14.

The chess piece settled on the board with a pretentious click. Xehanort rolled his eyes at his opponent’s tenacity, threatening the newly placed piece with one of his own. “Check,” he breathed, politely hiding his annoyance from the boy he just met.

Xehanort found it strange that the dark-haired boy was so adamant about playing a game with someone he had just met. But for some reason, Xehanort couldn’t deny him, even if they were strangers. It wasn’t until the boy ran his mouth that he didn’t seem all too serious about chess and Xehanort hid his annoyance by running his hand through his silver hair, wondering why he'd even feign playing when it was obvious the boy just wanted some company and an ear to chew. 

The boy lifted his knee, settling his arm there. “Don’t look so confident. I can still fix this.” He tapped the shiny, metal chess piece against his lips before letting it hover between two squares without ever letting the piece touch the board.

Xehanort watched his opponent's bright, thoughtful eyes flicker between two options before lowering his gaze to the worried press of his pale lips. The boy was easy to read. “Remember, Eraqus, you won’t be able to take it back once you let go,” Xehanort warned, victory already within reach.

“Xehanort, right? Where are you from again?” The boy asked. He snuck a glance between loose strands of hair, sloppily forgotten by his hair tie, pretending they were still playing a game.

Xehanort huffed, patience thinning as he watched the indecision hover between two spaces that would land Eraqus in trouble. “I’m from a group of islands people call Destiny Islands.” He paused. “You’re not trying to distract me, are you?” 

The boy laughed, dropping his chess piece next to the board. “How’s travel like that even possible? Maybe there’s something about it in the library. How about you and me take a look?”

“We’re not done here!” Xehanort gestured to the chessboard, amusement and frustration simultaneously creeping along the lines of his face.

Eraqus moved his knee over the ledge, hitting the board just enough for the heavier pieces to topple over. “Ahaha, whoops!” He laughed, jumping off the ledge of the window where they perched and onto his feet.

“Hey!” Xehanort exclaimed. “Do you always run away when you’re losing?”

“Aw, sorry! It’s just a game anyways, right?” Eraqus stepped toward Xehanort. “Let’s go! Together!” He tugged on Xehanort’s wrist and something else within Xehanort.

Eraqus grinned the whole time. It was irritating.

It was hypnotising.

They left the chess pieces on the windowsill.

15.

Xehanort drew back his arm and cast his gaze upon the surrounding water's surface. It wasn’t too unlike what he remembered of his home, except there was no tide. No push or pull of waves. The Scala was completely undisturbed and the lack of current did little to sate Xehanort's growing curiosity. He wondered if other places like this existed.

He threw his arm forward, releasing the stone from his hand. It skipped across the surface once, twice, three times before it sank.

“My turn,” Eraqus mirrored Xehanort’s stance. He bit his tongue to steel himself. “What’s your record again?”

“Eight, I think.”

Eraqus threw his stone. It survived three times before it followed after the other sacrificed stones. His shoulders sank along with it. 

“You have to throw it at an angle,” Xehanort laughed. “Like this.” He took Eraqus’ arm and guided it through the air slowly. Eraqus let him. They had been friends for a while now, the touch was welcomed. Natural. Comfortable. “Let go when your arm reaches this point.”

“Now watch me,” he pointed to himself with a newly acquired stone.

Eraqus obediently watched Xehanort’s whole form as he cast his stone out to the sleeping waters.

It skipped with melodic plops against the quiet of the sleeping water and Xehanort held his breath in a silent prayer to no one in particular as he counted. Six. Seven. Ei-- the stone was knocked away by another. Xehanort whipped his head to the culprit.

“Why’d you do that?!” Xehanort shouted louder than he meant to, though that didn’t seem to disturb Eraqus at all. Xehanort could see the mischievous tug in his wide, heady grin.

“I just wanted to see if I could hit your stone. Turns out I can,” Eraqus said, simply.

“That’s not how you play,” Xehanort said, despite every part of him resigning to how very Eraqus this was.

“I decided to play a new game. And I hit yours, so I win--!”

Xehanort lunged at Eraqus, knocking him onto a patch of grass. They fell into a fit of giggles, tumbling over each other.

“Stop trying to run!” Xehanort managed to put Eraqus into a headlock.

Eraqus only responded with more giggles.

When their laughter sucked all their energy, Xehanort loosened his grip. But Eraqus stayed, leaned against Xehanort’s shoulder in silence. They lingered like that, residing in each other’s arms, looking out to the dead sea as the day withdrew, painting still waters with an array of warm colors as it took the light with it. And from behind, Xehanort could feel Eraqus smile.

