All of the Angles
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Can you see the whole picture?
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"I would do anything for you Sora."
"Where is this coming from Roxas?"
"I just wanted you to know."
"…Oh."
"…"
"Roxas…you would tell me if something was wrong, right? We are brothers, so we shouldn't hide anything from each other."
"Of course…"
"Then why do I get the feeling that-"
"Everything's fine. Just trust me, please. I…you're everything to me-"
"Roxas?!"
"I-"
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Sometimes…it really felt that Sora was living behind an opaque looking glass, sentenced to watch everything through an unclear surface, like everything was a distorted image. The smile on people's faces…a mere faux mask to hide the true emotions within. It was pessimistic to believe that people never genuinely smiled, but it was so rare, so difficult to come across that Sora had resigned himself to being content with life's phony masquerade. He didn't frequently think like this-quite the opposite really, but it was that particular day of the year, and life seemed to be just a little bit more unbearable. The heart that pumped life throughout his body with instinctual zeal seemed to slow to the melancholic tempo of a monochrome; lethargy seized his limbs fiendishly; and the persistent tears seemed to spill on their own accord despite how many times he told himself that he wouldn't cry anymore. Oh yes, today was that day.
The day his brother died.
Perhaps suggesting death was an exaggeration on Sora's part when the authorities sympathetically labeled it as "missing", but it mind as well felt like Roxas died after all the time has passed. Three years was it? No, it had to be longer than that. The pain and guilt that had developed over the years had festered into an agonizing hole in his chest. But he still smiled, always made sure that every time this day passed, every time it felt like he was drowning during the first few hours of this horrible day, there was a smile on his face. It was for Roxas's sake. His brother always insisted that his smile could even bring happiness to the dying. God, Sora could remember laughing at the ridiculousness of the sentiment, having not absorbed the seriousness in that usually quiet, thoughtful voice as he shook his head in disbelief. And Roxas, being himself, would just frown and have the most peculiar emotion drifting in those sapphire- blue eyes.
Shame how they been twins and Sora never quite understood him, with that silent, enigmatic personality of his. It was a shame that when Sora finally realized there was something wrong, Roxas was gone and Sora was left the loneliest person in the world, feeling as if half of his soul had been torn out.
"You have one new message."
Melancholic, ocean-blue eyes shifted towards the bedside table where his phone lies vibrating against the wood, demanding his attention with its persistent noise. Fingers closed around the cool, onyx-black plastic, already tracing out the smooth texture of the touchscreen as he brought it to his line of vision, reading the message.
Come over. You shouldn't be spending this day alone.-Riku
He should have expected this from his best friend, being the considerate and understanding person that he was, always having Sora's welfare in mind. The brunette often wandered what he did to deserve such a person like that in his life, but thought better of it and just learned to appreciate this small grace. He didn't have many friends-besides Kairi who was also his best friend-and cherished the ones that he had. You didn't know when they would suddenly get taken away from you.
'Don't think about it. Don't think about it...,' Sora pleaded mentally to himself.
Who was he kidding? He could never forget that Roxas was gone.
Gone forever!
Phone in hand, and not feeling the will to move of his bed, Sora rolled into a sitting position with much difficulty and proceeded to throw on something decent for going outside for the unfittingly sunny day. A hoodie and some beige shorts later, the brunette was traveling downstairs, momentarily pausing with one hand on the rail as he blinked at his parents talking amicably about something in the kitchen. He didn't know why he always set himself up for this, the disappointment and frustration tinged with sorrow when he sought any recognition on their faces for the gravity of this day. Denial was a persuasive mistress, yet Sora had long fallen out of her charms, out of telling himself that they did care that one of their sons was forever to be missing. That his body may be somewhere disposed on the cold hard earth, unmoving and perhaps already a decomposed feast for hungry little organisms. Sora was tired of telling himself this painful lie repeatedly on this day and making up excuses as to why they seemed to show not even an iota of concern.
They simply just didn't care.
And God did Sora hate to admit it-how could he be so pathetically blind?-but they never really cared about Roxas in the first place. He was too different-too abnormal. But what did it matter? So what if Roxas had been reclusive to point where he was purely anti-social and didn't have nary a friend? So what if he had somewhat of an attachment to Sora that could be borderline suffocating and maybe just slightly creepy? So what if he had a tendency to sneak out at night to do whatever he did that left traces of blood on his clothing? Just because he had his quirks didn't give their parents the right to alienate and act like he barely existed. But no matter how much he saw how they treated him, like he was a stranger, or Roxas's own callous interaction with them, Sora always pretended that everything was fine, that their family was perfect. Always running from the truth out of fear and irresponsibility had been common with him during those grim days. And look where it's gotten him. Bereft of his twin.
