O-Hey! Chii here~ In celebration of RokuSora day today, I bring you a songfic threeshot! This idea came to me randomly, so it's still in its primal form. Here's to hoping I'm able to craft it well along the way~

The Sky on the Sand

Summary: "If the sky could dream... it would dream of falling in love."

Nature-loving Roxas takes a walk at the beach one day and is drawn by a mysterious set of letters written on the sand. Who has been writing it and why won't it fade away? And this Sora... Can a romance bloom between a boy who's got his eye on the world, and another who sees the world through his azure eyes? RoxasxSora day three-shot fic, shounen-ai.

The summer air is warm, albeit comforting, one day on a five-thirty afternoon.

Birds of variated species glide across the sapphire sky, cawing noisily to their friends as they migrate for shelter. The blonde is alone. The people around him begin to pack for the day — swimsuits lazily stuffed in plastic bags, ready to retire.

Roxas watches the waves wash over tainted sand; the once visible set of footprints in front of him fading into a dampened slate of perfection. He looks back. A light smile graces his face in admiration of the unblemished shore. It's like he was never even there. No footprints. No tire tracks. No crumbled ruins of kids' sandcastles. Just the melodious whispers of the wind, with an alto of bird calls joining in. It's one of the main reasons why Roxas prefers visiting the beach at this hour. The environment itself is calming... soothing... utterly and perfectly natural.

Roxas has always loved nature. Time and time again he would admire the sunrise from outside his window — it fascinates him; the burst of yellow-red light, desperately climbing up the sky to illuminate every corner of the world. The sunset is just as beautiful — to witness the gradual decrease of the same light they rely on... to see it bleed into the navy blue night is one of the most spectacular things he's ever seen. Whenever he and his family go travelling, he'd be the one ushering them into nature reserves and botanical gardens. It was just, you could say, in his nature, to be one with the environment.

So while the other teenagers around him would rather bury themselves in the mind filth of their technological devices, Roxas will be outside; loving the up and downs of the landscape... loving the gentle and audacious dance of the frigid sea... loving the sky; from its rainy tears to its shining smile, and everything about the world that makes it beautiful.

My life is brilliant.

"Hello, Roxas speaking." After much fumbling with the phone in his pocket, he finally presses it to his ear and addresses the other on the line. It's Axel, one of his best friends. They're supposed to hang out at the redhead's house the following day, and the guy's decided to call to confirm it.

Roxas listens to the teen babble nonsense while he continues his beach walk. Something about the girls Axel's met and flirted with that summer if he's hearing it correctly. The guy's a hopeless romantic, and Roxas can't help but feel sorry for his friend's futile attempts at getting a girlfriend.

"They all think I'm too much, you know. Too... intense. What does that even mean? Is it my hair or my eyes? Heck, I'd even dye it brown and flatten it or something!"

The sun's quite close to setting, so Roxas stops in his tracks, glancing over the distant horizon. "It means that you probably should give yourself a break, Ax. Too much heart pain destroys the soul. Take Demyx for example. He's about as chill with romance as an undisturbed lake would be calm."

"Of course you have to compare everything to nature." He hears a grunt from the other side of the line. "I just want someone to love, y'know? And no, don't tell me to go for that flower-loving Marluxia. I swear, she's got issues. And what's up with the low voice? Not my material."

"Hmmm..."

Axel does this weird "click" sound with his mouth over the phone, and even now Roxas still doesn't understand what it's meant to be. "Well, at least we have video games. Happy, happy video games." he cackles. "Anywayyyy~ how's your love life been hanging on this summer? Got a girl I'm supposed to know about? What about that chick Xion from media? She's pretty rad."

The blonde snorts. "I'd prefer to be alone, thank you very much. When she comes into my life, then she comes into my life." he says. "I'll worry about it at the time."

"You aromantic fool."

