(no subject)
Title: Silver Lining
Challenge [215]: Begin at the End
Word Count: 304
Notes: Uh, long time, no see? Roxas and Sora, adjusting.
Roxas thinks he might have hated Sora, once.
He still does, sometimes, when he's not thinking about it. Sometimes Sora will be looking out the window at the sun setting over the water and Roxas feels bitterness coiling and clenching in his stomach, hot as flame. He surprises himself with the realization that he's jealous, like the sunset was his, the pinks and oranges as private and intimate as the colors of his insides.
Or when Sora's laughing with his friends, the wind carelessly gusting over them. Roxas finds himself imagining if Kairi's hair were a little darker, curlier, her eyes a spring green instead of ocean blue. If Tidus spiked his hair up a certain way, he could almost pass for Hayner. The way Riku stares sometimes reminds him of Axel, the same gaze that could cut through steel. Sometimes Sora grabs at his side suddenly, like he's in pain, or reaches up to wipe an unexpected tear out of his eye, and it hits Roxas like a blow to the chest to learn that he hasn't just been making himself miserable.
One night, before Sora goes to sleep, he grabs something from his nightstand. He holds it up to the light and Roxas nearly gasps, the blue tint of the crystal reflecting onto his hands. It looks a little naked without its mates (Hayner, he thinks, Pence, Olette; red, green, yellow) but it still radiates familiar warmth. Sora closes it in his fist and when he drifts off to sleep, he holds it against his chest.
Roxas knows that his story wasn't real. He knows that Sora's was never meant to end. But Roxas exists, and Sora slept, and maybe that in itself was enough to shake up the should-have-been; maybe they've carved out a new story, one written in two parts.
Challenge [215]: Begin at the End
Word Count: 304
Notes: Uh, long time, no see? Roxas and Sora, adjusting.
Roxas thinks he might have hated Sora, once.
He still does, sometimes, when he's not thinking about it. Sometimes Sora will be looking out the window at the sun setting over the water and Roxas feels bitterness coiling and clenching in his stomach, hot as flame. He surprises himself with the realization that he's jealous, like the sunset was his, the pinks and oranges as private and intimate as the colors of his insides.
Or when Sora's laughing with his friends, the wind carelessly gusting over them. Roxas finds himself imagining if Kairi's hair were a little darker, curlier, her eyes a spring green instead of ocean blue. If Tidus spiked his hair up a certain way, he could almost pass for Hayner. The way Riku stares sometimes reminds him of Axel, the same gaze that could cut through steel. Sometimes Sora grabs at his side suddenly, like he's in pain, or reaches up to wipe an unexpected tear out of his eye, and it hits Roxas like a blow to the chest to learn that he hasn't just been making himself miserable.
One night, before Sora goes to sleep, he grabs something from his nightstand. He holds it up to the light and Roxas nearly gasps, the blue tint of the crystal reflecting onto his hands. It looks a little naked without its mates (Hayner, he thinks, Pence, Olette; red, green, yellow) but it still radiates familiar warmth. Sora closes it in his fist and when he drifts off to sleep, he holds it against his chest.
Roxas knows that his story wasn't real. He knows that Sora's was never meant to end. But Roxas exists, and Sora slept, and maybe that in itself was enough to shake up the should-have-been; maybe they've carved out a new story, one written in two parts.