The world was a one of fools and he was the biggest fool of them all.
"Mom, dad, I'm going to Riku's."
Two pairs of eyes, one set a hazelnut brown, the other a steady blue, both gave him their full attention, wearing smiles that disgruntled the brunette, causing him to avert his gaze towards the door-to sanity maybe. How could they be so freaking happy on this day? How could they not still be looking for him? How-
"Just call when you get there."
"'Kay…"
Staying in that house any longer would probably make him snap, so without any further prompting, Sora flew out the door without even a second glance, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his shorts. The bright, taunting glare of the sun was in heavy contrast to Sora's mood and he found himself pulling the edges of his hood down, as if trying to seek shelter from the cruelness of the world.
Nothing much happened in this small suburban place called Traverse Town. Everyone knew each other and grow up with one another like they were family, and Sora always felt like he was a part of this small community. But why was his brother singled out? Why was his brother the anomaly? The moment the word of his disappearance was made public-it was impossible to hide things here-gossip flew around like a bunch of wasps seeking vengeance for their shattered nest. So many things were said, so many outrageous, infuriating things that Sora felt like he would go mad unless the world righted itself. People were more excited that something interesting was happening than the actual fact that a 15 year old boy was missing and could possibly be hurt while they were busy hissing amongst themselves. No one felt his pain, except Riku and Kairi who at least cared about Roxas disappearance in the way it directly affected him.
Why was it that Sora felt he looked harder than the police when it was their job to put all their efforts into serving the innocent?
Because no one cared. No one gave a damn about the black sheep struggling to fit in amongst the sea of white.
Fingers tightened in reaction to the direction his thoughts were heading, feeling the surmounting fury, the indignation as he stomped angrily down the sidewalk leading to his friend's house. Just a couple of blocks away, but the journey was made longer by the emotional strain this day brought. Concentration was hard to maintain to the point where Sora felt his vision flicker for only a moment. But a moment was all it took for Sora's world to topple as a sudden force collided with him with shocking brutality, gravity maliciously snagging onto him as he fell backwards. Instinct and reflex saved him from suffering a concussion as his hands caught his fall and his bottom absorbed the shock of the impact, wincing when skin tore of his palms from heated friction. Jeez, what the hell? Why was it so hard for people to pay attention?
"You should really watch…where…you're…"
The words died in his throat, his heart skipped a beat the moment his azure eyes traveled up and took in the appearance of the person standing a part from him. Fear, so utterly terrifying and overwhelming, swelled within him with such velocity that the signals in Sora's brain miscommunicated to the point where comprehension wasn't even feasible. The fear wasn't inspired because his mind presumed the man posed a threat to him. No, it was the sheer fact that the man himself was exuding so much of it that it itself was contagious, sinking in through the pores of Sora skin. Blood-stained once stylized golden hair in the likeness of crimson streaks; frantic, petrified amber eyes roved in their sockets with frightening speed; the clothing garbing him tattered in smelling of all kinds of acrid odors; and once healthy pale skin was decorated in bloody sores, multi-colored bruises, infected wounds, and a nice coating of filth. Before Sora was the walking embodiment of fear, given flesh and substance so it could interact with the unfortunate. This was a human who had been driven to extremes and barely survived. Yet Sora, no matter how dependable his memory was, couldn't identify the man for the life of him. Everyone in this quiet town knew each other. This guy was an alien. An intruder.
Yet also the most terror-stricken person Sora's ever seen.
Despite the hissing of his better judgment and self-preservation, Sora gazed at the man, barely managing not to avert his anxious gaze, as he got to his feet, burning palms and all. Even if those bloodshot eyes bore relentless back at him, it was almost superficial. They didn't see; didn't fathom the living, breathing person standing in the way, as if Sora just wasn't there. Beside himself with tentative concern, Sora reached out gently to touch the man, but the blonde took a step back, his gaunt face tightening with horror and distrust.
