A/N: This year, I participated in the KH Secret Santa gift exchange on Tumblr. My Secret Santa recipient was Tumblr user dreamdropdorks, who requested a holiday-themed SoRiku fic involving Christmas Town. Here's what I came up with (warning: it's a tad angsty because I apparently don't know how to write anything else, even when I'm aiming for fluff).
This fic is canon-compliant with BBS, KH I, CoM, and 358/2 Days. It's safe to view any references to the events at the beginning of KH II and beyond as diverging from the known canon storyline.
I.
Somnolence
Darkness, everywhere. Ink-thick and obsidian, it prickled his skin. Clinging to even the subtlest folds of what remained of his clothing, the stagnant air around him threatened to smother every earnest attempt at inhaling anything substantive.
Creatures, surrounding him. Unseen but ever-present, they teased at his senses and kept him on edge as he sought a means to exit. They were the scraping of unseen debris at his feet, the whispered mocking of his greatest fears traveling like ghosts between both cold-numbed ears.
He's gone. He's dead. He left you.
You'll never lay eyes on him or anyone you love again.
Just as he could sense but not see them, he heard the message conveyed to him clearly enough, although not a single word of it had been uttered aloud.
Voices worked differently in this place, along with just about everything else.
Nevertheless, they were enough to floor him, these cruel revelations, to make him lose all sense of focus and direction. This was how they lorded over those weak of heart and strong of doubt, preying on latent insecurities and planting poisonous seeds of his worst possible fears somewhere deep inside of him where they could take root, then sprout. Like weeds, once one blossomed, innumerable others soon followed, making it an exercise in the infeasible eradicate them all.
With prior attempts, these strategies had been a remarkable success, an assault on his every endeavor to maintain a measure of level-headedness as he aimed to escape.
He'd never made it before, doubted he'd even been close, but this time was different. He needed to believe this.
He moved forward, the weight of their disembodied vocalizations pressing down on his shoulders, until walking ceded to shuffling, and shuffling meant losing his footing entirely against the craggy surface of the world he'd been confined to now for what seemed like eternity.
This was where he gave up during past attempts, knees stinging, palms bleeding. This was when someone once called Riku, by all accounts a boy still straddling the precipice between adolescence and adulthood, would lose all sense of himself and the name of the person he'd been seeking in the first place. They'd swirl around him, each incorporeal tone notably triumphant, an unending mantra of confident boasts.
The longer he remained, the less distinct each locution of the same sentence became, the meaning taking myriad twists and turns before morphing into something even more disquieting in the air above him. It thickened the intangible nothingness, nearly asphyxiating, until he'd start to feel faint, ultimately succumbing to impending unconsciousness, the image of a wide smile tapering blue eyes quickly forgotten, until the distinctive features left his active awareness, the process repeating itself when he woke an indeterminate time later, over and over, ad infinitum.
This was what passed for his life now, more or less a waking nightmare, a duplicative fate that he was destined to repeat — all for the sin of welcoming darkness, along with its nefarious cousins jealousy and arrogance, into the most vital parts of his tyrannized soul.
The ground was as cold as the air around him, its supplementing insentience perhaps more so. Just as in every instance before, he curled onto his side, knees to his chest and eyes open but seeing nothing, simply focusing on his increasingly shallow breaths as he waited for unconsciousness to rise up like impassable walls on both sides of him. Head cradled over the crook of one elbow, one arm instinctively reached forward as though seeking a long-lost source of comfort he already knew didn't exist in this realm. Fingers fluttered over an oddly shaped object that shifted at his touch, scraping against the ground's uneven surface, the sound a quiet kind of deafening in the noiseless vacuum of this hellish world.
Disoriented, Riku blinked once, then again, the sound still echoing and etched into the back of his thoughts like a memory, drowning out what remained of the voices that had already faded with the presumption of victory. With their departure, the air around him gradually cleared. He took in a breath, then another even deeper, still wondering at this novelty, a subtle change from what he'd been accustomed to in attempts past.
He reached forward again, the action not wholly planned, fingers seeking a firm grip on this unintended salvation, half-convinced he'd imagined its existence.
At first, nothing. Debris caught under his fingernails, gravelly but insubstantial.
Another breath in, muscles straining and shaking under the requisite effort of forcing his free shoulder forward even just a few inches before his fingers once again connected with something larger, most definitely solid. Unmindful of the sparks of pain associated with the effort expended just to pull it closer to him in this weakened state, his fingers once again found purchase, eventually furling the object into his waiting palm. Exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, he drew his hand toward his chest, still unable to move with natural effortlessness, let alone sit full up.
Nestled into the clutches of his clammy-cold hand, he explored the object by touch alone. Its surface was smooth, symmetrical. Although it was futile, Riku blinked, heartbeat increasing as he looked down and tried to see what he was holding.
"The heart may be weak. And sometimes it may even give in."
His chest tightened, the familiar voice echoing until one word blended into another.
Ten small dips and rises sum total, it was an object made of stone, shaped like something he remembered being far more malleable. It was something that he wasn't so far gone as to have forgotten grew from branches on trees present in abundance on an island he'd once called home.
"…I've learned that, deep down, there is a light that never goes out."
For the first time since he'd entered this hopeless place, cursed by voices whose sole purpose seemed to be taunting him into complete resignation, Riku uttered one word of his own. It felt like redemption, and it gave him strength.
Four letters, two syllables.
A strange heat surged through him, forming in his chest, then journeying out into his limbs. Although he still couldn't see, remained yet physically weak, Riku mustered what little strength remained within him. He pushed up to seated, then an unsteady standing position, once again secure in the knowledge of where he was headed.
He inched away from the space where he knew the ground fell away into nothingness, back connecting with the uneven stone of an outcropping rising alongside a towering cliff face.
Yes, he remembered now, if only vaguely. The path had curved downward on his journey here. Now it was rising, becoming steeper with every step he took.
At the end of it, there was something that led elsewhere, somewhere that would bring him a little closer to his this nebulous concept of a name attached to a person he'd once cherished above all else.
Alert to his enduring consciousness, the voices returned, the creeping shapes accompanying them more a memory than a visual in this pitch-black place. He recalled now, how their clawed appendages reached out, shredding his clothing, his skin, virtually tearing into his very being as parts of them broke away, left behind to needle their way into him over time. He remembered now, their eyes, yellow and sightless to the world around them, their only purpose locating souls that had light left within them, even just the smallest scrap of remaining hope in a world not yet lost to darkness.
As if by instinct, his free hand clenched, fingers blanching as they made a futile attempt at summoning the key-shaped weapon he'd once yielded with adeptness.
Nothing happened.
Inherently, he'd already known this would be the case. How many times before had he attempted the same thing?
Abandoning the action, he inched closer to his destination, and the voices changed tactics from taunting statements to outright accusations.
You are the reason he's gone. You left him. You killed him.
It was a verity, to an extent. The most effective aspersions always had one foot in the truth, after all. And the knowledge affected him, slowed his gait, increased his likelihood to stumble on plodding feet.
