A/N: A sort of sequel/counterpart to my story Reunion, but from Riku's perspective- this time taking a bit of inspiration from the chorus of "Simple and Clean". I've always pictured Riku to be in a… a bit more of a complicated situation as compared to Sora. I don't think anyone would've been waiting for Riku to come to dinner all that time.

Let me know what you think in the comments. Enjoy!

Homecoming

"I don't know if I can do this," the shorter boy whispered. He bit his lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other anxiously. Every pore exuded nervousness, normally bright blue eyes filled with concern as he glanced over at the house before them. Even in the moonlight, Riku could see his unsure gaze, drifting between Riku's face and the daunting doorstep.

Thinking of vague recollections in his mind of the sweet, welcoming couple he had thought of as surrogate parents all his life, Riku sighed. He understood Sora's fears. It didn't feel right, coming back to the Islands like this unannounced- not after undoubtedly causing those sweet people such unknowable heartache.

Yet, there was no other option. Running away wouldn't solve anything, either.

Riku knocked Sora's head lightly with his fist, eliciting a tired giggle from the younger. "Look," the silver-haired boy murmured, voice stern, eyes soft. "I think… we've made them wait long enough. You can do it."

"But what do I say?" Sora cried, covering his face cutely with his hands. "This is nuts, Riku."

Riku felt his heart swell with warmth at the other's demeanor. No matter how much time had passed, Sora was still Sora, after all. He was still just the little kid Riku had sworn to protect all those years ago.

He shook his head quickly, clearing those thoughts from his mind. It wasn't time to talk about those feelings yet. Tonight was for conquering a different enemy.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't exaggerate. Just do what we rehearsed." Before Sora could protest any longer, the elder wrapped him up in a quick, comforting embrace, squeezing tight. The smaller body was so, so warm, but Riku said nothing of how Sora trembled slightly in the elder's arms. The younger was likely more scared than Riku could ever really know.

He held on for just a moment before letting go. "They deserve to know, Sora." Shoving his hands into his pockets, Riku turned on his heel and jogged down the short driveway towards the house across the street, leaving behind the brightly-lit windows and warm atmosphere of Sora's home.

In just a few short moments, Riku stood quietly in front of his own doorstep, eyes taking in every detail possible. The house was just as still as when he had left it that fateful night. The building was classic, elegant- with their refined tastes polished to perfection, it was just enough to not stand out in this otherwise fairly well-off suburban neighbourhood, but to still extrude a sense of nobility in every design choice. The lawn was immaculate as ever, steps swept clean, siding sparkling white with hanging flowerpots blooming around a marbled stone archway, the door creating a far more oppressive atmosphere than the one Sora would have to contend with. On the surface, the lavish house was something out of a magazine, something that all young homeowners might one day aspire to create themselves.

Riku only knew this place as something that was empty.

He didn't bother knocking. He never did- there wouldn't be anyone to hear it, anyway. Judging by the lack of a light coming from the second-floor study, it was clear that his father had yet to return. His mother's office was also unoccupied, the normally white, pristine curtains hung inside a dreary grey in the darkness.

Is there any point to even going in? he wondered.

But he had made a promise to Sora to try, and he'd be damned if he didn't follow through.

So, Riku simply reached up towards the top of the door, finding his old key wedged between two larger stones in the large mosaicked wall under the doorbell, just where he had left it. Since he and Sora had spent their entire childhoods playing in the water, he had always left his copy of the key in this hidden spot to make sure that he wouldn't lose it. Sora had lost his house keys more than once when they were young, leading to multiple scoldings from his parents. Riku had never taken these precautions for fear of scolding, however- he just knew that if he lost them, there was always a chance that no one would be home for days to open it back up for him.

Turning the key into the lock, the scent of air fresheners and fresh linen hit his nose, the nostalgia almost sweeping him off his feet. The same housekeeper probably still works here.

That theory was confirmed as he slipped past the door, locking it behind him as he set his shoes off to the side. There was not a speck of dust anywhere to be seen in that entranceway. Every surface smelled of artificial cleaners and disuse.

