Title: on the cross
Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)
Notes: Written for kh_request. Dark, some strong language. Violence and blood. Christian imagery used in not-so-Christian ways.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't claim to own them.
"Tell me," Roxas says, winter in his voice, even as sweat drips down his face and his coat clings to him like a second skin. "Tell me," he says, calm, collected, even as his chest is still heaving from all the fighting and dodging, all the kissing and killing. "Tell me his name, Riku, and I'll make it all stop."
It?
Riku says nothing, but he pants, too - feels sweat dripping down his cheeks mixing with tears, and tries to wipe the wetness away. He can't; arms stretched straight out on the cross, legs held down tight enough to keep him from kicking and running and more.
Roxas thought it was a bit much at first - hauling the unconscious boy, blindfold tossed aside, to the wooden cross and tying him up with rope like a victim, like a martyr, like a savior. It was only for decoration, he thought, but the church was vacant and he couldn't get an answer from the people-turned-Heartless outside, pounding on the doors to get to the only heart (a useless heart, a black heart) left in the world. It was a bit much, at first, to see Riku with his head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, almost - almost... peaceful? Almost perfect? Candles reflecting mournfully against his rain-soaked coat and bright banners behind him like he was something other than a jackass who chased Roxas from world to world, something other than a prick who refused to tell him what he wanted, something other than an idiot who was too slow, too slow and was waking up too damn slowly for Roxas' thinning patience.
There was more than one way to wake someone up, more than one way to get their attention, more than one way to make them look at you, and although he swore there was a cry of protest from the squirming Heartless watching from the window, Roxas drove the nails through perfect pale hands and - oh, the confused murmur, the sand in his eyes - the scream. Roxas had thought he knew all of Riku's noises before - the grunts and yells and smarmy retorts, the pants and gasps and little victory noises when he (sometimes) managed to land a kick to Roxas' side. But these screams were the best, simply exquisite, the bee's fucking knees. The ankles were just as quaint, just as beautiful, but the first scream was still Roxas' favorite.
But Riku isn't doing much screaming now. Only breathing, drawing in gulps of air and trying to glare at Roxas even though he (the stuck-up bastard he is) must realize that things are looking pretty hopeless for him.
"Tell me," he says again, though by now he's starting to sound like a whiny little boy. Maybe it's a lost cause - a lost cause for a lost boy. "I," and as he says it, he climbs the velvet stairs leading to the cross, "want to know who my Other is." He glances at Riku's ankles, bleeding and trembling and looking like hell. (Although they should, no one's ankles would look sparkle-sparkle pretty after that.) "If you tell me, I'll give you a High Potion and you can get out of here. Chase me again. Whatever."
Riku shakes his head, hair stuck to his face with sweat. "N..." He doesn't get the word out - too hard, too painful. If he talks, he'll scream. Again. Screaming made Roxas smile.
Roxas smiles, anyway. "Fine. Then I'll go open those doors and watch the Heartless steal your heart. I can just make Axel tell me." It's a lie - Axel has already professed ignorance, though Roxas knows it's all harlequin lies. But Riku doesn't know that, and he looks up - eyes bright and focused in the simmering flickering light.
"I won't..." he begins, but Roxas knows what he's doing, knows how to do this just right - he pulls the nails out of Riku's ankles and tosses them away, a clitter-clatter on the floor.
Riku almost - so close, so far - shrieks, but bites down on his tongue fast and hard enough for blood to pool in his mouth.
Roxas shrugs, sighs, and absently finger-fucks a candle on a nearby table. "All right, whatever. We'll meet again when you're a Heartless, maybe."
He turns on his heel and - "W-wait!" - turns back around, looking up expectantly.
"Yes?" (He's a boy, a child, a little kid smiling through candy-coated teeth as the neighbor kid is spanked for something he didn't do.)
"It's S... it's S...," he mumbles through a copper mouthful, and blood drip-drop-drips onto Roxas' cheek like secret kisses. "It's Sora."
Roxas inhales, but says nothing. Nails are hauled out of Riku's wrists like candles on a birthday cake. Riku falls, and Roxas doesn't catch him. He only sets a potion in front of Riku's bruising face and disappears into the darkness.
Riku's hands are shuddering, almost useless.
His fingers tap against the potion glass like so many silver coins.