The insult's weak, but Roxas gets it. He returns one of his own before they're both bantering over the phone like they usual do. The cerulean-eyed teen soon resumes his trekking across the beach, the icy waves occasionally reaching the edge of his slippers. "Well, talk to you later. I'm about to go home so..."

"Yeah... See ya then, Rox." Axel replies. "Try not to be so introverted, bro. You never know who you might run into."

"Tch. Whatever, Axel."

A click later and Roxas sighs. His friend worried too much about love and romance. The entirety of his own summer had been spent exploring the world's wonders from within his neighbourhood (maybe a few video games here and there as well) and the occasional day outs with his family; there wasn't enough time in his hands to spend finding someone he didn't, well, need to have at the moment. If he thinks hard about it, Roxas had never actually been with anyone. Not that it mattered too much.

The squawking of seagulls rouses Roxas from his thoughts as a few of them crowd around something just ahead of him. He blinks. With curious steps, he approaches their territory — it's a known fact to all that crowding seagulls meant something to eat is around, but there's no one at the beach to feed them but him.

When he sees what the birds are pecking at — a few clumps of lined up seaweed, apparently — Roxas also notices something else. There is a word written on the shore.

Letters meticulously etched on the perfect sand, marring its beauty. It's not the word itself that piques Roxas' interest, but the struggle the waves have to take to wash off what's not meant to be there. Two letters. Two letters still remain, danked in saltwater.

R. A.

How odd...

The sun begins to ebb from the now blushing sky, making way for night to come. It's enough to urge Roxas to walk back home. It's not until his twin calls him to dinner the moment he walked in that he realizes just how late he's stayed out today.

My life... is brilliant.

The second time Roxas comes across the fairly similar writing on the sand is days later — his brother Ventus is with him this time. The clouds are out today. A stronger tang of salt rides the breeze, a tickle to the nose.

"Oi, Roxas! Wait up, dude!" Ven calls, panting as though he'd run a ten-mile marathon. Some of the locals decide to pass their time at the beach as they cycle along the shore or engage themselves in a game of tag with their pets.

Roxas turns around and shakes his head. "Geez, I've been walking this whole time. How could you be so tired?" he laughs.

"I... just..." Pausing to breathe, Ven stands up straight. "I d-don't like w-walking, okay? I'm not like you. How can... you walk so fast...?"

"Well, you didn't have to come with me. You know I actually do this for fun."

"Yeah... I know." Roxas' twin shrugs. "It's just you hardly stay at home and we haven't hanged out much..."

Ventus notices the younger blonde stare at something in the distance and inquisitively furrows his eyebrows. His brother's doing that distracted, far-off expression again, and whenever he does so, it's either he's too caught up with his thoughts or there's something else that's got his attention, making it almost impossible to communicate with him. "What's got your eye, Rox?" he questions.

"Hmm? Oh, umm, there's just this thing..."

The teen strides not too far from where they stood, stopping in front a familiar handful of laid out seaweed. It's the same enigmatic writing — albeit smaller... more slanted... and imperfect. This time around, there's an extra letter present to spell the mysterious word, the waves around him ever-so-determined to sculpt the sand back to its immaculacy.

O. R. A...

"That is so weird..." Roxas tells himself out loud. He combs a hand through his flaxen locks out of disbelief whilst he shakes his head, clearly in awe.

Ven catches up to him eventually, a little confused. "What's up?" Tracing Rox's line of sight, the boy earnestly wonders what his twin finds so interesting about what they're looking at.

"Don't you think that's weird, Ven? It refuses to fade away... I've been on many beach walks and have watched random traces on the sand get washed up but this is the first I've seen to stay as it is for as long as it has. I wonder what the whole thing says..."

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about." his brother says. "All I see is plain sand and some lined up seaweed."

"What...?"

He doesn't know if Ven's mocking him because those very letters stand proud, visible against the earth, the "O" a little lopsided but visually prominent. Then again, he must be seeing things. Whoever heard of a resilient, non-fading word on the sand? Utterly ridiculous, if he thinks so himself.

