Chapter 4: Fizzy paopu juice works too.

It's the closest to the same page they come to regarding this tentative friendship.

Friendship still tastes funny on his tongue, but he tries. He really tries, if not for his sake, then at least for Kairi's.

Roxas is not a complete stranger to friendships.

Granted, he's not entirely the best source of the meaning of it all, much less a good friendship. The only one he can safely refer to is Sora, and maybe Axel (when he's not being a total asshole).

But Roxas admittedly is not well-versed in friendships when it comes to girls. Now, Roxas isn't a chauvinist or completely repelled by them. It's – well – he doesn't have the practice.

The only girl he can actually maybe call an acquaintance is probably Olette. But that's only because Hayner is dating her, and he's forced to stumble through awkward pleasantries when they're all together.

Being thrown into this quasi-friendship with Kairi feels like walking around in the dark with a flashlight, but also he's blindfolded. Which completely defeats the purpose of having the light. Whatever he thought he knew about friendship is thrown out and replaced with something else entirely.

For one, Kairi is attentive, noticing perhaps everything about him. She offers him lotion at the end of practice for his hands that are dry, cracking, and absolutely parched for some moisture. She knows his coffee order, and even remembers which milk substitute he prefers (she carries around lactose enzyme pills, for Kingdom Heart's sake!).

Kairi also teases him, which is something he's extremely used to with Axel and even on occasion Sora. The only difference is it's usually followed by something else, a lip quirk or a giggle, that has his heart pounding some obscure dance he'll never learn. It's a very halfhearted attempt at insults that usually make him laugh despite himself.

That's perhaps the main thing he's noticed – he's laughing more. It catches him off guard at first. How easily she manages to draw it out of him. Kairi, similar to Sora, always had a knack for putting people in a good mood. He just never expected it to affect him so profoundly.

That's to be expected, he thinks. She's always been used to people fawning over her, as Sora's girl.

The S is a huge elephant in the room, but one that they both refuse to acknowledge. Which Roxas is partly grateful for. The other, smaller, groveling side hadn't realized that once the spotlight over the subject vanished, he'd actually miss it.

No one outwardly comments on their budding friendship, at least not to his face. Axel has done enough to make sure he doesn't forget about it though. If the sly remarks and pointed glances, whenever the two speak to each other in public, are any obvious indication.

Thankfully, Roxas is not exactly concerned with the opinion of those around him. A skill he had developed growing up was tuning the obnoxious gossip out.

If there's anyone's opinion that actually matters, it's just one.

That very person is standing across from Roxas, gingerly stretching his arm, before another impromptu Struggle practice.

Roxas isn't sure this is a very good idea. Sure, it's only a dislocated shoulder, but he can't imagine Sora is fully recovered.

"It's just a little sore," he says. Roxas flushes, cursing himself for staring so blatantly.

He wraps his hand around the hilt of his club tightly, looking for something else to distract himself, other than Sora's new addition to physical therapy.

He still feels really bad about the entire thing. Especially with the regional Struggle tournament hovering over them, it's not a good sign that the team's star player is recovering from an injury. It's even worse that said injury came from a fellow teammate.

"Maybe we should just do a few drills today, instead," Roxas says, wincing when Sora rotates his arm.

"No way!"

Roxas sighs, defeated, as Sora hops up on the arena. It's no use to detract him from whatever he wants.

I suppose Sora is stubborn in his own way.

Roxas leans into his signature dueling stance, legs bent, both hands clutching his weapon. He's startled when he sees Sora mirroring him exactly.

A playful smirk grows on his face as if reading Roxas's apprehension.

Well, this is new.

But he doesn't mention anything. It's as if the moment he outwardly acknowledges it, the spell will be broken. The harmony is unyielding, almost strengthening every time they're on opposing sides of the arena. The mirroring styles just reinforce this, sending a thrill of adrenaline inside Roxas.

There's a tense silence for a few seconds. One where Roxas, for the first time (one of the rare times), feels their sameness seeping into the stage. Perhaps that's the real reason why he appreciates Sora so much, why he craves his respect, why he seeks validation.

Sora sees him.

