Quoshoopy

'Yansewers, Clarity'

I don't think it was ever a matter of me being clinically depressed or whatever the hell. But I don't think I was okay when I came into this world.

There's something fundamentally wrong with you, with your psyche, when your mother does not love you. The milk tastes sour, the smell of her keeps you awake and clings to you and reminds you of the uncaring, of the lacking in your tiny little life. Her touch is cold and her gaze is nothing more than a blank stare, looking through you to the other side, to her hands cradling your spine as you sit helpless in her lap.

Honestly, I can't say why it was that my mother didn't love me. I was the second of four children-- three sons and one daughter. That was the hand dealt out to my parents and even now I can't see what was so terribly wrong with it. None of us were ugly kids, none of us were bratty kids. We each went through our terrible twos and our terrible teens seemingly unscathed-- I asked my older brother about it and he even vouched for me on this.

But Zack couldn't understand. Of course he couldn't understand. The love was there for him. The love was there for all of them. All but me.

I once asked my old man why Mom didn't love me. He just looked at me funny, pushed his spectacles up his nose, and turned that page of the newspaper, holding it up so it hid his face. "I don't know what you're talking about. Get those silly ideas out of your head, boy." That's all he said. But he said it in a voice that was just ever so slightly... afraid.

When I was five and my parents' third child-- my sister-- was just two, I remember listening to my mother as she talked to the wailing kid, trying to calm her down. She was so patient, so amazing... I have yet to see another parent handle a tantrum with the skill and finesse with which my mother handled those of her three real children.

"Slow down," she'd say. "Slow down, babe. Use your words to talk to me, not your tears. Shh... slow down. I'm not gonna talk to you 'til you talk to me. Use your words, not your tears. Slow down, slow down..." Over and over again, firm, but soothing. The kid could be face-down on the floor of a supermarket, smack dab in the middle of a total meltdown and with a few of these words, with the touch of a hand, up they'd go and back to smiles and sunshine.

But I never remember her saying these things to me. I asked Zack if he ever remembered when I was that young, if she ever spoke to me like that. "I don't remember that long ago, you dick," he'd say. "Mom probably just picked it up after raising a couple kids. You know, parenting skills. Chill, it's not like it's a big deal or anything."

And I guess it wasn't a big deal. Or at least, it didn't seem like one. I made myself think it was okay, through elementary school and well into high school. I made plans for myself, I made goals. When I was in eighth grade, I won this writing contest at school and I ran home and told my mom about it. She gave me a hollow sort of half smile and a "Good job," whereas any other child would have gotten an ecstatic grin and sloppy kisses. But it meant so much to me then... I decided to become writer.

I would live that romantic life-- if I couldn't find love in my family, I'd look elsewhere. I'd live the American dream, but I wouldn't live it in America. I'd leave if I had to, I'd leave and find myself, find love, find fortune, and anything else out there.

My brilliant plan wasn't so damn brilliant after all. I don't really know what I was thinking now that I take the time to sit for a minute or two or three and... well... think about it.

I'd always loved France. Well, not the France you're thinking. Paris was a goddamn hellhole, but you should see the countryside there. Storybook wonderland, the French countryside.

The first time I went there was in high school, strangely enough. Nah, it wasn't with my parents. It was this trip my English prof wanted to go on. He only taught me when I was in my frosh year, but I didn't get to go when he asked me that year. How come? Well, my parents sure as hell weren't going to foot the two-thousand-dollar bill to send me over and give me housing for two weeks. Nah, it took me three damn years working tables at a Middle Eastern restaurant down the street just to pay for it. And let me tell you right now, that job was a pain like no other. I sure don't look Middle Eastern and restaurants have images to uphold you know. One slip-up and they would've kicked me out.

But my senior year, I had finally saved enough and the old prof was still running kids back and forth on this field trip kinda thing he had going on spring break. I went, was amazed, and told myself I had to come back. Well, like hell it was just going to be that easy-- it'd taken me three damn years to afford a two-week trip there. Somehow the math just wasn't on my side.

See, the real reason I fell in love with France and the real reason I wanted to go back so damn bad was all because of this one chick. No, not chick. She was a girl-- a real nice girl. And this one evening, me and a couple of the other guys in the group snuck out. I wasn't really sure about it-- if we got caught or if something happened, the poor prof was gonna take the blame. I went anyway, figuring that the least I could do was try and prevent shit from hitting the fan.

It sure was something else. Four culture-deprived American kids trying to navigate their way to a can-can house with only four words of French between them. To this day I still don't know how we did it. But we sure didn't find any Moulin Rouge. Instead it was just this run down old chateau-- boarded up windows, cheap wine, the whole nine yards. But the rest of the guys seemed to know what they were doing. Somehow. It just made them seem even more immature, in my opinion. But that's just me.

People who tell you about love at first sight are idiots. I didn't believe in it then and I don't believe in it now. Lust at first sight? Sure. Maybe. I don't know. But not love. Never love. So when I saw her for the very first time, I didn't love her. Get that, if nothing else. She was this scrawny little nothing dressed just like the rest of them-- too much make up and everything pushed up way too high for it to look natural. After the show, the four of us got to head back and mingle with the girls. Probably a perk of the boys having money, but I was never really sure on that. They all paired themselves off, some with two girls, some with even three. All curvy things with squealing, nasty kinds of voices.

I guess they left me her figuring she was some sort of runt. A little flatter, a little paler, a little quieter. I thought she was boring. She thought I was intriguing. And she said so, even. Well, sort of.

"You are... intelligent, yes?"

"...Uh, I wouldn't say so myself, no."

"...You speak French?"

"Not much."

"I see. What is your name?" She said it all as slow as could be, this rounded sort of French accent making each word so weird, so different. But damn did she make the effort.

