what everyone else believes - axel(lea)-centric fic
HEY!! WHO ELSE HAS BEEN LISTENING TOÂ âDONâT THINK TWICEâ ALL DAY ON LOOP!!!!
Because of t/umblr doomsday Iâll be moving all my fic over to my AO3 account â here
Title: what everyone else believes
Pairings: gen (but akuroku if you squint but not rly)
Rating: G
Summary: Leaâs only crying because he never dreamed itâd last this long.
Notes: Summary inspired by âDonât Think Twiceâ lyrics of course. Playlist for this is âDonât Think Twiceâ + âčżăâ (Utada Hikaru) and â15ăŽĺ¤â (Yutaka Ozaki). Lyrics + Translation for â15ăŽĺ¤â â here
If Lea had known that having a heart felt like a flower blossoming in his chest every day or like a seashell where you could hear the ocean crashing.
If Lea had knownâ
He writes it all down in the empty pages of Roxasâs old diary until there arenât any empty pages left, and when that happens he gets a new journal and another one and another. For every day that passes that Roxas - Roxas and a girl - arenât there, he writes things down so he doesnât forget the feeling of it all.
Because so many years ago heâd had a heart. And then he didnât. And now he does. And whoâs to say that wonât change again ten years from now, ten months from now, ten days from now, tomorrow, tonightâ
There are other journals, too, where Axel - Lea - ripped pages out. Theyâre just notebooks with their guts burned to a crisp, edges just left, loud when you listen and sharp when you look but brittle when you touch.
Theyâre filled with angry feelings and the sad things and the dark things heâd thought wouldâve gone away with having a heart. But, theyâre there, theyâre almost amplified, they almost eat away at him but thenâ
But, then, Kairi smiles. And Sora yells. And Riku laughs in his quiet, oddly shy way.
And those things wash away those feelings like a wave over writing in the sand. And Lea still hasnât been to the beach he canât, not untilâ
Sora turns to him, feels him watching and heâs caught, afraid he'll be called out, embarrassed that everyoneâs looking now, too.
âSoon,â he says. Soon. It was the first promise Sora made and Lea had doubted him at first. But, he knows that boy has the power, the heart, to make the impossible come true.
After all, Roxas had come from his heart, and if thereâs one thing that Axel - Lea - is 100 percent sure of, itâs that Roxas with his strong, lithe hands had changed Leaâs world just as easily and stubbornly as Sora has done for all the worlds across this galaxy and the next.
He wonders if everyone feels like they have a stone in their chest, or if it's just him. Wonders if everyone has trouble getting out of bed in the morning under the weight of it all. Wonders if one day, it'll all just come easier and he won't have to hide the way he drags his feet some days, when the emptiness at his sides is just too heavy.
Late at night, Axel - Lea - mulls over the idea of apologizing to Sora. Bygone things. But, given the opportunity - he's almost ashamed at how he isn't ashamed - Lea wouldâve sacrificed him just to see Roxas again. Wouldâve given all this up. Just for a boy. And a girl.
Early in the morning, when the dawn creeps in, all blue and white and gray and none of the sunset red-orange-yellow he knows, Lea realizes. Sora would say, âYou couldâve. But you didnât.â
He could've. But he didn't.
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AWAKEN, MY LOVE! - ensemble KH fic
whoa long time no see lmaaooo so how about that new trailer?!
x-posted to ao3
Title: AWAKEN, MY LOVE!
Pairings: heavily implied Vanitas/Ventus, Replica!Riku/Namine, Axel(Lea)/Roxas, Riku/Sora
Rating: G
Summary:Â Everything is changing.
In which a new feeling awakens in five different people. In other words, inner demons are born or theyâre laid to rest.
Notes:Â some heavy (?) spoilers for Tokyo 2018 D23 Expo KH3 trailers. lots of reference to Utada's (!!!!) new song, "Don't Think Twice" - I listened to it on repeat while writing this lmao - and title from Childish Gambino's album because I really liked the theme of waking up to a new world or waking up from a bad dream or waking up with someone you love, etc. etc.