"Hey, are you okay sir?" Sora inquired shakily, knowing it was dumb question with the answer glaring at him. "Maybe I should call the cops-"
"No, don't!"
Sora hadn't even know his fingers had already sought his mobile before his right hand froze around the device, startled by that rasping utterance and the sheer vehemence he found there. "But-"
Sickeningly thin fingers furrowed deep into his arm as the man grasped his arm, so much more frantic and excited that Sora flinched, flinched away at the sad madness dwelling in those unstable eyes, flinching at how numbness spread from where man the touched him. Bloody, torn lips pulled back into a smile that would've been pleasant if it didn't look so much like a grimace against the man's marred facial features. "No. He doesn't like that. Like when others get involved."
Alarmed, Sora whispered softly, urgently, "Who?"
"He is everything and nothing at once. He is a seeker of blood, flesh, truth, and lies. The incarnation of Darkness and Sin personified. He," excited words filled with an almost religious reverence took on a softer quality, "is all that was and all that will be."
Completely mystified but involuntarily fascinated by the passion imbued in the emaciated man's words, Sora gently pried the man's fingers of their steely grip and prompted the man to speak with a raised eyebrow, unsatisfied. "What does that even mean? What is his name?"
"Names are depthless, one-dimensional things…"
Frustrated, Sora expression sharpened inquisitively, all initial fear at rest in the recess of his conscious. "Give me something so I can help you-"
"It's too late for me; always too late…"
Giggling with a hysterical lit to his voice, his desolate frame trembling with the effort, the man walked off in his pained, limping gait down the street where a dead-end would eventually surface, leaving Sora alone with nothing but the man's putrid scent. The ghost sensation of gnarled fingers digging into his skin still echoed and thrummed throughout Sora's body as he continued on his way, highly disturbed and questioning the origins of the blonde. Worry made his brow crease as he, out of habit, bit the inside of his cheek, wandering if there was a man roaming this town with dangerous, and twisted intentions. Commonsense said to alert the police but uncertainty forced the 18 year old into a silence, harboring thoughts of precautions he should take to keep safe. Maybe he could stay in after hours. Or maybe he-
Was just really being paranoid, and becoming illogical.
Now that he thought about, the man looked as if he had been beat up by a group of people, not just by one man. Evidence said there was a bully in town but instinct contradicted this, warning Sora that there was something much deeper than that shimmering underneath the surface. As foreboding as that sounded, Sora still couldn't find in himself to be as alarmed as he would've, relying on the unchallenged fact that violence was pretty much an unprecedented factor in this town's safety. Strife was nearly non-existent, so wouldn't it be okay to assume that it would continue as such?
'Everything will be fine. I'm just worrying too much.'
But wasn't that what Roxas said before he disappeared off the face of this Earth?
The world seemed infinitesimally more greyer-despite the contradicting radiance of the sun above-to Sora as he completed the finally lap to Riku's house, coming to a stop as aquamarine eyes sought the window on the second floor that undoubtedly belonged to his friend. As expected, the navy-blue shades were parted to reveal his dashingly, handsome friend sitting in his preferred position, attention on the canvas before him, black brush lavished in a secure grip, and its brother at rest behind the artist ear. It wasn't often that Sora had the opportunity to see Riku so absorbed in his element for the artist had the amusing and questionable tendency to stop what he was doing immediately-no matter the intensity level of his concentration-the moment Sora arrived. It was strange and Sora never once asked Riku to stop what he was doing and when he would ask, the other would wave it off with the flick of the wrist, and argue playfully that there were other things that deserved his attention. For one thing, he had hoped that said "other things" wasn't actually him, but kept his theory to himself for Riku would just refute the fact with another, causing some type of verbal warfare that Sora never won.
It was by some undocumented rule that Riku always won. And if he didn't, he conceded victory willingly, satisfied that they would both know that he still won.
Jerk. But it was more of an affectionate term than a derisive one.
Leaving the artist to his work, Sora shuffled along to knock on the door, taking a quick look around the lot with an amused eye. Mr. Tamahashi-Riku's father-wasn't much for aesthetics which was a stark contrast towards Riku's artistic nature, leading to an innumerable amount of half-hearted disputes between father and son. Kairi liked to say that all it was lacking was a woman's touch-and she was right. Riku's mom passed away a long time ago when they were boys, finally succumbing to the tenacity of her terminal illness, although she did make her last moments on this plain memorable and heartfelt, her last wish being that her husband not turn away the chance at love if it presented itself again. You would think that her death would've shattered their family with her being its very foundation, but it seemed to have reinforced the ties between them. It was relieving to see this, but Sora, when unable to hold back the negative stream of emotion that would siege him unexpectedly, would feel such envy that it often made him sick. Sometimes he wandered if he was such a good person, but dismissed it, not wanting it ruin his fragile, neutral mood.