He took in the surroundings as he wandered down the hall, hands in his pockets, until he made his way to their living room. His eyes immediately jumped to the most notable thing in the room- a large family portrait hanging over the fireplace. His father had commissioned the piece when Riku had entered grade school, but nothing about the image portrayed a typical family. The sight of his father's scowling, stern face, his mother's cold, icy blue eyes, and the young, round-faced boy who had been stuffed into a plaid, trim suit made his skin crawl. It just… didn't feel normal.

A part of him was a little shocked to still see the portrait up. It had always been the one piece of evidence that proved there were three inhabitants in that house, since neither of his parents were ever home at the same time, always off on business trips or stuck in meetings.

The only other thing in the room was a trophy case in the corner, a collection displaying the numerous certificates and medals and trophies Riku had collected in his youth. He had built it himself. His parents had never paid it any heed, though.

The teen sauntered over to examine the collection, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he saw just how many blitzball trophies he had accumulated. "Back then, this was all that mattered," he murmured to himself, eyes glazing over nostalgically as old images resurfaced in his mind- leaving practice with Tidus and Wakka, meeting up with Sora and Kairi by the beach afterwards to hang out, and showing off his trophies and medals at the end of every competition and season as he and his friends enjoyed ice cream together to celebrate his achievements.

His mind jumped back to why he had come back home. He turned away from the trophy case. Those were just memories of a different life. He had other goals now.

Continuing down the empty hall, he marvelled at how bleak the house felt. No matter how beautifully furnished it was, finding the perfect balance of sleek, classic and minimalistic, it just didn't feel like a home, no matter how he spun it. His mind jumped to days of squeezing onto a tiny stool around Sora's three-person dining table with the brunet's parents, the unofficial second child in their happy home. He smiled. That was a home.

There was only one room in the house which interested him at all. His curiosity was almost morbid- he genuinely had no idea what to expect. He climbed the stairs, running his fingers along the ornate banister as he ascended. Eventually he found the door he was looking for- plain and unmarked, just like always.

Taking a deep breath, he flung open the door, eyes clenched shut. Immediately, he regretted that action as dust flew in his face, sending him into a mild coughing fit. Riku groaned, flicking on the light and opening his eyes, bracing himself for whatever might be inside.

His old bedroom was exactly as he had left it. That room had always been his one haven- his parents never moderated how he had decorated it. Still, standing there now, Riku could tell that his parents' influence had still been strong, as the walls were mostly barren save for a few posters, his desk clean and uncluttered, and his shelves tidy except for some piles of video games and figurines.

However, unlike the last time he had entered, everything in the room was coated in a thick layer of dust. He sneezed as he stepped inside, a heavy weight sinking in the pit of his stomach. It was like they hadn't even looked for a clue as to where he had gone.

An intrusive thought filled him with dread momentarily before he banished far, far away. Do they even know that I left?

He refused to even acknowledge that question.

Before he left, a small detail caught his eye. Unlike what he would have expected, the bedspread wasn't dusty at all. In fact, it was wrinkled, and an area of his nightstand was dust-free as well. He frowned, picking up the one thing on the nightstand that looked like it had been cleaned fairly recently.

It was a photograph of him and Sora at the beach when they were kids, when they had first been taken to the tiny island where they would spend the rest of their childhoods playing. Sora's father had brought them out there in his boat, taking the sweetest picture of the two boys, wide smiles and missing front teeth on display as they played in the sand. It was a picture Riku had always treasured- after all, his parents didn't have any albums of his childhood the way Sora's parents practically worshipped Sora's baby photos. In fact, Sora's parents likely had more photos of Riku than what the silver-haired teen could hope to find in his own home.

He smiled fondly at the two boys in the photo, mind jumping back to innocent days playing in the sand. Everything had always been fine, as long as Sora was there- he had never felt lonely, no matter how empty this house had been, because the brunet had only been a few steps down the road.

His best friend's face transformed in his mind's eye back to the current Sora, the one who had sat with him on the shores of nothingness in the Realm of Darkness, the one who had held out his hand and brought Riku back to the Islands. The one who cried, clutching onto his hand when he had found Riku again, regardless of the fact that he had looked like one of their greatest enemies. Nothing's really changed between us, huh? he thought, chuckling softly. You're still the only person who ever really gave me a home.

