I felt the anger spill up in my chest, listening to that voice denying all of the things that were so true. I wanted to run, I wanted to- to… I wanted to yell. But it wasn't in me; I couldn't yell at Riku, no matter how much I wanted to. My eyes slowly slid to the floor until…
"I don't deserve you."
It boiled hard in my chest for a long moment before I couldn't stop myself. I just heard the noise, the loud sounds of my hand across his cheek. What else was I supposed to do? And I hadn't even wanted to. I could feel my look of fear come over my face before I could stop it. When I looked to the skin I had marred, I felt myself recoil, pulling away. I could hear a slight whisper come out of his mouth, as soft and lost to the wind as a dog whistle.
Trying to shift away from the teenager before me, I had no other choice to start hard on running. The heart in my chest was running too fast, and I didn't know how to handle it. Even though I had hit him, I knew that I was going to cry. I didn't get room to cry! What kind of… friend was I? Had I really been denied that way? With the water walling down my cheeks, I tried to get away.
My shoe slid in the sand, my body moving forward hard. The beach was coming up to meet me, but there was a tight grasp about my upper arm. The hand was cold against my skin, the fingers gripping as if to bruise me. It was possessive, for lack of a better word. I felt my feet come back under me, supporting my weight. What was this? With my eyes shut, I felt him pull me close to that broad, muscled chest. He felt large and strong, and yet so afraid, what with that flittering heart beat.
"Sora." Stop. Don't say my name like that! Not with your voice… "Sora, stop." I hadn't noticed my fingers, trying to push him away.
"Riku-! I-… Let go." I brought my hand up again, not to hit him, but to push gently against his mouth, trying to pry him away. Before I knew it, we were wrestling in the sand, hands gripping at clothes and fists slamming against ribs and collarbones. By the time I was on top of him, tears were running down my face, and I couldn't bring myself to hit his face, though he had nailed me right in the forehead.
There were things that words just couldn't describe, and for some reason… the pain made perfect sense, just something. I felt my fingers dig into his shirt, jerking him up hard to slam my forehead against his. The both of us groaned, and I'm sure he felt that same stinging pain that I did. I rolled off of him and crouched in the sand, covering my forehead and leaning my head toward the sand. What the hell had I done that for? I saw him rolling over from the corner of my eye, and I just couldn't care.
"You don't know everything, you know! There will always be something that doesn't make sense, okay?! Don't try to pretend that you're strong! You don't have to anymore!" I was shouting before I even knew what I was saying. I could see the ocean before me, so I must have sat up a little, my eye starting to swell. I was beginning to feel the pain in my ribs, all over my arms and up and down my legs. I could see him trying to nurse at his own wounds, a bruise starting to form on his forehead. Did I have one too?
"Shut up! You can't always act so cheery! It makes me sick!" Cold. That was cold. I watched as his eyes widened, and I guess mine did too. I felt myself trembling, and before I could do anything else, I walked over, fast, unable to stop. I kicked him hard in the side, screaming as loud as I could-
"Fine! If I make you sick, then- then… I won't bug you anymore, considering what a burden I am to you!"
I could feel my blood rushing like ice, the sticky crimson slowly trickling over my nose. I could feel as the warmth slid over my lips. I walked away, tearing the rest of my sleeve away where it had ripped and chucking it hard at the sand. Riku had bought me this shirt…
How could this hurt so much? It wasn't the limping that made me cry; it wasn't the broken fingers that made me want to stop breathing. I made him sick, I made Riku sick… Of course I did. Who wasn't tired of me? I couldn't think of anyone that actually wanted to hang out with me… I must have been pretty annoying. Walking into my own home, I saw my mom and dad at the table, my brother studying over a thick textbook. I didn't watch, but I could hear three chairs push back, one actually hitting the floor.
Their hands were warm against me as they tried to get me to sit. What was wrong with me? Everything felt numb, and I could hear the words in my head. "…makes me sick!"
Did he really think that? Mostly… I wondered-
How did people deal with heartbreak?
I felt my shoulders start to jump with tears, sniffling and wiping my cheeks despite how much it stung on my fingers and on my face.
"Sora?" Roxas asked softly, leaning down in front of me, a cold washcloth running up my cheek and up to my forehead. "What happened?" I looked up slowly, and I could tell instantly that he already knew. Was it that obvious? Maybe…
