Riku had been walking home when the Winged boy falls from the sky.
The sun is setting, leaving darkness in its wake, and a gentle breeze blows from the ocean, fresh and slightly chilly. Riku has his hair tied in a messy ponytail, keeping stray strands from blowing into his face. His stride is long and his steps are heavy with anger and frustration. His hands clench and unclench by his sides as he walks. His jacket is unzipped but it's not yet cold enough to necessitate it being done up.
He doesn't register the scream at first; he thinks it's some kid playing on another part of the islands. It doesn't occur to him until moments later that the panicked shout had come from above him.
His first thought when the boy drops out of the cloudless sky and lands merely a few paces ahead of him is, 'I've never met a Winged before.'
Riku is wary of the stranger and looks around to see if anyone else had witnessed this. The path is empty, except for the two males. The boy's body is a lifeless pile on the ground, a tangle of limbs. Riku had seen the last part of his fall; he'd managed to slow himself in the last few feet of descent.
The boy groans and tentatively pulls himself upright. He leans on his hands placed on the pavement behind and blinks blearily. One leg is extended outwards, the other is folded beneath him. His hair sticks up in dishevelled, brunette spikes, some flat against his head, others easily defying gravity. His skin is fair but blemished with bruises and grazes. When his eyes focus on Riku, he's taken aback by just how blue they are. He looks young, but maybe only a year or two younger than Riku.
Riku takes a step forwards. His gaze darts about the other's figure and identifies the problem instantly. From his shoulder blades, two immense wings protrude. He imagines they were once pure white but have now been sullied to a pale grey. His right wing is folded against his back. His left is outstretched and quivering.
The boy follows Riku's stare and surveys the damage for himself. With a small grimace, he touches at the wing gingerly, then sharply retracts his hand.
Whatever Riku had been so furious about earlier escapes his mind. Instead, his head is full of thoughts and questions, all centred around this peculiar guy.
His feet cover the rest of the distance without his brain thinking much about it. He extends a hand to the boy and pulls him to his feet. He wavers slightly. Riku waits by his side to catch him when he inevitably falls.
"Thank you," the boy slurs sleepily, leaning heavily against Riku's side.
Riku wants to ask who he is, where he came from, what he's doing here, why he fell from the sky. But he doesn't. He continues on his way home, now with a Winged boy gripping at his shirt.
He looks down at the boy as he walks. He's at least a head shorter than him, but feels surprisingly solid for a boy who looks so scrawny. His muscles are wiry and lean, concealed by a dark yet practical uniform that clings to his skin and cuts off at his knees. Riku can't see a symbol or logo on the uniform, nor can he see any prescribed weapons on the boy's figure.
The journey to Riku's apartment usually takes about five minutes, but with the boy it takes almost twenty. The sun has since set and Riku is navigating the well-worn paths by streetlight. He can't tell if the boy is more awake or more tired when they reach his door; he's mumbling but hardly any of it is coherent.
"Can you stand on your own?" he asks. He's thankful he lives on the ground floor; he's not sure he could've carried the boy much further.
The boy nods and distances himself from Riku. Riku fishes in his pocket for his keys and makes quick work of the lock. He throws a hurried look around, making sure his landlady hasn't spotted his late-night guest, and ushers the boy inside.
He seems more aware of his situation now. His eyes are brighter and his steps are less feeble. The first thing he does, however, is collapse face-first onto Riku's couch. The couch, that's small and tired from years of use from various owners, groans under the sudden weight.
"You okay?" Riku asks, trying not to pay too much attention to the fact that he'd just brought a complete stranger home.
He hears a muffled, "Yeah."
He moves towards the end of the couch, the end where the Winged's head is resting, and crouches down.
The boy tilts his head, pinning Riku with his blue gaze.
"I'm Sora," he says, and Riku finds himself replying with, "Riku," though he doesn't elaborate much. He simply watches as Sora sits up, his wings draped lazily over the back of the couch.
"I sprained my wing," Sora says in lieu of an explanation.
Riku arches his brows. "In mid-air?"
Sora offers him a sheepish smile and a half-hearted shrug. "I'm pretty tired. My wings couldn't take my weight any longer."
Riku hadn't known that was something that could happen. He only knows what he remembers from his school days, when a few brief lessons had covered the topic of the other kin sharing the earth.
"I should go," Sora says, and struggles to his feet. "I need to get back."
