Author's Note: Eh. . .I'm kind of dissapointed by the fact that so many people read this without ever reading Fairy Tale Ending. It says they're companions in the summary, so wouldn't it be logical to read Fairy Tale Ending before this? This is, after all, kind of a sequel. Kind of, considering the fact that about three quarters of it takes place during FTE. So yeah, if you haven't ready Fairy Tale Ending yet, please do it. Many thanks to those of you who actually did.

And So It Goes:

Part the Second: "Felt the Thorns"

- And every time I've held a rose, it seems I've only felt the thorns.
And so it goes, and so it goes. And so will you soon, I suppose. -

"You know, I dream about him sometimes," Riku murmured, staring into the rich, mahogany liquid in the mug sitting before him. It was stated in a very matter-of-fact fashion, thrown into the air offhandedly, very 'just thought you should know'.

Squall peered over the rim of his own mug, studying Riku's bent head and the way his glittering bangs swept over his eyes. Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, he set down his cup and silently cleared his throat.

"Oh?" he asked, carefully removing his gaze from Riku before the boy lost interest in his drink. Squall hated when Riku caught him staring. Riku always seemed so smug, proud that Squall found him appealing; seemed a little bit more like he was before The Breakup, a little more like Sora's Riku.

Riku nodded, and Squall did not bother to ask for an explaination.

"I dreamed about him last night," the silver-haired boy continued, dangling the last word, indicating that he'd soon continue.

Stiffening, Squall rose to place his now empty mug in the sink. He didn't need to hear about this. He'd known about it, it was obvious. Some nights Riku would wake suddenly and cling to the brunette, wrapping fingers around his arm, digging blunt nails into barely-feeling flesh, and Squall knew that Riku had been dreaming. But he didn't need to hear about it, even if Riku found it necessary.

Which, apparently, he did.

"We were kissing," he began, before quickly throwing a flustered glance upwards and stammering, "Us, not me and. . .we were kissing. The two of us, on a beach, in the water. Then, there was this wave, and it washed over us, and then, all of a sudden, you weren't there anymore."

As he paused, Squall leaned against the counter, staring at the boy with arched brow, intent on only half listening to Riku, as had become habit. Riku tended to ramble these days, and Squall had no patience for it.

Because when Riku rambled, it meant he was. . .

"I looked for you," the boy whispered, "for a long time. I tried to call out for you, but I couldn't make a sound, and I swam. I swam until I couldn't breathe, until I thought I'd drown," his tone was somber, and he sounded eerily like he was delivering a eulogy.

The brunette shifted weight uncomfortably.

"When I turned around, there was someone on shore. It was him."

Every muscle in Squall's body stiffened, and he let out a thin, silent sigh as the silver-haired boy continued.

"I swam in and tried to call for him, but I still couldn't speak. When I reached him, he was smiling - smirking. He never smirked in real life. Ever. Not once. He had. . .his eyes were. . .grey. He had grey eyes. Your eyes," Riku glanced up, locking on to those tempestuous orbs and boring through them, scraping away at steel to find the raw flesh he knew was hiding somewhere behind the storm.

Squall turned his head to the side. He didn't want Riku looking at grey while he was thinking about blue. How was he supposed to compete with searing, center-of-the-flame blue, when all he had was storm-cloud grey?

Grey could fade so easily. Blue. . .

Squall hated blue. Blue kind of. . .

"I asked him why, but, again, I couldn't speak. He reached out to me, offered me his hand, but when I tried to take it. . .chains just. . .shot out of his wrist and wrapped around me. They were covered in blood, and I remember thinking that some of it was probably mine."

The brunette listened, unable to compel himself to do anything but listen, despite the need to comfort the boy. He still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of wanting to see someone happy, let alone needing to.

"I, uh, asked him something," Riku drawled. The tone of his voice. . .something about it caused Squall to instantly throw away thoughts of grey that should be blue and risk catching Riku's eye.

Turquoise, which was just not-blue enough to be comforting, begged him for a reaction, for less space between the storm and the land it wept for.

"I mouthed a question, but I can't remember what it was. He just kept smirking, shook his head, and. . .pushed me. He pushed me into the water, and I guess I drowned. "

It begged for strong arms that scorched instead of warmed. It wanted heat somewhere between the light and the dark. It did not want blue heat.

