Somehow I seem to be unable to write things that don't go against my OTPs. (Well, at least this is closer to RikuSora than SoraKairi is.) I don't know how other people picture Anti-Sora, but this is how I think he would be. Inspired by some pictures of deviantart.
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It tugs at his hair, once, twice, trying to get his attention – or maybe it just enjoys the fact that it can annoy him to no end and get away with it, because he can't do away with it yet, not yet, he still needs it no matter how much he hates to admit that. Like he needs the Heartless and that pathetic fool Hook and his ship, and Maleficent-
All to get her back. (No, not her. Him.)
It yanks at those silver locks again, and he can sense the fascinated look it gives him, his hair. It's amazed by the strange game the light seems to be playing with that silver hair, the kind of play it can't join in no matter how much it wants to, it just can't – a creature of shadow can't play with the light.
But with another creature of shadow it can, so it keeps pulling at those strands, and his clothes, trying to make him notice it, get him up and play. Play with me, its whole being seems to say - no, plead - but Riku doesn't feel like playing.
"Go away", he snaps at the shadow creature, attempting to shoo it away with a wave of his hand, only causing it to float backwards a little and then quickly close the distance again. From its stance Riku can read that it's not very pleased, but then again, why should he care? He doesn't care. It's just a shadow, after all. He has no reason to get friendly with a shadow (is that even possible, really? He doesn't care enough to try and find out), especially with this shadow, no, not this shadow. Ever.
"Go play with Sora", he snarls, pushing the creature aside and standing up, giving it a glare, the one he would give someone he really loathes with all his darkness-filled heart. "Since you're him, you two should get along well. Whereas I don't have time for the likes of you."
He storms off and the miserable shadow is left staring after him, floating a few inches above the ground and it almost seems to be shrinking from those words. And if Riku stayed, if he bothered to listen, he would hear the soft whimper, and actual comprehensible sentence leaving those nonexistant lips of that creature he so despises, even if it's his creation. But Riku won't stay, Riku will never know it's not an ordinary shadow ar all, because Riku doesn't care.
But oh how it wishes he did when it wails the thing it really, truly wants its silver-haired friend - no, creator - to know.
"I am not Sora."