HI GUYS. GUESS WHAT THIS IS. so you may or may not know, depending on how much whining I do in my review responses or whether or not you've ever read anything else of mine, but I've been working on this soriku one-shot since...October. it's been like pulling teeth. BUT GUESS WHAT, IT'S DONE. I FINISHED IT. WOOOOO. AND AND AND...it's in game. it features sora and riku as the lead pairing, not just a side dish. THERE'S EVEN ONLY A VERY SLIGHT FLASH OF AKUROKU IN THERE (but uh...yeah it's there. it's unavoidable. oops.). clearly, the world is ending (speaking of, glad to see you all survived the rapture...heard the new date is October 21 now...look forward to me posting a post-apocalyptic story on October 22).
things I want to say first: there's some heavy abuse of alcohol in this story. the way Riku uses alcohol in here is horrible, terrible, and extremely unhealthy, both physically and emotionally. that being said, I am NOT saying that alcohol in general is the root of all evil. I'm really not. I'm almost 22, I just graduated from college, and I was in a sorority. alcohol and I are very good friends. no judgment for anyone, whether they're pro or anti drinking...just saying that this story is just one way in which a person can, unfortunately, abuse alcohol. this public service announcement brought to you by crazies-r-us over here: STAY IN SCHOOL.
(shut up, you guys love me)
things I own: a various assortment of shot glasses, wine bottles, and beer, a copy of Ludo's Prepare the Preparations album, a pretty kick-ass drawing of Oathkeeper, if I do say so myself.
things I don't own: anyone and anything mentioned in this story. literally everything belongs to either A. Square Enix or B. Ludo. the title, Rotten Town comes from the song "Rotten Town" by Ludo. it's about a pirate who wakes up one morning and realizes that he's a drunk loser who hates his life. yeah, you should listen to it stat.
this story also has a pretty awesome playlist, if you're interested PM or leave a review and I'll send you the track list. I'm going to stop talking now.
Rotten Town
There were only four bars within a reasonable distance (reasonable being places he could get to without having to take a boat) that actually served alcohol. Riku knew this information first hand, had made a habit of visiting each and every eatery on the main island, and had narrowed it down to only four that could or would serve him something more than just paopu fruit juice.
There were only four bars in all of Destiny Islands that actually served alcohol, so it took a very limited amount of time for Riku to become a regular at each and every one, greeting the bartenders by name, ordering a steady round of "the usual" to be put on his "tab."
He wasn't an alcoholic, was far from an alcoholic, would never do such a terrible thing to his body. He was, first and foremost, a Keyblade Master, but lately that didn't seem to matter so much. Regardless of whether or not his keyblade sliced anything more than air these days he still kept his body in perfect form, his skills at top game. It wasn't like he'd developed some kind of systematic schedule, rotating through the bars on nights they were least likely to be crowded, hiding in a dark corner and drinking himself into a stupor. It was just...
...sometimes he needed a drink or two to be able to fall asleep at night, and sometimes a drink or two turned into a drink or five. Lately it seemed that the only way he could guarantee that he slept without dreaming was if he was drunk enough that he barely remembered going to sleep. Besides, Sora had this charming little habit of showing up just in time to stop Riku from ordering the drink that would put him over the edge, and even though he wasn't technically old enough to be in the building most of the bartenders knew him (most of the island knew them both, it was hard not to at least know of the two boys who had a habit of disappearing without a word for years at a time) well enough to let him in, to drag his best friend off the bar stool (or the bar, if it happened to be a vodka night) and out of the bar.
It was unfortunate, really, and by unfortunate he meant a blessing from Fate herself, that Sora couldn't partake, wasn't quite eighteen yet, and was therefore unable to join Riku. Not that Sora ever would have, not that Sora would ever so much as take a sip of a glass of wine, but sometimes it would be nice to have the company, and sometimes it would be a disaster to have Sora sitting so close and smelling so sweet, especially on the nights that Riku drank tequila.
Tonight, though, tonight was a vodka night, a lets get crazy, dance with anyone willing to grind up against him, rely on the pulsing bass to steady his heartbeat kind of night.
"I've been looking everywhere for you." Sora frowned at his best friend, sharp glare not missing the way it took Riku several seconds to focus on the brunet's face. He'd found the silver-haired teen in the middle of a decently crowded dance floor at the only club on the island. Of all Riku's haunts, this was Sora's least favorite; always the most crowded, always meant Riku was going to be exceptionally sloppy, and always filled with people he should have gone to school with.
"Only so many places to look, So." Riku slurred, throwing back the last few drops of whatever was left in his glass. Sora could hear the way the ice clattered against Riku's white teeth, the sharp crunch as he bit down on one half-melted piece. "'Sides, I like to keep you guessing."
"Oh yes," Sora rolled his eyes, crossing sinewy arms over his chest. "I love this game. Lets play it some more. How many of those have you had anyway?"
"Four." Riku insisted, holding up five fingers. "Why, did you want one?"
"No." The brunet left little room in his tone for argument, tugging the silver haired man, though really, he was just a boy, away from the girl he'd been dancing (if that's what you wanted to call it) with. One arm wrapped around the taller boy's narrow waist, holding him upright, while the other fished through Riku's pockets, feeling around for a credit card. "Tab?"
"None," the taller boy slurred, still pouting. "Paid per drink. Wasn't really planning on staying."
"Liar." Sora rolled his eyes, taking the empty glass from Riku's hand and dropping it on a small ledge they passed on their way out. "You only come here when you want to get shit-faced and dance."
Riku gasped, one handing jumping up to cover his mouth, and Sora pulled back slightly, wary expression trained on the other's pale face. If Riku threw up on him again...
"You," the silver-haired boy said, scandalized tone highly over-exaggerated, "said shit-faced. Saint. Sora. Cursed."
Sora slapped a hand to his forehead, shaking his head as Riku trailed off into laughter, the arm closest to Sora coming up to ruffle the brown spikes before settling against his shoulders, mirroring Sora's arm around the taller boy's waist.
It was hard to hate him like this. Sora wanted to be furious at Riku, wanted to rip into him and tear him apart for what he was doing to himself, what he was doing to their friendship, what he was doing to Sora, even, but it was so hard to hate Riku for drinking when it was the only time he got to see this side of him. Sober Riku didn't laugh anymore. Sober Riku didn't laugh, didn't tease him, didn't ruffle his hair or wrestle with him or play video games with him. Sober Riku was stoic and tense, remorseful and repentant to the point where he'd caved in on himself, a shell of himself, so ridden with guilt that it had eaten him from the inside out.
"You're an idiot," he said fondly, using the fingers still curled around Riku's hip to pinch a bit of bare skin where his black tank had ridden up. "Can we go now?"
The walk back to their neighborhood was filled with Riku's mindless chatter, Sora nodding at random intervals, but if Riku noticed he didn't comment. He was surprisingly agreeable tonight, content to let Sora lead him up the porch steps, watching the brunet from under silver bangs as Sora fumbled through Riku's pockets yet again, this time for a house key. He let the taller boy in with a small sigh, pressing one finger to his lips in a reminder to stay quiet. Riku, still quite obliging, tiptoed (rather gracefully, considering his level of intoxication) almost silently to the staircase, crossing the smooth tile floor on the landing and beelining straight towards his room.
Sora followed him in quietly, pausing intermittently to pick up the shoes Riku had discarded at the bottom of the stairs, the shirt left crumpled halfway down the hallway, the belt hooked over the door knob. Riku had made it as far as his bed, collapsed face down and semi-spread eagle on top of the soft white comforter, the bottom half of him still clothed and one foot still on the floor.
"Come on," Sora sighed, shoving his best friend's legs so that his entire body was on the bed. "You gonna take those jeans off, or do I have to do it for you?"