While the other kids must have been out getting laid, I was sitting back in the empty dressing room with Aerith, sipping a glass of mineral water and proceeding to have the most awkward two-hour conversation of my young life. She wanted to know everything-- where I had come from, what my family was like, what my school was like, what I wanted to do with my life. But in that split second, it was like everything I knew was just gone. The slate wasn't wiped clean-- it was just flipped over, and I was staring at an empty cork backing.

If anything about it makes sense, I guess that part does. That minute in which I forgot who the hell I was, what the hell I was doing, and what the hell I thought I wanted out of life-- what the hell I thought I wanted to do with my life. Like hell anyone knows what they ever want to do with their life. Ninety-nine percent of the world is just winging it.

So I told her.

"I'm not really sure," I said. "I don't know what I want to do. I don't know what I'm good at. No one's ever taken the time to tell me."

"What do you like doing?"

"I don't know. Writing, I guess."

"Do you like talking?"

"Not really."

"Do you like singing? Ballet?"

"Uh, no. Not me."

"Do you like people?"

"...I don't know.'

"I see."

I couldn't help but feel that I was answering every damn question wrong-- I knew I was. But what was I supposed to do? No one had ever really bothered to ask me this sort of crap before. I couldn't just blow her off with a bunch of lies and half-assed-truths. Even if I thought I'd never see her again, somehow I just couldn't bring myself to lie to the damn girl.

When I got into college, my English professor told me to give up my dream of being an author-- I had no remarkable talent in the field and would show more flair in the the career of a janitor than that of an author. As simple as that, I dropped my creative writing courses and abandoned the dream without a second thought.

I went back to France a few years later, still having done absolutely nothing with my life and still having no idea what it was I really wanted to do in the first place. But I ran into the girl again. I made a stupid mistake-- one of those mistakes where you put everything on the line and risk getting nothing back.

I got nothing back. One dumb thing led to another.

But I get distracted.

I wonder what ever made me think I'd really--

"Cloud!"

The all-seeing weatherman was momentarily blinded, struck upside the face with a very large, very blunt, and very painful blitzball. With a whimpered little curse, he keeled straight over, sprawled on the park grass, hands cupped to his poor, defiled nose.

"Cloud! Shit, are you okay?"

"Hahahaaa, oh man, Strife! Just like that Brady kid, right? Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!" Tidus seemed to get some sort of morbid joy out of Cloud's agony, cackling gleefully and clutching his own nose in between howls of a falsetto rendition-- "'Oh, my nose!'"

Meanwhile, Sora peered worriedly over the fallen blonde, wincing visibly as Cloud opened his eyes. With their gazes locked, there was very little to be left unsaid. Their silent conversation went something along the lines of: 'You little shit, I can't believe I let you drag me into this.' 'I am so sorry.' 'Oww.' 'I am so sorry.'

As if that wasn't bad enough, their actual physical, real, out-in-the-open conversation just had to be ten times worse.

"Cloud, let me see it. Is it broken?"

"New."

"New?"

A furious shake of the head.

"Cloud, let me see. It could be broken. Is it bleeding?"

"Stobbit, Sowa."

Prying Cloud's stubborn hands away from his nose, Sora only leapt backwards in horror as he caught sight of the stream of blood gushing from Cloud's nose, smearing across his hands. Growing angrier and redder by the second (whether from the blood or from the embarrassment, Sora couldn't tell), Cloud staggered to his feet and turned swiftly on his heel, storming across the park. Several yards away, he tried to brush his arm casually against his nose, only succeeding in bloodying his shirt sleeve and worsening the look of his face.

Tidus was still clutching his sides, doubled over in hysterics when Sora turned on him and suddenly snapped, "Stop laughing, Tidus! It isn't funny!"

So much for trying to put the awkwardness of last night behind us! Damn, I didn't think Cloud could possibly be this bad at playing... he can't even catch! And now he's hurt... and bleeding... everywhere. So much blood... ugh...

Catching up to Cloud wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been, seeing as the two had decided to walk to the park that morning instead of taking Cloud's bike. Falling into step beside the older man, Sora opted to do the smart thing and just shut up for a while, not doing or saying anything other than focusing on the ground in front of him and the simple task of making it into the ground behind him.

Yes, walking could sometimes be a very complicated sort of thing.

x x x

Kairi awoke that morning, eyes still glued shut to the world as she felt consciousness starting to creep up on the peaceful darkness of her still-sleepy mind. Almost instinctively, she fought against wakefulness by burying deeper under the covers, deeper into her pillow, and deeper into the only other source of warmth her bed had to offer. ...Riku.

Sadly, her silver-haired heater had arms and wasn't afraid to use them to shove her away, cursing and whining all the while. "Urgh, get the hell off me. You smell like a girl."

"Nyahh... Dun' you huv a hum of yer own?"

"God, you sound like you have a bad hangover. You didn't even drink anything last night. Are you even awake yet?"

"Nuh."

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Riku placed both arms lazily behind his head, his back against the headboard, his gaze towards the ceiling. "This is why I swore off sleeping with girls. Always with the damn cuddling. The morning after is always made awkward by their lack of stamina and their damn--" Noticing Kairi eyes fly open and her body instantly tense up, Riku had to laugh and tack on, "We didn't have sex, Kairi. Please. I have standards."

It was all Kairi could do to stifle the urge of beating her dear friend mercilessly before rolling out of bed. There was something slightly unnerving about waking up to the face of a gay male, but she wasn't quite sure how to phrase this-- so she just left it alone, opting to bustle off to the shower before Riku got a chance to suck up all the hot water. Like some... hot-water-sponge... or... something equally absorbent. Honestly, she figured he should be paying rent for all the time he was spending cramping her style.

