One touch started it all.
At least, that was what Wakka liked to think. He liked to think that if it hadn't been for that touch, he could have stayed safe. Untempted. He knew that he was lying to himself - that there would have been other moments. But self-deception was easier than facing the truth.
They were on the airship, alone together in one of the bedrooms. Lulu had been there, but had left some moments earlier with a knowing smile. Rikku looked uncomfortable, as she often did when it was just the two of them. He put her on edge. Her eyes were darting towards the door when he spoke. He didn't know what possessed him to say anything. He supposed he just wanted her to know that everything - all that he'd said about the Al Bhed - it didn't apply to her.
After a few moments swallowing the silence, he finally managed to say what he wanted. "I'm… sorry, Rikku. For what I said. About the Al Bhed. I mean, we're all the same deep down, yeah?"
And for the longest time, she'd just stared at him. He'd always remember her spiralled eyes - oh so beautiful and oh so Al Bhed, and kaleidoscopic with warring emotion.
Then she'd bounded up to him and touched his bare forearm. And the whole world had stopped, shifted. He knew she'd said something in reply, but he hadn't heard a word of it. His ears were ringing and his vision had gone blurry at the edges. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire. This feeling was new and strange and terrifying. And in a split second he was addicted.
From that instant, everything in his life changed. He found himself staring at her wherever she went. When she wasn't there, he thought of her. When he slept, he dreamed of her. And as his infatuation grew, he found his imagination expanding. He imagined illicit skin. He imagined her before him, baring more than just her feelings and desires.
And some of his dreams… the two of them alone. Tanned skin and Blitzball muscles, tangled together. Hips and lips and hands. Quaking silver and liquid fire and ecstasy. He woke from these dreams breathing shallowly and covered in sweat.
He tried to detach himself, he really did. But he so wanted to touch her, to stir her, to see her and have her really see him. Sometimes temptation got the better of him. Sometimes he just had to act stupid and immature around her. Sometimes he just had to throw her off the Besaid wharf, so that he could watch her swim to the surface, spluttering with angry disbelief. He liked seeing her angry. She got all fiery and her face lit up and she could never articulate herself properly. Wakka knew that, despite common belief, the opposite of love was not hate. It was indifference. And at least when he provoked her, when he got a rise out of teasing her, he knew that she noticed him. At least then he was in some way inside her.
He was a virgin, of course. Before now he'd been far too deeply involved with superstitions masquerading as the Only Right Thing to even consider a physical relationship with a woman. Much less an Al Bhed woman. But Rikku broke all the rules. And he wanted her.
His faith was turned on its head. But it wasn't only his infatuation with an Al Bhed girl that was defying the teachings he'd followed his entire life. Sometimes, when he was lying in bed, the dreams got too much for him. One hand would slip under the covers for a forbidden release. The other wound itself in the sheets, clenching white-knuckled tight as his hips thrust forward and a guttural moan in the shape of her name spilled from his lips.
Wakka often wondered if Rikku had any idea how he felt. He knew that Lulu knew, in the same way that she knew everything. Though she never said anything, it was in the pointed looks and raised eyebrows that said more than mere words ever could.
"Tell her," they insisted. "Tell her and get it over with."
But Wakka knew intuitively that Rikku would never be able to give him what he wanted - needed - from her. And telling her would only create tensions and divisions, not only between the two of them, but within the entire group. And nothing was as important as Yuna's pilgrimage and unity between her guardians.
It was the coward's rationale. Wakka knew that. But it was his choice. And because of it, he would always have to be content with only his dreams.
His dreams, and one touch.