piety
disclaimer: obviously not mine.
She is stardust trapped in a bottle, dancing in layers of water and salt. She is his laughter and his voice and his reason to be. She makes him smile and stutter and stumble and blush. She pulls funny faces at him while giggling, and creating a million different fairies into the world. She calls him names that make him goofy and shrug off.
She holds his hand and clings to his arm, and they tingle for eternity and a day after she lets go, chasing Riku like she's chasing butterflies.
Except Riku stops, slowing down and succumbing to her call, watching her through an angled shoulder, his hair fluttering in the air, as he waits for her to catch up and join him with Sora not too far behind. A smile graces his face, barely visible through tufts of silky hair.
And Kairi jumps on him, her arms circling his neck as she buries her head in his shoulder.
He can't help but think that they look like a pretty couple, enchanted by moonbeams and sunrays, and with a faded grin on his face, he walks with a slower pace, watching their shadows become one, closer and closer until it only seems like one person is there – because Kairi has actually convinced Riku to give her a piggyback and begins to play with his hair, with her arms looped around him.
They wait for him, of course they do, by the paopu tree that all their thoughts drifted and merged into colours of the sunset.
"Hey," Riku says, leaning back, "we were waiting for you – what took so long?"
Sora lets a grin, easy going and relaxed, slide onto his familiar face. "Nothing."
His companion frowns, but lets it go.
"At least you didn't miss the sunset." Kairi cheerfully reminds them, swinging her legs back and forth, a dimple in her fair cheeks.
"Yeah."
That has to count for something, right?
They talk of fantasy and gaps of blue and memories that never happened and the could bes and future dreams, woven together by their connected hearts. They'll always be together, even when they're apart.
Won't they?
And Sora smiles, his usually bright grin that reveals sparkling and shiny teeth, and while it lingers for a while, it fades as the clouds turn from red to black…
He dreams of Donald and Goofy, of the King Mickey and Yen Sid, of Ansem and Xemnas.
He dreams of the letters that were sent to him, dreams about the possibility of what ifs and maybes.
He dreams of thunderstorms and lightning bolts, of Heartless and Nobodies.
He never dreams of the day he'll leave again, though he knows it'll come one day.
Wakka, Tidus and Selphie can never beat them – Riku's form too graceful, Sora's form too energetic and ready for the unpredictable. Oh they can try, which they do with sunshine and smiles, flails and wooden swords and blitz balls, but they can never win.
The land and the sky are so different in fighting forms, but they still can't beat them. Eventually, they realize this with disheartened spirits, before continuing to spar with more vigour.
Who cares if those three, naïve people who will eternally be their friends, cannot defeat them if it's the only way that they can be intimately close to each other in this way?
Selphie will continue to be a romantic; Tidus forever a ray of light, shining forth with his energetic smile and Wakka… an idiot, his head always following the ball.
Life goes on, with or without them.
With or without life, they go on.
Riku watches him from the corner of his eye, suspecting, but never guessing… the words dancing on his tongue, nearly spilling forth like the waterfall that bustles in the background, a merry sound for all to hear, a soothing sound for those who wait.
"Hey," he says, the words rolling off his tongue easily. "Where were you?"
A simple shrug, a simple smile, the sparkle still glistening in his blue eyes; Sora washes away the nagging feeling as he feels the sun on his skin, basking in the warmth. With his happy-go-lucky attitude, the doubt is erased, the feeling lingering only as the soft waves reach for his feet.
"Nowhere, really."
"C'mon, Kairi's waiting."
They walk, but something's amiss. The boy of land is soft and trembling, unused to the weight that the boy of the sky carries, noticing that they've fallen out of synch.
But they say nothing, their gazes captured by the girl of the sea, who waves at them with a smile on her face and a paopu in her hand.
Subjects falter later that day, mocking them in the corner of their eye and recess of their throats.
There is a storm one day, powerful and torrential. Sora watches from his window, blue eyes blazing, ready to leap into action the minute he sees yellow eyes glitter across that valley of darkness.
If he's saved the world once, he can do it again—
And again—
And again—
And the rain continues to fall, roaring into the violent sea, clashing with the rocks that are slowly but surely disintegrating, crumbling from the angry waves, growing in strength as the moon once more is seen from wispy clouds.
But there is no sign of Heartless and when he tries, the Keyblade flickers in his hands, translucent as he weakly tries to grip in his two hands.
