Author's Note: Part the Third? Already? Yes! I've been in super write mode for the past week or so, so expect a lot of updates from me in the near future. Okay, so, Part the Third. We're almost done with And So It Goes! So sad. Anyway, this chapter, as well as the last chapter, is shorter than I would have liked it to be, but I can't do anything about it. Especially this part. It's short, and mostly dialogue, which makes it even shorter than it seems. Gross. Anyway, on to Part the Third!

And So It Goes:

Part the Third: "My Worst Mistake"

- But if my silence made you leave, then that would be my worst mistake.
So I will share this room with you, and you can have this heart to break. –

"Squall!"

The name rang through the hollows of the house, which was not his, echoing in the corners and gathering in the shadows of the dimly lit rooms, thick as cobwebs and just as delicate.

"You're home," Riku whispered as he emerged from the living room to stand silently before the brunette, worrying his lower lip and wringing his hands. Squall frowned at the word 'home'.

"Not quite the reaction I was expecting," he muttered, moving past the boy, selfishly delighting in the confused pout those soft lips pulled into.

"It's late," Riku said, raising the end of his words almost as if asking a question.

Squall's broad shoulders rose and fell smoothly and he continued his way down the hall.

"Squall," the boy whined, following after the retreating brunette.

"What?"

"Where'd you go?"

Squall shrugged again and continued his journey towards the bathroom, gaze lingering on the door that led to where this whole mess had begun; where fire devoured logic and hot mouths and hungry hands reached out to a place where chaos was king and raw, human desires overshadowed something more pure, more worthy of attention.

"It's late," Riku repeated, his voice thin as he followed Squall's gaze before quickening his pace to catch up with the brunette.

"Yeah," Squall grunted indifferently, twisting his fingers around a doorknob and slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door to prevent Riku from following him. A dull thud sounded from outside, followed by the whisper of fabric against wall and a faint sigh.

He locked the door.

"Squall."

Grey eyes narrowed and hands gripped the edge of the sink. He didn't know why he had come in here, so he made up a reason and crossed the room to turn on the shower.

"Squall, please," Riku pleaded once more, just as the shower sputtered to life. He was using that tone of voice again, the one that made Squall forget about how much he hated blue.

The door was unlocked, opened, and turquoise eyes, shining with sorrow, flickered upwards to gaze at a slightly-less-stoic-than-usual brunette.

"I'm sorry," the silver-haired boy murmured, rising quickly and throwing his arms around the other's waist. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Squall admitted softly, twisting fingers in the soft strands at the nape of Riku's neck.

"I'm sorry," Riku whispered anyway, standing tiptoed to crush his lips against the brunette's. Their bodies pressed closer together, and the pair stumbled backwards, the first unsure steps of a well-practiced dance, a waltz that forgot everything but piles of clothes on cold tile floors, careful feet stepping over porcelain walls, and waterfalls that washed away apologies, washed away memories of wild hair and blue eyes that were either too familiar and too bright, or too new and too calm.

And even when the water was shut off, they danced, whirling down hallways to tangle in sheets that whispered reminders of lovers past and were ignored as hoarse throats and shaking fingers burned new memories into the spaces where blue eyes once slept.

But when hands stilled and the air emptied, new memories melted away and apologies lurked behind clenched jaws and questions lingered in still-hungry mouths.

"Will it always be like this?" Riku asked, his head resting on a strong arm as dawn smiled dully through a smattering of rain clouds, shedding light into the room.

"Like what?" Squall asked, voice muffled by a smooth, pale shoulder as he placed small kisses against sweet skin.

"Like some weird cycle. We'll fight, have sex, forget, and then remember again. I'll dream and then we'll need to forget again, because my dreams will make us fight."

The brunette pulled Riku towards him, turning the boy so that their foreheads pressed together.

"Do you think there will ever be a point where we won't remember, where I won't dream?"

Squall surveyed the boy's expression, somehow sad, and content all at once.

"But you didn't mean it?"

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

"You don't think you did?"

"I don't know, Riku."

"Neither of us was wrong you know."

"We weren't right either."

"Maybe we were."

"We weren't."

"I didn't think you'd come back this time."

"I did."

"But I didn't think you would. I thought you'd leave me, just like . . ."

