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Sora hadn’t known what to expect, pulling people out of his heart space, but the reality is far different than anything he could imagine. Ventus had been easy enough: a press of foreheads, a held breath, a shiver, and the bits of him that weren't him went back to being Ven as the other boy's eyes fluttered open. Ventus had been whisked away by Aqua and Yen Sid... and wasn't really someone Sora had to worry about anymore, because he had a place. A family. A purpose.
There’d been no question about freeing Roxas, although the procedure was wildly different... and in a way, Sora is glad they’d done this second. If he’d had the memory of this indescribable pain (like a tooth pulled too early - only it wasn't a tooth, it was every bone in your body and your skin shaking itself loose and your muscles tearing and your voice lost somewhere inside) he didn't think he would have been able to go through it a second time. Afterwards, left in the twilit in-between space, Roxas shaky and unsteady on his feet like a newborn colt, the realization hits that this isn't like Ventus at all. There's nobody waiting to scoop Roxas up; there's nowhere to carry him home to.
(There is Lea, waiting in the shadows, but where could he take Roxas? He's bumming in the spare room in Yen Sid's tower. For now he stays back, far back, far enough that Roxas doesn't notice him when his vision finally focuses - that Roxas only would see the bright lights that are Riku, Sora, and Kairi.)
Instead Sora brings Roxas back to his own home, like a wayward puppy. "Mom," he says when they arrive at Destiny Islands, where everything stinks of sea-salt and sun, where Roxas is choking on the sand in the air. "This is Roxas, is it okay if he stays with us for a while?"
His mother looks from Sora to Roxas, to the weak grasp they have on each other, and she sees in her son's eyes that the question is merely a formality. She smiles the best smile she can - which is not really a smile at all, more a mere suggestion of the mouth turning up at the corners - as she tries not to cry what have you done and instead says of course, welcome home.
Sora's childhood bedroom is small and cramped. He lets go of Roxas' wrist, tells him to wait right here, and sets about gathering all the spare blankets and sheets and pillows he can. It's not pretty, the nest-like thing he makes on the floor, and he apologizes to Roxas. "We'll get you something better," he says, scratching at the back of his head at the mess he's made. "If you decide to stay here."
Roxas doesn’t say anything. He stares just to the left of Sora and nods his head, like words are precious currency and he's saving up for something big. Sora tugs at his wrist, leading him gently but firmly up the stairs, and wonders if this is what life will be like for the rest of forever: moving the rag doll that is Roxas around; pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit; tugging at unwilling hands to get him to stand, to walk; giving him a fork and instructions: eat; chew; no, slow down, Roxas, you have to swallow your food . He learns the Heimlich maneuver, learns to recognize the signs of Roxas shoveling in too much food too fast and how to stop him, force his mouth open and drag a finger across the roof of his mouth to dislodge the food compacted there.
This isn't how it's supposed to go , Sora finds himself thinking one afternoon. Roxas sits in a patch of sunlight, flexing his hand again and again like he's never seen the action before. The tendons on his wrist stand out as he traces the pattern of veins. Sora wonders if this was really the best, if this was fair for Roxas - or for Sora, who has to find someone to babysit when the call of the keyblade comes. Maybe they should have just left him inside Sora. Maybe they should have tried harder to let him reabsorb into the previous person.
He voices his concerns to Kairi. They had brought Roxas out to the beach, cautioning him to stay nearby; Sora wasn't sure if he could swim and didn't want to find out via witnessing a drowning. Roxas had tottered away from them, a strangled cry ripping from his throat before he collapsed to his knees on the sand, leaning his head back, mouth open to taste the sea. Sora’d thought he saw a tear track into his hairline, but hadn’t been sure and didn't want to interrupt whatever moment Roxas was having, so he’d started talking to Kairi in a low tone about his worries of whether this was right or fair. She listens, keeping a watchful eye on Roxas and not looking at him, until her mouth goes a little tight in the corners and she hums tunelessly and Sora thinks that's it, she's pissed - and he doesn't blame her, either. He's a little disgusted with himself. But when she finally speaks, it's not at all what he expected to hear.
"Do you remember the first time we left the islands?"
Like he could forget - but he doesn't say that, settles for nodding and focusing on Roxas because it's easier to keep his expression schooled if he just watches the boy who is not him taking deep gulping breaths of ocean air and weeping silently for something neither of them could understand.
"My heart was locked inside yours," Kairi continues, "but my body was lost. Everyone always assumed there was a total disconnect between the two, but the truth is I was conscious--"
Sora doesn't want to hear the rest of this, but doesn't know how to beg her to stop. He stares harder at Roxas, pictures the other boy as a shell - not empty, but with all the living parts hidden deep inside.