Riku rolls his eyes and pushes him back down. "Don't be stupid. I dragged you all the way here. I'm not letting you limp away untreated."
Sora stares at him with widened eyes and an impish grin. He nods. "Okay. Do you know how to treat wings?"
"Not a clue," Riku replied honestly. "I was counting on you to tell me."
With Sora's guidance, Riku fetches a towel, some ice, and bandages from his kitchen and medicine cabinet. While he's there, he grabs some painkillers and tosses them to Sora as he re-enters the living room.
Sora's kneeling on the floor, in the space between the couch and small television. Riku can see the difference in his wings now; the wounded one is set further forwards than the other and Sora holds it at an awkward angle.
Riku sits to his left and places the items on the floor. He'd been about to offer Sora a glass of water to down his pills with, but he sees the other has already taken two without the aid.
"So is it like treating a normal sprain?" Riku asks. He's dealt with enough of his own injuries to know generally what he's doing. He's just not sure of the technicalities when it comes to Sora's extra appendages.
"Kind of. You just have to be careful of the feathers."
Riku nods. His eyes meet Sora's and something silent passes between them. Sora gives the smallest of nods and curls his hand into a fist, his knuckles paling and nails cutting small crescents into his palm.
Riku places a hand by Sora's shoulder blade and the other by the joint in the wing. He doesn't give Sora a warning. He pulls the wing back in a smooth but quick motion.
"Gah!"
Sora's shoulders fall forwards and his face scrunches in pain.
"You okay?" Riku feels silly for asking. The answer is obviously 'no'.
"Yes," Sora lies through gritted teeth.
While Sora's preoccupied with overcoming the sudden shock of pain, Riku runs his hands gently over the bones in Sora's wing. Sora tells him when he's found the source of his pain and Riku takes his hand away from the area. He gathers up the semi-melted ice and wraps it in the towel. He gives Sora a warning this time before he presses the impromptu icepack against the muscle.
Sora whines at the contact and his wing shudders. A feather or two falls from it.
"I need to get back," Sora repeats.
Riku regards him with a bemused stare. "You're injured. You're not going anywhere right now. You need to keep it iced."
Sora waves him off. "I know, I've done this before. But I need to get back. I was supposed to be back hours ago."
"Where do you live?" Riku asks. Sora doesn't answer. For a moment or two, Riku thinks he's fallen asleep. He almost jumps when Sora turns his head towards him.
"I don't."
Riku frowns at that but decides not to push the question any further. He knows enough about difficult private lives to know when someone wants to leave it alone.
Riku ends up keeping the ice packed pressed against the wing for the full twenty minutes while Sora dozes. He tries to wake him up but each time Sora wakes for a few seconds, only to return to his restless slumber.
He groans quietly when Riku wraps up his wing. His hand is cold, numb, and wet; his legs ache from sitting awkwardly for so long; his eyes are drooping with the need to sleep.
Sora has drifted off completely now, and Riku cannot wake him, no matter how much he shakes his shoulder and calls his name. With a sigh, he gathers Sora up in his arms, mindful not to jostle his wings too much, and carries him to his room. He's light, disturbingly so. He bones are much lighter than a human's, allowing him the ability of flight. He feels practically weightless in Riku's strong arms.
He sets him on his bed and wrestles with the blankets as he attempts to pull them over the Winged's body without waking him. He snatches a spare pillow and blanket from the closet as he passes. It's been a long, tiring day. He doesn't even care about how uncomfortable the couch is as he settles down. He's too tired of everything to care.
When he wakes the next morning, all that's left of Sora is a few scattered feathers.
He goes about his monotonous routine; shower, dress, eat, work. He doesn't think; thinking is dangerous these days. Hardly anything good comes of it. He tries to distance himself from his thoughts. He tries not to dwell on actions he can't undo and words he can't take back.
He works as a waiter at a small, cosy restaurant by the sea front of the main island. It's traditional and welcoming and mostly attracts curious tourists, although Riku does see his fair share of native regulars.
The islands have a rich, cultural history, which paired with the paradisiacal scenery makes for an ultimate tourist destination. Riku had never travelled beyond his homeland. His family never had enough money to indulge in such activities, and he'd been content with the islands as a child.
He serves meals and takes orders in such a rush that he can hardly keep track of the time. He can't feel the ache of his feet until he pauses to rest between influxes of customers. The restaurant is understaffed, with two waiters having recently been let go to move onto better things. One day that would be Riku, when he has enough money to leave the islands or attend the local college.
