Unbetitelt

Aqua closes her eyes, her new way of ‘resting’. She can’t have nightmares if she doesn’t sleep. And she could go without it for an unnatural length of time. Her leg bounces faster. It wasn’t worth it if it let her looking like a corpse was livelier than her: dark bags under the eyes, muddled thoughts, spacing out…mind not there from exhaustion. Her head tilts back heavily. She shakes awake. This isn’t working.

She sits on the comfy chair by the desk, her eyes glossing over the projects she has yet to finish; paper stars and shiny wayfinders waiting on her. She pulls a black ribbon she’d fashioned into a bow for Xion…little things to keep her mind occupied. 

Her leg threatens to start bouncing again. She stands up to the full-length mirror across the room, bow still in hand as she examines her reflection; a daily compulsion—a way to prove it’s just the boring old mirror she’d always had. She lifts the bow to her hair, looking for the right spot. She clips it on. It’s too small to make a difference, too bland to stand out. 

Smile.

She can’t. Not when she’s slowly retreating into her shiny shell of everything’s fine. She’ll spiral, she’ll dwell, she’ll overthink. A thousand problems forming in her mind

…I was wrong. This could’ve been handled better. Did I do the right thing…?  

“Stop. You promised yourself you would put an end to it,” Aqua says, turning on her side and gazing at herself. “Smile…”

You’re never fully dressed without a smile! Ven had said once.

And smile she does. It almost comes naturally now, her eyes reacting the way they should, her lips curving the way they should—it does make it easier to banish negative thoughts. It’s a temporary bandage for a deep wound that requires stitching.

“Ah, there I am. Morning, Aqua.” 

***

Aqua crosses the archway to the kitchen, a buttery bread-like smell wafting in the air as she steps in. Pancakes! Her mouth waters in anticipation of the fluffy confections—the taste of real food. She catches sight of Terra handling breakfast. Her expectations grow even more.

Ven sits at the table a few feet away, working on a stack of chocolate chip pancakes. “Morning, Aqua,” he greets between mouthfuls, manners forgotten.

She smiles and ruffles his hair playfully. "Morning, Ven," she says, sitting beside him.

“Augh, not my hair again,” he complains, attempting to fix it. “I was going out later…”

Aqua chuckles. “Well, guess you’ll just have to do it again.” Her eyes catch a flicker of movement.

A small paw emerges from under the patterned tablecloth, snatching a chocolate chip from Ven’s plate. Chirithy, Ven’s Dream Eater companion, knows it’s more than welcome at the table, yet it often acts more like a house cat than the sentient being it is.

Aqua glances over her shoulder. Terra continues to flip pancake after pancake, unaware of her presence. Or he’s deliberately ignoring her again. She leaves the chair and leans on the marble counter dividing the kitchen and dining room, chin resting on her hands while watching Terra work. Her eyes wander on his back, on defined muscles and scars peeking from under his tank top, without fear of meeting golden eyes.

She clears her throat softly. “Good morning, Terra,” she says, her voice hesitant.

Terra doesn’t answer. Disappointment slaps her in the face, and relief comforts her simultaneously. At least she tried. She’s about to retreat when she notices a rhythm to his movements and the earbuds in his ears. His gummiphone is on the far end of the countertop. He’s just lost in his music, a habit he developed after their return. It helps me stay sane, he’d once confessed. 

Sane and a rusty safebox full of secrets, waiting for the right key. 

Terra feels around for a bowl of batter on the countertop. Aqua slowly pulls it away. He turns. Their eyes meet briefly, his darting away before she gets a chance to—their dance of avoidance making a comeback. She tilts her head, waiting for him to process their closeness, half of her grateful at the lack of eye contact, the other craving it.

“Morning,” she repeats, offering him the warmest smile she can muster, a fragile peace offering.

Terra returns a tight-lipped smile, points to his ears, and carefully takes the bowl, avoiding contact. He resumes his cooking. She sighs. At least he smiled back—a faint glimmer of victory. 

