I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

NINE CHAPTERS! This is officially my longest fanfiction ever! (So far.) :DDD YAY!

As promised, here is the next chapter.

Beta'd by: the fantastic copycat-capycot. :)


Chapter 9: You and Me

Leon was about to cut into a new body when heard the doorbell ring. Lifting his head, he momentarily wondered who it could be - it was only about one o' clock in the afternoon - and then thought that perhaps it was Cloud dropping by for a surprise visit. Turning away from his work, he went to the door.

He was shocked to find Riku standing there, Sora slung over his shoulder and dried blood down both boys' fronts.

"Leon, I can explain—" Riku began but he was cut off when Leon seized his collar and lifted him several feet from the ground. The silver-haired teen somehow managed to take hold of Sora's arm to keep the brunette from falling.

"What the fuck did you do to my son?" He snarled menacingly; above them, the porch light burst, sending sparks and pieces of glass raining down on them.

"He had a nosebleed," the eighteen-year-old gasped, his feet dangling. "He passed out and I brought him home!"

"Oh." Leon said, released him, immediately shifting back to his usual polite, chipper demeanor. "I apologize," he said with a smile as he stepped aside to let the silver-haired teen inside. "Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, Riku."

"N-n-no problem," Riku replied, a bit of leftover terror slipping into his voice.


'I'm screwed,' Riku realized this as he sat in his desk, his face in his hands.

After taking Sora to his house, the silver-haired teen stammered out a lame excuse and escaped as fast as he could. He realized it was a stupid, guilty-looking move, but he was too petrified of Leon to stay any longer.

But now, Riku had to deal with the crippling anxiety of being smote where he sat at any given moment. He knew it was a matter of time, and he had it all written up in his head in vivid detail: Sora would wake up. Leon would probably recount what Riku had said. Sora would reply with something along the lines of: "But Dad, that's not all, Riku molested me. He used me to throw off all his admirers. Go kill him, Dad." Then Leon would enter his room by some form of magic or black witchcraft, rip off his lie-spreading jawbone with his bare hands and leave him to bleed to death.

An hour crept by. Then two hours. Three hours passed and the eighteen-year-old began to wonder if Leon was going to destroy him at all. And finally—still alive—as he got ready for bed, speculating that he might just live for another day. If that was so, then what had happened? Perhaps Leon was feeling merciful? Or maybe Sora didn't say anything?

Either way, he spent a majority of the night tormented with nightmares of Leon strapping him to a surgical table and (while the silver-haired teen was still fully conscious) slicing his chest open with a dull knife.


The next day was not better for Riku, even if it was after Valentine's Day. Sora didn't come to school. The halls were alive with talk of his and Sora Leonhart's secret make-out session and it was practically official that the desirable and gorgeous Riku Yorushi was taken.

Axel was practically grinning ear to ear as the silver-haired teen approached the table with his near-emptylunch tray in hand.

"Heard the wonderful news!" the redhead said, slapping his back jovially. "You and Sora, huh?"

"Ax, let's not talk about it, please," Riku said miserably.

"Oh." Axel immediately caught what wasn't said. "So you…?"

"I did kiss him. But he… uh, didn't take it well."

"So, how did he take it?"

"He's not here today, remember?"

The taller sipped his strawberry milk, nodding sagely. "I'm actually surprised his dad didn't kill you by now," he added quietly.

Riku groaned; of course he hadn't forgotten about Leon. The silver-haired teen rubbed his sternum absentmindedly.

Sensing his distress, Axel changed the subject. "Zexion and Demyx got together," he said offhandedly.

"Zexion and Demyx?" Riku repeated, glancing up with surprise.

"Yeah," Axel said with a lopsided smile. He jerked his head towards the two, who had their hands intertwined underneath the table.


A combination of unbearable suspense, fear and guilt brought Riku to the Leonhart's front door that afternoon. Sucking in his breath, he knocked on the door. Minutes later, Sora answered, cracking the door open enough to peer out with his left eye. The brunette looked as if he hadn't slept; his face was haggard and apparent dark circles were underneath his eyes, darker than usual.

"Hey, Sora," the silver-haired teen said, his mouth dry. "Can I talk to you?"

Sora hesitated, but he eventually swung open the door completely and stepped aside.