"Never thought I'd see the day you'd be trying to get me out of my pants, So-ra," Riku purred, lazily rolling onto his back as his hands slid down to his fly. Sora pointedly avoiding watching the entirely too sensual way Riku dragged his fingers down his chest. "All you have to do is ask, babe."
"You left her at the club, remember? I am neither drunk nor a girl."
"Are you saying," Riku smirked, lifting his hips as he slid his jeans down taught thighs, "that if you were drunk you'd be trying to get into my pants?"
"You'll never know." Sora said solemnly. His ears were on fire, he could feel the heat radiating off them from the force of his blush. "You sure you don't want to brush your teeth or anything? Bathroom? God knows you smell like you used vodka as mouthwash."
"That's lovely, So, thank you. See if you get in my pants now." Riku's voice was muffled by the pillow he currently had his face pressed into, wiggling his way under the comforter. Sora repressed the urge to smile as he finished pulling the blanket over his friend.
"You're an insufferable ass." Sora rolled his eyes good-naturedly. It was so hard to hate Riku like this. "And tomorrow, I'm going to hand you your insufferable, hungover ass on a silver platter. So go to sleep."
"Love you too." Riku mumbled, voice still garbled by the pillow. He was already half asleep by the time Sora reached the door, glancing back for one last check before leaving the room.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, sneaking quietly down the stairs, "love you."
As far as Sora knew, what little he understood from movies and TV shows and the occasional observation, Riku defied all laws of drinking. Here he was, less than four hours since Sora left him face down on his mattress, sitting cross-legged on the sand looking for all the world like Sora was the one who'd been out all night, frowning at him with a single raised eyebrow. Fine, Sora was fifteen minutes late, and okay, he wasn't really completely awake yet, but that was only because someone had been out until 2:30 and needed to have his ass dragged home.
"I really don't understand how you do it." Sora grumbled, dropping bodily on the ground next to Riku. The older boy's frown deepened; they didn't talk about what Riku did at night while the sun was still out. Still, Sora didn't understand how Riku was even sober, let alone up with the sun. He wasn't much of a morning person though, particularly not after only three hours of sleep, and didn't argue with the silent glare Riku leveled him with. Stretching in silence, right, that was just how Sora liked it.
They did this every morning. Every morning, rain or shine, weekday or weekend, regardless of whether it had been three hours or three weeks since the last time Riku drank. Every morning Sora would meet his best friend on the shore of their little play island at sunrise. They would stretch, they would run laps around the island, both distance and sprints, and then they would duel.
Riku ran him through everything with a military-like precision. Hand to hand combat, keyblade against keyblade, any attempt at a drive form he could manage, even sometimes having a go at duel wielding, although Sora never liked that very much. He had to let in a little bit too much of Roxas to summon that second blade, and that always left him shaking and miserable. He never said as much, but Sora could tell that Riku never liked it either. Roxas' presence, be it physical or just a casual mention of the Nobody, made Riku's hands shake and his eyes turn dark. Sora tried not to talk about him.
"What are we doing today?" Sora asked after almost twenty minutes of silence, slowing to a halt as he finally caught up with Riku. The older teen watched him with a critical stare, teal eyes narrowed against the rising sun.
"Single blade combat?" Riku suggested, Soul Eater already materializing between his fingers. Sora nodded, mentally rifling through his keychain collection. Ultima Weapon was obviously his best, and most powerful, option, but he never really liked fighting with that blade, and it was by far the hardest to summon. Oblivion was his favorite, but it always felt weird fighting Riku with the blade he'd inspired. Oathkeeper usually made them both miserable, a blatant reminder of the gaping hole Kairi had left in both of them. Roxas' influence always led to Sora favoring Bond of Flame, but if reminding Riku of Roxas was bad, reminding Riku of both Roxas and Axel at the same time was suicide.
"Just pick one," Riku hissed through grit teeth. Sora jumped, fingers flexing automatically. He felt the cool hilt settling against his palm before he'd even realized which key he'd chosen, the black blade glinting in the sunlight.
"Good choice." They began circling each other on the sand, blue and green eyes leveled unrestrainedly on each other. Neither boy made an attempt to move closer, to make the first move to start the fight. Sora ignored the way the sunlight shone off both black blades.
"Of course you think it is," Sora scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You like when I use Oblivion because it gives you a better chance at disarming me."
"Then you shouldn't pick a blade I can use." Riku shot back, fingers tightening on his own blade. Of all Sora's keychains Oblivion was the only one Riku could wield as though the blade was his own. It took away the advantage of being able to summon his weapon if he were disarmed, but that involved letting Riku get close enough to disarm him.
And there, Sora suspected, lay the problem. For all his training, every morning for years now, most afternoons too, if Sora was right about where Riku disappeared to, and all his experience fighting both light and dark, Riku had never once managed to beat Sora in a fair fight. Not once, not without using Sora's own doubts against him, or using Kairi, or even using darkness against Roxas. Riku had never managed to beat Sora in a fair duel, just the two of them alone on the beach, and Sora could only guess what that was doing to his best friend's head.
Still, it didn't stop him from trying.
Sora, as usual, was the first to break the circle. Patience was never one of his strong points, and Riku, stubborn as a mule and patient enough to watch paint dry, could have spent the next hour doing nothing but dancing around him. The brunet lunged forward, Oblivion slicing through the air at his side, a direct shot towards Riku's ribs.
The blades clashed with the familiar clang of metal on metal, the sound Sora had grown to know better than some of his old friends' voices. These sounds, the rustle of wind through the holes in his blades, the clang of the keyblades as they collided, the sharp gasps and pants, the gritting of teeth and the groaning of protesting muscles. This was the soundtrackhis life provided him with, the sounds that replaced the pounding of raindrops on his roof and the idle chatter of his parents in the next room.
Sora ducked just in time, Riku's blade slicing through the air where his head had been seconds before, close enough that he felt Riku's knuckles brush against the spikes of his hair. The older teen growled in frustration, jumping backwards a step as he glared at his friend.
"Stop daydreaming." He snapped, bring Soul Eater back down to his side. "Either fight, or call it a day."
"'Mnot," Sora mumbled, feeling for all the world like a chastised student. He flipped his fingers around the hilt until the keyblade lay backwards in his palm, blade facing out behind him. This was a newer stance, something that had started feeling more and more natural to him lately, and it came from a different place within him than Bond of Flame and duel wielding did. Riku eyed Oblivion with that same critical stare, nodding once as Sora's fingers tightened around the hilt.
"Fine." He said shortly. "Then fight."
Fighting backhand should have given Riku an advantage. It was a new style for Sora, something he rarely ever used in actual battle, and something he was still trying to acclimate to. If it actually did provide any help for the older Keyblade Master, it wasn't much. Sora had him flat on his back twenty minutes later, one knee on either side of Riku's ribs, right fist inches from the sand as he leveled the black blade over Riku's pale neck.
He waited until Soul Eater had vanished before he dismissed Oblivion. It wasn't that he didn't trust Riku, he trusted Riku with his life. He'd just learned the hard way (and here that one Organization member always flashed to mind, the blond one with the weird instrument-like weapon) that underestimating your opponent was the biggest mistake you could make in battle. Still, the second Riku released his grip on his blade Sora relaxed, pushing himself to his feet before offering a gloved hand down to his best friend.
Riku ignored it. It was possible, Sora supposed, that he didn't see it, or that he was already halfway to his feet by the time he noticed it, but this was naïve, wishful thinker Sora trying to rationalize what he already knew. Riku, apart from when they fought and when he was out of his mind drunk, didn't touch Sora anymore.
"So," Sora said, bending over to dust the sand off his calves. "I'm meeting up with Wakka and Tidus later. I think we're just grabbing dinner, maybe watching the blitzball game at Tidus's house after. You could come, if you want." He glanced back up again, watching Riku's face hopefully.
