{ P A I R I N G } [ SORA . RIKU ]
It's the simple matter of growing up and how to master it...
4,588 words, PG-13
un-beta'd (kinda), overall - basically - unedited. : / Meh, good enough.
started: 10/8/08; 4:56p.m.
finished: 10/14/08; 5:34p.m.
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A/N: Um...warning? little boys + love = MY SECRET UNKNOWN FETISH?!
Apparently. -____-;
THIS FIC IS 100% RECYCLED. :D
.-.-.-.-.
Sora digs his toes into the dirt, fingers curling tightly around the twisted, course rope. A breeze gives a sigh and runs a soft touch through his hair, whispering of nothing and everything into his ear with a warm breath. It's night, a dark, humid, summer night, and the lull and sway of the trees draws a serene feeling over that particular moment in time.
He drags his foot back, pushing down with the other, and lets himself sink backwards into nothing, legs swinging upwards dangerously, and gravity does its job, pulling him down towards the unbroken surface of the lake. He lets his feet drag a little, tiny ripples glittering behind him, and feels himself floating above the water.
.-.-.-.-.
In summer, the song sings itself.
.-.-.-.-.
"Riku! Riku! There's a fireworks festival tomorrow night. I've never been to a fireworks festival before, but I've heard a lot about them, and momma says they're pretty, just like me." Seven year old Sora beams, slim, childish fingers tugging on Riku's wrist. "Come see them with me, Riku. Come with us tomorrow." Riku smiles fondly, forearm twisting so their grips are switched, his hand on top of Sora's, and draws a line down the underside of the younger boy's palm with his index finger.
"Can't," he says, still smiling that easy, crooked smile of his. "I've got to work at home now, Sora. I'm not a little boy anymore."
"Oh," Sora mumbles, breath catching in disappointment. "Okay."
He forgot. Riku is now nine years old. Two whole years, twenty-four whole months, older than Sora.
He isn't a kid anymore. And only stupid kids like fireworks festivals, apparently.
"Well, I didn't really want to go anyway. I mean, I thought it was a silly idea. I told momma it was, Riku! I told her. But…" his hand unwraps itself from Riku's. "But I thought it would be funner with Riku."
"Another time," Riku whispers, the somewhat secretive, mysterious voice hiding something, something he wasn't telling Sora. "Maybe later in the summer? When I don't have duties."
"Mm…" Sora nods soberly, mouth drawn into a pout. "Later."
His mom usually says that when she doesn't want to outright tell him no. But he knows better; later means the same thing.
.-.-.-.-.
I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.
.-.-.-.-.
The tire spins lazily, digging into the back of Sora's thigh, and he almost smiles at the tiny thrill that swinging out over the pristine lake still gives him – will always give him. The sun begins to set, dipping down just below the trees, and the water's face alites with a strange, orange, ethereal glow. The dock stretches along a few feet to his left, seemingly running with him as he drifts back and forth over the water and shore.
He thinks of last summer, when Riku had run along with him also, run along the top of the dock, chasing something he knew he could probably never catch, while Sora threw his head back and laughed, hair flipping and tangling in the soft summer air. And he remembers the happiness, the silliness. He remembers it all.
But that was last summer. And he is fourteen now, fourteen and in high school, and running after tire swings is completely junior high and childish, something a high-schooler like Sora would never do.
The thought that maybe it's not so much age, but company and who's in his, crosses his mind, but he lets it fly back with his hair, forgetting it a moment later.
The tire swing curves and turns back towards the shore, Sora's hair sticking to his lips.
.-.-.-.-.
There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want.
.-.-.-.-.
A burst of light blooms in the sky, sparks lighting up the large, crowded park below and fading away into a breath of smoke as the night slowly sets into a state of complete silence, broken only by the heart-thundering explosions and light-hearted chatting. Sora watches in amazement with his hand fisted into the sleeve of his mother's yukata, his own yukata folded neatly underneath his knees, just as his mother had told him to do when he sat down, and it's not until he feels a tiny tug on his obi that he pulls his gaze away from the foggy sky.