It needed blue heat, but sometimes want was stronger than need.

Squall still hated blue. Blue kind of. . .

"Weird, huh?" Riku asked, snapping his head to the side and smiling.

The brunette blinked. That kid made hiding emotions seems so natural. His smile did not even slightly strain his delicate features, and the transition had been so smooth, so sudden. . .

Squall wouldn't have caught that air of uncertainty, of desperation, that came with hiding, if he hadn't once been the same way; if he hadn't hidden his emotions to the point where it was questionable as to whether or not he even had them anymore.

Now he was worried. Riku had begun hiding. Squall had thought he wa helping the boy, stopping him from spiralling into a life of nothing but turning away and walling walls. Now, Riku was closer to the abyss. Now. . .

Now it seemed like Squall was just helping the process along.

He moved slowly, cautiously. He moved slowly and barely dared to breathe as he succumbed to the begging eyes, now withdrawn, and took a seat next to Riku, rather than across from him, as was customary.

Blue was harsh. Grey wasn't. Grey was good at comforting.

At least, that was the logic Squall relied on as he cast softened, grey eyes on the hiding boy.

Grey may have been good at comforting, but Squall was not. Not when he had to rely on words.

Riku glanced at the brunette, and his smile faltered, lips twitchin and falling into a thin line as he lowered his eyes once more.

"Riku," Squall chided, reaching over to tilt the boy's chin towards him in an effort to get the boy to look at him.

Riku frowned, eyes pointedly focused on something on the floor. Or, perhaps, they were focused on nothing in particular, an ideal that resided somewhere past reality; somewhere beyond the here and the now.

"Riku, look at me."

The boy's teeth ground against each other and his frown deepened, brows drawing together in annoyance.

"Riku," firmer, more persistent.

Growling softly, Riku jerked his head to the side, freeing himself from Squall, who scoffed, running his hands through his hair, cradling his head and resting his elbows on the table. He squeezed his eyes shut, and sighed.

Riku was farther gone than he had though and the only way he could move closer to the surface was with help. Squall had to help him, had to get him to open up.

"What do you want me to do?" the brunette grumbled, "What can I do to help you?"

"You could start listening to me when I talk to you."

"I listen," Squall half lied. He half lied, because he half listened, and he half listened beause Riku rambled. And when Riku rambled, it meant he was thinking about Sora.

Riku glared at Squall, one eyebrow arched delicately.

"You don't talk Riku. How am I supposed to listen if you don't talk?"

"I talk all the time!" Riku cried, sounding rather offended.

"But you don't talk about anything."

Again, the boy frowned, challenging Squall with his just not-blue enough eyes.

"You ramble, Riku."

Riku's expression changed instantly, anger morphing effortlessly into something akin to surprise. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, before pouting resolutely.

"Sora rambled," he threw out into the air in a childish attempt to defend himself.

It was the first time he'd spoken Sora's name aloud in months, and he reacted as if those two simple syllables had torn apart his mouth, clamping it shut and clenching his jaw.

"Riku, it's different, you know that," Squall murmured, though his tone was slightly more gruff than he'd intended it to be.

"How?" the boy asked, sounding absolutely defeated.

"He rambled because he had too many things he wanted to talk about. You ramble because you're trying to avoid talking about the one thing you actually want to talk about, the one thing you need to talk about."

Riku turned away from Squall, moving so that his back was towards the brunette, who hoped he had not pushed too far. It was something he had a knack for, not knowing when to stop pushing. Which is why he continued, just in case he hadn't pushed far enough.

"You have to open up to me, Riku."

"I'm open, Squall."

"No, you're not. You closed up after that one time at the diner."

"Maybe I just 'open up' differently than you think I do. Maybe you'd know that if you listened to me!"

"I'll listen when you actually have something to say," Squall muttered, careful not to raise his voice. Riku responded more when Squall did not respond conventionally.

Scoffing angrily, Riku sank down in his chair, slouching in a way that was hard to imagine as being comfortable, and pointedly turning further away from the brunette.

Squall could tell that Riku was waiting for a more appropriate response, so, leaning forward, he waited for Riku to give up.

"Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I don't open up because you don't open up?" the boy murmured finally, whirling around suddenly, his face a meager inch away from Squall's.

