Time doesn't really mean much here, Sora realizes. Maybe time doesn't exist anymore at all. That doesn't exactly seem possible, but then, none of this whole mess really feels all that possible.
In all good sense, this should be a dream. But despite all evidence pointing that way, it just doesn't feel like one. Sora knows it's not a dream. He doesn't know why he knows, but he just… knows it.
That doesn't stop him from wishing he'd just wake up already.
Roxas won't stop crying.
Maybe it's because of Roxas's weeping. Maybe it's from that helpless guilt that comes with being completely unable to fix it or console him. Maybe it's the timeless amount of time Sora has to sit and ponder now that he has to wait for Roxas to put himself back together.
Literally. Roxas keeps crumbling and melting and oozing and sometimes disappearing entirely in a weird burst of dark light. The first time it happened, Sora nearly panicked (no, no, nonono don't leave me here alone) but Roxas popped himself back into shape relatively quickly so he could continue with his crying. After a few times of that, it stopped being so scary. Just numbly terrible.
Whatever the reason, the truth that Sora's been pointedly ignoring shoves its way to the forefront of his mind. Roxas is right: everything is over. Capital-E Ended. But what the hell does that even mean?
Clearly something still exists or he and Roxas wouldn't even be here, right? And if he and Roxas still exist in some way, then everyone else must as well. They have to.
But that doesn't mean they exist in a way where they'll ever get to see each other again.
Sora tries to push the thought down and seal it tightly away, despite the awful Knowing.
(No frowning, no sad face, okay? This boat runs on happy faces!)
But the truth doesn't budge and stays stubbornly Known.
It doesn't hit him like a thunderclap the way it seemed to hit Roxas. Instead, it seeps in like icy waters, slowly chilling him to the core.
It had seemed bizarre to Sora how fantastically Roxas had broken down. Surreal in how long he's been crying. Kind of dramatic, honestly, though Sora would never say anything so mean out loud. No one can control their heart, after all. But as the cold realization finally settles inside Sora, he understands. It doesn't seem dramatic at all anymore.
He doesn't notice he's started crying until he's halfway sunk into the nonexistent ground, tears mixing with a puddle of himself like iridescent ripples of oil. He gasps around sob, hastily shoving his form back together so he can bury his face in the crook of his arm. He turns away from Roxas, curling inward as frigid waves of pain and horror crash into him.
It is gone. Everything. Everyone.
Why? How does this just happen? Hollow terror engulfs him, his nails sink into his arms where he clings to himself. He can't breathe. He doubts he has lungs for it to matter, but his chest crushes in regardless.
After everything he's struggled for, fought for, he'll never go home again, will he? He'll never see his friends again, Riku -
Sudden warmth makes Sora jolt.
Roxas's chest is against Sora's back. No - slightly inside Sora's back with the way Sora's body struggles to keep shape. Roxas's arms wrap tightly around Sora's middle, hands pushing against Sora's melting torso to keep it held in place. Everywhere Roxas presses against him, Sora can taste sea salt and tears and laughter and fathomless loneliness.
"It's okay," Roxas whispers, tear-soaked cheek pressed against Sora's own.
It's definitely not okay. They both know everything is absolutely not okay.
It's okay to cry.
Sora clasps the back of Roxas's hands where they hold him and slumps into the embrace, finding himself solid again in the warmth. He bows his head.
And he cries.
They don't talk about it after. Because really, that's not the sort of thing you talk about and it's actually kind of embarrassing. And if Sora's feeling embarrassed, Roxas probably is, too. So. They don't talk about it. It wouldn't change anything, anyway.
But they do eventually get up and start roaming around again. It's getting easier for Sora's body to stay in the correct shape without needing to focus on it, and the world is starting to make a little more sense around them. The ground stays mostly under their shoes, the sky mostly above their heads, and there are fewer floating chunks of matter to dodge.
Not that it isn't still fragmented and weird. It's utter patchwork at best. A few yards of Traverse Town settled into a nook within Beast's library. The sands of Agraba in place of Arendelle's snow. Things like that. At least it makes for an interesting landscape, even if it always changes too quickly to get a good look at each passing mosaic.
Every so often, Sora's awareness is jarred with sudden dark corridors and stern frowns in orange classrooms and closing gates and a heavy weight in his hands; fragments of consciousness not his own when Roxas accidentally brushes against him as they walk. It happens often enough that Sora steals curious glances over at his sole companion. Bumping into each other now and then is normal - Sora can't count the times he's tripped over Riku or Donald or Goofy or Kairi or even the occasional stranger. But it didn't happen this frequently.