He tried to keep focus, made a sincere attempt at forming the name of his friend again. One syllable remained, then shimmered, its meaning opaque. The other syllable faded from memory before his mind could find a secure means of holding onto it.
Give in to the darkness.
The voices coalesced into a lulling croon, the contact with his skin no longer cutting, now more the intimation of a gentle caress.
Stay with us, dear one. Keep your heart here.
Exhausted, he paused, took in a shaky breath, and considered the offer. It seemed to logical now, quite obvious. He'd been trying to leave, but could no longer remember why he'd sought an exit in the first place.
"Riku…"
A voice came to him, distinct from the others. Without pretense, it spoke from a place deep within him where the others had not yet managed to touch.
"It's just me. Don't be scared."
Though hushed, the voice resonated; it set his entire internal self alight. Eyes now blindly wide, Riku searched in every direction but still saw nothing.
One thing was certain — this was a voice he had to locate. It was imperative.
Once again, Riku moved forward.
The voices rose; they altered their tone and cajoled, revisiting the message to which he was by now well-accustomed.
This time he didn't pause to hear what they were saying.
"Riku."
Him again, with the familiar hint of a smile in his tone, an uplifting warmth to his vocal cadence that spurred Riku on. One arm against the rock of wall on his right, hand still clasping the rock shaped like a paopu, the other outstretched, fingers reaching, seeking, on his left, he couldn't say how far he struggled forward, or for how long. All he felt was an epiphany of agony, of claws rending and blood weeping from his war-torn skin. All he knew was loss, the finer details gone but the knowledge of raw emotion still present and reverberating.
What he heard was the voice that had called his name, and that was where he directed his focus, willing himself to repeat the encouraging directive, and to keep moving forward.
A quickening crescendo and the monstrous voices rose as one, a near deafening sound of bellicose allegations. They flooded his thoughts, snuffing every opportunity to hear the voice he was longing for so desperately, until all that was left was unending internal sound and the pounding of his pulse at both protesting temples. Just when he felt he could stand it no longer, arms aching, fingers almost begging to be lifted to either side of his head to cover his ears, his hand connected with something solid. Something that made an echoing response when knocked against, reminding him of timber, so very different from everything else in this place.
The voices dissolved, replaced by a scattered shower of laughter. Rather than cruel, these peals sounded to him like someone was delighted.
Sliding his hand across the carved surface in front of him, then over the metal arched handle that connected to it, realization dawned on Riku at the moment the voice spoke to him again.
This was a door, he was kindly informed. The only thing left for him to do was open it.
II.
Spindle & Slow-Wave
"It's just me."
A hand on his cheek. Soft, reassuring.
"Don't be scared."
Fingers brushed away strands of hair from his face. Gentle, caressing.
"Riku…"
Eyes still closed, he made an attempt to say something, but his throat was dry, voice inaudible in its current state of hoarseness.
Then, laughter, clearly exasperated.
"Oh, c'mon. Wake up."
With a flutter of lashes, his eyes opened, then widened as they regained focus and took in the scene in front of him.
One, he could see, and not just the indistinct shapes and ominous oculars of the creatures that were stalking him. His vision was much more functional in the dim light of the room where he now found himself.
Two, though. It was wrong, every single detail a lie. It had to be.
Unbidden, a strangled sound crept its way up out of his throat, and Riku jerked himself into a corner where bed met wall. The fingers that had been touching him moved away just as quickly as he pushed himself more fully upright in a mélange of rapid blinking, limbs aching, eyes frantic and searching every visible inch of the space he was in.
It took him a little longer to realize it was a room, his specifically.
A soft hum next to him redirected his attention, the identity of the person from whom it'd originated making his pulse race, the muscles in his neck tightening as though his heart had managed to simultaneously lodge itself into his throat and render him effectively mute.
This wasn't right. He was supposed to finish that mission associated with Roxas, before...
Just as soon as the name crossed his mind, along with the image of a boy that corresponded with it, both dissolved, and Riku found himself incapable of summoning them a second time.
He lost his train of thought as a subtle smile followed the furrowing of brows above bright, lively eyes, all of which swam in Riku's vision beneath a mess of brunet tresses, styled in a way that was familiar, yet somehow still markedly different.
The boy looked at him, stance cautious, expression conveying mild concern.
"Sorry I startled you."
Blue eyes flickered downward, settling someplace on the room's bamboo flooring near feet adorned with two mismatched socks that snaked up under a pair of jeans a dark shade of rust.
"Your dad told me you were still sleeping when I got here. He said I should wake you up before the day's half over."
Sleeping…
His father?
When was the last time he'd even thought about home and family, let alone seen either?
Still incapable of rendering his motley thoughts into a coherent full sentence, Riku stared at the boy in front of him and sucked in a breath before finally giving tentative voice to the name he'd so recently believed had been lost to him.
"Sora?"
His tone was low, uttered in two quivering, half-whispered syllables. Nevertheless, the boy looked up, smile widening and arms reaching as he moved closer, the subtle hint of jutting clavicles visible on either side of a black v-neck sweater. It was the last thing Riku noticed before the same arms wrapped around him, and Sora scooted onto the mattress in an apparent attempt to get closer to him.
Before he could react, Sora leaned forward, lips brushing against his with the suggestion of customary intimacy. The kiss was tender, if short-lived. Even after it'd ended, Sora remained, cheek pressed against the side of Riku's face.
"Sorry if I freaked you out. That must've been some kind of intense dream you were having."
Dream.
Riku considered the word like one might an unfamiliar food offered up at dinner, cautiously allowing the sour tang of associated darkness to flood his senses, of creatures with incorporeal voices, and cuts that sliced more than skin-deep.
Dream. He'd been dreaming. And Sora was here with him.
Movements still slow with remnant inertia, Riku leaned forward and returned Sora's hug with a tentative one of his own. He felt the rise of a cheekbone in profile as Sora smiled, relished his friend's warm breath as it tickled the base of his neck, and wondered at the simple thrumming on one side of his chest that came on the heels of a fluttering in the deepest part of his stomach.
The moment was over too soon, Sora planting one final kiss on the side of Riku's face before pushing off the bed and returning to standing. They eyed one another for a beat, then two, Sora quirking his head, worry lines forming across his forehead as he studied Riku.
"You still looked spooked." His expression was sympathetic. "Finals must've done a real number on you."
Going quiet, Sora turned away from Riku's bed and made his way across the room. Still disoriented, Riku watched as Sora leaned across a desk at the room's opposite corner and reached for the window shade chord. Pulling it down in one smooth motion, the shade flew upward.
Light flooded the room, an irony of inverse blinding that wasn't lost on Riku even in his current, semi-lucid state. Half-shielding sensitive eyes with one forearm and momentarily forgetting himself, Riku aimed a glare at Sora.
"How about some warning next time? Christ."
"There he is." Sora was grinning full-out by the time he'd angled his way back to the bed. "Now get up, you lazy bugger. We've got a full day ahead of us and only half the hours to fit everything into it."
Before Riku could respond, Sora dashed off again, this time over to his closet. He pushed away the fabric divider and started rummaging. A university logo sweatshirt hit the edge of the bed frame, followed by a pair of stone-washed blue jeans half a second after.
