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Riku’s hair looks like silverfish dancing under the waves in the moonlight. It’s a cheesy metaphor, but Sora can’t help thinking it anyway. The strange thing is that there is no moon, nothing that might resemble a reflection of the sunlight caught and sent back cold and white through the broad expanse of space. Here there are only the stars numbering in quantities uncountable in his lifetime, their light shining upon them with enough strength to cast shadows beneath their feet and skitter like snowflakes across their skin and lips. There are shadows everywhere here, distorted shapes and cold patches that lick at the edges of his shoes, but Sora isn’t afraid, not now. Riku’s arm is around his shoulders, his torso is warm under his hand, and there is something stronger than the smell of wet sand and cold ocean that Sora has come to realize is the smell of his friend, a scent he’s secretly thrilled to realize he hasn’t forgotten. Riku has always smelled like the sticky sweet paopu tree, too many days spent lying on its branches and absorbing the smell into his hair, his skin, his being, and the proximity of him now brings more memories of home and their island than any of the thousand fleeting hopes he’s experienced since starting this journey.
He misses it of course, home, the warm sand and the sodden docks and the chalk getting stuck under his fingernails. The exhilarating races and the clack-clack of wooden swords meeting in mock battle, and the promise of a soft bed and a hot meal waiting when the sun turns orange and begins to set. It’s an innocence he treasures and knows is still a deep part of himself – the desire to be free, to chase dreams and take the world into his fist – and perhaps everything about that part of his life was meant to lead him to the destiny he has shouldered to the present day. Admittedly, he feels too naive to fathom the responsibility of accepting something that so eerily resembles adult-hood, but the knowledge that he’s managed to take these experiences with him into this new leg of his life is a comfort nonetheless. Images of his friends, allies, and loved ones have been dancing behind his eyes more often as of late, carrying a feeling of change and the finality of a chapter of his life. And the strangest thing of it all is that Sora isn’t scared.
Sora stumbles slightly on the sand, the wet granules pulling at the bottom of his shoes, and he can tell by how heavily Riku leans against his side that his friend is still exhausted, a victim of his own brash need to push beyond sensible limits and protect Sora in the process. While Riku’s head is lowered, long hair shielding his face from the dark world around them, Sora takes the time to look around them, watching the shadows beneath the craggy rocks for golden eyes or the scritch-scratch of heartless rising out of the ground. But the silence here is soothing, broken only by the distant crash of surf on a beach that really shouldn’t exist at all, and the calm that has been washing over his heart since they stepped into this strange realm finally starts to feel real, and welcome.
Riku finally stirs, lifting his head in a way that draws strands of his silver hair across Sora’s shoulder, and Sora pauses his steps to study the profile of his friend. A haircut would do a world of good for the older boy, and Sora quietly admits that he misses having an unobstructed view of those emerald green eyes -- vivid irises that look darker now than he’s ever seen them, and there’s something inside him that still clenches uncomfortably at the sight, squeezing an unidentifiable organ with enough force to draw up that old stab of guilt. But Riku’s lips are slowly turning up into a smile as his neck continues to tip back, hair tumbling down his back as he takes in the canopy of stars above them. Sora finds his gaze drawn up as well, his left hand shifting to gain a better grip on the wrist over his shoulder. Riku’s fingers unconsciously curl around the palm of his hand in response.
“They’re beautiful,” Riku whispers, and something within Sora tightens again, a tingle followed by a rising need for oxygen, and it’s strange to feel like he can’t get a proper breath drawn when he’s completely standing still. He’s felt short of breath ever since finding Riku again, but it comes in waves that crest and seem to disappear from one moment to the next. Isn’t it strange that something like a half-smile from his friend can make his world go a little fuzzy around the edges?
The feeling is disconcerting and confusing, so he ducks his head and manages to smile lopsidedly, hiding from what, he isn’t quite sure.
“Getting sentimental in your old age?”
Riku drops his gaze from the heavens to look down at him, his eyes nearly obscured by the bangs that have fallen back in place. “So I’m old now? See if I ever help you fight off a thousand nobodies again.”
The teasing lilt to his voice draws Sora’s eyes up with a snap, cobalt depths fixed on a set of lips quirked in a way he’s managed not to forget about after all. It takes a wealth of self-control he definitely didn’t possess a year ago to stop himself from throwing his arms around Riku in a hug. Instead he grins and watches an answering flash of white teeth appear on Riku’s face, something silent and familiar passing between them – a memory of times long passed or a promise that things haven’t changed that much after all.
Riku’s head turns to study the dark beach before them, the smile melting into a frown and his voice sinking in a way that, unfortunately, sounds more fitting within the body of a boy barely standing by himself. “End of the road, huh?”
“Riku…”
The taller boy moves, slowly, to draw his arm from around Sora’s shoulder. “I think I can stand on my own now.”
Sora lets him go reluctantly, a hand landing on Riku’s chest when he stumbles forward a half step, and they both break into small grins when Riku’s first response is to bat his fingers away good naturedly. Riku straightens to stare forward, the starlight brushing his skin with pewter shadows that make the years even more noticeable, the years that have passed and separated them and forced the boy he once knew to grow up into the shape of a man. But he doesn’t move, only watches the distant waves with an unwavering attention that Sora has always been envious of, and the shorter boy realizes that it befalls upon him to take the first brave steps into this world.
He does so with a deliberate stride meant to keep his balance on the rough sand as much as to remain alert for anything amiss or threatening, which they’ve learned has a very good chance of popping out at them in places where the darkness consumes everything within reach. He makes it to the edge of the shore unimpeded and stops inches from where the water slides up on the sand to study the horizon, a strange breeze ruffling his hair and smelling faintly of something metallic and cold. Without evidence of life here the world seems dead, existing only as long as the fabric of the memory of what it once might have been keeping it intact, and Sora wonders if they’d find nothing but more rocks and empty shores if they sailed toward that gray horizon.
