heroeth asked: He had completely lost the notion of time, no longer knowing how to count the hours outside of the Final World. He was lost, cloud-minded. What he knew was what he saw; fragments of his fading into thin air bit by bit in a bell-like melody – and his only company, other than the lost stars, was that curious man who’d come to visit him every once in a dream. They’ve talked before, Sora remembered that much. A promise was made, that he’d save him, even if he was the reason why he was there. Weird. In that sea of confusion and lost fragments, however, he felt gently familiar– like they knew each other from another life. Tired and barely able to keep his eyes opened, the brunet let his head fall on the other’s shoulder, breath tickling on pale ear alongside his lips. ❛ ... i'm so sleepy. ❜ Confession came with a tired yawn, as he soon moved his body closer, hand hopelessly searching for another. Why was he scared? Closer... Closer... ❛ yozora – ❜ 𝙞𝙩’𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮, 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩?
⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆a dream perpetual, an oath to return. ❪ unprompted! ❫
In this ELYSIAN VOID of stippled stars-- inking CREPUSCULAR HEAVENS an ethereal white-- the TEMPORAL THREADS of the mortal dominion were pitifully ABSENT. Time was of NO CONSEQUENCE in the Final World: a REALM which truly lived up to its NAMESAKE. The finality of all LIVING THINGS. The end of ALL WORLDS. ( An eternity was thus FATED, for those that found themselves incarcerated within its GLASSY PLANES ). Such was the destiny of one WAYWARD ISLANDER: Atlas manifest in BLUSH and MARROW. A boy he swore an OATH to protect.
𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎...
With SINGULAR KNEE upon stygian gravel,
Yozora expelled his PROMISE in the witness of FATE itself:
spectral wraiths wreathed in CLOAKS of SHADOW.
... 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕.
It was an OATH that departed his lips MORE THAN ONCE, across his infinite lifetimes. The GOD of merciful death, THANATOS, born anew in CORPOREAL FORM. Serving to balance the COSMOS with every iteration. And the SINGLE TASK, he was given every time... to SAVE SORA. The jovial nineteen year old: crown PERCHED upon a supple shoulder, chestnut locks dishevelled upon DARK LEATHER. Tresses that Yozora REMEMBERED as sable in ONE LIFETIME, and flaxen in the PREVIOUS. Sora’s appearance was EVER CHANGING, much like the king’s own: but throughout the EONS, the sacrificial lamb still MAINTAINED his boyish innocence.
A SMILE, inadvertent, BLOOMED from thin lips, SAPPHIRE and RUBY falling to where a stray hand was desperately seeking ANOTHER. Yozora’s own. And THUS, did the Verum Rex concede to Sora’s SILENT WISHES, fingers flowering from PALM to invite Sora’s hand into HIS. In reassurance. In fondness.
( And THUS, did skies incarnate reestablish a BOND PERPETUAL: one they had long upheld since the DAWN OF TIME. )
and i am the idiot with the painted face
in the corner, taking up space
but when he walks in, i am loved, i am loved.
"is that another one of your grand sacrifices, sora? how nice." a sneer visible beneath hooded visage, eyes like pools from an endless trench where a soul should be. a prisoner turned prosecutor, here to claim what is his. here in their so-called shared heart, they finally stand face-to-face. wrought from the threads of reality for you to—to—
( you must stave off your pained head and set your sights on what to do. when you close your eyes, you will see images with frayed edges. axel alight, and then ashen into fading shadows. the friends of a life you never had. something else, like fragments, is lodged between memories where a girl with raven hair resides and oh, her smile slips from your reach— )
you catch yourself before you fall too far unto unreality. existence is fickle and though they have all the time in the world, you do not want to linger any longer than you should. the station of awakening beneath their feet is shrouded in shadows and dim. but the darkness is the least of their worries here. rather, something eclipses it in its entirety. consumes it.
you step forth to where your other awaits. the darkened pavement beneath feels familiar, as if you have been here before. once, perhaps, it had been the place where you began.
