It begins in a room, if you could call it that.
Non-descript to the point that it doesn't look real. Solid white - or perhaps pure would be a better word. For a moment they don't exist at all and suddenly they do. Riku and Sora have to take time to process this.
They don't recall waking up or being awake. They just are.

"My teeth are like fire in my mouth," Sora says, his fingertips to his mouth. "I don't think this has happened yet."

"This never was and never will be." Riku is blind. Underneath the blindfold he wears his eyes are mangled and useless - stuffed into his brain by the thumbs of his smaller companion. But that's another story for another time.

In the middle of the room there is a chest and Sora is unsure how to open it without bonking it with the keyblade. He squats to get a closer look. The chest is small. He traces the keyhole with his finger. His eyes wander in thought and the sign catches his eye. Not a sign. A framed piece of paper with bold black text on it. Hanging on the white wall. Seems like thin air.
The message is clear but it can't be that easy, can it?

"We should probably think about getting out of here," Sora says, dropping his gaze back down to the chest. To the keyhole he's fingering.

"Why?"

"It's not real," he idly replies.

"One cannot define their reality."

"When did you get so cryptic?"

"Around the same time you started calling me Ansem and forced your thumbs through my eyes and into my brain."

"Huh. A straight answer. How chic. Is this the dawn of a new Riku?"

"Not likely. This is no more dawn than it is dusk. We exist outside of time. There will be no recollection of this in our waking lives. This isn't the first time and it won't be the last."

"I'm not a fan of this. I haven't been for a long time."

"That's what this is, isn't it? A venue for your existential crisis. What a shit show."

"Excuse me if I don't care. I'm too tired to deal with this right now."

"You're too tired to deal with anything. You've spent over seven years in stasis, slowly deteriorating."

"I thought you said time didn't exist here."

"I say a lot of things, Sora. Your silence is complacency."

There is not a nightmare before them. A simple action, a show of affection. There's something between them, but it's not an obstacle they didn't build themselves.
Sora laughs but he doesn't know why. But we do. Some of us do.

"There's a lot left out of everything," Sora says. He stuffs the tip of his pinky into the keyhole of the chest and it clicks in, nice and tight. He turns it. The chest is small. Not sure if established yet but there you go. "I'll be the familiar stink on your knuckle!"

"You couldn't if you tried," Riku says, offense hangs over his voice like a chandelier over a lovely ballroom.
That is to say, Sora can tell something is wrong.

He knows something is wrong and ignores it. The howling wind would bang the shutters, were it a cabin they were in but alas. 'Twas nothing but a white room. Or "room", if you could call it that.
Where they exist is on a plane between space and time. But you didn't need me to explain that, did you?
There's a god somewhere in all of this that's saying no. That's reprimanding you for your selfish desires. Punishing Sora on your behalf.

Do you like it when Sora is punished?

The silent never speak.

Sora remembers the duck turning inside out. Sora remembers the death of a knight. It pains him in such a way that shant be described.
"There's not a whole lot left to blame it on, is there?" Riku's words are cold. Sora tries to ignore how much that stings.

"I can't summon the keyblade," he says.

"How oh how are you gonna open that chest, pumpkin?"

Sora makes a face at the condescension. Riku smirks.
Riku may be blind but he's very aware of his surroundings.

Sora always felt insecure around Riku. Inadequate. He doesn't like that feeling, which is why he thinks he's drawn to Kairi.
He wishes Kairi was there. Riku wishes Sora could see what he could. It's painful for both of them.

Sora changes his position, sitting cross legged in front of the chest instead of squatting. He gets comfortable.
"To stand and consider all possibilities..." he mutters to himself. Riku's smirk fades.

"There's only one thing that will open that door."

"How do you know about the door?"

"I know a lot of things."

"Do you know where we are?"

"No."

Scoff. "Some sage."

"My surroundings only feed me a limited amount of information. Just the immediate what, not the why. Much like your own eyes."

"Cryptic."

"Hardly. What does the sign say?"

"What?" Sora blinks.

"The sign. What does it say?"

"The framed words on the wall?"

"Yes."

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"No, I mean. It's nonsense. Gibberish. Doesn't make any sense."

"Ah."

Sora sighs and scratches his head. His hair is a mess. He taps the top of the chest three times with his index and middle finger and nothing happens.
"I'm out of ideas."

"There's not a whole lot you can accomplish if you don't even try, Sora."

"Thanks. You're helping." Sarcasm.

"You noticed the keyhole on the chest but did you bother to see if it was even locked?"

"Oh, jeez. That's brilliant Riku. What oh what would I do without you." Sora rolls his eyes and opens the chest. He blinks. "Huh. It opened."

"What's inside?"

"A vile of mystery goo, a handgun and a photograph."

"What's on the photograph?"

"I don't know. Memories."

"Are you being cute?"

"No, I- ... It's hard to explain. My brain isn't processing what I'm seeing with my eyes beyond waves of raw emotion. I'm looking at a paradox. It's blurry and it's clear. Like trying to read or type in a dream. It's frustrating to look at."

"Raw emotion?"

"Yeah."

"What do you feel?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Typical. You're never going to get your shit together with that attitude."

"Maybe I don't want to get my shit together. Maybe I'm happy just self-destructing. How's that?"

"You'd be taking the universe with you. Tearing down existence in a selfish act of weakness and cowardice. You aren't imprisoned, you are the prison."

"Is that why the keyblade chose me?"

A genuine laugh. "You still think you're the hero, don't you?"

"No." A defeated sigh. "I'm no hero. I'm not even good."

"Then what the hell makes you think the keyblade chose you? What makes you think you're special in any capacity? Perhaps you can't currently summon the weapon because it doesn't belong to you. It never did."

Sora tries not to cry, but silently, he does. He sniffles and picks up the gun.

"The magazine is soldered to the gun." His voice is irregular.

"Is it loaded?"

"I, uh." He pulls the slide back just enough to see a cartridge in the chamber. "Yes. I dunno if it's blanks or bullets but there's something in there."

"Only one way to find out."

Sora aims and fires the weapon at the words. The bang of the gun going off leaves a ringing in Sora's ears but the words are unaffected. He fires three more times. Nothing. He drops his hand into his lap and the gun along with it. Head hanging slack. Hyperventilating.
Icy fingertips touch the back of his neck. Startled, he reacts violently. Turning as his hand tightens desperately around the pistol. Squeezing the trigger. Riku's blood splatters hard across the surreal white surface of the room. Half of Riku's heart is missing and his brain matter is collecting in pools of blood on the floor before Sora realizes the mistake he's made. His eyes widen in horror. He calls out to his corpse over the ringing in his ears. He awkwardly catches the limp body as it collapses onto him, cradling him and turning over to hover over his side.

There's no finality to any of this, which is a concept Sora doesn't seem to understand.

A bittersweet smile is drained from Riku's face. A sob escapes Sora as he leans over to plant a kiss on the cadaver's cold lips before collapsing into an emotional shuddering pile into his neck and chest.

The door behind them opens.