"Riku," he whispers in surprise, heart fluttering a bit as Riku presses a palm to his cheek, hushing him with a finger to the lips. "Riku, you're here!"
"Shh," he hisses. "Come on, come on! I want to show you something."
"Riku," Sora says quietly. "Riku, did you sneak out? Did you run away?"
"No, you idiot," Riku giggles, fingers tangling with Sora's as he pulls the smaller boy away from his family, idly chatting and completely unaware of the two leaving, and towards the secluded woods at the back of the park. "I was never busy in the first place."
"Then..." Sora is confused, baffled at his friend's strange behavior. "Then why..."
"I wanted to surprise you."
They walk the long, narrow hidden path worn down into the dirt of the forest floor in silence, anxiousness tugging at both of their hearts and minds. The trees begin to thin out and soon they've reached the edge of a clearing, moonlight highlighting the dips and curves of the ground in front of them. Riku pauses for a brief moment, breathing softly while looking up toward the top of the hill, before squeezing Sora's hand lightly and urging the younger up the hillside beside him.
The grass is soft and slightly itchy on their ankles as they sit side by side at the top, Sora's head leaning into the crook of Riku's neck.
"I'm happy," Sora sighs, fingers curling into the soft material of Riku's t-shirt, and the innocence of his life shines through in this simple gesture. Riku lowers his eyelashes demurely, leaning into the other's hand, and he finds it odd when his skin prickles underneath the gentle touch.
"Ne, Sora..." A firework flashes brightly in the distance and, briefly, Riku worries that Sora's parents might get mad at him later, but as the smaller boy's slow, humid breath skims his neckline, he forgets it nearly immediately. "Sora..."
Sora smiles and turns towards Riku. "Yeah?"
The initial press of lips is hesitant, barely there, like the soft, sweet kiss of the wind on a summer morning, and Sora removes his hand from Riku's shirt to bring two fingers up to touch where Riku's own lips had just touched.
They feel the same, warm and fleshy, slightly chapped from the wind, but altogether no different than they had felt before. But something is different, something is off, because Sora doesn't think his heart is supposed to be beating like that unless he's just been out playing, face red from something other than exertion.
"Riku." The name trips over his lips unsteadily, his childish confusion written all over his face. "What...what was that?"
"A kiss," Riku whispers, because now talking any louder would be like shattering glass in an opera hall.
"What's a kiss?" Sora muses, hand dropping to his lap.
"Well, I think that was," Riku answers with his wonderful, brilliant, two years' superior knowledge.
"But...what is it for?"
Riku shrugs, shifting his weight onto his elbows as he leans back in the grass. "I don't know. Momma said that, one day, when I'm older, I'll like to kiss pretty girls and take them home to be my brides. But I don't like girls, and you're much prettier than they'll ever be, Sora. So...maybe...I thought I might like kissing you."
Sora giggles at the idea because he knows that boys being with other boys is silly and weird, and Riku is just being a goof. "You're funny, Riku," he sputters. "Kissing is for girls and boys, not us."
"I don't care," Riku sits up indignantly. "If I like kissing Sora better, then I'm breaking the rules."
"Riku's being childish," Sora taunts, stifling a giggle into his palm.
"No, I'm not." Sora lowers his hand and stops laughing because Riku is two years older than him. He knows better than Sora the unwritten rules of life. "You'll see, Sora. One day, you'll be my bride. And then I'll get to kiss you anytime I want."
"You're funny," Sora repeats, only this time he doesn't laugh. His eyes are sparkling at the idea. "Do you think I'd have to wear one of those girl dresses?"
"Well, if you're going to be my bride, I'd think so," Riku says matter-of-factly. "And we'd have pretty rings that'd shine in the sunlight, and we'd live in a home with a dog named Tinny."
