I was only able to do this fanfic b/c stupid York U had to go on strike. Ah well…When life hands you lemons, you write fanfictions.

To Li and Meleiyu

I remember in detail only those memories in which he had some part and they remain shining and achingly beautiful but for the tidal wave of emotions that spring forth like some sort of drug induced high. My illustrious career and the era that had past after his departure holds very little consequence for me so that I find myself often feeling nostalgic, no doubt brought upon by the scent of ice cream or evocative shades of blue. Any thoughts that could be called analytical or even rational are stolen by the heart, painted with forcefully exquisite colours and thrust upon me once more in an emotionally self-indulgent and profoundly detailed manner. More often than not this appears to me in the form of ghostly smiles, long dead gestures, and echoes which invariably lead to entire episodes, a long, emotional and drawn out film that ends in bittersweet and continual thought lacking acknowledgement of its own conclusion. The result is a weariness mingled with desire that I had long since hoped to abandon. I am fated to walk the beaten paths in my mind a thousand times more.

It occurred to me that I am trapped in my livelier past. This is the fate for those who have lived through the peak of their lives whilst in the years of youth only to discover that they have far too many uneventful years ahead of them on which to reflect. Self-actualization came all too soon for us both. I habitually wander to the solace of those significant moments to a time when Roxas was the center of the universe, the golden child in my arms, the thorn forever lodged in my mind.

I should start by saying, if only for the self-satisfaction of saying it, that psychiatry is a deplorably invasive business, one into which I have dedicated an unfairly generous number of years. It is a loveless profession, people open their hearts and minds to you, which in any other situation would result in a robust and profound relationship except that as psychiatrist I am not in any position to reciprocate this whole-hearted emotional dependency (though Roxas would have none of that). We exist as a mental punching bag for lack of a better word, taking abuse in a scholarly manner. We coldly rationalize the intense inner struggle of our patients in the first half-hour of a session and arbitrarily hand out ‘solve-all, miracle’ prescriptions in the second half. When I was a child my dream was to become a musician and somewhere in the thick of my childhood I had utterly sold out to the idea of security and a consistent paycheck. The first time I considered psychiatry as a potential profession occurred during a game with my schoolmates surprisingly enough. We were going to play with our action figures and were in the middle of deciding which characters would be assigned to whom. When my turn came I was left to decide between a character that could fly anywhere in a matter of a few seconds and a character that could read minds. Naturally my friends expected me to select the former because in their minds the superpower of the latter was incomparable to the former. I surprised them by defying their expectations and choosing the latter. They immediately questioned my choice and even I was surprised by my own reasoning. It was simply this: I would rather have the power to read other people’s thoughts if only to ensure no one else could read mine. How I came to equate that particular power and the skill of psychiatry in my prepubescent mind is anyone’s guess.

One should never assume that society is eager to welcome a graduate out of university and immediately offer them a substantial salary, especially if the only thing to come out of those four years of limbo is a degree in psychology. I was content to live off of my inheritance for a while longer, after all a broken childhood merits a few contented years of carefree idleness or so my young foolishness would have me believe. My life up until this point had been a generic play that had not prepared me for anything beyond normalcy. So it came as a shock for me that I should find myself engulfed in the rapturous intensity of forbidden and absurd love. I was not only swept away by it but had plotted, schemed and instigated all measures to cultivate it. It was not until the boy had gazed at me with his startling blue eyes that fire had burst victoriously forth as my element. I never knew until then what I was capable of, or what monstrous desperation and unmitigated passion Roxas could bring forth in the otherwise calm and rational mind. I think we all surprise ourselves at some point.

I had promised to meet my friend Demyx at his recording studio so that we could go out for drinks to celebrate his new upcoming single and my cheerful unemployment. It was odd for me to see someone, a dear friend no less, live and breathe my childhood dream of becoming a musician. Perhaps the most ironic feature to this situation was that he had a consistent paycheck and my own funds were rapidly depleting. We settled down at a small table with our drinks. Demyx noticed the bartender bringing a song request to the D.J. on the other side of the bar. He grinned at me. He had dirty blonde hair and a toothy smirk on a decidedly adorable face.

“Hey Axel, do you think he’d play my new single if I asked?” I gave him a derisive smile.

“Demyx, your new song is at the top of the charts, they’ll play it eventually anyway.” I analyzed the situation without realizing it. I could not help it as I felt my unused talents were going to waste. “I would say that in light of your sudden success you are unconsciously protecting the humble identity you started off with by reverting to the cheap self-promotion you used to practice when you were unknown. I’ll admit it was necessary back then, but you’d just be making a fool of yourself now”. Demyx sighed.

“First, you’re probably right. Second, get out of my head, doctor. Third, if you were unconsciously trying to convince me that you really need a job, mission accomplished.” I perked up at this.