Huh. Do I have a style to be cramping? I don't feel cramped. Just annoyed.

As she slid into the spray of water, Kairi focused intently on the shower-head peering down at her. Something felt slightly off. Slightly... sort of slightly dead-like. Sort of slightly dead-like? Maybe I should brush this off as a side-effect of waking up next to Riku. Arrogant jerkface. Thinks he can just--

"Nyah." Growling and grumbling, Kairi bent down to pick up the bar of soap that had slipped clean out of her hands. She got water in her eyes, nearly slipped on the floor of the bathtub, and ended up clinging to the washcloth rack, hanging on for dear life. And upon picking up the fallen soap, she noticed that one little corner of it had gotten mushed inwards on its fall.

So much for full-circle wholeness.

Kairi pondered the idea of malformed soap bars all through her shower, which she took her merry time with. And when it came to pass that she was squeaky clean and feeling somewhat more awake, she attempted to then cleanse herself of the half-dead feeling she had hanging over her head.

"OWW! KAIRI!"

Walking over towards the bed, Kairi picked up the bar of soap from where it had fallen. Examining it closely, she could only frown as she saw yet another little dent in its surface.

"Riku," she said. "You have a very, very hard head."

x x x

"I'm fine, really, get off."

"You could have a concussion or something...!" More careful prodding. Another heaved sigh. And the sort of thick awkwardness that makes a room hard to breathe in.

"...It's not broken, okay?" Cloud twisted free from Sora's grasp, turning his head away, trying to ignore the sharp stab of pain the movement caused his head. Could I have mad more of an ass of myself? I can't even catch a stupid ball. ...Stupid, stupid, stupid... And now my nose is swollen to the size of a grapefruit.

"Cloud..." Sora warily rested one hand on his shoulder, the touch distracting Cloud so he didn't notice the other hand near his face resting on his bruised nose. At least, he didn't notice until his brain started screaming 'painpainpain!' and he could do nothing more that snarl and snap and wrench away from the contact.

"Dammit! Why do people always feel the need to touch it when it hurts?"

The question went unanswered, mostly because Sora had begun to catch onto the idea of rhetorical questions and took a wild guess that that was one of them. Instead, he chose not to move, just watching Cloud carefully. Watching as the blonde seemed to deflate after his outburst, looking at the ceiling with an almost guilty stare. Sora could just barely make out a slight tinge of pink around Cloud's ears-- embarrassment?

"I'm sorry," Sora said quickly.

"Why are you apologizing? It wasn't your fault."

"I get the feeling I've done something wrong."

"...Why?"

"'I'm fine, really, get off?' That was a clue, for starters."

"...Sorry."

"You're..." Sora bit his bottom lip gently before letting it go and mumbling, "You're not upset with me, are you?"

"No, of course not!"

"Good. I'll get you some ice for that, okay?"

Determined to prove to himself that he was not a complete and total wuss, Cloud steered himself upright as Sora left the room, headed for the kitchen. Thankfully, that meant Sora didn't catch the muffled groan of pain, the hands clutching at the head and the muttered, "Oww... owow... shit... ow."

Cloud risked opening one eye and caught a glimpse of the computer screen across the room. He could hear Sora bumbling around in the kitchen, humming to himself in some terribly adorable, terribly Sora sort of fashion, taking his dear sweet time in getting an ice pack ready for his suffering brain-dead buddy in the other room. But Cloud found he didn't even need to draw upon any hidden reserve of compassion to forgive Sora's idle, lazy nature.

Instead, he headed over to the computer, fingers resting upon the keyboard, head pounding, nose throbbing, mind completely not functioning. No better conditions for severely freestyle poetry, Cloud thought. And so he began to type...

'yekkayekkatay yekkayekka tquinge, trohxe, mdidole.

yekkarefka, yekkaiwond, stufkeo nud

quoshoopy!'

"Whatcha writing?" Sora asked peering over Cloud's shoulder, going on as thought it was the most normal thing in the world for Cloud to have taken over his computer with his blitzball-beaned thoughts. He handed the ice pack to Cloud, who grinned in thanks and nodded towards the screen, fingertips of one hand still poking idly at the keyboard.

"It's poetry," he explained. "Well, sort of. Read it out loud. Don't hesitate, just read it. It's fun, I promise."

Squinting at the words one the screen, Sora wrinkled his nose and couldn't help but ask, "Is this French?"

"Hah, no way. Far from it. They're non-words."

"Non-words?"

"The idea is that you're supposed to make them mean whatever you want them to mean. Go on, read it."

"...Um. Yeh-kah-yeh-kah-kah-tah-whatta-- what the heck? How is this poetry?"

"You just gotta practice reading it. You'll get the hang of it. It's actually kind of fun, writing and reading it, I mean. Once you get used to it. It just takes some getting used to."

"...You sure you don't have a concussion?"

"Perfectly lucid, as always."

"Huh. ...Well what's that one mean? What's 'quoshoopy'? What's it mean?"

"Whatever you want it to. Make up a definition. It's different for everybody-- or not. I don't know. That's the thing about words. People assign such specific meanings to them. They do it so often, they forget what exactly it is that makes something so unique-- it just becomes routine."

"...Like what?"

"Like... sea-horses. If you didn't know what a sea-horse was called, you could look at it without thinking, 'Oh, I know what that is. That's just a sea-horse. Who cares?' You could look at it like it was something completely new. That's why language sucks sometimes. It cripples us like that. It makes things boring."

"..."

"..."

"...I think you need to lie down."

x x x

Kairi had never had that much of a problem shopping with Riku. The guy had good taste, a powerful eye for bargains, and enough endurance to make it around the mall three times and still be up for lunch afterwards. But there was something about the guy dressing her in a rather questionable pair of pants and studded belts that just bothered Kairi for some unknown reason.