The next day, floating on the shore, washed up with wreckage and watery graves is a letter engraved in gold, twirled up in a silver bottle. Sora notices it immediately, blue eyes glowing like the sun, picking it up and watching the light glitter off the trapped light.
He can sense Kairi in front of him, can feel Riku behind him. He remembers the letter that was given to them before, tucked in Kairi's drawer, along with thimbles to capture fairies and shadows that belonged to boys who never grew up.
The glass seems so breakable in his hands.
He throws it into the sea, the letter with it.
("Be selfish once in a while.")
And his smile does not betray him. Not yet. Not while Kairi wraps her hands against his arm, tugging him forward, and Riku ruffles his hair.
"Who'd you write that letter to?"
His reply is almost instantaneous, forming far too effortlessly.
"No one, really."
(I need more time.)
He doesn't do much these days.
He stares out of windows, watching the stars to such an extent that eventually Kairi and Riku join him, becoming nocturnal creatures, whose skins have bleached white, spectres of the darkness.
They share a blanket and when they're close together, he forgets that his days are numbered.
The stars blink in and out of existence, and the lies of omission still do not guilt him, lest he falls asleep.
Flicker. Flicker. Flicker.
Gold – blue – golden blue.
What is the colour of his eyes?
Laughter trickles down his ears, and Kairi's tugging him and leading him into the kitchen. Down, down, down the rabbit hole he falls and he's having tea, dressed in a hat that makes no sense. With each cup he drinks, he swings his hand as he eradicates another Heartless, another Nobody. Kairi sits on the table, twirling her rabbit ears, her knees jiggling up and down as she watches him with a slightly crooked smile on his face.
And King Mickey comes, white not black – black not white.
"You're late! You're late! You're late!"
What colour are his eyes?
He glances at his tea cup, swallowed into the brown liquid, swirling into salty blue. He can not fly – this is not the world for flying – but he's tearing the clouds apart, trying to find his wings and hold onto his hat as Kairi pours more tea, down, down, down into the tea cup, smothering him black.
Sea shanties are hummed into his ear as he meets the girl who longs to live as a human, who longs to live as a mermaid. She cannot choose between her love and her family as she struggles to remember to breathe. But she loses her voice as she sings in bubbles.
And it must be the light as long locks of blood red hair, cherry and strawberry blossoms, swirl in ephemeral patterns, but Ariel looks just like Kairi, her wide eyes the exception.
But when she holds him, he feels isolated and pulled into deeper currents. His smile cracks as sea shells tangle themselves in his hair and embed in his skin.
His blood is the colour of Kairi's pretty, pretty—
When he wakes, the Keyblade is already in his hand, hard and cold and covered in sweat.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
His eyes flicker as the sun marks his skin through the strips of curtains that allow it to peek through.
But he still can't remember the colour of his golden blue eyes.
He turns the hourglass, watching it slowly pour from one end to the other, slowly cascading into a bittersweet symphony.
He stops it midway, refusing to watch the dust settle.
Dusk slowly forms, a plethora of blues and reds and purples, streaked with silver and green and yellow. If he looks closely, he can see a slinky black shadow, but he turns away.
It must be a trick of the light.
For Donald and Goofy are with the King; and they are far away from him.
"Sora," A voice calls his attention, soft and sweet like honey trickling onto a flower petal, refreshing as dew clings to plants as morning rises once more, anew with hope of a new day. "Sora, are you okay?"
"Huh?" He blinks, obvious to her worry as he is captured by the sweetness of her smile and the softness of her skin. She is warm and he is so cold against the breeze of the taste of her tears. "You alright, Kairi?"
She pokes his shoulder, red lips slightly pouting as her black lashes flutter together like a butterfly soaring into the sky. Amethyst shines through the velvet black material of the creature, visible through the sun's scar. "That's what I should be asking you, lazy bum."
"Me? I'm fine." He offers a smile, with a slightly plastic sheen added to it.
Kairi, who is made of fire and wicker wood, narrows her eyes as she closes the distance between them. "Oh yeah?"
"Y-yeah," he stutters, as he feels her breath on his skin.
"Then tell that to Riku." Playful, she shoves him off the tree and he sinks like a pebble into the sea, never to surface. Yet he does, laughter choked on bubbles.
When she holds out her hand, his grasp of her is slippery and he nearly lets go.
