Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Other ❯ Other ( One-Shot )

Other

 

Morgana Maeve

 

I don't know. It just came out. Roxas/Sora.

 

Disclaimer - I own nothing. Square and Disney own all.

 

Side Note - Since no ages are mentioned, assume the legal age is in order.

 

(oOo)

 

It is an obsession, and he thinks of it constantly. It's always in the back of his mind, an ever-present reminder, and it won't leave him alone.

 

On missions, it haunts him. At meetings, it whispers to him. When Axel crawls over his body, touching and tweaking and probing, it throbs with him, it is the name he cries out. And Axel has learned to ignore it, the shock from the first time it happened having worn off long ago. Sometimes, he decides to be selfish and allows himself to come before Roxas is ready, just so Roxas can't scream out a different name.

 

It is the always-widening rift between him and the other Nobodies. They don't have Others to return to. Their Others are gone, consumed by darkness. His still lives, hiding beneath the floor of the old mansion. Their Others are silent; his calls to him, pleads with him, begging to become whole. And Roxas knows he must answer that call.

 

One night, after Axel has come and rolled over, Roxas slips his cloak back on and becomes one with the night. He doesn't know where he's going, but his Other is crying for him, and he follows that cry. Nothing can stop him, not even Axel's pleading and half-remembered sadness.

 

It's easier that way, to part with Axel thinking he doesn't care for him. It is warped compassion, but it is the best Roxas can do.

 

The blind one captures him that night and brings him to the man. Memories are erased and a new life begins. But even that can't last forever.

 

The Organization wants him back; they need him for his power. The man needs him to stay oblivious; he wants to be rid of the Nobodies. But memories are never truly erased, and each night, new memories are peeled back to expose the raw remembrances that are real, and Roxas's Other begins to call again. This time, it is louder and more desperate. It is closer.

 

The blonde girl, the witch, Naminé, she tries to explain. She is young, though, and she chooses her word unwisely, and confuses Roxas even more. How can he exist but not exist? The answer is there, it forms in his mind, but it is shadowed and won't come to light. Then the blind one enters, and a name is spit out.

 

“Sora.”

 

The name hangs in the air and it crushes the false memories. Roxas knows now, and with his mind and past hanging in ruins, he heads to the mansion, where the call howls through the floor.

 

Axel tries to corner him, but Roxas pushes past, everything forgotten except for his Other, his Sora waiting for him just down the stairs. Axel turns to dust and Roxas runs through it, his feet kicking it into swirls.

 

Running, running, running, Roxas doesn't stop until he reaches the white room. Encased in glass, his Other sleeps, face peaceful, floating in air. Roxas stops, face upturned, staring at this figure, this sleeping god, the ruler of his heart.

 

It is revelation.

 

Hairline cracks form in the glass, and it shatters silently, half of it falling open to Roxas. He takes a step forward, and Sora's eyes open.

 

Stunning blue, just like his own, only Sora's are still light with innocence and Roxas's are dark with pain.

 

And then white consumes.

 

It is blinding, and Roxas has to close his eyes against the glare. When he opens them again, he is sitting, surrounded by white, and across from him sits Sora.

 

“I know you,” Sora says, and his voice echoes. “But I don't at the same time.”

 

“I'm you,” Roxas answers, and there is bitterness in his voice. Freedom was sweet while it lasted, but now he must give it up.

 

“How can you be me? I'm right here!”

 

“I'm part of you. You're part of me. Can't you feel me missing?”

 

Sora draws inward, taking stock of himself. Surprise shows on his face when he looks back at Roxas.

 

“Yes. Right here.” He touches his hand to his heart. “It feels as if something's gone.”

 

Roxas nods, and his own hand flutters near his chest. “Yes, I feel it too. Something inside me is missing here as well.”

 

Sora reaches over and places his hand over Roxas's. “Can I help?”

 

“Yes.” Knowledge blooms in his mind, and Roxas tells him, “We need to join.”

 

Sora nods and asks, “How?” There is a pause, and Roxas must admit that he doesn't know. The two mull a bit, but neither can find an answer. They sit for eternity, for time has stopped. Then Sora says, “I have an idea.”

 

He leans forward and wraps his arms around Roxas. Faces come closer, eyes close, and mouths meet, moving around each other hungrily.

 

“This,” Roxas thinks, “is what I've been missing, what he's been calling out for.” Little shocks travel down his body, waking flesh and dry blood. Clothes fall away; they are not needed. Bodies press together, one warm, the other cold. They fall back, the white holding them up, and when Roxas enters him, Sora feels little pain.

 

They are connected; they are one in a way that Axel could never achieve. Roxas pants and slides and pushes, and Sora mewls and cries and writhes. Hips crash together, and slowly, Roxas beings to sink into Sora's body.

 

The white becomes brighter, and they both come at the same time, screaming each other's name. Roxas feels himself getting lighter, sinking deeper, and he looks at Sora one last time.

 

“I think I would have liked you,” Sora whispers, smiling at him. Roxas smiles back.

 

“Yeah, I would have liked you, too. Maybe in another life, we'll meet up again.”

 

They kiss one last time. White eradicates all, and Sora awakens, back in his glass bubble, finally complete.

 

(oOo)

 

Written while texting my boyfriend. He's lucky I didn't forget whom I was writing to and randomly receive a text containing the above.

 

`Cause yeah, we all know this happened during that whiteout scene.

 

Comments are welcome, though flames are not. Yes, it's Sora/Roxas, no, it's not Axel/Roxas, and yes, Sora/Roxas has an `ick' factor, get over it. I wanted to write it.

 

Just don't tell me it's short. Yeah, I kinda wrote it. I know that.