With that, he removed the photo from the frame and slipped it into his pocket. There was no point leaving it in his abandoned room, after all.

He took another long look at the wrinkled duvet. He didn't know what it was supposed to mean. And yet, a part of him didn't care.

Riku ran a hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a deep sigh. "I should leave them a note downstairs," he said aloud, leaving behind his soulless bedroom. There was always a notepad by the door for the staff to leave messages for his parents- he could write a small note to them with that.

Furrowing his brow, Riku started wandering amidst his thoughts, trying to figure out what to write on the note. Should he sign it with his name? Should he explain the whole situation? There weren't enough words in the world to describe what he and Sora had gone through over the last two years, so how in the world should he start?

Caught up in his own thoughts, Riku completely missed the sound of the front door opening, only to find himself standing face-to-face with a familiar platinum blonde woman with pale blue eyes in the foyer.

She's home.

For a long, long moment, the two of them stared at one another. In her heels and sleek blazer and pencil skirt, his mother had always looked like the epitome of professional. Her cold glare could halt Riku in his tracks, could shut down anything he wanted to say or ask for. When he was younger, the tall woman had seemed like a looming, formidable figure towering over him, giving him discreet orders before disappearing into her own office to continue working through the night.

He was taller than her now.

In just a few short years, he had shot up past her. As he looked at the greying streaks in her hair, the wrinkles in her forehead that her makeup just couldn't cover, the taut scowl lines around her mouth, he realized that much more time had passed than he had thought. It hadn't just been he who had changed.

After what felt like an eternity, Riku decided it was time. "I'm sorry to intrude," he mumbled, clasping his hands primly behind his back as he waited for her response.

The answer never came. Instead, keeping her face just a tightly drawn as before, she tore her gaze away from his. She slipped off her heels, placed them onto the shoe rack, and walked elegantly down the hallway, breezing past him effortlessly. The scent of her perfume- something light and just as cold as she had always been- trailed after her, leaving him still standing there, facing the door.

It was like she hadn't even seen him.

His heart crumpled in on itself. He hadn't known what to expect, but this? This was all he got? His mind reeled, the realization that she was so indifferent at his reappearance, so impassive about his presence, so uncaring when her only child was finally home-

He clearly stood there for longer than he had thought, as beeping from the microwave shook him out of his thoughts. Tentatively, he made his way down the hall to the kitchen to be greeted by the sight of his mother facing away from him. Her blazer hung on the back of one of the beautiful mahogany chairs around the dining table, the surface still just as clean and unused as ever. Her hands were on her hips as she watched the microwave timer count down, and Riku's eyes were drawn to the garbage she had left behind on the counter- the wrappers of two microwave dinners.

Wordlessly, she pulled two containers from the heat and brought them over to the island in the center of the kitchen, placing both of them down with a fork. Taking a seat on a stool, she peeled back the plastic and began to eat, ignoring the presence of her son.

Riku felt his knees shake. Is that… for me? Wide-eyed, he walked over to the island, slipping onto the stool opposite to the woman. He looked down at the food, back up to her. Peeling back the plastic, he coughed as the steam hit his face, but he gave the food a try anyways. It was, unsurprisingly, bland and upsetting, a poor excuse for a proper meal.

"I thought the housekeeper cooked your meals," he murmured, pushing around mushy brown rice in the plastic container.

She finished her meal- it scant took her two minutes to eat the entire thing, the portion was tiny- and murmured in her quiet, strained way, "No point in asking a housekeeper to cook meals that may not be eaten."

Growing up, Riku had always eaten meals made by their housekeepers. Hell, it was the nannies and babysitters and staff that had taught him to cook a little, too. His parents just didn't cook- there wasn't enough time on the planet for them to even bother.

At least with me around, there were always healthy leftovers in the fridge to heat up, Riku understood sadly.

Before he could say another word, she stood, taking her container and tossing it into the sink. He reached out a hand to stop her, but she ignored him, striding down the hall and up the stairs to the washroom. In a few minutes, he could hear the shower turning on, and he slumped over in his chair.

"How the hell have you been living?" he whispered aloud, hearing his own voice crack. He pushed around the soggy vegetables in his microwave-meal, but finally gave up on it, tossing it into the sink alongside hers. Pulling out a pot and some ingredients from the pantry, he let out a tired sigh and got to work.