"--and Riku had to take care of me. It was hard and he wouldn't let any of Maleficent's people touch me, too afraid of what they might do. He had to feed me and wipe me down with a cloth and--"
"Kairi."
"I get it," she says, hurrying on. "I mean, I was on the other end, and some days it felt more like a dream, one where I couldn't focus - but I get how frustrating and difficult it can be to have to take care of someone like this." She reaches out for his hand, squeezing it briefly. "I don't talk about it because it's easier on everyone if we pretend I wasn't awake for it. But Riku did have to take care of me and I'm so grateful every day that he didn't give up. Don't give up on Roxas, not now."
After that, Sora makes a concentrated effort to shake Roxas back into himself. He has a long conversation with Lea - maybe out of desperation, maybe out of simple need to find someone who knew Roxas before . Sora’s not quite brave enough to meet his eyes, afraid Lea will look at him and Sora will see disgust reflected back. But Lea nods along, eyes focused on the sunset and ears focused on Sora's words.
"That sounds about right," Lea says, and Sora doesn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed that Lea hadn't bothered to mention the possibility earlier. "When Roxas first showed up he was out of it for a couple of weeks. We had to take turns babysitting him. It might be different for him - I was only ever a variation of myself, but he went from being you to being a whole different person and tried to go back and, well. Here he is again. That's a lot for a heart to handle."
Sora goes home that night and helps Roxas into his special chair in the shower (he’d had to buy it after Roxas had almost slid under the water taking a bath) washing the other boy's body clinically, detached. It had been awkward the first couple of times; he’d never been entirely comfortable with nudity, but it wasn’t like he could ask his mom to help him wash this stranger with her son's face. He’d thought about employing Riku, but the bathroom wasn't big enough for all three of them-- and besides, he thought he owed Roxas some level of dignity. Putting his nakedness on display like that felt too voyeuristic. So he’d been doing the best he could, laying a cloth over Roxas' lap and lathering him up with the nice soap from his mother's bathroom, like maybe smelling of lavender would make Roxas feel better.
Sora scrubs at Roxas' hair, tilts his head back so the suds won't run in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers over the spray of water. "I'll be more patient, I promise. Take your time. I'm here for you, even though I know it doesn't seem like I have been." Roxas only blinks and exhales a little sigh and shifts on the chair, but it’s the most motion he's done without aid since the day he came back into the world.
A new outcrop of heartless on a star far away and Sora has to scramble to find someone willing to sit with Roxas while he’s gone. His mother would always do in a pinch - but he worries about the way she still looks at Roxas, sidelong, mouth pressed into a firm line like she was having trouble wrapping her head around the idea of him. He couldn't really ask any of his friends on the island, either; they still had school and it would be hard enough explaining away Sora's disappearance without explaining why this strange boy was staying behind. Help comes in the unexpected form of Cid and Yuffie, descending from a gummi-ship and looking wildly out of place.
"Hiya!" Yuffie greets - with a little salute, like this is the most normal thing in the world, like she goes around on a regular basis breaking the laws of the universe for funsies… which, to be fair, there was a very good chance that she’d been doing exactly that just to spit in the face of anyone who told her she couldn't or shouldn't or wouldn't . This was Yuffie, after all. "Word’s out that you're in need of a sitter."
She dances around Sora, kicking up a spray of sand and complaining when more than a handful ends up in her boots, and he would have told her - if she had asked, or even warned him of a visit - that tall and tight boots were silly on the islands and she'd be picking sand out of her toes for weeks if she didn't wear something different but she hadn’t and now it's too late and he stands gobsmacked on the beach as she spins over to the half-catatonic form that is Roxas while Cid drops down from the ship, grumbling something about too old for this kind of shit and everything smells like fish .
Yuffie smiles at Roxas, though Roxas doesn’t seem to actually see her. "Hi, Roxas," she says - and her voice is so different from the loud, brassy sounds Sora has come to associate with her that he's momentarily thrown even further off kilter and feels the need to sit down. Yuffie ignores him.
"Is it okay if I hold your hand?" she asks the unresponsive Roxas, gives him a moment to answer... which he doesn't, not really, not verbally, but he does twitch a finger or two towards her. She takes his hand gently in hers, twining their fingers together like they're best friends - like the weird clamminess of Roxas' palm doesn't bother her in the least. She's the stillest Sora has ever seen her, not fidgeting or moving, all her attention and energy focused on Roxas, gently coaxing him along.
"You can come stay with us while Sora's busy," she says to Roxas - but also, in a way, to Sora. "A long time ago, our friend Cloud got hurt and needed some extra help. I was a lot littler back then, but I helped him how I could. I'll be more than happy to help you too."
