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Some nights are better than others. Tonight, the sky is littered with a thousand little stars, like flames or pinholes, and Sora wonders if the light he sees is the universe dreaming. He wonders if he could get closer somehow, that he’d be able to watch their dreams like movies. If he reached out and touched that light, maybe he could dream, too. Maybe the world would make sense again, he thinks, sinking further into the sand and letting the waves wash up his shorts.
Of course, that’s not how sleep works for the worlds. Worlds only dream when they’re in trouble.
Flurries of white gather around his legs and the tide pulls sand from under his feet. Every wave sinks him deeper into the sea, to the point where his hands by his sides just graze the surface even though just a few minutes ago, barely his ankles were wet. He steps forward. The ocean climbs further.
How long has it been, again? Five minutes? Maybe ten, he thinks, taking yet another step. The water hits his waist and he hums. Or, someone hums— Sora’s not musically inclined. Right? The tune is unfamiliar to him, and that, coupled with the sudden loss of time, is hint enough. He steps forward yet again and is suddenly aware of how sluggish their movements feel. Little whirlpools swirl around their wrists, crawl up their arms and encase their chest where their heart beats loud and strong.
Their heart hurts; they’re panicking. Where are they?
What are they doing?
How long?
Wait.
Stop. Please stop!
Please wake up. Please wake up please wake up Roxas someone please stop please I’m me please go away stop this we can’t breathe let me go I’m so sorry—
“I’m sorry!—”
Seawater fills his open mouth, spills into his throat and lungs and the surface is so far away. How did he get down here? He’s so tired, so very tired; maybe if he stays down here just a little longer, the lights in the sky will extend from the clouds and save him. Maybe the dreams of the worlds will embrace him and this aching in their chest will finally dissipate like foam on the beach. They could go to sleep again if they just stayed here—
STOP!
Sora explodes from the surface of the water, the night air instantly crystallizing salt in his hair and on his fear-warmed cheeks. He can move his arms again and even though he still feels vaguely disconnected, he’s certain this time that he’s the one moving them. That’s good enough. The beach isn’t too far away, although he still can’t piece together just how much time he’s spent wading into the darkness. Ten minutes, maybe? The boy sighs, shivers, and struggles his way to shore.
He finds his footprints once he gets past the high tide line, meandering back to the shack. His keys and phone are there, along with his shoes and jacket. He glances through the window, spotting a crescent moon through the palms and fronds, along with the thousands of flames and pinholes that hung over the ocean he nearly drowned himself in. Another shiver runs down his spine; he’d only meant to be gone a few minutes. He just couldn’t sleep, he didn’t mean to go that far out, he just wanted to get away from it all. His thoughts, they were so loud and cold and mean, they were so mean! He just wanted to go somewhere they couldn’t hurt him, but now he hurts everywhere. His head is spinning, his fingers and toes are still numb from the water, and God, his heart still aches. It’s always aching. It doesn’t stop. It never stops. They’re always sad. They’re always going to be like this, aren’t they?
He still doesn’t know how to set them free. It’s been almost a year since Xehanort fell. The worlds are at peace, light prevailed, and he’s still a walking prison.
He only wanted to get away from it all. Sora clicks his phone to life. The clock reads 3:46 a.m. The cold, sinking feeling in his chest only magnifies: he left home at 2:00. He really doesn’t want to make the boat trip across the ocean again, at least not until dawn, but Mom wakes up for work in a little over an hour and he doesn’t want her to find his bed empty again. So he drags himself from the seaside shack down to the pier, unties his boat and sets out to the main island. The wobbling and rocking of the waves set his hairs standing and his teeth on edge, and it takes an embarrassing amount of concentration to remain at the forefront of their mind. It all passes soon, though, and he relishes the sound of sand crunching under his boots again. The walk to his house takes just a few minutes, and according to his phone, he’s unlocking his front door at 4:02. Just slink upstairs, pretend to be dreaming for a few hours, and he can escape to the comfort of his best friends.
The door knob clicks, and the white wood creaks as he pushes it open.
Oh no. The kitchen light is on.
She found out. There’s a mug in front of her, her legs crossed as she hangs over the dining room table. The bags under her eyes and the creases in her forehead makes his throat close up. She looks up to meet his gaze when the door closes. Sora isn’t sure what’s worse— the fact that he made her wait on him again, or the fact that it happens often enough she’s no longer surprised.
There’s a tense silence for a moment, and then: “I’m glad you’re home.” Her voice is soft. Tired. No, exhausted. Sora can’t bring himself to look at her so tired. “I’m sorry I left,” he starts, and then Roxas shoves his way forward in their mind: “I didn’t mean to do it, I just couldn’t sleep and I started thinking bad again and I wanted to stop and—”
“We’re sorry,” Xion finishes. Wait, “I’m sorry.”
His mom looks almost as bad as they feel. “It’s okay. I love you,” she whispers after one, two, three tense minutes, pulling her weary son into her arms. Sora falls into her arms, grateful for the brief moment his head stops spinning and his heart stops aching. “Is there anything I can do?”
He can’t look her in the eyes.
“I don’t think so.”
So he doesn’t.
“I still love you.”
He pauses, “I know.”