By the time he had finished cooking, however, there was still no sign of the woman. He frowned, gingerly heading up the stairs and knocking on her bathroom door. "Are… are you okay?"

There was no response, nor was there any light from underneath the door.

His skin crawled, hairs rising apprehensively on his bare arms as he knocked harder. "Hello? Hey, are-"

A muffled squeak caught his attention. It was coming not from the bathroom, but from his bedroom.

Riku's steps were slow, careful not to make a sound as he approached the source of the quiet noise. As he got closer, however, the sound becoming more and more apparent, more and more obvious as to what it could be.

But… she wouldn't…

He pushed open his door, finding his mother slumped over, seated on the edge of his bed in her pyjamas, hair dripping wet all over the duvet. Her shoulders were shaking, body wracked in convulsions so strong they looked almost painful. Her hair hanging down over her face blocked her expression, and Riku could only stand and watch in horror and confusion for an instant before suddenly, she gasped for air and her face lifted.

She was crying. Sobbing, shaking, his mother- the woman who had never been anything but the cold guardian who signed his paperwork and occasionally went for parent-teacher interviews as if they were brief business meetings- was falling apart, seated on the edge of his bed. One hand was balled up, thin fingers clenched so tightly in a fist that her skin was truly white as she bit down on her knuckle, trying to muffle the cries. In her other hand was empty frame that Riku had looked at earlier, the one which used to contain the photograph of him and Sora when they were kids.

She was crying.

She missed me.

That realization struck him to the core.

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it again. The words didn't come, although his mind raced, flooding with everything he had wanted to say, everything he had rehearsed for so, so long-

The conflicted feelings in his heart screamed for a resolution he couldn't possibly find. On one hand, he wanted to break down, wanted to cry, wanted to ask for her forgiveness and her love the way he was sure Sora would do in his place.

But on the other hand, there was no way to reconcile the confusion, the bitterness that growled deep within him. Why was she crying? Why was she upset? If she had truly missed him in his absence, why did it feel so foreign to him?

Half the reason why he had wanted to leave Destiny Islands all his life was because he didn't think he'd be really leaving anyone behind.

She let out another choked gasp, and his eyes flew back to her, meeting her pale blue eyes, wide with shock and embarrassment. Something in his broke. He didn't even realize he had moved before his arms were around her shoulders, holding his mother in a warm hug,

"I'm back," he whispered, pushing down the discomfort the rose as she trembled in his arms. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing just as tightly, still not saying a word.

"I'm sorry I left," he continued.

She was quiet, her sobs shifting into what was almost like hyperventilation as she tried to catch her breath, calming her tremors.

"I…" All the things he had wanted to say died in his throat. The goal of this trip had been to explain it all- explain what had happened, talk about why he had left, where he was going… and how he might not ever come back.

But as her breathing calmed down, the tears subsiding in mother and son, he let go of her, standing up first.

Letting out one final exhausted breath, the woman whispered, "Why did you come back now?"

He smiled sadly, the words still slipping away from him. Eventually, he gave up trying to explain himself. "Come downstairs," he invited, sniffing as he wiped his last tears away.

It was ten minutes before the woman re-emerged from her bedroom, robed and hair wrapped neatly in a towel. Riku was packing the rest of the fragrant pasta into some containers. He smiled tentatively when he saw the crease in her brow, now so much more prominent without her makeup, the redness around her eyes and nose the only evidence of her breakdown only minutes earlier.

The slight rise in one thin eyebrow cued him to explain. The boy placed a small plate back onto the kitchen island where she had sat earlier and clarified, "This should be a bit healthier than instant meals."

She sat down and stared at the food, not making a move to eat it. A sudden wave of embarrassment left him feeling awkward and uncomfortable- maybe he had stepped out of line. Riku sighed, putting the containers away in the nearly-empty refrigerator.

There was a paper laying on the countertop beside the fridge- a copy of a memorandum. He picked it up and slipped into the seat across from her, skimming the correspondence to avoid looking at the woman.

