Disclaimer: You know I don't own Kingdom Hearts. If I did, what would I be doing writing a fanfiction, hm? I'd be busy hooking up Sora and Riku in the games, sillies. Lyrics used are © Michael Buble and Electric Light Orchestra.

Author's note: Some of the dialogue isn't in quotes. It's just my style. So if you just skim paragraphs looking for quotation marks, you might not find them. You might want to look closely for that. x's are scene breaks (the scenes in italics are flashback or dream sequences).

Holy infinite thank-yous to my beta, Jenova's Fifth. This story wouldn't be half as good without all of her help, and as such you guys should all go dump praises on her. Seriously.

Black Orchid

'Days Like These'

It was just another one of those days.

Those days where you wake up and just seem to slide forever from your bed. Those days where you feel like you've converted from human flesh to some strange, disgusting liquid goo. And yet, despite all efforts to thwart it, the whole day goes like this: it's sloppy--everything is soaked with sweat, drenched in the lava-like heat of summer, and you're left feeling filled to the brim with some sort of languor. Summer days made you lazy; summer days made you sick with the sun. Summer days made you…

Riku didn't feel clever enough to finish that last sentence. His sheets clung to his skin, hot and sticky and uninviting, twisted awkwardly around his legs-his thighs, his calves, and his ankles. He stretched and he stretched, toes curling and uncurling, and he kicked and he kicked, just like swimming. Swimming through fabric and sheets and mattresses. He just wanted the covering… off.

Kick, kick, kick. The sheets tangled up in his feet, forming a large mass of cotton and polyester at the base of his bed. Since when did he need so many fucking blankets? His fan had died and it felt something like two hundred degrees in the room. Two hundred degrees, man. Two hundred fucking degrees. Even though it was more like ninety-eight.

Silver strands of hair stuck to his forehead, matted clumps forming at his temples. Pretty boy looked so unkempt. Pretty boy looked so very… not Riku. It was the summer that did it; the summer made you fat and lazy, his mother would say. Summer was for relaxing, Riku would respond. Summer was for making stupid plans and doing stupid things, because you had all that time to waste. Summer was for lying out on the asphalt driveways and playing ball in the street. Summer was for killer tans--and for killer sunburns.

Summer was for… not thinking about what summer was for.

Sunlight violated his windows, filtering through the curtains and the blinds. Stray breams flooded his vision and caressed his skin. The sun was getting intimate with him… he had to remind himself to get darker curtains. Maybe crimson, or wine red… or something obnoxious like chartreuse green. Obnoxious, huh.

One leg at a time, Riku started the process of becoming a solid again. Damn summer heat. Where was the fresh spring rain and all the pretty, pretty flowers? Pretty flowers… what was he, some sort of flaming homosexual? ...If he had to be a flower, he would have been a pansy. Except, no--really he would have been a snapdragon. Maybe a hyacinth… the hyacinth from Greek legends. Oh so wonderfully tragic. His left hand instinctively groped around on the little nightstand, feeling for that little orange cylinder. Full of pills. Full of a life he once had all planned out, now replaced by little white drugs. Slender, pale digits closed around the bottle. Pop went the top.

(Mama had a baby and its head popped off.)

Out came the pills, little white guts spilled into his hand. And he knocked back just two, swallowing dry. It was far too hot to swallow it dry.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Is the weather all you can think about? It's hot. Of course it's fucking hot in the middle of nowhere town.

The house was quiet, empty… Riku didn't live alone; after Roxas had heard what happened, he'd packed his stuff, moved in with his aunt, and dragged 'Ri-Ri' in with him. Like hell Roxas was going to see his best friend suffer after… after…

Roxas wasn't home, and neither was Tiffany. They were nice people by the general population's standards. Friendly, kind, hospitable, easygoing. In Riku's warped, powder blue opinion (yes, his opinion had its own color), they were… They were just Roxas and Tiffany. They'd extended their hand toward him, and without waiting for him to reach back, they had just grasped, clasped, and tugged. The decision had been made for Riku, and he wasn't about to go complaining about it. Sure they didn't have an air conditioner, and sure they were just a little bit too sweet (overbearing? Sweet like candy? Sweet… like two bears?), but they'd provided him with food and a roof over his head. After what happened. After what happened; his sad, sorry little mantra. The secret (which wasn't even really a secret) was buried like a worm inside his bosom. Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. Riku felt like an infected apple. A caramel-coated candy apple that's just rotted from sweetness. They couldn't help it. They didn't know any better. They were just trying to help.

