Fate and Silent Angels

If star-crossed lovers are destined to be together, what do you call it when Fate commands we be kept apart.… Roxas x Sora


I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone. I sit here, watching you sleep, your breathing quiet and even. It was almost as if you were at peace.

I know better, though. I know just how badly you've been pushing yourself, trying to find them, trying to fool the two with you into thinking that you're alright. I alone truly know just how hard you push yourself, how exhausted you are. Not just physically but emotionally as well. Between the constant battles, the hope that comes with each new world that maybe, just maybe, this time you'll find them, this time, you'll know they're safe, and the crushing disappointment when they fail to appear, you're being ripped to pieces. But no one knows it but me.

Every night now, I've pulled my spirit from you so I can watch you while you sleep. It's the only way I can see you, unless you look in a mirror. Being reunited with my Other isn't at all what I thought it would be like, not that I had much time to speculate. I can see everything you can, hear everything you can, smell, taste, touch. I can sort of feel your emotions. Kinda, a little bit. I know you can feel mine. Why else would you have cried when we left Twilight Town? That was me crying then, you know. Those were my tears.

What I don't know is what you're thinking. Our minds aren't connected.

Maybe that's why I've always found it easier to think when I'm outside of you. I have more control out here, at least. I can move as I want to. So it's ironic that I've discovered that even while separate, I still can't get away from you. Not that I want to, but….

I can't help staring at you, observing you, memorizing your every feature. From the curve of your chin to the slight chip in your left ear to the unintentional tattoo you gave yourself that time two years ago when you accidentally stabbed yourself in the arm with a mechanical pencil and the little bit of graphite was too deep to get out so it stayed there as a little black mark on your otherwise perfect skin. And yeah, I have all your memories, even the ones you'd very much prefer to forget, and if I could meet you properly, face to face, believe me, I'd have a ball and a half teasing you about them. But anyway, the point is that it's my only time to get away from you and yet I find myself observing you, trying to understand you.

That's how I know. I've watched you.

I know about the nightmares. I know how badly you want to find them. How much it haunts you what could have happened to them, what could happen still. Our minds don't need to be connected for me to know the horrors your subconscious can come up with. Is he still himself, or has the darkness overtaken him? Will she forgive you for leaving her alone for so long with only a story that no one will believe? What of your family and friends, the ones who were lost when paradise was destroyed? And I also know those fears have absolutely no reservations about manifesting themselves into nightmares, nightmares so bad I can't even speak of the anguish I know they have caused you. I've tried to rouse you from them on more than one occasion but it doesn't work so well from the inside, you just pull me down into them with you. I would keep you company in those horrid dreams if I thought it would help you any, but I know better. I can't pull you out of despair if I'm drowning in it myself.

So I've taken to separating from you every night for a different reason. Not to watch you but to watch over you, to protect you from your inner darkness. And from the way you've been squirming for the past few minutes, I'd say it's about ready to rear its ugly head again.

…Damn it, I hate it when I'm right.

You whimper softly, the nightmare plaguing you yet again. I reach down and caress your face and hair with my hands, using my half of our spirit to calm yours. You pant and moan, struggling against something you can't fight and probably can't even see. I'm patient and wait it out, just continuing to soothe you as best I can. But the nightmares are worse than usual, however, and tears come to your eyes despite my efforts.

So I kiss you. It's the only way to calm you when the nightmares get really bad like this. It's a guilty pleasure, I'll admit but I try to be light about it at first. I know you are loyal to her and I don't want to force you to break the unspoken vow you made to her, however unwittingly.

It never stays light, though. I'm addicted to you, you see. I press my lips to yours and taste you, a flavor not unlike the blue ice cream I used to eat in Twilight Town. Your lips are salty from your sweat and your tears but at the same time sweeter than any forbidden fruit. And like that ice cream, I can never get enough. All too soon and yet never soon enough, I'm kissing you deeply, plundering your warm mouth, hunting for more of your exquisite taste.