this station is sora's domain as much as it is your own. but his keyblade hangs loosely to his side, posture open and almost inviting. unguarded, perhaps, is the better term. you have seen his every aspect and his prowess, and yet you cannot comprehend why he would leave himself so pliant in the presence of an enemy. of a shadow of himself.
you step forward, the lackadaisical drag of your own keyblade screeching on the surface. "why do you do that? you barely know me." you cock your head absently. "but i know all about you, though. keyblade's chosen. hero of the light. my other." fingers come forth to cup sora's cheek. the gloved hand is rough in his touch. you cradle it. him. your heart. "thank you, by the way, for wanting to save me. you wouldn't be the first person to want to do that—in vain."
you are not sure what that expression he's making is called when he looks at you.the chosen's keyblade is brought down between their proximity, forcing one another to step back but only temporarily. your trembling hand grips and crumples his shirt. sora's eyes... he has always been a cowardly one. who wouldn't be, after seeing the worlds blow out into unrecognizable particles? you have to give him credit for his bravery, but you do feel a deep irritation that the facade remains even as their scenario nears the end.
even as their hearts clash, the determination and focus sora has on display is admittedly admirable. but you have to scoff and smile as you brandish your own blade and lunge. for what? he will get what he wants.
the slice is gauche but effective. we feel the shot of pain in our shoulders as if it were our own. we stumble onto the stained glass heart as we drive oblivion's blade deeper into our bodies. the sound of impact against hard glass. someone screams in agony, but we are unsure who that voice belongs to.
( nobodies do not bleed. though the shell of the original and true heart perseveres and functions as per usual, hurting the vessel does not hurt the heart. you had not known what a privilege you enjoyed when you had been with the organization. the human being is a fragile thing, with fickle sprained ankles and festering wounds inside and out. )
your breaths come labored. in the splinter where your key cuts, light pours out from sora's body like a brilliant sunlight from a slightly opened door. refracting from the heart beneath their bodies. you look down at him. look at us. your weight trapping his body. this tether between somebody and nobody. but it is not enough. you will unravel him and weave him into nothingness and stardust until there is only oneness. your own oneness.
"like you asked. why fight then? if you're so giving, then hand me my body." you force another inhale. "you didn't even know this whole time i looked through your eyes. have your memories. and now it's just the heart i need from you. and then i'll get to head to the beach again, see twilight town. and—and—
"stop. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT."
every foe he has cut down. each member of the organization met with scorn. there should be no pity reserved for a nobody readying to split him ( us ) in a try for redemption. but he looks up at you, light on his lashes and irises like clear skies in a bright day. sora smiles, only marred by a brow pinched in obvious pain from the limb— threatening to sever apart as the blade buries and buries, but oh he smiles. lips parted from his own heaving and skin a warm tan from years beneath a sun in its zenith.
( the memory comes unbidden: before the destruction of worlds, before the burden bequeathed on atlas, there is the sun and the beach too. three friends who laugh together for the thrill of the chase. three friends who bask in the setting sun in the distance. three friends and their love is shaped like falling stars that chase after this dull, ordinary boy— )
"enough." you do not know who you're addressing, but you have to resist the onslaught of nostalgia. should not pity the boy who has taken everything and more from you. even when the worlds need him more. even if the worlds are better off without you. you will take back the only thing that's still rightfully yours in an existence that has always been fleeting and borrowed.
you draw the blade away from his shoulder and hover it in front of his beating, grossly human chest. his arms spread out beneath you like open arms awaiting an embrace as his body fractures and parts to make way for more light. you are not sure how much of his arm is still attached to his body.
( you do not sense hesitation to give / to take. is this our curtain call then? you truly are his selfish counterpart, desire in (y)our beating hearts. one who only knows how to take, and an other who only knows how to give. perhaps you were always bound to collide this way. a pre-determined ruination, like the universe inching to the gaping mouth of a black hole. this is what we were made for the moment you were born. )
in the morning you will wake and realize that you have had a restless dream. your beautiful, tragic other will stir from his sleep, still whole but unspared of the scars and crystals scattering upon flesh. he will hold you, and you note the intact limb and the scar gashed along his chest peeking from the top of his shirt. he will ask you what is wrong? beneath the glaring morning light. you will look at him, your fingers clawed into his skin and making sure it is flesh you touch. his scent is the sea, and he is drenched in blankets and sweat and sun. he glows like light, refracting.
me, it is me, you will try to grasp the words from your throat, but you choose to curl around him and hold him tight in your arms.
you have not returned his ( our? ) heart to him. not yet. you must pray to these stars that day will never come.