He set the bottle down, pills shaking against each other. They jumped… jumped like little Mexican jumping beans. He left the cover off; how irresponsible. How lazy. How Riku.

His feet finally made contact with cool, smooth wooden floor. All of it was polished, neat, beautiful. Riku remembered the house before it had gone under construction; it had had a pleasant sort of feeling that just said 'home'. Now the few memories he had here were painted over with a coat of fresh white. Everything in the spare bedroom had been moved out. Everything… except the bed and the nightstand. And George. George his stupid little monkey that he should have just thrown in the goddamned trash already. The monkey was well worn around the edges, his fur loved down to something increasingly more dull than it'd originally been. Roxas wanted to get rid of George; George was a part of Riku. Riku had just looked his friend in the eye plainly. Oh so very plainly. Do you want to get rid of a piece of me? Riku had asked. That isn't fair, Roxas had replied. He's a piece of him, not you, he added. And then Riku told Roxas to just please, get out of the room now. And that's exactly what Roxas did.

Roxas liked to think he understood just what his friend was going through. He tried his best to console Riku in his own lovable punk ass way, but consolation was not something Riku wanted. He'd aimed for the grand prize; he didn't want to settle for a measly little two-dollar gift card that most people called 'consolation'. George, with his slightly scratched marble brown eyes, stared and understood. Because he'd been touched by the same loving hands; he'd been kissed by the same soft, pink mouth. A kiss for good luck. If good luck meant aces down the hole instead of up his sleeve; if good luck meant the opposite of what it was supposed to mean. You're going to be okay, right? You know your parents wrote you, right? Roxas reminded him of these things when he thought Riku was beginning to forget. Roxas held his hand when he thought his fingers were beginning to slip. It's no big deal, Riku would say. No big deal at all, he'd reiterate. I know, he'd say. I really know.

Riku finished the sentence, finally. Summer days made you visit psyche wards.

The room was empty. Nothing in here said 'Riku'. Not the bed, not the blankets… only the pill bottle and the depressing-looking little monkey. George knows best. George knows what to do.

xxx

"I'm sorry you… moved for him. Doesn't make sense… not at all. He loved you, right?"

"George loves me now."

"Cut that shit out, Riku. It's freaky."

"Sorry." He wasn't sorry. He'd meant what he'd said before. He didn't want to talk about anything… didn't want to talk about why he'd moved, what had made him get away, what had happened.

"I wish he could've explained," Roxas murmured.

"It's better not to know." Riku turned over on his side, pillow over his head. That meant that the discussion had essentially ended. He'd said what he wanted to say, and if Roxas pressed the issue, Riku would press him right into the mattress.

xxx

"It's better not to know," he repeated drearily, stroking his monkey's head before he stood back on two feet again. Whoa… it's harder to stand than I remember. Jelly legs… fuck. It hurts. It still hurts…

Tiffany had been helping Riku; living with a massage therapist had its perks, after all. Riku just had to deal with all the… other clients in and out of the house all the time. Business out of the house was easier for her, and if she could help it that's where she'd work. Today she was at the clinic, Riku remembered. Riku remembered because Tiffany had posted her work schedule above his bed, in case he needed some TLC—in case he needed her. But Riku didn't ask for much… mostly he just asked for nothing at all, save for peace and quiet.

His aqua eyes met with his door for the first time. A yellow Post-It was stuck to the wood, and in scratchy letters a note had been scrawled down. Riku couldn't read it from here. Numbly he continued forward. Jelly legs, jelly legs, wobble wobble wobble. The air around him felt thick, tense, like he was marinating in a vat full of solid butter. Butter… disgusting. Step step, wobble. Ack, shit, damn! crash.

Riku wasn't just unstable on his feet… Riku wasn't just clumsy with his body. That's why he'd left. But at least he was strong-willed; stubborn and ornery was more like it, honestly. Roxas suggested crutches and Riku flat out refused. The old Riku would have laughed and said, 'Honestly, Roxy, you're cramping my style.' The new, town-in-the-middle-of-nowhere Riku just tiredly, crankily refused.

xxx

"I want to go to school. Like… with somebody else."