Sora looks up at Cid. "I don't understand."
Cid shrugs, flicking cigarette ash onto the beach, and any other day Sora would be annoyed by that but he's still half mesmerized by the way Yuffie's body is curled towards Roxas, the way she handles him-- like he's precious and breakable, like she's done this a million times before.
"You heard the girl," Cid grumbles. "We went through this with Cloud, before we lost him to the darkness. Ain't nothin' none of us ain't dealt with before. We know you got important matters to deal with; he'll be in good hands til he comes back to himself."
Sora swallows, considers, watches. Yuffie presses fingers softly against the small of Roxas' back, gets him to move the direction she needs him to. She never lets go of his hand, talking to him like he's going to start talking back any minute now.
"What if he never comes back?" Sora's words are a whisper, a fear, a nightmare he's lived out every time he closes his eyes. "What if he's like this forever?"
Cid merely shrugs in response. "Then we'll deal with that when we get to it. Ain’t the kid's fault though, and ain't yours either, so stop looking like that." And as if this day wasn't surreal enough, Cid crouches down next to Sora, knees creaking in protest all the while. "Look, you did what you thought was best and fair and all that shit. Don't mean you gotta take the weight of all the worlds on your shoulders. Let us help."
"He has problems chewing," Sora finds himself saying. "The food has to be cut into little bites. He'll feed himself but you have to keep an eye on him or else he'll forget to swallow and choke." Cid nods, expression saying that he’s taking in all of Sora’s words and committing them to memory. "And he needs help bathing. He can go to the bathroom but you have to remind him or else he'll forget until it's too late and..." Sora swallows. "And… sometimes he needs help wiping."
The words are low, shameful - something Sora had learned the hard way in the first couple of days after the smell of shit had become sudden and overwhelming and he’d first had to try to change a boy who was a dead weight roughly his size and shape but uncooperative and mannequin-like. Sora had started keeping timers and wet wipes (to make it easier to clean up) and asking Roxas if he needed to go to the bathroom often, and there hadn't been many accidents since then.
"Don't worry, kid," Cid says, laying a callused palm on his shoulder. "He'll be in good hands."
It makes going out to face the writhing darkness a little easier, knowing that Roxas is safe and with people who, even if they don’t get him, at least won't judge him (and Sora tries to imagine Cloud, strong and sturdy (if tight on words) in this situation - he’d turned out okay, more or less, if one disregards the living darkness and constant nightmares but hey, Sora isn't far behind on those himself anymore.)
There's little change in Roxas, although he's generally less grubby under the careful guidance of Aerith and Cid and Leon - and even Yuffie, gods help them all. Some days when Sora is picking Roxas up, he considers - bone tired, and seeing the way Roxas is doing better under the care of these people who are all but strangers to him - he considers (if only ever for the span of a breath) asking them if Roxas could stay . They have the patience and the know-how and the fortitude to deal with this situation. Sora has too-forceful shoves, growls of come on while trying to dress two people in the morning - one of whom doesn't seem to want to wear pants ever , no matter what he does.
But he doesn't ask. If Roxas could speak for himself - if there was any indicator that he would prefer to stay in Radiant Garden - then Sora would be his voice in an instant. But while Roxas is outwardly cleaner and better kept, his eyes still stray away from everyone, focusing on the action of clenching and unclenching his hands; he is still a doll, being posed by others. So Sora continues to pick him up on his way back to... the Islands, because it doesn't really feel like home anymore, and Sora hates that as much as he hates the thoughts that call Roxas a burden. He has little to no hope of finishing high school at this point, doesn't know why he bothers going back… which is not entirely true. If he abandoned the islands, he'd be abandoning part of himself to the stars forever - and besides, the spare munny he collects on his trips helps pad out his mother's bank account. It's not much, but it makes him feel like he's contributing, especially when he can't really explain his absences; the least he can do is try to pay for room and board: just for him at first, but now for him and Roxas, whom his mother still looks at sidelong. Sora is beginning to think there will never be a day where she won’t seem ready to throw the other boy out - whether for the messes he doesn't mean to make or because she is unnerved by the shadow of her son in the lines of Roxas’ face, he isn’t sure. But the end result is the same.
It's a tenuous setup Sora has made, the constant stops at Radiant Garden on his way to other places - to much more dangerous places. He worries sometimes about what will happen when the darkness becomes too much, when he inevitably gets overpowered.
"If I can't come back for him," Sora finds himself saying, watching as the tiny fairies flit around Roxas' head, Rikku tugging his fingers and shouting up at him to c'mon silly! "If I can't come back - not because I don't want to, but because something happens to me - what will happen to him?"