His eyes are blue.
Blue like the ocean, blue like—
"Don't change. Don't ever change." The sea whispers as he floats in memories and melodies.
The sun twists and turns, unseen through the rift between them. The sky is blank today, unmerciful as the heat glares upon him.
He closes his eyes once more.
Oh Kairi, Kairi, I'm so sorry.
I already have.
He avoids mirrors nowadays, especially at night.
In daylight, where the sun shines its frosty glow, glaring like it has seared through ice, there is Roxas who stops and stares, like a puppet who follows his every command, his every moment. He does not talk, his eyes like shards of glass, tainted blue by the fire that cannot reach him, freezing in his artic state of mind. He murmurs things, sweet nothings at night, when Sora is sure that nobody's talking.
It must be a dream.
But when he wakes up in the dead of the night and the moon spills from the swirling aquamarine sea, he glimpses his reflection and catches sight of—
His skin is not black, he convinces himself as he scrubs his pink flesh raw red the following morning in the shower.
And his eyes are not gold.
(This is a mantra, he chants to himself, and he does not want to taste blood, even if Kairi cuts her thumb accidentally by a paper cut.)
He finds the Royal bottle, and angrily chucks it away.
(More time, please.)
("How much more time can you take?")
Blink. Flicker. Cackle.
It's a pattern that he's trying to escape.
He knocks down all the hourglasses that he sees.
Someone grabs his shoulder as it's hard to resist the urge to punch and snarl at his opponent.
"Whoa. Are you really okay?" Riku lifts an eyebrow, hands half-raised in the sign of peace, voice sardonic.
"Oh… it's just you, Riku." Sora sighs, relaxing instantly.
"Just me? Am I no longer important to you, or are you asking for a fight?" The silver haired boy asks, aquamarine eyes narrow, darkening as Sora's white teeth gleam in darkness and blood. His head tilts, scrutinizing his best friend. But solid like the earth, he keeps his secrets and suspicions planted in the ground, not waiting to unearth them and let them bloom into seeds of doubt.
"Why not?" Eager at the chance to test out his skills, the Keyblade glimmers easily into his skills. "I could use the workout."
Like an angel unfurling its wings, The Way To Dawn, soon pursues the desire to fly and catch the stars.
Kairi arrives there last, still in uniform, wondering why nobody turned up. Lifting her hand to protect her eyes from the sun, she glimpses two shadow silhouettes who dance a dance in synchronization, movement graceful yet spontaneous, rhythmic yet unpredictable.
Selphie, Tidus and Wakka watch in the sidelines, eyes wide with awe.
It's been a long time since they've fought, and never with weapons like those. What happened to those wooden swords that promised fantasies beyond the imagination, so different compared to reality's double edged knife?
He swipes, he leers, and he swings with just a dash of instability. Against the sun, blue burns gold. Soft spikes overshadow as limber arms twist in odd shapes.
He parries, he counters, and he tangos to his own beat, gentlemanlike in nature. In the shade, aquamarine irises darken to the colour of the dark. Silver locks glisten, clouds threaten to rain.
They are beautiful fighters. Yet, that is not enough.
Eyes widening, he strikes the final blow.
And with heartbreak in her eyes, she runs towards them, catching Riku's fall, odd curiosity in her eyes. Her mouth parts, but no words are formed.
Sora flinches, curling his hand into fists.
In the dark, he cackles, whispers haunting lies. He toys and breaks broken bones into tiny shards, fangs cheekily sticking out.
And The Way To Dawn has paved The Way To Death.
Shaking, he feels his nails turn into black talons, tearing out pink skin.
He wakes up with his hands bleeding.
He sits by the shore, watching the sea move back and forth.
Slowly, he walks forward, the hot salty liquid searing.
He can last about half a minute before learning to breathe again—
Where is the mermaid, her long hair flowing enchanting melodies, when he needs her?
The fish refuse to talk to him, shimmying as he tries to talk to them, bubbles escaping his mouth and hitting his nose as they reach for air.
Choke. Gasp. Push.
Drown.
He can watch as the silent spectator, opening and closing his mouth, like the goldfish gabbling useless nothingness; when he shakes his tail feathers, his mermaid tail, his long legs, and the gaping shoals migrate as if he contains the plague.
When he glimpses that flash of red on the surface, he takes another breath and tries to find the red flash under the water.