The creaking of hinges brought the brunette fully out of the domain of his thoughts, blinking up amiably to meet sea-green eyes, a stern but pleasant face that beamed at his presence, and the smell of almond that wafted from behind the well-built man. Sora offered his most sincere smile, feeling a faint happiness at seeing the man he hadn't seen for a couple months. For some reason, and Riku frequently asked why with such pain and confusion lacing his velvety voice, Sora had been avoiding his friends like the plague as of late. If he himself had known the answer, than maybe they could handle it together, but now, Sora could do little more than smile weakly when they passed each other in school.
Riku wasn't particularly taking that well.
"It's nice to see you Sora. I thought you had died tragically. You would think so with Riku walking around like some corpse strung up from his grave."
Sora had to catch himself for a minute, the time away having weakened his immunity to Mr. Tamahashi's dark and rather unique humor. He chuckled in response as he walked in at the copper-haired man's permissive gesture, basking in the homely atmosphere of the modestly decorated house. Was it strange that such a feeling has been absent from the place he called home? "Nah. I'm still very much alive. The only thing that could down me is snakes…and tomatoes." He added the last part with an equal measure of distaste and apprehension, finding the fruit a horribly, grotesque, little thing.
"Hm, right you are Sora. Remind me to slip a slice of tomato on your sandwich next time." A grin and a harmless wink later and Mr. Tamahashi was relaxed in his favorite black, leather recliner, contemplative eyes watching some sports game. "Riku's upstairs by the way, so don't hesitate to invite yourself into his room."
The last bit was a joke, both knowing that Riku hated with a fiery passion people waltzing into his room without knocking, valuing privacy above most things. So Sora would do it purposefully, like he was going to do now as he crept up the stairs and approached Riku's room, hearing the rhythmicity of a brush creating art on a willing surface, composing its own unique music. Smiling mischievously, Sora turned the knob softly till he heard the telltale sign of a click, pushing open the door, and stepping into Riku's personally space.
It was like walking into an art gallery; colors of varying shades splashed upon completed paintings; greys, blacks, and whites giving an old feel as drawings lie open and revealed from a book; and of course, normal teenager things like posters, television, and a bookshelf littered the room, a faithful reminder that Riku was still first and foremost a teenager despite his talent. It was a strong contrast to the messy typhoon that was Sora's own room , which could use a bit of rehashing. Not that he actually car-
"Dad, if you walk in here one more time without knocking-Oh."
A grin of sorts twisted Sora's lips at the uncharacteristic wide-eyed look he was receiving from sea-foam eyes, that handsome face pleasantly surprised, lips parted to speak words that no longer existed. As if spurred by some nameless feeling, Riku quickly, but neatly, placed his utensils down and proceeded to smear paint all over his clothing out of habit, but still amazingly managing to look attractively neat. There probably was a secret, but Sora had little time to speculate as his friend crossed the room in long strides, stopping in front of him with an air of brevity and a faint pleasure. But the allure of those eyes made it hard for Sora to look elsewhere but the chiseled plain of his face, that silver hair framing and complementing him so well that Sora, for a frightful moment, had to wander about his preferences.
As handsome as Riku was, Sora wasn't attracted to guys-not that he had problem with it, but it was merely preference. Riku, on the other hand, he wasn't quite so sure.
"Not gonna finish that sentence?" Sora teased, deciding to break the strange silence between them.
A noncommittal noise sounded from Riku's throat as he rolled his eyes, still grinning despite himself. "It was meant for my dad…unless you want to finally reveal to me that you're really my dad?"
"This isn't Star Wars. But does it really matter if I'm your dad or not? I thought you didn't like anyone," special emphasis on that word, "barging into your room."
Forest-green eyes softened marginally as dexterous fingers squeezed Sora's shoulder, the emotion behind it appearing harmless but Sora wasn't quite so sure. "You get special liberties."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm."
"Does that mean I get to use your laptop?"