Two boys on a dying world left floating through space on its fraying edges, and somehow he doesn’t feel frightened, only at peace. The waves are soothing and familiar in a way, enough of a reminder of happier times that Sora can’t help but feel like this place was meant for them. Like a gift only they would be able to appreciate. Or an apology for the pain they've suffered.
“I think,” he says quietly, watching the water ripple around the arches of stone that jut out from the surf. “The darkness has gotten inside me, too.”
There’s a sound behind him, and Sora turns to see Riku lying face down on the sand, a sight that makes his heart catch in his throat and his stomach go cold in a way that innumerable enemies have never been able to, before he breaks into a run.
“Riku!”
He’s by Riku’s side in an instant, the rough sand abrading his knees and hands as he skids to a stop and falls beside the collapsed boy. Something within him suddenly wants to cry irrationally at the sight of his best friend shaking with weak exhaustion as he struggles to rise from the sand.
“Are you…” Sora begins, placing a wet and sandy hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Riku nods and manages to lift himself to his knees, fingers creating shallow trenches in the sand where he grips the earth, but Sora doesn’t miss the tremble that runs through his arms or the shaky quality to his voice when he speaks. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Sora asks in confusion, not expecting the question.
“This world. It’s perfect for me.”
Sora’s mouth falls open as his hand drops from Riku’s shoulder, wondering whether the cold he suddenly feels is from the wind, his friend’s words, or both. He watches Riku’s eyes fix upon the ocean, a look upon his face not much different from the one Sora used to see there before this began, when they were children eyeing dreams on the horizon and Riku was the one who believed the most that there, out there, held the keys to their freedom.
“If this really is all that's left… in that case, maybe it'd be okay to completely exist within the darkness.”
Sora can’t believe he’s hearing this, or that every word is making something splinter and fracture painfully inside him. As if listening to his friend condemn himself all over again wasn’t painful enough there is a deeper wound that's always been there, raw and tender regardless of the years gone by, because Riku's trying to do this alone. Did he really think that they had fought so hard and for so long, that Sora searched through a dozen worlds just for a hint that Riku was still alive, to let himself be brushed aside in favor of a solitary existence that would be just as heartbreaking for Sora to endure as Riku? He wants to punch Riku as much as he wants to cry, and the emotional tug-of-war within him draws only one word to the surface, and his cheeks color as he hears his voice crack like the child he thought he had finally grown apart from.
“Riku…”
Riku doesn’t look at him, his eyes shielded by the curtain of silver across his cheekbones, and he manages to lift himself back to rest on his heels, dark grains of sand sticking to the front of his jacket and shirt. Sora looks away, but not far, his eyes falling on the pale hands stained with dirt as they come to rest on Riku’s thighs, fingers curling and drawing over the fabric with a soft rasp just audible over the hiss of the waves.
“The worlds are made up of light and darkness.” Here Riku pauses, and Sora watches his hands clench into loose fists, strong fingers that he knows are callous ridden and hardened as much as his own. (But there the similarities end between their bodies, one slim and small and the other strong and robust.) Sora feels a foreboding sense of detachment washing over him, distancing him from the words he can hear coming -- another declaration about their lives meant to exist in two separate realms, one in darkness and one in light. He was sick of hearing the words then and he doesn’t want to hear them now, not when Riku is finally back in his life and he’s witnessed first hand that his existence is, for lack of better words, incomplete without the other boy beside him. But what is there to say when he feels nothing but empty and cold inside?
“We can stay in the darkness.”
Sora isn’t quite sure he heard the other boy right until the silence stretches for an uncomfortable span and the hands in his sight shift to tighten into white knuckled fists, betraying a hint of the insecurity that Sora is surprised to realize he can still read in his friend. He looks up slowly and catches Riku staring at him through the fringe of his hair, a question lurking in their aquamarine depths that seems incapable of being voiced aloud. Something in Sora breaks free and gives him back the ability to breathe again, a smile of relief pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Yeah,” he answers, moving to sit beside his friend, a hand’s width between their shoulders as Riku’s head turns to watch him with the same inscrutable expression, perhaps doubtful that Sora truly understood what he meant. But Sora does, better than he thought he’d ever be able to again, and it makes him a little giddy as the smile stretches and he watches the distant water, the weight of Riku’s eyes on him a comfortable presence.
“The world of light is okay now. Kairi, the King and everyone else is there,” he says, nodding.
He knows he doesn’t imagine it when he feels Riku relax, the hands on his legs uncurling to hang loose at his sides, and Sora’s glad to know that he wasn’t the only one who was worried when he hears Riku exhale. It’s entirely possible that a hundred meanings lie behind that one breath, but only one really matters, and Sora feels it with a certainty that floods with warmth through every fiber of his being. They’re in this for good, together.
“Mm, exactly,” Riku agrees, his voice leaving pin prickles of awareness dancing up the length of Sora’s arm closest to his friend.
It’s strange that now, sitting apart from him, Sora feels more aware of every breath and movement from the other boy than he did while they walked arm-in-arm through the white realm of the nobodies and searched for a way to return home. It’s a disquieting sensation that isn’t entirely unpleasant, which is precisely why Sora feels reluctant to give a name to the feelings that have been buzzing around inside him since he fell to his knees and held the hand of a stranger’s body clasped between his trembling fingers. There’s always been the knowledge of relief, elation, and a fierce silent promise to never lose sight of this person again, but the physical awareness is something new altogether and has been there since he awoke to find a familiar head of silver hair spread across the floor of a castle balcony. It’s only to be expected, he wants to tell himself, to feel like a magnet being pulled irrevocably closer to another of the opposite polarity -- only he isn’t quite sure what will happen once they collide, or if he’ll find himself adrift and alone once more before they have a chance to make contact. And therein lies the true question he’s worked hard to avoid all along: whether he even wants to test the strange mechanics of this undeniable force that, when they last collided together, resulted in an explosion that separated them for a long and painful year.