“So, what have you heard?” I asked, sipping my drink casually. He leaned on his elbow thoughtfully, a crease forming just below his dirty blonde hairline.

“There could be problems with that though…” he muttered more to himself than to me, “You like kids, right? More like teenagers really…” I frowned.

“I’m neither here nor there when it comes to teenagers and to be perfectly honest, you and I are barely out of that messy age at any rate. So what’s the job?”

He shrugged squeamishly, “My friend Marluxia, he’s the dean of some prissy academy and well- you know rich brats, how they behave, well he’s thinking of getting a school psychologist…interested?” I was contemplating the job offer but Demyx plowed on, probably misinterpreting my silence for displeasure. “Look, I’ll concede it seems a little beneath you but…well a job’s a job right? And the kids will like you. Trust me, I’m in the business of knowing what kids like and you do not look like a typical, crusty old psychologist. The crazy red hair, facial tattoos- nice, I approve by the way- and piercings, and- get this- if I recommend you, he’ll hire you on the spot. Nice salary, same vacations as the kiddies-”

“Yeah, Demyx, I’ll take it. It’s fine…” He looked awfully relieved almost comically so. Narrowing my eyes, I gave a suspicious look, “You didn’t already accept the job in my place did you?” He laughed nervously and then fervently denied it.

“Alright then, I’ll call him up. Anyway don’t let any of those messed up snots push you around okay? If they’re too crazy just write them off and give them some pills, you’ll get paid either way”. He said rummaging in his pocket for his cell while signaling for a waitress to bring him another cocktail. Demyx displayed remarkable talent for multitasking if it would make his laziness more enjoyable.

“That sounds like a pretty slipshod way of doing my job” I said signaling for another drink as well.

“Well, it’s all about the money right?”

“You sound like a whore, and you dress like one too. Let’s take separate cabs home. I don’t want people to think I’m soliciting a professional”. He gave me his trademark pout.

The next day saw me at the plaza in Twilight Town. As always the plaza was abuzz with the routine of shoppers, workers, officials and children. The plaza, with its sights and smells never changed. It acted as a solid moment in time despite life’s ebb and flow, like a still life painting. The morning sun was a bright fiery orange and began the day by lifting the headiness of the morning fog which had settled the night before during a storm. The concrete still glimmered with miniature ponds and rivulets of rain water.

“Are you Axel?” a voice called in the crowd. It was Marluxia. He matched the description Demyx gave me:

“Look for the pretty boy with the girly pink hairstyle and dramatic way of gesturing and you’ve got Marluxia.”

I approached him and we began our pseudo job interview. He offered, with what appeared to be a haughty smile but was probably just the expression that came to him most naturally, to walk me to the school and show me around.

“I should warn you, these kids…they’ve got baggage. Normally the board doesn’t approve of what they interpret as outlandish expenses which they -no offence or anything, considered a school psychologist to be once upon a time, but now…well times have changed.” Here he paused as we neared the gate. He leaned into me and began to whisper, I could make out the faint scent of roses. I would later begin to associate that scent with him exclusively. “Listen, there’s a child to whom I need you to pay particular attention. He may well be the sole reason you were hired. The boy’s name is Sora, a third year. He, as of two years ago, has suffered from multiple personality disorder or at least that’s what I was told.”

“I see, and has he been medicated? Institutionalized?” I asked for the sake of procedure.

“Well no because, well the fact is that boy has been to psychologists before of course, but now they’ve decided that he needs to be monitored during school hours, not that he poses any threat but…”

“Go on…” I urged him. This seemed to me an unusually dramatic way of approaching a textbook case of MPD. Then again, if what Demyx had described was true, this was just his way.

“The fact is, nobody could conclude with absolute certainty that it is multiple personality disorder, it really is a remarkable thing and you’ll concede it too when you see it. Sora completely changes; even physically, he takes on a different hairstyle and colour, his sense of style changes and his entire physiology. It is perhaps the single most mystifying and extreme form of MPD ever to be recorded.” His tirade had been accompanied by ridiculous gesticulation and facial expressions which made it hard to take him seriously. It seemed horribly exaggerated. I cleared my throat,

“So Sora’s other personality…” I began as we climbed the stone steps into the now sun-drenched building.

“Actually, they’ve named him, this other kid” he said and I wondered at the strange phrasing. “His name is-”. And here I recall that I gave a great shudder. If I am honest I am quite sure that at that particular moment in time, I did no such thing but the other me in my memory, having the hindsight, or in this instance the foresight to understand the significance of his next word did shudder as his only way to express the awesome power of that name. That, at this moment a word would be spoken that would mark the beginning that which will never cease to haunt me even now.

“-Roxas”.

Whoo, I’ve been meaning to get this fic off my chest for a while now.

Plz read ‘n’ review.