"Bye, Miss Kaito! I'll see you tomorrow!" Kairi's skipping out of Riku's front door was halted by his mother, who grabbed her head and kissed the crown.
"Goodnight, babe."
Kairi gave them both a sunny smile and left, making her way down the winding dirt path that led to her home. Kaito was silent as she observed her son peeking out the window, watching Kairi until the other rickety houses hid her. She didn't speak as regret danced across his eyes, and a small sigh escaped his lips. He probably didn't even realize she'd noticed, or she would have called him on it. No, not until Riku dropped down onto the couch and looked up at his mother, blinking long and slow, curious as to why she was just standing there, did she say anything.
"Riku, you're still in love with her," she noted, in a soft voice. Riku felt his temper--he'd been so good at keeping it in before, but a recent rebellion with the darkness had shortened his fuse--flare up. He shoved himself off the couch, vertical now.
"I don't know what you mean."
He didn't tower over her, she was a tall woman to begin with, but he stared down with icy eyes. As he expected, Kaito seemed unaffected. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't play dumb, kid."
That was her semi-affectionate, 'I love you or I hate you or I want to throw a television at you' nickname for him.
Riku didn't move, but to say, "It's none of your business."
"Like hell it isn't. I've seen what that girl can do to you, Riku, and we both know that you have no chance in all of hell with her."
Riku bit his bottom lips, choosing a caustic reply rather than an emotional one. "Thanks, Mom. For your support." He pressed past her, but she grabbed his wrist. Riku didn't jerk away.
"You can't do this, Riku. She loves Sora. She always has, and everyone knows it. You're setting yourself up for disaster."
"I don't want to talk about this," he muttered. Kaito responded by tightening her grip. Riku hadn't noticed how strong she was, in grip, voice, and the will that played in her eyes.
"You have to. Don't you see--this isn't getting any better. Just tell me why you love her."
He simply stared at her.
"Tell me why you love her."
"Stop."
"Tell me why you love her."
"I said, stop." He grit his teeth.
"Tell me why--"
Riku wrenched himself from her grip, his shouts echoing through the small abode. "Because I do. And I gave everything for her, and every day I have to watch her look at Sora with this gleam in her eyes, like he drug himself through hell just to save her when that was really me. I did that. He screwed around while I was selling my soul just to get her to open her eyes, and she looks at me like I'm nothing." He was panting now, his diatribe a harsh hiss through the air. Now, Kaito was trembling. Words like sold his soul and drug himself through hell were making it hard to breathe. She reached up, wordless, and cupped his face in her hands, resting her cheek against his neck. Riku was stationary, still recovering as his spiked pulse was returning to normal.
"Do you know what I'd give for a chance for you to take all of that back?"
Riku didn't reply to her question, rhetorical, as it was. "Does wanting her even though I know it's wrong make me a horrible friend?"
Kaito shook her head. "It makes you zealous, and passionate, and loving, and damned, and more like me than you'd care to realize."
"There's just got to be some answer. Either I'll have her, or I'll stop loving her. But nothing's happening."
She stroked the back of his neck, like he was still a baby in his arms and she was coaxing him into sleep, where nothing could hurt him because he'd never known pain. How could she explain to him what it felt like to be alone, to watch what you loved slipping away from you, and having not the strength to pull it back? Should she even bring it up?
"There's nothing perfect about love, Riku. It sucks. If love was a good thing, a pure thing, then I'd have a living husband, and you could have your dream girl, and life wouldn't be so hard. But sometimes love is all about getting mad, and screaming, and hurting so bad that you can't bear the weight of it anymore. And I'm sorry that you have to go through all of that, but you must understand that nothing is going to change here. Sora and Kairi are in love. Real love, and it might not seem fair to you, but that's because it's not. Yes, you got the raw end of the deal, and I am so sorry for you, but you can't let this consume you. Because that's what it will do, Riku. You have to let her go."
"What if I don't want to?" he asked, gravely, even though one look into his eyes told Kaito that he did, he wanted to forget what it ever felt like to wish. She shushed him and drew him closer; he was stoic in her embrace, and she felt like screaming out. When did her son, the love of her life in ways, decide that letting her hold him didn't mean anything? Who did this to him, to make him so scarred?
She clutched tighter to his neck and rested her lips next to his ear, tenderly winding her fingers through his hair, and whispered, "What if Kairi wants you to?"
Listening to his silence, Kaito thought, I know you. I've known you since before anyone else could hope to, and I know exactly what to say, what words will bring what to your eyes. But a hug and a kiss wasn't enough, it hadn't been enough for years, to light him up. She had to work at it now, and it hurt, it hurt to know that she couldn't heal him, and together they stood, in one another's pain, in the feeling of not being good enough for someone else.
Riku pulled away from her, ignoring the moisture collecting in her eyes. Was she beginning to see what this had done to him? "Goodnight," he muttered, laying a hand on her shoulder as he passed by.
"You don't want to talk about it some more? Maybe I can help--"
"Goodnight, mom."
She watched her son climb solidly up the stairs, and she could see his seams popping, his bindings threatening to unwind, this suit of himself that he wore beginning to tear away. Thinking of that little boy who used to smirk lazily at her when she teased him, and then of the young man who wouldn't respond in her arms, Kaito began to tremble, terrified of what she'd find underneath when all was finally unraveled. She began to wonder if his demons were still locked inside, rattling at his rib cage, prodding inside his head. What would happen when they escaped? Who would she find this time, climbing out of her son's bed, stepping from her son's room?
Shakily, Kaito lowered herself onto the couch. She drudged up memories--a little baby boy, blinking thoughtfully at her as she to figure out how the hell to make a bottle; a little thing, asking whose picture it was beside her bed, and if it was his father; stubborn and wonderful, asking questions and demanding answers, even when she was too dumbfounded to answer, or to tired to speak. She raised him all alone, and she was so proud, three years ago, when he was turning into what every mother prayed for. I did that, she'd think, I did that all alone. Just me. I taught him how to be. All alone, I raised this child.
She watched the too-big, too-hollow body of what would have been her son, watched the devil dance across his tired eyes, watched him let go and fade, the stitches holding up his heart bursting again. Whether he was pining over the girl he couldn't have, or looking for the light he could find, she watched Riku, the Riku who couldn't find the part of him that was hers anymore, too far gone for her to save, and she sobbed. I did that, she wept, I did that all alone. Just me. I taught him how to be. All alone, I raised this child.
0-FIN-0
I have a mother complex, I'd swear to it. And I adore Kaito, more than any other character I've ever thought up. She's so fiercely broken, just like her son, and neither seem to see it. And everyone knows how much I dote on Riku. ^^
Heavily inspired by the song Sand and Water, using a lyric or two. I'd name it such if I didn't already have a chapter with the same name in mind for Remnants. It's one of the most powerful songs I have ever heard in my life, and it's perfect for this piece. Youtube it, mkay? Thank you, ER, for introducing me to it.