"Look, about yesterday…" Riku began as he went in. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you like that. I shouldn't have kissed you. It was wrong, and I'm sorry."

The mortician's son wasn't looking at him. His cheeks were flushed and he looked altogether uncomfortable about the subject.

"Let me make it up to you," the silver-haired teen took a step forward. Sora instantly took a step back, his face unreadable. Riku was shocked at his behavior. A cold, sinking feeling settled in the eighteen-year-old's stomach. Nervously, the eighteen-year-old rubbed his arm.

"I'm sorry," Riku repeated. "And I understand if you don't want to be friends anymo—"

"No, that's…!" Sora spoke for the first time and trailed off, his face becoming redder. "That's… that's not it." He still wasn't looking at Riku in the eye, and he looked as if he wanted to say more. He bit his lip.

"Then, what is it?" the silver-haired teen pressed on, gently.

"I…" The younger was struggling hard for the words. "Yesterday, when you… k-kissed me... it was… my first…" He trailed off, far too embarrassed.

"Your first kiss?" Riku provided the words, brows arching up in shock. "Oh my God, Sora, I'm sorry." He placed his face in his hands in mortification. "I'm so sorry, Sora. I'm such an asshole—"

"No, I liked it!" Sora clapped his hands over his mouth right after the words left him. It took the silver-haired teen several moments to realize what he had just said.

"…Liked…?" Riku echoed—half-questioning, half urging him to go on—the gravity of the word seemed to change everything entirely.

Sora didn't respond. Instead he turned heel and raced up the stairs. For a moment, the elder thought that he had been abandoned, and then he heard Sora's feet rush back down, a package in his hands.

It was a box of Valentine's Day chocolates.

"I made them," Sora said. His eyes downcast as he opened the package. "I tried my best, but for some reason they turned into this…" He held one of the chocolates up. It was a perfect, miniature, chocolate rendition of a human skull.

"…Wow." Riku said, impressed. "And you… They just came out like this?"

The mortician's son nodded. "They started as hearts…" he said, sadly.

After a short period silence, Sora finally looked at him. "…and I think I love you." As he spoke his cheeks became several shades darker. It was spoken quickly, but the silver-haired teen heard it.

The silence that fell between them was agonizing, especially to Sora. He had never done this before, never expected that when Riku kissed him, above the shock there would be this content warmth that would make him yearn for his lips. He didn't know that the night before, while he laid in his coffin pondering, he would realize that after watching Riku for so long he would want to be with him like that. It was quite a drastic change considering he had originally wanted to murder the silver-haired teen in his early twenties and preserve his body in a glass case for all of time.

Riku's fingers tenderly wrapped around the hand that held the skull-shaped chocolate, snapping the mortician's son from his thoughts. Then he leaned forward and took a large bite. Sora jumped, startled by the action.

"It's good," The eighteen-year-old commented. "I like it."

The brunette's royal blue eyes met the other's turquoise eyes, and the silver-haired teen inclined his head further, pausing only to see if Sora would protest or cringe. But the smaller teen didn't do either. So, carefully, Riku took the liberty to close the distance between their lips.

The familiar, electric-like feeling coursed through Sora's body and, almost on instinct, he opened his mouth and allowed the other to deepen the kiss. Riku's lips were gentle and confident, strong and sweet, like the chocolate on the eighteen-year-old's tongue.

Riku pulled away, his eyes searching for any fear on Sora's face. There was none. Unconsciously, he felt a smile tug on his mouth.

Sora found himself smiling too. And without further ado, his eyelids fluttered shut and he nosebled all over them.

"LEON! LEON, HELP!" Riku shouted, completely taken by surprise. The brunette's body fell limp in his arms, blood everywhere.

"Good afternoon, Riku!" The mortician greeted as a nearby trapdoor burst open and he clambered out. "I thought I heard you. Oh, it seems that Sora has had another unfortunate nosebleed." He regarded the massive amounts of blood on his carpet as if it were a minor spill of milk. "Well, it appears to have stopped now, so why don't you take him to his room? I'll go fetch the bleach and water and clean this up."

There was a gleam in Leon's eyes that gave him away. He had probably been eaves-dropping on them, no doubt. Riku would have to deal with that later. He lifted Sora in his arms and headed up the stairs. The younger had come around by the last step.