"Sorry," Riku said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. "You know blitzball's not really my thing." Sora watched for a few more breaths, blue eyes trailing the length of Riku's arms as the older boy raised them up over his head, fingers raking through silver hair damp with sweat. Riku said nothing, focusing entirely on tying his hair up with the short strip of leather wrapped around his wrist.
"Oookay," Sora drawled, scratching the back of his neck with one gloved hand. Riku leveled him with an expressionless stare, wordlessly nudging Sora along. "Okay. Well, I'm just gonna...I mean, unless you're coming?"
Riku shook his head, silver bangs sliding across his face, obscuring those aquamarine eyes. Sora sighed quietly, not particularly surprised but no less disappointed. He asked every day, just in case, holding out hope that maybe, just once, Riku might agree to come back with him. His best friend never really said what he was doing all alone out on the island here, but Sora didn't have to stretch his imagination too far to guess.
"Right," Sora let out another long breath, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "Okay. See you later." He shuffled off slowly, still kind of hoping that Riku would call after him, catch up with him, do something other than stand there with his hands at his sides, watching the brunet walk away from him.
They'd barely been back on Destiny Islands a few months before King Mickey had summoned them, calling them back out to take their Mark of Mastery Exams. It was two years before they saw home again; two years that hadn't been particularly kind to any of them. Riku had a new scar across his collarbone to match the one on his side, Sora on his chest and thigh.
They'd both...lost people. A lot of people. In as many different meanings of the word as you could muster. Some of them were just gone; no one had seen Cloud since the final battle, and as far as Sora knew Leon still hadn't come back from looking for him. Ven had died. After everything they'd gone through to save him, everything that Aqua and Terra had done for him, that Sora had done. Ventus had done it to save them, that same cheeky, cocksure grin on his face that Sora had flashed right before he impaled himself on his own keyblade, one final salute before he ran headlong into the darkness. Terra had tried to follow him, but Sora had felt it, felt the connection between them severed as Ven's heart beat for the last time.
Kairi had left them. Kairi was never supposed to be there in the first place; Sora and Riku had left without her, purposely left without telling her when, leaving nothing more than a third of a paopu and a promise in their places, but in typical Kairi fashion, she'd found her way to them anyway. Problem was, once she found herself back in Radiant Gardens, back in the city that needed its princess, she had a hard time leaving it. She had stayed behind with Cid and the others, stayed behind to help get the once-beautiful city truly back on its feet.
The doors between the worlds were closed. For now, it was permanent; even the Keyblade Masters couldn't use the pathways between the worlds. King Mickey and his team were doing the best they could to try and figure out why, to figure out how to reverse it, but since Sora and Riku still hadn't heard from them, they assumed that they hadn't made much progress. Or at least, Sora assumed. Riku had never actually said anything on the subject.
It had been six months since they came back here. Six months since King Mickey opened one last portal, since Kairi had tearfully kissed them both goodbye, since Sora had all but dragged Riku through, promising him that it wouldn't be forever, that it would only be until King Mickey and Yen Sid and Ansem got everything straightened out. It had been six months since Riku had looked at him, without the aid of an alcohol crutch, with any kind of emotion in his teal eyes.
Riku hated it here. And he hated Sora for bringing him back.
Sora turned around, just once, turning back over his shoulder as he pushed his little dingy off the dock. Far off in the distance, barely more than a spot on the horizon, he could see the flash of red and black metal glinting in the steadily rising sun.
He really had only meant to have one. He'd gone to the quiet little pub down the back alley of Main Street for a plate full of french fries and a pint, heady and thick with a nice skim of foam along the top, perfect for washing down the greasy sea-salt fries. Riku had just forgotten how good beer tasted, and he'd been so wrapped up in the taste that he finished the pint before he'd finished even half of his fries, and that just wouldn't due because the whole point had been to enjoy the fries with the beer, so he had to order another drink. That was three hours ago.
Riku liked the way the beer made him feel. He didn't drink it often, usually preferring the hard stuff over the surf lager he was drinking now, but at the moment he was having a hard time remembering why that was. Why wouldn't he drink beer more often? It made his whole body feel deliciously heavy and warm, and for the first time in a long time he didn't feel the burning need to constantly be moving. The beer weighed him down, anchored him into that quiet corner booth in that quiet corner pub, and just for tonight he didn't feel so much like he was in danger of floating away.
"I thought you didn't like beer," Sora frowned, sliding along the cheap plastic cushion until his and Riku's thighs were touching. The heat of Riku's skin burned through both layers of clothing, melting itself into Sora's side. Riku shrugged half-heartedly, jostling Sora's arm as he raised the hand still splayed around the foamy glass mug.
"Can't remember why," Riku slurred. He dropped the mug back down onto the table slightly harder than he probably meant to, wincing at the harsh clunk of solid glass against thick wood. Sora eyed the mug disdainfully, watching as Riku slid it back and forth between his palms.
"Paid your bill yet?" He asked finally, unnecessarily, already waving down a passing waitress. Riku grinned smugly, leaning back against the veneered wooden booth as he stretched both arms up over his head.
"And deny you the chance to go through my pockets for my credit card again?" Riku smirked. He trailed one hand down his torso with his back still arched, raking blunt nails across his tense stomach. Sora watched the way Riku's yellow t-shirt slid up his ribs from the corners of his eyes.
"Just give it to me," Sora sighed, holding one hand out expectantly. Riku pouted, pouted, of all things, shifting his weight to one side so he could reach into his back pocket and pull out a small leather wallet.
Neither of them spoke until they were back out on the street, Riku stumbling significantly more than Sora had expected him to over the smoothly-paved street.
"You okay?" Riku waved one hand dismissively, over-exaggerating slightly with the force of his whole arm. Sora leaned in closer, just a little bit, just in case Riku overbalanced.
"I," Riku declared, leveling Sora with a look that still managed to pierce through the foggy haze in Riku's aqua eyes, "am absolutely fine, Sora." He dropped his head down, silver hair falling across his face in sheets as his eyes suddenly glued themselves to the road under their feet. "Perfectly fucking fine."
Sora took another slight step to the side, bringing him just close enough that their arms brushed together with each step they took. Riku's skin was clammy against his own, warm and damp despite the cool night breeze shifting through the streets.
"I..." Sora trailed off, ignoring the way Riku tilted his head up to look at the younger teen. He had no idea what he was going to say anyway, had no idea what there even was to say to Riku, where to even begin. He scraped his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, letting out a quiet puff of breath as he dropped his arm back down to his side, the backs of his fingers brushing against Riku's.
They walked the rest of the way back to Riku's house in silence, the constant graze of skin against skin serving as the only acknowledgement of the other's presence. Riku was definitely drunk, that much Sora was sure about, but his best friend didn't seem to need his help much more than to pull him out of the bar. He had planned to just leave Riku at his front gate, maybe watch him until he got inside, just in case, but there was no need to follow him all the way upstairs.
Riku grabbed his wrist, wrapping long, slender fingers around the fabric of Sora's glove and effectively halting the smaller boy in his tracks. Sora glanced down, eyeing the hand curled around his arm, before sliding his ocean blue eyes back up, watching Riku's face expectantly. The silver-haired boy cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet.
"Do you...I mean...would..." Riku closed his eyes and shook his head, effectively answering a question that Sora couldn't even begin to understand. "Nevermind." He tightened his hold on Sora's wrist for just a second, squeezing lightly before dropping it entirely, flexing his fingers against his thigh as though he'd been burned. "Goodnight, Sora."