He shatters the next hourglass he sees, destroyed into a million shards by the Keyblade.
"Hey," Kairi says, leaning on his chest, adoring eyes on him.
"Hey…" He whispers, cheeks suddenly hot.
But there's something very wrong with this picture as the cold detached feeling of darkness slides up his legs and his hand, so comfortably and excitably placed on her waist, is wet.
He can taste blood on his lips; blood that tastes like strawberry sweetness.
The same sweetness that drips through the gaps of his fingers, ones that make the inner darkness licks their lips, and smacks them hard and resounding in Sora's ear.
And she is cold, so very cold, her life slowly fading away.
Jerking awake, he stumbles to the window. He sees his strawberry redhead, alive, alive, alive, sitting on the docks, swinging her legs back and forth, gazing out the horizon. She turns her head, and he nearly expects that she's waiting for him. But she doesn't know that he's watching her, his blue eyes enraptured by her.
And her hand reaches for bleached silver, a prince from a different fairytale.
Tell me, what does the sky mean?
What does Sora mean?
If Sora is the sky, then what do they both equal?
He swims, inhaling the salty liquid far too often. His feet languidly kick, and he almost swims as well as he did in Atlantica.
But here he has no courage to sing; here nobody would listen.
"What's wrong?" Riku says, soft and silent like the breeze that lifts his hair.
"Nothing." It's the answer that he's thrown at them so many times, his castaway lies.
Riku snorts, glancing at him. "Liar. You really think we don't know you?"
"What? No, of course not!"
"Whatever floats your boat, have you found that letter yet?" More air is released. "Bloody… give me a break. You really think that we don't notice these things? We're your friends."
… the sunsets, the talks, the laughter, the golden moments.
They have to count for something, right?
And the words die on the sky's lips.
"You're restless."
A humourless laugh. "So were you."
"I'm different now."
"So am I."
"…"
"What now?"
"You wait. And let it come to you."
"What?"
"Whatever it is that you're waiting for."
All three sit on the pier, waiting for something that's never going to happen.
(But one of them knows it will.)
Breathe. Breathe.
The voices, the inhumane shrieks and cackles die down.
But blood slides onto his lips, and without a second thought he licks his lips.
He's acquiring the taste for adventure again.
It must have started with his embrace.
But they still don't know how it happened.
He dreams of Donald and Goofy, of the King Mickey and Yen Sid, of Ansem and Xemnas.
He dreams of the letters that were sent to him, dreams about the possibility of what ifs and maybes.
He dreams of thunderstorms and lightning bolts, of Heartless and Nobodies.
He dreams of the day he'll leave again and he knows it'll come one day.
He's staring at the chalk paintings, so messily made back then, in the Secret Cave. His eyes are accustomed to the dark, and his skin is almost paper white, not nearly the colour of dead men who have been lured into the salty depths of the sea.
And Kairi comes, her footsteps slow and gentle, like the plodding of a runaway, a creature who dresses herself up in mysteries and melancholy. She may not be a mermaid, but she's a princess, weaving a story and a tale like a drop of the ocean spilling from her lips.
He stands, wide blue eyes noticing her in a new light, suddenly aware of everything in a heartbeat.
But somehow, she doesn't seem to notice, closing the distance, an easygoing smile tickling the corner of her lips.
"I've been looking for you! Is this where you've been all this time?" If he brushes his finger on her cheek, he could feel the dimple on her cheek.
Somehow, she's too close and the breathing distance is restricted. His cheeks burn and suddenly his arms are around her, breathing in the strawberry shampoo fragranced so pleasantly in her hair.
"Wha—Sora!" She struggles, and he can sense the blush that rises on her cheeks. "What are you doing?"
His arms are wrapped around her, on her waist, on her hips, on her shoulder and she's so soft, warm and alive, unlike those dreams.
"Don't change. Don't ever change." Kairi whispers as he floats in memories and melodies.
The wind twists and turns, unseen through the rift between them. The air is hot and cold and she fits perfectly in his arms.
He closes his eyes once more.
Oh Kairi, Kairi, I'm so sorry.
I already have.
And he kisses her.
He kisses her, tasting her cherry flavoured lips.
And maybe he's intoxicated by the moment, maybe he's been oblivious to it all this time, but—
But it doesn't stop there.
He impedes all her arguments with another kiss, silencing the thoughts in his head.