"Riku, these are leather."

"Your point?"

"I am so not doing the butch thing."

"Come ooo-on. Just try it! I'll buy you some of that god-awful fat-free frozen yogurt you love so much if you do."

"...Give me those."

"...Hmmm. No, something's not quite right. Let's see. You need a flatter chest, Kai. Definitely. That's the problem."

"...Excuse me?"

"Maybe ruffle your hair out some. You know. More wild. Sexy-like."

"...What?"

Yes, shopping with Riku was bound to have its tiresome moments. But Kairi hadn't been expecting it to go quite so badly...

"You know, maybe your lack of sexual activity ties into the fact that you were never sexually attracted to Sora."

"Shut up, Riku. Of course I was sexually attracted to Sora."

"You could be a closeted lesbian."

"I like boys, Riku."

"So do I. That's why I sleep with them. So come off it, Kairi-- how come you never slept with Sora? Did you really find him that attractive? Ooh, a better question, do you really find me attractive?"

"You're gay!"

"Gay may once have been a synonym for happy, sweetie, but it's never been a synonym for oblivious. It's a test, Kairi. You're avoiding my question and only making me doubt your true heterosexuality more and more."

"Riku, stop it, okay! It's not like I wanted to break up with Sora! He broke up with me so he could be with you! It's your fault!"

"...Cool it, sweetheart, we're in public."

"How can you be so uncaring!"

And she had thought it would get better, that both of them had just woken up grumpy and would come to their senses in time. But it didn't get better. It got progressively worse and Kairi couldn't help but feel guilty. Mostly because she found herself having to smother the urge to explode, to punch, kick, or otherwise maim her supposed best friend.

"It's not like I asked for Sora to break up with you, you know. Don't get mad at me."

"Riku, you're saying he broke up with me because I wouldn't have sex with him!"

"...I said that?"

"Well you sure as hell implied as much!"

"Oh. I've never heard you curse so much before."

"It's called being upset!"

And that was how the two of them had come to a standstill on the stairway, people pushing past them, hurried and annoyed, Kairi looked at Riku and Riku looking at Kairi.

"I thought you were over him. I thought you guys were okay again?"

Narrowing her eyes, Kairi drew her mouth into a bitter little frown, snapping, "We are, but we aren't. We, as in the three of us. Where's Sora, Riku? Why isn't he here with us? When was the last time you saw him by yourself? Didn't you guys always used to hang out?"

"Well, yeah."

"So since he told you how he felt, you haven't made any effort to see him at all, have you? And since he broke up with me, I haven't made any effort to him either. We cut Sora off and now we're ready to strangle each other."

"Uh, I don't feel the urge to strangle you."

"Well I feel the urge to strangle you."

"I'm not understanding."

"Riku, we need to see other people!"

"...Kairi. I don't mean to alarm you, but we were never together."

"No, Riku. I'm serious. We can't hang around each other all the time anymore or we're going to kill each other. Or I'm going to kill you or something!" Completely oblivious to the alarmed looks of fellow shoppers, Kairi forced her scowl away, trying so hard to stay calm. "Look," she said. "You're driving me insane. You're completely burning me out. Are you still fighting with Leon?'

"What makes you ask that."

"You are. Okay. Listen. Please. I'm begging you. Go patch things up with him. Please. For both of us. I love you dearly, you're one of my best friends, and you know I love spending time with you, but this is just overkill and it's driving me nuts."

"Are you PMSing or something, Kairi? God, this is why I can't stand women."

"Riku--"

"I mean, if it's not the cuddling or the constant need for flowers and kisses, it's got to be the effing PMS."

"RIku."

"If you think about it, women spend a fourth of their years when they're really, I mean 'really' sexually active-- they spend a fourth of those years out of commission, busy with--"

"That is IT. Give me that!" Before poor Riku knew what had hit him, his cute little striped shoe bag was gone, the precious box and the precious sneakers inside gone too. Not my Vans! No!

"What the heck kind of friend are you!"

"One who values her sanity! Now you are going to go talk to Leon today, or these are going down the kitchen disposal." Kairi shook the bag in her hand violently for emphasis, making Riku cringe as heard the captive shoes jostling from wall to wall of their cardboard-and-plastic prison.

"You wouldn't," he choked out.

"Do you really want to risk it, Riku? Think about it. Oh, and while you're thinking about it, don't think you can go pretend to talk to Leon and come back later to get your shoes. Trust me. I'll know if you've talked to him or not. Women's intuition and all that. And if you try and lie? Guess what I'll do."

"I hate you."

"I will tie you to a chair, prop your eyelids open with toothpicks, and make you watch while these shoes go into the sink. Slowly. Painfully. Got it?"

"You're fucking insane."

"And I'm fucking serious, too. Now go talk to your boyfriend."

"Kairi!" But she was gone, disappeared into the crowd...

"He is not my boyfriend!" And she had Riku's shoes with her.

"God, I hate women!"

x x x

In the back of Riku's small house was an even smaller house-- an old summer home that had come with the property. The old thing had actually proven to be remarkably useful in keeping a huge stockpile of ceramics in storage, kept safe for summer, when the tourist season's explosion brought Riku more than enough customers to keep him set throughout the rest of the year. His basement was his studio, his summer home his storage space. On more than one occasion, it had occurred to Riku that he could very well be a slave to clay.

Later that evening, tugging the cord centered in the makeshift storage house, Riku plunged the room into darkness, closing the door behind him as he stepped out into the night, one lone vase tucked under his arm. A very strange thought struck him as he stood for a moment, somewhere between one door and the next. His eyes traveled to his neighbor's lot, lying just over the hedge, and his mind began to drift, ever so slowly.

