irrelevant title is completely irrelevant. also, i disclaim, and you are hereby warned that this is slightly gay and entirely incoherent.
Flashflashflash; the cameras and their holders pressing against the windows of the car, the driver's hand on the steering wheel is white-knuckled and I can tell he's struggling to keep his cool in the face of relentless paparazzi. I should say something, calm him down, I know I should, but the lights are changing from white to grey to black; a quick succession of monochrome rainbows, a turning prism filmed in greyscale. Someone is talking, voice hushed and soothing like comforting a child who's had a nightmare. Maybe that's what this is – just a nightmare I can't wake up from.
"Come on, Sora. Look at me," the voice is saying. I want to but I don't know which way it's coming from – all around, behind me in front of me inside me? I decide to look away from the sporadic-constant flashes, towards the other side of the car where there are eyes burning like electricity in turquoise. I move towards them, auto-pilot fully engaged and stare until they hurt to look at. They belong to a person, maybe – with arms that wrap around and hold me still. They might have starlight silver hair, falling over their shoulders and into their electric eyes and shimmering when they move.
I hear my own voice, quiet and broken and saying "Tell me a story, please Riku." And that's not his name but he smiles at me anyway; doesn't care that I'm calling him old names from old lives and old loves, just smiles that same smile and says those same old words: "Okay, I'll tell you a story. Promise you won't go away though." I can feel my mouth tilt up even though I didn't tell it too, and answer even though I don't know what to say. "I promise." The words linger in the air, just in front of my eyes – shimmering golden and true and I don't know if I'm lying or not.
His story is something I know – something real and fantastic; about boys with impossible dreams, about how one was the darkness and the other was his light and they saved each other from oblivion. I smile even though it hurts, splits my lip and drips crimson onto my shirt. Syllables form behind evanescent kisses as the cameras fade and merge into blurred out, neon rainbows – love in speeding technicolor and bloodstained lips. Three words, repeated with unwavering certainty.
He's crying when things start disappearing – his eyes are lost but I can see the tears on his cheekbones. "Shh, Riku. It's all right. I'm not gonna leave." My hand reaches up of its own accord, trailing down the skin I can't see. I still don't know if I'm telling the truth – I want to believe I am, want him to believe me. He pulls me into his chest and I cling to his shirt, silently panicking as the entire world goes dark. "I'm sorry, Sora."
I can still hear his heart beating in the black.
what is this shit.