Shooting a dubious look to the window, Riku glanced at the clothing that'd been chosen for him, then back over to Sora.
"Isn't it a little warm for long sleeves?"
The question was more or less rhetorical, considering the rising swell of island humidity brought in by the light breeze through his open window.
"Not where we're going."
While Riku shot his friend an inquiring look, Sora merely smiled a knowing smile and shook his head, brown hair bouncing along with his every movement after a quarter second's delay, care of of what Riku could only assume was a matte hair gel.
"Now quit stalling, hurry your butt up, and at least try to make yourself look presentable in public."
o - o
The mid-afternoon sun was well overhead by the time they left. While Sora practically skipped his way in the direction of the beachfront promenade, Riku's gait was more subdued, expression guarded and eyes acutely observing. Despite Sora's insistence that he dress warmly and bring a jacket, the humidity was its usual variant of hot and muggy at this time of the year. He'd tied the hoodie's arms around his waist and outright refused to tote along an actual jacket but Riku still felt itchy and uncomfortable. It was almost enough to miss school and the Mainland's more temperate climate.
If only he could remember it...
Seemingly unbothered by the heat, Sora was decked out in a black zip-up coat, complimented by a snow white scarf. Taking in his crimson jeans, Riku couldn't help but note that a fur-lined hat was only thing missing to complete the full-out Christmasy get-up.
For the life of him, Riku couldn't fathom how Sora wasn't half melting in all those layers.
As they reached the wooden boardwalk that allowed tourists and locals alike to walk above the beach shore, Riku looked out at the ocean in the distance, felt Sora's shoulder brush against his, and tried to stifle the rising knowledge that the difference in their respective heights was far less pronounced than he'd last remembered it.
He let Sora lead the way, past the public beach and people out walking, the tourists distinguishable from locals by virtue of their odd-looking attire, along with cameras and smartphones raised out toward the ocean and the myriad photos being taken. Occasionally, the backs of their hands connected, causing Riku to hesitate while Sora looked up and smiled, eyes luminescent in the bright light of sun overhead.
After a few minutes of walking together in silence, Sora turned off the main walk, moving away from the beach and toward a small building that Riku immediately recognized.
Did this mean…
Could it possibly be…
…was Kairi here too?
Riku slowed as he considered the possibility, thoughts a confounding maelstrom at the continuing discordance of reality as he knew it, then gave the diner a quick once-over.
Noticing his lag, Sora paused and turned, hand clutching the restaurant's door handle.
"Something wrong?"
For a moment, they looked at one another, Riku taking in Sora's features and trying to reassure himself that the familiar outnumbered each anomaly. Sora glanced back with a look of expectation, eyes wide, expression his usual friendly.
"Sorry."
Riku shook his head as if to clear it, then started to move closer.
"I don't think I'm totally awake yet."
With a quick roll of his eyes, Sora pulled the door open and held it until Riku was close enough to reach out and grab it himself.
"Still not a morning person, even when it's technically afternoon." Sora's tone was good-natured as he entered the diner. "You haven't changed a bit since we were kids."
Yeah, well, Riku supposed as he headed in after his friend. That makes one of us.
o - o
Sometime between half finishing a steaming bowl of phở gà and pouring himself a large glass of Vietnamese coffee out of the phin filter left at their table, Riku started feeling more like himself than he had all morning. As he stirred the steaming liquid over the ice cube abundant glass interior and watched Sora stuff himself full of the spicy tuna bánh mì he'd ordered, Riku was quick to remind himself that feeling less weird about any of this still didn't technically solve anything when it came to the gaps in his memory.
Observation helped, at least to an extent. Quiet listening as well, once Kairi's mother appeared offering heartfelt hugs to them both within a few minutes of being seated — along with free snacks that Sora was quick to accept with abject eagerness.
From the casual topics of conversation that passed between her and Sora, Riku learned that Kairi hadn't returned home over the holiday, that she was staying with a boy she'd been dating and his family on the Mainland. As Riku mulled that over and tried to reconcile his mind's image of the last time he'd seen Kairi with someone legitimately mature enough to date someone with any level of seriousness, he kept one ear open for other clues his foundering memory was still keeping him in the dark about.
There wasn't much, and the conversation soon turned from Kairi to the pair of them. Riku let Sora do most of the talking, answering questions directed specifically at him as vaguely as he thought he could get away with.
Eventually, she disappeared into the back of the restaurant, their food was brought out to them, and Riku could focus on eating while he tried to come up with another strategy at obtaining further context about what was still unaccounted for.
As he stole clandestine glances at the boy across from him, there was something that hadn't changed, Riku realized, and that was Sora's voracious appetite. Boasting a metabolism that could make a super model jealous, Sora seemed capable of eating his weight in food every meal, and then some if more was available.
As insignificant an observation as it was, it was also reassuring. This was his friend, and nothing was wrong with him. It was Riku whose mind seemed to be short circuiting, in a manner of speaking. As Sora polished off the last piece of French bread and reached for his boba-milk tea, Riku considered his options and decided to tread lightly.
"How's school?"
Sora looked up, brows furrowing toward the bridge of his nose. Tempted to backpedal and switch topics, Riku calmed his own rising anxiety, and searched his mental reserves for a way to rephrase the question into something that sounded less awkward.
"For you, I mean. How was your quarter?"
The look didn't vanish entirely as Sora held Riku's gaze, simply shifted more toward outright bemused.
"My semester was fine. Just busy as heck." He took another sip of his tea and offered a wry smile. "Seems like it wore you down too if you can't even remember how the term's divided."
"Yeah..."
Feeling heat creep up his neck that threatened to travel into a more visible place across both cheeks, Riku looked down to mask his confusion. Their high school was on a quarter system. That wasn't something he'd forget, and it wasn't something that was likely to change in the span of however many months had passed, no matter how faulty his memory happened to be at present.
"I think I did alright with finals though." Expression thoughtful, gaze shifting to take in a group of tourists who'd just walked in, Sora seemed not to have noticed how flustered his statement had made Riku. "I guess I'll know for sure once grades come out after New Year's."
"Right."
More one word responses from Riku, some light thrumming of fingers against the formica diner table on Sora's part before the latter stopped, expression turning serious.
"There is something I wanted to talk to you about, though."
Riku looked up, mouth forming a silent 'o' before his eyes darted to either side of them, the muscles of his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. Not trusting himself to speak as his mind ran through the reasons why Sora would be looking at him so pensively, Riku merely raised an eyebrow and forced himself to maintain eye contact with the boy across from him.
"You know how I keep saying I want to see more of the world? More than just Destiny Islands and the Mainland around campus…"
Riku nodded. Some things never changed, it seemed, no matter how shoddy his current short-term memory.
Fidgeting in his seat, Sora reached for his tea, sucking a single tapioca ball up out of the straw and chewing it with uncharacteristic thoroughness before he next spoke.
"I was thinking about doing a study abroad next year, before graduation. It'd be for a semester, possibly the whole year if I can make it work with the courses I still have left to take."
Riku managed not to choke on thin air but only just barely.
