By the Time I Wake Up
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
A/N: I'm a little nervous about posting this because it's practically my first KH fic... Anyway, this little baby was inspired by listening to the song "It's Cool We Can Still Be Friends" by Bright Eyes.
Their break-up was just as unconventional as the rest of their relationship was. No fighting. Just.
Riku had been the one to actually voice the idea. It was a quiet, cloudy day outside. The gray reflected Sora's mood. Dull. Empty. It didn't help that he was sick, either.
("…Do you think…?"
"Yeah. Yeah, let's- we need to break up.")
Riku's voice was flat, emotionless, and Sora's stuffed with a cold and lightheadedness.
They'd agreed to remain friends. They'd been friends long before any of this falling-in-and-out-of-love business had ever started. So, they were going to stay that way.
Since, at the time, they were at Sora's flat, Riku ended up collecting his stuff- the things he'd left after sleeping over and had promised to pick up eventually but never actually got around to. Sora had closed the door behind him, and he'd walked home just as it started to rain.
It was a week later when they saw each other again. It was in the supermarket; Riku was waiting in line and Sora was just coming in.
Two hello's and a how are you.
The end.
The next day, and Sora's phone rang. He picked it up, assuming it was Kairi. It wasn't.
("Wanna do something this weekend, like we used to when we were-?"
"Sure, but without-"
"Yeah. I know.")
Plans were made. Movie night at Riku's place.
When Sora got there, his beloved pillow and blankie tucked under his arm, Riku opened the door, letting him in. He leaned down to kiss his (best) friend on the cheek, but that was it. That was always it.
They started the movie. Apparently the critics had really liked it, but somewhere in the middle of it all, Sora had stopped paying attention, and Riku had fallen asleep on the couch.
Sora glanced over his shoulder at the boy on the loveseat behind him. Seated on the floor, there was not much distance between his face and Riku's. But he didn't do anything. They weren't in love anymore. They weren't going out. They were. Just.
Best friends.
He ended up spending the night.
But nothing happened.
He found himself waking up several times, thinking (hoping) he'd heard something, a floorboard creaking under a clumsy foot as Riku came to wake him up, to get him to come to bed with him like they'd used to.
And nothing ever happened.
Afterwards, Sora would attempt to call Riku, hoping to be able to talk to him like they'd done before. But Riku never picked up. It was always the machine, and he'd wait until the tone had beeped before he hung up.
His dreams were plagued with Riku. Mostly memories of happier, brighter times.
Like the time when it'd rained so hard that both of them had caught colds and spent about two days in bed with each other, trying to get better.
Like the time they'd gone to the beach for the first time since leaving home.
Like when the two of them had first gotten together after being friends for years.
Sometimes he found himself crying over those times, wishing they hadn't gone, that they'd continued on, and he and Riku were still happily together.
But it was Riku who'd fallen out of it. Sora had never stopped loving Riku. He had never ever stopped loving his best friend, but had given up on him because he was a coward and a wimp.
This fact beat him senseless everyday, filling him with self-loathing and sorrow. It only served to make him miss Riku more.
Riku called him up one day, asking for him to come out to dinner with him.
When Sora arrived at the restaurant, he wasn't surprised to see someone sitting at the table with his friend.
("This is Leon, Sora."
"Hi."
"Hello.")
Leon was quiet, tall, and handsome. Infinitely different from Sora, in most every way. No wonder Riku likes him so much, Sora thought bitterly, watching the couple from across the table.
When it was over, he didn't even spare Riku a glance before heading down the street. It was too late for the buses to be running, and Riku wouldn't offer him a ride, so he'd have to walk.
But that was fine. Walking gave him time to forget.
The night was cold and biting, enough to make him walk faster in the hopes that the momentum would either warm him up or get him home sooner.
Home was never this cold. Back on the islands, winter was just as sunny as the rest of the year, and although the temperature went down, you could still wear shorts and t-shirts. It was never so cold that with every step you thought you'd fall apart because you were so stiff. It was never so freezing that you felt like crying because you wished for warmth.
It was never so cold that you wished for Riku's strong embrace to keep you from freezing, because he was always there back home, and he was never there back here.
When he eventually got back to his apartment, Sora turned on his heater, grabbed a pile of blankets, found that one shirt that Riku had never taken home, and fell asleep on his couch instead of his bed because his couch was where Riku used to take naps while he was doing homework.
He woke up smelling like Riku, the shirt tucked under his chin.
Sometimes he'd find himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Riku would stand behind him like a shadow or a ghost, ever present.
("You hurt me.")
("You fucking hurt me.")
Sora tried to hate Riku. He did.
("It's your fault.")
He really did.
("I hate you.")
But it wasn't really Riku's fault, and he didn't hate him.
Sora wasn't even sure if he was actually hurt. He felt a hollowness somewhere in his chest, but every time he'd lift his shirt to check, there was no wound. There was nothing there. Just.
Empty.
One night, the phone rang.
Sora picked it up, assuming it was No One. He'd been getting calls from him lately.