“It feels bright,” Eraqus whispered.

“Feels bright?” Xehanort repeated.

“Yeah. Around you.”

Although he didn’t understand, it made Xehanort feel alive. He tightened his embrace until they were both comfortable.

16.

Xehanort swung at them first, but they deserved it. They kept jeering, but they weren’t so happy now, bleeding from their noses, bruises forming under their eyes. Xehanort managed to get in a few hits without the help of a Keyblade and something in his heart pulsed triumphantly.

“Xehanort!”

He heard the rush of footsteps before he felt a weight hit his body. "Eraqus?!"

Eraqus heaved, clutching Xehanort’s arms on both sides, ignoring the aggressors behind him.

“Don’t worry,” he huffed. “I can fix this.” Eraqus glanced back at the beaten boys, determination in his eyes. He stepped forward with clenched fists and stuck out his tongue in their direction before bolting off.

Xehanort didn't realize he was running too, dragged by the wrist.

“Hey! Let me go!”

“If I do that, we’ll get in trouble!” Eraqus replied between breaths.

“We? I’m the one who hit them.”

Eraqus had the gall to laugh.

They ran until their legs throbbed and their chests felt ready to burst, collapsing on a bench on the other side of the town, desperately seeking air and reprieve. 

“They were calling you a coward, you know,” Xehanort started, after the silence had grown thick. “That’s why I--”

“Hit them?” Eraqus’ smile was small today. Xehanort didn’t like that. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Bitterness and disbelief pulled Xehanort to his feet. “They don't know you like I do! But if we keep running away like that, they’ll never stop believing it.”

Eraqus' shoulders sagged, lifting his eyes lazily to meet Xehanort’s. “Do you believe it?”

The question caught him off guard, but he tried to sound confident anyways. “O-of course not."

“Then don't worry about it. Besides, running away is a strategy,” Eraqus forced a laugh before his eyes sank towards his feet. He hummed before jumping to his feet as well, catching the fronts of Xehanort’s coat in his fingers. He kept his voice low and his eyes to the ground, like he was afraid to look at Xehanort.

“Sometimes,” Eraqus continued. “When things are bad, it’s okay to run. As long as the darkness doesn’t reach your heart, it’s okay to run.” He knocked his fist against Xehanort’s chest, right above his heart.

“Fine,” Xehanort surrendered, putting his hand on Eraqus’ shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “It’s a strategy that I’m only willing to do with you.”

Eraqus’ lifted his gaze, smile growing. It made Xehanort’s smile grow, too.

17.

Urd…

Vor…

Hermod…

Bragi…

They were all gone. And it was his fault.

He could see their gravestones from atop the tower, neither the height nor the windows could hide them from his sight. They stuck out like little scars in the ground, scars that he carved himself. He curled alongside their memorials. Flowers didn’t seem like enough to ask for forgiveness. He offered them tears, too.

They knew of Death. Master Odin mentioned it often, teaching them-- warning them, threatening them-- as a part of the curriculum. They were taught how to avoid it, but not what to do when Death missed them and took someone else. 

Eraqus’ expression betrayed his words. No matter how many times Eraqus repeated, “It wasn’t your fault,” Xehanort heard the discordance between his words and his heart even behind tear soaked hands. Eraqus mourned too, Xehanort knew, but Eraqus wasn’t the one who got them killed.

Xehanort heard Eraqus say something, but couldn’t understand it-- his voice too airy, too far away even though he stayed beside Xehanort, flowers in both their hands. Eraqus spoke to Xehanort through gentle smiles, but Xehanort couldn’t understand how he could even fake a smile now. Xehanort ached, imagining losing that smile. Eraqus needed to grow up and think about this stuff. Xehanort wouldn’t be able to handle a 5th heartbreak.

“Not now, Eraqus!”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to help…” His voice was quiet.

Xehanort didn’t mean to make him quiet, but he couldn’t control his volume over the blood pulsing in his ears. “They’re DEAD. I KILLED them. And your stupid jokes can’t bring them back!”

“I-I know I can't,” Eraqus worried his fingers, struggling to keep his eyes locked onto Xehanort’s. “But I just wanted to--”

“To what?!” Xehanort couldn’t stop the words spilling out of his mouth as fast as the tears spilling from his face. “You’re so good at running away, either with your feet or these poor attempts at humor. Don’t you think that’s enough, Eraqus? You can’t run anymore! Grow up!”

