spilling hers."
Roxas nodded in understanding and climbed to his feet, following Axel's lead. "I guess that's fair." He rubbed his arm. "I'm...sorry."
Axel switched arms, stretching his left over his head now. "About what?"
"That you had to go through all of that," said Roxas. "Losing so many people you care about all at once and being locked up in a cold basement ever since." He close his eyes solemnly and shook his head. "I can't even imagine a nightmare like that."
When Roxas opened his eyes to look at Axel again, the man was staring, halted mid-stretch, his lips slightly parted. Roxas stared back, confused. Was anything he said really that astonishing? "Sorry, I... I guess I shouldn't have said anything."
Roxas' voice seemed to snap Axel out of his trance. The man turned his face away and scratched the back of his head, his arm hiding his expression. "No, it... It's cool, Man. Don't worry about it. Just not used to..."
Roxas took a wary step forward. "Not used to...?"
Axel lowered his arm and shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. "Forget it," he said. "Come on, let's go get Xion. I wanna make the most out of the time he's gone while we still can. Have you ever tried a cinnamon roll?"
"Er... What's a 'cinnamon roll'?"
"Just you wait. Wonder if we have the ingredients..."
The fresh snow crunched under Riku's feet with every step. The sun had long-since set, drowning the forest in darkness. Riku lifted his head to remark the deep blue skies overhead. Were it not so close to winder, Riku would have searched it for the bats; he missed their company. Perhaps it was in his nature, or perhaps it was only that he would have ordinarily been home by now, sharing a meal with Sora. That was certainly where Riku wanted to be, but something kept him from ending his search: Joshua's warning.
The way Riku saw it, three were two ways to deal with that fear.
Either A, he could stop searching for Roxas altogether at the cost of Sora's happiness; or B, he could search longer and harder, more desperately, until he could bring Roxas home.
It was difficult to search, however, once the sun had set and it was too dark to see. Riku shuddered in the cold and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. "Maybe I should go back," he mused aloud to himself. Before Sora begins to worry.
Guiltily, Riku turned on his heel and began his track back to the village, following his own footprints.
He'd barely walked for five minutes before something invaded his sense of smell, and then his sense of sight.
Someone was lying on the ground not five meters ahead of him, most likely collapsed from the cold. Riku's footsteps hastened in his worry, worry that only multiplied when Riku drew close enough to see who it was he'd stumbled upon.
"Sora!" Riku dropped to his knees at the boy's side and flipped him over onto his back. He was breathing, but each breath seemed like a struggle.
Just how long had he been lying in the snow like this?
"Riku..." whispered Sora, his voice weak. His eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes opened, albeit with much more effort than such a simple task should have ever required.
"What are you doing here?" Riku's calm voice belied the fervor in his heartbeat. "You're supposed to be in bed."
"You were late..."
Riku's gaze bore into the snow. Sora might as well have said, "This is your fault." Riku would have taken it the same way. He should have expected Sora to do something like this. He should have been home at dusk like he'd promised. If he had, this wouldn't have happened.
"Can you stand?" asked Riku; he could save his self-loathing for when Sora was no longer in danger.
"Y-Yeah..." said Sora. "I think so." He rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up, but Riku saw his arms shake with the effort.
Shaking his head, Riku quickly unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it from his shoulders. "Here, Sora," he said softly, wrapping his coat tight around Sora's shoulders, over the coat that Sora already wore. Without his own coat to ward off the wind, icy air crawled under the hem of Riku's shirt and bit at his skin. He winced. The cold was almost painful, but it was better to feel its frigid sting than to risk Sora's life. "Any better?"
Sora nodded weakly, and Riku reached around the boy's back and under his knees to pull him into his arms. He was heavier than the last time Riku held him like this. When Sora's illness was at its worst, he'd been frighteningly light. He'd been steadily gaining weight back since he'd begun taking the medicine Roxas had stolen, but he was still lighter than he should have been.
Riku tucked Sora's head under his chin, and the boy reached out in turn to grip onto the collar of his shirt.
"You'll be okay," assured Riku, trying to convince himself just as much as the boy in his arms. "I promise."
He began to walk, resuming the trail of his own footsteps, but when he felt Sora begin to shake his head, he stopped.
"What's wrong?" asked Riku, his concern unmistakable.
"I won't be okay," whispered Sora, his voice muffled by Riku's shirt.
Riku felt his heart stutter. He could never remember Sora being anything less than optimistic. What changed?
"Don't say that," he uttered sternly, his feet moving again. They needed to get out of the cold and fast. "You'll be fine."
"Riku..." The way Sora spoke reminded Riku of the way he used to whine when Riku would tease him as a child. It was eerie, hearing that tone from this weak, frail Sora. "Don't."
"Don't what?" questioned Riku.
"Lie," breathed Sora. "You're lying."
"I'm not lying," insisted Riku. "You're cold right now, and scared, but you'll get better."
Again, Sora shook his head.
Stop doing that, thought Riku desperately, his eyes narrowing. "We just need to get you in front of a fire and you'll—"
"We won't make it that far."
Every pessimistic word out of Sora's mouth made it harder for Riku to think. Everything he knew had suddenly been turned on its head. Sora had always been the light, cheerful one. Sure, he got sad sometimes. Everyone did. But he never gave up. Not like this.
"Sora..."
"You know how people always say that you can tell when you're in love?" Weak fingers tightened in the fabric of Riku's collar. "How it just hits you, and you suddenly know? I think it's the same thing with dying."