“Na, Sora?” Riku asks, and Sora feels a twitch jump under the skin of his back as he turns to acknowledge his friend, the jumbled thoughts in his head scattering like rainbow fragments at the soft, beseeching smile on the older boy’s face. “Sorry to ask, but could you help me? I want to go down to the water.”
Sora’s surprised to feel his hands are shaking as he pushes off his knee to stand, feeling wet sand fall from his backside to land against the dirt as his palm brushes his shorts clean. Riku is looking up at him with a kind of open trust that Sora has never seen there before, or has perhaps not wanted to notice, the implications too close to a feeling of equality that Sora truthfully finds entirely unfamiliar when it comes to his best friend. It makes him feel responsible, strong… wanted. Dangerous words that threaten to change things and apply new meanings to emotions best left untouched, and Sora’s had enough experience in dealing with angry bees to know that this is a confused swarm he wants to leave alone.
Riku extends his hand to Sora, palm up, open, trusting, and Sora’s not quite sure how to explain away the shiver that races through him as he grasps the other boy’s hand, their fingers briefly tangling, before he draws Riku’s heavy body to his feet. This time Riku makes no pretense of being able to walk on his own and Sora begins slowly dragging the two of them the short distance to the shore, a trip made that much longer by the weight of the warm body leaning wearily against his side.
“At least the waves sound the same,” Riku murmurs, and all Sora can do is nod, having thought the same thing before. But he has a feeling it’s different for him, when having his friend close by again enhances the memory of how the waves are truly meant to be, and without thinking he inhales deeply to brighten the memories of sunny afternoons spent basking on a tiny island and playing tag with his best friend.
“Do you miss it?” Sora hears himself ask.
“I shouldn’t have,” Riku answers, followed by a rumble of soft laughter. “But I did, every day.”
“Me too,” Sora admits, a tiny knot in his chest unwinding with a feeling of relief.
Riku nods, and the motion brings their heads close to knocking together, making Sora aware of how tightly his friend has slumped against him over the last few seconds, silver strands only a hair’s width from brushing against his cheek. He realizes it would take only a tiny turn of his head to bury his nose in the soft strands and draw in the uninhibited scent of the paopu tree, and to his shock the simple thought makes his head reel and his stomach claw uncomfortably up his throat with warring feelings of desire and fear, not so dissimilar from the feeling of drawing out the keyblade for the first time in battle -- only this time it’s the boy in his arms he wants to conquer, and Sora shudders inwardly as he struggles to swallow past the lump fixed in his throat. It doesn’t mean anything, he tries to tell himself, even when common sense is trying to tell him otherwise, because leaving it undefined is the safest explanation when he’s not even sure what he really wants.
“Here is okay,” Riku says, their toes coming to stop a few steps from the lapping waves, and Sora helps to lower his friend to the sand with a gentle consideration that even he wasn’t aware of being capable of. But he withdraws quickly once Riku is seated and sits upon the sand with a flop that squelches loudly, making both of them laugh, though Sora more out of embarrassment than humor.
Riku turns to look at him, bangs parted in a way for once that allows Sora a glimpse of an eye and one eyebrow, and that slim line of silver lifts in open curiosity at the wide stretch of space Sora has left between their bodies. Sora doesn’t reply and faces the ocean, unwilling to answer a question even he doesn’t have the answer to, and to his relief Riku does not follow up his silence with a verbalization of the same inquiry.
The silence combined with the waves is calming, though Sora feels as though his insides are still abuzz with nervous energy, as if half expecting a fight to break out or some new threat to come crashing into their private moment. His side glances to Riku aren’t revealing much about the other boy’s state of mind either, only that he appears content to gaze up at the stars, one knee bent and wrist draped across the dark blue fabric as the offshore breeze catches and releases the strands of silver that have fallen over his shoulder.
“Sora?”
“Hmm?” Sora answers lazily, his nose wrinkling slightly against the faint metallic scent still drifting off the water.
“Before, when I said I thought you weren’t as good as me…” Riku begins, his voice trailing away to lose itself in the crash of a wave breaking on shore beyond their feet.
Sora gives Riku a sidelong glance, wondering where this choice of topic has come from. “Yeah?” he prompts, natural curiosity taking over when Riku doesn’t continue right away.
Riku licks his lips, and Sora watches him swallow with a slow bob of his Adam’s apple. “Actually, I was envious of you.”
Sora’s first reaction is to blink, sure the sound of the surf has distorted his hearing, and that he couldn’t have possibly just heard those words come from his friend. “Why?” he finally asks.
“To be like you, the way you can live through your heart. It’s probably a lot more fun that way.”
Sora frowns at the tone in the other boy’s voice, a kind of sad wistfulness he’s never heard there before, and is surprised that hearing Riku confess his envy for something that Sora has isn’t bringing him the delight he always imagined he’d feel. “I’ve got plenty of problems to deal with, you know,” he protests, rubbing absently at his upper lip.
“Like what?” Riku asks, a hint of a smile creeping into his voice at Sora’s surly tone of denial.
Sora hesitates before answering, feeling that span of years separating them rear up strong and in a way that’s hard to ignore, the time they spent apart like a buffer against feelings he used to harbor then that seem a bit childish and inappropriate now. There’s a lingering, unspoken question there, a test to see how much he can answer, how far he’s willing to leap in order to bridge that yawning gap between them and hope that Riku is there to catch him on the other side. He wants to believe his friend will be there, that he’s trying in his own way to draw Sora back into his life, to relax back into the motions that are familiar and yet different, two boys nearing adulthood rather than having recently stepped out of childhood. But Sora wants to be bold, he realizes, brave enough to meet Riku’s confession with one of his own, to find a space where they can be equals rather than just rivals.
“Wanting to become like you.”
“Is that so?” Sora misses the teasing smile that curves across Riku’s mouth and the way his friend’s posture relaxes minutely, his head bowing to draw the ends of his hair forward across his shoulders. “I suppose there is one thing I have, something you can never get.”
