#crowncode

 ❝[W]hat?❞

[♕] PILLOW… PILLOW. BOTH CUSHIONY THROWS available to him on the bed are tossed wayward at Sora's cell phone, placed carefully on the nightstand next to his bed, a futile attempt to shut him up as both miss their mark by a mile. Blankets are pulled over his head following a drawled groan, rasping against a throat taut with bruises all colors of a spectrum from new and old marks. Hands, fingers. Whatever, it didn't matter- as long as the likes of Saïx or Xigbar could attempt to strangulate the life out of him following another failed mission.

HE'S not at all fond of a majority of the other members, and yet, here he is. Committing attempted technological manslaughter on one of the only friends he has. What a great friend you are, Roxas. Just like good old daddy dearest, Xemnas.

"You can sleep you know? It's okay."

@crowncode

He didn't even realize how much his dry eyes were burning until he blinked, closing them for a few seconds and-- Yeah, he was tired. Of course he was tired, but he didn't want to sleep. Didn't want to wake up with the fading sense of loss, again.

He also hadn't really wanted to interact with-- What? "Data Sora"? The "system helper" that Mickey had assured him would help him out with organization and maybe even searching, which would have been all well and good if he wasn't modeled after...

Riku sighed, rubbing his face. It was not okay. How'd the program even get on his devices, anyway? "Not yet." He sounded snappish and tired even to himself, which seemed like a feat. He'd just been... looking at pictures on his phone. And world maps, of course, plotting out routes, but when he was tired, eventually it always came back to scrolling pictures he'd been sent. No matter how obscured or blurry or badly timed, he'd kept all of them.

"you don't have to put on a smile for me." her gummiphone rang, a familiar face popping up. it was - difficult to explain data-sora's existence, how he'd been left behind - perhaps that was why he && the artist bonded so easily? they both knew the feeling.

"do you wanna talk about it?" the screen lit up, the boy on a beach - hands pressed against a metaphorical window. not pitying eyes, but empathetic ones. it must be hard. "we can always just sit here, if you want?"

where it hurts || @crowncode

the sound of the gummiphone had become a great source of comfort for her.

she was lonely; there was no denying that. while everyone else seemed to have things figured out, while it seemed as if everything had fallen mostly into place (not truly. not while sora was still missing.), naminé was struggling.

there were routines and habits and old and precious friends. bonds formed out of grit and shared experiences and mutuality. it was if they all belonged to a beautiful puzzle, only its center, most precious piece missing. and naminé... she was the odd one out. she didn't know how she fit - how her piece matched the bigger picture.

and then there was sora. data sora. a miracle, really - a being not meant to exist defying the odds and enduring, anyway. she knew exactly how that was like - she had felt great empathy for him and had quickly befriended him.

who would have thought sora's promise would become real in such a way?

His earnestness felt so familiar. Somehow, that only served to make the question hurt worse. "My situation's probably different to yours, then. It's not that simple for me."