"Lea??" Not one he knew yet, Isa didn't think, but a Lea in distress nonetheless. He ran to the man's side to see if he was- well, alive.
Now he’s imagining things. He’s imagining things, and pathetic, laying in the grass and dirt because there was nothing else he could do.
But that voice can’t possibly be here.
Isa’s not here, after all.
But there’s a shadow falling over him, even face down, he can see it. He closes his eyes and turns his head away.
“Go away Sora.” Or Riku. Or Kairi. Or - well, he supposes it could be any one of them who might care to bother him. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, and they’re all the same.
“It didn’t work,” he said softly, voice just as hushed. “Nothing worked. I couldn’t help any of them. It was just me, surviving. Me, lucky.”
No great evils, after him, no heroes to die for. There had only been him, kept whole in the end. What did trying matter, if he didn’t get anywhere for it? Hadn’t helped Saïx. Hadn’t helped Isa. Had just pushed Roxas away.
“Even when I was dying for him, I…” he shakes his head.
Dying for him. Isa’d heard such stories before, from Leas. Lived it himself; the cold, penetrating pain of a chakram’s point in his back, slipping between his ribs, the horrifying sight of the point poking from his chest. Isa understood that pain. He’d been a Nobody only a handful of weeks before his own Lea had ended that existence, but he understood.
“But you fought and struggled for them, against impossible odds. It was Xemnas’s fault, not yours.” Isa shook his head Lea. “What could you have done? You can’t take every ill of the world onto yourself as if you’re a god.” Hypocrite, Isa was, and he knew it. Sometimes it was easier to forgive your own flaws in another person.
“It’s not over yet, Lea. Not by a long shot.”