Sora’s head lifts in surprise, looking at his friend in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. “What… do you mean by that?”
Riku only smiles, his eyes still focused on the water, dappled starlight reflecting off the waves to catch and shimmer in the ends of his hair. “Having Sora as a friend.”
Sora isn’t sure whether to laugh out loud or sink into the sand right there, something warm and unexpected blooming in his chest, embarrassment lingering but now overlain with a feeling of giddy relief. He finds it easy to grin as he leans back on his hands, joining Riku in studying the water. “Well, then I guess I’m okay the way I am, because I’ve got something you can never do either.”
They fall into an easy silence after that, the grin on Sora’s face relaxing into a smile that could almost be called wistful, but his heart feels lighter than it has in a long time, as if the ropes and tight knots which have bound it since the moment he lost his friend all over again are finally falling away piece by piece. Sitting on an empty beach on a dying world is the last place Sora would have thought they’d reconcile their friendship but somehow it feels appropriate, and Riku’s earlier words are beginning to hold a kind of truth that he feels unable to deny. This place is perfect for them -- the darkness, a world devoid of fighting and strife and pain, giving them the space to remember each other and reconnect. Sora would never have said so before this, but a part of him is beginning to realize that hope can exist in the darkest places, that even within a crumbling memory light can live as long as it’s desired, and that perhaps the worlds are not predestined to harbor one side or the other.
“Are we really going to stay here forever?” Sora asks, removing his gaze from the rocky outcroppings that march across the shore to study his friend, whose head is once more lifted to study the heavens, pale throat bared to the breeze.
Riku’s voice comes out fondly, answering Sora without looking at him. “Stop worrying so much.”
Sora frowns as he looks up at the silver haired boy. “What if I get hungry?”
“I don’t think you can get hungry here,” is Riku’s reply as he lowers his head, the stars now obscured by a bank of high fog.
“How do you know?”
Now Riku looks at Sora, but there’s no smugness or humor in his eyes, only an open gaze that makes Sora’s stomach flop uneasily, and somehow sitting an arm’s length away still doesn’t feel like he’s put enough distance between him and the other boy. “Have you felt hungry or thirsty since you got here? Since we stepped inside Kingdom Hearts?”
Sora ponders this with a small pout. “No… not really.”
“Me neither,” Riku says, shrugging, his attention once more on the still ocean. “I don’t think we can feel anything here.”
“I feel cold,” Sora argues, but then amends himself. “But only a little. It’s more like something you feel inside, that’s always there.”
Sora reaches toward the slow rising tide and lets some of the water spill across his bare fingers, the digits becoming clean as the sand is lifted from his skin and carried away back into the ocean. “Even the water doesn’t feel that cold,” he admits, a quiet sigh of disappointment spilling from his lips.
“Is that so bad, not being able to feel?” Riku asks, though the question doesn’t feel directed at Sora. The smaller boy turns to peer at his friend with an argument on the tip of his tongue, but stops at the look on Riku’s face. His expression is a mirror of pain, reflecting the starlight and the years that have taken their toll on his heart.
“Riku…” Sora whispers, unconsciously shifting closer across the sand toward the other boy, his arms itching in that moment to lift and wrap around the shoulders of his friend. But he restrains himself, and then wonders why he feels he should when a year ago he wouldn’t have hesitated. The realization of this change makes his heart ache for the absence of what they once had and for the helplessness he feels staring at the profile of his best friend who sits there alone, bearing his burdens in silence.
After a moment Riku’s distant gaze switches from the horizon to Sora’s face, and he breaks into a small smile at the look of distress that sits there plain as day, a sparkle of fondness in his eyes that Sora is pretty sure he’s never seen there before. His hand closest to Sora lifts from the sand to land on top of his head, making the smaller boy flinch at the contact, and he feels slim fingers ruffle through his hair in a familiar manner of years long passed.
“Such a sap, Sora. Stop worrying so much.”
Sora feels his frown deepen, both at the jibe and Riku’s off-handed way of trying to brush off the matter. He tries to duck his head out from under Riku’s hand, but only ends up causing the other boy's fingers to become more deeply immersed in the messy spikes. He sighs aloud. “How can you say something like that? I thought you’d changed, Riku.”
“I have,” Riku replies, wind swept hair sliding across his jawbone and the column of his neck, and he tips his head to the side to regard Sora thoughtfully. “Are you going to hate me for thinking like that?”
“No!” Sora answers immediately, and then feels his face soften at the genuine look of surprise in the other boy’s eyes, as if a part of him still expects Sora to turn and walk away from him for all of his past transgressions. “I don’t hate you. I never have, and I never will.”
Riku nods once, accepting this vehemently spoken statement, and the hand on Sora’s head slides from the crown of his head down to the nape of his neck, sending sparks of electricity down Sora’s spine. The rough touch of skin meeting feels more intimate than anything Sora’s ever experienced before, and he barely holds back the shiver that wants to travel from his ears down to the tips of his toes. The only thing preventing him from standing up and bolting are Riku’s eyes, which are bright and steady as they remain locked on Sora’s face, another inscrutable look residing there that he’s unable to name.
Sora licks his lips unconsciously, trying to ignore the warm fingers around his neck that haven’t moved from their place above the collar of his jacket. “Do you really never want to feel again?”
“What’s there to feel?” is Riku’s answer, his eyes lowering to the sand that lies in the space between their bodies.
Without much thought to his actions, Sora reaches back to pick up the hand on his neck, and this time he does shiver as the fingers withdraw, blazing fire that makes his hairs stand on end in their wake. He takes Riku’s palm and presses it against his own, letting their fingers curl around the soft flesh of the other’s hand. “Remember when Kairi did this?” Sora asks, cupping his other hand over the back of Riku’s bare knuckles. “What did you feel then?”