"Did I do it again?" he murmured.

"Yeah," the silver-haired teen nodded.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Riku said, grinning. "Is it all right if I get a change of clothes? If your neighbors see me walking around, they'll probably think I killed you."


When Riku and Sora walked to the lunch table holding hands—and the mortician's son was exercising all his willpower to keep from having another nosebleed—everyone was grinning at them. Though both teens appeared to be on the opposite side of the normalcy spectrum, their friends were happy for them and continued their conversations as usual. This time the topic of interest was a newly-discovered ditch that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Apparently a sophomore had fallen into it and that was how the hole was found. Unbeknownst to the group, Zexion's ears had grown just a little pink and Demyx casually avoided eye contact.


[Wednesday]

It took but a few days into their relationship for Riku to realize that he and Sora needed to have their first official date. That school day and during their usual study hour, he thought about what they could do. He deliberated for a good thirty minutes on taking the brunette to a paintball arena, weighing whether the danger of giving Sora a gun—granted, an aerosoft gun, but a gun nonetheless—was worth the amount of fun and utter domination over their opponents they were bound to have. The eighteen-year-old eventually scratched out the idea because he didn't want to take any chances.

On the brink of depression over his dilemma, an intervention occurred. When Riku trudged home after studying at Sora's house, he opened the door to find his father standing several feet from him.

The silver-haired teen stopped dead in his tracks. His father, Sephiroth Yorushi, was a man who—though silently caring—exchanged few words with his son. He worked almost constantly at his law firm, and when he wasn't working he was honing his extensive and excellent martial arts and bushido skills. The man's devotion was divided between his job, his weapons and his family, the greatest portion probably going to his weapons. Sephiroth even used the guest room to house his instruments of mortal harm. He actually owned a six-foot sword—named Masamune—and carried it with him at all times because he could and there was no one who had the cast-iron testicles to tell him otherwise.

"Chichi-ue[1]," Riku said, surprised. "You're… home."

"Astute observation, Riku," his father commented. His hands were gripped behind his waist, his head held high and his long silver hair spilled smoothly down his back. "Though I was hoping for a more in-depth reply."

"What are you doing here, Chichi-ue? Shouldn't you be at work?" Riku shut the door behind him.

"Yes. But there's a matter of yours that has grasped my present attention." He beckoned his son to follow him with a hand gesture and they went to the dining table, which became a conference table at times like these.

"There is?" Riku took his seat.

"Yes, your boyfriend."

The silver-haired teen almost gaped. He hadn't mentioned his relationship with Sora to his parents yet. Riku was going to. Eventually. He was working up to it. The eighteen-year-old was currently in the stage of reciting what he was going to say to his reflection in the mirror, which wasn't really going so well.

"Yes, I am aware of him," Sephiroth said, recognizing the surprise in his son's eyes.

"I see you still extend full use of your uncanny ability to keep tabs on me, Chichi-ue," Riku replied a bit bitterly. He tried not to think on it too much because it creeped him out, but one way or another his father always knew things about him. Sephiroth would congratulate him on making the soccer team even before Riku would speak of it, or he'd remind him that he had to sign something for a field trip or some other school function.

"He's a very nice young man, if I do say so myself. Very polite."

"You've met him?" His son's eyes widened in astonishment. His father had a habit of scarring people for life on first impression (which was the reason all his friends begged Riku never to leave them alone with the silver-haired man ever.) He was a little less worried for Sora because he figured they'd actually hit it off, but still.

"In a matter of speaking. But that's beyond the point." Sephiroth laced his fingers in front of him. "I'm also aware that you haven't had a formal date."

"Why do you bring that up, Chichi-ue?" It was curious for his father to mention something like that. For the most part, the man normally kept himself out of the eighteen-year-old's life.

Sephiroth slipped his hand into his coat pocket, pulled out two tickets and slid them to his son.

"Perhaps that would assist you," the silver-haired man said.

Riku lifted one of the tickets. "The Atlantica Grand Symphony?" he read.

"A talented group of musicians," Sephiroth remarked. "Very worthy of a first date."

A rather satirical smile quirked on Riku's lips. "I appreciate your help, Chichi-ue, but I think I can come to a solution myself, thank you."


