Disclaimer: Nothing is mine okay. D:
A/N: I had some energy to expend, and I've been wanting to do a RikuxSora for a while, so. Enjoy the hormonefest, I guess. It made me absurdly happy while it lasted.
I could never wrap my head completely around the RikuxSora dynamic for a while. I'm not a hundred percent sure I can, still--and I didn't feel like writing any angst or fluff, so this is sort of I dunno. In between.
Matters of Consequence
You aren't a hundred percent sure how to phrase it still—you just know that there are more important things. More important things than… all the things that sound a sharp staccato in your head as you try fumblingly to list them down. Things that you realize were there all along, except they weren't.
Sneaking out at midnight. Taking a boat to the island. Shared laughs, mischief, exclamations of "what'd you do that for, you idiot?". First kisses. After all you've been through, both of you, you should know.
These things, they don't matter. Not much, anyway. Maybe not as much as they once did. You know, you know, you're positive that's what you should think.
But…
In the secret cave on a moonless night, the air in front of your face hangs so thick and so black you can't even make out the tips of your fingers. You can't see him at all, except his eyes, the pale stars glancing off his hair, the brief flash of his teeth as he grins into the non-light. Then you realize, well. That's a lot to see, when you can't see anything at all.
Mere moments later, he reaches across the distance and pushes you down, and your thoughts are full of nothing but the absurdity that you are each other's first kiss, and god, how can this not be important?
And as your hands—you've long since lost the ability to tell right from left anymore—reach up, as your fingers brush the nape of his neck and curl around his forearm and grip tightly enough to bruise, as you try blindly to draw his outline by touch, you know. You know. You're positive.
"Riku…" His name is the first breath that breaks the surface. You can feel him smile into one of your palms—right, left, it doesn't matter. "You making up for lost time?"
There must be more important things. But it's a moonless night, you're only fifteen and clumsy as all hell, so your eyes are full of nothing.
FIN