“Scared,” Riku confesses after a moment of silence, his voice no more than a murmur barely heard over the tumble of the surf crashing just beyond their feet. “Ashamed,” he answers again, and attempts with a weak tug to pull his hand free from Sora’s grasp.
Sora holds on tightly, drawing himself closer across the sand with both hands wrapped around Riku’s. “Is that really all you felt?” he demands.
Riku shakes his head and doesn’t try to withdraw his hand again, but his shoulders are held stiff in a way that tells Sora he isn’t quite ready to admit defeat yet, not if that means baring his heart to his lifelong friend.
“Riku,” Sora implores when the other boy’s face remains steadily averted.
“I was scared… of you being disgusted with me,” Riku finally confesses, his voice quiet and unnaturally thick. “Because I gave into the darkness and chose to wear his face.”
“But you had to,” Sora says, honestly confused. “If you hadn’t found a way to be stronger, you could have died.”
Sora feels his voice catch on the last word, recalling with more clarity than he wishes he had of the many times he contemplated this very thing, that all of his searching would turn up with finding Riku dead at the end. It makes his chest tight all over again, to think of how close he might have been to losing Riku, his best friend, the owner of the face that haunted his dreams while he slept on unaware of the months passing around him, the name that sometimes drove him to near insanity just hearing it spoken by someone else. He wonders if Riku can possibly understand what hell he’s gone through in his single-minded search for the other boy. A part of him is sure that Riku does, somewhere, and buried there lies a hope that maybe all this time Riku has been searching for him as much as he has been searching for Riku.
Sora catches his bottom lip between his teeth and scoots closer to the other boy, lifting their clasped hands to bring Riku’s knuckles to his forehead in a familiar gesture, and while this time the tears are absent from his cheeks as he speaks, their presence is still heavy in his throat. “You could have died ,” he repeats, well aware that he sounds like a pathetic 15 year old on the verge of crying, and for once not caring.
The fingers around his hand tighten suddenly, catching his palm in a crushing grip, and Sora’s head jerks up to meet Riku’s gaze, something fierce staring back at him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. This time Riku pulls as he draws his hand back and Sora falls against the other boy’s chest, hard, the startled gasp from both of them telling him that he isn’t the only one who’s suddenly found himself short of breath. A warm arm winds around his shoulders, gripping his upper arm and pinning him against Riku’s chest, where their hands are still clasped and trapped between their bodies, and Sora can do nothing but breathe in the scent of his friend as he finds his nose and mouth pressed into the other boy’s collarbone.
Neither of them speaks, though Sora knows his silence is borne more out of shock for the sudden and uncharacteristic show of affection from his friend. He’s aware that Riku is warm, significantly warmer than the air in this place, that the sweet scent of paopu and tropical breezes cling like a permanent scent on his bare skin, and that Riku is trembling slightly as he grips Sora in a crushing hug that can’t be making it easy for either of them to breathe. But he can’t bring himself to protest or pull away, not when it feels like Riku’s clinging more than hugging, as if holding Sora is his last connection to the realm of feelings that he seemed in such a hurry to run away from earlier.
Sora lets himself sink into the hold, feeling a bit like he’s melting in an effort to fuse with the other boy, and manages to lift the hand not being gripped by Riku’s to wrap it around the other boy’s back, returning the hug. To his surprise he feels Riku shiver under his hand, a tremble and a clenching of the tight muscles he can feel through the thin material of the boy’s shirt, like an answering response to the way his own heart is beating fast and loud within his ears. He feels the fingers gripping his shoulder loosen their tight hold, and Sora stiffens when the hand on his back drags across the material of his jacket to center over the space between his shoulder blades, awakening gooseflesh that races up the back of his neck to his hairline.
“You haven’t started screaming yet,” Riku huffs with amusement, a strange catch to his voice, and the puff of air that falls into the ear nearest his mouth sends a shiver that runs through Sora’s body like a hard wave, making his head spin and his entire being tremble like a leaf caught in a sudden windstorm. He can’t name this sudden surge of emotion or explain why hugging Riku doesn’t seem like enough anymore, but his heart is pounding and his stomach is crawling with a thousand butterflies. Here is the moment when he can pull away, to laugh and grab Riku in a headlock, whine about being teased, place them back inside their neat boxes and carefully drawn lines of friendship, or… just stay.
Sora’s hand grips the material under his hand, pressing closer, confused and overwhelmed and yet still hoping that this wave will pass unnoticed. But pressed chest to chest makes Riku aware of the trembles running through the boy in his arms immediately, and with a concerned gasp he attempts to pull back and look down at the dark clad figure under his arm. “Sora? What’s wrong?”
Sora only shakes his head, face still buried in the crook of the older boy’s shoulder, denying himself acknowledgement of the world around them or the bewildered tone in Riku’s voice. He just wants to cling to the grip of the hand holding him between their chests as long as possible until Riku realizes how badly he wants this and pushes him away out of disgust. He exhales harshly against Riku’s neck, not noticing in his own state that this makes the other boy tremble as well, or that the hand on his shoulders has begun to slide down the center of his back toward the hem of his jacket. But then the world tips suddenly and Sora feels his center of gravity shift, carrying him down until he’s flat on his back, the sandy ground hard and cool through his clothes and the waves lapping gently at the soles of his shoes. Riku is poised over him, face obscured by his silver hair and the shadows that cannot be chased away by the starlight, but his irises are still visible, dark and deep and greener than the richest ocean water, and their intertwined fingers are now lying on the ground next to Sora’s head.
This time it’s Sora’s turn to gasp in surprise, feeling a hot flood of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Riku?”
“Aren’t you scared?” the older boy asks, a weight to his voice that sends another unwanted shiver through Sora’s body. Truthfully he’s terrified, but not of Riku, only of this body he inhabits which seems unable to stop quaking just from the sound of his friend’s voice and plagued by the same circling thoughts. Riku’s smell... Riku’s smile... Riku’s hair... Riku’s eyes… Riku Riku Riku .