"The Atlantica Grand Symphony?" Sora asked the next day.

"Yeah, they're coming this weekend. I managed to get tickets," Riku explained, thinking of kicking himself for giving into his father's suggestion. "Okay, my father got them," he admitted.

"That was nice of him," the brunette commented offhandedly as he examined the tickets.

"Hey, Sora?" Riku asked.

"Yes?"

"Have you met my father before? He said you did."

Sora glanced up, his expression distant as he began to recall. "Ah, yes, we have met."

"You have? How?"

It had happened during the weeks Sora had stalked Riku. Three days into his venture and as he was settling into to his favorite spot in a convenient tree, Sora nearly had his head sliced off by a long sword. He tumbled down from his branch, landed gracelessly in the grass and then found himself face-to-face with Riku's father. Unsurprisingly enough, they got along very well.


"Who are you?" Sephiroth asked, the blade poised to strike. "Why have you been following my son?"

Sora held his hands up in surrender. "My name is Sora Leonhart. I am following your son because I wish to know more about him."

"Normal people would simply use conversation."

"Conversation is insufficient. Following him would yield more accurate data."

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, not out of anger, but out of interest. The boy had a point. To Sora's left, he saw a notebook and shuffled sideways to pick it up, all the while keeping the sword pointed at the brunette. He read through a page.

"This is quite good. Very well done," he said, finally. He lowered the sword entirely as he skimmed down the lines of data and inferences of Riku's habits Sora had accumulated.

"Might I say, sir, that you carry a very beautiful sword," the mortician's son commented. "I own a Meitou class katana myself."

The silver-haired man raised a surprised brow, his respect growing for his new acquaintance. He snapped the notebook shut and handed it back to him.

"Carry on," he said. Without another word, he turned and headed back into the house.


"We spoke after school," Sora said, which wasn't entirely a lie. He didn't think that he would ever disclose to Riku how he had stalked him early into their friendship. He was social enough to know that many people wouldn't find that very flattering.

"Oh. So I take it that you got along?" Riku wasn't surprised.

"Yes, we had a very nice conversation."

"Yeah, so—uh—I guess I'll… pick you up at seven?" He rubbed his arm nervously.

"That would be fine. How shall I dress?" the brunette asked.

"Formal. I think you'll need a suit."

"I have one. It's no problem."

"Great."

Riku was anxiously knotting his tie when he felt a chill run down his spine. He looked up at his mirror and saw Leon standing behind him. The silver-haired teen nearly cried out in surprise.

"'Evening, Riku," the mortician greeted.

"Leon," he gasped, whirling around to face him with his heart thudding in his chest. "Wha—what are you—? How did you—?"

"Let's not dwell on unimportant matters," Leon said dismissively. "Now, I understand that you are taking my son out tonight."

"Yes," Riku nodded. "To an—u-um—a concert, sir." He was thankful that they were going to something very proper. It would certainly make a good impression on Sora's father.

"Yes, I am aware," the tall brunette said. He leaned down, very close to the eighteen-year-old's face and spoke in a low voice. "Now, Riku, you must understand my concern. Sora is quite important to me, so please do not be terribly offended when I say that if you so much as harm a hair on his head I will personally guarantee that yousuffer." He slowed his speech to intensify the impact of the last word, letting it linger in the air. The light in the room flickered threateningly, Riku's laptop suddenly turned on, the screen overtaken by a wall of black, crystal-clear, Courier New font that repeated only one word over and over: AGONY.

The eighteen-year-old felt his knees buck and his back hit his mirror, his terrified eyes on the mortician—unable to look away. "Yes, yes of course, sir. I would never… d-do such a thing," he stammered a weak, truthful reply.

Leon's eyes thinned. "Have a good evening, Riku," he said. "Tell your father I enjoy eluding him." With those parting words the light in Riku's room went out completely for a millisecond… and then everything was back to normal. The mortician was gone. The lamp wasn't flickering, his laptop was off.

There was a knock on his door and moments later Sephiroth entered.

"Is something the matter, Riku?" he asked, glancing around the room.

"No, Chichi-ue, nothing," the silver-haired teen replied.

His father let out a disappointed hum. "I've never been able to meet Squall 'Leon' Leonhart personally," he said. "I wonder why he avoids confrontation."

