Ninety-nine percent of who you are is invisible and

Untouchable

– R. Buckminster Fuller

It wasn't the wind; nor was it the rain. Not the hail, the sleet, the snow… not even the sweet, loving breaths of Sora that could touch him.

Roxas was untouchable.

Sora didn't stop trying anyway.

He'd hold his Nobody's nonexistent hand, touch that nonexistent face, and kiss those lovely—and so very tempting—nonexistent lips.

Sora felt only air when these things happened; however in his heart (and groin) he felt warmth.

Roxas was always sheepish to the advances, but Sora didn't stop trying anyway. He'd coax the blond to loosen up, he'd get real close, and then he'd touch air over and over again.

Sora felt nothing.

Roxas felt everything.

The Nobody hadn't told his Somebody this, but he could just tell that Sora knew somehow.

Perhaps because they shared a heart, mind, and body.

Roxas' thoughts were Sora's, and vice versa. It was like the voices that schizophrenic people have in their heads, or the imaginary friends children play with when they are still so young and naïve.

The disturbing part was, Sora had no mental health disorder, and Roxas was just as real as the air Sora breathed and touched.

Sora felt nothing… but Roxas felt everything.

Sometimes, they'd go to the beach and stand on the shoreline; Roxas would laugh and giggle as the sand tickled his feet while the water chilled his ankles. Sometimes, they'd go to the beach and lay on the dock with their legs dangling off the edge while watching the clouds in the sky roll past. Sometimes, they'd go to the beach and Sora would nip and bite at Roxas' neck while they stand on the shore or lay on the dock. Sometimes, they'd go to the beach, and Roxas would moan and hiss and tremble beneath Sora—wishing so dearly that he could just be real for his Somebody so he could return these horribly arousing gestures en masse.

Sometimes, they'd go to the beach and end up in the bedroom.

If you'd ask Sora how they do it, he'd say "What other ways are there?"

If you'd ask Roxas, he'd say "What other ways are there?"

(And if Axel was alive—sipping on a milkshake and fiddling with a camcorder—and you asked him this question, he'd say "What other ways are there?" too.)

So in retrospect… it was the wind; and it was the rain. It was the hail, the sleet, the snow… even the sweet, loving breaths of Sora that could touch him…

If Roxas was touchable.

MHC: The voices told me to write this. The also told me to tell you to find the hidden message within it.

So it's one of those lame-ass sleepless nights, and I don't think I've ever written a fanfic where Roxas isn't actually… er… "in the flesh" so to speak. Pardon if it's not my best… it's a bit haphazard and I've yet to smooth out the bumps. But I will; I always do eventually.

This is kind of one of those weird things I never get around to actually writing, but here it is! For your reading pleasure, of course.

If you don't get what's up with Axel's milkshake (aside from the fact that it brings all the boys to the yard): there was a joke I heard a long time ago after playing KHII for the first time that made me LMAO all over the place (then made me feel like shit afterwards). It went "I want a milkshake. You know who can't have a milkshake? Axel. Because he's dead."

Axel's camcorder is just a silly little way of saying "Axel totally tapes Sora air-screwing Roxas lolololol"—which should also answer the question of how Sora and Roxas do it. If not, then how they do it is totally up to you because I'm too lazy to explain…

…it isn't self-cest goddammit.