👫👫 hi handsome do u come here often, u dropped ur sora and roxas headcanons
send a 👫+👫 and I’ll write four EIGHT headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship
this is more an expansion of canon than an hc but i firmly believed that roxas did hate sora. he's the name that always came up as his life hurtled towards inevitable ruination. he did not necessarily accept his fate, he accepted defeat. it is only, truly until after their battle where he fades into sora's heart where he fully accepts the absorption. he believes sora deserves to be here because he's a more important person who has to be alive than roxas is. he is not worth this life, but his other is. (✿◡‿◡)
i wanna believe that the urgency to bring roxas back was because he was… slowly assimilating into sora? if too much time had passed, roxas would have faded entirely into sora’s heart since. they really were just one being in a structural sense? this close assimilation is why they have a connection, a sense for each other’s physical, emotional and mental state post kh3. their hearts were so closely intertwined and couldnt really… separate neatly, if that makes sense? so they have a sixth sense specific to what the other is feeling?
in addendum to above, i like to believe that roxas is semi-conscious while he resides in sora, most notably during the events of kh3. in kh3 sora has probably allowed roxas to speak through him and address the gang in the mysterious tower at the start of the game. roxas would say that he didn't' need saving, but... other hearts inside sora Do need help because i want the discovery to be more dramatic than just finding out thru data ok!! another instance of this would be a heartless about to attack sora when he's in the midst of recovering, only for... his hand to seemingly have its own mind, holding up oathkeeper and defending sora against the attack! wah, they're with each other!! :")
we should have a thread on this but when time allowed, they probably sat each other down in sora’s heart and had a whole conversation on what sora’s priorities should be. sora absolutely wasnt having it though and said he was going to bring roxas back no matter what. petty argument ensues, though if sora were ever to ask Why roxas didnt want this to happen and why he wouldnt let sora risk himself for him? roxas would admit. that he cares :”) he’s already saving so many people, why risk himself to save roxas too?
and for post kh3 specific hcs (which i promise are fluffier and get the angst-y parts out of the way):
roxas lives in the shinkaime household after his return, and visits sora regularly once he’s returned from quadratum as well. sometimes he’s even asked to stay over by sora’s parents to help sora familiarize himself with destiny islands again since he’s been away for so long. if asked, this was surprisingly roxas’ idea to do all this. partly because he feels responsible for sora’s disappearance and (i assume this will unfortunately be the case for kh4) couldn’t help much with his search. the other part is that they both deserve this reprieve to exist at the same time, the same plane of reality yknow? especially once sora shares to roxas that he has difficulty telling reality from, fiction which is something roxas also experiences, he’ll support his other 100%.
roxas absolutely calls sora his 'other' unblinkingly, unabashedly. even at the very beginning of their acquaintanceship. he'd been the one to call sora that in kh2, and it just carried on after he's cleaved from sora's heart. roxas always thought that there was... no other name for what they were? it isn't initially meant to be of significance. 'other' because they were so many things that it's difficult to exclusively label what his relationship with sora is like. whole and half, enemy then friend, light and shadow, etc. so it felt... easier to not put a known name to their friendship at first? until gradually, as they get to know each other, isn't it the only way to refer to sora? from 'other' to 'his other'. he truly cant exist without sora, and how could he imagine a world without his tragically / wonderfully / breathtakingly beloved other at all?
roxas has always been touchy because of his unconscious desire to prove that his current surroundings and experiences are real. but because sora is so innately touchy as well and greets roxas + others with hugs, hand holds, etc, roxas' own tendencies for touch are brought out more as well once sora returns. on casual interactions he'll lean his head on xion's shoulder, hook an arm around axel, even stinky riku gets a playful punch or a shoulder pat on better days. sora, of course, gets the same treatment. when they're dating, sora gets all the above and kisses daily!