“A little,” he says quietly, eyes darting about until they find a safe place to rest on Riku’s collarbone, as if whispering the truth will make the inevitable repercussions less harsh. “But not of you.”
There’s another long silence while they remain on the sand, Sora on his back and Riku half sprawled across him, the bent arm he can feel next to his ribs and a knee next to his thigh the only things keeping the boy upright besides their intertwined fingers. Sora’s heart is still pounding heavy and hard in his chest, but the sound of the waves and Riku’s deep breathing are beginning to register over the blood rushing in his ears. It’s spreading a curious warmth through Sora, like a tingle of magic traveling from his head down to his abdomen. There is something surreal and spell-like about this moment and Sora is beginning to wonder if Riku can feel it too, because where their bodies connect he can feel an answering tremble, like an electric current passing between them and looping back again, attempting to draw them close and push them apart at the same time.
Riku shifts after a moment and picks up their joined hands, adjusting his grip so that the back of Sora’s hand is facing him, their thumbs intertwined, and presses their clasped hands to the center of his chest in a gesture that makes Sora’s heart clench tightly.
“Do you really want me to feel again?” Riku asks softly, and Sora’s answering nod is immediate.
“Even if I need you to do it?” Riku asks quieter still, the darkness not quite enough to hide the worried frown Sora can see on his full lips, or that his eyes have left Sora’s face to focus on an indeterminate point on the younger boy’s chest, their dark depths hooded and almost shy, ashamed.
“Who else is supposed to help you?” Sora hears himself ask in reply, sudden emotion clogging his throat, caught up in a tide of possessive indignation that Riku would ever doubt or need to question Sora’s presence in his life. Sora untangles his fingers from Riku’s and rotates his hand to splay the palm against the other boy’s sternum, pushing just enough to feel the warmth of his skin beneath the material and cold zipper against his fingers. “Don’t give up on this.”
“This?” Riku repeats quietly, turning his hand to cup the back of Sora’s knuckles, and the draw of his thumb across the dry skin above his gloves sends another tingle down Sora’s arm. “What if I’m afraid of it?”
“It isn’t going anywhere,” Sora says softly. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re not leaving me and I’m not leaving you.”
In the next moment Riku clasps their hands again, twining their fingers as he draws Sora’s hand away from his chest and up to his chin. Sora shivers when he feels moist breath spilling across the bare knuckles of his fingers, the sensation like a warm punch to the gut that leaves him suddenly tingling with anticipation.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Riku murmurs behind Sora’s fingers, followed by a brush of lips over dry skin, not a kiss exactly, but deliberate enough to make Sora’s eyes go wide and his heart jump to beat double-time. When he doesn’t draw away or speak, only watches his friend with a sudden wash of want , Riku plants another soft kiss against his fingers, leaving a spot of fire behind as they retreat, and every part of Sora’s body curls in sudden pleasure.
“Riku…” he whispers, surprised by the needy tone of his voice, and to his delight feels Riku’s mouth curve into a smile behind his hand, the pleased slant of his green eyes just visible behind the strands of silver that have fallen around them, creating a curtain against the darkness and the waves that are now lapping against their ankles.
“Soon,” Riku promises, his voice now an octave lower than it was when this conversation began, though what he’s promising Sora isn’t sure of, let alone what he’s supposed to hope Riku’s promise entails. But something within him has awakened and settled without fight or fuss over his heart, and he feels the invisible tug of that something between them like a tangible thing now, a result of the magnetic force or maybe a connection that’s been there all along, he isn’t sure. But it makes him feel safer and warmer than he can ever recall feeling in the past, warmer than a sunny day on Destiny Islands or a flare of fire magic in his palm.
“When?” Sora asks, trying for cool but no such luck, he just sounds a little breathless now. He wants to cling to this feeling, wants to bottle this warmth in his chest and carry it around with him from this moment going forward, and he really wants to know what Riku is thinking. What he’s promising.
Riku doesn’t answer, only drops another kiss (unmistakably a kiss now) to the tops of Sora’s knuckles. Sora didn’t realize how cold his hands were but the contrast in temperature between Riku’s lips and his skin is stark. He wants to keep feeling that warmth, hopelessly certain that this is something he can probably do now, and his hand twitches free of Riku’s grip to ghost the pads of his index and middle finger across those warm lips, which are now curving gently beneath the sensitive skin. Riku’s hand is still cupped around the back of his palm and Sora feels him exerting just a little more pressure, drawing him in closer, causing his fingers to press against Riku’s mouth, his bottom lip dragging down with the motion. And then Riku’s eyes spark and Sora feels warm wet oh my god as Riku’s lips part and take the tip of his middle finger into his mouth.
Sora’s brain short-circuits and an aborted gasp leaves his throat, punched out of him from somewhere deep down and with enough force that the knee Riku’s leg is touching actually jerks. Riku is kissing, no Riku is sucking on his finger and Sora’s chest feels too tight and the breathing he thought he’d gotten back under control is now spiraling away from him. He wants to say something, wants to ask questions, wants to say yes more , but all that leaves his mouth is a small whine and he feels his cheeks blazing again, heat dripping below his ears and down the sides of his neck.
Riku mercifully lets Sora’s finger drop from between his lips, but leaves it resting just below his bottom lip. “Now?” Riku asks roughly and he sounds like he feels what Sora’s feeling, a little dazed and maybe like this teasing is actually winding him up more than Sora realized.
“God yes,” Sora gasps and his hand darts down from Riku’s face to grab the fabric of his shirt, hauls him down as his own head lifts, hoping he doesn’t miss, doesn’t mess this up, didn’t totally just make the wrong call…
Their lips impact, just a little off center, but it’s a real kiss. They’re kissing and Riku’s pressing him down so the back of Sora’s head is resting on the sand again and Riku’s mouth is so warm. Sora feels Riku’s free hand slip from between their chests and then there’s a gentle touch on the side of his face, fingertips skimming his jaw, cheek, sliding toward his ear and then sinking into his hair. The kiss is so soft and their mouths are mostly closed but Sora’s heart is racing like something even more monumental and dangerous is happening, his fingers flexing involuntarily against the fabric of Riku’s shirt.