An unspoken countdown begins between their focused gazes and then they're off, both charging at one another. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The crossing of clubs is a force that vibrates in Roxas's hands. He backs up, aiming for a swift uppercut. Sora brings down his club to match him. Clang. Another forceful crash.

Roxas stumbles back, panting. Sweat beads at his forehead, and he wipes it away quickly before it can get in his eyes. He watches as Sora does the same.

So in sync.

Roxas lets out a short chuckle that Sora returns.

This addictive sensation. This rush, this level of camaraderie, this indistinguishable meeting of equals. No matter what any algorithm says, he can't give this up.

It's as if his own identity is tied to Sora, and the threat, however large or minuscule, of losing it terrifies Roxas to his core. Who would he be without Sora?

No.

He wouldn't trade it for this world.

The hours escape them. Roxas doesn't even realize when the sky has fallen into its sleepy twilight shade, blanketing the town in the familiar pre-slumber.

Roxas and Sora hike their way up the winding street corners, bone-tired. Roxas's muscles protest with every step they take uphill, but it's incredibly satisfying. And from the content little smile on Sora's face, he knows his friend agrees.

"I wish we could be like this all the time," Sora says. Roxas falters.

"We practice nearly every day, Sora."

Sora's smile turns furtive. "I know that. I just mean, me and you. I don't think anyone else takes Struggle as seriously."

Roxas internally preens beneath the praise, fighting down the smile that pleads to break out. As soon as the giddy feeling hits him though, he's beaten down with a wave of contradicting self-doubt and guilt.

A walking contradiction of emotions.

"Someone has to keep you on your toes."

Sora throws his head back and laughs unabashedly. It's contagious, and soon Roxas finds himself laughing softly.

"Let's do this more often," he says. "Just us."

There's the natural enthusiasm in his tone, but there's something else, some twinge that alerts Roxas and has him wheeling around to look at him. Roxas almost has half a mind to blurt out the first thought that comes to mind.

What about Kairi?

He blames it on the newfound friendship. He blames it on the weight of her presence, now a constant in his life, that brings his thoughts to her even at the most inconvenient times. Especially, at moments like this when he should be focused on his friendship with Sora.

They stop at a crossroads; the open underground tunnel, leading off to Sora's district in one direction, and then down the cobbled path passing Market Street, to Roxas's. This is where they part ways, but Sora hesitates.

"Did I freak you out?" Sora asks.

"No, you didn't." Roxas hopes his assurance is enough, but there's a crease that forms between Sora's brows. He knows he should drop it. He should. He's not even technically Sora's closest friend or confidant, and he shouldn't be nosing into his business like this. But –

"Sora, what's wrong?"

Sora shifts the bag on his arm, twirling the strap for a moment. "Just thinking."

He's thinking.

Does he need to sound the alarm? Alert all of Twilight Town that Sora has been - dare he say it - brooding?

"About friends, the future," Sora says quietly. "Existential stuff."

Existential stuff?

He hadn't even realized Sora knew what that meant. He studies Sora closely, filing the micro shifts in his expression for later when he's lying in his bed obsessing over every interaction. It's become a nightly ritual since he's received those test results. It begins with Kairi, it always begins with her, and then inevitably it falls into his friendship with Sora. His mind always ends up drifting to the worst-case scenarios that leave him shaking with contempt.

"Maybe you should be talking to Kairi about this," Roxas finally says. At this, Sora's expression changes. It's not quite a wince, but there's a lack of the usual upward tilt of his lips, that unrelenting optimism Roxas had always admired. "Or Riku?" Roxas adds, uncertainly.

"Riku's too busy with his new internship at DiZ's lab," Sora says, with a frown, "and Kairi, well, she's been different."

Roxas feels himself freeze over, limbs frosted completely, feverish heart becoming arctic.

"Different how?"

Sora shrugs. "Just different, like, distracted."

Guilt pools, melting his icicle state until all that's left is the runny residue of shame. He looks away, unable to offer a response, anything. Sora doesn't seem to mind, off in his own pensive thoughts that leave Roxas leaden with panic.

"Ah, anyway, up for more sparring tomorrow?" Sora pops his worried bubble, nudging him on the shoulder. His sore arm protests, but he manages a weak grin.

