He awoke to the sound of thunder.
      Blue eyes shot open as his heart raced in his chest. Forcing himself to wake up, Ventus grew aware that he was sitting on what appeared to be a throne—or what was left of it. Part of the backrest was destroyed, crumbled from one corner to the middle. The armrests had withered, fragments of what it once was from its prime days. As he looked around, Ventus realized he was sitting in a large room with broken stained windows all around him. Bits of light managed to find their way in, only enough to cast dim shadows around him, but not completely enough to brighten up the room.

Where am I?
What am I doing here?

      Turning his head to the broken windows, he can see the rain pouring in. Thunder roared, the winds howled.
      He didn’t understand. He tried to move his fingers, tried to move his legs. It felt like every part of his body was lead. Ventus tried to take in a deep breath, only to choke on air. Why did everything feel so suffocating? But Ventus was stubborn. There was a desperate desire inside of him to move. To do something instead of just sitting here.

Why can’t I move?

      Then darkness suddenly blanketed his vision and a honeyed voice whispered in his ear, “Sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”
      He felt arms wrap around him from behind just as he fell into slumber once more.
      The next time he opened his eyes, there was still rain, but the thunder had ceased. It was damper than it was before from the storm, enough to make his clothes stick to his skin in an unpleasant way. Ventus found that he could move this time. Fingers twitched; limbs shifted—it was as if the lead from before had finally lifted. He forced himself to move, ignoring the aching in his muscles as he did so. Ventus felt free in the same way that he didn’t. Despite the freedom he now possessed, Ventus felt suffocated.
      He wasn’t sure if it was because of the weather outside or something else. 
      Still, Ventus moved.
      It got tiring quickly trying to walk. When was the last time he walked? It confused him, but he shoved it aside in favor of getting out of this room. Despite its broken walls, the drops of rain sprinkling in from shattered windows, the room itself looked okay. The doors that were waiting for him just ahead of him seemed surprisingly intact for a building slowly becoming decrepit. It promised freedom, an escape to this room he seemed to be trapped in. After what seemed like agonizing years, but only mere minutes had passed. Ventus finally reached the doors. As he touched the doorknob, a strange sense of familiarity overcame him.

“Still sleeping, Venty-wenty? I thought you knew better by now.”

“I’m not sleeping!”

“Uh huh, whatever you say.”

Any other protests died when lips claimed his.

      Ventus shook his head before jumping when a flash of lightning sparked nearby. A glance out of the window and then he finally pushed the doors open. It made a creaking sound, one that sent chills down his spine and his skin prickling up with goosebumps. Holding back a grimace, he forced the doors open and he was greeted with the same eeriness that haunted this room he was stuck in. As he walked down the hall, Ventus took a look around. There were cracks on plaster, cobwebs formed in the corners of the ceiling. Even the paint had begun to fade.

What is this place?

What happened here?

      “You’re awake.”
      The new (but familiar) voice had him jerking in surprise, eyes widening. Ahead of him stood another young man. Maybe around his age? His hair seemed to blend in with the shadows, but his eyes stood out. Blazing gold. It reminded him of the gold inside a flame desperately burning.
      He didn’t know him.

(Do I?)

      His heart ached at the sight of him. It had him standing still as the other man finally began to walk over to him. Each step echoed in these damaged halls, barely muffling the sound of rain outside. Each step seemed to steal the breath out of his lungs, making it almost unbearable to breathe. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. There was something about him that had his entire body aching for him in the same way that it seemed to be frightened of him. All Ventus could do was stand there until finally, finally, this stranger was standing an arm’s length away from him.
      “Ventus.”
      Ventus blinked at him, stunned by the familiarity—the longing—in the other’s tone.
      “Do you…know me…?”
      The young man didn’t react. His expression flickered, growing sad for a second, before it changed. “…Yes. I’m Vanitas.” A tilt of his head before Vanitas smiled. “Looks like we’re stuck in this place together.”

      The thing about being trapped in a building together, Ventus thought, was how it forced people to get to know each other. Giving into the strange desire to get to know him, Ventus mustered up the courage to ask him to join him on his search around the building, which he readily agreed to. It was almost funny, really. Vanitas spoke to him with the ease of familiarity whereas Ventus was hesitant, unsure of how to react at times. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he nearly imagined their roles being reversed.
      Vanitas with a scowl on his face, golden eyes dark with a viciousness that seemed eager to have a reason to lash out.
      “Still trying to play nice, Venty-Wenty?”
      The forced closeness between the two did something to Ventus. His heart ached and twisted. It yearned for that familiarity. It made him almost reach out once or twice to reach out for his hand just to hold. Ventus would also notice how Vanitas watched him at times as they scavenged through some rooms. Most were a mess like the hallways, others were a bit more salvageable. Despite his unease, he spoke, trying to fill the silence between them.
      Vanitas knew him. That was what he said. Ventus knew he didn’t have any reason to lie. He didn’t even think he was lying. But there was just something about him that made Ventus wonder.