She returns to the table with Ven. Shortly after, Terra enters the dining area with a fresh stack of pancakes and sets it in front of her. A second later, a steaming cup of coffee appears beside her plate as if by magic. 

“I hope you still like them like that,” Terra says, sitting next to her, but leaving some distance, too little and too much for her. “I might’ve gone a bit overboard,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flickering away from hers.

A bit? she thinks, eyeing the towering stack. There’s enough for two, maybe even three.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he says, adding powdered sugar, a dollop of whipped cream, and blueberries from their small harvest. 

“Wow…” She takes it all in, the aroma, the sight, the intentions behind it. You shouldn’t have. “It all looks so good,” she says. “Thank you.”

His hand moves slightly toward hers. He stops and turns his attention to his food instead. Why does he deprive himself of what they both miss? 

Right, it’s her fault. If only she’d kept calm…

“Terra, pass me the syrup,” Ven says. And there goes Terra’s attention, right with the bottle as he discusses his plans for the day with Ven. Plans that don’t include her.

She doesn’t dwell on the thought for long; her stomach is very aware of the food before her. So she digs in, etiquette aside, and savors the warm, sweet bursts of flavor. Oh, it’s so good! She takes another bite and another and another—delicious! She pauses to sip her coffee, strong and bitter, the perfect complement to the sweetness.

And then she feels eyes on her. Terra and Ven watch with a mixture of amusement and surprise. 

“What is it?” she asks, lowering her fork. “Do I have something on my face?”

Ven snorts, mumbling something under his breath, and Terra chuckles. She rolls her eyes at them playfully. Another one of their inside jokes.

“Are you guys making fun of me?” she asks, feigning offense.

Terra shakes his head, his smile bittersweet. “It’s just the way you eat now,” he says, a hint of wonder in his voice. “It’s…something alright. I didn’t think you’d eat all of it.”

“You could give Lea a run for his money. Not that he has much,” Ven says, drowning his last pancake in syrup. “Oh! We should totally have an eating contest!”

Aqua stares at the last bite on her fork, suddenly self-conscious. Ven rambles about the logistics of a food competition, and she sneaks in a final bite. Terra tries to dissuade Ven from his absurd idea. The conversation shifts to ice cream, music, fruitball, and eventually racing. It’s impossible to keep up, but Aqua doesn’t need to. She fades into the background, content with their voices and the warmth of her coffee in her hands.

She smiles effortlessly, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.

To an outsider, it’s meaningless chatter. But to Aqua, it’s her old life peeking through the penumbra of uncertainty around her. A beacon calling her back to the world she knows, a world she feared she had lost.

But then, her stomach growls again, ridiculous considering the stack of pancakes she devoured. Her eyes wander to Terra’s plate, barely touched and irresistibly delicious looking by the second. Is he going to eat that?  

As if sensing her thoughts, Terra subtly pushes the plate toward her, not missing a beat in his conversation with Ven. He knows her too well—now, before, and always. Aqua doesn’t hesitate, shamelessly claiming the plate. Food should never go to waste. Never. Not when it tastes twice as wonderful.

In the early days after their return, Aqua had found it hard to eat, her appetite absent and her body refusing to cooperate the harder she tried. It was Terra who had patiently coaxed her back to health, spoonful by spoonful, offering warm soups and hearty broths, always accompanied by endless cups of his fragrant, healing teas. She couldn’t blame him for the concern behind every single one of his actions.

She’d starved for so long…

Tired. Cold. Afraid. Every waking moment in the Realm of Darkness had been a battle against the encroaching shadows. Yet she pushed on, driven by sheer will. Then came the hunger, a gnawing, unrelenting beast that consumed her thoughts, reducing her to something primal. All she had left was a single ration, untouched since that fateful night—the night she confronted Terra. No, not Terra— Xehanort.

And she had been ravenous. 

I’m hungry, I’m so so hungry. The words had turned into a maddening mantra, blurring the lines of taboo. Her sanity frayed—she snapped.