"A Papillion," Sora adds in excitedly, showing off the little bit of knowledge he'd gained from the months that he'd dabbled into his dog obsession at age five.
"A Papillion," Riku copies.
The hill is suddenly lit with vibrant, flashing colors, the sky stained with a permanent fog of vast shades of red and blue and yellow.
The firework finale echoes into the night, marking it with some unsaid finality in the books of their youth.
The summer of the end of the beginning.
.-.-.-.-.
There there baby, it's just text book stuff. It's in the ABC of growing up.
.-.-.-.-.
A brush of cold sweeps through the air, pushing unyieldingly at Sora's back, and sends chills down his spine. The night has grown cold in a short amount of time - fickle, his mother would say; summer is fickle - and the lake suddenly looks icy underneath the darkening night sky. The stars are beginning to tear through the navy-blue blanket and even the moon's reflection shivers in the water as the ripples dance under the waning light.
The tire swing has long since come to a stop, hovering a short distance out over the lake, and Sora makes no move to try and get back to shore. He folds his arms around the top of the tire, resting his head in the crook of his elbow, and just breaths.
Sometimes he misses the days of junior high. Of tire swing chasing and mud fights and awkwardness and the beauty of such simple, harmless things.
But mostly, he just misses doing all of it with Riku.
.-.-.-.-.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
.-.-.-.-.
Their kisses become a frequent thing - when they meet up to play, before they must leave for bed, when chatting by the lakeside, on the cheek, on the forehead, on the eyelids, on the palms of their hands - and they no longer question whether it is right or wrong; it simply has just become normal, a part of their everyday life.
When Sora kisses, it's soft, gentle, tender, and slow, like he's got all of the time in the world. He doesn't use anything but his lips and more than often presses a shy kiss to Riku's cheek, full of unsolved questions and hidden answers. Riku likes it best when he kisses him on the neck, however; says he can feel every crease and crack in Sora's lips and Sora blushes every time he does it.
When Riku kisses, though, it's like summer; hot and lazy and full of something that Sora can't quite put his finger on. He likes to thread his hands into Sora's silk-like hair, pressing their mouths together slowly but surely, before increasing pressure, building a momentum of some sort as time progresses.
It soon becomes their lifeline - sneaking kisses everywhere they can - and Sora doesn't know what he'd do without them.
When Sora reaches age ten, however, he begins to suspect that perhaps things are not as normal as he had once thought.
It happens when they are swinging at the park, legs kicking out beneath them as they push back and forth.
"Hey Riku, let's jump! Let's jump!" Sora giggles excitedly. "See who can get the farthest!"
Riku agrees and they both begin their wind up before leaping from the chain-link swings.
They land in a heap of limbs, legs awkwardly pressed into each other, arms tangled, and they laugh happily, Sora chuckling into Riku's neck. Their eyes meet momentarily and something in Riku's character changes, a seriousness like Sora has never seen before taking over his features.
The kiss this time is, like the look Riku had worn not a few seconds earlier, new and strange to Sora, powerful and controlling, like Riku wants nothing more than to melt and mold into the younger boy. Sora pushes back with just as much strength, however, determined to keep up with his friend, and he's momentarily startled when he hears a small whining noise coming from Riku. He pulls away panting and stares up at the elder, eyes full of something akin to confusion, and all Riku can do is look back in embarrassment, cheeks flushed red.
"Sora..."
"Let's go home," he says quickly, not wanting to listen to Riku's heavy, lustful breathing any longer. "I'm getting hungry and, um... I just... I think I'm tired out for the day."
"Okay," Riku says quietly, shame flooding his eyes.
They walk in silence most of the way, though their thoughts are anything but, and the few feet between them seems like a mile, a distance full of something intangible, invisible. They turn into Sora's driveway, an overwhelming sense of awkwardness in the air and a falter in their steps. Sora begins to walk ahead, leaving Riku at the edge of the sidewalk, while the older boy hesitantly watches his back.