Riku almost seemed like he was in a good mood today. Well, good mood in comparison to how he usually was these days. And he hadn't gone out for a little over two weeks, meaning that he'd been in, at the very least, a relatively stable mood for the last few days. It was with these thoughts in mind that Sora agreed to Riku's suggestion that maybe the younger boy try working on his duel-wielding that day.
Sora didn't like duel-wielding. Riku insisted that there was no reason why he couldn't; Roxas had been able to without a problem, after all, and Sora was Roxas, or Roxas was Sora, or something like that that ultimately led to Sora being able to do anything that Roxas could do. Sora still didn't like it. He didn't know how to do it on his own, didn't know what quality it was that Roxas exploited in order to summon two of his own keyblades at the same time, like wielding the darkness and the light at the same time, balancing one in each hand. Riku wanted him to try using Roxas to help him, to try letting Roxas influence him just enough to let some of Roxas' instincts kick in.
"Try this," Riku suggested, dismissing his own blade easily. "Which is the easiest blade for you to summon?"
"Oathkeeper," Sora said instantly. Now was not the time to be sensitive about either of their feelings about Kairi's absence; if he really needed to duel-wield then he couldn't be squandering his best assets.
"Second choice?"
"Oblivion." Easy questions, really. Riku looked satisfied with his answer, nodding to himself as though that made perfect sense. He supposed it did, really. From what he remembered of the one time he'd fought Roxas, his Nobody also favored Oathkeeper and Oblivion to duel-wield.
"Okay, so summon Oblivion."
Sora allowed the arching black blade to appear in his right hand, long keychain dangling down his wrist as he absently rolled his hand around, adjusting to the new weight.
"Good." Riku watched him carefully, waiting until Sora was completely at ease with the blade in his hand. "Now try summoning Oathkeeper in your other hand. If it's the easiest blade for you to reach out to, then that shouldn't change just because it's your second key." Sora nodded, fingers tightening around the hilt of Oblivion as he concentrated his energy on his left hand. He imagined the cool feel of Oathkeeper against his palm, the perfectly balanced weight of the blade and the hilt, and then he imagined himself sinking slowly into a deep pool, something else slowly rising next to him, just enough that both their faces broke the surface...
"Good." Sora opened his eyes and glanced down, surprised to feel the familiar weight of his keyblade in both hands. "Now, wait, hold on to –"
Sora froze and turned back to his right hand, frowning at the black keyblade gleaming in the early morning sunlight. He still held two blades, each balanced perfectly in his palms, but Oblivion had flickered, flickered like it was an old TV set with a bad connection, before shifting and resettling, reappearing again as Bond of Flame.
"How..." Sora frowned, cocking his head to the side at the sight of the keyblade he had absolutely no memory of summoning. He glanced back up at Riku, hoping for some explanation from the taller boy, but Riku's face was impassive, politely curious as he studied the weapon in Sora's outstretched hand.
"Dismiss them both," Riku instructed. Sora complied without question, flexing his fingers as his weapons disappeared.
"Do it again. Exactly the same way. Summon Oblivion, then Oathkeeper. Make sure you use the same thought process too." And he did. Sora waited until Oblivion was solidly in his hand before focusing on Oathkeeper, summoning Roxas' help in the same thought. The two blades appeared simultaneously, Oathkeeper in one hand, Oblivion flickering back and forth between Bond of Flame in the other.
"It's Roxas." Sora breathed, nodding to himself as he studied the blade in his right hand. He dismissed Oathkeeper with an absent wave of his hand, committing himself to Bond of Flame as the weapon finally solidified completely in his grip. Riku glanced at him, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
"What?" the older teen asked, crossing his arms slowly over his chest. Sora turned the blade over in his hand, spinning the hilt flat against his palm.
"It's Roxas. I've been trying to let Roxas come to the surface a little bit, just enough to help me with the duel-wielding. When I'm successful enough to summon Oathkeeper, he has enough influence to affect my keyblade." It made sense to Sora, even though he didn't know why. It was just...something he knew, something that he knew was right no matter what kind of skeptical look Riku was giving him.
"How'd you get that keychain?" Riku asked, nodding his head at the blade still cradled in Sora's palm. Sora's heart clenched painfully in his chest, sapphire eyes squeezing shut as he tried not to think too much about it.
"You know," he said vaguely. "When Axel...fought with me."
"Yes," Riku agreed, "but how. What did Axel do that was strong enough to forge a new keychain?"
"He died for me." Sora bit out. He had no idea why he was this upset about it; he'd thought about the red-haired Nobody before, wondered at his final act and the last things he'd said to Sora, but never before had he felt like his organs were rebelling against the flesh trying to hold them in.
"No he didn't," Riku shook his head. It wasn't unkind, necessarily, but there wasn't much other emotion there to make up for it, just a straight, monotone statement.
"He did too!" Sora argued, Bond of Flame slicing through the air as he swung his arm down by his side, fingers tightening on the hilt. Riku smirked at him, something that almost hinted at amusement in his normally expressionless stare.
"You're letting Roxas get too close to the surface," Riku chastised him. Sora took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he struggled to fully pull himself back up to the real world, completely on his own. Riku watched him, though Sora wasn't quite sure what his best friend was waiting for. "Axel didn't die for you, Sora. He did it for Roxas, and he gave that keychain to Roxas."
"But...why?" Riku grimaced, like he'd been hoping Sora wouldn't ask that question. He was like a parent looking at a precocious child, wondering how best to explain to a four-year-old what, exactly, Mommy and Daddy were doing without their clothes on, and Sora resented it. Roxas was a part of him, wasn't he? So didn't he have a right to know what had happened in his Nobody's life?
"Axel...I talked to Axel once." Riku says slowly. "He I said something to me...It was impossible. Actually impossible, because Nobodies aren't capable of..."
"Of what, Riku?" Sora felt like he was drowning again, like the air in his lungs wasn't enough to sustain him, like he wasn't the only person relying on it. He didn't try to fight it, didn't know how and even if he did, he didn't want to.
"I asked Axel why he fought so hard to get Roxas out of the matrix." Riku said finally. He didn't look at Sora, looked over Sora's shoulder instead, further off than just the distance behind him. "He said it was because he loved him."
Sora hit the sand knees-first, breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he dug his fingers into the sand, Bond of Flame half-buried under his right hand. He wasn't sure what hurt more, what was making him ache and burn and shatter more, the part of him that was Roxas, that was hearing these words for the first time from the wrong person, or the part of him that was Sora, that knew now that his Nobody had loved somebody, had had somebody who loved him, and Sora had taken that away from him. His vision blurred, blue eyes squeezing shut so tight that long, wet lashes threaded together.
"Sora," Riku said quietly. It was the softest Riku's voice had been since they left Radiant Gardens, the most gentle he'd been with his younger friend. "Sora, he couldn't have. He...Nobodies couldn't..."
"He did," Sora said hollowly. His voice hurt in his throat, scraped along as he dragged the words out. "He did, Ri, and so did Roxas."
"They couldn't, Sora, they didn't have –"
"Shut up, Riku." Sora snapped, eyes flashing as he glared up at the taller boy. Riku's mouth snapped shut with an audible sound, aquamarine eyes wide. Sora leveled him with the sternest look he could muster, unusually cold and unforgiving in the bright sunlight. "Don't you ever tell me that they couldn't feel like that. Don't ever, because I'll tell you now and I'll tell you again; you're wrong."
Riku said nothing. He stood there, Soul Eater hanging limp at his side, silver bangs hanging across his face as he stared down at Sora. Sora held his gaze soundlessly, unwilling to back down for even a second. He knew he was right, knew it in that way that he sometimes understood things, had come to understand that, what with the number of hearts he was connected to, there were sometimes things that he'd never experienced that still rung true to him in his soul. There was no doubt in his mind that what Axel had told Riku was true, and that Roxas had felt the same. He recognized the feeling, recognized the way his heart sometimes raced at the mention of Axel's name, understood that sometimes when he dreamed about red hair instead of silver that it wasn't a lie, just a different person's dream.