"What?" the elder asked lamely, taken aback by this statement.

"You never opened up to me, not once. And you rarely ever talk, Squall, and you're pushing me to open up? How can you expect me to confide in you, if you don't confide in me?"

"Riku, this isn't about me," the brunette protested, desperately trying to turn the focus away from himself.

"Yes it is!" the boy cried, "This is all about you! You want me to open up. You want me to spill my guts so that you can feel more secure about where our relationship stands. And you are the one who won't open up in the first place!"

Squall froze, his hand half-raised. He wasn't sure what he'd been intending to do with that hand, so he dropped it, and sighed. It was his turn to turn away now, his turn to grab onto every bit of denial and stubborness that he posessed and build his walls. It wasn't hard, not anymore.

"Well what do you want me to do, Squall?" Riku mocked, twisting position so that he was again facing the brunette.

"What can I do to help you, Squall? See, I can help, because I listen, or at least I would, but you don't talk, Squall. How am I supposed to listen if you don't talk?"

Squall had never hated the sound of his own name more than he did at that exact moment.

He hated it even more than he hated blue.

Riku looked at him expectantly, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. He was waiting, for an apology, for an explosion, for anything but Squall's ever calm voice softly chiding him.

And Squall knew that he could not react unexpectedly, not this time. Not when all the blue had left Riku's eyes, leaving behind only sea-after-the-storm green.

Riku was right. He had to open up to the boy. He had to, it was the only way to save Riku.

And maybe, in the meantime, he could save himself.

But, while walls were easy to build, they were not easy to scale, and so, he remained silent.

Riku's expression softened, his eyes lowering and his mouth puckering into a small, pathetic pout.

"Fuck you," he whispered, turning to walk away and scoffing silently.

As the silver-haired, broken boy crossed the room silently, something in Squall shut down, perhaps it was logic, and the walls crumbled and he did the only thing he though he could do at that moment.

"Fight with your boyfriend?" the man behind the bar asked as Squall silently took a seat.

The brunette merely locked his stone gaze on the man's smiling face.

"Sorry," he replied, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, "that was a very bold assumption for me to make."

". . . Whatever," Squall muttered, carefully studying the man's expression and making sure to dislike him, if only because his wild blonde hair and sharp, yet calm, blue eyes reminded Squall of Sora.

He hated blue.

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

"What?"

"I always am. It comes with the job. So, what do you want?"

Again, the brunette remained silent.

"So you're a talker, not a drinker. Then I'm definitely right," the blonde boasted, leaning against the bar so that he was closer to Squall, his calm-before-the-storm eyes silently questioning the brunette.

"Yeah," Squall muttered, caving in.

He hated blue. Blue kind of. . .

"What'd you do?"

"What makes you think I did aything wrong?"

"Well, you're the one here aren't you? The offender is always the one who runs off to drown his sorrows."

The brunette glanced away, clenching his jaw and, as usual, saying nothing.

"At least it shows that you're sorry?" the blonde murmured softly, sliding down the bar a little so that he could see Squall's face again.

And he stared, expression blank, but blue eyes pleading for a response from the broken down, walled up, frozen excuse of a human being in front of him.

"You know," he whispered, "you meet a lot of people as a bartender, but I've never met anyone with eyes like yours. Not once."

Squall looked up at the blonde, eyebrow raised sharply.

Since when did bartenders hit on their customers? Their male customers who had already established the fact that they were in a relationship?

"So what'd you do?" the blonde reiterated, smiling, his blue eyes muted so that they were no longer sharp and no longer reminded Squall of Sora.

Blinking, the brunette sighed and decided to, well, open up, for once.

Maybe it was the blue.

"I said 'I love you'."

"But you didn't mean it?"

"No, I don't think I did."

"You don't think you did?"

"No, I don't think I did," Squall repeated firmly.

"But you might?"

"I don't know."

The bartender leaned even closer, those serene eyes locking on to Squall once more. His breath whispered ocer the brunette's cheeks as he spoke, his tone sad, sincere.

"He doesn't love you, does he?"

"No," Squall murmured, returning the blonde's gaze, "he doesn't."

Those calm eyes were lost for a moment as the bartender blinked slowly, and then they returned in a blaze of blue.

Squall hated blue.

Blue kind of hurt.