Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own it. Excuse me while I melt into a puddle of sadness over this terrible truth...

A/N: Indeed, my very few readers, I am alive. I've just been... a bit busy, lately. I am quite amazed I wrote this, seeing as I have been squealing over Pirates of the Caribbean for quite a bit. But the teeny tiny bunny bit me and then held a gun to my head and made me write it. So, here you are!

In the Dead of Night

By Valaina Surion

Sometimes, in the dead of night, as the two slept, they called to each other. And when those sometimes arrived and passed, they would mournfully separate as the light cut fiercely into the sky, wondering when and if they would meet again.

On the rare nights that both managed to momentarily part with the souls of which they were half, they met on the beach. It was, after all, the one place that they had been seeing so much of lately. Every day, they shared the sights and sounds and feelings and emotions and wants and desires of their 'somebodies'. The two had come to appreciate the serene landscape of the beach, and the delicious privacy it gave.

Nights were often spent doing—quite simply—nothing at all. The two would glance at each other, and without so much as trying to force a smile, would then stare at the water. Most often, they walked. Words were rarely said; what was there to say? The emotions that flooded their own separate minds were too complex.

"Do you ever want to go back?" He whispered, his eyes alight with the reflection of the moon.

"Go back?"

"Yeah. Back to when we were…" A pause. What was the word? They had forever been and always would be nobodies. It was their fate. But what exactly had their half-lives been, when they had been separated from their somebodies? When they had once been graced with friends, duties, wishes and dreams? With reality? What had they been?

"…forget it."

Simple desires stabbed at their hearts. Everything they wished for was just out of reach. She longed to see her footsteps in the sand; he relished the memories of a pleasant summer wind tickling his face. When would she feel the dryness of paper beneath her fingertips? When would he taste the salty sweetness of ice cream?

Sometimes, as the two sat together, mere inches between them, they would reach out and hold hands. Calmness would fill them, knowing that they could at least feel the warmth of the other.

"I do miss it."

"…Even though—"

"—Even though my life was not so wonderful, I have long stopped taking for granted the fact that I at least had a life." She glanced briefly at her friend.

"Why do things always turn out like that?" He said aloud, more to himself than her. "Are we all doomed to disappear and only feel regret afterwards?"

"I don't know. We can only hope not."

A smile. A shimmer of a smile, perhaps, but a smile nonetheless. Every time, the two shared a moment of warmth as they came to recognize each other—to find each other, once again.

On this night, she slowly closed the distance between them. Once again they found mere inches between them.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Are you crying?"


"You're crying…"

"I'm not crying." His words were sharp as a knife, slicing through the air. She winced, as though it had cut her as well. He took no notice; and if he did, he ignored it.

"I was just…"

"I know. It's okay. Sorry." He looked down at his lap where his hands were now folded. Her right hand lay strewn across the sand, abandoned after he had removed his hand from hers.

Cautiously, the abandoned hand lifted from the sand and touched his face. He remained cold and silent. He did, however, flinch, once he felt the hand wipe across his wet cheek. Letting out a sigh, his current straight posture turned into a frustrated slump.

"I don't mind if you cry." She said, removing her hand from his face and placing it over his hands. "It is… it's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who does."

A look of momentary shock slapped across the boy's face. "W-what?" He said, staring down at her.

"Do you want to dance?" She repeated calmly, smiling at him the whole way. "I've never really danced before. Remember when Sora asked Kairi to dance? Kairi felt so… happy. It was a nice feeling."

"Dance?" Composure now regained, the only look on his face was one that suggested he thought the girl crazy.

"I thought you would never ask." She stepped forward, taking hold of his hand. With her unoccupied hand, she took his and placed it on her waist. "You remember, right?"

"What're you—"

"Come on."

And the two figures began to twirl in the moonlight.

"I think I've started to forget the color of the sky."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"I really miss seeing the sunlight… and the sky, when it isn't black." She closed her eyes. "It was so beautiful. Don't you remember seeing it all?"

"We see it through Sora and Kairi; you can't have forgotten. It's blue. Just blue. Not much of a difference."

"That's a big difference."

"What's the big difference between day and night? The only thing different is that a certain part of the earth isn't facing the sun." He rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes you can't tell the difference between lightness and darkness, either." The voice that said it was pain-filled, as though it knew from experience.

He found no answer to her words.

Sometimes, on the nights that they found each other, they would fight. Others, they would relish in the comfort of each other, holding on for dear life. Nighttime had once been, to them, an eternity if one should lay awake and could not grasp sleep. But night was now too short, and the agony of consciousness was now a treasure.

"Do you think that, one day, we just won't go back?" Roxas queried. He sat across from the blonde, and both were cross-legged. One hand was outstretched, holding onto a lock of hair. His fingers ran over the lock, relishing the realness of it. Feeling something—anything at all—was always comforting.

"I think that day is far away." Naminé's answer was short and true. She was zipping and unzipping his jacket, filled with a comfort that she could hear the sound it made as it traveled up… and… down. Up… and… down…

"That's okay," He said, shrugging his shoulders. "I enjoy seeing you. If the day comes that we don't go back… Well, I don't know where we'll go either. But if it's away from you, then I think I prefer being here."

A smile ventured across her features. She let go of his zipper; he let go of her hair. Both reached out and found the hand they wished to hold. For the rest of the night they sat, still and quiet, eyes closed, holding onto each other.

Sometimes, as the nobodies sat in the quiet world where they could feel nothing and hear nothing and do nothing, they would find happiness.

Okay, I have a problem with being all fluffy. I have to stop this. Someday I'll write smut (but definitely not for Kindom Hearts... now, Pirates of the Caribbean...), but for now, I'll stick to the disgustingly sweet stuff. Don't you just love Roxas and Naminé?