Each time, Roxas mutters an apology and scoots a step away, eyes darting to stare at some oddity floating nearby. It's obvious he's sticking close. Hovering, even. The idea that he might be keeping an eye on Sora or is worried makes Sora feel… it's hard to say. Some part of him appreciates the concern, but mostly it makes him feel a little sick. Like he's failing.
He forces himself to smile and make a joke about the hodgepodge of weirdness around them but Roxas just returns the gesture with a complicated expression. The next time Roxas brushes against Sora, the impressions that Sora soaks in feel… warped. Long winding corridors. Shifting sands. Exhaustion and empty tower staircases.
A cold weight of defeat settles inside Sora like an amplifier to the rivets of pain persistently holding on.
Sora looks down at his chest where opalescent pikes shimmer through him. Hastily, he tries to will them away, but staunch, transparent remnants remain as telltale glimmers in his chest. Hopefully faint enough Roxas can't see. Why are these things so stubborn when his own body wants to poof away whenever it wants?
He only notices the world around them has shifted again when Roxas stumbles. Sora looks over in time to see Roxas take a step back, nearly losing his balance a second time as his foot doesn't keep completely solid with the ground. But it's the unsettled look on Roxas's face that makes Sora pause to look around.
The pipes around them jut out at wrong angles and richly colored flooring creeps its way up into the walls, but there's no doubt of the location. Hollow Bastion's castle. More firmly in place than their previous surroundings for some reason. Maybe with enough time, the world will figure itself out on its own into something more sensical and stable?
Abrupt sensations of a keyblade in his chest, his heart breaking free, a sensation of falling.
At first, Sora thinks the disturbingly tactile memories come from himself. But then he notices the way Roxas has shrunk against him, their contact once again blending Roxas's psyche thickly through Sora like a tangible object.
But they're both getting the hang of it now. Of keeping themselves concrete and substantial. So rather than the unnerving tactility of another body melding into his own alongside the sensations of Roxas's mind drenching into him, Sora can instead feel the physical press of Roxas against his side. And the slight shake of Roxas's frame.
Oh.
Roxas hasn't been hovering for Sora's sake. Or at least not entirely. He's probably also been quietly seeking comfort from Sora. And just isn't admitting it.
Sora glances around at the castle - the place of Roxas's… creation - before resting a hand on Roxas's shoulders with a small squeeze. Roxas twitches under the touch but doesn't pull away, instead looks over to Sora from the corner of his eyes. This time when Sora smiles at him, Roxas gives a small smile back.
The light, fizzy feeling Roxas's smile brings comes with a twist of guilt low in Sora's gut. It's Sora's fault this place brings bad feelings for Roxas in the first place.
And, man. What does Sora even do with that, even? Sure, it brings bad feelings and his knee-jerk is to apologize, but at the same time… would that come across like he's sorry for his actions? They'd both know he's lying. He'd make that sacrifice a thousand times to help Kairi.
Would it come across like he regrets that Roxas exists at all?
Unexplainable shame makes Sora's gut feel sour. And what's up with that? He doesn't even have a gut right now! At least, he doesn't think so. But the sourness in his not-even-there stomach must show on his face because the little smile that Roxas had offered falls.
Sora jerks his head away, gives the jumbled, uncanny halls of the castle a hard look. With enough concentration, he's able to force them to melt away. The rich golds and greens of the castle blend into something muddy, but as they sink to the ground, vibrant purples and blues are left in their wake.
But this time the disjointed world left around them looks exactly correct.
Sora wants to laugh at the pointed irony. Islands of broken worlds float in scraggly chunks through the violet atmosphere enveloping them and an oppressive feeling from outside his own heart presses down on him. The End of the World.
He barely did enough to help then. He barely was able to get things together enough to pull through and fix it. He wouldn't have been able to without Donald and Goofy. And even though they were able to get things fixed enough to save some of those fallen worlds, the memory is marred by others that come with it. The solemn resolve of letting Kairi go home alone. The cold understanding of what had to happen as that door began to close with Riku still on the other side. The knowledge that despite all his efforts, he couldn't fix it. He couldn't bring his friends back together and go home. At least not in that moment.
And what now? Did any of that even matter? Sora couldn't prevent this either. Whatever this really is.
Absorbed by his own dark clouds, Sora doesn't notice the way Roxas is curiously looking around the new environment until Roxas takes a large, leaping step from their tiny chunk of land onto the next. Once there, Roxas pauses to peer around the broken landscape with a perplexed frown, before looking back to meet Sora's gaze.
