Disclaimer: I don't own KH.
Theme: Never Seen a Bluer Sky
Inch by inch the sun drowned at the edge of the world, bleeding crimson, turmec, and saffron; painting the horizon in dying light. But Sora had watched the ocean and the sky for so many evenings that an island's sunset wasn't enough to capture him, enrapture him, to fascinate or captivate. His mind was static. An old radio with a manual tuner, crackling and buzzing; for a split second landing and connecting a thought, coming across a real channel, a break in the drone like eye contact in a crowd, and then it was broken again, lost again, all static and fizz again.
He didn't see the ocean, a calm mirror of clouds coral and copper. His eyes didn't see the waves quietly cresting, their white tinted peach, or the water slipping back down the beach, its attempt to reach out to him failed. Sitting on the edge of an island beach, all Sora saw was the dyed sand sifting through his fingers. Unfocused eyes; one hand to his lips, splitting the skin of them with gentle fingers and bitten nails.
He sat long enough for the waves to wash away all the color, the cyan to the sapphire, making the fade into pomegranate; sky and sea the color of fruit, the tempting and the luscious, but never once did he notice. It wasn't until it began to chill, just slightly, with a slight breeze of the sea, that he looked up, half aware that he was late. He wanted to make an excuse. How he forgot the time, the place, and all the people who lived there; how he had drown in thought all evening, alone on the beach with no one to rescue him. But as he set his little boat out to sea, Sora couldn't shake the memory of Riku so suddenly and so swiftly catching his lips, only to be a foot away in an instant, no explanation; just a smirk, a laugh, and no look backwards.
In the fading darkness, the calm silky blue of the end of evening, Sora still pried weakly at his lips, his already pink and fragile lips, remembering the sting of sea salt from Riku's tongue as it ran over them. It wasn't like him really, to not have a response, to be dumbstruck, to be disheartened by any turn of events. Sora, much like a firecracker, was one to react explosively, wearing emotions on the cuff, letting everyone know what he had to say. But he hadn't made a scene. No loud bang and accompanying sparks. His emotions had rather turned to liquid instead, all funneling down, leaving him feeling almost something, but he wasn't sure what. He just couldn't understand why that moment, that exact moment, with that exact feeling, under that paint splattering of a sky, could replay countless times before his eyes-- every emotion he had in him draining in a slurping spiral into that instant --but yet he couldn't ever again imagine doing that to Kairi.