Weird how I never really see that much of who lives there. Damn nice car. Guess that requires one hell of a job to maintain.

...Still. With several lights glowing warmly from the upper-story windows, it was hard for Riku to not be curious now that he was dead set on the idea. Shifting the weight of the clay vase so it lay more securely in his arms, Riku set his jaw stubbornly and strode across the mere ten yards separating him from the mysterious house next door.

...Of course, once it occurred to him that there was still a hedge in his way, he began to have his doubts.

I'm not some goddamn Hardy boy for crying out loud. Scaling privacy shrubs and peeping through unknown windows? Hardly classy. But then again... That car of their is classy. And if the owner of the car is classy enough... Hm, I detect a plan. Congratulations, self. Once again, you prove your brilliance.

Rather than choosing to set his beloved pottery on the ground, where it would most certainly meet an untimely little end, Riku curled it in towards his chest as he barreled through the hedge in what must have been the most idiotic scheme he'd yet come up with. But he'd seen them do it in the movies-- all those real swell spy movies where ninjas burst through hedge mazes and sever the heads of their unsuspecting victims. It was with a great deal of un-ninja-like cursing that Riku made it across to the other side, nasty little scratches dancing up and down his arms, twigs in his hair and threads poking free from his clothing.

...But miracle of miracles, the vase was still intact!

The backyard was dead silent, but perfectly groomed-- that much was obvious, even in the shade of dark the night provided. A sliding glass door was situated beneath one of the lighted windows-- beside it, a small, decorative stone fountain built onto the side of the house, turned off and empty of any water whatsoever. Inlaid bricks lined a neat, weed-free flower garden, stretching clear from one end of the property to the other. Needless to say, it wasn't exactly like anything Riku had been expecting, seeing as most of the homes in the neighborhood were little family bungalows with owners who had no time for landscaping.

Curiosity-- or some not-so-distant cousin of it-- began prickling at the back of Riku's mind, the very same sort which had driven him through the hedge to the other side in the first place. Vase securely tucked beneath one arm, Riku squared his jaw and strode as confidently as he could over to the dry little stone fountain. Hah, hardly a challenge for the great Riku. Get real. What moron put this lame-ass thing here? Perfect for me, perfect for burglars.

With his one free, hand, Riku managed to make his wake scrambling and almost slipping up the side of the fountain. Perched on the very top little disk, he could just grab onto the windowsill above and peer over the edge.

The room was, much like the house's exterior, flawlessly crafted, beautifully organized, and, to Riku's delight, elegantly decorated in only the richest color scheme he'd ever seen. A vast wardrobe stretched across one wall, doors ribbed with a deep red fabric over polished cherry wood, intricately carved and, judging by the looks of it, one heck of an expensive antique. A crimson carpet, golden bedspread laced with embroidered flowers-- Good lord, these people must be fucking rich!

Then Riku's eyes finally caught on to a brighter glow. Not the ornate little bedside lamps, but just one light coming through an half-open doorway in the back of the room. A woman's slip hung off the doorknob, white, lacy, and just as annoying as Riku remembered slips being. A shadow came from inside the bathroom, moving as whoever it was did whatever it was they were doing.

So Riku shouldn't really have been as surprised as he was when the figure of a woman appeared seconds later, hairbrush in hand, moving swiftly, deftly through her hair with smooth strokes as she proceeded to cross her bedroom floor. No, Riku really shouldn't have been surprised at all. But he was. Not by the woman's presence, but simply by her... absolutely stunning appearance.

Riku had never seen a woman so beautiful in his entire life. That one shocking conclusion he came to was indeed enough to surprise him.

In fact, he was so surprised that he actually jolted away from the window, vase tumbling out of his grasp just as he tumbled from the top of the little stone fountain. Down both went, and in the split second before he hit the ground, Riku heard the shatter of ceramics and he cursed gravity at all its nine-point-eight Newtons of force. Damn you straight to hell! was followed by a thud, a scream, and then, a whimper.

However, Riku was not surprised when the window above him slid open and a curious little head popped out. No, he was just embarrassed. ...Embarrassed, and in absolute agony. Nonetheless, he managed to tack on a slightly lopsided grin and force out a half-hearted, classy greeting.

"Hey babe."

"Hello."

Clearing his throat, Riku pulled himself to his feet, ignoring his body's screams of protest at the movement. He nodded, he smiled, he played along like nothing was wrong. He said, "Kinda like Romeo and Juliet, huh? This is where I-- I'm Romeo, so I say a little something that goes like, 'You and me, babe, how about it?' And now you, you're so Juliet, so you go, 'Hey, it's Romeo! You nearly gave me a heart attack, kid!' But you don't care 'cause hey-la, your boyfriend's back underneath your window!"

Covering her mouth and laughing quite prettily, the woman quirked an amused little smile and said, "You know, you really ought not to come around in the middle of the night shouting up at people like that."

Riku simply grinned, flinging both arms out to his sides in an exaggerated shrug. "Ah well. Anyway, whatcha gonna do about it?"

"Not much, I don't think. And you are?"

"Your crazy neighbor. You been here a long time and I've never seen you before now. How come? You live some super top-secret kind of undercover life?"

With her elbows resting on the windowsill and her arms dangling over the edge, Riku could catch just the slightest glimpse of cleavage from the swooping curve of the woman's neckline. Some silky kind of nightgown, by the looks of it. Unsurprisingly, the view did nothing for Riku, but he still could not manage to alter his initial opinion-- yes, she was still unbelievably beautiful, whoever the hell she was. Snapped out of his puzzled stupor, Riku looked up as the woman let out a small sound, something that could've easily been mistaken for a sigh as her smile wavered.

"No top secret life here. It's just that I'm not planning on staying forever. It's just business."