Vanitas
Thereâs a thrumming in his veins and he doesnât know where he is, just knows time has passed and it almost pains him that he hasnât felt the ache of it all...except it doesnât - pain him, that is.
And when the boy - Ventus - says his nameâ
Ventus was the only one who could every say his name and make him feel something, but hereâs this boy with brown hair and a more confident posture. Vanitas doesnât get it. But, then he does, when those same blue-flame eyes turn to him, burn into him.
âVanitas,â the boy says, and he looks surprised, but no, the boy canât fool him. Heâs found him.
I got you, his veins sing. I caught you. I played your hide-and-seek, I counted to ten - ten long years - and I found you. Ventus, his veins sing. His heart hasnât beat, hasnât pumped blood since the day he was born, what a curious thing because he still bleeds, still thinks he should bleed, but here he is. Here they are.
Vanitas comes alive, feels like heâs born again - not from darkness, but really, truly born again. He hasnât heard that voice say that name, and suddenly the nothing in him isnât so empty anymore.
He takes a step toward the boy.
He didnât know it til now, but heâs wanted this for a lifetime.
Demyx
Itâs kind of like falling asleep in the summer - dying. If it could even be called that. He was in a cold castle. Now, he isnât. Heâs floating, and itâs warm, and suddenly he isnât - floating, that is.
He doesnât know how much time has passed when he wakes up, but itâs bright, just like the castle but also not. Itâs warm, though. He feels it on his skin.
He knows his name. Heâs himself again, and he can feel the others. He doesnât know how, but maybeâ maybe thatâs what comes of a heart, settling heavy in oneâs chest.
He knows his name, but he doesnât know what they will call him. He doesnât know which one heâll prefer.
He gets up from the dirt, brushes the leaves and grass from his clothes. Shakes them out of his hair. He hasnât felt the happiness well up in him like a spring, not like this, in so long. Too long.
When he holds out his hand, the familiar weight and curve of his sitar materializes from the water in the air. It looksâ different. From before. At least it isnât that preposterously phallic shape anymore. Itâs firm and itâs solid, just like the beating in his heart and the thrumming in his veins.
He can hear Marluxia calling for them. He isnât sure what to call him, either, or the others when he greets them. But, he guesses, it will be nice to reintroduce themselves to each other. There will be something familiar yet refreshing about it.
He steps out from the trees, fingers lingering on the flowers and vines as he gently pushes them out of his way. And, he grins. His chest is sore, but, he thinks, everything is just right.
Riku, But Not
He didnât know he could dream. He didnât know he could even fall asleep. But, he did. And he wonders where NaminĂŠ is - thatâs his first thought. And his second, and his third. His fourth, though, is why the castle feels so empty, and his fifth, is why he knows that it is.
Riku - but not, his replica memory reminds him - walks the halls of the empty castle, climbs the stairs to the topmost room.
All he finds are three empty pods, like the one heâd woken up in, and a table with scattered pencils and unfinished drawings. She would have been a fool to stay, but heâd hoped she wouldâve been a fool to wait for him.
He picks one of the pictures up, and his fingers caress the edges of it. He feels aged all of a sudden. But, when he looks into a mirror, he looks the same as the day he was born. Created, maybe, is a better word.
Does it count, not-Riku wonders, when youâve been in places where time doesnât move but your heart does? His heart aches and ages with every memory, even the ones heâs forgotten, even the bad ones, the made-up ones. The good ones, too, but he doesnât even have the laugh lines to show for it.
Does it count, not-Riku wonders, if neither of them have hearts?
Dreams are a sign that time is moving forward. And he dreamt. He knows he did. Not-Riku - he really has to come up with a new name for himself, he thinks. It will be the first thing he will give himself - folds the drawing up and carefully tucks it into his shirt, right by where his heart should be. This can be his new heart. Sheâs all the everything he ever dreamed of.