"I'm… not quite sure what you mean?" His mother was a pretty little thing with a delicate, natural pout. Silver hair; blue eyes.

"I… you know. I need to move away from this place. He's somewhere else. A… teacher at a university. He's willing to admit me, 'cause…"

Sigh. "Riku… you know you need to clear these things by me in advance. That's why we're always planning. Your father and I-"

"Mom," Riku interrupted softly, "it's not about dad. It's…" He wrung his hands, searching desperately for the words. "…about what I really want."

She pursed her lips. "Let me talk to Catherine about it."

Riku always hated Katherine with a C.

xxx

Riku picked himself up from the floor, slowly rising to a crouch, then from there just extending up and up and up… until he was standing all the way back on his two feet. What he really wanted… it was funny; he'd been so sure of it back then. It was so vivid, clear, tangible… but now the idea of being somebody just annoyed him. Being young did strange and not-so-wonderful things to your brain. Being young made you stupid. Youth is wasted on the young.

Riku extended two pale fingers, skimming the text, feeling it and examining it before actually deciphering the letters. Roxas' scrawl used to be so endearing. Roxas' jokes used to make him laugh. It would all just take time, they said. Time to heal, time to clear his head. He didn't want to clear his head… everything he thought about was in some way connected to…

Riku, bus fare's on the table. I know you can't walk, don't be so stubborn. I'll be at the shack all day. If you're not here, I'll kill you. I know where you sleep.

Hugs and kisses,

Roxas

Somehow, Roxas had managed to cram all of that onto one little Post-It note. Some of the ink had been a little smudged, and overall the message was hard to make out. Stupid Roxas; why didn't he just use two of those obnoxious little yellow sticky reminders? Why couldn't he have just left a note for him on the table instead? Yellow would have caught his attention. Riku hated yellow.

Using the walls for support, Riku stumbled into the den and picked up the spare cash Roxas had left for him. Kind, sweet Roxas. Why couldn't Riku have loved him instead? Why couldn't Riku have just enjoyed his friend's company instead of getting involved in this ridiculous scandal and getting moved to a place he essentially hated for no good reason? And Roxas had moved down here with him so that he wouldn't be alone. That was friendship. Yet, all Riku managed to do these days was gripe at him and pick fights with him. Well... maybe not all the time. Just a good majority of it.

Money, table, clothes… shoes? Riku's feet were bare. He was wearing an outfit from yesterday that he couldn't remember having fallen asleep in. Summer made you forget, because one day blended into the next. Summer made you fat and lazy. Guess what, Mom? Summer makes you heartbroken and crippled. Riku's white tank top and blue shorts were fine to go outside in… the boy simply ran one of Tiffany's combs through his slightly sticky hair and slipped on Roxas' shoes.

Sometimes he didn't feel like Riku.

Sometimes he felt like he could just blend into the wall, and that would be fine. That would be just peachy. If only Roxas and Tiffany would stop their worrying. He was fine. Fine fine fine, he insisted. And still they insisted, in turn, that he wasn't.

Riku hobbled to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and twisted. It was sweltering. Just melt-your-face-right-off sweltering. Riku imagined his face just sliding down to the ground, forming a pale-looking puddle on the brick walkway. That would just be so pleasant. He wondered if his face would look like a smiley face or a frowny face. Perhaps it was funny that his first concern wasn't that he might be without a face at all…just what that face might look like on the ground. God, why do I have to be so fucking… different? No wonder he left. He's not coming back. Not ever. Riku began hobbling over to the bus stop, slow and steady… slow and steady; he'd only fallen two times, which was a new record for him.

xxx

The bus ride was, for lack of a better word, awkward. Almost freakishly awkward. He'd paid the fare and then he'd scuffled down the aisles, looking for a seat that looked the most nondescript. Out of the way. Fourth row all the way to the left. Empty. Riku had almost fallen trying to get into his seat, and people gave him sideways glances that made him feel nervous. Great, Roxas. Leave him in a public place full of people he didn't know. He was just trying to help, Riku reminded himself, folding his arms into his torso and bringing his knees to his chest. People stared because he looked different. Silver hair--heh--isn't that just so cool? Riku avoided eye contact. The bus hopped over a couple bumps, jostling its passengers. Bump, bump, thunk, clunk. Riku clutched his knees, fingernails digging into his kneecaps. Stop acting so nervous. They're just people. People, just like you. …But before, you had him to protect you. Or just the notion of him. He'd stepped into Riku's life and then just… stepped out. Just like that. All of Riku's plans had unraveled before his very eyes. That was all right, though, wasn't it?

