He knows. He knows, because he'd only had days to unknowingly indulge a flight of fantasy, of being a regular boy in a regular town, with regular friends, and regular problems like homework and small town rivals. Even a beautiful, indulgent dream is a dream, and Roxas has made peace with how his recollection of Twilight Town and his "life" there was just an illusion.

Then it was his life or Sora's, the one who everyone needed more.

Just like it's always been other people over her, other people's plans over hers, with her as the helpless vehicle through which other people's plans could be accomplished. But this is their time, doesn't she see? Doesn't he see? This is their time.

"Riku," he says, and the pair of syllables only sounds sour because he's still sore about a fight they once had, one that he should've won if Riku hadn't cheated, "He said something like that. He said something about water that showed you lies about yourself and your friends."

He looks at her, "You didn't see that, right?" Because she doesn't deserve it, she never has. None of them did, the ones that were swept up into the plans of others, chewed up in the gears of machinations way beyond their comprehension, too new, too empty.