Aqua laid her trap. Aqua waited. Aqua did what she had to do.

A tremor runs through her body, the echo of that desperate act still reverberating in her bones. The cup slips from her grasp, a dark stain spreads across the tablecloth like a creeping shadow. Cold dread coils around her heart, squeezing tight, her surroundings dissolving into the void that haunts her nights.  

“What the—?” Ven jerks up, trying to avoid the spreading spill. “Aqua?”

Aqua doesn’t respond. Aqua is not here. Aqua is but an echo of the past right now.

Ven waves a hand in front of her face, his voice tinged with concern. “Aqua?”

She doesn’t even blink.

“Terra,” Ven calls urgency rippling through his voice, pulling Terra’s attention.

Without hesitation, Terra drops the dish towel he’s holding and rushes to her side. “Aqua.” His voice is soft, almost pleading. She doesn’t react. He reaches out, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, squeezing just enough to remind her he’s there. “Aqua…” His voice pierces through the fog, the warmth on her shoulder, tethering her to the present.

Slowly, Aqua blinks, eyes clearing as the kitchen comes back into focus. Her eyes shift from the stained tablecloth to Terra’s hand, firm and steady… still on her shoulder.  

What happened?” Terra asks.

“I…I was…” She trails off, searching for the right words. But what could she say? Sorry, I was reliving a decade’s worth of horrors? No. She’s supposed to be the strong one, the one that holds everything together. “I didn’t get much sleep last night,” she lies. “I’m just a bit tired.”

Terra’s eyes narrow, seeing through her words easily. “I think we should cancel training today,” he says, crossing his arms, his tone gentle but firm. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, the sharpness in her voice surprising even her. Ven shifts uncomfortably, trying to break the tension.

“We could always train with Riku,” he offers, forcing a sheepish grin. “But, honestly, your training’s way better.” Terra shoots him a look. “But, yeah…you should definitely rest.”

“It’s not that we don’t want you to train us,” Terra says softly. “But you need to take care of yourself first—” 

“I said I’m fine,” Aqua interrupts, her tone harsher than she intends. The room falls silent. Neither Terra nor Ven pushes further. 

Ven’s gummiphone chimes, cutting through the tension, offering a lifeline. He glances at the screen, relief flooding his face. “Looks like training will have to wait anyway. Roxas is about to pull of some insane skateboard stunt, and I’m supposed to catch it on video.” He looks at Aqua, his voice hesitant. “I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

She rubs her temples, exhaustion settling over her like a heavy blanket. “Ven, you don’t have to ask for permission,” she mutters, her voice weary.

Terra moves toward the sink, turning the faucet off as if to busy his hands, his back tense. “Still, we like to keep the Master of the castle informed.” 

Aqua cringes at the title. Master of the castle. Master Aqua. It never feels right, not now, not ever. She had asked him not to call her that, yet part of her wonders if he said it to provoke her, to bridge that distance between them.

Her hand grips the back of the chair, and she shoots him a warning look. What are you doing? Terra meets her gaze briefly, his brown eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite read before he looks away, picking at imaginary imperfections in the counter. 

“I’ll tag along,” Terra says, his voice directed at Ven but his gaze drifting back to Aqua momentarily. “If you don’t mind.”

Ven hesitates, his eyes flicking between them, sensing the undercurrent but staying away from it. He taps a quick text into his phone, it chimes three times. “We better get going,” he says nervously, already halfway out the door. “Terra, you coming or…?” 

“I’ll catch up,” Terra responds, his words hollow as he remains in the same place.

Aqua feels the weight of his gaze settle on her, the familiar steps of their broken waltz repeating. She picks up the tilted cup and moves to the sink, rinsing it slowly, the cold water numbing her fingers.

He clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Is there anything you want from Twilight Town? Spices? Extracts?” His words are tentative as if he fears it might mess up.

She places the cup on the drying rack, watching the water droplets slide down its side like tears. “No,” she answers softly. “I’m good.”