"You have Tiffany and I. Who needs stupid old L-" Roxas had tried to cheer him up; he'd stopped himself before finishing, though. Riku still winced at the uttering of just that one little letter; he didn't want to ever hear that name again. Too bad, so sad--he had picked the town where he lived. He couldn't escape him even if he wanted to.

The scenery went by just like a movie set in sepia tone. This town… it was suburban, yet at the same time Riku could envision giant tumbleweeds bouncing across the roads and near people's porches and white picket fences. Bump, bump, went the bus. Riku pressed his face against the glass, closing his eyes. At least, in here, it was air-conditioned. At least the shack had air conditioning. He was just waiting for the next stop, just waiting…

There had been a kid beside him wearing a big smiley-face shirt. It was supposed to make you happy. Riku frowned like a grumpy old man and the kid shied away--his aisle had thus been vacated. He liked being alone… nobody to bother him but his own thoughts. Nobody to judge him, to poke fun at his differences… Since when had he begun thinking that the whole world was out to get him… like it was their mission? Bump, bump, bump, shh. Creeeeaaaaaak. Oh, look, the stop. Funny how time went on like that. And in a sea of unfamiliar faces, Roxas was waiting for him to get off the bus. Charming Roxas; lovely Roxas; sweet, innocent Roxas. What the hell was wrong with him? Riku couldn't love him because he was innocent. Because he was too damn innocent, and after what had been done to him… Riku didn't know the meaning of innocence anymore. Some people were getting off the bus now. Riku was included in this minority… so he got off the bus, too. And he didn't fall this time.

"Hey, look." Roxas greeted him with a hug, which Riku returned with awkward affection and then just leaned up against his friend in defeat. Take the high road home, he thought idly. Look at what? he thought after that. "You made it in one piece, it looks like."

"Does it?"

"…does it what?"

"Does it look like it, I mean." Riku, out of instinct, slung his arm over Roxas' shoulders. It was an old habit of his, one he hadn't broken quite yet. They weren't moving at the moment; the shack was just in sight, though. Not that far. Funny, the shack wasn't really a shack at all. It was some sort of record store meets coffee shop that Tiffany seemed rather fond of. Roxas had a steady job there, too. It almost made Riku feel bad for lazing about all day. Almost.

Roxas blinked. Several times, in fact, and then he gave a snort. "No, Riku, I just said that to be totally funny. The heat really is scrambling your brains."

"I thought I was melting, earlier," Riku said, and afterwards wondered why he'd even bothered.

"Aww, melty Riku ice cream. Don't worry… air conditioning will solidify you again."

"Roxas?"

"Mmhm?"

They were walking now, one lazy, casual step at a time. Broiling summer heat cooked their teenaged bodies. Roxas was too cute. He'd fuck over anyone who ever tried to hurt him, he'd decided. Just randomly, out of the blue. As blue as the blue, blue sky.

"You are one strange son of a-"

"Thanks," Roxas cut in. "I really appreciate that." He laughed. Riku attempted a laugh and sort of ended up snorting--and Roxas laughed at that, too.

Limp, limp, limp. Everything's going to be fine, they said. Fine fine fine fine fine. He'll walk just perfectly, they said. It'll just take a little while. Muscle rehabilitation, massage therapy… it's a real miracle, but he'll still walk. You're a real miracle, boy, they said. It was a miracle Riku didn't have it in him to hit girls. He was sure he might have killed the nurse. If he could have even got up to do so, ha. That was really something; just rich.

He remembered the days when he, the man with soft lips and hair that smelled like strawberries, would tell Riku, "I'm pining." And Riku would smile, laugh over the phone and say, "Me too." And then they wouldn't talk about pining after admitting it. They'd talk about college and coffee and pink being a 'manly' color; the smell of spring and school vacation and C.S. Lewis' Prince Caspian… and he'd say oh, hey, did you see that movie the other day? And Riku would pace about while talking, not knowing what to do with himself. Nervous nervous nervous. He'd talk about the beach and how much he missed it, and Riku would mention that there wasn't any water here, either. Not even a public pool for miles. And he'd say something about how Riku must be all dry and shriveled up, and Riku made a face and reassured him that he could still get it up for him. And they both laughed again -- oh how Riku missed laughing and the sound of his laugh. Riku wasn't mushy (mushy brought to mind old, moldy fruit) or poetic, he just knew it was… different than anything he'd ever heard before. Not like bells; bells were stupid and hurt his ears and reminded him of church. Not like a melody… no, just like warm, running water.