Just like that, he runs out of the castle at full-speed, runs through all the white rooms and down the endless staircases. Like a bat out of hell. Fitting, he thinks. This was hell.
If there had been windows, he would have jumped right out of them instead.
Axelâ I mean, Lea
Itâs only training, but Leaâs addicted to this feeling. Fighting. Heâs addicted to all of his feelings, now.
Heâd thought he was already fire incarnate, flames licking up his skin, his bones, and warming him to the core. Anger turned to wrath, sadness turned to regret, love turned to bitter passion.
But, compared to thisâ Axel doesnât know how he ever thought any of that was fire. That was cold, that was nothing. He was nothing. Not anymore, though.
Heâd always felt something whenever he looked into Roxasâs eyes (Roxasâs, not Soraâs, because Soraâs blues donât have the same kind of hardness, same kind of sharpness, that broke right through Axelâs armor of arrogant taunts. Soraâs eyes are sky blue, but Roxasâs, oh, they were sea salty blue). That feeling, though, that something left the same time Roxas abandoned the Organization.
But, with his heart back, Lea feels that same warmth every goddamn living, breathing, heart-beating day of his life. He feels it when he sleeps, muted, in his dreams, and it comes crashing down on him like a wave when he wakes and he drowns in it, douses his flames in it. And, like gasoline, it ignites everything in him.
He doesnât know how he ever confused before to these true, burning, blazing flames.
Sweat trickles down his temple, and he wipes it off with the back of his hand. He smirks, then, and makes a beckoning motion with his free hand, his other hand stretched out behind him, keyblade pointing forward.
How did he ever live, Lea wonders, in that kingdom full of thieves?
Maybe, he realizes, maybe itâs because Roxas had never been one of those people.
Sora
Sometimes, Sora lies awake at night, wondering, if he wouldâve grabbed Rikuâs hand, would they all be the same? Sometimes, Sora blames himself, thinking he couldâve reached Riku in time, but he didnât because heâd hesitated. Pretended he couldnât, because he was terrified. Because heâd been selfish.
And, maybe, Riku had known. Maybe, thatâs the reason heâd turned to dragons and shadows, dark corners and lonely whispers.
But, then, Sora thinks, no, he wouldnât have broken Rikuâs heart, not if he could have helped it. But, he was young and vulnerable, and he had - broken Rikuâs heart, that is - several times over.
Itâs ironic that Sora was the one whoâd lost his heart in everything. Itâs ironic that Sora was the one whoâd hold the pieces and pieces of everyone elseâs hearts. The small boy from the beach, whose play island was big enough already.
If Riku had been okay with staying, then Sora would never have looked to horizon, never would have wanted to follow his best friend beyond it.
Heâs filled to the brim with all these other hearts, all these other feelings, and sometimes, heâs too much of himself or he isnât enough. Sometimes, he has to remind himselfâ Iâm Sora.
There are other people here, but Iâm. Sora. S-O-R-A, Sora.
Sometimes, no amount of wishing can remind him. Sometimes, he wakes up, and he doesnât have any of the letters that make up his name resting on the tip of his tongue. Thereâs just one name he knows, one name he alwaysâ
Riku, he gasps, some mornings.
And, Riku will call for him, in the stillness of the golden light, dust motes floating lazily in the air. One arm thrown over his face, the other thrown over Soraâs chest.
Riku will call him, will say Sora, just like heâd done on their little island. Just as heâd called over his shoulder when theyâd race to the light-up tree for the paopu, when heâd taunt him and they still fought with wooden swords that they could toss to the sand when they were finished playing pretend.
âSora,â Riku says, voice laced with sleep. Itâs practically a grumble, and Sora feels it vibrating from his best friendâs chest. âGo back to sleep.â
Sora laughs then, and he knows Rikuâs smiling now, too, knows it like he knows the constellations of pale freckles on Rikuâs shoulders.
He pushes himself deeper against Rikuâs chest, and Riku opens his arms to let him in. Heâll always let Sora in, at the end of the world and at the beginning of it, too.
I want you for a lifetime.
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