His hand brushes against stardust and starfish.
They call him Aeneas. (They call him Sora).
They call him a hero. (They call him a wayward boy, intent on justice).
But… he's not either of them, is he?
He's just a boy who's heart is a vagabond.
When he flips the hourglass upside down, he watches it until the very end.
The cackles and glints in the dark disappear. And the gold eventually fades to blue.
But Roxas is still as silent as the grave that he rests in.
He finally finds Riku, who watches Kairi from afar, lassitude written on his face, within the twinkle of his eye.
"Still haven't settled down, have you?"
"…"
"Even after…"
But when Riku turns, to face Sora after what he's done, but he's gone, fleeting one last glance at the girl who sits in the pier, before he too fades away.
Kairi presses her lips together and tries to hum to the fishes, swinging her land loving legs back and forth.
When he finds the bottle for the third and final time, he does not throw it away.
But he doesn't open it either.
He watches so many things within a blink of the eye.
Air particles, the sunlight, the back and forth lull of the seawater, and Kairi.
He watches Kairi so many times and she blushes prettily as she looks away.
They sit on the pier, a trinity, the three of them tightly interlocked as a circle. They all look in one direction, but no one catches anybody's eyes.
Back and forth, they exchange cards, curse and cheer, with their winning smile and their blank face; eyes moving back and forth like clockwork.
They play this game to pass the time away.
And no one asks the important questions.
He doesn't remember his dreams anymore.
But when he wakes up he hears the call of the sea and the voice of the King.
He holds her hand for the very last time, pressing one last kiss to her sweet lips.
And his soft smile fades away as he meets her amethyst eyes.
She tilts her head, mouth parted open so just a slither of air passes between them. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry." And it breaks his heart, but he has to do this. "I'm letting you go."
"Why?"
"Because… I can't do this anymore. I have to go. Save the world again. And I don't want you to wait on ghosts that were never there."
"But… I'd wait an eternity for you." He can't stand to look in her tear-filled eyes, yet somehow he finds the courage to do so. "You'll come back. To me. To Riku."
"And what if I don't?" It's a possibility that he doesn't want to think about, but now it's the only thing that occupies his mind. "What if I never return? What then? You'd be stuck, waiting on a memory… and Riku wouldn't be able to help you." Not the way he could. Not the way he should. And their friendship would be forever tarnished by the boy of the sky who could not fulfil his listless heart.
After all, a saviour's job is never done.
"But," Kairi's melodious voice is but a whisper, "He's not you."
"He's Riku, and that's enough."
There's nothing to say; so Kairi merely leans into Sora as he wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Like Romeo without his words, he stares outside her window, the one she never looks through, the one she never comes close to.
But her tears are heard clearly in his ears.
The punch hits him hard, resounding in his heart.
But he doesn't blame Riku, Sora thinks as the paper crumples to the ground.
He was expecting that.
He needed that.
But it's not enough for him to stay and settle in their quiet island, sheltered by the sun and the moon.
Sora. Sora. Sora.
Have you figured it out yet?
(Time is running out.)
He walks away, bruises forming, silent as Roxas has been all this time.
And somehow, between the rising and falling shades of blue, light to dark to light once more, a gummi ship comes, Donald and Goofy and Mickey on board.
And his smile burns with guilt and shame, one which they cannot see.
In the distance, he can hear the sailors sing their merry tales; fires burning bright as they drunkenly sway, off to another adventure, another journey.
One where they fall in love all over again with someone completely different.
"You're going then?" Trapped in a state of stupor, the silver-haired friend finally says something.
"Yeah." Sora replies, voice soft, eyes grave.
There is nothing but a broken silence between them.
"Take care of her," he says, and the irony is not lost on Riku.
The voices of his new comrades are lost as he steps into the familiar ship, Donald and Mickey at the helm, Goofy watching through the window.
They don't comment on his rough appearance.
He'll get better, stronger too. He always does.
And Kairi runs as the gummi ship rises to the air, eventually collapsing in Riku's arms, who holds her steady and whispers words of comfort.
They're the last thing he sees of Destiny Islands, forever to be ingrained in his memory.
The sky is limitless, and forever a drifter, leaving everything behind.
You cannot pin it down. You can only scrape the clouds and marvel at the stars.
Because Sora is the sky, and the Land and the Ocean can never reach him.