Xehanort hadn’t realized how loud he was shouting nor how badly he had made Eraqus flinch. He could see that Eraqus, wide-eyed and dismayed, resisted the urge to take flight from whatever was building inside Xehanort’s heart.

Whatever it was, Eraqus was fearful of it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” Xehanort explained quietly now. 

An unfamiliar and uncomfortable quiet settled between them. Surely, that meant Eraqus would take off at any second, Xehanort thought. But he didn’t, which only made Xehanort more ashamed.

“I’d run if it meant I could take you with me,” Eraqus lowered his head. “So, I won’t run if you won’t.”

As they stood in silence facing one another, Xehanort sought Eraqus’ signature smile.

It never came back.

18.

Dry, barren land, much unlike the Scala, surrounded them. Strain had scared this planet, leaving behind used up dirt without any evidence of green life. It was unfamiliar to the both of them, but it somehow seemed appropriate for their ill-fated reunion.

They stared at each other, feeling colder than they’ve ever felt about each other. Colder than if they were just strangers.

Xehanort didn’t understand Eraqus’ aversion to the darkness. It didn’t make sense to fight against it when the worlds needed it as much as they needed light and the answers he sought existed in the pursuit of this χ-blade.

“Imagine what they’d think of you trying to start another war that would take countless lives! Just like theirs,” Eraqus lamented.

Xehanort failed to steel his resolve, the muscles in his face tensed with grief and disgrace. He could only scoff.

“It’s only going to bring ruin. Just forget about this and let’s go home,” Eraqus pleaded. His bright eyes now dulled with age and experience, tiresome bags forming beneath them carrying grief and weary. That was, Xehanort supposed, his fault too. He rolled his eyes at his opponent’s tenacity. 

When neither side gave an inch, they summoned their keyblades and struck out at each other. It felt just like another one of their spars, both refusing to truly strike the other and resolving on wearing the other down with the clash of metal and magic. Though they were both skilled, Xehanort’s prohibited travels gave him strength and abilities that Eraqus couldn’t begin to imagine.

They both knew this.

They moved around each other like one of their chess matches, trying to outpace and flank the other. Xehanort lifted his hand, energy pulsing through his fingers causing them to twitch. He threw out his hand and murky shadows palpitating with power burst from within him, surging toward Eraqus.

Eraqus had sensed darkness growing within Xehanort ever since they lost their friends, but he never imagined it would be like this. The whorling streams of complete blackness entangled Eraqus. Raw heat that radiated from it licked his skin. He hacked at the tendrils until they dissipated with the light that shone from his Keyblade. 

Xehanort prepared another sphere of pure darkness, running to close the gap between them and strike out with his keyblade in his other hand, which would force Eraqus to retreat backwards and allow Xehanort to escape into the barren wasteland.

Xehanort watched Eraqus’ once-bright, thoughtful eyes flicker between his options before he charged forward throwing his arm out as the sphere burst from his hand erupting at Eraqus’ feet. Xehanort brought down his blade with an embittered roar.

But something was wrong.

It connected with something soft instead of the nothingness he expected.

A splash of red showered the desolate land followed by the loudest sound Xehanort had ever heard: Eraqus hitting the ground. Hard.

I won’t run if you won’t.

“No!” Xehanort let his Keyblade drop into the aether, running to his friend’s side, hands hovering reluctantly above him. Eraqus stirred beneath him, struggling to push himself up with one hand holding his face, blood spewing between his fingertips.

Xehanort fell back, away from Eraqus as he threw his hand to his mouth to suppress an inhuman whine. Xehanort's own face contorted with guilt and grief. "You were supposed to run!” His screams breached through his fingers, tears pouring from his eyes. “Why didn't you run?! You always run!"

I killed them.

Eraqus’ whole body shook, from pain or emotion, Xehanort didn’t know. "Not from you. Never from you," Eraqus whimpered as he lifted his head and smiled.

Xehanort sobbed through his hands, his wails raw in his throat, upon seeing that smile now bloodied. He hadn’t seen that smile in a long time.

“We can still fix this,” Eraqus reached out to him. “You won’t be able to take it back once you let go, remember? So please, let’s go home. Together.” His hand shook in the air, fingers curling, asking to be rejoined with his dearest friend’s.

He wanted to be held.

It hurt so much.

“I’m sorry,” Xehanort shook his head, denying Eraqus the comfort he needed and deserved.

Eraqus started to cry too, refusing to drop his hand as his tears mixed with the blood on his face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Xehanort repeated, running into the wasteland.