"Pfft, these days no one stays around forever anyhow."

A warm sort of silence fell between them, caught in the space above Riku's head and beneath the woman's arms. Riku took the time to breathe in-- he thought he caught a very soft scent of perfume, but could've been mistaken. After a very long and quiet moment, the woman spoke again, this time her voice actually laced with concern.

"Are you bleeding?"

Looking down at his hands, Riku's eyes bulged as he took in the sight of dripping blood. Rather than fainting, as he half expected himself to, he simply laughed it off. "Oh, you mean this? Yeah, just a little cut, nothing big." He held out both hands and waved them around slightly, trying to emphasize his point but only succeeding in making his poor hands throb with a dull and steady pain.

"...You have blood all over you."

"I bleed excessively."

"I can see that."

Cocking her head to one side inquisitively, the woman leaned out of her window just slightly, peering down at Riku and saying, "You know, maybe you're a murderer and you've just finished killing somebody. Maybe that blood isn't even really yours at all."

Riku smirked. "Could be," he said.

"If that's the case, what I should do is invite you in very politely and clean your wounds for you. That way if the blood washes off with no cuts beneath, I'll know you killed someone and can call the police."

"Well I guess that'd be a pretty sensible kind of thing to do."

"Good. Now that we're in agreement on that, you're more than welcome to come inside. I'll be right down."

Obediently, Riku did as he was told. The basement floor of the house appeared to be a work in progress still, most of it piled high with luggage cases, garment bags and cardboard boxes-- some labeled, some not. He could hear some distant patter of footsteps above him, some drawer somewhere opening, then closing, then more footsteps. He started over towards a nearby sofa, then stopped, not wanting to bleed all over the poor woman's furniture.

It was strange when she first came down the stairs, really. Riku hadn't been entirely sure what to expect, but her hair loose and trailing down well past her hips was... definitely not something he'd expected. She wore no slippers, no jewelry, just that simple silk nightgown. In one hand was a bottle of disinfectant, in the other, a package of gauze and bandages. ...Somehow they had a way of making the entire situation seem just a bit more believable.

Especially when the disinfectant came in contact with his his skin. Ow.

If the woman picked up on just how much pain she was causing Riku, she chose not to mention it. She chose not to mention much of anything for several minutes, actually, busying herself with cleaning up cuts and drowning them in the burning liquid that nearly had her dearest neighbor screaming his dearest head off. Instead, he bit his lip and shut himself up, only easing when she spoke.

"You have a very strange way of getting to meet new people," the woman said, not looking up from Riku's hand held in hers, the gauze gently pulling away all the blood, revealing a series of nice red gashes beneath. She shook her head slightly, looking all the more like a mother about ready to lecture the living daylights out of a troublesome son.

Riku, in turn, looked all the more like a discolored cabbage as he fought the urge to be sick. Ugh... so much blood... Blegh.

"Well... You're not so normal about it, yourself. Most normal people wouldn't let a stranger into their house in the middle of the night if they were covered in blood."

She laughed at this, reaching over onto the coffee table and taking a roll of bandages in hand, stretching it out between her fingers and looking at it thoughtfully. Her question came abruptly, awkwardly-- but even then, Riku still found himself unable to think any less of her. "Have you ever noticed that doing spontaneous things always gives you something to think about the day after?" she asked.

"What kind of spontaneous things...?"

"Like taking in a bloody stranger claiming to be your neighbor. Like peering in through someone's window and then serenading them in the middle of the night."

"...Ohh. Those kinds of spontaneous things."

"What did you think I was talking about?"

"Sex."

One corner of her mouth quirked upwards into a little half smile, her fingers busily wrapping the bandage around one of Riku's maimed hands. The wounds were obvious now that the blood was gone-- nasty red things that Riku couldn't believe were actually on his perfect skin. Stupid vase. Stupid fountain. But he was snapped back into focus by the woman's words as she said, "No. I wasn't talking about that."

"Why not?"

"Because...? I... don't regularly practice sexual intercourse as a means of spontaneity."

"Really?"

"Are you always so forward?"

Riku grinned as she finished wrapping the second hand, his fingers twitching experimentally inside the cloth. "Being forward gets me what I want," he said. The woman looked up, locked eyes with him, and promptly, abruptly rose to her feet and crossed the room. "Hey, don't get mad! I was just telling the truth! I'm not trying to come on to you or anything, I swear. I'm gay!" Riku insisted.

As she came to rest by the sliding glass door, the woman looked back over her shoulder. She replied easily, calmly, simply, "I could tell."

"So why'd you go all huffy on me?"

"You really are quite forward."

"Well somebody's gotta be." The silence was there again, but it wasn't quite so warm as it had been. She looked out the glass door and he looked on after her, puzzled, and somehow getting the sinking feeling that the new, colder form of silence was his fault. Clearing his throat, Riku tried to break it. "Hey, won't that Asian guy, um, your husband, uh... get mad?"

"...Husband?" The woman turned to look back at him again, confused this time, but only for a minute. Right before she smiled and laughed, all silence-- cold or otherwise-- now gone. "Oh! You must be thinking of Mr. Tigi."

"He's not your husband?"

"No, of course not! He's my agent."

"Agent? I thought you didn't lead some super top-secret life!"

"I don't."

"Hey, I know it's gonna sound really forward and all that, but, ah... how come a pretty girl like you isn't married?"

"I am." She brushed a long strange of hair behind her ear, pursing her lips slightly and choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes I just forget. My husband lives overseas. I don't see him very often."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Why? It's not so bad at all. We're more like... acquaintances, actually. Our marriage was for different reasons."

"That's awful."

"Not really."

"...Huh. You're really something else."

"What makes you say that?"