There's a blink of something that passes behind Roxas's eyes, so fast Sora only just manages to catch it. A sort of raw understanding mixed with something else that Sora can almost place. But not quite. Like that feeling of a word caught at the tip of his tongue.
And then the world shifts again. Not melting this time, but breaking like glass. And as the shards fall, colors invert around them. Purples become yellows and blues become orange. Sudden vertigo makes Sora's stomach swoop like it did in Hollow Bastion's lifts when they rose or sank too quickly.
This time, Sora's pretty sure Roxas is the one who puts the world back together around them, because when Sora shakes away the dizzying orange bricks that get stuck into his temple, they're standing together in a place more realized than the ones they were in before. Though it's still not exactly what Sora would call 'correct.'
It's another sort of amalgamation. Twilight Town's clocktower stands behind them in perfect, vivid detail, but Station Heights doesn't overlook the warm tones of sunset as it should. Instead, deep blacks and blues cut by harsh neon lights flicker in an endless city that expands into the distance below them.
Weirdly, the city is more impressionistic than the clocktower, save for one street. Sora stares down at it, puzzled by the contrast in detail, before he thinks to check on Roxas - he's clearly the one who's made sense of things to be this way.
Roxas's clothes have changed again. Whatever indecisive clothing he'd been wearing has lost all resemblance of anything from his closet in Twilight Town. Instead, his Organization coat lays over him in a way that comes off as decidedly confident, like it knows exactly why and how it's replaced everything else.
The look in Roxas's eyes read the same way, but he's not looking at his clothes. No, he's staring down at that one vivid street with sober understanding. Sora follows Roxas's stare back to the clear street. It's so concrete considering how far away it is. So different from the lack of stable space they've been working with. He squints at it. Flickers of memories Roxas has shared with him tug at Sora's mind and he can feel the importance of the street. But those memories always feel a little more distant than his own. Harder to fully remember and understand, like recalling a dream with details that come and go at their own volition.
"I've left them behind again," Roxas says hollowly.
The emptiness in his tone sends a spike of alarm through Sora, little barbs rippling up his spine as he jerks his head to look back at Roxas. His face is as flat as his voice.
At one time, Sora might have blamed the impassive expression on having no heart, or even just remnants of learning to function through life without one. But Sora's too intimately aware now of how strongly Roxas feels to fall into that trap.
Honestly, it's the inverse: emotions so powerful, he just shuts down. Like they're too strong to properly express at all, so his heart gives up on trying.
"What do you mean?" The wooden sound of his own voice surprises Sora. He swallows around the tight feeling in his throat.
Roxas shakes his head and turns to look up at the clocktower. His eyes fix on something Sora can't see, somewhere in the open air just before the tower. Despite how firmly Roxas's appearance has asserted itself in this location, it mutates. His fingers curl into the spiky tendrils of a Nobody's aura as more try to worm out an opening in his chest. His eyes fall in and out of shadows, either too dark to read, or so bright with pain they're difficult to see.
He looks down at his aberrant hands and makes a sound that Sora is reluctant to call a laugh, despite the twisted smile that bares Roxas's teeth. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he opens his mouth.
"I-"
But whatever Roxas was about to say is lost when his head abruptly swivels to the edge of space. It happens so fast, Sora barely catches an impression of some sort of figure. Not a shadow, not really, but something strange and familiar. Cloaked in black and tiny and big with a taste in the air that reminds Sora of red and soft indigo.
Roxas bolts towards the figure, a fist brushing through Sora's arm as he passes.
Everything upends. Laughter and soft touches and desperation and clanging weapons crash into Sora. He loses his legs completely, only managing to get his knees back in place to catch his fall to the ground.
Sora's head spins from the shock. But his own gasp is drowned out by the breathy cry Roxas makes, a sound so wounded that Sora's body instinctively jerks to find the danger. He looks just in time to see Roxas reach out to the discordant figure. But the moment his hands grasp at the figure's arm, everything vanishes.
Sense and reason crumble back to the nothingness they began with. It's only on reflex that Sora keeps an invisible ground solid beneath them both. From behind, Sora can't see Roxas's expression, but his shoulders sag and his form blurs around the edges.
Heart thudding loudly and painfully in his throat, Sora rises to his feet and carefully walks over to Roxas's side.
Roxas's face is blank again, but his eyes are void of anything but pain as they stare down, locked on the hand still held out in front of him, closed around empty air into a fist. Roxas draws his hand back and, one finger at a time, uncurls his hand to reveal a single Thalassa shell, glittering with flames that flicker around its edges.
With an injured sound, Roxas drops the shell, recoiling as though burnt.