And he missed that.

But reality was calling. There was no more time to remember that they'd said their I miss you's and I love you's and I'll call you tommorow's. There was no time to remember the way he -- him with the chocolate locks and the soft, running water laugh -- would press his lips against the receiver and say 'muah', and how Riku would say 'muah' back before hanging up the phone. No time at all.

"Tiffany called… she said she's just going to spend the day at the clinic; something came up, someone needs her there… can't remember the specifics. But that doesn't matter. Point is, you're staying with me today."

"Lovely," Riku responded, his tone dry and lacking any semblance of enthusiasm.

"You say that like somebody who's just been told they've got some sort of disease."

"And are you, Roxas? Some kind of disease, that is?"

"That's yet to be confirmed." Roxas grinned and shook his head. They were only a few feet from the door now. The silence between them extended for a couple meters, but Riku could hear the faint hint of hustle and bustle inside the building. It wasn't a shack, but it sure was sound-proofed like one. (That is, to say, not at all).

"I just don't want to be in your way," Riku cut in awkwardly. Limp limp limp. He felt like a pathetic, wounded animal, limping away. Just like Igor and his hunched back. Roxas didn't really seem to notice.

"What are you, stupid? You're never in my way. Not mine nor my aunt's." The grammar in that sentence was wrong, Riku was sure. It almost made him cringe, but… Roxas had said it and he wasn't going to un-say it (and by the looks of it he wasn't going to correct himself). "You've gotten so weird, Ri."

"It makes me… uncomfortable." He did this weird sort of thing with his shoulders that could have been considered a shrug, but his arm over Roxas' shoulder mostly got in the way. "I'm not used to this place yet."

There was another ill-at-ease silence, as if a ghost had just drifted right on, brushing their skin and traveling right through them. Roxas shifted. Riku shifted.

"Well you're not in my way...you're never in my way," Roxas repeated. They were approaching the door, every so slowly. Riku's limping was less pronounced, less… Well, you couldn't tell he had broken both his legs the year before. Now wasn't that a funny story? The little family (as much as Roxas, Tiffany and Riku could be considered one) avoided the subject like the plague.

"Okay," Riku answered, even if it wasn't, and that was the end of that. Why do you lie, Riku? His mind nagged him. Because it's easy, he'd reply.

The doors opened just like floodgates; he could hardly remember Roxas even having opened them before they were greeted by a pleasant gush of chilly air and a rather unpleasant amplification of noise. Chatting, blaring music, yelling orders--headache central. It almost made him forget about the dull aching in his legs and the fact that he felt as if he'd turn into a human puddle at any moment. Almost this, almost that. Almost almost almost. Never completely, never all the way, always always always not quite right. Could Riku never be satisfied with what the world gave him?

He limped in, greeted by a visceral rush of colors and shapes of all shades and sizes. Overwhelming. He'd never seen this much yellow in his whole life… or red, or purple or green, or…

Roxas ushered him in before he was completely overwhelmed by the sheer… newness of the environment. It wasn't the shack he remembered. It was all re-done, painted over, just like Tiffany's house… just like Tiffany's house, except a thousand times more insufferable. God, how he hated yellow; it was like one big, ugly eye-sore.

"We gave it a little make-over," Roxas announced over the pulse of the throbbing, ear-pounding music. How did people eat here? How could people stand it? It was more like… strip mall meets rave party. "I guess it's a little loud; don't worry, I'll fix it. I saved you a seat. Ack, just one second." Roxas was saying a million different things at once, and the music was drowning them all out. A little loud?

Usher, usher, usher. Shuffle, shuffle, step step. Here's your seat Riku, don't worry I'll be right back. Oh and just… oh, nevermind, I'll be right back. Shuffle shuffle shuffle away.