"We need to talk," Roxas says without any introduction. He's tracked her down at the cafe in Tram Common, with a few of her friends, sans Sora thankfully.

The coffee shop is busy, and bustling as a few servers dip around him. He nearly stumbles onto her table but catches himself on the edge.

"Well, hello to you too," Kairi says, arching a brow, and setting her coffee down. Her eyes give him a once over that would embarrass him, but there's no time for that right now. She exchanges a look with the girls at her table. Some Roxas only vaguely know. He recognizes Olette, who waves from the opposite end.

Normally, he would be mortified with all of these eyes on him talking to Kairi, but desperate times call for desperate measures. After his sparring afternoon with Sora, he'd been up all night troubled by guilty thoughts, particularly worse guilty thoughts than he was used to. It had been promptly followed by dreams of remorse, nightmares of Sora whacking him repeatedly over the head with a giant key, and threats of being banished to darkness.

"It's about Sora," Roxas says, once they're out of earshot of the girls. Kairi's playful expression fades.

"You told him?"

He doesn't miss the way she perks up. It gives him pause, suddenly struck with the fear that maybe this isn't the best person to go to.

Don't be ridiculous, she wouldn't say anything.

"No. But I think he suspects," Roxas says. Nerves hit him like a barrelling steam engine, broken brakes, and a short-lived train track cut off. He winces waiting from the wreckage. "He knows something's up with you."

At this, Kairi frowns. He's beginning to recognize this type of frown. She's offended.

"With me?" Kairi says. Her eyes narrow. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Roxas hisses. He leans in closer, worried that her friends, who have now been casting their curious glances at them, will hear.

"Moping around all the time," Kairi continues.

"I do not mope." Now he's offended.

Whatever agreed-upon friendly terms they came to evaporate the more that they glare at each other. Of course, she doesn't back down. It's as if he's met his match in the stubbornness department.

With a groan, he wipes his face with his hand, as if trying to rid himself of the anxiety and frustration that had been pressing upon him, exacerbated by the jolly atmosphere.

He doesn't have time for this silly back and forth. Yet it's starting to become an annoying occurrence. And from the way Kairi challenges him, it's as if she decides they have all the time in the world for petty arguments. Roxas sighs, before getting straight to the point.

"He said you've been acting weird. So stop." Well, he isn't exactly known for his eloquence. Kairi brings her hands to her hips.

"Excuse me?"

Roxas rolls his eyes, expecting the tirade. Not that he's ever witnessed one coming from her. But he knows enough about girls to recognize the defensive posture. Here comes the lecture. He'd heard enough about this from Hayner during his many rants regarding Olette after he'd been dumped for the fifth time. Or had it been sixth? Roxas has never kept count of Hayner's girl failures. They had never interested him. Though staring down at Kairi's growing annoyance, he suddenly wishes had paid at least a little attention.

Roxas is not sure if it's something on his face that makes her pause. Unexpectedly (and to his utter relief), she slackens, exhaling soundly, and looking away.

"Maybe it's better that we say something, then."

"No." His response is immediate, surprising not only himself but her as well.

"Roxas," she says. He hates the way the same tingle erupts, twisting his insides into that fluttery feeling. "I can't keep this from him anymore."

"You've done it for this long."

"You're joking."

No. He is definitely not joking.

Kairi laughs humorlessly. "And here I thought we were finally getting along."

His eyes peer over her shoulder, glancing at the table. He makes eye contact with one of her friends, and they avert their gaze instantly.

"Unbelievable," Kairi mutters under her breath, before pushing past him and returning to her table. She deliberately sits with her back to him.

Whatever the case, he feels like he's royally screwed this entire thing up.

In a twisted turn of events, Kairi is the one avoiding him.

He takes it as a blessing initially.

Finally, finally, she understands the gravity of the situation. How easily the lines can blur. How tentative this secret was.

But once the satisfaction of being right sinks and fades, Roxas is left with the cutting indifference. No longer are there impromptu coffee orders or fruity hand lotions at the end of practice.

He starts noticing her absence, like a big gaping hole, a chasm of withdrawal.

It's not like he's seeking her out, but it becomes obvious that she's purposely made herself scarce.