Sora lifted Bond of Flame, raised the handle until he could dig the blade point-first into the ground and push himself to his feet. He used his free hand to swipe roughly at his eyes, shaking his head once before looking back up at Riku.
"I think I'm just gonna call it a day," he said quietly. "Go home. I don't think I'll be much use at anything else today."
Riku didn't try to stop him.
Riku spun the empty wine glass like a top, fingers balanced along the rim of the glass to keep it from crashing down onto the granite bar. He'd made no effort to hide his intentions tonight; when he sat down at the bar earlier he'd paid out the bottle in full, the one and a half liter bottle, none of that 750 mL crap. He was going to drink the whole damn thing too, wasn't going to get off that bar stool until it was empty.
The way Sora had looked at him. The last time he'd seen Sora look like that, like something was trying to claw its way straight out of the younger boy's chest, breaking apart his bones and tearing straight through his heart...the last time he'd seen that they'd pronounced Ven dead. It wasn't fair, the way Sora looked at him like that. It wasn't fair, because all Riku wanted to do was pull his best friend against him and hold him until he stopped shaking like that, like the world was falling to pieces. All he wanted to do was promise that he'd never let anything happen again that would put that expression on Sora's face.
He raised two fingers, tilting his empty glass out towards the passing bartender. The last of the bottle was tipped into his outstretched goblet, drops of the maroon drink dribbling down the side of the glass before he caught them with his thumb.
Riku hadn't meant to make Sora look at him like that. If he'd realized where that conversation was going to go he never would have started it. Hell, he'd gone this long without ever telling Sora about Axel, he could have held onto that secret forever if he'd played his cards right. The problem was...the problem was that really, brushing aside everything that Ansem had taught him, ignoring what King Mickey and Yen Sid had tried to say, nobody knew better than Riku what it was like to be in such close proximity to a heart like Sora's.
You couldn't help but covet that heart. It was understandable, really. It was almost impossible, to spend that much time with such passion, such overwhelming love, and not want a little bit of that for yourself. Riku understood it all too well, understood what it must have been like for Axel, to be so close to even just a shadow of Sora's heart, especially when he didn't have one of his own. He and Axel, he sometimes liked the muse, probably had a lot in common like that. Axel, too, would have known what it was like to want something so desperately like that, to long for a piece of Sora's heart with your entire soul.
Axel, too, understood what it was like to never be able to claim it. The Nobody had known that, had told Riku himself that he knew better than to think that he'd ever had a prayer for Roxas. Roxas was untouchable, unclaimable, belonged to everyone and no one, and never, ever just one person. Axel could never have tried to make Roxas his own, just like Riku would never try to claim any part of Sora. Both boys, their boys, were meant to be worshiped, to bask in the light of, but never to be owned.
Still...the way Sora had looked at him. The way Sora had looked at him, and for a second it hadn't been Sora, but Roxas, and the way Roxas looked at him like Riku's quiet confession had rent his entire being into tiny little shreds of soul...
Riku laughed at himself, snorting quietly under his breath as he tilted his head back to drain the glass. This was why he hated wine, the stupid fuzzy melancholy he always found himself in when he drank it. It was a masochist's drink, really. He should have known better, he knew what it did to him, what kind of ridiculous and damned thoughts it inspired in him. He dropped the empty glass back down on the counter, cupping his forehead in his free hand. Sora had never failed to show up more than fifteen minutes after Riku should have stopped drinking. It amazed him, really, the way the younger boy always just seemed to know when exactly the right time was. Six months they'd been back, and Sora never once missed that perfect window of opportunity to pull him away.
Half an hour later, when Sora still hadn't shown up, Riku ordered another bottle.
"You're late," Riku snapped, glaring at him. Sora winced, scratching sheepishly at the hair on the back of his neck.
"I couldn't find..." Sora trailed off. Riku wasn't listening, he was already pushing himself to his feet, leaving Sora in the dust as he took off at a steady jog. Sora scrambled to catch up, following several steps behind the older boy.
They spoke even less than usual that day. They never really talked to each other much, or at least, Riku never really talked to Sora much, usually giving him one or two word answers while Sora rambled uselessly, but today was particularly silent. Sora was especially quiet, something in his eyes was a little harder and a little colder than it had been before. If Riku noticed, he didn't say anything.
Sora wondered if he should say anything about last night. It wasn't really Riku's fault; maybe his best friend had been insensitive, telling Sora that Roxas and Axel couldn't have felt anything for each other, but really, he couldn't have known any better. And Sora had abandoned him over it. Really abandoned him. He'd kept an eye out his bedroom window, entirely unable to sleep anyway, and he'd seen the way Riku stumbled home at three in the morning. It was without a doubt the sloppiest he'd ever seen the older teen look.
"You pick that one every time." Riku scoffed, tightening his grip on his own blade. "I can't imagine why it takes you so long to choose when you know you're going to pick Oblivion."
Sora jumped slightly, blinking. He hadn't even realized how long he'd been standing there, presumably pondering over his choice of keychain but really debating how to broach the subject of last night with Riku. His fingers tightened instinctively around the handle of his weapon.
"I don't always pick Oblivion." Sora argued. They began circling each other slowly, maintaining the same distance apart on the sand. Neither of them made an attempt at moving closer. "Sometimes I don't like picking."
"I'm sure it's such a hard decision," Riku said scathingly. Sora frowned at him. Riku never baited him like this anymore.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he insisted quietly, flipping Oblivion back against his palm. Neither of them made a move to break their perfect circle. "You don't ever use any other keychains."
Riku lunged forward, winged blade flying straight for Sora's head. He barely dodged in time, rolling out of the way and bringing Oblivion up to clash against the hard steel as Riku went for a second blow. The silver-haired teen was merciless, relentless, purely on the offensive for the first time Sora could remember since they'd been home. He barely gained a single step on Riku, barely holding his ground under the assault of Riku's dark blade.
It was over before he knew it, quicker than any fight that had ever transpired between them. Riku hooked the very tip of Soul Eater under the curved wing of Oblivion's hilt, flicking the keyblade straight from Sora's grasp. They watched, frozen, as it spun soundlessly through the air, landing point first in the soft sand ten feet away.
Sora stared helplessly at it. Sure, he could summon it if he really tried, if he got there before Riku did, but even then Riku was close enough that he could easily deal Sora the final blow before the blade even fully materialized. He could have done so already, really, and Sora was actually kind of surprised that the taller boy hadn't declared the fight over yet. He glanced up.
Riku stood with his feet planted in the sand, chest heaving, blade still raised, staring at Sora with an expression Sora had never seen. He couldn't even begin to guess what Riku was thinking him, why Riku was looking at him like that, why Soul Eater hadn't touched him yet. He stretched out a hand without taking his eyes away from Riku, slowly gathering the cool hilt of Oblivion against his gloved palm.
Soul Eater vanished. Riku dropped his empty hand at his side, still breathing heavily. Sora watched him carefully, dismissing his own keyblade as he waited for Riku to say something.
The silver-haired teen turned on his heel without a word and strode off into the inner depths of the small island, leaving Sora standing alone on the beach.
Whiskey made his throat burn in the worst way possible, slicing through the soft tissue of his esophagus with a white hot fire and a scrape like liquid sandpaper. Riku usually tried to avoid whiskey, it, it tasted awful and it made him feel like crap, but really, he didn't have much lower to sink. He'd reached a whole new level of fucked-up asshole in the last few weeks; he barely spoke to Sora, and when he did it was snappish and rough. He couldn't get the image of Sora on his knees in the sand out of his head, that desperate, pleading look on his face like Riku was standing over him with an executor's blade. He wasn't good for him, wasn't good for Sora. He was like poison, like a disease, as dirty and as conspicuous as an ink blot on a pure white tablecloth.