Then Riku’s head tips, breaking the kiss to begin another one, turns just a little bit to change the angle, and it’s even better . Sora’s breath stutters, another broken sound leaving the back of his throat, and the fingers Riku has pushed into his hair slide down more and curl around the back of his head between his hair and the sand. The touch brings his face up more, makes the kiss just a little deeper so he can feel the hint of moisture that lies just behind Riku’s lips, feels it meet the space just inside his mouth. They’re kissing and it feels good but also exciting, every new press and drag between their mouths firing off zings of joy that feel like they’re reaching the furthest extremities of Sora’s body.
And drifting through his thoughts it’s the same chant that’s been there all year, across every planet and every night spent on the gummiship, the name that clung to his dreams and sometimes awoke him with dried tears on his cheeks and a fierce ache in his heart. Riku Riku Riku .
“Riku…” Sora sighs when the boy on top of him releases his lips momentarily, a bit grateful because Sora’s been feeling a little breathless and trying to get air through his nose all this time is getting harder. But he’s okay with Riku making him pass out if their kisses are going to keep feeling like this, slotting into his heart so perfectly and soothing away the bruising memory of a white door closing on Riku’s face, on the little, sad smile that Sora has replayed behind his eyes a thousand times over the past year.
“So impatient,” Riku murmurs, lips hovering just barely above Sora’s mouth. “I was gonna make you wait.”
“So mean,” Sora chides, tipping his mouth up for another kiss. He can’t let Riku follow through on that threat. It takes a few seconds before he can bring himself to break their lips apart. “You can’t hold out on me.”
Riku hums and Sora can feel it through his palm, rumbling somewhere in his chest, and Sora slides his gloved hand up, crossing over Riku’s collarbone and bringing his fingers up to cup the back of Riku’s neck, hidden under the silver hair that’s gotten so long and Sora’s been wanting to touch so badly.
“You mean it?” Riku asks a little breathlessly and he presses in for a kiss before Sora can answer. It’s another excellent kiss and then his mouth tugs on Sora’s bottom lip (that’s new ), drawing it gently between his own for a moment before he lets it go free. That was amazing and Sora wants to feel it again, because he’d forgotten that there are different kinds of kissing, but Riku’s forehead tips down to rest against his, the tips of their noses just touching and eyes so close Sora really can’t see his pupils at all.
“You have to tell me you mean it,” Riku says, so softly, but Sora can hear him clearly, can feel the brush of warm air from his mouth skimming across his own.
Sora swallows. He’s never going to get his heart to stop beating this hard. “Yeah… yeah I mean it.” He kisses Riku again, that mouth is just too close and it feels like he gains a little more courage from the way Riku immediately responds. Their lips fit together so good and Sora can’t believe how much he wants more, wants to feel this mouth locked against his all the time, wants to know what other kinds of kisses they haven’t tried yet.
Riku lets out a little groan and oh, wow, that makes a whole new kind of shiver run through Sora’s body, his fingers gripping tighter against the back of Riku’s neck, and Riku actually does it again and then his mouth leaves Sora’s in a huff. He’s breathing even heavier and Sora’s really liking the little sounds and tremors he can feel coursing through Riku’s body because they’ve gotten pressed even closer together, chest to chest with their hands no longer in the way. The fingers holding the back of Sora’s head away from the sand are flexing, and Sora can feel Riku’s forearm tensing alongside his own arm.
“You can… we can…” Sora can’t even bring himself to finish that sentence. He’s feeling braver but this is so new and Sora’s not even sure what’s normal and where these things lead to and yeah he’s totally okay with anything that Riku wants but man does he have a big hole in his head when it comes to anything like this.
“Sora…” Riku groans, yeah that’s a groan and Sora’s brain thinks sexy rather quickly, so that’s now something that’s definitely sexy to him. “You can’t… you’re gonna kill me.”
“What? No!” Sora yelps, knocking their noses together. “Riku you can’t say things like that!”
Riku chuckles and another kiss is pressed to Sora’s lips, warm and sweet and Sora’s mind spirals away for a moment. Why is Riku talking about dying when this feels so perfect?
Riku releases his mouth and Sora whines, leaning up to chase the lips trying to leave him before he’s ready. He manages to latch on for a brief, tender press of their mouths as Riku’s chest rumbles with quiet laughter, vibrating into Sora’s sternum where they’re pressed together. Then Riku detaches their lips again and this time he leans back, putting enough distance between them that hunting down another kiss will take a bit more effort.
Maybe Riku’s sees the look on Sora’s face, screwing up with a determined glint to his eyes, calculating the distance between them to launch upwards, because the older boy actually laughs out loud and quickly draws his hand out from under Sora’s head to clap it over Sora’s mouth. “Wait, wait,” he implores but it sounds like he’s still laughing.
Sora’s eyes narrow and there’s no way that Riku doesn’t know exactly what this means he’s going to do to the warm hand resting over his lips. Sora opens his mouth and, in a little flash of wicked insight, drags his tongue very slowly and deliberately across the heart line that creases Riku’s palm.
Riku’s soft chuckles cut off abruptly and Sora grins triumphantly behind the hand still braced over his lips. And just because Riku hasn’t moved away yet, Sora does it again, purposefully slow and even including a little flick at the end that he knows Riku feels because Riku gasps audibly, his breath hitching in a way that’s making Sora really brave and a little reckless and god he hopes this will get them back to kissing.
“And you say I’m mean,” Riku breathes out.
Sora grabs the hand on his face and tosses it away with a pout. “You can’t ask me what I want and then stop , Riku!”