It's for the best, he tries to tell himself. But the growing ache begins to gnaw at him. At collective gatherings, she hardly pays him any mind. Not even the polite pleasantries that they had graduated from.

It's — depressing.

Now that he's privy to her undivided attention, it seems that her loss is felt immensely.

On the other hand, he sees a lot more of Sora. They hit the practice arena nearly every day. Sora is recovering quickly and is now able to properly defend himself against Roxas's strikes.

It's fine. It's great even, having all of this time to focus completely on Struggle, to not have his mind threatened by the one thing that had been drifting over him for a month now.

But his chest aches every time he looks over at the empty bench. His stomach sinks every trip down to Tram Common to pick up a coffee order and he doesn't see the familiar red hair. Even the Sea Salt ice cream starts to taste like their late-night conversation up at the clock tower.

It's getting ridiculous. Especially when he seriously considers asking Axel about the five love languages again.

He's not sure which is worse, the overwhelming guilt of betraying Sora, or the aching emptiness from Kairi's absence.

Roxas decides enough is enough. After a few cautious, vague questions, he managed to get the location of Kairi's house out of Olette. He tries to calm himself down with the fact that he isn't being too obvious. He's sure she doesn't suspect anything.

But the doubt creeps in when Olette gives him the address and wishes him good luck.

The mayor's estate is in the fancier part of town, the one gated community, in the upper terrace of Twilight Town. Roxas can tell he's in the nicer area by the neat row of shrubbery that follows him up the paved road. The street lamps have become far more intricate, rose gold, matching the terra cotta tile of the sidewalks.

A large, wrought iron gate greets him at the end of the lane, held together by the Twilight Town city seal, etched in shiny gold. The rest of the estate is bordered by a tall, brownstone, brick wall that wraps around the entire perimeter, blocking out any onlookers. Roxas can really only see through the iron gate fence and even that reveals nothing beyond the wide lawn.

He could scale the wall. It's about 6 feet at most. Easy.

However, that idea is quashed when he notices a small booth at the end of the gate labeled SECURITY.

He approaches the booth, meeting the eye of the security guard posted, wary. It's not like he has the best reputation with security guards.

"This is private property, kid."

Roxas bristles at the tone. But he keeps his temper in check, reminding himself that he's not here for any fights.

"My friend lives here." He nods up to the gate. The security guard looks him up and down. Okay; maybe he's not the best dressed to be received by the mayor's daughter, but he isn't a damn peasant. He fidgets with his hoodie self-consciously.

"I'm here to see Kairi." Roxas elaborates, with an eye roll.

"You running around with those hooligans?" The security guard peers around him. "The one that carries around that club?"

Sora.

He deliberates, wondering if in this instance it's wise to mention their friendship. Though, it's unusual to hear such a negative connotation in association with him.

"Nope. Just me," Roxas says.

The security guard squints at him, as if searching for a lie. But after a few seconds of the stare-down, he relents, moving over to the intercom monitor inside his booth. He can vaguely overhear his gruff voice saying his name. There's static, and then — then there's her voice. A question. Silence.

Then the guard is back.

"Alright, go ahead."

The iron gate rolls open, giving Roxas access to the wide driveway. He glances around the property, noting a golden water fountain on the perfectly trimmed lawn. Hedges are lined up against the walls, intermittently, sandwiched between bountiful beds of white roses.

His eyes roam the rest of the property, landing on the large mansion. He lets out a low whistle. It must be at least 3 stories. Ostentatious as hell, with a brick structure, horseshoe driveway, and a wrap-around porch with a gazebo in the corner.

He feels out of place immediately. This is probably one of the contributing factors as to why he and Kairi's worlds never crossed. His scuffed shoes mar the gleaming pavement of the driveway. He can't help but feel like this is the universe giving him a literal manifestation of how much of a stain he's become on Kairi's life.

His doom and gloomy thoughts are put to an end when he looks up and sees Kairi walking down the driveway. Despite the fanciful architecture of her dwellings, Kairi is casual, dressed in loungewear that Roxas finds charming. Against his better judgment.

Not that Kairi has ever been sloppy, but there's something about having the girl in something as loungey as sweats that puts him and his dirty shoes at ease.