Their school didn't offer study abroad programs, but he knew someplace that did, an institution they'd always known they would be attending — but only after graduating from high school. With growing unease, Riku glanced down at the sweatshirt he'd untied when they'd first arrived now nestled on his lap, even though he was familiar with the eminent lettering, and already knew what the rounded logo symbolized.
The implications were clear, even if he didn't particularly want to give them any form of credence. Sora was talking about the year leading up to a graduation, but not high school. From university.
Riku froze at the sudden insight that this wasn't just a gap of a few months, at most maybe a year. The last clear memories he had were of their second year of high school.
Now he felt more than confused; Riku felt outright ill. Recently filled, his stomach churned with a lunch not yet entirely digested.
Mistaking his friend's queasy expression for straightforward disapproval, Sora started talking again, a rush of words Riku was only able to half-process at this juncture.
"You could come with. Or at the very least visit."
When Riku remained stony-faced and wordless across from him, Sora forged on, expression darkening with what seemed like worry.
"I don't have to go either. Nothing's official yet. I wanted to check with you first to make sure you were alright with it, but it's okay if you're not…"
Still unable to render thought into spoken word, Riku held up a hand and Sora promptly trailed off, mid-sentence.
"I just need a minute." His voice was quiet, strained. Curling forward over the table, head bowed, Riku make a quick attempt at coming up with an explanation that wouldn't set Sora off or worry him further. "I think it was something I ate."
Realization filtered across Sora's expression before shifting to something more akin to relief. Before Riku could get a sense of what was happening, Sora slid out of the booth and stood up.
"Be right back."
Still hunched, Riku saw his friend head toward the diner counter out of the corner of one eye. He took the time between Sora's departure and return to pull himself together as much as possible, taking steady breaths in through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth to regulate his breathing.
He was okay, he tried to reassure himself. Memory loss could be a result of a lot of different things. Maybe he was coming down with something, possibly taken some medication that hadn't agreed with him. For all he knew, he'd gotten a concussion playing blitzball with Wakka and Tidus and this would all be temporary if he could just be patient enough to wait it out.
Reaching for his napkin, he pressed it above his brow, determined to wipe away any trace evidence of anxiety or impending illness.
Sora returned soon after, a sweating glass of ice water procured and passed to him across the table as he took his seat again. He watched, eyes hawkish, as Riku took a long sip.
"How're you feeling?"
"Better." Riku forced himself to sit straighter, then offered Sora a small smile. "Thanks."
For a few minutes, they sat in silence, Sora making an attempt not to fidget, Riku occasionally sipping from the glass of water he'd just been gifted. During that time, he also tried collecting his thoughts, to make sense of any of this.
Sora hadn't seemed particularly concerned about any of the day's events or topics of conversation, at least not until Riku had given him a reason to stress about them. No one else seemed bothered by their presence, not on the boardwalk or in the diner belonging to Kairi's family. The only person who seemed to be questioning anything was Riku himself.
The slurp of a straw pulling up the last drops of tea and a healthy amount of air along with it demanded his attention. Gaze focused on something off in the distance, Sora's expression remained troubled. Feeling the weight of Riku's eyes on him, eventually Sora glanced over. Even a small smile from Riku didn't diminish the somber look that was etching unfamiliar lines of tension across the planes of his face.
"I didn't mean to upset you." Sora's voice was low, almost a whisper that Riku had to strain to hear as he continued. "I know you said it wasn't me, but I can't help feeling like I still might've had something to do with it."
"Sora…"
Not listening, Sora continued in the same despondent intonation.
"I never want to hurt you or make you feel left out. I just get so stir crazy sometimes that I feel like I hav—"
"Sora."
Mid-sentence, Sora finally quieted and looked over at Riku.
"How long have we been dating now?"
Sora froze, thrown off by the question, then opened his mouth only to close it without uttering a single word, expression an open book of unsure and confused.
For his part, Riku merely looked back. He might have had ulterior motives for asking what he had, but he'd been sure to make it sound rhetorical expressly for Sora's benefit.
"About a year now." Sora spoke slowly, his tone cautious, clearly unsure what Riku was getting at. "A little more, I guess, technically."
Curious about the final admission, Riku filed it away for the time being and decided to try to investigate more later if the opportunity presented itself. Folding one forearm over the other, he placed both arms on top of the table and leaned toward Sora.
"After all that time, plus the years we've known each other as friends, do you really think I'd try to keep you from doing something you've been dreaming about since you were a kid?"
He shot Sora an exaggerated look of disapproval for good measure. The corners of Sora's lips twitched subtly up as he dropped his eyes back toward his empty plate, cheeks flushing in a way that Riku couldn't help but find endearing.
"No. We've always talked through stuff like this."
Riku mock-tutted.
"Yeah, exactly."
Their server returned to collect their plates. She placed the bill at the edge of the table, then headed back toward the kitchen.
Before Riku could even think to reach for it, Sora snatched it up, a wide grin making another appearance in response to the surprised look on Riku's face.
"I've got this one. It's the least I could do after being such a drama queen."
Mood fast improving, he made a grab for his coat, and pulled out a small square of leather. Riku watched as he saw his friend flash a credit card between two fingers as though to illustrate further. Making a gesture indicating Riku should follow, Sora pulled on his coat and started to make his way over to the cash register at the front of the diner.
All confidence and smiles as he passed his card across the counter, Riku couldn't help but marvel at what a half a decade's worth of physical and mental development could do to someone who, at fourteen, was a veritable ball of adventure-centric energy without an ounce of adult foresight to balance his spur-of-the-moment decisions.
This was still the same Sora he'd always known, he told himself, the one he'd developed feelings for as a teenager, without so much as a hope in hell of having them returned. Sora was also someone different, a young man who was worlds more mature and self-assured, in effect an improvement induced by the inevitable nature of aging.
There was one other thing Riku noticed as they turned and left, something overall insignificant made far more pressing as they found themselves outside under a sun that was as unrelenting as when they'd first entered the diner to grab lunch.
"Any reason you're wearing enough layers to make an eskimo jealous?"
A quick glance back, followed by a good-natured expression, and Sora was heading away from the boardwalk, toward town center, as he called out behind him.
"You'll be thanking me soon enough, promise. Now enough idle chitchat from you, mister, if we want any chance of getting to our destination before sunset."
III.
Atonia
Flashes of memory began returning as they walked through a forested area that led toward the island's east side downtown hub. Almost as soon as they'd left the diner, Sora had reached for Riku's hand, twining their fingers together like it was something he was already well-accustomed to doing.
For Riku, it was equal parts unanticipated and electric to feel Sora's hand within his, a set of digits settling into the comfortable spaces between his own fingers, squeezing occasionally in a way that made his stomach quickly form a den of butterflies hellbent on escaping.
The memories were brief, mere seconds of visual recall, seemingly in direct response to the intermittent increase and release of pressure from Sora's hand holding his.
He saw study sessions together when Sora looked much more like Riku remembered, making tortured expressions over a maths textbook, no doubt enacted for the amusement of others around them. He saw days at the beach with a group of their friends, blitzball matches, and one-on-on sparring with crudely carved wood fashioned to look like swords.