as a way of discerning reality from memory and what’s false from true, sora and roxas play a little game, 'mine or yours'. one shares from the mess of memories in his head, and the other says 'mine' when it's his own, 'yours' when it belongs to the other'. they both suffer from derealization and well, what’s a more reliable indicator that they’re in the present than seeing each other as individuals? in a further time, when they play this game and have shared memories together by then, one shares a memory, and the other says 'ours’. the first time it happens, it's the moment they realize really have made so many memories together… as promised! :”)
a letter from @heroeth has arrived! — sora used to wake up early, before the sun finished rising in the sky. today was different, though. even as he felt the blinding morning light on his sleepy face, he grumbled and mumbled, squeezing the body next to his as if roxas was a teddy bear. perhaps in a certain he was. even if he was complaining that they would be late to meet up with xion and the others. "five more minutes, please…" he then buried his face on his other's chest, as if that could hide him from his growing hard stare. his next words came softening though: "i sleep so well when i am with you… it's been so long."
it isn't uncommon to find the two others beneath a shared blanket at dawn. there was no separating sora and roxas from the mundane chores to the heartless extermination missions. bedsharing had become a preferred routine to them at this point ( though roxas has yet to accustom himself to the knowing / loving smile sora's mother would flash them whenever sora would so confidently announce "roxas is sleeping with me again tonight!" to the shinkaime household ).
they had found that sleep comes easier to them like this: the solidness ( realness ) of bodies intertwined / breathing and heartbeats synced, as if answering in tandem to each other / the comfort of two, knowing that they would not lose each other again so long as they were together. a reunion, not as one former soul, but akin to a calling. belonging. we are home.
of course, the most quaint homes aren't without their little squabbles. early morning has run past, the sun rays casting a mildly harsher light and heat as they pool into sora's room. roxas has been ( fruitlessly ) trying to wake his other for the outing today. the beach at the outskirts of twilight town is still one gummi ship trip away.
"c'mon, sora. we've gotta head out." roxas' voice is gentle even with the exasperated purse of his lips. for the millionth time, he receives grumbles in response from the bump of sora's head underneath the covers. fingers squeeze his shoulder as roxas tugs the blanket away from his other. "you already asked for five more minutes like, 10 minutes ago. we've got to go."
arms squeeze around roxas, clinging still. sora only nuzzles further into his body as if trying to hide himself from the morning sun. roxas sighs. there's a chiding of plans missed and the day wasted away on his tongue, until sora's voice comes again. quieter this time, timid even. i sleep so well when i am with you… it's been so long.
roxas bites his tongue down, the grip on sora's shoulder loosening. even if it's been months since his return from quadratum, sora has yet to fully talk about his time there in the fictional world. even less in unpacking the time of splitting himself apart. a fond caress of fingers trailing sora's side, circling when he feels a smoother surface beneath the fabric of sora's pajamas. if sora chose to look up at him now, those glass-like shards littering across his visage would shine beneath sunlight.
sora has always said the crystals scattered across his body were a side effect he's accepted to live with. roxas, of all people, has never been one for appearances and has found his other captivating nonetheless. but he never knew how to say that shine from these shard-like parts always made the circles around sora's eyes seem darker.
"... y'know, actually, it looks like xion and the others can't make it. something came up." better to make up a story than to have sora feel terrible for not waking up in time. roxas makes a mental note to send hayner an apology for flaking and to ask sora's mother if they could make his favorite food. stars, did this hero-made-boy need the rest.
the blankets are kicked off with little effort. roxas lays himself back down and props his chin atop brunet crown and circles his arm around sora's waist. oh, the flutter in his chest when sora nuzzles further into roxas' embrace. if only he could hide him from destiny's eyes, steer him clear from another prophecy. let him be ordinary a little longer. "it'll be okay . we can snore the rest of the day away." a kiss planted on sora's head. "and i'll still be here when you wake up, as always."