The relief fizzes out when she crosses her arms over her chest.

Of course, she'd be defensive. Having this weirdo pop up at her house, with no warning, after their stupid argument.

For his part, he feels extremely awkward, as he waves. Kairi's lips quirk, and he takes it as a good sign.

"Cool fountain." Roxas juts a thumb towards the stone statue, churning merrily across the lawn. Upon closer inspection, he realizes stupidly, that it's a sculpture of a naked woman, with water sprouting out of her raised hand.

Why the hell would anyone have that in their damn yard?

Roxas blushes at his blunder, quickly changing the subject lest she think he's an absolute pervert.

"So, uh, haven't seen you around Tram Common." This is pathetic.

He nearly turns around and scrambles out of there.

"What? You miss me?" Kairi's eyebrows do another one of those dangerous arches. Her tone is sardonic, dripping with the judgment Roxas had been afraid of receiving. Irritation flickers in his chest. Despite himself, he puffs up defensively, probably coming across more as an angry penguin than the wolf he tried to channel.

"It was an observation," he snaps.

"Astute observation."

Roxas bristles, on the verge of saying something just as sarcastic. But he refrains. Her rigid posture half scares him and half annoys him. But the thought of falling back to square one with her terrifies him more.

"I didn't come here to fight," he says.

Kairi's eyes narrow. "What did you come here for?"

The question whacks him stupid and dumb. His tongue feels heavy and his head is spinning with an onslaught of conflicting thoughts. The more he stands there, whatever plan, whatever convictions he had cooked up on his trek has become muddled and uncertain.

He's beginning to realize Kairi has that uncanny effect on his logic.

Roxas glares down at his shoes again. Shame floods him the more he stares at them, noticing the way the rubber has become eroded on the outer side, a byproduct of Struggle practice. His thoughts flutter to Sora. Shame wells up inside of him.

It's all Castle Oblivion and their stupid algorithm. If he hadn't gone. If he'd just stuck to his morals. If he hadn't let Axel push him to do it…

Kairi sighs, making him whip his head back up. She studies him, an indecipherable look in her eyes. But, it doesn't irritate him. It doesn't exactly make him feel all too hot either.

"Come on. We'll talk inside."

Inside, it turns out, is even more lavish than the outside. He's greeted with more marble in the foyer. Columns border the hallways, pristine and white, pairing quite ostensibly with the checkered black and white tile floor. Roxas squints down at the tile, almost certain he can see his reflection.

"We can use the library," Kairi says over her shoulder. He nods dumbly, following after her. Each step feels so clumsy, as she leads him down a long hallway. Mahogany doors line the walls, some labeled with brass plates. He misses a few of the engraved names. But he's sure he spots one that says Mayor's Office.

"In here." Kairi gestures to a large, green double doorway at the end of the hall. She pushes it open.

Roxas is embarrassed by the tiny gasp he makes. He knows Kairi's heard it because of a noise that sounds all too much like a covered snort.

It's a new sound that he logs in his head for future reference.

It's vast. A large circular room, bordered completely by long shelves of books, except for the far end. That dome is reserved for a curtain wall that takes up about a quarter of the perimeter. The sun casts a warm spotlight in the middle of the room, creating a heavenly atmosphere, and making the single, long cherrywood table inviting. There's a lone book on the table, and he idly wonders if he'd interrupted her reading. Roxas doesn't think he's ever been somewhere so beautiful.

His steps echo across the wooden floor, as he approaches the nearest shelf. His eyes scan the titles. A jolt of surprise hits him.

"You've got the 7 of True Lights and Darkness complete set," he says, reading the volumes.

Mava Vol. 6, Maya Vol. 3, Hafet Vol. 4, Salegg Vol. 6, Azal Vol. 8, Theon Vol. 6…

"My dad likes to think of himself as an enlightened thinker," Kairi says, sidling up to him, "they're on loan from the Hollow Bastion library."

"Khama is missing," Roxas murmurs to himself.

"I didn't know you were into philosophy," Kairi continues, as if not hearing him. He tears his eyes away from the shelf. She's watching him again with that indecipherable expression that makes him want to squirm. "You like philosophy. You know the 7 of True Lights and Darkness. Yet, you don't believe in soulmates. A bit of a conundrum, don't you think?"