"Look, Sora-"
"Goodbye, Riku," Sora says abruptly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
.-.-.-.-.
The trick is growing up without growing old.
.-.-.-.-.
A fishing boat drifts by, rocking gently with the occasional waves on the glassy surface, and the man in the metal boat waves lightly to Sora, careful not to upset his rod placement. Sora waves back, smiling pleasantly, before deciding that maybe, soon, he'd like to go back home.
It's getting cold and, for some strange, aching reason, the night seems to be growing lonely.
.-.-.-.-.
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
.-.-.-.-.
The first 'real' kiss Sora receives is in 6th grade, age eleven.
He had received a letter in his shoe box the previous morning, one that had said in short, simple sentences the words of a confession. It had been anonymous, though, and the mystery of it all had snagged Sora's attention.
He'd run back that night, blowing right past his house and over to the neighboring block, and pounded on Riku's door impatiently.
"It's a confession," Riku explained, mind in somewhat of a daze.
"A confession?" Sora had marveled. "Cool! I've never been confessed to before."
Riku made a sour face and, though subtle, Sora almost had to do a double take upon catching it.
"I know," Riku says, lazy, friendly smile back in place - a change that had happened so quick, Sora nearly questioned whether or not he had been imagining things. "So this is good, right? You might get a girlfriend now."
"A girlfriend?" Sora says quietly. "Yeah, sure... A girlfriend."
He meets with her the following morning, as had been requested in the letter, and asks Riku to wait for him inside the gate.
He's nervous.
"I like you," she says with her eyes cast downwards. Her dark, wispy curls bounce slightly as a breeze whistles by.
Not anything like Riku's hair, he thinks distractedly. Nothing like his at all.
"Ah, well, thank you. I'm surely not worthy of, um, such a pretty girl like you." He doesn't know what he's saying and he feels like an idiot, but he plows on knowing that just a few feet away is Riku, waiting for him just inside the school walls. "But I'm afraid that I can't give you an answer. I honestly don't know how I feel and, well, it would be unfair to you if...if..." His voice dies on his tongue.
"Sora-san is very sweet, just as they say," the girl smiles sadly. Her eyes finally catch his and he's taken aback at how very blue and pretty they are; like the lake behind his house when the sun is at the top of the sky.
"I'm sorry!" Sora mumbles, bowing deeply to her.
"Is there someone else that you like? Someone special?" She looks a little lost, a little hurt, and Sora almost debates lying to her for a second.
He answers honestly, "I'm afraid that I can't tell you that either. I'm very sorry! So very sorry!" He deepens his bow.
Before they part, the girls tugs his arm at the crook of his elbow, eyes pleading and apologetic. And before Sora can ask what's wrong, she leans up and presses her lips to his, soft but demanding.
Not anything like Riku's kisses, he thinks. Nothing like them at all.
"Riku!" He hisses, heart still pounding from the previous event, and immediately stills when he doesn't see his friend there or anywhere near the school gate. "M...Riku?"
Sora falls into step along side Riku on their way home from school, eyes glued to the ground, uncertain.
"Where were you this morning?" His heart aches - just a little - as Riku shrugs.
"I forgot."
"Oh," Sora says, pace slowing a bit. "Oh."
.-.-.-.-.
Tears are the summer showers to the soul.
.-.-.-.-.
Sora climbs his way back up the hill, pushing his palms to his knees as the steepness increases farther up. He can hear his puppy barking and whining behind the old oak door, scratching at the wood, and he thinks he should probably let it go outside for a little bit.
The only light visible in his house is the porch light, most probably kept on by his mother's request, and it helps him find his way to his doorsteps, old, cracked wood worn from the constant batter and abuse of weather and lack of re-polishes. The boards creak as if in exhaustion as he ascends them and his fingers still over the door handle. It's cold and metallic under his fingers, urging him to quickly open it and get inside where it's still warm, but his feet refuse to move, stuck in some inexplicable hold of the conscious or something remotely similar.