A sigh. "Sometimes I think you use me."
That was as much a sign of permission Sora was going to get as he impulsively wrapped his arms around his best friend, feeling taunt muscles flinch than forcibly relax as the gesture was returned. He didn't always react like that, but it was so long ago since he hadn't that it no longer bothered Sora, just relishing in the warmth that he was greedily stealing from the leanly, muscular body. They stood like that for several minutes, Riku's soft breathing rustling his hair, those slender fingers splayed out over his back as the lulling tempo of the heart throbbing lively underneath that softly steeled chest seduced Sora into a plain of harmless disillusion. Riku was so sinfully warm…his body an unyielding pillar of support and comfort. Emotions, the ones that viciously ate away at his heart on this day, finally escaped from him as Sora let out a chocked sob, burying his face in that paint-stained chest, burying his whole being in that musky, paint-tinged scent that will always exclusively belong to Riku. Strong arms fluidly lowered to his waist and tightened the embrace, inaudible words spilling from Riku's as he pressed his face into that spikey mess of chocolate-brown hair, the gesture telling Sora all he needed to know.
That he would always be there.
Always be his pillar of strength, comfort, and support.
And maybe he was saying something else, but Sora subconsciously blocked that possibility away, too afraid to confront it.
"Riku…I-"
"Ssh. It's okay. Just let it out…you need this."
'Yea…maybe I do.'
Sora tightened his hold on Riku's lenient body, seeking refuge from the ugliness of the world, the harsh starkness of reality, and from his own painful emotions.
Look harder…
"I really hate Grand Theft Auto."
Sora looked in disdain at the blue convertible seconds away from combusting into flames along with his character, who for some reason couldn't escape despite Sora pressing the button like his life depended on it.
After that strange little emotional thing that happened between them, Riku had went to clean up to look more presentable to his guest-no matter how Sora said it was unnecessary. But Riku wouldn't be dissuaded and left Sora to joys of his laptop while he showered and whatnot. Sora didn't understand Riku sometimes, but he was sure it came with the package of having befriended the artist. Besides, the laptop proved to be way more distracting than Sora had been expecting, finding the internet and its joys to be so charming and fulfilling, that time was passing by extremely fast. It wasn't until his phone vibrated in the confines of his shorts that he realized the true length of his stay, having forgotten to notify his parents. The text message that he received was of course expressing concern while equally berating him for not calling earlier, not that Sora actually cared. He tended to weigh their worries over his welfare very little, only going so far that he only managed to hint that he might stay at Riku's.
He hadn't bothered checking the answering message.
The return of Riku literally happened five minutes after his little chat with his parents, having two steaming plates of spaghetti in each hand, and a cocky smirk on his face. It suddenly made sense why he took so long-longer than usual-to freshen up. It was well-known fact that his father was disastrous when it came to the fine art of cuisine, so Riku being…well Riku, must've helped out and turned dinner into something eatable. Mind you, it was dish that had amplitudes of tomatoes, so the fact that Sora ate it without even an inkling of a grimace and his signature comical choking, than it was very good.
Freaking Riku and his many talents.
"That's because you lack the skill to play."
Sora turned and narrowed his annoyed eyes at the ever-so pleased expression on Riku's face, having to quell the urge to savagely push him off the bed. No Sora, that would be really bad. "Oh. And you are so graciously blessed, hmm?"
"Well yea. It is my game. Plus, I'm just more awesome than you in general." Riku remarked with a casual ease, deftly prying the poor controller from Sora's hands and taking it into his considerably gentler grasp. "Now watch my technique and be amazed…"
Grudgingly and with a serious pout on his face, Sora could do little more than watch as Riku somehow managed to get himself out of the car without much of a struggle, looking so damned smug about it that Sora reacted in the most childish way he could.
He pushed him off.
Yet before Sora could even feel the first ounce of petty satisfaction, Riku's hand caught the sleeve of his hoodie and both of them went tumbling off the bed in a confusion of limbs, a sound "oof" telling Sora that he managed to land completely on Riku's hard body. Normally, Sora's first reaction was to scramble off but he was once again accosted by the strange warmth that Riku's body seemed to be made off, unconsciously pressing his body closer to steal more, by chance, missing the surprised gasp that tore from thin lips. It just felt so nice, and he was preparing to bury his face into the chest beneath him when he froze abruptly, hearing the hallowed breathing, the rhythmic thud underneath his fingertips.