What is our relationship?

      Why were the two of them stuck in this space, barren of other life? Why were the two of them here instead of outside of these walls that were so aching familiar, but not, at the same time?
      “You seem deep in thought.”
      Ventus lifted his eyes from the wooden door down the hallway in order to look at Vanitas. The other man was going through their current finds as they sat in a library, cross-legged on the book-ridden floor. It had been a pain to find room given the endless sea of torn pages that littered the floor, but neither of them wanted to backtrack to the throne room that Ventus had been sleeping in. In a way, the library felt like a safe space. Neutral compared to the other rooms in this castle. There were still so many rooms to explore, secrets to uncover. Trying to leave was futile. The front doors wouldn’t open no matter how much they pushed and kicked and the windows—every time they shattered, it would return to its broken, but intact, state. A prison. A home.
      (He felt like he was missing something. An important piece of the puzzle. He was here with Vanitas. His heart shouldn’t soar as much as it did.)
      “I was just thinking about what you said,” Ventus finally said, “about how we know each other.”
      At that, Vanitas paused. Golden eyes lifted from the old blankets tearing
apart at the seams. Their gaze shifted to him. “Oh?”
      Ventus nodded slowly. “What…kind of relationship did we have?”

What kind of bond connects us so deeply that Vanitas is here with me in this godforsaken place?

What ties us together that we’re both here in this same room, at the same time?

      A tilt of his head and then those golden eyes returned to the blanket. “…We’re close. More than close. You could almost say we’re two halves of the same soul.”
      “It sounds…poetic.”
      Vanitas chuckled and this time, he finally let go of the blanket. In a swift, smooth movement that had Ventus briefly think of a cat, the other man was on top of him, and he was pushed down among the scattered pages that surrounded them. He felt like he should be scared of this. Being pushed down with the other man atop of him.
      He remained still as Vanitas seemed to examine him.
      Then those lips quirked. “It’s true. You don’t remember, but that’s fine. You’re not supposed to remember yet.”
      “What do you—”
      Lips claimed his and Ventus stilled. Familiar. So, so achingly familiar. Like half of his heart was returning to him. A piece of the puzzle forcibly slotting itself back into its rightful place before it was forced away.

      There were two of them on a barren battlefield. The others were gone, leaving them alone in this place.
      A soft, shuddering sigh. Teary blue eyes opened, being greeted with enraged golden ones in front of him. He smiled. “It’s okay…”
      “It’s not,” the other boy choked out, gripping him tightly. “How is this supposed to be okay?”
      “It is. It’s alright. I love–”

      He opened his eyes. Faintly, he can hear the sound of rain outside, a gentle beat on the windows that almost lulled him back to sleep. His eyes drooped, feeling that pull to sleep once more tugging at him.

Why am I so tired?

      Then he felt it. A hand cupping his cheek, enough to stir him from the fatigue that seemed to overtake him. Lifting his eyes, he was greeted with golden eyes and a smile. A thumb caressed his cheek.
      “It’s okay, Ventus,” the dark-haired man crooned at him. It had Ventus murmuring something under his breath, head turning more into that hand, wanting to feel more of that gentle touch. He felt so safe here with this person. (With Vanitas). Just in this place with this man whom he knew wouldn’t hurt him. It was okay. He was okay. He knew he would not be hurt while he was here. “I’ll wake you up when you’re ready.”
      Ventus closed his eyes.

      Vanitas watched the love of his life—the light of his heart—fall back into slumber. He continued to keep his eyes on him, ignoring the ghostly moans that echoed in the halls of this ruined castle. Ignored the wailing of the winds or the slamming of beaten doors in abandoned hallways. No, he was focused on this boy in front of him. The same boy he had risked everything for, even if it meant becoming trapped in this purgatory.
He felt their hearts beat in sync. A sound that cemented the connection between them, comforting him slightly.

Ventus was here. He hadn’t become lost yet.

      Leaning down, Vanitas pressed his lips against Ventus’ forehead even as his eyes began to glow. He would need to hide Ventus’ heart deeper, continue preventing his body from waking up when there was still so much risk. The old man was still out there. Those people he called friends were still looking for him. If Vanitas wanted to protect this boy, he needed to hide him so deep into the shadows that no one could find him.