Before he can second guess himself, he's flying back down the stairs, feet thudding against the pavement underneath him as he runs long and hard.
It's been a long time since he's traveled this direction and his footsteps falter at the street corner, but gut instinct guides him to where his heart is telling him go, where it's been telling him to go for months.
It's been a long time coming, but, as is repeated throughout your childhood years and into adulthood, it's always better late than never.
.-.-.-.-.
There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.
.-.-.-.-.
"You're going to be in high school next year, aren't you Riku?"
"I guess..." Riku shrugs, pushing at Sora's back. The tire swing lurches forward, Sora's legs dangling just above the water's surface - but not far enough to touch - and the pressing atmosphere sits heavily on both of their shoulders.
Sora purses his lips, leaning into the black rubber as it swerves and swings back towards shore, and thinks about what school will be like for the next year, how much he'll be missing without Riku around. Lunch time won't be the same and certainly walking home will change, filled with the emptiness of silence.
"Do you think you'll make new friends, Riku?" Sora whispers.
"Of course I will." Riku pauses, laughing slightly as he once again propels Sora forward. "At least I hope so."
"Oh..." Sora sighs.
"Aw, come on Sora, it's not like I'm your only friend either." Sora shrugs, a small movement from a few yards out over the lake where the tire swing has pivoted, and Riku snorts. "I'll miss you too, you know."
"I know."
Riku gives another push. "I'll miss you every day that you're not there."
Sora raises his eyes to peer out under his bangs at Riku.
"I'll miss you at lunch when I can't eat your food, and during gym when I won't be able to look up and see your classroom from the soccer field, and when I'm walking home and you're not there to keep me company." Sora's heartbeats echo in his ears. "I'll miss you very, very much."
"You're so cheesy," Sora blushes prettily, hiding in the crook of his elbow. "But I'll miss you, too."
They stay like that for a while, Riku lazily pushing Sora in the swing while the younger hums a light tune, and Riku can't help but stare distractedly at the way Sora's long, dark eyelashes flutter against his cheek when he blinks. He feels the telltale flurry of butterflies in the pit of his stomach again and his insides twist when Sora yawns like a cat, stretching leisurely on the tire swing, before throwing a sly smile over his shoulder at Riku.
"Actually...there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while, Sora."
"Oh?" he sighs, completely relaxed.
"Um, well..." Sora only takes notice of the subtle hints of nervousness is his friend when he nearly hits him in the stomach by the tire when it swings back towards shore.
"What?" Sora asks, suddenly alert. "What is it?"
"I think I'm in love with you."
This time when the tire swing comes around, Riku misses it on purpose.
Sora sits paralyzed, hands gripping the rope tightly, and doesn't dare open his mouth. He doesn't know what just happened, and, in all honesty, he doesn't really want to even think about it, but he knows that it was most probably very difficult for Riku to say and maybe he should really say something, make sure he doesn't get the wrong idea.
But he doesn't know what idea he wants him to get. He doesn't like him, not like that at least, and...
"Um..." His voice is shaky, scared. "I-I...Riku. You- I mean..." Perhaps he shouldn't have spoken at all.
"It's okay, Sora," the younger boy flinches at the deep hurt lacing his words. "You don't have to force yourself. It's not like I didn't know what I was getting into before."
Sora shakes his head, thinks 'you're wrong', but his throat seems to be blocked by something aching and heavy, something that he just can't get rid of, and he watches in horror as Riku's face drops.
"I think I better go now," he says, and Sora is reminded of the last time he and Riku had kissed, in the park, and how he had treated him afterward, saying such harsh things and closing the door before he had given the other time to explain. But at the time, he hadn't known what he was supposed to do; he was lost.
"Goodbye, Sora. I'll talk to you later."
