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Resting was not easy when you were constantly plagued by dreams. Dreams that left you with the unmistakable feeling that they weren't only weird products of your fatigued mind.
Sora knew better.
The summer after his 14th birthday had been full of these kind of dreams and he had tried to brush them off, only to find not long afterwards that the dreams became mostly real; frighteningly real. Foreshadows of a dark time.
Of course then, Sora was not glad when the dreams returned. Chosen one or not, Sora felt he had done his share; done enough, and gotten little reward for doing so, mind you. Stranded in a world not his own, burdened with a bunch of old memories, and feeling –at all times- the absence of the two most important people in his life. Hardly fair, in Sora's opinion.
He sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes frantically. The latest dream had left him with a specially bad after taste: that familiar and dreadful feeling of falling, falling forever, hitting the water below, opening his eyes and there they were…
The lax form of a heartless Kairi. And Riku. Riku wreathed in shadow, offering his hand out for Sora to take. Sora wanted nothing more than to take it… And on this last dream, Sora remembered the effort, the strain of trying to reach, the tips of his fingers burning when the shadows licked them, but it didn't matter.
One more step, only one more and their hands would meet.
"Riku!"
Riku's smirk grew more pronounced when Sora's hand slapped into his own, and he pulled Sora close to his side, wrapped both arms around the smaller boy and let the shadows swallow them both.
Sora got up and stalked to the bathroom, wanting and not wanting to recall the dream.
Cold. Dark. Afraid.
Warmth. Light. Safe.
How was it possible to feel all that at once?
The bathroom's mirror held no answers. Only the detached reflection of a face, a young and tired face. Round eyes, little nose, spiky hair. Sora.
Sora, Sora, Sora.
So-ra.
Sora. Sora.
People had always given different inflections to his name. Only Kairi and Riku had made it sound nice enough, always the same, familiar and pleasant.
"Sora!" Kairi's sweet trill. Excitement. Happy. Love.
"Sora…" Riku, rolling it on his tongue. Challenge. Pleased. Friend.
Sora left the bathroom and went back to the bedroom. The sun was pouring through the high windows. Another beautiful morning in… wherever they were. But there was something different today. Sora breathed in the cool, morning air and scanned the grounds below his window.
A sense of foreboding, stronger than those that came with the dreams, gripped Sora's mind and -almost unconsciously- he summoned the Keyblade. The reassuring weight of the steely handle materialized on his waiting hand and he curled his fingers tightly around it.
Sora closed his eyes. 'When I open them again, it'll be there… the black spot on the ground… inky darkness.
'Heartless.'
And, indeed, when he slowly pried his eyelids open… there it was. Like black flames sprouting from the green grass. Amid them, a dark shape detached itself from the swirling mass. But it wasn't any form of Heartless Sora had ever encountered. Or was it?
Its head glinted under the pale sunlight and Sora's heart was suddenly beating wildly at his throat. He climbed to the windowsill and fully trusting the Keyblade to keep him safe, Sora flung himself out of the window and down on to the ground below.
Okay, landing on his feet would have been too much to ask for. Sora rolled onto himself as he hit the ground; the grass was wet and cold, same as the breeze, and he had little clothing on, no shoes, and no, the Keyblade wouldn't keep him from being cold. Damn it, he better run.
He sprinted forward, adrenaline surging through his veins: he felt so alive, so awake. The darkness was no longer visible ahead, but there was definitely someone standing there. He felt a tingling sensation on his right hand: the Keyblade was thrumming, almost as if it were singing and Sora's heart was humming along.
As he came within six or five feet from the person standing amid the green field, Sora stopped, panting and unbelieving.
"Riku!"
The figure turned slowly around; half a smile etched on the perfect lips, silver hair framing the well-known face, slanted sea-green eyes boring right into Sora's.
"Sora…" he said, as he offered his right hand, stillness settling on to the rest of his body. Just like in Sora's mind, Sora's dreams, and Sora's heart. "Let's go home," Riku said, the half smile blooming on his lips.
Sora's breath hitched. His dream! His second chance… it was here, if he wanted to take it. And his hand was already moving forward, free. Free to grasp Riku's, if he could reach it this time.
And he did.
In one swift motion, Sora launched himself forward and clasped his hand on to Riku's.
For a second, they both stood there staring into each other's eyes; a sorrowful mix of light and dark, pain and joy. Sora and Riku. Riku and Sora. Like always. And around them, the world spun around, dark tendrils rose up to envelop them—
Heat like fire. Cold like ice.
--and then there was nothing. A blissful explosion of light melting into darkness.
Carried by the momentum of his dash, Sora stumbled and fell on his knees. His eyes were closed, but he almost expected to feel the grainy warmth of sand beneath his open palms, as he braced himself on the ground. Sand meant home. He strained his senses to hear the flow of the waves on the shore. The salty scent of the air… yes, home. Riku. Kairi.
"Riku?" he called, opening his eyes.
There was no beach. No paopu tree. No sky and no shore. Nothing in between.
And when the first bitter tears rolled out of his eyes, they fell on the grass below. In his hand, the Keyblade gave a mournful trill and vanished without its usual blue glow.
Sora hugged his knees to his chest, hiding his face on the crook of his arms and shivering. The cool morning breeze blew around him, carrying the sound of broken sobs out to the empty green plains of this unknown world.
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