He was terrible for Sora. Sora shouldn't have to be so close to him, spend so much time with him. It's going to taint Sora, he knew it, the darkness leeched off of him in melty, billowy clouds of acrid smoke and it was only a matter of time before it broke through the light surrounding Sora's heart. He shouldn't be here, on this fucking island, spoiling all of it with his bitterness and his misery and his hatred, but he was stuckand he didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Come on, Ri, lets go home."
"Yeah? How the fuck are we going to do that?" Different alcohol affected Riku differently; wine made him mellow, vodka made him hyper, tequila made him frisky. Whiskey, though, whiskey made him angry, an angry, bitter drunk, jaded with the whole system of worlds, his tiny little rock of a homeland being the worst of his troubles. He snarled and snapped when he was drinking whiskey, especially if the subject of where they lived came up.
Sora was having none of it tonight. He yanked Riku out the front door of the bar without a backwards glance, dragging the older boy unceremoniously down the empty street, not bothering to pause long enough for Riku to get his feet fully underneath him.
"This is home, Riku. This is it. You want to go home? It's a ten minute walk from here, little beachfront house, same as the one you grew up in. Two doors down from mine. That's where you live." Sora didn't bother trying to keep the edge out of his voice tonight; Riku wouldn't notice it, and if he didn't he wouldn't react any differently to it than he would have a calm, soothing voice. Angry Riku was angry, that was that.
"I'm not staying here forever." Riku swore. "Imnot. One day you're going to wake up and I'll be gone, just like that. I'd invite you along, but you obviously wouldn't want to come." Sora shoved his best friend away with brutal force, staring down at him unsympathetically when the momentum caused the already imbalanced boy to stumble wildly, hitting the ground hard when he finally fell. The cool frustration in the brunet's lapis lazuli eyes had sharpened to hot anger, narrowed directly at the boy still sprawled on the pavement.
"You want to leave again, Riku? Fine. Go. Get your drunk ass home yourself."
Sora thought about not going the next morning. He thought about it as he rolled over in bed, glaring at the alarm clock blinking innocently at him from his nightstand, thought about it as he stuffed his feet into sneakers, as he shoved half a cereal bar into his mouth while he stumbled out the door. He didn't know if he wanted to see Riku at all right now, didn't know what had come over his friend lately, but he did know that he didn't want to be the one to end this. No matter what else happened they met on the beach every single day, whether they talked or didn't, and Sora didn't want to be the one to sever that last little connection between them.
Neither of them spoke. Not a word. Riku, Sora noted dully, looked worse than death. Dark circles hung under his eyes, heavier still on his unnaturally pallid face, and he seemed to be particularly sensitive to anything that made his head throb. There were all the hangover symptoms Sora had always been looking for; what appeared to be an aching head, nausea, and, judging from the way Riku attacked his water bottle, dehydration.
Sora didn't ask. He didn't ask Riku about last night, or why he was drinking whiskey. He didn't ask how the older teen got home or if he'd gotten any sleep at all. He didn't say a word when Riku turned a sickly green, leaned over the side of the cliff they'd been on, and vomited right over the edge. Riku didn't offer an explanation. Not for the puking or the unexpected hangover, not for the sloppy, lethargic way he summoned Soul Eater and fended off Sora's attacks, completely on the defensive.
Frustration won out. Sora slammed Oblivion hard against Soul Eater and shoved Riku backward into the sand, pinning the larger boy under his knee. Riku glared at him, shoving up, but Sora was faster. Oblivion vanished, only to be replaced seconds later by Bond of Flame, and then there was Oathkeeper, cool and heavy in his left palm, and Sora pushed up off Riku's chest, spinning both keyblades absently in his palms.
"Get up," he snapped, blue eyes narrowed at the figure still down on the sand. "I'm not done with you yet."
Riku dug Soul Eater into the sand with one hand, easing himself gingerly to his feet. Sora waited, poised and ready, for Riku to pull his blade free, raising it slowly to face the other Keyblade Master.
"Come on," Sora goaded. "Come on, Riku. Beat me. I bet you can't. I bet you're so damn hungover that you can't even get one good hit on me. Come on Riku, you can't do it."
Riku lunged forward, Soul Eater flashing in the early morning sunlight as he sliced through the air between them. Sora met him halfway, Oathkeeper and Bond of Flame crossed in front of his face to catch the winged blade. Riku growled, disentangling himself from the mess of metal before dragging Soul Eater along Sora's side, narrowly missing the younger boy's ribs. He recovered quickly, swinging his blade back across the horizon. Sora dug his feet into the sand and jumped, somersaulting mid-air and landing behind Riku, slashing back with Oathkeeper. The older teen caught the teeth of Sora's blade with his own, twisting around to meet a second, almost instantaneous attack from Bond of Flame.
It was their longest, and without a doubt most intricate, battle to date. It seemed to drag on endlessly, the harsh clatter of metal against metal, the rough grind of teeth gritted together and grunts rumbling from throats, the occasional jeering comment tossed into the air. Sora in particular was unusually vindictive, taunting Riku shamelessly as the silver-haired Keyblade Master growled and consistently redoubled his efforts. It was, Sora realized in retrospect, his undoing.
"You're weak," he goaded, driving the fist still curled around Bond of Flame's hilt towards Riku's chest, narrowly missing elbowing his best friend in the face. "Come on, Riku, stop dancing around and hi–"
Riku ducked down, avoiding what would have been a blow to the head with Oathkeeper, and swung his own arm at the back of Sora's thigh, causing his leg to buckle at the knee. The brunet toppled backwards into the sand, arms flailing as he fell into an ungainly heap on the ground. Riku wasted no time dropping to his knees on either side of his opponent, straddling the smaller teen's waist and leaning forward to catch both of Sora's wrists in one hand, the other holding Soul Eater poised directly over Sora's heavily pounding heart.
Neither of them moved, save for gasping in panting breaths of air as they stared at each other. Sora was the first to relax his grip on his weapons, dismissing Oathkeeper, but not Bond of Flame, not until Riku loosened his hold on Soul Eater and let it flicker slowly back into Nowhere. They still didn't move after that, Sora flat on his back in the sand, both arms pinned high over his head, Riku kneeling over him.
"About fucking time," Sora snapped, angry even in his prone position under Riku, maybe even especially because of his prone position under Riku. Both silver eyebrows arched delicately in surprise, Riku staring down at Sora like he couldn't believe the words coming out of the brunet's mouth. Sora took advantage of Riku's momentary distraction. He thrust upwards, rolling the pair of them over until Riku was the one pressed down into the beach. "You're so pathetic."
"Get. Off. Me." Riku hissed, chest and torso rigid under Sora's hands and thighs. The brunet growled in frustration, glaring heatedly at his best friend. He was so sick of this bullshit, of Riku's sudden inability to touch him, of Riku's sudden inability to even suffer his presence. He and Sora used to spend hours rolling around on the beach together, wrestling and goofing around, always one of them (usually Sora) being caught in a headlock for a quick noogie or being playfully body-checked into the nearest wall.
"What, you hate me so much you can't even stand for me to touch you anymore?" Sora snarled, pressing his hands harder onto Riku's chest.
"I don't – get off, Sora," the taller boy gritted out through clenched teeth. Turquoise eyes were wide under his pale bangs, hands curled around Sora's hips as he attempted to push the other Keyblade Master off of him.
"No," Sora said firmly, clenching his knees on either side of Riku's hips, holding himself in place. "No. I want to know why you look like there are bugs crawling on your skin right now, just because I happen to be touching you. I want to know why you won't look me in the eye anymore, and why you won't talk to me any more than absolutely necessary, and why you won't spend time with me anymore."