School starts in a month. They don't talk for the rest of summer. And then soccer starts for Riku and Sora's got to start studying for exams or else his mother won't let him get that new bike he wants so badly and life just seems to fade away.
Months pass, Sora turns fourteen, and they nearly forget how much had happened, how much they'd left behind.
.-.-.-.-.
A life without love is like a year without summer.
.-.-.-.-.
"Sora." The nickname is automatic.
Riku stands in the doorway of his house, hand still gripping the handle, and suddenly he finds his heart in his throat. It's like he's fifteen again, like the time of the summer that, for some reason unknown, seems so very long ago, and he swallows in an attempt to keep the nostalgia at bay.
Sora smiles up at him with a maturity that he'd never seen before in his oh-so innocent features and it's like they'd never been apart, like he'd never spent the last year dreaming about the other, wishing he was near. Because it's real. He's not a dream; he is here.
Riku barely registers that the other boy is speaking until he feels a light touch at the underside of his palm.
"Hello Riku." Riku's heart warms at the familiar nickname, not used in so long; he never knew how much he'd really missed it. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a swim, ne? For old time's sake?"
The night seems to veil them in a thin sheet of security and secretiveness, laying their worries and questions to rest while they play and splash and chase each other in the water, feeling again like the children they had once been.
Riku is just about to deem this the best night of his life when he feels two tiny arms slip around the curve of his waist, bringing his back flush against a warm, solid chest. The skin on skin contact makes his face burn and nerves tingle, but he makes no move to get away, leaning into the steady rise and fall of the young boy behind him. Nimble fingers massage the tender skin just above the waistline of his swim shorts, soft fingertips soothing the cold away with gentle caresses, and he tries not to hope too hard or wish too much; it's never really done him any good with Sora. But he can't withhold the shiver in his movements nor tremble in his heart as Sora slides his lips over Riku's neck, lightly kissing at the hairline just around his ears. It seems as if he's gotten more knowledgeable in the art of kissing and Riku slightly worries that perhaps he's forgotten or been left behind in the years of his absence in physical contact with other people; the only person he's ever kissed, after all, or had the desire to kiss is the boy dipping a tongue into the junction where his neck and shoulder meet, eliciting a soft moan from the elder.
"Riku," Sora murmers, sighing hotly into the space just between Riku's shoulder blades. "Riku, Riku, Riku..." His voice shakes slightly and Riku can feel cool droplets of water sliding over his skin from the soft brush of the other's hair, the feverish press of Sora's forehead on his back. "I've been such a bad person, Riku. My heart...it hurts. I'm so sorry for everything; I wish I could simply take it all back. I just... You have no idea how much I've missed you."
Riku turns in the tightening embrace and nuzzles at the soft mess of hair with his nose, taking up his turn to massage the other, comforting him in any way possible. A small, lazy smile, one that Sora had unknowingly ached over for months, unfurls on Riku's lips, lightening the night in a way that Sora thinks will never be re-doable. "I heard you got a dog, Sora."
"A Papillion," the smaller replies, grip loosening on Riku's back.
"And I was kind of curious, but... what did you name it?"
"Tinny," Sora says slowly, face tipping upward to peer at Riku. "I named her Tinny."
It's almost as if the sky is once again alite with the vibrant colors of the fireworks, splashing the earth in a bright aray of colors, as two boys hold hands gently over the view of an entire city below them.
"Welcome back, Sora," Riku chuckles, leaning down to kiss the edge of Sora's jaw.
"I'm home, Riku." is all that he replies. "I'm home."
.-.-.-.-.
If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.
.-.-.-.-.
A/N: In case any of you don't know - though I'm guessing most of you do as you guys are smart :) - the Japanese have the custom of announcing 'I'm home!' (Tadaima) or 'I'm leaving!' (Ittekimasu) when arriving or leaving home to which one usually responds 'see you later!' (Itterasshai) or 'welcome home!' (Okaeri). Hence the ending lines by Sora and Riku.
.-.-.-.-.