He also saw throngs of students outfitted in billowing dark gowns, a procession leading up to a platform behind their high school on the football field where their principal and a photographer waited to capture the moment each they received their diploma. There was a toothy grin from Sora soon after, hands reaching out to move Riku's tassel from the right side of his head over to the left.
There was the holiday dividing their first year of university spent fooling around at the beach, shirts removed, a bottle of suntan lotion held out to him with a look of expectation like Sora'd just asked him a question. He saw bare shoulders smeared with half-applied sunscreen, still thin but hinting at the development of lithe muscle, smelled the distinct scent of coconut as he proceeded to smooth the lotion into an even layer across Sora's back and shoulders.
Remembrance of budding attraction returned next, plus his reaction to the heat that spread from his chest and circulated elsewhere coming back to him, an internal warmth he knew even then had nothing to do with any form of solar influence and all to do with the person he spent most of his time with.
The memories flickered through like stop motion movements of an old film, each one sparking some form of emotional recall, however brief and non-sequential.
After a solid fifteen minutes of walking together and simply holding hands without speaking, the path changed from sand to pavement as they continued toward the town center. It was nothing like the rising buildings of a large Mainland metropolis, Riku knew, but it still felt considerably more urban than the rural part of their island where he and Sora had both grown up.
By the time they reached the outskirts of downtown, it was clear that even Sora was uncomfortable in his multi-layered attire. As he reached up with a few fingers and loosened his scarf, Riku could almost imagine the itchy discomfort of faux fur materials rubbing against his own skin as Sora smiled at him somewhat sheepishly.
"Maybe I should've just carried some of this until we actually got to Christmas Town."
"Ah, hindsight." Riku snorted, his expression wry. "And I think you mean Christmas Village."
The pieces were starting to fall together now, at least when it came to where Sora was heading. In a way, Riku was annoyed it'd taken him so long to work it out. Christmas Eve had once meant a trip with their parents to the city center to walk through Christmas Village, an area of downtown decorated in all manner of holiday ornamentation, from tinsel and holly to gift-wrapped donations bound for the island's regional orphanage.
It also meant fake pine trees and pseudo-snow made out of a cottony substance lining the area that led up to the spot where children could visit with a man dressed as Santa and catch a glimpse of hired workers attired as elves, if he remembered correctly.
As far as Riku knew, they hadn't made the trek to Christmas Village in years, even though it wasn't much more than a thirty minute walk from their homes, at most. Knowing Sora, he'd had this planned since their return from the Mainland after finals had ended.
"Nope!" Sora's light-hearted tone pulled Riku away from his ruminations. "It's Christmas Town. Don't tell me you forgot."
The name induced a prickle of recognition against the back of his neck, but no supplementing image that corresponded with it.
No, it was Christmas Village. He almost would've bet his life on it, if he were willing to bet his life on something of such little consequence.
Sora had sounded so certain though, and insisting otherwise might have just started a fight brought on by too much clothing worn in heat still unrelenting. With a slight shrug, Riku decided to abandon the forming dissent and let Sora lead him forward.
"Anyway." Dropping Riku's hand, Sora unraveled his scarf, then proceeded to throw it over one shoulder as he next went to work on unzipping his coat. "How about I make it up to you by getting us both some sea salt ice cream?"
Riku stopped dead at the comment, body suddenly a picture of rigid tension, ears ringing with the memory of laughter that resonated from three distinct pitches.
He didn't know why it mattered, any more than he understood how something so nebulous could make him this uncomfortable.
It took Sora a beat longer to realize Riku had fallen behind. Turning, he shot his friend a curious look, then beckoned Riku forward.
For a horrifying moment, Riku found himself incapable of physical movement. Speech, at least, didn't seem to be affected.
"What kind of ice cream?"
Clearly confused, Sora quirked his head.
"Sorry?"
Then, his eyes lit up. A smile soon followed.
"Oh, sea salt. It's this new flavor they just started offering. It was only a suggestion though. You can totally get something else."
He cut the distance between the two of them in a few skipped steps, then grabbed Riku's hand and began to encourage him forward with both of his own.
At Sora's touch, Riku's tenuous mental grasp on the unsettling memory vanished, the laughter disintegrating like a carefully built sand castle at the behest of an ocean wave's dogged persistence.
Accepting the distraction Sora was unconsciously offering, Riku let himself be pulled forward, up a street and down another, until a familiar awning came into view, displaying the name of an ice cream shop that had once been a childhood favorite for both of them.
o - o
Christmas Town wasn't difficult to locate, given all the garish street signs leading up to it. Nor had it been much of a challenge to clarify its name. All it'd taken was a quick glance at the first written notice for Riku to realize that Sora had been right, despite what he'd thought were airtight memories associated with their last visit.
They carried their newly acquired frozen treats along with them down a few side streets, Sora making quick work of a raspberry popsicle, Riku holding a styrofoam cup with a scoop of pistachio ice cream that'd already half melted by the time they'd exited the shop.
Once finished, they deposited the discards into a nearby trash bin and continued onward. The further they walked, the chillier the air got, until Riku found it necessary to unfasten his sweatshirt from around his waist and slip it on over his head. As Sora zipped up his coat and rewound his scarf, arranging it to a comfortable spot under his chin, Riku looked up at the sun, brows furrowed.
"It never gets this cold before the sun fully sets."
In response, Sora merely turned and stuck out his tongue, eyebrows waggling with exaggerated expressiveness as he looked at Riku before speaking again.
"Id by tug shtaid red dow?"
Caught off-guard by a question unrelated to his own observation as much as he was the incoherence of the words spoken, Riku paused before responding.
"What?"
Sora grinned, tongue caught lightly between his teeth, before more carefully articulating his question.
"Is my tongue stained red now?"
"Oh."
Riku swallowed.
"Yeah. A little."
"Awesome."
With a satisfied look, Sora took off toward the attraction's entrance in the distance, leaving Riku scrambling to keep pace.
By the time he caught up, Sora was already in front of the ticket counter, one hand shoved into his coat pocket to retrieve his wallet, then passing enough currency to the cashier to pay for the both of them.
Biting his lip in consternation, Riku decided to speak up.
"You've been paying for everything today. Shouldn't I be covering something?"
Or at least paying for his own ticket….
"It's fine." Sora waved him off. "After all the times you spotted me last semester, I think we might just be breaking even with this."
As the cashier rang them up and the tickets exchanged hands, Riku noted two other items passed over that Sora grabbed before turning away from the counter and offering up one to him, arm outstretched.
It was…
…a Santa hat.
Or maybe an elf cap. Whatever.
At first, he just stared at it, before shifting his gaze to Sora, whose eyes held a gleam that started the full speed fluttering in Riku's stomach again, even though he didn't like the implications one bit. He shot Sora a look before eyeing the proffered item a second time.
"I'm not wearing that."
With an exaggerated eye roll and a momentary pout, Sora merely shrugged, then moved away from the ticket counter, hands rising to position one of the hats on his own head.
"You're no fun."