Despite this, Roxas is sure that it is there.

Whatever it is.

Whatever it says.

I saw an angel... of that, I'm sure.

Sora.

The mysterious word on the ground is "Sora", or so Roxas believes the third time he sees it. It's five o'clock in the afternoon and the irritating screams of children playing pierce the usual calm atmosphere of the boy's frequent beach walks.

There is a pair of barely fresh footprints leading outwards from the writing on the sand — small, almost his size but thinner and leaner. Like the word, they cling onto the sand adamantly, retaining their original figures. Untouchable. Nonerasable. Everlasting.

Roxas looks around. He follows the footprints with a cerulean gaze before it ends as though one had just upped and vanished at their very spot. They're rather easy to follow from their origin, as everything flawed around it dissipates into the sand with the weeding out of the waves. If only he could meet the person centering this peculiar mystery. Sora, huh.

How does the sky bring meaning to this individual?

After many of his attempts, the blonde can conclude there's a certain time the writing appears on the sand. He once visited the beachside early morning, only to be greeted with the high tide and an orchestra of reconning seagulls. After lunch met him with similar results — mothers yelling concerned commands at their mischievous children and beach volleyball players... everywhere. It's not until four-thirty hits that the blonde sees it in the sand with its recurring side clump of seaweed, as whole as it should be.

"Sora..." it reads, the handwriting very legible today.

He eyes it fondly, kneeling, tracing it in the air with a finger. It's still there. The water's barely reached the first letter before it's pulling back again, crashing onto the sand vehemently. Roxas decides to test a theory — if he writes something, would it fade away like it should, or would it stay like the word he's been interested in? He scoots closer to where the water can touch the shore and does so — large, lopsided letters, tidbits of sand digging into his fingernails.

"My name is Roxas."

Here comes the water and the cerulean-eyed teen is holding his breath — once... twice... three times — it comes, washing over the sentence like it wasn't even there. Sora remains, however. Like it always does. It actually makes Roxas laugh, how absurd he was being. To spend countless minutes at the beach nearby his house, waiting for something or someone — he doesn't even know what or why. Axel would have a blast hearing this from him.

One last glance at the sky on the sand and Roxas heads home, completely unaware that a pair of azure eyes are smiling at him from afar.

He smiled at me...

It's been raining hard for three days straight, so Roxas hasn't had the chance to visit the beach again. Instead, he busies himself with board games against his twin. Sometimes their father Cloud joins them both and sweeps the victory off of the twins' feet before they know it. Aerith comes in a little later with a sweet-smelling lasagna dish, and the four dine with vigor while destruction takes place out in the open.

When the storm subsides a little, the young blonde deems it safe to venture out at the beachside once more. He tells himself how grateful he is for the rain as it had been scorching hot that season. With a green umbrella at hand, Roxas makes his way to the beach, a light shower of drizzle gathering on the old concrete road. There is nobody around. All of them are inside — safe from the cold, safe from the tears their beloved sky has shed.

But it seems he isn't the only one not repelled by the rain because the writing on the sand is there on the shore — seaweed clump and all. Roxas is careful not to get the edge of his jeans wet as he jogs over to the spot. What he sees shocks him; even more so than the fact that these traces on the ground are just as indestructible from the rain as they are with the waves.

"Hi Roxas. My name is Sora."

Letters... wonkier than usual. Prints of agony with smudges of little sand gathering around the edges of each character. Sora. The mysterious person's name is Sora. How has the stranger seen his own writing in the sand when it diffused as quickly as it did? Unless... this Sora has been watching him all along. That even now — Roxas frantically circles the area and with cautious steps, scrutinizing every metre from a distance — he's being watched...

"Who are you, Sora." He tells the raging sea. "I want to know. Let me know who you are."

I won't lose no sleep on that... 'cause I've got a plan.

End Part 1