He’s only sleeping.

He’s sleeping, and Sora’s life and thoughts and actions are only one long dream playing through his head—because he has a head. Because he is a person, too. Because his thoughts are his and his reality is all there is and anyone who thinks Sora’s the original is—

Right now, the sky is sunset-bright and streaked with paint-stroke clouds and the dream is so real; he can smell the saltwater and the earthy-foresty scents and, um, coffee? Sora has—no, Roxas is dreaming that Sora has a cup of coffee in his hand. Okay. Dream-Sora takes a sip. Okay, okay.

Kairi is smiling and Kairi is laughing but right now Kairi has one hand in one pocket and the other with its fingers pressing anxiously against her lips. She says, “Like it? I haven’t made coffee before. I think I added too much sugar. Is it alright?”

You shouldn’t have, Roxas prompts.

“You shouldn’t have,”Sora says, but he says it so kindly—not at all like how Roxas had intended.

“It’s—it’s great, Kairi. Really—I think only Riku would take less sugar than this.”

He—Roxas—frowns in his sleep. He goes, stop it, stop it. Listen to me. Stop faking like you’re real.

Kairi is always laughing and Kairi is always smiling and Kairi is smiling and laughing right now and at least that’s right. At least she’s happy when he tells her to be.

Roxas always wants to see the corners of her lips upturned and her eyes lit up. If she’s ever sad, he knows, she’ll start to look like another girl. And that other girl might make him think that he’s the phantom, the figment, the nobody, right along with her.

He’s only ever caught her in glimpses; a watercolour ghost.

But he’s more than that.

You’re only real, he tells Sora, for as long as I stay asleep.

You’re only real as long as I say so, alright?

“Liar,” says Kairi, lightheartedly. “Liar.”

Her smiles and her laughter are all for Sora.

Her words are all for him.

—

Originally posted at requiempathic at livejournal; 11-23-07