The 7 of True Lights and Darkness were thought to be the founders of the ethics and philosophy of Kingdom Hearts. The power of creation and the return of all things to its very conception. And every heart was the manifestation of said creation, balanced by both Light and Dark. For every heart, there must be an equal match tied to it to support the balance. One half of a whole.

Castle Oblivion of course bastardized the concept, twisting it, and commercializing it into something AI-driven and tangible.

Society always has a way of ruining things.

Roxas scowls. "I just like to read."

Kairi's lip quirks, and this time he sees it, the dimple fighting its way to appear. He almost has half a mind to say something agreeable, just so it can make an appearance. He resists, moving on to the next shelf.

Kairi follows his steps.

"I didn't know you like to read."

It sounds so juvenile and innocent, almost as if she's making fun of him, but when he peers over at her, she looks genuinely interested. He feels his face warm, shrugging.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

Kairi sighs. "You don't exactly make it easy for me."

He stops and drops his hand from the spines he'd been brushing.

"I'm sorry," he says, turning to look at her. He brings a hand to his face and wipes at it, frustrated. "I'm sorry, Kairi. I'm sorry about everything. I've just been so worried about all of this, thinking about myself. I forgot that you're dealing with this too."

Kairi is silent, watching him practically grovel. Yet, in this quiet space, surrounded by the comfort of books, it's okay. The absolution he'd been so desperate for fills him up, swelling his heart warmly, the more she stares at him.

He doesn't know what he expects. She brushes past him, walks over to the table by the window, and grabs a book. When she returns to his side, she holds it out for him.

He glances down at the title, and a rush of something indescribable hits him.

Khama.

"Master of patience and endurance, forgiveness, hardened to frost and heat." Her lips quirk again. "Bit of light reading."

He feels his lips curve into a smile, despite himself. Which must seem so out of character because Kairi lights up. Her matching grin is wide and he's blessed with the dimple again. Twice in the same hour, this must be a new personal record.

He takes the book from her hands, feeling its sturdy weight and leatherbound body. He catches the bookmark peeking out of the edge. A flyer for the Struggle tournament.

It's impossibly hard to fight the smile from going on his face as he returns the book to its shelf, sliding it between Azral and Theon.

Kairi is beside him, he can feel her eyes on him, as he studies the spines of the now complete set.

Probably a thousand and one questions are running through her head. And for once, for perhaps the very first time, he doesn't feel reluctant to answer them.

The moment is silent and charged, filling the quiet space of the library with something Roxas can't put his finger on. But it's exacerbated by the fluttering in his stomach and the warmth spreading across his cheeks.

"So," he says, finally breaking the companionable silence. "Any other fancy rooms you got?"

A peace offering. A friendly extension of connection.

Kairi's smile turns furtive.

It's not the only fancy room in this estate. But he figured. As someone only accustomed to a single-family home, with at best 3 bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, this is a never-ending maze.

Kairi gives him a hasty tour of the first floor, pointing out the kitchen currently occupied by the cooks. It's wide and earthy, with a stone island encompassing the majority of the center. Warm, inviting overhead lights shine against the pans sizzling up something that makes Roxas's stomach growl.

"You're staying for dinner," Kairi says as if sensing his hunger. Roxas opens his mouth to complain, but Kairi drags him down another endless hallway. She shows him a home theater down in the basement that mimics the one at Sunset Terrace, with large oversized red recliners. There's a wine cellar, damp, dark, and drafty, making him feel like he's entered a cave. The fitness gym is bright and spacious even with all the bulky equipment bordering the room (he glances at the bench press curiously). The game room, Roxas's personal favorite, reminds him fondly of his favorite childhood arcade. Fuzzy, whacky carpeted floor, whirling lights, he thinks he may even spot his favorite gummi ship racing game in the far corner.

When Roxas finally reaches the second floor he worries his head may start spinning from the overload of things. He knew Kairi was well off, being the Mayor's daughter, he just hadn't exactly grasped the extent of it.

Everything is dazzling and pristine, beyond any of the fantasies he'd had when he grew older. It shouldn't come as a complete surprise. Kairi, herself, is dazzling and pristine. Why wouldn't she live that way too?

