He was sitting on my bed when I finally made my way there after dawn. His eyes were closed and he looked more peaceful than I’d seen him in weeks.
“Even,” I said quietly. His body shifted slightly, straightening, before he opened his eyes.
“It was too cold to sleep in my room,” he answered, and I imagined I heard alone hanging unsaid after it. I nodded and began to disrobe, rehashing the day’s research as he did the same. I sat on the bed and slid between the sheets, moving aside to be sure Even had room.
When he slipped beside me his skin was cool to the touch, almost freezing, and he pulled away from me immediately.
“You’re so warm. No, not even warm, hot. Do you have a fever, Xehanort?” There was naked concern in his voice, he didn’t realize that it was he who…
“I’m fine, Even. How long have you been like this?”
He stared at me, then, and turned away. “It’s been… I’ve been so careful. I thought I could avoid it. I suppose I should go.” Even started to stand up. I want to stay. Whispers I thought I must be imagining.
Why was it easier to think myself insane, for all of us to think of illness instead of enlightenment? It’s fear, just fear, and human nature.
Stay, I whispered, watching the shadows curl around his neck and ears. Even froze in his steps and turned to look at me. His eyes were wide and I felt fear in him. I reached out and my arms didn’t reach him, but my shadow did, pulling him closer.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he choked aloud.
“What sort of man would I be if I turned you out because you helped me.” They must have been the right words, because he relaxed, nearly collapsing into my arms. He was hesitant, but I wrapped him in the down quilt and in myself and my shadow. It was almost painful, to hold him like that.
Even laid his head on my chest and spoke quietly. “I can hardly hear your heart.” His eyes were closed. He didn’t seem bothered by this in the least. I didn’t answer, and his breathing eventually shallowed as he fell asleep.
Unable to sleep myself, I stared at the ceiling and stroked Even’s hair. I was waiting, though at first I didn’t realize why.
Ansem? When shadows spoke, they never hesitated at his name. This is– I feel it.
It’s all right. There was a quick brush of air, and then the weight on my chest was gone like it had never been there.