Well that didn’t work, because now Riku’s laughing again, shoulders shaking and Sora has a brief moment of sour disappointment before his lips twitch up at the corners. He’s really missed hearing Riku’s laughter, and now he’s getting to feel it so close and in full force and his hand is still on the back of Riku’s neck and oh man they’ve been making out on a beach and Sora’s feet are soaked .
“Oh shit! The tide! Riku we gotta get up!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, dummy,” Riku snorts. “My legs are completely in the water. You just now noticed?”
Sora rolls his eyes. “Don’t ask stupid questions when you already know the answer,” he retorts, grin widening as Riku’s hand darts in close to try and pinch his waist. Sora squirms out of the fingers trying to pincer him with a sharp laugh, and this time he’s the one pushing Riku up and away as they attempt to untangle and avoid rolling even farther out into the water.
Riku changes his grip on Sora’s hand to pull both of them upright, and as they come to standing their shoulders end up pressed close, arms connecting in a solid line down to where their hands are clasped. Now the height difference that Sora had been unabashedly envious of comes back in full force, though there is admittedly something a little thrilling in looking up at Riku’s mouth from this close, knowing that Riku has to be the one to tip down if he wants to grab any kisses again.
“Is that your ‘kiss me please’ face right now?” Riku asks with a knowing grin.
Sora starts a little (best friends have such an unfair advantage, he’s realizing), but then he smirks and leans into Riku’s chest a little more deliberately, head tipped back and eyelashes fluttering. As expected, and hoped for, Riku laughs again.
“So? What are you waiting for?”
“Such a menace,” Riku grumbles, but he’s smiling, laughter still skittering across his vocal chords. Sora feels Riku’s hand slip back into the hair at the back of his head and oh yes , drawing him up a little more, almost on his tiptoes, and Riku’s mouth is on his and this kiss is maybe better than all the rest or maybe Sora’s just going to keep thinking that every new kiss is superior to the previous ones.
Sora’s free hand grabs onto Riku’s shoulders, fingertips digging into the textured fabric of his outer vest, and his mouth falls open a little to breathe and somehow Riku takes it as a cue to press them together harder, Riku’s lips opening and then the shocking, hot sensation of Riku’s tongue glides across his bottom lip. Sora shudders and pulls back on a harsh exhale, his ears igniting again and he’s suddenly quite overwhelmed by the sheer shock of how weird but insanely good that had felt.
Sora drops his head to press his face against Riku’s chest, the motion putting his forehead against the side of Riku’s neck and his mouth right at the level of Riku’s collarbone, and while the thought is there that this is an excellent place to press more kisses… unfortunately he’s kind of shaking and a little embarrassed by how his body’s reactions are flying out of his control right now. The hand in Sora’s hair and the other one that was holding his hand both slide away, and a moment later Sora feels arms wrapping around him just below his shoulder blades, crossing at his back and holding him in a firm embrace.
“Shh… I’ve got you,” Riku says into the hair at the crown of his head. “Too much?”
Sora quickly shakes his head, then concedes a tiny nod that elicits a chuckle from the throat in front of his nose.
“We can wait, there’s no rush-”
“No!” Sora interrupts quickly, head tipping back out of the shelter of Riku’s neck. Sora’s hands have slid around the other boy’s waist almost unconsciously, skirting just above the wide belt at Riku’s hips. “Don’t… don’t hold back. Just, um… give me a moment.”
Riku grins affectionately, his arms squeezing around Sora’s back deliberately. “It’s not a race. We’ll get there eventually.”
Sora squints, brows drawing in clearly, because he’s totally fine and Riku should know better to say it like that because now it’s a challenge and Sora isn’t chickenshit, and just as his mouth opens Riku laughs again, pulling Sora forward roughly so his face is mashed up against Riku’s throat like it was a moment ago.
“Fuck, Sora. I really like you.”
The head bent next to his has placed Riku’s lips right next to his ear and Sora is unable to stop the very noticeable shiver that goes through him, or how his hands grab fistfulls of the fabric at Riku’s back, trying to drag them closer or just hold on he’s not sure, but it feels like his heart is about to burst. He thought he was happy before to have Riku back – he’d been so giddy when he’d gotten to look into Riku’s eyes again on that balcony, feeling his crush slam into him like a physical force with how much he wanted to grab and hug Riku and never let him out of his sight again. But this happiness pales in comparison. It’s so bright and overwhelming and Sora has to squeeze his eyes shut tightly, because damn he’s not going to cry about this even though he’s pretty sure Riku won’t make fun of him for something like that anymore.
“I really, really like you too,” Sora breathes back after a moment and when he’s pretty sure his voice isn’t shaking so noticeably anymore.
“Yeah. Yeah… good,” Riku exhales, so quiet and careful that Sora realizes that maybe Riku’s actually on the verge of tears too, which is so cute that Sora’s heart gives another lurch and he slings both of his arms fully around Riku’s lower back, his hands clutching at his own wrists. Speech isn’t necessary now, not for this moment when simply existing together holds more warmth and hope than Sora’s ever dreamed of finding with Riku at his side, and somehow a part of him knows, is sure beyond anything, that Riku will continue to hold him as they step forward together toward whatever this is.
The tide has risen enough to splash around the bottom of their shoes again, but Sora is unwilling to move and Riku seems to be of the same opinion, and so they stand there in silence, hugging from knee to neck while silver starlight dances behind their eyelids and plants kisses upon their twin sets of soft smiles. It’s only a short time later, when the sound of the waves has become intertwined with the memory of a promise of new beginnings made here under the stars, that Sora hears the soft clink of glass, and turns his head to see a corked bottle bobbing in the tumbling surf. Things are changing, he realizes, but Riku’s fingers stay entwined with his as he leans over the water and rescues the bottle, Sora’s free hand holding the smooth glass as Riku withdraws a rolled letter from the bottle’s narrow neck, and for once the changes are happening for the better.