(A/N): Plot bunnies. Gotta love 'em. At least this one's short.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Roxas twisted in the creature's grasp, struggling against the darkness it was forcing through him, fighting to retain consciousness as he glared into the golden eyes of the man who controlled it. He was a being born of darkness – it shouldn't hurt him like this, shouldn't make the hollow place his heart should've taken throb until he wanted to scream.
He tried to curse, to stab a Keyblade into the man's chest, but he was choking on air, the Keyblades slipping through his increasingly numb fingers and disappearing in twin bursts of radiance and darkness as they clattered to the ground.
The man – who had been a boy when this had all begun – regarded him silently, eyes hard. Roxas raised a trembling hand and clutched at the creature's wrist, digging gloved fingers into shadowy flesh in a desperate attempt to weaken the thing's grip. Something in the silver-haired man's expression softened, and his fingers twitched against his arm. "You really are his Nobody," he murmured softly.
Roxas's lips skinned back from his teeth in a silent snarl. The stranger had said something similar earlier, calling him by a different name and eliciting an unexpected retort on Roxas's part in response to his taunting. "Go…to hell," Roxas grated out, gasping in pain as another wave of darkness was pushed through him. "I'm myself." He thought he might hate the pity he saw well up in those golden eyes.
He was slipping into unconsciousness. He fought it savagely, clawing at the thing's arm, twisting and kicking blindly, the sound of his own strained breathing loud in his ears. As his vision failed and his mind grew cloudy, he had time to wonder if ceasing to exist would be painful, or if he would simply slip away. As his conscious mind fell into darkness, a boy with unruly brown hair and Roxas's own painfully blue eyes beckoned to him, smile soft and somehow sad.
I'm not you.