Arching his back and leaning into the overstuffed couch, Riku closed his eyes, smiling lazily and recalling, recalling, recalling aaall the reasons he couldn't stand most of womankind. "Most girls go crazy thinking about a loveless kinda life. But you don't seem to have a problem with it. Belieeeve you me, it's a serious compliment. A good thing with all the stupid girly drama I've been surrounded by lately. Sheesh. A nice change, you know? Someone who doesn't care, just like me."

"But didn't you say you were homosexual?"

"Uh, yeah, but that doesn't mean I care."

"Oh. ...Oh, I'm sorry. I understand." She laughed nervously-- it caught Riku off guard. But she clearly thought nothing of it, nodding along, her fingers twisting together, suddenly nervous, suddenly terribly out of place. She was almost... babbling, but she tried to cover it up with manners and good humor. "Listen, it's getting awfully late. Now that I know I don't live next to a murderer, I'm sure I'll be able to sleep much easier than before."

Riku laughed right along with her, noticing the sudden change in mood-- how could he not?-- but deciding not to call her on it. Instead he just smiled warmly and got to his feet, thanking the woman for the bandages, the disinfectant, and the damn stone fountain that had just looked oh-so-inviting upon first glance.

"Perhaps you could stop by again some time...?"

"Riku."

"Riku. It was a pleasure meeting you. I'm Aerith, by the way. Aerith Gainsborough."

Upon leaving Aerith's house, a very strange feeling came over Riku. It was one he was quite familiar with, but one that he couldn't figure out at that particular moment in time.

Why, after just having had a rather bizarre conversation about sex, blood, and marriage, would he want to go get laid? Even for Riku, such a question provided him with a terrible, terrible puzzle,

Nevertheless, Riku had never been one to deny his libido. After making his way back to his own front door, his hand hovered above the doorknob for half a moment before retreating back to his side. Hmm. Pride versus sex. ...Pride... sex. ...Priiide. ...Sex. Someone should write a book. 'Pride and Sex'. Amazing. Well, one day, I will. In the meantime. Sex. Easy enough.

All it took was a simple twist of the key in the ignition, a few turns of the steering wheel, a few stop signs easily ignored, and there Riku was. Right outside Leon's house. ...Leon's dark, cold, and very lonely looking house. Quite the opposite of where he'd been only moments ago, yet Riku couldn't bring himself to complain, even in his own head. He knew that Leon was still awake-- had to be somewhere behind those walls. And, with any luck, he had to be suffering just as much as poor Riku was himself.

Pride versus Sex: The Road to Victory! ...No, too corny. It needs work.

Riku knocked politely on the front door, taking the time to observe the empty flower boxes, the newspaper still sitting on the stoop. Had he not been so confident in Leon's routine self, he would've instantly jumped to the horrid conclusion that Leon had skipped town, too, leaving him just like Selphie had left poor Tidus.

The rumor mill was having a ball with that one. Poor Tidus. That bitch. Stupid females. No sense. Especially the shoe-stealing females. Good lord.

This thought was followed by another sharp knock on the door, Riku then burying his fists in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. It occurred to him that he should probably wonder at what the hell he was thinking-- was he doing this for that pair of shoes Kairi was holding hostage? Ooor was he doing it because he was suddenly finding himself craving the physical worship he thought he'd deserved from the newly discovered neighbor chick?

Yeah, what the hell was up with her anyhow? You'd think she was a flippin' nun the way she went on. Chastity, chastity, chastity! Chastity can kiss my ass.

At that moment, the door swung back on its hinges, revealing the ominous darkness behind it. Quite literally, as well. Every light in Leon's house appeared to be off, but there was the open door as proof.

"Leon?"

"Riku."

The two stood there awkwardly for all of half a moment before Riku leaned forward, resting one hand on the doorway while grinning cockily. "Can I come in or what?" he asked. He heard Leon step to the side, he saw the door open just a little more. That was all he needed. In he went, right up to his ears and beyond in darkness, the only light provided by what the streetlights could manage to get through the door along with him.

Clearly, it was enough light for Leon to take in Riku's form, seeing as the next words out of Leon's mouth were stumbled out with surprise, concern, and something that sounded vaguely like annoyance.

"Riku... Your... wrists...?"

Raising a quizzical silver brow, Riku looked down at his hands, catching an eyeful of bloodstained bandages himself. It took him a few seconds to put one and the other together, but once he'd done so he couldn't help but snort rudely and roll his eyes. "Oh get real, you asshole! Like I'd tear myself up over you!"

Leon's shoulders slumped slightly-- relaxed. "What do you want?" he asked. Not demanding, not angry. Just Leon. Just plain old cool and collected Leon.

"Do you want me to give you a polite answer or a real answer?"

"...It doesn't matter."

"Okay then."

Glancing away from Leon's darkened face for a moment, Riku's eyes fell upon the box held in the other man's hands. He couldn't quite make out the contents of it, but whatever it was seemed to be weightless in Leon's grasp. For all Riku knew, the box could've been perfectly empty.

"I thought you were still angry," Leon said.

"You thought wrong."

"..."

Smirking slyly, Riku cocked his head to on side, hair falling over his shoulders. He knew the light was still on his side, even in the darkness like he was. He knew Leon saw the movement and he sure as heck knew that Leon liked whatever it was he saw. He always did. So Riku leaned forward once more, resting his hand on Leon's arm, fingertips just barely grazing the surface of the box he held.

"I don't care if you don't love me, Leon. I don't care if you don't know me. Hell, I don't even care if you don't like me. Does that work for you? You're a cold, heartless bastard. I can be one, too."

