SUMMARY: [Future! Canon] In which Sora has a sudden, terrifying revelation one morning when he wakes up to the bathroom door closed, for the very first time.
WARNING: PG 13, nothing too explicit. Although there would be innuendos of incest, please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction with no relation to real-life events or people whatsoever.
NOTE: it's been months...and I actually wrote all of this in 3 hours ahaahaa...ha. Okay yeah that's not funny. But heeey it's finally here~ I'm still alive, sort of dying because there are finals to study for, but alive. I'm like half-way done with the next chap for my other story, but it's definitely staying there until I ace these effin tests.
Hope you guys are doing well and still enjoying this. And hopefully I'll be back soon again~
.
.
.
4.
Growing up meant many things.
It's about moving out, studying higher, earning money, paying for bills…The same idea's been applied to people in such a long while, and simply impossible to get rid of anytime soon.
But Sora knew how his would've become. Growing up was watching his parents snarling, of picking up broken glass and falling custody papers. His fingers bled blood and his eyes dried tears, but nothing ever stopped them from walking out the door.
But he guessed he should be happy they did what they did, because a week later the best thing in his life came along.
He should have known luck would only last him for so long.
.
.
.
On her fourteenth birthday, Shiro asked to go out alone.
He shouldn't have been surprised, he really shouldn't. The tight stockings, sharper eyes, fuller hips were just the first few steps that finally led to this, but neither managed to stop him from choking on his water, tears brimming at his eyes, or the gargled words that spewed out from his mouth.
" – To where?"
She shrugged. She's been doing that a lot lately. Sora blamed Chlamy for it – her and her unperturbed, uncaring manner.
He should have asked for more, should have put himself in front of her, occupied her entire view cause that was all he ever wanted Shiro to see – him, them. It was a brick wall he's trying to push through with nothing but failing arms and battling breaths, and nothing was moving.
Shiro never replied, or looked back at him. Her eyes were as lucid and clear as ever, and all Sora could see was his broken smile on shattered glass.
"Sure." He said, and knew nothing he could say after this would mean anything more.
.
.
.
One afternoon, it's raining, pouring, the water smacking down like tiny, wet fists on the landscape, on the people.
Shiro is a quiet girl. Shiro doesn't go to him and ask for what she wants. Shiro spends days on books and curls soft fingers into his shirt when she knows he needs it. And when Shiro has her first heart break, it's the rain she comes to first.
He found her in their shared bed room, even though it hasn't been shared by both of them for a while. She's curled herself completely still and silent on the window sill, and he covertly took his time at the door – never stopping staring at her lithe, smooth mane of hair draping down her shoulders.
"It hurts."
She said, turning back to look at him. The rain is pit patting against the walls like sullen fists on a wooden desk, but Sora could have sworn all he heard was the buzzing in his heart and the sighs in her voice.
This time, he did put himself in front of her. Her eyes were clear and misty staring back at him, and he thinks he knew how it was paining.
"It hurts."
She repeated, muffled against his chest and warm against his heart. But then hot palms and tight grips were fisted behind his back, and Sora knew he could be numb and dead and he would still remember how all of this felt.
It was familiarity. It was home, and he would never ask for anything else for as long as he lived.
.
.
.
(there's cracks in his voice, and it always breaks all over her)
For such an observant and cunning guy, her brother really is clueless.
She's finally fifteen – and everything feels so different. There's itches and flutters breaking all over her skin, under her skin, bloating her flesh out. There's curves smoothing out and pains sinking in. Stephanie and Jibril just gave her looks and passed her smirks, "puberty" – they tutted, grinning, assuring her that boys have it too – "Even Sora's voice is breaking!" but it's still the most horrible the worst thing how did other girls manage to put up with this –
But then there was the infatuation, that made her head dizzy and her hands quiver. Reading becomes harder, the castle becomes more suffocating, and just trying not to look at her brother because she knows he's looking at her and she can't afford to look back because her tummy feels funny and her heart is swelling – she just knew leaving was the only escape.
The boy was her age, an Imanity, with night black hair and sky blue eyes that always lingered when he bid her goodbye. His crooked grin and titled head made her hands curl into her clothes and Shiro just knew she wouldn't last a month staring starry-eyed after his tall, thin limbs. Limbs that curled around another girl the next week when she caught them walking around the city's market.
There's a hole in her too soft, too swollen heart, and it scratched against her throat and itched against her eyes – a hole that suddenly started filling itself in again when she pressed her face against familiar warmth and pushed her cold hands on board, firm back.
"Forget him, Shiro. You'll find your best one someday."
Stephanie told her once, squeezing her fingers tight like a lifeline. Shiro simply smiled back at the cheerful girl. She didn't answer, but she thinks she was starting to see why.
Sora's voice is breaking, and Shiro thinks she knew it's not that 'puberty' doing the talking.
.
.
.
(TBC)