Sora had said in a voice that sounded foreign in his ears. The sweet scent of desperation coated his words, an emotion he had never felt, never had the displeasure of knowing. It was an emotion that Roxas knew exclusively, Sora was too good to feel it, to understand what it meant. Yet, the boy who stood in front of him, who looked like his nobody and felt like himself, stood as if he had been battling that emotion for eons. Perhaps he had, perhaps he was the reason Sora was feeling this horrible emotion, forcing him to drown in it.
His demand had been careless; his mouth has spoken before he had thought out his question. He wanted to know who this boy was, why he was here buried so deeply within his fractured heart. How many others were trapped within Sora's heart, waiting for him to seek them out? It hurt, the acute pain of knowing that the heart that he thought was his had been broken, torn, ripped apart and stitched back together by the will of others. He had been tampered with, and if he looked into those crystalline eyes that mirrored his, he could see the same pain within them.
It scared him, knowing that this broken boy had been placed into his heart. How much of him was Sora, how much of him was the boy who stood across from him? His person was falling to pieces, the boy across from him was whole, and he felt emotions that never dared touch Sora's smooth skin. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, his hands grabbing pathetically at his face to stop them, to stop the water from tainting his skin, his soul that was no longer his exclusively.
He did not want the other boy to see him like this, open and so horribly broken. He was not Sora. Sora was happy; Sora was the definition of light, of good, of justice. He was a scared child, forced to do the bidding of faceless men. Had the boy that stood before him been the same? Had he been used until there was nothing left and disposed of until a day when he had purpose again? Would the same be done to Sora, his heart thrown carelessly into another with no thought of the anguish and pain of either party?
Show me who you are.
Sora's voice was hoarse, it pained him to speak. All his answers lay with the other boy who slowly walked towards him. His fate, his future, his everything would be determined by what his opposite said, by what he did. His tears burst through, trailing down his cheeks in rapid succession; Sora had never been so frightened. This was his end; he would never be the same. He would feel the pain and suffering that every other living being felt. He would no longer be half a person, he would be complete again.
I let Roxas suffer so I cannot feel.
His realization has come too late, the boy is there in front of him, staring so resolutely into Sora's soul that he can do nothing but turn his head away from those piercing eyes. He wants his destruction over with; something he is sure the other boy will not give him swiftly. Those hands that turn his face forward are too soft, too kind for someone like Sora. They scour his already burning tear-stained face, his punishment is too kind, much too kind.
His lips are on Sora's, and Sora can feel his tainted skin infecting the other boy. Yet he cannot pull away, cannot bring himself too. The venom that both of them share is addicting, they are both tainted, Sora realizes. His tears were hidden behind blank eyes; those hands that were caressing Sora's skin were trembling. He was just as afraid of his own end as Sora was. They are the same; they share the same brittle heart that keeps beating long after the body and mind have gone.
You are Sora, and I am Ventus.
The boy says as their lips part, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted from Sora's chest. He cannot help but smile, and Ventus reciprocates with enthusiasm. Sora knows that this situation will repeat, and he hopes that Roxas will be able to smile back at him as warmly as Ventus does. He hopes that Roxas will be able to forgive him for selfishly keeping his heart from healing. He wants to feel every emotion, he wants be the unfailing stronghold that none shall ever hope to strike down.
There is no light with darkness, no darkness without light, the war he fights is worthless, but if it calms his heart, then he will fight it till the bitter end. He will be Sora until the end, just like Ventus was Ventus, just like Roxas was Roxas. He will make the Worlds remember him; remember all of them, that he will make sure.