Aerith smiles softly, as if she knows this question has been weighing on him - or perhaps it was something she had asked herself before. "He'll stay with us, of course. Until he doesn't need us anymore, or until someone he belongs with can come along to care for him instead."
Then, because the kindness in her voice is breaking down some of his defenses and he’s finding himself wanting to cry, Sora asks, "Did I do the right thing? Separating us? Is this kind of life fair to either of us?" And he does look her in the eyes, because Aerith is full of understanding and compassion and memories of another life.
"Everyone needs a place, Sora. It shouldn't be inside someone else." She squeezes his shoulder, wishes him well on his journey. He knows the conversation is closed, something settling in his heart that he hadn't even realized was in a flurry. Roxas is walking with Leon, who won't hold his hand like a child and talks to him in the same even tone he uses on everyone else. Sora takes in a breath, calls out a goodbye to Aerith and Leon and the fairies and to Roxas specifically, and goes to fight the darkness, to give the boy who is not quite a friend and not quite himself a chance to live whatever life they can eke out for him.
Sora sleeps deep and hard when he manages to catch sleep at all. He's found a delicate balance between school and being a keyblade wielder and taking care of Roxas. If he's tired more often than not... well, that's what caffeine is for, and it makes him appreciate the quiet moments more than he did just a handful of months before. It's roughly four a.m. when a voice breaks the silence of the bedroom he shares with Roxas. Just one word - his name - in a raspy voice floating up from the pallet of blankets and sheets on the floor, and he’s rolling out of bed, catching himself on an elbow so he doesn't squash Roxas beneath him.
"I'm here," he mumbles, still half asleep. He can't see - it's too dark in the room - and he reaches out blindly. "I'm right here, Roxas." He finds a shoulder, feels the shuddering breath Roxas gulps down, and pats his way to holding Roxas' hand.
"Sora?" Roxas asks again. His voice is hoarse and thick with disuse and there's a quiver running through it. He clutches at Sora's hand. "Am I real?"
Sora almost laughs, the feeling bubbling and shifting until he's biting back tears. "The realest. Feel that? That's me, squeezing your hand. You're here, Roxas. You're real."
Roxas has no such restraints. He rolls into Sora's arms and cries loudly, shaking and wailing, face pressing against Sora's neck. Sora can feel the tears pooling against his shoulder, but doesn't tell Roxas to be quiet, doesn't try to move him, just shifts so he's not digging into his own side with an elbow and settles his free hand to rubbing what he hopes is soothing circles against Roxas' shoulders, letting the other boy cry himself out. He deserves it and so much more.
After Roxas has settled into small hiccoughs and the emotions have stopped rolling over him so violently, he leans away, hand still clasped tightly in Sora's, and speaks to the dark ceiling.
"I felt my heart but I didn't want to go to it." His voice is steadier, closer to the boy Sora met inside his own heart. "I was so afraid this was all a lie again. I don't think I could handle it, if it was."
"It's not," Sora says quietly, and he means I'm sorry but Roxas doesn't know that, not yet. He'll learn in the days to come how to read Sora, but for now he only hears what is spoken. "You're here and you can do whatever you want and go wherever you want. Lea wanted you with him but he's been so busy and--" Sora swallows the words he doesn't quite know how to say: you needed so much watching . "So you've been staying with me. You're welcome… to stay, that is. Or you can go wherever you want... as long as you're happy."
There is silence, save for the unsteady breathing of two boys.
"Lea?" Roxas finally asks.
"Axel. Only he's not Axel anymore; it's weird and complicated and we kinda call him Axel a lot which he gets kind of pissy about but I think he's also kind of accepted it and--" Sora stops talking when Roxas yawns so wide his jaw pops. "I'm babbling, sorry. Get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning." Sora doesn’t move to crawl back to his own bed, shifts to pillow his head on his arm instead. It'll be asleep long before him but he's not ready to move away, not yet.
"Sora?"
His eyes have adjusted as much as they can to the darkness, and he can now make out the shape of Roxas, the very edges of him limned in the moonlight straining to reach through the window. He hums a noise back, letting Roxas know he has his attention.
"Sorry if I was a pain to care for."
"Sorry if I made you think you were."
"We'll talk in the morning?"
"Promise."
Roxas gives one more squeeze to Sora's hand and then he's out almost instantly. Sora stays where he is, pressed between his bed frame and the boy he pulled from his heart. He doesn't think he'll be able to go back to sleep, staring at Roxas’ familiar form and wondering where they go from here, but eventually, his eyes close without his permission and he settles in, forehead pressed to forehead, heart against heart, and they rest.