"That's...not..."
"Don't you dare tell me that's not true. You never want anything to do with me except when you're drunk off your ass, and even then you're a total – oof." Sora breath left his lungs in a sharp woosh of air as he slammed into the sand again, this time with Riku back on top of him. It was almost funny, the way the pair of them were rolling around on the sand like a bunch of little kids. Sora would have laughed if Riku wasn't glaring at him so forcefully.
"Listen..." Riku fisted his hands in the collar of Sora's jacket and tugged the younger boy up towards him, bringing them nearly nose to nose as Riku snarled. Sora's fingers wrapped uselessly around Riku's wrists, struggling to pry his best friend's hands away. Riku glare intensified at his efforts, fingers tightening on Sora's jacket. The movement pulled the brunet infinitesimally closer, just enough that they both finally seemed to realized exactly how close they were.
Neither of them moved. The words appeared to have died on Riku's tongue, hanging soundlessly in the scant space between their mouths as they stared each other down.
Sora was never sure which one of them was the first to move. Maybe it was Riku, or maybe it was him, or maybe it was both of them, moving simultaneously to close the breath of space between them, but in the end it didn't really matter. What mattered was that Riku's lips were chapped and a little dry against his own, that they tasted like sweat and sand when Sora spread his own and let his tongue slide lightly along Riku's bottom lip, silently requesting permission that Riku was only too happy to grant as the kiss grew exponentially more heated. Riku pressed his shoulder blades back down into the sand again as Sora's hands moved to the hair at the nape of Riku's neck, tugging the older boy tighter against him until they were pressed together hip to chest.
Sora moaned as Riku abandoned his lips, sliding down to bite once at Sora's jaw before dragging his tongue down the smooth, tan column of Sora's throat. The brunet fisted a hand further into Riku's hair, tugging harshly as the older boy sucked just slightly too sharply on the delicate flesh of Sora's collarbone.
"Ungh, Riku," Sora gasped, arching his back as Riku's lips pressed against a spot just under his jaw.
Riku froze, face still buried in Sora's neck. Sora glanced down, attempting to catch sight of the boy hiding under his chin. "Riku?"
The silver-haired teen sat bolt upright, yanking his head out of Sora's slackened grasp and releasing his grip on the brunet's jacket, jumping to his feet as soon as they were both free. Sora propped himself up on his elbows, mind reeling as he watched Riku stumble backwards a few shaky steps, staring horror-struck at the boy still on the ground.
"Ri, what –"
"Fuck," Riku breathed. He stared wildly around him as though desperately searching for something to explain himself with, looking anywhere and everywhere but directly at Sora. "Fuck, Sora...I...fuck..."
And Riku, moving faster than Sora had ever seen his best friend move before, turned on his heel and ran from the beach before Sora could so much as push himself to his feet, ignoring any and all attempts by Sora to call him back.
Riku tossed back another shot, barely letting the tequila touch his tongue as he gulped down the amber liquid before slamming the shot glass back on the beer-soaked counter. The crowd around him cheered, someone on his left ruffling his hair appreciatively as he spared them all a cocky grin. It was his fifth (seventh? Tenth?) shot in less than half an hour, but it didn't really matter. He'd stopped counting five hours ago, lost his ability to taste anything three hours ago, lost all feeling in his face and fingers thirty-five minutes ago.
It was glorious. Perfect. Exactly what he needed right now. He didn't have to think about anything except who was paying for his next drink (the problem with running away from a nearly-abandoned island before 10:00 am is that you probably forgot to bring your wallet with you, and therefore don't have any money to fund your escape), and really, he'd found a solution to that one hours ago too. All he had to do was challenge the manliest looking guy at the bar to a shot competition and voila, instant blackout without laying down a single cent.
"What's your name, gorgeous?" The girl purring in his ear was pale and petite; she reminded him of Namine for a second, just long enough for him to forcefully shake his head and wipe himself of the memory.
"Terra," he slurred, spitting out the first name he thought of and immediately wishing he hadn't. Terra was one of the last people he needed to think of right now.
"Wanna dance, Terra?" she said coyly, smirking up at him from under heavily painted eyelids.
Riku groped blindly around the wet surface of the bar, reaching for the last full shot he knew was still there. He sighed slightly as he closed his fingers around it, throwing it back without even checking to see what was in the glass (SoCo, from the taste of it, severely lacking the lime) before turning to the girl still watching him hopefully.
"Let's go."
Sora wasn't sure what to expect, following the path to the small stretch of beach they usually met on every morning fifteen minutes earlier than usual. He had no idea whether or not Riku was even going to show up, hadn't seen or heard from Riku since yesterday morning. He waited an hour before deciding that Riku wasn't coming.
Someone, Riku didn't give a damn who, pressed a bottle into his hand, waiting until pale fingers curled around the neck before laughing and pulling away. Riku didn't give a damn what it was, either, taking it straight to the face as he wrapped his lips around the bottle and chugged. Bacardi 151, strong enough to peel paint off a brick wall, barely tickled his throat as he guzzled it down, using the back of the same hand to swipe at his mouth. He passed the bottle around to the girl he was dancing with, free hand tightening on her hip as she leaned back into him, throwing her head and really her whole body into chugging down the rough taste.
Riku had no idea what her name was or what she looked like beyond her strawberry-pink hair and narrow waist. He didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, or how much time had passed. Things were coming in flashes now; one minute he was sitting at a dimly lit bar taking shots, next he was dancing on a coffee table at what looked like a frat house, next thing he knew he was sitting at a booth at what he strongly suspected was a strip club, some brunette breathing the name Skye at him as she tried to straddle his lap.
Riku had no idea how long it had been since he left Sora on that beach. Hours? Days? It didn't matter how long it had been, didn't mean a thing as he reached for the bottle again, wetting his lips with the Bacardi as he swallowed. Three girls, two boys, and an incalculable amount of booze later and it still didn't matter. It didn't matter how long it had been, Riku could still taste Sora on his lips.
Riku was not at the beach the next day. Or the next.
Riku tangled the fingers of one hand into a shock of short black hair, the other pressed against his mouth as he bit down on his knuckles. Whatever-her-name was didn't seem to notice; she was apparently far too busy trying to sound like a porn star despite the fact that her mouth was otherwise occupied.
He remembered even less of things now. Flashes, more like photographs than actual memories. The dark-haired girl with her head between his thighs, and then with him hovering over her, balanced on his forearms as she panted against his lips. Another girl, purple-and-aqua-colored hair, licking a strip of salt off his neck and stealing a lime from his mouth.
There was another one now, a guy with a mohawk that strangely reminded him of that one Organization kid, and at this point he'd had so much to drink that he barely felt the dull throb of being reminded of that life, his other life. Mohawk guy was sliding one hand over the small of Riku's back and moving south, the other firmly curled around the back of the silver-haired teen's thigh.
Riku had a hand wedged between his teeth again, biting until the sharp, metallic taste of blood dripped over his fingers and down onto his tongue. Even then he still managed to whisper Sora's name around his bloody knuckles.
It had been four days since Riku left him lying on the beach, and Sora was starting to panic. It would have been one thing if Riku was just avoiding him. Sora could understand that, he supposed. He'd assumed that was what it had been, at least for the first two days. It was the third day, the day that Riku's mother ran into him at his favorite smoothie shop and asked if Sora knew when Riku was going to be home this time, that Sora really started to worry.