She found him on the beach, one of the only places he could be ; Kairi approached. Footsteps were heard on the sand mixed with the noise of the wind and the sound of waves that come and go. Kairi knew that Sora would be at their favorite place on Destiny Island, just as the princess of light also knew that he was about to go on a mission again ( she hates to see him go, but that is not something she will not express right now ). What matters is that he always comes back. “ It’s a nice breeze, isn’t it ? ” Kairi finally says something to warn of her presence.
a letter from @heroeth has arrived! — "my morning star." ♡
ㅤㅤㅤit had been a rather daring move, hardly meant with the intention to wake the prince. what had started as a normal routine to wake his charge turned into a moment of indulgence. roxas' hand hovered over sora's shoulder and poised to hold the limb and shake.
ㅤㅤㅤthough... stormy eyes wandered to the peaceful expression the sun prince wore. rosy lips parted / gentle rise and fall of his chest where a crown necklace sits / long lashes fluttered close, telling signs of peaceful sleep. he has always known that the prince was breathtaking, with its only rival being his heart. sora was gold. he didn't need sunlight haloing his frame to call attention to him. sora was just sora on his own, and roxas believed that his nature was already enough.
ㅤㅤㅤwhen it comes to astronomy, mercury can be too close to the sun when it orbits. the temptation of perihelion. and bold, bolder still, a gentle caress of russet skin with pale fingers. eyes look on in such fascination no matter the countless ways they have both touched.
ㅤㅤㅤa comical series of events follow in what seems like a millisecond for roxas. in his avid wonder, he doesn't notice ocean eyes fluttering open from the gentle touch. only after he trails a line on brown cheek does roxas' gaze drift just slightly to meet a teasing expression / a fond smile, the utter charm of it making his heart leap in his throat.
ㅤㅤㅤoh. sora'd woken up.
ㅤㅤㅤroxas is only half present in reality when he backs away, saying a hasty " good morning! " and that the prince should be getting dressed soon. a slew of apologies pour from lips as he starts for the door to give sora the privacy he needs. but of course, daring to converge with the sun will only have themselves consumed by its warmth. he's only halfway sprinting the room when he hears it: my morning star.
ㅤㅤㅤroxas trips. in front of the sun prince. as if the scenario wasn't mortifying enough already.
ㅤㅤㅤmercury has enough dignity to pick himself back from the floor no matter how appealing the idea of laying in his grave was right now. " ... " a slow turn to sora, the morning sun shining behind him. ah, was that why he was feeling so warm right now? " i-i'm sorry, my prince. i'm still getting used to the... title. " roxas has gratified himself with enough indulgence for an entire year to dare call it what it is: an endearment. he would prefer not to topple over again, lest he may just die on the spot for real.
a letter from @heroeth has arrived! — "so this is what a summer vacation is all about, huh?" he hummed, trying to balance himself on the blueish plank while being held on both sides by his very patient skate teacher (the best one around, according to the silver medal winner of twilight town's skateboard competition olette herself). when sora felt he was about to fall, he held onto the hands on his waist, stabilising just in time. he giggled; roxas' face was such a mess of emotions. blushed cheeks, perplexed face, even a twitch of an eye. was he really that bad? "skating through town is harder than i thought… maybe i should teach you to swim in return!"
ㅤㅤㅤsunset hill is lined with shops of watchful and teasing eyes directed to the two figures atop the hill. the casual intimacy is obvious even from a distance, whether it be tan fingers pinching his company's cheeks or pale hands holding on to the other's waist. roxas does his best to pay them no mind, though the constant heat on his cheeks from being observed is telling enough of his self-consciousness. and. another reason.
ㅤㅤㅤhe'd been confident sora could manage slow movement down the hill so long as roxas supervised. the keyblade hero's balance is unquestionable and likely helped the near immediate ease sora had learning to mount and roll across flat ground with a skateboard. he's heard that sora has this ability called 'flowmotion' that allows him to navigate through entire buildings and cliff dives... skateboards should be nothing to him then! so roxas trusted in his other to start skating down the hill by the next day of their lessons. and really, he was doing fantastic improvement by leaps and bounds. roxas isn't sure if it's because he's a great teacher, or if sora's a fast learner.
still...