It dawned on him that he was actually lying on Riku, legs tangled together and everything.
At once, Sora made a move to get up but an insistent pressure on his back-Riku's hand-convinced him, if only for a moment, to stay, aquamarine orbs meeting smoldering, forest-green ones, hypnotized by their alatracity. With a heavy exhale, never relinquishing the hold of their gazes, Riku opened his mouth to speak in low tone, brimming with festered emotion:
"You are so…immature."
Sora blinked once, twice, thrice, before clumsily composing himself, fumbling with his retort, "And you're such an unbearable show-off."
"You really think so?"
Sora didn't hesitate. "Yes."
For a rough moment, and Sora, feeling horribly guilty that he might've hurt his friend's feelings, Riku remained thoughtfully silent, captured by thoughts that's nature escaped Sora. It was comparable to staring down at some great philosophical thinker who was contemplating the nature of everything, which was a broad and expansive topic in itself. He supposed that if Riku didn't appear to be upset, than maybe all was well and they could resume the playful atmosphere between them, this time with Sora acting his age.
Opening his mouth to rouse Riku from his lapse of silence, Sora barely reigned in a startled noise of shock when an elegant finger found its way to his lips, gently requesting silence. Sea-green eyes, so dark and almost distant, flickered with unbridled emotion, and the intensity and quality of them sparked a confusing flare of fascination in Sora's body. So much so that all reason and logic began to fade to black as he watched, enchanted, Riku's whole face ease closer to his own, those beautiful eyes half-lidded, seemingly spellbound. And Sora didn't move, no matter how much his gut stirred unpleasantly or how a foreboding feeling warned him. Warned him of what, he didn't know, nor did he care as he began his own descent into sin, spurred on by those wonderful eyes and curiosity.
And when their lips met, the world flipped upside down.
Riku's lips were soft and demanding, patient and frivolous, moving against his own with delicious expertise and a fervent desperation that Sora could do little but gasp at, fabulously overwhelmed. Greedily, Riku swallowed the noise with his mouth, taking that beautiful opportunity to delve into Sora's mouth with an eager tongue, mapping out the fleshy interior and coaxing Sora to dance along. And he couldn't resist, couldn't resist the tangible flood of Riku's desire as they battled, Sora nothing but inexperienced determination, fodder for Riku's confidence and skill.
Heat, sinful and tumulus, flooded Sora's being as their passionate exchanges continued, his mind and inhibitions gone as if he was inebriated. Inebriated on the perfect body quivering with suppressed desire beneath him. Inebriated by the fervency of Riku's blazing emotions. He could barely fathom the world around him, forgetting that they were indeed best friends and that this would shatter the safety lines that friendship drew. He was forgetting that he wasn't supposed to be attracted to Riku, that he didn't like men physically.
But gods, why was it so hard to focus.
Teeth bit down on the soft flesh of his lips and Sora groaned in response, feeling Riku seconds later kiss him again apologetically, murmuring something incomprehensible between them. But Sora was deaf to everything but the heat of the moment, whimpering when he felt elegant fingers slip beneath the heavy material of his hoodie, dancing across the burning skin there, memorizing the feel of silky smoothness. Sora sighed heavily in response, mindlessly breaking away from their kissing to trail hungry kisses down Riku's jawline till he was met with the flushed expanse of his neck where he lavished his attention with teeth, tongue, and lips. Murmurs of encouragement fell heedlessly from Riku's lips as he suddenly gathered the brunette in his arms and led them to the bed where Sora fell gracelessly on, panting and submerged in a thick lusty fog.
Forest green eyes peered down at him, glazed over with their own thick sheen of desire, yet something else danced across them too, something that was so incourgeous to what they had been doing on the floor seconds ago. What Sora saw their, amidst the desire, passion, and lust, was a fervent, tender longing and unbridled love that it seemed to dwarf everything else. This was…wrong. Those feelings were all wrong. Understanding was forcing its way through the blanket of lust as the whole situation dawned on him with sickening clarity.
Riku loved him. Oh Gods Riku loved him.
Frighteningly alarmed now at this realization, Sora placed a hand on Riku's face in order to rouse him too from this horrible spell, nearly groaning in horror when his friend merely took his hand in his own, and with deliberate slowness, kissed each of his knuckles. Frantic, Sora spoke in a quivering voice, "Riku we-"
"Oh Sora. How I've waited for this, waited for you."