He asked around. No one, not any of their old friends, not Riku's family, not even the bartenders that worked at Riku's bars had seen hide nor hair of him in over three days. No one seemed particularly surprised by this; why would they, Sora and Riku made such a habit out of disappearing for years at a time that it was hardly unusual for one or both of them to vanish without a trace overnight? Sora, though, Sora knew better. They couldn't get off this world if they wanted to, and no one wanted to more than Riku, who still hadn't found a way. Riku was here, somewhere, but he wasn't on their little play island, and he wasn't on their home island, and Sora didn't even know where to start looking from there.
He went to the beach at dawn. It was a force of habit at this point, waking up and going to the little island, sitting on the sand and watching the sun slowly rise as they stretched. He waited, sitting cross-legged on the sand with his back pressed against the trunk of a palm tree, until the sun was well up into the early morning sky before slowly climbing to his feet, resigning himself to the fact that Riku wasn't coming back today.
Sora himself was wide awake, but most of Destiny Island's inhabitants weren't. He walked through silent streets, haunted with early-morning fog the sun had yet to fully chase away as he wandered aimlessly through the narrow dirt roads leading back to his house from the docks. A compulsive glance at Riku's bedroom window confirmed that his best friend wasn't home; Riku never left his window closed for very long when he was.
It wasn't until he was walking up the path to his house that Sora noticed the figure huddled against his front door, curled so tightly in on itself that he almost didn't recognize it as being a person. He took the steps two at a time as he clambered up his porch, crouching down just as Riku lifted his head to look at him.
Sora couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped his throat as he leaned forward and grabbed his best friend's arm, staring at the older boy. They'd been through a war together, they'd fought more battles than either of them could count, they'd spent weeks and weeks at a time living in the worst possible conditions...and Sora had never seen Riku looking this bad. Deep, dark circles, almost like bruises, hung under sleep-deprived, bleary eyes, and a single, ragged looking cut dragged across one cheek, dried blood frozen mid-drip on his face.
He was still wearing the same t-shirt and board shorts Sora had last seen him in, though they were both significantly dirtier and definitely ripped in multiple places that had been fine four days ago. The collar of the white shirt had lipstick smeared along it, the V of the collar ripped even deeper to expose more of Riku's pale chest. Finger-tip-sized bruises littered what Sora could see of the older boy's arms. He smelled, Sora noted without an ounce of surprise, like he'd bathed in a vat of the most potent alcohol he could find, and maybe like he'd puked at least once or twice too.
"Oh my god, Riku," Sora breathed. Riku stared back at him with empty eyes, looking so defeated that Sora didn't even know where to start. How could this possibly be what broke him, this boy who was so strong that he'd been through darkness and back more than once and made it out alive? "Come on, get up," he implored, tugging on Riku's arm and pulling him to his feet. Riku stood slowly, unsteadily, leaning heavily on the door behind him.
Drunk didn't even begin to describe Riku right now. He could barely keep his eyes open, could barely keep his head up and his feet on the ground as Sora ushered him inside, one arm wrapped firmly around the older teen's waist as he dragged him through the living room and towards the bathroom. He didn't seem to be capable of balancing on the toilet seat, so Sora pushed him straight down onto the floor, letting Riku lean back with his head lolling against the tub as the brunet began rifling through his first aid kit. Now was really, really not an appropriate time to be completely out of potions.
Riku barely flinched as Sora pressed a hydrogen peroxide-soaked cotton ball to the cut on his face, wiping up the dirt and the grime and the dried blood caked over the shallow scrape before moving on to the bloody knuckles that looked, strangely enough, like they were covered in bite marks.
"Think you can manage a shower right now?" Sora asked quietly. He waved one hand in front of Riku's half-lidded eyes, snapping his fingers lightly in the silver-haired teen's face. "Hey, Riku. Shower? Come on, it'll probably make you feel loads better."
Riku made a half-assed attempt at nodding, fumbling to get his hands under him for a few minutes before finally pushing himself to his feet, one arm almost immediately coming up to hold himself steady against the nearest wall. Sora frowned as he glanced down, finally realizing that Riku seemed to have lost his shoes at some point.
He waited until the taller teen had stripped to just boxers and had the water on and running, even testing it himself to make sure that it wasn't too hot, before finally stepping out of the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack so he could hear if Riku lost his balance. It wouldn't be a first. The kitchen was close enough that Sora could still keep an ear on the situation while bustling quietly around, rifling through cabinets and checking the fridge. He wasn't stupid, he knew better than those silly rumors that things like taking a cold shower or drinking lots of coffee could sober someone up, but that didn't mean Riku didn't need to eat. He'd have been willing to bet that Riku hadn't eaten much in the last few days, putting food in his stomach definitely couldn't hurt the situation.
By the time Riku stumbled back out of the bathroom again, smelling significantly better and dressed in clean clothes Sora had grabbed while waiting for the water to boil, there was a bowl full of mac and cheese and a plate of crackers waiting on the kitchen table. Riku still looked incredibly unsteady on his feet, but he managed to cross the room and drop himself into the appropriate chair without Sora's help, which the brunet considered progress. They ate in silence, Riku gulping down glass after glass of water as he finished almost the entire pot of pasta on his own.
"You're not just going to vomit all that up again, are you?" Sora asked warily, eyeing Riku carefully. Riku shook his head slowly, wincing at the movement. "Okay, come on then."
Riku looked confused as Sora pulled him to his feet again, carefully avoiding Riku's gnawed up hand as he instead wrapped his fingers around his best friend's wrist. He didn't bother explaining, simply tugged the obedient teen along behind him as he led the way back into his bedroom. Sora nearly laughed at the way Riku stared hungrily at his bed, soft and inviting and promising the kind of sleep Sora was almost positive Riku hadn't had in days. "Listen, we can talk later," Sora said firmly, looking right at Riku. "And we will, too. We are going to talk later, whether you want to or not."
Riku nodded glumly, looking entirely like he hadn't expected anything less. His eyes were looking a little clearer, Sora noted absently, maybe that food actually was doing him some good.
"We can talk later, but for now, you need to sleep," Sora insisted, shoving Riku lightly towards the bed. The older teen hardly needed any more prompting, all but diving straight onto it and bunching one of the pillows under his head, cuddling into it. Sora smiled in spite of himself. "Just sleep it off, yeah?"
"Wait."
Sora paused in the doorway, turning back around to face his bed. Riku's voice was rough and croaky, but he held Sora's gaze steadily.
"Would you – I mean, I understand if you don't – I just –"
"What, Riku?" Sora asked softly. Riku steeled himself with a breath, closing his eyes briefly before looking back up at the brunet in the doorway.
"Stay with me? Please?" Riku's voice was almost a whisper, but Sora had no problem catching it, and it broke his heart all the same to hear the uncertainty in his best friend's words. He crossed the room without hesitation, toeing off his sneakers before climbing unceremoniously into his bed, sliding right up next to Riku.
"You idiot," he said fondly, one hand coming up to nudge at Riku's chin. Sora ran his thumb along the length of Riku's jaw, lips twitching up into a small smile at the way Riku's breath hitched. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sora didn't kiss him. He could have, and God did he want to, but he didn't. He settled for rolling onto his other side and resting his head on one arm, using his free hand to tug the covers up and over both of them. It took a few breaths for Riku to move, but eventually Sora heard the soft rustle of sheets as Riku settled down behind him, close enough that Sora could feel the heat of Riku's chest against his back. Slowly, as though hoping that if he moved carefully enough Sora wouldn't notice, Riku slid an arm over Sora's hips, pulling the younger boy just a little bit tighter up against him.
Sora pressed a smile into his arm-pillow. Things were going to be okay.
I hope you guys liked it. it's something really different for me, so...yeah. because I spent so long working on this I had PLENTY of time to work on backstory; a little bit about what happened during the war, what happens after this, why Sora and Riku make certain decisions, things like that. if you have any questions about anything, or you wanna chat, hit me up. love you all x3