ㅤㅤㅤholding on to him like this is. a little intrusive, isn't it? a silly thought, he knows. they have always touched like second nature to them. hand holding without thinking, hugging in greeting, even this exact positioning of his hands, the motions are familiar enough. stars' sake, they've kissed. but the awareness that he has to hold sora? having his lithe shape in his palms. the warmth of body. it's. rather. uh.
what were they talking about. again.
ㅤㅤㅤso lost in his thoughts, roxas doesn't notice the way sora kicks too strongly, an unnecessary force to the careful pace they were going. only at the very last moment when the skateboard tips over to the steeper slope does roxas manage to snap back into reality. he acts first, taking advantage of the grip he has around sora to pull him back from the skateboard. lifting him, even. his weight just enough for roxas to maneuver his body with ease. arms come around sora and pull. their figures crash into each other as the skateboard begins to slide down the hill, forgotten.
ㅤㅤㅤsomehow, even with his heart pounding in his chest from adrenaline, roxas still has the thought of sora being so small stapled to his brain. back against his chest, the snug circling of his arms around sora's body. by the bright look on his expression, sora is blissfully ignorant of the crisis he's going through. and yet, why did it feel like sora could read his mind? roxas knew he couldn't, but all rational thought was out the window for him the second he started thinking too hard about this.
ㅤㅤㅤ" SWIMMING. SOUNDS GOOD. GREAT! " roxas spins on his heel and buries his face in his hands. " wecantakeabreakfortoday! " and oh. oh, his hands are still warm from where they touched sora and is it just him, or did the air get warmer? the blond peeks behind himself and feels his cheeks grow in warmth. a rather comical turn on the ball of his foot, ocean blues meeting sora's gaze with the summer warmth splayed on pale cheeks. dear stars above, just swallow him whole right now. " sora, i think i'm about to explode. "
ㅤㅤㅤfortunately for roxas, he forgets about the vendors lined along the slope of the hill entirely as they gossip and gush about the couple. or else he really would have combusted on the spot! ah, young love.
a letter from @heroeth reads: with their foreheads touching, their noses brushed against one another midst casual secrets exchanged. it was raining outside, but right then it felt so warm, even if the blanket was thrown on the floor. at some point though, sora blurted out a silly joke about how good it was that storms never reached twilight town. could you imagine the hair disasters people would have to face? poor hayner, pence AND seifer! well, uh, maybe he himself should be more careful with rains, too. his mom and donald always said he looked like a wet lion when his hair got wet. whatever it was (the joking, the silly realisation, or both), it made roxas burst in laughter. ... it was the first time sora ever saw roxas laughing like that. oh, that tasted victorious. "you should laugh more often, roxas! it suits you."
gentle thunders and unquiet waves resound from the window beyond sora's room. it isn't often roxas finds himself in the rain ( and even less to be beneath it when there are only unpleasant memories from those tearing skies ), but the unease is muted against the whispered chuckles between the two warriors. boys, should destiny have a privy ear split them apart once again were they anything else. right now, they are left be. a moment of respite for boys who grew up too fast.
it had been sora's idea to huddle like this. roxas had seemed fearful not because of the storm outside, but of the unnerving memories it brought. ( an anger ready to rave the world / himself whole, two cloaked men in an endless clash until the stronger prevailed, memories fading fast, fast——- ) and the brunet was quick to pull him on the floor. with a confused roxas following his lead, they sit face to face. sora starts to reminisce his boyhood and present. many are memories that roxas has seen before. he never resonated with them before when he had no reason to empathize with a stranger. sora is far from it today, and his other weaves stories with an animated excitement that has the blond clinging to every word, like a tale told for the first time.
the "formation" they're in is counterintuitive for sharing warmth in the cold. but how could roxas be bothered by the fleeting troubles of weather with their hands intertwined / smiles traded / voices lowered to themselves / noses brushed, should the other accidentally ( " accidentally? ") lean too close / the warmth of his other's company? he finds himself looking down at the togetherness of their fingers and reddening further despite the countless times they have held each other like this. the contact is ever familiar yet strange in a way that roxas is grateful for.