The message written below detailed his father's current situation- a business trip out of town, just as usual. He snorted lightly, but there was no sense of loss there. The man had barely been present all his life- it was almost fitting that he wasn't there now that Riku had come to properly say goodbye.

"It's delicious." The sudden words were quiet, poised, and his eyes darted up to see her slowly digging into the pasta. Her fork continued to bring bite after bite to her mouth, methodical as always.

"Really?" he breathed.

"…Yes." There was a quiver to her voice, though, despite her apparent calm- for just one fleeting moment, Riku saw her eyes flash up to meet his, nothing but embarrassed, clumsy warmth shining from those pale blue.

The silver-haired boy let out a quiet sigh. Standing up and stretching his back, he glanced over to the oven's clock- he had some time to kill before he was supposed to meet Sora, but a little voice in his head knew that it was time for him to go.

This place wasn't his home- not really. It didn't mean that he didn't care about it all the same- it just wasn't where he was meant to be.

Gingerly stepping around the table, he wrapped his arms around his mother's shoulders for just a brief moment, biting back a wince as she stiffened in surprise. It was only a moment before he let go, stepping back to look at her, standing tall.

"It's time for me to go," he announced.

She took one last bite of food before glancing up at him in surprise. "You're… you're not staying, are you." It was a statement, not a question. Her furrowed brow and tense posture gave away her confusion, her concern. "Where will you go?"

"I need to go help my friends," he explained quietly.

"Your friends were the ones who you disappeared with?"

Looking at his feet, he toed the carpet uncomfortably. "I… I did some things I need to atone for. There are things only I can do now. It's my duty."

She didn't respond.

Smiling reproachfully, he lightened his tone, adding, "Eat well. No more microwave dinners."

"You're hardly the one to say that-" she spluttered out indignantly.

"You've lost weight," he murmured. "You need to eat."

The woman rolled her eyes, running her fingers through her greying platinum blonde hair, pushing it out of her face.

Riku softened, taking a step towards her. Before he could get too close again, however, he stopped himself, balling his fists up by his side and smiling ruefully at the woman sitting in front of him.

"…Take care, alright?"

The woman bit her lip, crumpling her napkin with one hand while pushing around sauce on her now-empty plate. Finally, she deflated, crumpling in what could only be described as defeat.

She knew that she had no right to stop him. She replied, "You too, Riku."

He beamed at being addressed for the first time that night. Knowing that she wanted to stop him… that she wanted him to stay… "I will… Mom."

With that, the boy turned on his heel and stepped towards the door, silently slipping on his shoes. He didn't revisit his old bedroom again, didn't look at the stern family photo on the mantle, didn't think of how he hadn't even seen his father or spoken about what was really happening to the worlds or what Riku had done over the last few years. He didn't bother wondering how she would've reacted if he'd told her the truth, the stakes of their mission, or the fact that he may never come home again.

He didn't even deign a thought towards how she had noticed the bags under his eyes, the scars on his heart, just as he had seen hers- or how she had said nothing. She had never said anything all his life, after all. It wasn't like her to start saying anything now.

And yet, as he stepped off the long, prim driveway back onto the street, he couldn't help but pause and glance back up at the empty house he was leaving behind. Standing on the porch, mug of tea in hand and all the weariness in the world on her shoulders was his mother, watching him go. Their gazes connected and she visibly jumped. However, instead of backing down, she simply raised her other hand, waving awkwardly at her son. There was a glow to her face- maybe it was the light from the corridor illuminating her from behind, or perhaps it was embarrassment at being caught in the act of seeing him off.

She had never watched him leave before.

His heart burst, eyes flooding with tears that he desperately blinked away at her sudden presence, her sudden care.

She cared. Maybe she even had cared all along, and had just never known how to show it.

Riku raised his hand, waved goodbye to the woman he'd always wanted to know, and jogged off towards the beach, towards the kids' play island. The old, familiar branch of the paopu tree where he used to hang out with Sora was beckoning him, and even though the younger boy was likely still with his own parents, Riku knew the brunet would find him there. Riku had some thinking to do.

With a spring in his step, Riku headed out, smiling as he felt his mother's eyes follow him all the way down the street until he was out of sight. It was a new feeling. He'd carry it in his heart, always.