It was Riku.
("S-Sora?")
He sounded like he'd been crying.
("C-can you come over? I really- I really need some company right now…")
Sora was over there in a second, because no matter what Riku had or hadn't done, he was still his best friend and he needed to be there for him.
Riku answered the door in tears and pulled Sora inside. He told Sora how Leon had broken up with him, out of the blue. It was too unexpected, Riku said, and he didn't know where it'd come from.
Sora held up a bottle of whiskey. No words were necessary.
And then they got so fucking drunk that Sora's vision was a blur and he wasn't sure whether that was Riku's head on his lap or just a pillow, and he didn't know what time it was, and he didn't even know he'd fallen asleep until he got up, pushed Riku off of him, and headed straight for the bathroom to be sick.
He hadn't drunk so much since college.
He couldn't remember what exactly had happened last night, and was almost scared of that fact. What if they had done something? That would be bad. That would be very bad. They weren't in love anymore. They were broken up. They were hardly best friends anymore. They were. Just.
People. People who happened to know each other.
The phone rang, and Sora picked it up, because he'd picked up Riku's phone so many times before, and he hadn't even thought about it this time, so he wasn't expecting it to be anyone he didn't want it to be.
It was Leon.
("Riku?"
"No, this is Sora."
"Oh. Well, where's Riku?"
"Asleep.")
It was funny. Sora had never hated Leon. He had never attempted to blame the older man for stealing Riku, because he hadn't. Stolen Riku. Riku had just left of his own accord.
("…How's he taking it?"
"Well, the two of us passed out drunk last night, if that's what you meant."
"Oh. Ha. Ha.")
When Leon started laughing, that was when Sora got freaked out. He asked why.
("Why are you laughing? Why would you give up on someone as perfect as Riku? Why would you break him so badly? Leon, how could you do that?")
Leon stopped laughing only to start up again.
("I'm not the one who broke him in the first place, Sora. You of all people should know this."
"Huh?")
Leon hung up.
Riku woke up. He was dazed and confused at first, but when he saw Sora, he seemed to wake up completely, and realization dawned in his face.
("What happened?"
"Nothing. We got drunk."
"Nothing else…?"
"No.")
Riku rolled over onto his back and threw an arm over his face. He looked so vulnerable, and Sora wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him and never let go. Because for all the times Riku acted like he was totally cool with everything, he really wasn't at times. He was just as fragile as everyone else, if not more.
And Sora found himself unable to contain himself, and he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.
("Dammit, Riku.")
I
("Just- just dammit.")
know
("Sora? What?")
you
("Fuck, Riku!")
don't
("What the hell, Sora?"
care
("What's going on?")
but
("You jackass- how the fuck can you keep doing this to me?! When we broke up- I resolved to forget about you, about us, about how my heart seems to go absolutely effing crazy every time you're near- but-! You make it so hard! I love you! And you don't love me back- we broke up because of that, and, and...")
I love you
And Riku froze. And Sora froze.
And Sora, without anything else to say, picked up the remains of his dignity and left the apartment.
When he got home, he ripped holes in Riku's shirt. He peeled oranges, feeling his fingernails biting into the skins and soaking up the juices until his fingertips bled. He had pillow fights with the couch cushions. He stood under the spray of the shower head, fully clothed. He scrubbed at the mold between the tiles in his bathroom until his hands were red and raw.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He traced the scar that he'd left on his own chest. He knew now. It wasn't Riku's fault. It never had been. It was all his own fault. He'd dug his own grave. He'd hurt himself.
"It's cool, Sora. We can still be friends. We can be friends just like we used to. Nothing will have changed."
And he hadn't spoken up when Riku said that. He hadn't protested- he hadn't said what he really felt. He hadn't told Riku that he didn't want to break up. He didn't tell Riku that he loved him, and he always would. He didn't tell Riku that he just could not go back to being just friends now that he knew what it was like to be so much more.
He fell asleep on the floor after crying angry tears and feeling pissed at himself. He didn't deserve the bed. He didn't deserve the couch. He deserved the cold hard floor.
Sora dreamt that Riku came into his flat through the bathroom window. He dreamt that Riku found him on the floor. He dreamt that Riku put his hand to his face, so softly and gently that the dream Sora would have cried if he was awake. He dreamt that Riku smiled, kissed him slowly and sweetly right on the lips (and not on the cheek) and told him, "I love you too." He dreamt that Riku picked him up in his strong arms and carried him to the bed. He dreamt that Riku lay him down carefully, brushing his bangs from his forehead. He dreamt that Riku pulled the blankets up around him. He dreamt that Riku told him he'd be on the couch sleeping. He dreamt that Riku kissed him again, on the forehead this time.
And when Sora woke up, he found that he hadn't been dreaming at all.
A/N: I think I might have an obsession with using italics and parantheses.
It's got a few mistakes and other choppy plot-points, and the characters are a bit OOC, but I think it works.
I might make this a twoshot and write a chapter on Riku's POV, if I get inspired. Might.
Review? ...please...?