Well… Riku seated himself at the wooden table on the quaint little wooden chair. What was this, Goldilocks and the Three Bears? He tossed his pretty little head, elbows resting on the table's glossy, polished surface, jaw resting in his palms. Pound, pulse, throb went the incessant noise. Riku was most certainly not going to spend the whole day here while Roxas worked his shift. No way, Jose. No way in hell.

Strip mall had been a little too… generous of a description. The Shack (its appropriate name, capitals included) was just a little place that was all sort of… open. There was a right side of the room, a left side of the room, and it was all… open. There seemed no other accurate description. The walls were yellow. Beanbag chairs in the corners were assorted primary colors; all the racks of CDs were situated on the right side of the room. In the middle of the room there was this… this…

Riku wasn't sure how to describe it.

There were two steps leading upward, another little platform-floor with more tables (made out of metal) and little chairs. At the farthest back point of the center of the room there was a long, sleek counter and a cash register. At all sides of the room there were speakers, and that… was probably quite apparent, judging by the noise.

All around him were people. People perusing, browsing, people loitering, people drinking iced coffee, people drinking smoothies… all sorts of people, people, people.

xxx

"The shack is really cozy. You'll like it."

"Cozy… cozy like how?"

"It's just a little bookstore not too far from my house. Hardly anyone visits… It's quiet, but not library quiet." He was prattling on; warm running water take me away, Riku wanted to say. Drown me…

"Quiet is nice," Riku said. "I like quiet. I want to visit… it must be nothing like Georgiatown."

"Georgiatown, huh?"

"You know, the stupid name my friends and I came up with for this boring place?"

"Right, Georgiatown. And little ol' George. How's he doing?"

"Good," Riku said.

xxx

Riku noticed their uniforms were yellow, too. Roxas' was not… Roxas' was black and white; Roxas' was simple, proper--it made his 'manager of the shack' status more apparent. A white tee and black shorts, decorated with the company's logo on said attire. And he had a blue little sticker on the right of his breast that read, 'Hi, my name is ROXAS'. Roxas was the perfect manager. Roxas was…

All of the employees wore yellow. Yellow tops with white shorts or skirts. And those maddening yellow tops had the same huge smiley face on them as the kid on the bus had had. Smiley face, smiley face, get away from me… what is it with this fad? What is it with this town? They had matching stickers, just like Roxas', except… well, except they said their own names, and not Roxas'. Like the one kid with the bright blue eyes, and the brown brown hair… brown like mud pies, Riku thought. Brown like the hair that smelled like strawberries. Brown like… the not-so-poet was running out of similes. And, distractedly, he wondered what Sora's hair smelled like. 'Hi, my name is SORA' his name tag said. Sora sorted CDs. Riku noticed the music had grown faintly, faintly quieter. At least now he didn't want to vomit.

'Hi, my name is SORA' turned around. He was close, not too far away from Riku's table… and he reminded Riku of better days. Prettier days. Spring days and strawberries and cute little fair prizes like George. But Sora wore that stupid yellow shirt and that dumb little name-tag, and humorously large shoes. People these days. People and their fashion. Riku didn't have the right to complain; he was being taken care of. He was being pampered and watched over, and Tiffany and Roxas were doing the best damn job they could manage. Riku… Riku still didn't appreciate it, in a way. He wanted them to stop trying. It made him feel like… like he stuck out like some sort of sore thumb; some sort of random, agonizing annoyance. His mother had always called him spoiled, but everyone… they just didn't understand that he didn't want what most people wanted. He was exceedingly low-key; when everyone around him tried to make him happy with their magnificent gestures of niceness… it just bothered him in the worst kind of way. People didn't understand that he was simple and he didn't need anything elaborate. Yet they would try, try, try anyway.

The music was… softer now. The melody had mellowed out, sort of like how a brook babbles over rocks. It was slower, more tolerable, more… Riku. Stupid Roxas paid attention to everything, didn't he? No, wait… it was Sora who was fiddling with the radio now. Sora, the boy who looked like his breath-taking, heart-stealing, perfect perfect perfect lover. Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore… hold me close, sway me more. Riku closed his aqua, aqua eyes and let a sigh slip through his pretty pink lips. Roxy, I'm bored, he'd say at times like this. Roxas would make a silly face, and then he would try to find something fun for them to do (which usually ended up being nothing at all. They liked to spend their time doing absolutely nothing -- though maybe smores were included into the 'nothing' package, occasionally). Then they'd talk about life, and about Riku's lover, and about how Riku was going to move pretty far away. Mostly, though, they'd talk about nothing… nothing at all. And Riku's dad would plan a future for his son, and Roxas' dad wouldn't care either way. They were just kids. But Riku had some semblance of a plan. Back then, anyway.

