Almost Perfect Strangers
He's gentle, with long, beautiful, black lashes and lips that are ashen, but full. His body is tense, every well-developed muscle trembling on its edge, despite his yearlong state of nothingness. They boy has grown out of himself and it's all elbows and knobby knees and very tight clothing and I swear I've never met him but in every way I know him.
I know he chews his nails raw and had little yellow blanket when he was small.
He loves leeks but not onions and when he's hungry at night he'll stick his long fingers down the mouth of the peanut butter jar and suck every, creamy bit clean.
There's a rose-colored birthmark on his back.
If there was anything that wasn't in my mind about him, I'd be surprised, because we're almost perfect strangers and yet I'm staring in a mirror with slightly dusty hair that's a bit too long but it's me nonetheless.
The better part of me.
The me that's good and extraordinarily kind and self-sacrificing and doesn't talk rude to Mr. Swartz when he's already stuck in deep enough shit and caring and he can't ever be mad or properly frown because his heart's too full of perfect love and there's a someone out there who loves him and maybe two or three and I have to go.
There's a swelling in my chest; my hands are disappearing. The spades of his cage are bowing themselves so that he may step down and I may step out.
"Looks like my summer vacation is—"
His eyelids are shuddering and I can almost glimpse the malted-sky blue that once was mine.
"—over."
fin
LiveJournal "Roxas" Fanfic 100 Challenge
Prompt: 025 - Strangers
I don't own Kingdom Hearts.