He ignores rude customers and tries to be increasingly accommodating to the patrons with bulging wallets. The pay is bad but the tips are okay; it's how he makes it through the week.
By the time his shift ends, he realises he'd barely thought about Sora at all. He'd meant to ask around, find out what happened to him, but he'd forgotten. He hopes he made it back home safely; it had been one of the few times when one of Riku's good deeds hadn't come back to hit him in the face.
He receives a text as he hangs up his apron and shouts his farewell to his colleagues over his shoulder.
From: Kairi
the new guy at the coffee shop on 4th street totally has a crush on me
Riku sighs and taps on his phone's keyboard.
To: Kairi
So?
From: Kairi
he gives me free/discounted coffee. you want in?
A smile pulls at the corners of his lips. He can feel the exhaustion of his long shift settling in. He'd need a boost if he wanted to make it past the evening.
The bright early morning skies had descended into sweltering mid-afternoon heat. Many beach-goers had sought refuge in the shade while some, either bravely or foolishly, still lounged around on the sand, mostly unclothed.
Riku ties his jacket around his waist and replies to Kairi. She's already at the coffee shop. He's at most five minutes away.
She beckons him over as he ducks through the door and sweeps his gaze around the place. It's a stereotypical chain-coffee shop, all bright colours, sterilised surfaces, and plush seats. Kairi had claimed a table by the window and purchased their drinks already. She cradles her peppermint mocha in both hands and Riku takes a sip of his skinny latte as soon as he sits down.
"I tried calling you last night," Kairi says offhandedly, in her way that makes it clear she's being nosy without actually saying it.
Riku raises a shoulder in a shrug. "I had to help out a friend."
Kairi stares at him. Riku realises his mistake. He doesn't have friends, not anymore.
"I met someone," he amends, and technically it's not a lie.
Kairi leans forwards, a grin alight on her features. She tucks her auburn hair behind her ear and asks, "Who?"
"Just a guy."
"What's he like?"
Riku shrugs again. He doesn't really know. The Sora he'd met had been exhausted, injured, and anxious to return from wherever he'd come.
"Oh, come on, Riku," she whines, endearingly immature.
"He'd a Winged," he says softly, which shuts Kairi up immediately. Winged aren't much of a rarity, but they weren't common the islands either. "He hurt himself and I helped him. He left this morning."
"What's him name?" Kairi asks, her expression lax with wonder.
"Sora," Riku answers. "I think it means 'sky' in some language, which I guess is pretty fitting."
Kairi leans with her elbow on the table, chin propped against her fist. "What did he injure?"
"Sprained wing."
Kairi nods and mulls over this information. She's training in nursing and healing magic. Riku wonders how much better Sora would've faired had he fallen in front of Kairi instead. She's a compassionate person, more so than anyone he'd met before, and helps people in need, regardless of their past or their present. She only wants the best for their future. He's lucky to have a friend like her, Riku thinks. Had the circumstances been any different, he's sure they would've ended up together. But the circumstances aren't different and he's just lucky she's so forgiving as a friend.
"I've never performed on a wing before," she muses to herself. "What's it like?"
"Kind of awkward to deal with. It's like tending to a head injury with lots of hair in the way."
She smiles at his comparison. "Where did he go?"
Riku shakes his head and looks down at his coffee. The swirled design on the foam has blurred and faded. "I don't know. He fell from the sky and left without a trace."
"So he's like your Icarus?" Kairi asked coyly.
Riku glares up at her, but there's no venom in the gesture, only lassitude. "Icarus died, Kairi."
Her brows dip at his words but an easy smile soon replaces the frown. "I didn't mean it like that."
Riku knows.
He hears nothing from Sora for hours. The hours stretch into days; the days stretch into weeks.
He forgets about Sora and returns to the routine of his life without disruption from external forces. He's civil to his colleagues, hangs out with Kairi when she asks him, and avoids his landlady when his pay doesn't quite make up this month's rent. No more bright-eyed boys fall from the sky. No one else pays him much attention.
He returns home from work one day, after having made a slight detour to restock on groceries, to find his front door ever so slightly ajar. He tenses and advances slowly. He could handle himself against an intruder and there is little of worth within his apartment, but an uneasy feeling still twists his gut.
The lights are all flipped on and the television is humming with audience laughter. Riku sets his grocery bag down in the hallway and closes the door with a soft click. He slips his shoes off as to quieten his footsteps. He walks further into the apartment.
