#acgory

slurps the ice cream right outta yer hand

what have i done to deserve this?

THE BOY IS NOTHING BUT A MASK.  A veneer fit for polite society and yet there exists cracks beneath that polished surface,  proof that shows a certain lack of care.  How surprising for one so taken with his public image.  That they stand together in near privacy would mean his own appearance should matter so little when there are so few who seem to give his presence any mind.  It is the king who draws all attention,  a lightning rod so to speak,  where adoration and animosity both strike.  He is nothing but a guest,  a stranger to their courts and one seemingly of enough note to centre in the gossip that these people whisper behind closed doors.  And at times,  behind his very back.  

MILK & HONEY 

@acgory ♥

Xion wound her arms tight around Lea’s thin waist and her nose buried into his chest. His hand laid across her back, his thumb ran soothing circles along her shoulder and neck. He petted down her the stray strands of hair and muttered small, soft platitudes between breaths. Her tears stained the front of his shirt, her forehead pressed to the seam of his sternum. Her hip was sore from lying across the floor and no doubt his back protested leaning against the wall for so long but Xion held tight to Lea. Her fingers bunched in the fabric of his coat to ensure he stayed. Each rise and fall of his chest, the echo of his heartbeat against his ribs, promised that life still fluttered in him and she needed that constant reassurance. 

Her boot heel crushed Lea’s shoulder, splintering and shattering bone, pinning him to the ground. Brilliant green eyes stared-up, widened at her, pain shaped in a voiceless ‘o’ on his mouth. The gold and silver Kingdom Key impaled him through the solar plexus. Nothing rippled through her, no warmth and no pain, no fear and no rage. A weak and limp hand of thin, pale fingers reached for her, extended to his friend whose features twisted in cruel, cold sneer. Xion’s eyes narrowed and with a twist of her wrist, wrenched the wound open. She listened to his scream with a half-cocked smile. 

His words inspired another choked sob from Xion, exhaustion ran through her. Every muscle of her body protested the effort of staying conscious a second longer. There was no debate, she had to find him immediately after waking. It was the dead middle of the night but he was still awake. Xion had to touch and feel where the keyblade had pierced; See the light in his eyes. It was an argument to admit to the dream and another one to confess the contents. And she did, like a criminal on tribunal and he the judge, jury, and executioner. But no judgement came, just holding and reassurance: Yes, he was alive; No, she would never do anything like that; It was just a dream. 

Lea promised that for each tear she shed it was a conversion. Old pain to new strength; What was worthless to something valuable. Life gave her lemons so best make lemonade. She did not know if there was worth, collapsed against the kitchen floor and clinging to Lea while bawling her eyes out. It was better than fighting through a tsunami of fear alone in her bed though. It was better than condemning herself for a crime she never committed and finding a rational voice to bring her back to the shores of logic. 

And those waves, which crashed against her, throwing her high into rocks and bruising her, subsided. Till nothing but gentle tides and ripples flooded her raw nerves. It was a first, to awaken from a nightmare and find a sense of peace. But there it was, when her tears dried to trails of salt on her cheeks and she was left with nothing but a soft, hitched breath. it was different, to press so close to someone in genuine comfort, to feel secure enough to the submit to the heaviness of her eyelids. Perhaps, Xion found weight in Lea’s words and reassurances, that she could take all that she had been given and find value in it. Find some semblance of good in all the mess and pain.