Sora's still not sure time exists here, but it still manages to slow as the shell hits the ground, sinking partway into the softest of sands. For a beat, they both just stare at the shell. And then a world blooms around them again, growing and branching out around them. Palm trees spring up like blossoms and warm waters rush to hug their ankles.
Like the mismatched world Roxas put together, Destiny Island appears in crisp detail. But it's not perfect. The small island with the crooked paopu tree is too big, the treehouses too small and shoved too far away. The Secret Place is embedded near the little pond rather than tucked away into its proper alcove. But it's all there, content to surround them in a way that's more logical than not.
Sora blinks down at the friendly waters at his feet. He didn't try to make the world appear like this, but he must have. Roxas wouldn't have reas- well, he wouldn't have as much reason to put this particular world together for them.
"What happened?" Sora asks. He's not quite sure himself which part he means as he says it - the change in location or whatever Roxas just tried - but he reaches a hand out to gently squeeze Roxas's fingers with a forefinger and thumb. Lightly enough to let Roxas pull away in case he really was burned somehow. Lightly enough to minimize the amount of blend that happens to their cognizance. "Are you okay?"
Roxas regards Sora with a dim expression before he shakes his head. He doesn't elaborate, and Sora doesn't ask him to. Sora just hopes the ropes of worthlessness that tighten around his chest aren't manifesting physically this time. The last thing Sora needs to be doing is adding to Roxas's pain.
Forcing his mouth to curve into a reassuring smile, Sora gives Roxas's hand a tighter squeeze, fully pressing their palms together this time. Clearer strokes of people sink into Sora at the contact. Lea. Xion. Hayner. Pence. Olette. Smudges of people Sora doesn't recognize but come mixed with classrooms and struggle tournaments.
Right.
The hurt laces through Sora like a wire whip, but it eases when Roxas's hand squeezes back. Roxas doesn't loosen his hold on Sora's hand. Instead, he offers the faintest, saddest smile in return. Sora's smile pulls into something more genuine. For a moment, he can ignore the hurt.
Well, maybe not ignore it, but he can take respite in the warmth of Roxas's gesture. He hurts. They both hurt. But still, they have each other. That's something worth smiling about.
Do the others have this? Riku? Kairi?
Sora's core again coils tightly with guilt. Why hasn't he manifested some version of them in this place at the end of existence? The way Roxas chased some semblance of Lea and Xion? Maybe Roxas cares more.
Sora's body bursts into a flash of dark energy in rejection at the thought. Roxas flinches and, shoving his body back together, Sora throws Roxas an apologetic look. Losing his body for a beat separates their hands but he doesn't move to rejoin them.
Why is Roxas here? Maybe Roxas was right, they're still connected somehow. Maybe Kairi has Naminé with her. Sora hopes so. She shouldn't be left alone again. But what about Riku? Everyone else? It's not fair they should be alone when Sora at least has Roxas here with him. It feels wrong to be thankful for the company if no one else can have it, if it means Roxas is somehow still not truly his own self.
"You know," Roxas teases lightly, "If you get lost in your head any deeper, you might actually make some sense of this world after all, but I'm not sure I want you taking all the credit."
Sora blinks and cringes. "Sorry."
"Don't be."
Of all the places on the Island that shouldn't hurt, it's the Secret Place. Yet when Sora wanders over to where the etchings on the wall have painted themselves across the wall near the pond, the sight of two things cause the cave to instantaneously curl around him and contract, swallowing him into a small pocket of just the Door and the carving Sora had made with Kairi.
He whirls, heart leaping to his throat at the sudden enclosure. The edge of his panic lessens when he sees Roxas still behind him, looking just as bewildered. Their surroundings up until this point had been reluctant to form clear edges and endings, but now they're entirely encircled. Sora's never been claustrophobic and yet he feels as though the cave walls will crush them any second.
Roxas looks to Sora, opens his mouth, pauses, closes it. Tilting his head, he scans Sora in a way that makes him feel way too exposed. Naked. But he mercifully turns to stare around the little cave they've been trapped in.
It's the Secret Place except not. Just a tiny little bubble of it, holding only the Door, Sora and Kairi's drawing, and the cool sand beneath them. Other etchings on the wall swim in and out of existence, never fully forming into anything real. Just ideas of ideas, like the cave remembers they ought to be there but can't grasp any details.
Roxas is staring at the Door. It looms, larger than it should be. The warm woods and golds of the door streak with passing white hues, stained glass trying to embed itself ornamentally in places where it doesn't belong. It nags at Sora's mind, but not so much as the cave drawing.
