Summary: This belongs to you.
The world was dark. There were no lights from shops or houses, no late-night tram running. Twilight Town was silent in its sleep. Roxas kicked a stone into a wall. The echo was deafening. A bird flew from its nest where it had been disturbed, crying only once. There was no stir from anything else.
The Sandlot felt empty without Seifer’s presence, lonely without the crowds just waiting for a Struggle match. There was a soft sound of the grass bending gently under Roxas’ large, clunky shoes as he walked. A ringing sound took up place in his ears to clear out the silence.
He had a destination in mind, somewhere, in the back of his head. He let his body guide him, taking in the scenery that he had seen hundreds of thousands of times before. It all looked so different in the dark. So translucent and unreal.
His legs were sore from a practice match with Hayner earlier that day. A long patch of gravel burn ran from ankle to mid-calf from a good swing the other boy had gotten in. It had taken them over an hour to comb all of the pebbles out of the raw skin. Olette had scolded both of them for at least twice that.
A glitter of silver caught his eyes when he had come to the center of the tram common. He turned to it and followed, his gait leisurely and calm. The silver thing floated and shined ahead, always just in the distance. Roxas trailed behind it like an old friend.
A warm breeze ruffled through his hair, his bangs tickling his forehead. Roxas ducked under the hold in the wall of the common, his feet sinking into the soft soil of the woods. For a long while, he stood there, looking from tree to tree, noting that the sides of his vision were fuzzy in a digital sort of way. The fuzziness grew as he walked closer and closer to the mansion.
The outskirts of the mansion were covered in a thick, white fog, only the building itself clear. Roxas ignored this for the moment, his attention focused instead of the wisp of silver that had just slipped into a crack by the mansion’s door.
Roxas’ palm was shocked by the cold of the door handle, his arms straining against weight that had never seemed to be there before until, finally, the doors gave way with a loud groan. A cloud of dust exploded in his face, and he sneezed three times before he could take a step into the foyer. Through them, he saw the silver thing slip into a room on the side. He followed to the basement.
The basement was a dark, damp thing that held an old chill. A blue green glow came from the corner of the room- a computer with many monitors. Before it stood a young boy, no older than sixteen, his face washed out to an unnatural white.
“Who are you?” The boy looked lost, confused. His hand was held out at his side, and Roxas knew what he was doing. His own palm tingled, and, then, he felt the weight of the keyblade falling into his hand.
“Why do you weid the keyblade?”
“Because it won’t leave me alone.” Roxas tightened his fingers around the hilt, letting the blade rest harmlessly against his leg. “Why don’t you have yours, Sora?”
“How do you know me?” Sora’s fists were clenched, one foot defiantly in front of the other.
“I don’t know.” Roxas couldn’t look away.
“Do you live in this world?” Sora stood straighter, looking around himself, as if for the first time. Roxas nodded. “Do you know the way to Destiny Islands?”
“I’ve never been anywhere but here.” Roxas’ stomach was turning, and he knew Sora was why he had been called from his sleep. He knew Sora had been the one haunting his dreams. “I think… I think we were supposed to meet here.”
“You feel it, too?” Sora, one hand curled in a loose fist against his heart, finally looked up far enough to meet Roxas’ eyes. And they both knew, then, somewhere deep inside, who they were. Roxas took the first step forward. Sora met him in the middle.
“This belongs to you.” Roxas touched his lips to the other boy’s, pressing the keyblade into Sora’s palm. He let go.
When he pulled away, he was home again, waking from his bed to follow a strange silver thing that had woken him. His flesh buzzed, his lips tingled. And he didn’t know why.