Sora's friends probably thought he was insane.
Scratch that, they definitely thought he was insane. Why? Because he was in love with a TV host. More specifically, a guy who ran his own cooking show.
Every Wednesday, Sora would clear his entire schedule for the day so that he could sit down for one hour and watch his TV crush turn regular food into something that looked like it came out of a magazine. It wasn't even like he was one of those people who would try to cook at the same time so that a meal turned out well, or even that he was going to write down the recipe for later. Not at all. Sora, by and by, only wanted to sit and stare at the 'silver-haired cooking god' (as he so quaintly put it), Riku.
The brunette knew he was rather delusional, becoming so enraptured by a man he was never going to meet, one who was pretty famous because of the success of his show, but dreams were for dreaming. He was a dreamer if he was nothing else (he'd even go so far as to say he was a dreamer before he was human, but that was a bit too Freudian for his mind).
Like he was four (or fourteen) again, as soon as the TV started playing that familiar music, he was frozen, body curled and rigid, eyes locked on the screen. He barely registered anything else, even the sounds from the program. He wasn't there for the literary genius that wasn't a cooking show. He was there for the sexy genius that was Riku Stalt. Just his voice was enough to send shivers spiraling through his tense body (vaguely it registered somewhere in the back of his mind that his looks could be one of the only reasons he was actually successful. Sora studiously ignored it). If someone were to ask Sora about what the man had been cooking, he would've mumbled something about steak before going into a full on gush-rant about how hot Riku had looked.
Sora knew he was insane as well as his friends did, but he didn't care. He was happy in his world, pretending that the god on screen was cooking for him, talking to him, looking at him specifically instead of the audience in general. His little world was perfect, because it had nothing but him and his Wednesdays.
And then Roxas told him that the same Silver-haired deity he drooled over was coming to their mall to do a demonstration in the kitchen appliances department of some store Sora had never heard of.
He'd stared for a long moment. Just stared. Then, when it all worked its way through his brain, Sora flew into a frenzy of questions and fanboy-obsession.
After he'd wrung every last drop of information, every detail he could manage out of Roxas, he flopped into bed, dreamy smile floating across his face, happily waiting for the day two weeks from then that would bring him and his love together.
-Sable