"…he says it's because he enjoys eluding you," Riku answered, remembering the tall brunette's words.

"Quite," Sephiroth said deadpan. "If you're ready you should go, Riku. It's almost six-thirty."

Bidding a quick good-bye to his parents, the silver-haired teen was out, car keys in hand. Within fifteen minutes he was in front of the Leonhart house and knocked on the door. It was Sora who answered. The brunette was dressed in a suit that, even though it was similar to Riku's, seemed to fit him very well.

"Hey," the elder greeted, stepping forward to kiss Sora's forehead.

"Good evening," the brunette replied, blushing. He tilted his head to the left. "Are you all right, Riku? You seem pale."

"What—me? No." The silver-haired teen answered quickly.

"Dad has been to see you, I see. So that's why he left early tonight…" The mortician's son sighed deeply. "I apologize for him. I've never seen him so… defensive."

"No, no, no, it's totally cool. I mean, it's… nice… that he cares about you so much."

They walked to the car and drove off. Upon reaching their destination, Riku parked his car. The lot was rather crowded, the groups of people talking excitedly as they entered the music theater.

"Have you ever been to a concert before?" the silver-haired teen asked Sora.

"Yes," the younger answered as he stepped out of the car, which surprised Riku.

"You have?"

"Yes. I've been to see a few symphonies."

"You like music?" Riku tried not to sound too astonished but he couldn't help it.

Sora nodded this time. "I enjoy the alto saxophone the most. Do you enjoy music, Riku?"

"I do," Riku answered. "So, do you play?"

A man by the entrance asked for their tickets—interrupting their conversation—and the silver-haired teen brandished the slips of paper and they went inside.

"I play the alto sax, on occasion," Sora answered, continuing.

"You do?" Riku was surprised.

"Yes. Her name is Tubby."

"Oh." That was a surprisingly cute name—

"It's short for Mycobacterium Tuberculae."

"Ah." There was the depressing spin he was waiting for. Riku smiled and took Sora's hand.

"Shall we?" he asked, like a proper gentleman.

The brunette's cheeks flared and they continued down the splendid hall and into the auditorium, which had been decorated with Atlantica's colors, blue and gold. The symphony was warming up and multitudes of notes mixed with chatter from the crowd and musicians alike filled the large room. Sora and Riku's seats, surprisingly enough, were located in box two, high above the crowd and the best seats in the house. Riku had to remember to thank his father.

Shortly after seating, the director stepped onto the stage. Immediately, the entire room became silent; the audience ceased talking, the musicians became still, their instruments in the proper first position* and their backs straight.

As the director stepped onto the podium, the musicians assumed their second position**. The director raised his hands and his baton, most of the symphony immediately shifted to third position***. From his peripheral vision, Riku saw Sora slide forward in his chair intently, his eyes gleaming. Meanwhile, the director flicked his wrist four times to signal the tempo and the concert began.

As he listened to the elegant, wondrous music, Riku looked in awe at Sora. The younger's eyes were half-lidded, his face serene as he left the music fill him. His head often swayed with the swell and decline of the melody. When the key would shift or the mood would change or the notes would cluster into a tense bout, his face would reflect it.

For two performances, Riku watched in utter fascination.

"Ah," Sora sighed as the symphony started its third and final musical score. It was the first word he had spoken since the performance started. "I love this piece..." With this, he shut his eyes, became motionless and simply enjoyed the music, a pleasant expression on his face. If not for the occasional in-tempo bob of the head, Riku would have thought he had fallen asleep. The silver-haired teen found he liked the music as well—the brass, the resonating high notes of the woodwinds and the occasional, swaying, brittle solo of the violin.

Riku leaned towards him and spoke quietly. "What's it called?"

The brunette leaned over to him, and whispered two words. "Danse Macabre."

The Dance of Death.

The elder smiled. 'How just like Sora,' he thought. The words brought a fluffy, feathery warmth in his chest.

He wouldn't have the mortician's son any other way.


"I really enjoyed the concert," Sora said as Riku walked him to his front door, their fingers laced.

"I'm glad you did," the silver-haired teen said with a small smile. "We should go out again sometime. In the near future."

"That would be nice."