His mom follows him upstairs and pulls the door shut when he falls into bed. His window is still open from just hours ago, but he never leaves twice in one night. The summer is still in full swing, too, and ceiling fans only accomplish so much on their own— besides, the night is so beautiful, and if he’s hurting half as bad as she thinks he is, she isn’t sure she completely blames him for leaving. On the other side of the door, Sora counts the stars like flames or little pinholes, peaking out from behind white clouds and palm fronds. “I’m sorry I did that,” Roxas starts, Sora’s mouth doing the talking. Xion cuts him off, though— sometimes it’s hard to tell who is who, but Xion’s voice is usually softer, even aloud through Sora. “We were all dissociating,” she says, “it’s no one’s fault.”
I just need to sleep. Sora doesn’t like to talk while they are; this shared consciousness still feels odd, uncomfortable at times, and it can be easier to let them steer for a while.
"Okay."
The body doesn’t sleep. Roxas and Xion take turns at the front of their mind while Sora retreats, safeguarded even from dreams. They tire easily, not used to taking lead unless it’s on accident, but between the two of them they’re able to grant Sora a few hours of peace. A gentle breeze floods the room, malted milk curtains billowing over closed eyelids while the universe twinkles, unbothered.
Some nights are better than others.
Light spills into Sora’s room at 5:32 a.m. Xion is at the helm now, drowsy and a little lonely, perhaps, but she can feel Sora’s heart resting with theirs and that makes this effort worth it. Roxas is doing a bit better as well. He always feels responsible whenever Sora dissociates that heavily.
They deal with the darkness in different ways. Sora tries to drown it out in optimism and the warmth of his friends, preferring to ignore the negativity all together. That backfires on him, though, and he’s still learning that it’s okay to feel things other than happiness. No one expects him to be okay all the time, except himself. Old habits are hard to break, Xion thinks. Roxas, on the other hand, is better at confronting the sadness in him— them?— but where Sora blocks it out completely, Roxas loses himself in it. He becomes chained to the very negative thoughts he was trying to face. These dissociations are particularly painful for everybody, which is why he always feels absolutely horrible for inciting them.
That’s not to say they spend every waking moment in pain. In the time since Xehanort’s downfall, Sora’s been reaching out to his friends and family for support (just like he promised he would, as difficult as it can be sometimes) and even though they’re still not sure how to separate all of them, they’re learning to coexist quite harmoniously. They’ve spent the summer in sun-beaten glory. At Kairi’s convincing, Sora picked up a summer job to fill the hours, and any time not working was spent with her and Riku. They’d go to Radiant Garden every month or so to visit Lea, and that’s when Sora would feel Roxas and Xion coming to the front of their mind most often. It was different from their painful dissociations, though: if Lea was there, it was okay. Aqua was there, too, and those were the rare times when Ventus would awaken. From the back of their mind, Sora, Roxas and Xion could see Aqua try to conceal her disappointment. Surely, it wasn’t easy to see her best friend’s motions through someone else’s body entirely; surely, she missed seeing his face more than she would ever dare put into words. It was better than his sleep, though, and until they could separate the four of them, this would do.
They’d learned to make it okay. Some days are better than others. Most days are better than others— it’s just that last night was goddamn awful. Xion sighs and Sora’s bangs shift.
Morning.
“Good morning,” she whispers, suddenly aware of Mom stirring just a few rooms over. “Did you sleep okay?” She hadn’t expected him to be awake just yet.
Yeah. Thank you, guys. I’m sorry about all that.
Xion runs a hand through his hair and wipes the sand from his eyes, yawning. “Don’t be. It was all of us,” she starts, speech slurred, “‘ometimes bad things just happen.”
Sora falls uncharacteristically quiet. “Wanna drive?” Xion asks, and there’s a smile in her voice, mellow and kind. She was always good at setting the tone of the day, especially after a night like last night. Sora’s heart lightens a bit then and she can feel an actual smile on their lips, his consciousness moving to the forefront. Yeah, for a bit. Go to sleep.
They hum. It’s a tune Sora’s familiar with this time and when he takes full control, although his limbs are heavy with exhaustion, he feels connected to them again. “Check in on Roxas for me,” he mumbles as he swings his legs out of bed, and his chest feels warm for a moment in response.
His phone buzzes on the bedside table and Sora reaches over to grab it. It’s Riku.
working today? (6:03 a.m.)
Was he? What day was it, again? The display in the corner says Tuesday.
i think so. beach after? (6:05 a.m.)
nah, kai wants movie night (6:06 a.m.)
Sounds like a plan. Pour paopu smoothies for a couple of hours, run to his house to change, and he’ll be home free for the evening. He needs the company, he thinks, rubbing the goosebumps from his arms. Of course, he’s never alone. He hasn’t been alone since he was four years old. A part of him wonders what it’ll feel like when he finally figures out a way to give Roxas, Xion and Ven their own bodies again— he likes to think it’ll be liberating, not just for them but for him as well. If he’s honest with himself though, as he sometimes is in the quiet of the night, he fears he’ll actually miss the closeness. It’s a selfish thought, one that sets him on an uncomfortable edge, so he whisks it away as quickly as it comes.
He needs company that isn’t in his head. Or, his heart?
see you tonight, save me a spot on the couch (6:08 a.m.)
Yeah, heart. In the meantime, though, it'll be okay. They'll make it okay; they always have.