I need not worry about waking you. You can't feel me, phantom that I am when I'm separate from you like this. At least, I don't think you can. I've kissed you before and you've never woken any of those other times so I've learned not to worry. And like all those other times, before I realize what I'm doing, I'm lowering myself on top of you, feeling the contours of your strong body, pressing against you with my own. One hand is buried in your hair, fingering the cinnamon locks. The other is busy wrapping its corresponding arm around your waist, pulling us even closer together. I'm kissing you with abandon now, my own ghostly tears streaming down my face to mingle with yours because there's one more thing I know and it hurts like none other.

As sweet and as wonderful and delicious as this is, I know you'll never kiss me back. And the thought alone is enough to break my nonexistent heart.

I'm always here for you, by your side (in spirit, anyway) helping you, healing you, completing you, but you have no idea I'm even here. I chase the darkness from your dreams. I kiss you, touch you, soothe you, worship you. Yet no matter what I do, you'll never feel me. Come first light and I am banished from your side, back to the deepest depths of your being where you can't feel me.

I'm a Nobody. I can't truly feel sorrow or despair. I know these things, know I'm empty and it's supposed to be that way. But I think of you and these things that come between us and something inside me aches so badly.

I am you but I also want to be with you. I want to be real to you. I want to defy fate with you, fight to exist as my own entity so I can be someone precious to you, but if I did, I would be taking something irreplaceable from you. That's the big irony, isn't it? I am something vital to you but not in the way I want to be. I want to be precious, but I cannot bring myself to force us to come to that impasse.

It hurts like a bitch, this. If you were anyone but you, I would raze all Hell to change my fate, regardless of the consequences.

But I can't. To do so would harm you, something I will allow no one to do, not even myself. Not now, not ever. It's the truth, the cold, hard, bitter truth that I can't escape.

As much as I despise it, this is my fate.

Damn it all.

You have my heart, ARE my heart in every way.

But I want a heart of my own so I can love you and no one could say otherwise because it would be truth and not just hopeless, pointless wishing.

And… more than anything, that you could never feel my love, or even know of it, is my greatest regret…


He's here again, the boy who watches over me while I sleep. Almost every night now, he comes seemingly out of nowhere and saves me from my nightmares. They've been pretty bad as of late.

But I have yet to have a single one that can't be banished by his kiss.

Some guys, if not most, would be disgusted by another guy kissing them, especially in their sleep. But he isn't just another guy. And I know I should feel at least a little guilty for letting someone kiss me who isn't Kairi -and liking it- but I can't. The only shame I feel around him is shame that I'm undeserving of him. He's so… his touch is too tender and his frame is too slight and his kisses are too honest and open and pure and mind-numbingly sweet.

He's an angel.

Why it is me he protects and touches and kisses, I don't know. I don't know anything about him, this guardian angel of mine. I don't know his name. I don't know why I feel so warm when he kisses me. And for all his love and his heavenly grace and all the comfort he has brought me, I don't know why something about him seems so inexplicably, so heart-breakingly sad. But how I long to know.

I would ask, but that's the crux of the problem, isn't it? For whenever he's here, my mind and my spirit are wide awake, but my body won't listen to me. I can sense everything; I can hear the quiet noises of the night around us, the rustling of the sheets, his heavy breathing when things get a little too hot; I can feel the full length of his body resting against mine, his hair brushing against my face, his soft lips and talented, wicked tongue; I can smell his scent, so much like his taste, like cool, rich vanilla.

But I can do nothing. While he's here, my body is auto-piloting on sleep mode and will not take orders from me. I can't even manage to open my eyes to see what he looks like.

And it frustrates me to no end. Because I want to be able to move. I want to be able to hold him, to kiss him back, fiercely and deeply. I want to open my eyes and stare into his because somehow I know they're beautiful, I know he's beautiful. I want to ask him his name and tell him how badly I have wanted to hear his voice. I want to ask him why he's in so much pain and I want to wipe away his tears and replace them with kisses. I want to hold him close in my arms where I could make sure he'd never be sad or hurt ever again. I want to do for him all the things he's done for me.

But I can't freaking move!

It makes me ache and frustrated to something awful, knowing he's so close but being unable to respond to him.

I hate it, but… what can I do?