They reached the door faster than they had initially thought they would, and that left them in a slightly awkward silence.

"I guess I'll…" the brunette began. "I'll see you at school."

"Yeah—um. Sora?"

"Yes?"

Riku took a step bold step forward and connected their lips. "Good night," he murmured.

"Good night," Sora echoed. But he didn't move, and neither did the silver-haired teen.

Grasping the situation tightly, Riku leaned forward and kissed him again, more fervently. His arms were at the brunette's sides, stroking; holding him closer. He pressed Sora gently against his door and deepened the kiss. The younger moaned, his mouth opening slightly and Riku took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. The eighteen-year-old's fingers played along Sora's tux, searching for the hem of his pants. Within several seconds, Riku yanked the white formal shirt out of the pants, exposing a patch of smooth skin.

"Mmph!" The brunette let out a soft, muffled yelp as he felt the cool air on his abdomen. The silver-haired teen pressed farther, ravishing—

"Ahem."

Leon was standing several feet away from their left, looking rather peeved than usual since he found his son being molested at his very doorstep. Immediately, Riku shoved himself off Sora, whose chest was heaving.

"D-Dad," Sora panted, tucking his shirt back in place. It looked like he was using every ounce of his strength to keep from nose-bleeding into another fainting spell.

For a moment Leon stood still, like a statue—or gargoyle—and then the dark shadow was gone from his face, as if he had thought about starting a massacre and then decided otherwise. The tall brunette smiled.

"Good evening, Sora. I see you've had a wonderful time," he said cordially.

"Yes—ah—Riku was just…" the mortician's son started.

"Saying good-bye," Riku spoke up quickly. "I was just saying good-bye, sir."

The mortician's intense, steely gaze locked onto him, and the silver-haired teen felt his heart skip a beat with terror.

"I see," Leon said finally. "Come Sora, you must be tired," He opened the door for his son.

"All right, Dad," he addressed his father before turning to Riku. "Good-bye, Riku."

"Bye, Sora."

"Good-bye, Riku," Leon said.

Riku watched the brunette go before he turned and headed to his car. He opened the door and stuck the key into the ignition. The moment he gunned the car to life the radio played, which surprised him so much he jumped. He didn't remember turning it on.

The radio fluctuated, shifting through the stations and static before finally stabilizing enough for Riku to make out a few words.

"…and keep your hands to yourself!" Then the radio shut off.

Riku turned his head towards the Leonhart residence. Leon was still outside, his eyes fixed on him. For several seconds, they stared at each other. Until finally, the mortician raised his hand and waved, a deceivingly-friendly smile on his lips.

Deciding not to incur anymore unholy wrath, Riku pressed his foot on the gas and cruised down the street.


[1] Chichi-ue, a very formal way of referring to your father. Way more formal than Otou-san.

First position* in relation to musical performance is basically where the musicians hold their instruments in a uniform fashion. Each instrument has a unique way of handling. It's basically a fancy way of sitting. It's assumed long before and after you play a piece.

Second position** follows the first position. A musician will hold this position usually when they enter a long rest period, or when the director in on the podium.

Third position*** is when the musicians are about to play. This position is usually assumed about two or three measures from entry or right before playing the beginning of a piece. Example from my short-lived, high school, flute career: first position was with the flute horizontally on my lap. Second position was with the flute propped vertically on my lap, hands on my flute, with my back straight. In third position, my flute was lifted up and the mouthpiece was to my lips.

About Riku and Sephiroth: their relationship is a bit different from my usual motif with them. Normally, I like to have them hostile with each other and I like to use that relationship as comic relief (for details, see my other fic, Camera Doesn't Lie—and NO this isn't exactly a ploy to get more people to read my stories :P) In this fic, Riku respects his father more, which is obvious in the way he addresses and speaks to Sephiroth as opposed to how he speaks to his friends. I haven't really gotten into it, but Riku has a very Japanese up-bringing. His father is a very typical Japanese father here, aside from the fact that he has this unhealthy obsession with weapons and he knows a lot about his son. The Japanese have a saying that the best father is one who isn't around (because he'd be working so much.)

And one final around of applause for copycat-capycot, my personal grammar Nazi. :D Clap everyone! Clap!

- See you all next chapter! As always, please review.

|Corrosive Moon|