It's not about dad. It's about… what I really want.

"You must be Riku." He talked just above the music, voice a thrumming lullaby. Riku's eyelids lifted, revealing his less-than-enthralled gaze. You must be Riku… who the hell goes around saying things like that? It jostled the silver-haired boy a little, though. Boy, boy… he should have been considered an adult, but by all respects was still a child. Riku didn't respond. He could have been a smartass and said, no, sorry, my name isn't Riku… but he didn't. He chose to say nothing at all, blinking.

Nonplussed, Sora stretched out his hand in a sort of greeting. A truce, perhaps? Considering how Riku acted, that's all it could be. "I'm Sora," he said. It was easy… easy like honey that sweetens bitter tea.

"I see that," Riku said, eyes hooded by black lashes. He didn't take Sora's hand; the brunette took the hint, dropping his hand easily back to his side. No harm done. "Your shoes are untied," he added as an afterthought, because they were.

"Huh? Oh, right." And Sora bent down to tie his shoelaces, managing to hit his head on the table as he went down. "Oww--mmm damn," he mumbled, rubbing his head, and then proceeded to double-knot those troublesome laces. They were green, his shoes were white. White like a sort of dirty piece of paper. He stood, brushing his clothes down with his hands, and smiled a stupid little smile. It would have been charming if it didn't remind Riku of… "Thanks," he said. "Can I help you with anything today? We've got specials and we've got smoothies," he offered.

He must get tired of saying that, Riku thought. He wondered exactly how many times Sora had listed the specials of the day to potential customers. He wouldn't make him say it again. "I'm good, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Sure I'm sure."

"I can't get you water or anything?"

Riku blinked. Those blue eyes were just… they were studying him; as blue as the ocean on a blue, blue day. "Said I'm good," he repeated. He could have used a glass of water, in all actuality. It was already cool in here, though. The air conditioning blew in currents all around the open space, just like an icy, reassuring hand on Riku's shoulder.

"Okay--I'll be here if you need anything." Sora turned to leave, pivoting on the balls of his feet.

"Wait."

"Mm?" He glanced over his shoulder.

"Did Roxas ask you to check on me?"

"Nope," he responded with a laugh, scratching his head. His laugh was like the pitter patter of rain in the middle of a summer's day. "You're a customer, and I work here. I'd be fired if I let customers sit around waiting all day."

"I wasn't waiting," Riku said.

"I'm not a mind-reader," Sora countered. His smile was lazy, slow, genuine. "Like I said… if you need me, just give me a ring-a-ling-ding." He turned again, and this time flitted away.

He… Sora just left him alone. Did he know that Riku didn't want to talk? Had he been the first to take the hint that… maybe, just maybe, he didn't want anything? Huh. The corner of Riku's lip twitched up into a slight smile. Mud, honey, and rain… lazy, lazy summer days. Sora was him all over again. Maybe it hurt a little bit, but in a way it made him smile.

By this time Roxas poked his head out of the storage room. Riku hadn't noticed, but he'd been tending customers; a few had left, but now a line had formed by the counter in the middle of the room. Sora had trotted off to make smoothies. Riku looked away, gaze wandering, mind following after. What am I doing here, anyway? I promised I wouldn't…do it again. I don't need to be watched anymore. I… hey, there's a stain on that bean bag chair. Along with a stain there was a girl, sitting pretty with another, playing a game of cards. One had red hair, and the other had brown. The brown-haired girl reminded him of… puppies.

He just wanted to go home, air conditioning or not. Sora or not. Girls that looked like puppies and smooth, smooth music or not.

When we dance you have a way with me. Stay with me, sway with me.

Riku stretched, sighed, and folded his hands together, threading his fingers together and resting them on his lap. He was sitting still, barely fidgeting, just like a good little boy should. Riku could remember being a good little boy. It was a long, long time ago, but... it was there in his memory. Somewhere in his memory. Along with visions of Dr. Seuss and piñatas and visits to the beach. He was such a good, good little boy… maybe he'd stopped trying when his mother wasn't a good, good mother anymore. Ha, ha ha. Riku didn't feel like making excuses for her anymore; he pursed his lips and fixed his gaze on the puppy-girl.