the conversation arrives at a more casual pace, the fear remaining in the back of roxas' mind but lulled to haunt him another day. even when a harsher thunder rumbles down the beach making the camaraderie pause albeit momentarily, they turn to each other and share a laugh. it's this moment that compels sora to tell roxas a so-called deadly secret that he " must never tell anyone else ". to this, roxas leans closer in with curious ears ( never close enough, when it comes to him ). he pictures it as it is told. unkempt brown locks tamed to the will of the rain, flattening in an unflattering lion's mane. a doe-eyed child looking up at his mother to have his hair toweled after playing in the rain with his friends. the hailed keyblade's chosen running up walls with ease looking not-him with his drenched hair. a pause, and—
a laugh. the force of it practically pushes roxas back, palms finding their way to the floor to steady his body, though his head leans back with the joy bursting from his lungs. he can vaguely catch sora's words and picture him pouting—oh, thanks roxas!—and that only makes the blond laugh more when he imagines the moue paired with drenched hair. the sound is clear and vivid amid the stormy weather, tears pricking at his eyes when he finally looks back to his other.
" sorry, sorry, i— " fingers come up to hide his mouth. " you just—you look so cute in my head— " the laugh finally settles into giggles. it almost aches to be blithely jubilant when roxas' range of expressions are sadness, sullen, neutral, and then anger. sora is one of the few who can pull another face from the ones roxas has forgotten.
( and yes, he loves that about him. loves him, deeply. with all his heart, that was what sora once said, right? even in this setting set for their whispered talks, this one secret he shall keep to himself. but the thought of it tugs a wider smile on roxas' lips. )
when the energy settles after some playful nudges from his other, sora says something that causes the red on his pale cheeks to lower down to his neck. this time, his chuckle comes out rather sheepish. he hadn't meant to laugh that much, but he had no intention to hide that from sora, not when he's given a smile in return. it is sweet and smitten, and oh the look his other gives him pulls so pleasantly on roxas' heartstrings.
" you want me to laugh more often, right? " he fakes a thoughtful expression, then beckons sora to come closer. " c'mere. i've got a secret for that too. " his other is innocent and oblivious to his intentions, and the excitement makes roxas bite on his lower lip. he has a hand up to cup the air between them, to keep his words only between them where even the gust of wind outside will never get to hear. " alright, sora, listen carefully. the secret to making me laugh... is...—"
and then he pounces on his other! pushing his upper body to the floor as sora comically collapses and is left at the mercy of roxas. pale hands raise up ready to strike, and sora figures out what roxas intends to do. he makes the insistent threats for roxas to back off, but there is only a playful smile on his lips that fills roxas' heart with light / and yet weightless all the same. perhaps his heart was made only to be this lovesick fool that feels utter adoration for every little thing sora does. ( and maybe, he wouldn't mind if it was made for this. )
it's almost a sign of truce when he lowers his fingers to the floor. there's something a little more important that he needs to do, and it's to lean down and brush their lips together, warm and solid and real. and for a moment, the storm is forgotten entirely and the world is only sora and roxas and the warmth between them. there's the slightest noise roxas picks up. a weight lifted from the creaky floor of sora's bedroom, and the moment after fingers rest on his shoulders. it almost tempts roxas to stay, to let them be this for however long the storm would go on. perhaps forever, should destiny allow them this. it is the least they deserve for all the heartaches in their short lives.
but they have all the time in the world, and roxas is more fleeting than infinite / more boyish than human. when sora sighs against the kiss, pale fingers poke and wiggle at his other's sides, tracing his most ticklish spots. the brunet's gasp of surprise is broken off with a laugh that has him flailing in place. and it does work, the sound of sora's own joy eliciting a laugh from roxas himself to see his other so happy. he would do anything to keep his smile bright and beautiful.
( and so the storm will go on outside. and yet we laugh / and yet we love. )