They stop at a large, glossy white wooden door. He expects her to burst through it with the exuberant flair she had held during the entirety of this informal tour. But she hesitates. She chews her lip, staring at the doorknob, as if willing it to open by itself.

He almost asks if they're done, his mind still halfway down in the game room.

"This is my room."

It's a weighted statement that Roxas feels down to his toes. A flush begins to form on his face, but quickly he realizes he misinterprets her apprehension.

"It's been a while since I've had someone up here," she clarifies, wrinkling her nose. It's a tic to cover up her nerves, he recognizes it immediately.

"Even Sora?" Roxas asks, despite himself. He almost hits himself for his stupidity. But to his surprise, Kairi's expression lightens. She snorts.

"Sora's not allowed on the second floor."

"No boys allowed, then?" Roxas suddenly wheels around, looking for her father. Perhaps wielding a gun and threatening him to stay away from his daughter.

It's at this moment that he's hit with a sudden realization. This entire time, how could he not notice?

Where are her parents?

"Sora's been banned ever since he set the kitchen on fire when we were kids," Kairi says. "That stone island used to be wood. Completely burned."

That sounds like Sora, Roxas thinks.

Kairi swings open the door without another word. For all her worry and anxiety, the room is surprisingly normal, if not a bit modest in size. The walls are adorned with music artists Roxas has never heard of, though he admits he doesn't really listen to the radio's top 40 hits much. She has a vinyl player, with records stacked haphazardly near it. More artists he doesn't recognize. Her bed is unmade but looks cozy with the pile of stuffies nestled in it. There's a grand bookshelf against the nearest wall, filled with titles Roxas is familiar with. Lots of philosophy, poetry, even Keyblade mythology?

If anything is a little surprising, it's how disorganized everything seems. Books are scattered all over the room. A bra (which she unsubtly kicks beneath her bed) and various other clothing items litter the floor. Her desk is filled with loose papers and notebooks. Upon closer inspection, he realizes they're maps. Her laptop is propped open, and he peers for a closer look at the search results.

She scoots up near him, blocking his line of sight.

"Think dinner might be ready," she says.

He doesn't question her rush to leave the room. He gets it, it's an intimate space, and not everyone should have the privilege of encroaching upon it. But for someone so desperate for a connection with him, she practically invited him in, and then proceeded to kick him out?

It doesn't make complete sense, and he barely has any time to try to even make sense of it all.

Dinner is ready, much to his stomach's pleasure. But his mind is occupied. As it always is.

The table is set lavishly. A beautifully roasted chicken sits in the middle, accompanied by mashed potatoes, seasoned vegetables, and shiny, freshly buttered milk buns on a plate. Roxas allows himself to salivate for all of two seconds, before his attention returns to Kairi.

It's just the two of them sitting at the long dining table. Kairi moves to sit across from him, but it doesn't change the fact that the rest of the seats are hollow and empty.

Kairi fills up the flute nearest her with what looks like champagne, but when Roxas takes a sip, he realizes it's just fizzy Paopu juice.

A child, Roxas thinks.

The juice sizzles down his throat. There's only the sound of the clink of cutlery as they eat.

"It's good," Roxas says. It's beyond good, perhaps the best-roasted chicken he's had ever. But he holds that extended compliment because he knows it'll fall on deaf ears.

Kairi simply makes a noise of acknowledgment. Her mood has noticeably not improved since being in her room.

Roxas has eluded the doom and gloom persona he's worn like armor. It's as if Kairi has stripped him of his title, and he's left grappling with the residue of her sunken mood.

He chews slowly, unable to stop studying her.

It's only later, hours after he departs the mayor's estate, laying in his bed, alone with his racing thoughts and pounding heart, that he's able to identify that something he felt in that library. Something he never thought would actually happen. Something he never would allow himself to feel.

Affection.

But it is swallowed completely by the worry that grips his mind, the concern that burdens his heart. For all the time spent together, he realizes there's so much about Kairi that he doesn't know.

What's even more startling is how much he wants to – know her.

A/N: I'm thinking of turning this into 6 chapters because I hate myself. Have another one!