Riku looked down at the boy in his arms, and Sora smiled tiredly back at him, as if Riku were the one who needed his help.
"Remember how you used to think you were in love with Kairi?" asked Riku, forcing his eyes to watch the trail of footprints in front of him. "You were wrong about that. What makes you so sure about this?"
"I just know, okay?" rasped Sora. "It's like... It's like I'm already dead and it's just taking a while to sink in."
"You're not dead," snapped Riku. "You're just scared."
"But I'm not scared, Riku," insisted Sora. "I'm not afraid of dying."
Riku's glare hardened, his teeth clenched too tightly to form an answer.
"I think..." Sora began in a whisper. "I think you're the one who's scared."
The crunching beneath Riku's boots slowed to a crawl. His grip on Sora's cold, weak body tightened, as if afraid that the very air could whisk him away. "...Maybe I am," he conceded.
"Riku..."
"Fine, Sora!" hissed the silver-haired boy. "I'm scared. What do you want from me?"
"It... It'll be okay, R—"
"No, Sora, it won't." His breath stuttered in his throat, forcing itself around the knot steadily forming. "I'm nothing without you. I've never been anything without you."
"Riku—"
"That month I spent hunting with my dad in the Black Forest? I felt like I was losing myself, like I was being suffocated by my own darkness."
"R—"
"And when I was visiting family in Destiny Islands? It felt like I was being eaten alive." Riku's grip on Sora tightened, and when he looked down at the boy in his arms, his eyes were red-rimmed, irritated by the beginnings of tears. "You don't know how it felt, Sora, so don't pretend you know I'll be okay without you."
"You'll still have Kairi—"
"I don't care about Kairi!" Riku regretted the words the moment they left him. He sighed, heavy and hurting. "Of course I care about Kairi, but it's different. I could live without Kairi, but you..."
Sora reached up to squeeze Riku's arm. The grip on his bicep was so weak...
"I know," rasped the boy. "I know what you're...trying to say, but it doesn't...change anything. I'm still..."
"You're not dying!"
Sora's hand slid down Riku's arm, and his eyes closed. "You'll be...okay...Riku..."
"Sora?" Riku's voice was weak, small, disbelieving. He dropped to the ground and his right arm unhooked from Sora's knees to seek out his face. Even through Riku's gloves, he could feel how cold the Sora was. "Sora, don't do this. Y-You've got to hold on. Sora!"
Riku listened hard to the sounds of Sora's labored breathing, to the crackling sound in his throat, until it was replaced by frozen silence.
"S-Sora, don't... You can't, I..."
He didn't notice his own tears until the cold mistral cut into the trails they left behind.
Words no longer came. What good were they? They hadn't even been worth enough for stop a friend from dying in his arms. Instead of speaking, Riku clenched his teeth and bent down low to bury his face in Sora's neck, holding tight onto the empty shell his dearest friend had left behind and sobbing into his collarbone.
Why had he stayed out so long?
Why hadn't he been able to find Roxas before this happened?
Why couldn't Joshua have done something?!
Why couldn't Joshua...
Joshua?
Every muscle in Riku's body hardened. He lifted his head, searching the area frantically.
There wasn't even the slightest trace of the Ankou in sight.
If the Ankou wasn't around, then Sora couldn't possibly—
Riku leaned down, intending to press his ear to Sora's chest to check for a heartbeat, but he'd barely even moved when the Sora in his arms disappeared, leaving only Riku's empty coat behind.
A multitude of emotions, confusion not the least among them, flashed in Riku's eyes as he jumped to his feet. He didn't bother putting his coat back on. That didn't matter. That could wait.
He ran through the forest, past the trees, cutting through bushes rather than around if they dared to get in his path. In thirty minutes' time, Riku reached the edge of the woods, panting, but not slowing. If anything, he hastened, pushing past the streets and onto Sora's front step.
He burst inside, ignoring the entirety of the living room for the sake of running frenetically into Sora's bedroom.
At the edge of his bed, in his night clothes, his feet hanging over the edge, eyes wide with concern, sat Sora.
For the second time that night, Riku felt tears roll down his cheeks. His coat dropped to the floor, forgotten. He loped forward, paying not the least bit of nevermind to the tracks of snow and mud he left in his wake.
"Riku? What's—"
Before Sora could so much as finish his question, he had been pulled into Riku's arms. Breathy, relieved sobs shuddered as they fell from Riku's lips. Tears mingled with Sora's hair, leaving the boy as incredulous as he was worried.
Riku felt a pair of strong, albeit thin arms wrap around him to still his trembling shoulders. Sora's hands were warm, not at all like the ignis fatuus within the forest. "Riku, are you...crying?"
Riku laughed once in spite of himself, a harsh sound. He couldn't blame Sora for being surprised. It was no accident that the boy had never seen Riku cry before. Riku was supposed to be the strong one, the one Sora was supposed to rely on.
"Um... Do you want to talk about it, or...?"
Riku swallowed, shaking his head at Sora's question. The last thing he wanted was to relive that horror.
"Okay," whispered Sora, gentle and understanding as always. "We don't have to. Geez, you're so cold." His arms tightened around Riku, trying to warm him. "Want some tea? You're better at making it, but I could—"
"I'll do it."
Sora hesitantly pulled back and looked at Riku's face, searching it for answers. "Okay," he said warily. "Only if you want to, though." He reached up, smiling as he swept Riku's tears away. "I'll be right here.
"I'm not going anywhere, okay?"