"Sora?" he asks in disbelief.
The Winged looks over his shoulder at the other and grins. "Hey. I let myself in, I hope you don't mind."
Riku finds that he doesn't. "Close the door properly next time," he grumbles and goes to retrieve the groceries.
Sora trails behind him as he puts vegetables and bags of pasta away.
"You should put your spare key in a less obvious place," Sora advises. Riku ignored this.
"Where have you been?" He doesn't expect Sora to visit him every day, but even the slightest confirmation that he'd made it out okay would've been nice. His sudden reappearance has shocked him. He's not sure how he's supposed to react. Relieved? Yes. Happy? Maybe. Angry? A definite possibility.
Sora shrugs, his seemingly ever-present grin widening. "Everywhere. I meant to thank you properly and send you a gift or something, but I was really busy."
Riku turns to him but doesn't reply. He looks over Sora, who's standing against the counter on the other side of the cramped kitchen. He looks taller, somehow, more confident. The bags beneath his eyes have faded and his hair looks lustrous, his skin brighter. He keeps his wings tight against his back. The feathers are all smoothed down and they're cleaner than the last time Riku had seen them.
"I was in the area and I felt bad for just leaving without saying anything," Sora continues.
"You left some feathers behind," Riku says randomly. They'd been picked up and disposed of weeks ago.
Sora laughs a joyful tinkling sound. "You can keep them. I'm sure I've got enough," he jokes, flexing his wings.
Riku's not sure what to do with him. He'd like more than anything to return to how things were before, but Sora didn't seem like the type who would give up easily. He reminds Riku of an eager puppy, energetic and excitable. He almost misses the half-unconscious Sora.
"What do you do?" Riku asks.
Sora cocks his head to the side, brows drawn in confusion.
"You said you had to get back before. Something kept you busy."
"Oh." Sora pauses briefly, then continues, "I work for the King as an Explorer. I'm gonna take my Master exam next year."
Riku stares at him, mouth agape. He'd not expected such a small, unusual boy to have such a position of power. Explorers are handpicked by the King himself and sent off to various lands to protect citizens from threats and gather data about their cultures and lives.
"What about you?" he asks, plucking an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite from it.
"I'm a waiter."
Sora's eyes light up and he beams around his apple. "That's cool!"
Riku has no idea what to say to that. He has a common job available to anyone with enough perseverance and patience, whereas Sora is living every seven-year-old's dream.
"Do you have any food?" Sora asks, as if he hadn't just watched Riku put his shopping away.
"I guess you intend on staying, then."
Sora's gaze falls and he lowers the apple from his mouth. "Oh, I mean, I can leave if you want. You're probably busy and—"
"I don't mind," Riku interrupts. Sora smiles at him. He smiles back.
For the first time in a while, he's glad for the company.
Sora crashes into Riku's life and refuses to leave, not that Riku really encourages him to. He provides a pleasant contrast to his dull life. He brings with him stories of lands Riku had never heard of and people he would never meet. He talks for hours on end about anything and everything with such passion Riku didn't know was possible to possess. Sora is genuinely a good person. Riku needs more of them in his life.
Before he realises it, a month has passed since Sora's return and his routine has altered from its previous state. Sora calls round at least once a week, twice if he can manage it. Occasionally he's sporting bruises and various injuries, but he waves of Riku's concerns. It's his job, he's used to it.
Sora confirms Riku's earlier assumptions; he is only sixteen but has been an Explorer for almost two years. Riku wants to know more but Sora never says, so he never asks.
They're good with boundaries. They know when they're stepping into dark waters and when they need to turn back to shore. Sora's surprisingly secretive for one who seems so open.
He doesn't notice how different he is compared to before until Kairi brings it up. She insists on meeting up at the coffee shop again, where the barista still pines over her.
"You seem happier," she comments, regarding him with a twinkle in her eye.
"Do I?" Riku asks.
Kairi nods.
Riku had been cooking when he hears ruckus from elsewhere in his apartment. He leaves the stove to investigate, tracing the noise back to his room. The sight that greets him isn't the one he'd been expecting.
Sora's climbing through his window. Riku's not sure how he managed to get it open, or why he didn't just knock on the door. He drops from the windowsill, lands unsteadily on his feet, and sways. Riku rushes over just in time to catch him as he faints. His skin is heavily bruised and wet. A bloodied feather flutters to the floor, speckled red standing out against the white.