"I made a promise, didn't I?"

"So did he," Riku whispered forlornly, burying his face in the crook of Squall's neck and tracing the strong lines of the brunette's body with his fingertips as the dim light of dawn was snuffed and rain pattered on rooftops and ran in rivulets down window panes.

"Do you think he'll ever come back?" he asked.

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

"I don't know, Riku," Squall replied, not caring whether or not the boy noticed his tensing muscles or the sharp tone of his voice.

"What would you do if he does?" Riku pressed, his bright eyes burning Squall's cheeks as he lifted his head to stare at the brunette.

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

Turning his head, Squall frowned, wondering why he couldn't stop thinking about what that damn bartender had said.

"I don't know, Riku," he answered once more, practically growling.

The boy continued tracing invisible patterns over smooth skin until he found a patch of side that made the brunette's muscles twitch, his abs rippling almost un-noticeably. Smirking, Riku ran his fingers over Squall's side again and again, his free hand resting on the brunette's stomach to feel the gentle tremors his action elicited.

Squall shifted position and grabbed the boy's hands, locking them behind his neck as the boy laughed, burying captured hands in chestnut locks before planting a small kiss on his lover's cheek.

"I don't think we've remembered yet. Well, not really anyway," he sighed, rubbing his nose along Squall's jaw line.

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

"But you didn't mean it?"

"What if we don't remember this time? What if I don't dream, ever again? That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"You don't think you did?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Let's make a wish. Let's wish to never remember, to not dream again."

"What are we going to wish on?"

"A shooting star."

"Riku, it's dawn. There are no shooting stars," Squall whispered as if revealing to a small child that fireflies weren't fairies, and fairy tales didn't always have happy endings.

"It's a big universe, Squall," Riku said smilingly, "there's got to be a shooting star out there somewhere."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

There was a small moment of silence that was not heavy, or awkward, or even empty, before Riku spoke again.

"Wishing really gets you nowhere, now that I think about it. I mean, wishes don't always come true."

Riku was rambling again, but this time was different. This time, Squall listened. Full on.

"So let's promise. Let's promise each other, and ourselves, to never remember and never dream. You don't break promises, Squall."

"No. I don't."

"Neither do I. . .wait, don't promise yet; I want to change it."

"Change a promise?"

"It's not a promise yet, we can change it."

"Why are we changing it?"

Riku remained silent for a long while, and his smile slipped slowly away, and his face returned to the smooth curve of flesh where shoulder met neck. His breath billowed against warm skin, curling around nerve endings as his arms held tight to the brunette, still overwhelmingly grateful that they had something solid to hold on to.

"You didn't mean it, did you?" he asked finally.

". . .I don't think I did," Squall answered hesitantly.

"If I said it, I wouldn't mean it."

"I know."

"I still love Sora."

"I know."

"A lot. It hurts, but. . .but I don't think I'll ever stop loving him."

"I know."

"If there were a shooting star I'd wish for him to come back."

"It's a big universe, Riku. There's got to be a shooting star out there somewhere."

"I wish he'd come back."

"I know."

"If he did, you know I would leave you, right?"

"I do."

"And you don't care?"

". . .but I've never met anyone with eyes like yours. . ."

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"That's a hard question to answer, Riku," Squall answered softly, pulling the boy closer, surprised by the bitter taste his words left in his mouth. For the past minute or so, a lot of them had tasted almost like a lie.

"Try?" Riku pleaded, and Squall swore he could feel the warm moisture of tears on the cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"I can't, I'm sorry."

"We're going to remember soon."

"We already have."

"Do daydreams count?"

"They count."

"Promise not to leave me?"

"I already did."

"Promise again. A double promise."

"I promise"

"Thank you," Riku whispered into the crook of Squall's neck, peeling away from the brunette and curling into himself on the far side of the bed.

It seemed like an eternity of silence and empty air passed as Squall listened to Riku's breathing, memorizing the rhythm and waiting for it to slow with sleep. It never did, for the boy rose and dressed silently, and Squall heard him leave first the room, and then the house.

And then it was he who dreamed.

He dreamed of fog, and a man with calm blue eyes and wild blonde hair and a soft voice speaking soft words.

And when he woke, the doorbell rang, and Squall remembered why he hated blue.