The declaration was spoken in a good-natured tone, as though Sora was used to reactions like this from him by now. As it stood, Riku mused as he followed his friend toward the entrance, Sora probably was.
He watched as Sora tucked a section of the second hat into his back pocket, the cotton ball tip bouncing behind him like an animated tail as he headed over to another worker who tore their tickets in half at the attraction's front entrance.
It'd been a good few years since their parents had last taken them here, but Riku remembered it well enough. Even through the more forgiving eyes of a child, the decorations had usually been right on the cusp between mawkish and kitschy, designed to appeal to island locals who hadn't come into contact with much that encompassed a traditional conception of a Northern Hemisphere winter. He remembered the people dressed up like elves, plastic reindeer, blinking Christmas lights, and a veritable overkill of tinsel wrapped around everything. Riku even remembered the feeble attempt at a Santa, with an artificially padded stomach and a beard held on by elastic bands around both ears that did nothing to off-set the almond shape of the man's eyes or the familiar voice that'd tipped both he and Sora off that it was simply Mr. Sakaido who ran a nearby souvenir shop beneath all that red and white gaudiness.
What he didn't remember was Christmas Town — second word silently amended upon seeing yet another blinking sign — having ever been so authentically cold.
Shoulders rising, Sora tucked the bottom of half of his face into his scarf before shoving both hands into his jeans pockets and saying something, the words too faint for Riku to comprehend.
As they continued down the entryway path, Riku snaked his hands into the center pocket of his sweatshirt and glanced over at his friend.
"What'd you say?"
A muffled chuckle and Sora reached up with one hand to pull the scarf away from his mouth.
"I said, I told you to bring a jacket."
"I didn't think it would be this cold." As Riku spoke, he took in their surroundings. From the opening tunnel of arched pine trees to the snow crunching beneath their feet, he found himself surprised by how realistic this all seemed. "They must've spent a small fortune on ice or air conditioning or …something."
"Mm."
The single syllable hummed between Sora's lips. Without responding further, he reached for one of Riku's hands within his hoodie pouch and pulled him through the pine tree underpass, then out into the open.
What Riku saw rendered him momentarily speechless, save for the involuntary chattering of his teeth.
Snow, everywhere — on the ground, dusted onto trees and on the awnings of storefronts decorated to look like gingerbread houses. The street signs even looked like candy canes, their red and white colors alternating to match nearby building window frames.
And in the center of it all, a towering tree, decorated with lights, tinsel and ornaments, almost blinding in their collective, twinkling brightness.
None of this was remotely how he remembered it. The town's budget must have increased at least tenfold to execute something of this scale.
"What the … I mean, how the hell—"
Sora's delighted laugh cut him off.
"I also told you it'd be worth it. One of these days you're gonna have to learn to trust me, o ye of little faith."
Trust.
Another image flashed, this time of an argument during fall semester of their second year in university. Resounding uncertainty soon followed. This time, Riku recognized the scene as a disagreement over the status of their relationship after an evening of drunken partying had led to a night he'd feared they both would end up regretting. It'd been Sora who'd accepted the shift from childhood friendship to romantic attraction seemingly without effort. Riku'd been the one who'd begun to question everything until he'd actively started pushing Sora away. It'd been the culmination of weeks-worth of awkward conversations, and standoffish behavior on his part, until Sora'd finally countered every single one of Riku's doubts and left no question as to where he personally stood on the matter.
The dispute had ended with Sora on top of him, Riku's back pressed into the mattress of his dorm room bed, kisses almost bruising in their intensity as his best friend drove the point home.
That'd been a year ago, sometime during fall semester of their seecond year. A little more, technically, Riku supposed, if they counted the weeks leading up to it, as Sora always seemed to.
Then, a sense of affection, along with considerable relief as he and Sora simply stood off to the side at the edge of a converted street curb and took in the scene before them. Memories were coming back to him, a bit patchy, but that was beside the point. The only thing that mattered was that they were returning, Riku figured.
"Want to go see Santa?"
On cue, Riku looked up toward the dusky sky above them, then adopted an expression of lordliness before looking down again.
"What do you think?"
Sora offered a mischievous look in return.
"I think you're deflecting so no one can announce you were too naughty for presents this year."
"And you weren't?"
Riku scoffed and shot Sora a look of mock-skepticism, to which Sora responded with a face that was expert-level angelic.
"I'm salty sometimes, sure, but sweet too. I think I'm safe."
With a wink, Sora reached up to secure his hat as he inclined his head. In the quickly dimming light of approaching sunset, his face was illuminated, sunlight reflecting off a prominent cheekbone, brunet tresses flickering a momentary blond.
The image was unnerving, the letters of his friend's name rearranging in his head into a combination that made little sense to him.
Unaware of Riku's internalized turmoil, Sora took off at a brisk speed-walk down a side street, angling his way toward the large tree at Christmas Town's center. A moment later, Riku was stifling his misgivings as he sprinted to catch up.
There was a growing line in front of the tree, mostly parents with young children, bouncing and chattering with palpable excitement. Just as Riku intended to turn and inform Sora that getting to the front of the line might take hours, he felt a hand slide into his, a light squeeze, and gentle encouragement to head in another direction.
They approached the tree from the opposite side, passing workers dressed like Santa's elves. Hand stinging in his friend's grip, unaccustomed to the biting cold that by all accounts shouldn't have even been artificially achievable, Riku took Sora's lead as he slowed in front of a snow-lined fence that divided a circular walking path around the tree from its interior. The only way closer to it, Riku expected, was via the throng of people queued up at the front.
"Where are we going, exactly? If you want to see Santa, shouldn't we be getting in line before it gets even longer?"
"I said I wanted to see Santa, not sit on his lap." Sora's brows rose as he regarded his friend. "How old do you think I am?"
Tempted to admit he didn't have a firm grasp on anything even remotely temporal at the moment, the admission died before it found vocal purchase as a pair of nearby voices drifted over to him.
"—when Ven'll be back?"
"Sometime soon, I'd guess. He just went to get more supplies for wrapping the last of these gifts."
The first voice was deep, the other pitch higher. Both were accompanied by the measured jangling of what sounded bells. As he and Sora continued walking around the circular path, it didn't take long for either speaker to come into view.
Outfitted in red velvet and fluffy white faux fur and surrounded by all manner of gifts, most wrapped in festive paper with a few still undecorated, they were a pair of Christmas Town workers, without question. Both were closer to the interior fence than they were the tree, with the man leaning against it, arms crossed. The woman was perched on the fence itself, her legs dangling and swinging with just enough momentum for the bells on the top of both boots to jingle in response. Both workers wore elf hats with a white cottony ball at one end, their hair peeking out much like Sora's, the man's a natural brown and the woman's dyed a bright shade of blue, or possibly purple. It was getting harder to distinguish between similar colors in the fast dimming light of late afternoon.
Sora spared a single glance at them, then strolled past, unconcerned. As they walked by, both workers looked up and the woman offered a smile, which Sora was quick to return. Although Riku kept pace with his friend, his gaze lingered on the pair, scrutinizing in his peripherals until they rounded a corner that made it impossible to continue looking.