The childish scribbles grate like the sharp stones that created them. The fresher marks that dig stars into the stone cut into Sora even more sharply.
"Do you think he saw this?" Sora abruptly asks.
"Huh?" Roxas twists to frown at him quizzically.
Sora gestures halfheartedly at the drawing. "Riku. What if that's why…"
Sora looks away, unable to finish the thought. His eyes stick to the sand like they're glued there, unable to even face Roxas. Which is stupid. Roxas of all people knows what Sora did. What that might have meant to Riku if he saw the drawing that night. Maybe that's why that same exact night, Riku opened that Door. Sora's never asked, but. But.
"Probably," Roxas answers after a moment of thick silence. His tone isn't what Sora would call emotionless this time, but there's no real judgment or sympathy in it either. Just matter-of-fact.
Shame and guilt claw up Sora's gut like a rat scrabbling against the slick walls of a water pail. Sudden weakness makes Sora sink to the ground, but hey, at least his body stayed in one piece this time. He laughs pitifully and leans his forehead against the cave wall.
"Some friend I am, huh?" Sora mutters wryly.
The sands shift as Roxas sits beside him. But under Roxas's weight, it sounds more like pebbles sliding against each other than proper sand. With how close he sits, Sora should be able to feel heat from Roxas's body. He doesn't.
"Riku taking something that had nothing to do with him personally doesn't make you a bad friend, Sora," Roxas says. His voice is controlled, like there's more he wants to say but is holding back.
Sora wilts. "It doesn't matter. I should have been a better friend. I should have noticed or, I don't know, reached out more or something. Or at least apologized, and now I'll -" never get to, his mind finishes, but he can't bring himself to choke out the words. Can't bring himself to face that possibility quite yet.
"And what?" Roxas asks. This time, the edge of something sharp enters his voice. "You fought through literal worlds to find him, despite the fact that he was being a complete ass. What more could you have done?"
There's logic in what Roxas is saying, but if Sora does still have his heart here, it doesn't want to hear it.
Sora shakes his head. "I should have been more aware. I shouldn't have left Kairi alone, either, when I know she doesn't like that. But I was selfish and just wanted her safe so I could focus on Riku. And, and I -" Sora shakes his head again, hoping Roxas magically misses the way his voice turns to reeds. "I should have been a better friend."
Distantly, Sora's notices how subdued Roxas looks, his shoulders drawn in, frown pinched in a narrow line. Sora should stop. He's just making a bad situation worse, blubbering like this, but for some reason he can't. Everyone is gone. He needs them, and they're gone.
"And this!" Sora bursts, waving around at the non-world around them. The motion makes the cave around them rupture. It bursts away like a water balloon to expose the nothingness behind it. "I should have been able to stop all this from happening, too! I'm a Guardian of Light, that's my job!"
"You're not the only Guardian of Light," Roxas says. His voice is strange, and not just the stiff tone of it. For a moment, it doubles like he's speaking through two sets of vocal chords, one not his own. "If the Keyblade Bearers are at all responsible for preventing this, we're all at fault, not just you." A pause. "You know, for someone who talks about how much you rely on your friends, you sure like to take all the responsibility on yourself."
Sora stills. "I…" Words of protest escape him, and when Sora tries again, all he manages is a weak: "It's not your fault."
"I know. So you have to agree it's not yours either."
Sora doesn't respond. This isn't his friends' fault. He doesn't doubt that for a second - his entire being rejects the idea. So Roxas has to be right that it's not Sora's fault, either. But Sora just can't bring himself to agree. Not honestly.
Why?
"It's not your fault, Sora," Roxas says again. He sights and tilts his head to force Sora to meet his eyes. "And you are a good friend."
Sora wonders why he doesn't believe him, but says, "Thanks."
Roxas dips his head, eyes looking off to where the ground should be. He tilts forward, hesitates, and then follows through to press his forehead against Sora's shoulder. The flickers Sora gets from Roxas are fainter this time. Maybe Roxas is figuring out how to control that, or maybe Sora's just getting used to it.
Either way, the press of Roxas against Sora speaks more words than he says out loud. Sora just wishes he fully understood what those words were. But maybe it's a good thing Sora doesn't know. Just one more layer of proof of how different Roxas is from him.
Sora twists his neck to rest his temple on Roxas's head. The position is awkward and should be uncomfortable, but the benefit of bodies that keep morphing all over the place is that awkward positions don't mean much. There's no pain from staying like this for a while.
And so they do.
Eons pass. Entire eternities pass. And there's just pain and remorse. And Roxas.
And there's Roxas.