A pause follows, a heartbeat of silence that stretches on, filled with all the words they can’t find. Terra steps closer, the scrape of his boots on the tiles drawing her attention. His presence pulls at her—a gravity that makes her body tense and her heart quicken with longing and fear. 

“Come with us today,” he ventures, the words hanging between them like a delicate threat. “It’ll be good to get out…a change of scenery.” 

Her fingers tighten around the edge of the sink. She hasn’t left the Land of Departure since their return. The thought of stepping beyond these familiar walls fills her with dread. “I wish I could. I need to stay and look after this place,” she says, her voice clipped.

“But eventually—” 

“Yes,” she cuts him off, finally turning to face him. “Eventually. I know. It’s in the back of my mind if that’s what you want to hear.”

Terra sighs, the sound weary and full of resignation. He studies her for a moment before speaking again. “So…did you sleep at all last night?” 

“Barely anything,” Aqua admits, crossing her arms. She hates this routine, hates the way they dance around the same conversations, circling unhealed wounds. 

“Nightmares?”

She nods hesitantly. 

“Was it me—”

“Let’s not do this right now,” she interrupts. Yes, it was you again. Yes, you hurt me again. Yes, I was afraid again. But saying it out loud would only deepen the chasm between them.

Terra steps closer, his presence overwhelming, suffocating in its familiarity. Her body tenses, and she resists the urge to pull back. His hand hovers near her face, fingers trembling slightly as he tries to caress her. She almost lets him—she flinches, the reflex beyond her control.

The hurt that flashes across his face makes her stomach twist with guilt. She hates herself for it, hates the way she recoils from him, even when she needs the warmth of his touch.

“Do you need me to leave for some time?” His voice wavers. He’s offering her an escape he dreads she will take, a way to push him away completely if that’s what she needs. 

She wishes she could scream away the storm brewing within her, mind torn between Yes, leave, I can’t do this and No, stay. I need you. But the words stick to her throat. 

He sighs deeply. “I understand. You need your space. I’ll be more than happy to—”

She reaches out before he can finish, her fingers brushing his. Terra hesitates, then laces his fingers with hers, their connection fragile and tentative.

“Talk to me,” he says, squeezing her hand gently, his touch warm against her cold skin.

“I want things to be the same as they were.” The confession slips from her lips, raw and trembling. “I miss us… ”

Terra lets out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “I miss those days too,” he says. “I miss sleeping next to you…I miss when you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m ready for us,” she lies, her chest aching at the sadness in his voice. She isn’t ready—she doesn’t know if she ever will be—but she wants to be.

Terra’s gaze softens,  sadness lingering in his rich brown eyes as he shifts closer. “Can I…hold you?”

His words are more than a request—a test she knows he hopes she’ll pass.

She closes her eyes, forcing herself to nod. “Y-yes…”

Terra moves slowly, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her close. His embrace is warm, and for a moment, she allows herself to sink into the familiarity of it. He rests his head on her shoulder, his breath soft against her neck, a ghost of the kisses they used to share. She shivers, her body responding to the memory of a time when closeness wasn’t tinged with fear. 

He nuzzles her hair, and a delicious shiver runs down her spine. He cups her face and leans in for a kiss—but then, golden eyes flash in her mind, eyes that search for her weaknesses, eyes that aren’t his. His gentle hold now feels like a cage. 

Her body tenses, the moment fracturing.

Terra must sense it because he pulls back, his face clouded with regret. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and kisses her temple carefully.

“I need to catch up with Ven,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something he’s trying hard to hide. “He’s probably halfway to Twilight Town by now.”

He pauses at the archway, glancing back at her. “You’ll be okay on your own, right?”

“I’ll be okay,” she lies, her back still to him.

Terra lingers, his presence heavy, before finally turning and walking away, his footsteps fading into the distance.

As soon as he’s gone, Aqua collapses against the counter, her hands trembling as they grip the cool marble. The warmth of his touch lingers on her skin, slowly fading, like the remnants of a dream as reality settles in.