There was something about both of them that seemed notable, the significance just shy of his ability to grasp.
"Those two elf workers …did they look familiar to you?" Riku caught his friend's eye, then gestured back to where they'd just been. "I feel like we've seen them somewhere before, maybe when we were younger."
Sora slowed to a stop, eyes tapering as his expression grew thoughtful.
"I don't think so? They look older than us so we probably didn't go to school with them."
"Right."
Internally, Riku deflated but followed as Sora continued forward. Christmas Village, this latest pair, even his and Sora's ages and the status of their relationship — every time it seemed like he was on the verge of recalling something, it turned out to be wrong, or at least a far cry from his natural expectations. More frustrating than frightening, it was still a cause for underlying worry that could only be pushed away from the forefront of his thoughts for so long.
As they took the last turn and arrived at the opposite end from where they'd first started, Sora scampered ahead, making his way toward the fence's opening. He slowed to a stop where it rose into an overhead archwary on either side of the path, then beckoned Riku over with a flick of his wrist.
As Riku approached, Sora turned away from him, arms hooking around the fence's topmost post, gaze directed out past the tree to the holiday scene arranged in front of it. Joining him, Riku took in the line of people they'd just bypassed, following it up to a red carpet runner that led the way to Christmas Town's main attraction. A pair of children were perched on each of Santa's knees, speaking in animated tones. Even from this distance, Riku could see that the man wasn't Mr. Sakaido. As Sora leaned over and the pair of them brushed shoulders, Riku's attention refocused on someone else entirely.
Blond hair and blue eyes filled his vision, so much so that he didn't bother to note the uniformity of the boy's clothes with the other workers around him any more than he saw the spools of wrapping paper clasped under one thin arm.
The hint of a name reemerged, faint and just out of reach of his mental faculties. Oblivious to the acute attention now leveled at him, the boy continued past the queue of parents and children, and across the area where Santa sat surrounded by presents, offering a smile at an approaching child, before disappearing out of view around the far side of the tree.
Now gone, Riku still gawked at where the boy had last been sighted. The details around him blurred in and out of focus, pulsing with an energy that matched the pounding in both temples that, in turn, took their cue from the fettered beating of his own anxious pulse. He took a breath in and released it slowly, repeating the process in an effort to remain outwardly collected.
It was at that moment that Sora leaned into him and looked up from beneath his jocular hat, eyes traveling past Riku to someplace above both their heads.
"They put mistletoe above the archway for a reason, you know."
A split second later, he was reaching for Riku, a cold hand pressed against either cheek as he guided one set of lips down toward his waiting mouth.
Narrowing his eyes to slits, Riku returned Sora's kiss, but the imbalanced feeling didn't vanish, and shapes lost focus in his peripheral vision.
Still, the other boy's features remained burned behind both eyes, blond hair mussed up by a bed of cowlicks and blue eyes so similar to Sora's in front of him.
Where had he gone, and why had he chosen to run? What underlying significance was Sora's name in anagram, a criss-cross letter knife-like and effectively severing both syllables?
Even after the kiss was over, Sora lingered, hands rising to thread through Riku's hair. Their collective breaths misted in front of them, creating a smokescreen over the scenery around them in the last vestiges of the day's natural light.
"Hey, Riku."
Sora's voice was breathless, hushed, and Riku wanted nothing more than to pull him close and cling to him until everything began making sense again.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. A red Christmas outfit that reminded him of the color of someone else's hair entirely…
"Hmm?"
"Bet you don't know why the sun sets red."
A vision of Number Eight's lanky frame replaced that of Sora's own Nobody, and Riku's full-body flinch was immediate.
He wanted to speak, to shake off the encroaching sense of panic, even ask Sora to repeat himself because Riku knew he had to have heard him wrong.
But the world was twirling around them both, Sora still smiling as if nothing was out of sorts, blurring at the edges, his dark coat becoming more and more translucent with every passing second. Christmas Town faded into nothing more distinct than a red hue left over from the last remnants of sunset; it passed through Sora, headed for Riku, and burst in front of him, so blinding in its intensity that he was forced not only to close his eyes but to release his friend to cover his face with both hands, two orbs of expressive blue all that he could hold onto as the world fell to pieces around him.
When the spinning stopped and the world finally righted itself, Riku found himself alone, amid nothing but purblind white. Yet somehow, somewhere subconscious, he knew that a girl had been watching every moment of all of this.
IV.
Revival
Darkness, everywhere. It is different this time, the air around him familiar, if not an actual source of comfort.
For a time, he remains prone on his back, eyes closed, simply listening to the subtle sounds of electronics around him. None are situated in his room, save for the supply that powers lights he has never bothered to use. Nevertheless, a subtle humming meets his ears. It is a near constant in this place, an essential irritant to keep running a virtual world that once boasted a sole human resident, and the occasional cadre of others who arrived from time to time to pay him a visit, himself included.
Eyes still shut, Riku pushes himself up to seated, then reaches for the strip of cloth he keeps on a nearby side table. He makes quick work in securing it across his face, then arranges his hair over it behind his head, fingers moving forward to ensure his eyes are fully covered by the jet-black fabric.
Only then does he open them, breath held in anxious anticipation, an everyday experiment.
There is nothing to see. He has done his job well.
Other senses heighten as he rises to standing and reaches for a change of clothes, fingers brushing over the intersecting metal teeth of an open zipper, ears sensitive to the sound of fabric against fabric as he shrugs into his ankle-length overcoat. Taste comes next after reaching for a glass of water he filled the evening prior, throat appreciative of the quenching properties the chilled drink has to offer.
Through it all, the subtle smell of lilac and the knowledge that he seems to have had his own visitor at some point over the night's past handful of hours.
He doesn't idle in this space, making straight for the door the moment he's dressed. Beyond his room, a hallway spreads out in either direction. Although he can't see it, Riku is familiar with where each path leads.
He turns left, then hangs a right after eighteen brisk steps, following a similar pattern of measured counting as he makes his way through additional corridors, then down an old, stone stairwell. He stops only when an industrial-strength steel door blocks his path, and even then only for the beat it takes to remove one leather glove, reach up, and place his hand against the security device.
With an electronic blip, the scanner accepts his handprint and the door groans open, halving itself as either side slides apart to garner him entrance.
Then, back to counting steps, to walking past vast technology that reaches from floor to ceiling. He passes through one room and another, then down a narrow hall, aware of the handful of memory pods that dot the wall to his right. Two currently in use, the others are not, and each is egg-shaped and tinted, with petal-like protrusions near the floor pressed flush against the pod unless otherwise activated. He remembers that much about their visual appearance from the first time he saw them years earlier.
The simple awareness of their presence slows him, the echo of his footsteps reflective of this new sedate pace, hands now clasped in front of him, stance approaching reverent. To Riku, this is as holy a place as any he's encountered in the myriad worlds he's visited or even heard talk about.
Nevertheless, he continues onward. The pod he seeks is larger, contained in its own space one more room over.