"Please-"
All argument was smothered as Riku pressed his lips to Sora's in a slow, loving kiss, so different from the lustful frenzy on the floor that Sora could do little more than to return it, his body still craving the one hovering above him, rampant with unsatiated teenage hormones. Was this all he wanted? Someone to touch him so intimately? Did he not care about the extent of Riku's feelings for him? But he wanted to. Gods, he did so much. Wanted to return those loving caresses that sensitized his skin and set it aflame. Wanted to return those reverent kisses adoringly painting his neck with the same ardor that his friend put into everything. But his body didn't want love and Riku didn't deserve anything less. Sora nearly sobbed as the artist, face still buried in his neck, wrapped Sora's legs around his midsection to bring them closer despite the fabric barrier, rolling his hips with a stuttered groan, letting Sora feel the evidence of his longing and desire.
Sora looked stricken as disgust swelled within him, disgust for leading his friend on and not-no matter how much it would hurt-spurning his advances. Now he was causing an unforgiveable misunderstanding that would've probably hurt more than any silent rejection.
Heart heavy and saturated with sorrow, Sora placed a trembling hand on Riku's shoulder to gain his glazed attention, nearly flinching at the sheer affection he found there, like Sora was the only thing that mattered to him. Never did Sora feel like such a monster till this very moment.
"Sora…?"
The tender inquiry nearly made the brunette cower away, but he held that soft gaze as best as he could, his own shining with unshed tears. "W-We can't."
"Can't what?" Riku murmured, confused, inches away from Sora's face, their breaths mingling. "What's wrong?"
Sora closed his eyes, the tears fighting furiously to slip through. "We can't be together."
"What?" Now he could hear the hurt incredulity in Riku's voice as he backed away a little, staring at Sora with such disbelief and something akin to fear, that it was nearly unbearable. "But what just happened between us-"
"Was a mistake. I didn't mean to let it happen. I just-"
And now it was Riku's turn to interrupt, looking so wounded and infuriated that he himself didn't know how to handle either emotion, grabbing Sora by the shoulders to pin him down, his breathing ragged, eyes broken green shards of bleeding glass. "Just what, huh? Your telling me that you felt nothing from all that? Nothing at all? I don't…," his voice was so hoarse, so broken, "I don't believe you Sora."
"Riku-"
And Riku was kissing him again, harsh, desperate, and loving all at once, his grip tightening to painful lengths, wringing a painful gasp from the lips he was assaulting. Sora felt every rampant emotion in the male before him, emblazoned and intense, having shimmered for so many long years. Yet even though it was cruel and the emotions beseeching him were pure, Sora still broke away with a pained cry, desperately maneuvering out from Riku's trembling body to escape to the floor, unable to meet those bleeding, injured eyes. He was such a monster.
"I'm so sorry Riku. I…I can't. I don't love you. Please…"
The anger and betrayal brewing in those aggrieved eyes like a stormy tempest was so consuming that Sora felt his breath leave him, lungs craving oxygen, threatening to implode unless he drunk in the air. "Get out Sora. I can't bare you right now. Just…leave."
"Riku, please-"
"Leave!"
The animalistic snarl of unfettered rage almost blindsided Sora as he staggered to his feet, the tears finally free and trailing down his cheeks, already flying out the room and down the stairs out the house. A force snagged his attention savagely and Sora paused, finding himself staring up at Riku's window to meet sea-green eclipsed by a never-ending ocean of suffering, suffering that he himself had caused out of lack of control and inconsideration. Even now, shaking at the unforgiving cold of the night, tears still streaming down his face ceaselessly, Sora couldn't endure it any longer and turned away, running blindly away from that house. From Riku who was there when the cops proclaimed his brother unable to be found. Running from everything that he was too afraid to face.
But he couldn't run from the disturbingly similar, aquamarine gaze that continued to watch heatedly from the shadows, completely and blissfully unaware.
Beneath the surface.
A/N: This is just something I had on my mind for awhile. But if people like it, it can become something more than that. And this is not a Riku and Sora fic, just to soothe any doubts people had. Everything is strictly one-sided regarding those two's relationship and its purpose is to contribute to the rest of the story. So tell me what you think in a review.
(If your here for Canvas, go to my profile.)