"Got any sixes?" she asked quite plainly.

"You cheat," the red-head whined, forked over her card, and seemed to sulk.

"How about any twos?"

"Go fish," she mumbled, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were as blue, blue, blue as Sora's. Why were there so many blue eyes in this town? The brown-haired girl seemed to be the only one with green eyes.

Their game stopped for a moment; Riku's observation stopped for a moment. Riku and the girl stared for a moment, met gazes, and then looked away. Sora was there, tending to their orders. Maybe that's what made Riku look away.

The music faded away, and Riku laid his head on the table. Summer days were for doing nothing, nothing at all… summer days, sleep the day away. One summer dream, one summer dream... One summer dream, one summer dream. The music here was just… just…

Just like his day. Days like these, they go on forever. Days like these, people walk in and out, and in and out again.

xxx

"Will you come home, Riku? You're running out of excuses… just come home again."

His thumb slid over the device; he was pondering, pondering… should he hang up, or should he face the conversation? "I'm not going to come home, mother. I'm going to go to school here. I told you… Aunt Catherine said it'd be good for me."

"Well Aunt Catherine's not here anymore, is she?"

Wait… What was that supposed to mean?

"Mom?"

Pause.

"I miss you. I want to come home, I just… can't." Riku couldn't help but murmur.

Click.

"Mom?"

xxx

"Hey, sleepy-head. Is lazing about all you ever do?" Somebody was talking. Riku lifted his heavy eyelids, bleary vision taking in a figure. Why did everyone's eyes have to be so blue? But it was Roxas. Endearing, like-a-brother Roxas.

"It's a miracle I could sleep with all this noise," Riku murmured, lifting his tired head, silver hair ruffled and mussed.

"You look like a molting chicken," Roxas laughed. "I've got lunch break," he added.

"Roxy, I wanna go home."

"I'd love to let you, but-"

Another song was playing. Sleep made Riku feel so, so delirious.

"Why can't you just come home? I'm tired, I'm feeling shitty, I'm…" he sounded aggravated. Was he lashing out at Roxas for no particular reason? Why yes, yes he was. Just like a little, immature child.

Roxas sighed, looking quite defeated. He raised his hands and let them drop again, slack at his sides, limp and hanging. Riku appreciated the fact that Roxas' uniform was neither yellow nor smiling at him.

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe Sora can manage the shack for a little while."

Sigh, sigh. "How d'you know him?"

"Family friend," Roxas answered with a slight smile. "He's nice--I trust him."

Riku ran a hand through his hair again, fingers separating silver strands. "Tell me more about him later," Riku surprised himself by saying.

"O…kay," Roxas answered, puzzled, but turned and wandered off.

The brown-haired girl and the red-head were gone. Several other customers came and went, but they weren't people Riku would remember. They weren't people that would understand. They were just… people.

And when Roxas came back hailing good news, Riku just sighed. Again and again with the sigh. But he tried to smile just a little.

"Just until Tiffany comes back," Roxas murmured.

"I can take care of myself," Riku mumbled back.

"Sure you can," Roxas finished, but didn't mean it.

I think he likes you, he'd told Sora. And Sora just smiled and asked, Really? but it was the kind of response that made Roxas sure that Sora wouldn't bother Riku. Riku always came to hate those he liked… because those that he liked just bombarded him until he began to hate them. Riku had even hated Roxas at first. At first.

"Sure I can," Riku unnecessarily repeated, filling up the silence.

And they took the bus home, and they watched television until Tiffany arrived. And then Roxas turned to leave again. And then Riku asked him again to tell him more about Sora later.

Then Roxas said okay, like he had before, and left for the shack for the last time that night.

Okay, Riku thought, all the while Tiffany made dinner.

A/N: So, that's the end of chapter one. The ending's supposed to be fast like that. This is a really, really new style for me, so... tell me if you like it or not, yeah? Also, please… if you find some error in the feeling of realism, feel free to tell me. I'm all for constructive criticism. And, in general, I'd appreciate it if you could share your opinion of the fic. Cliché, overdone, flimsy? Boring, moves too slow? Love it or hate it? Lay it on me with some reviews, please and thank you.