Another identity scanner, this time retinal. This annual occasion is the only time Riku willingly lifts his blindfold. Even so, it's momentary torture, his eyes unaccustomed to even the dimmest of lighting that the underground floors of this large house boast.
Although his expression remains impassive, it is painful, a burning white at the back of his vision as he forces himself to keep his eyes open one second, then two, three, and four, until the device's pixellated red readout turns approving and blue, the door lock clicks open, and he can return the cloth covering to its rightful place beneath his brow and forehead. Even after he's done so, bright specs flicker, indifferent to whether his eyes remain open or return to their preferred default of closed. They'll dissolve eventually, like snow flurries unable to find purchase in an environment not cold enough to longterm sustain them, a birth-and-death lifespan that endures for minutes, at most.
The target of this early morning journey lies at the back of a modest room. Six confident longer steps, and he now stands before it, breath misting a small patch of its milky exterior directly in front of him. He longs to reach out, in fact plans to, but the security device interjects, tipping him off to another person's impending entrance.
The soft padding of approaching feet identifies the new presence, the light thrum of sandals and the swish of material that is more shift than dress supplementing further.
The girl stops her forward trajectory only when she is standing beside him. For a pregnant pause, they remain side-by-side, neither speaking. It is Riku who ultimately breaks the silence.
"I had an uncharacteristically vivid dream last night. That was your doing, I imagine."
It isn't a question, and his expression betrays none of the warring feelings within him, or the desperate internal voice decrying the life he's been handed as unjust. Torturous.
Beside him, the girl remains silent, perhaps considering her next words. When she finally speaks, there is a note of uncertainty that Riku can clearly hear.
"You were having that nightmare again. I just wanted to help."
"I prefer that you don't."
Though firm, even to Riku's own ears his voice sounds resigned. Tired. It takes all of his mental resources to perform his daily duties on the fitful sleep he routinely gets. Thoughts of what might've been for Sora and him both if circumstances had been different are something Riku can neither abide nor reconcile with the reality of his current situation.
He hears a shuffling, a subtle distribution of weight between two small sandaled feet. Naminé doesn't deserve his ire, has spent all of her time and effort trying to patch back together the memories of a boy she hardly knows in an attempt to right the wrongs others have forced her to commit; Riku knows this. Nevertheless, his own emotional reserves were emptied long ago, and he has no use for friendships in a place like this. His sole focus is restoring to Sora what was lost in an act of inspired selflessness.
Although fully awake, Riku can still taste the Sora of his dreamscape, a mélange of raspberry and cold-chapped lips against his. The knowledge that this version of his friend wasn't real to begin with irritates him. It rankles.
Moreover, not once after all these years has it ever stopped aching.
And he can't even bring himself to be angry at the girl beside him. He doesn't have enough energy to expend on anything even remotely less than necessary at this point.
"I wanted to tell you… I have news."
The final word prickles down his spine, simultaneously builds anticipation and forms enduring nausea. News is good, potentially. It could also mean another brand of the same repeated heartache that is becoming second nature to him. Crossing his arms over his chest, Riku juts his chin and cautions himself not to foster hope where none can realistically grow.
"And?"
He can sense her hesitation, which means she can't guess how he will react to what she's about to say. He's never so much as laid a finger on her, but he still recognizes fear when he sees it.
Or senses, in this case. Outside of the visual inspiration of his own mind, Riku can only guess at Naminé's appearance, postulations based on her relative height and the timbre of her tremulous voice.
"They've been located."
She pauses again, perhaps as a result of Riku's own jaw tightening, back molars connecting audibly before grinding.
"Last night, DiZ found them both."
Her words leave him feeling a combination of sick and giddy. How long has he waited for just such a declaration? How long had he tailed Sora's Nobody in that virtual reality prison, verbally taunting and physically sparring with someone who shouldn't have existed in the first place, before another Nobody had infiltrated the system and convinced the boy to flee with him? It'd surprised everyone, the senior members of Organization XIII more than anyone, he suspects, not that he cares. What matters is that it threw their entire game plan into a tailspin. Without the Nobody Roxas, Sora will remain in his perpetual sleep-like state.
"Then, I expect, I'll be leaving here soon."
More than five years of preparation for just this moment. Depending on the new information's accuracy, it might all be over with by this time next year.
"I'll let him know…"
Naminé speaks in hushed tones, as though reluctant to disturb the sanctity of the space. He hears the soft squeak of a rubber sole on the concrete floor and the tread of four quick steps as she turns to leave.
"I do have a question."
She pauses, but he senses no further movement beyond the subtle feeling of invisible expectation filling the space between them.
"You said they were located together."
"I did..."
The response is more a question than confirmation.
"Then, what of Eight? What are my orders if he tries to intervene?"
A wooly-thick swallow follows his inquiry, but Riku remains where he stands, not bothering to turn toward her, unseeing eyes still trained on the pod in front of him.
"We have no use for the Nobody of Lea." The words are spoken in a dull tone of voice, and Riku doesn't have to inquire further to know that Naminé is simply repeating what DiZ has conveyed to her, regardless of her personal feelings on the matter. "Do what you must to ensure Roxas returns unharmed."
She waits a moment longer to see if he will pose other questions. With a nod of his head that is almost imperceptible, Riku dismisses her, arms still crossed, posture steadfast and rigid until the door slides open at her approach, she passes through it, and it closes once more.
Only then does his stance relax, shoulders rounding, hands dropping down to either side of his body, listless and swinging of their own volition. Only then does Riku take a half step forward, until his face is mere inches away from the pod that houses his best friend since childhood.
In years past, he has held one-sided conversations with the pod, the boy in a form of persistent stasis within it more specifically.
He has nothing more to say. A realization akin to enlightenment, it is testament to long-held doubt that his words are ever reaching their intended audience, even in the most subconscious of manners.
But now, a spark of hope, if just a little. Here, a light, weak but still present after all these years, one that is dim but has never truly gone out.
Despite the date, once he is finished here he expects to leave immediately. There is no way to gauge how much time he has remaining to act on this new information before it becomes outdated and effectively useless to him — to his best friend also, by virtue of extension.
Expecting to turn and make his way back to his room to pack up the few belongings that remain dear to him and those that could be used on the journey ahead, Riku finds himself strangely rooted, physically incapable of inducing his legs to move away. From one side, an arm trails up, stopping only when his palm is flat against the pod's convex surface. A subtle incline of his head and his cheek is resting beside it, breath a steady rise and fall as though he's breathing for both of them.
He remains there no more than a few moments, three words whispered against the pod's opaque overlay that he hopes will bloom again one day. The sentiment is inaudible to even the strongest of DiZ's hidden speakers that he knows record all of his conversations. There's no real sense of privacy in this place, never has been for as long as he's been in residence.
Then he leaves, without so much as a backward glance, but the words he's just uttered still echo between both ears long after. For the first time in years, he even allows himself the small luxury of belief that they may have been heard — and that this will be the last time he ever has to perform this macabre annual visit solo.
"Merry Christmas, Sora."
The next time he visits his best friend, Riku makes a promise to himself that one set of eyes will be conscious and open, the other no longer covered, the dark swatch of cloth across his face abandoned forever.