He's pulled another all nighter it seems, the dark circles under his eyes and the pale sunlight creeping through the tower windows are indicative enough of that. Ephemer stands with a loud yawn, arms reaching towards the ceiling in a big stretch. After a moment, he makes his way to the common area of the tower where he finds Ven awake on one of the sofas. With the element of surprise on his side, Ephemer throws himself toward the sofa & across Ven's lap. “ Couldn't sleep either, Ven ? ” he asks.
The last few weeks have passed in an unintelligible blur.
Barely a month ago, he was just an average Keyblade wielder without any impressive achievements to his name and no party to call his own. He would spend his days trying to do whatever he could to make the lives of those around him a little easier; fighting off any Heartless straying too close to shops and other public spaces, offering a helping hand to the Keyblade wielders just starting out, diligently collecting Lux while out visiting other worlds with Chirithy at his side. Nobody knew his name. He had no real friends to speak of. When it came to the weekly rankings, he couldn’t ever hope to compete against the stronger wielders fighting for the top positions.
He didn’t think anyone would ever notice him, which is what made things all the more surprising when Master Ava approached him, asking him to join a separate faction of her creation in order to avoid the upcoming war and ensure the survival of light. If that in itself wasn’t enough, he was given an even more ridiculous request: to join four other Keyblade wielders as Union Leaders in the new world.
Ven still doesn’t understand why he was chosen; out of the hundreds—maybe even thousands—of talented Keyblade wielders with the determination and skill to lead, he was granted the chance to escape from a terrible war while so many others were forced to fight in it and die. While he’s never admitted to any of his doubts out loud, Chirithy seems to have sensed his disquiet and has attempted on multiple occasions to assuage his guilt, with little success.
Is he really worthy of this chance? Is he the right person to lead a Union in the place of the previous Masters? How can he be so selfish as to feel relieved that he lived while so many others didn’t? His mind has been abuzz with these unsettling questions for weeks, making it extremely difficult to sleep. And when he does sleep, he sees their faces; wielders he bumped into on the street or helped in a raid. Wielders he only ever saw from a distance, laughing with their party members. Wielders who praised his newly upgraded Keyblade before racing off to join their friends. He sees all of them. Staring with dark, accusing eyes, a rusted Keyblade plunged through their chest. Why you? Their eyes seem to ask, burning into his very soul. Why do you get to live?
He doesn’t want to dream anymore. He doesn’t want to see their faces twisted with malice and pain. So, he tries to stay awake.
Ven isn’t sure what time he crept out of his room to hide downstairs in the common room, focusing instead on picking out an armful of random books from the nearby shelves in an attempt to pass the time by reading under dim lamplight. He’s still struggling with the longer, more complex words that appear in some of the books Brain has lying around ( Ven takes a moment to write some of them down in order to ask him about them later ), but his reading and writing skills have shown rapid improvement under the combined tutelage of his fellow Union Leaders in the past few weeks. It helps that he genuinely enjoys the challenge. Due to becoming a Keyblade wielder at such a young age, Ven didn’t have much of an education and while he’s been able to pick up on things here and there, he’s enjoying the new and unexpected opportunity he’s been granted to learn, even if his new friends don’t exactly qualify as ‘proper teachers’.
With so many books to hold his attention, it doesn’t take long for Ven to lose track of time. All he knows is that it’s late when Ephemer finds him— or, perhaps it’s really early if the first rays of pale sunlight beginning to stream through the tower windows and the stinging of his eyes are anything to go by. As engrossed in reading as he is, Ven scarcely has the chance to register movement out of the corner of his eye and lift his book out of the way before he finds his lap suddenly and heavily occupied.
Ven yelps, his heart leaping into his throat. Though the sight of his friend’s silver hair calms him somewhat, he struggles to get his erratic heartbeat under control, his mouth unbearably dry as he gasps, “ E-Ephemer! What are you—! ”
Ephemer’s curious query cuts him off mid-sentence. Dread sinks into his stomach, like a dark, festering pit. Despite the playfulness in his friend’s tone, the question feels like an accusation. Ven shuts his mouth with an audible click. The truth lies heavily on the tip of his tongue, the words lodged in his throat, but his fear of abandonment—his fear of hearing someone he’s come to care about tell him his doubts are real—keeps the truth from coming out. A snatch of nervous laughter escapes him as he spins a cautious white lie, “ Yeah, I-I couldn’t sleep. It’s been so busy it’s kinda hard to sleep, I guess. ”
His smile is weak when he turns the question back on his friend, gesturing to the dark shadows beneath Ephemer’s eyes, standing out against his pale skin, “ You too, right, Ephemer? ” At his inquisitive stare, Ven rushes to add, “ You’re still awake when everyone else goes to bed, and you’re always awake when they get up, too. Do you…ever sleep? ”
Ephemer looks surprised for a moment before sheepish amusement breaks across his features and he lets out a laugh, “ Haha, I guess you’re right! I didn’t think anyone would notice… ”
Ephemer continues to chatter away, showing no signs of moving from his position sprawled across Ven’s lap anytime soon. Despite himself, Ven feels his posture begin to relax as the dread eroding at the walls of his stomach begins to melt into the background once more, allowing him the chance to enjoy Ephemer’s warm presence. Is this okay? He wonders inwardly as he gazes down at his friend’s laughing face, Is it okay to be happy that I met them? Is it okay to be happy that I have friends, even if so many people died? Even if I’m not strong enough to be a leader?
Ephemer meets his gaze, still smiling, his expression bright and inviting. Ven feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in response. A hesitant, hopeful resolve begins to build behind his ribs. Even if it’s not okay, even if it makes him selfish, Ven doesn’t want to change this moment for the world. Even if everything else falls down around them, he hopes the five of them can stay like this for just a little longer.
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