There was a dull thud as Riku was slammed against the wall, a loud clatter, smash, slam as the box fell to the floor, its contents scattered across the hardwood. Hands on his wrists, he was pinned to the surface, staring straight up into stormy grey with as much strength, as much anger as he could muster. If he had really wanted to, it wouldn't have been that hard for Riku to escape, really. All it would take would be a simple blow to Leon's most vulnerable area and a swift shove after that-- home free with little to no effort.

But rather than jabbing his knee upwards, sharp and painful, Riku simply slid his leg forward, resting his thigh between Leon's legs, soft and sensual. The grip on his wrists instantly loosened, like some sort of charm had been worked. Yet no sooner did Riku try and move his arms from the wall were they firmly clamped back down, just as his mouth was sealed his Leon's in a brutal, scorching kiss. Any anger left in him, Riku poured into that contact-- he drowned in it, he felt the air being sucked out of him as his arms strained, his neck strained, his tongue strained-- all to get closer to Leon, all to try and express the thing he mistook for hatred.

He made a break for air but was stopped short, cut off once again by that mouth, that damn mouth. He never resisted, he just gave in. He just went without air, pressing insistently against the body in front of him, well aware of the friction and the heat, the way Leon's body responded so familiarly. Leon's chest pressed against his, Leon's hands sliding forcefully down Riku's arms, nails dragging in their wake, leaving ribbons of bruises all the way down to Riku's chest. Panting, yeah, heaving and gasping for air he didn't want-- yeah, that too.

Giddy with pleasure and guilt, Riku could only grin childishly when those hands reached his waist, moved towards his backside and scooped him upwards with ease into those arms-- his arms wrapping around those shoulders, his mouth descending upon that neck with a vicious biting vengeance that drew a ragged breath from his lover. His actions were undoubtedly his own, but he couldn't help feeling possessed as he drove his hips against Leon's, wildly brushing up against him, pushing up against him, writhing in his arms and remaining, still, giddy and guilty.

x x x

The knock on Kairi's apartment door came at around eleven o'clock, and she wasn't at all surprised when she opened it to reveal a certain silver-haired somebody on the other side.

"You fix things up between you and Leon?" she asked.

"Mmhm." Shoving arrogantly past Kairi, Riku immediately honed in on his one little cardboard box, situated alone on Kairi's island counter. Obviously, Kairi had indeed had the faith that Riku would do as she'd instructed, that he would be a good, decent friend and do this one thing for her when she really didn't ask for all that much on a regular basis. But right away, his behavior worried her.

"...Riku...?"

"What, you wanna check me and see if we made up all right?"

"...What happened?"

Riku ran his fingertips delicately over the surface of the shoe-box before picking it up gently in his arms, turning back towards Kairi. "You wanna know what happened?" he asked. His tone was off, somehow, forced in all the wrong places, weak in all the wrong places.

"Well yeah, I mean, I am a little worried. You're acting--" Kairi's words died on her tongue as Riku suddenly bent down forward, his mouth against her ear, his breath smelling of something hot and bitter and completely alien to Kairi's senses.

"We fucked like crazy, Kairi," Riku whispered. "Standing up against the wall. You know. Like horses. Horses fuck standing up, too."

All she could do was stare, her look falling somewhere between disgust and absolute horror. Kairi's appalled reaction seemed to satisfy Riku, a wicked smirk settling across his face as he hissed, "Don't be such a prude, Kai. So naive. You need to get laid. Hire a hooker. Do yourself a favor."

Though she heard the door close almost immediately after that little encounter, Kairi still remained fixated to the floor for several minutes after-- still shocked, still rattled beyond all belief. There was no way that had just been her Riku saying all those things. There was no way that had just... happened. Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, Kairi found herself fighting that annoying urge to cry once again.

And that was when the phone rang.

"H-hello?"

"Kairi?"

"Oh--! Ah, M-Ms. Gainsborough!"

"Are you alright, Kairi? I'm so sorry for calling this late. Is this a terribly bad time?"

"N-no, no, it's fine! Um, what can I do for you?"

"I'm so sorry, I feel absolutely awful... Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, really."

"...Well, there's a bit of a problem. It's a horrible problem, actually. The fundraiser-- the event I need the gown for... It's been moved forward by two weeks."

"What?"

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry. This has all been one terrible mistake. The scheduling and the... I understand if there's no way you can get the design done in time and I will still pay you in full, as promised. I really do apologize for--"

"I can do it."

"Pardon?"

"I can get the design done by then. And I know some girls at the company who would be more than willing to help out with actually putting the dress together."

"Really? Are you sure? It's not too much trouble?"

"No, it's not. It's fine."

"Oh Kairi, this is excellent! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Ms. Gainsborough."

"Please, call me Aerith. Haven't I told you?"

"Um, I'm not sure."

"Well, I prefer Aerith. Now then. What can I do to possibly make this easier for you?"

"Well... I still need a few more measurements. I have some concept sketches, but they're not much. Still, if I could get your input on some of them..." Sniffling slightly, Kairi mentally patted herself on the back for not having a complete breakdown over the phone. Hooray for decent client relationships. She sat down at the island counter and sifted through a stack of magazines and papers, coming to her sketchbook where Aerith's spindly figure graced the surface several times over.

Nodding to herself, Kairi added, "I could have almost a completed design by tomorrow afternoon, I think. Then it's just a matter of getting it to the company."

Through the earpiece came a delighted, airy laugh that somehow made Kairi's head spin, especially when paired along with Aerith's ecstatic words. "Kairi, you're amazing! This is why I hired you. You're splendid. Just like she said!"

Kairi blinked. "...Just like who said?"

"The woman who recommended me to you! I met her... just a brief passing, really, I'm not entirely sure who she was. You designed her wedding dress and she had it with her in the airport."

Wedding... dress...?

"What? I-I'm sorry, Aerith, but um... I've only designed one wedding dress..." And in that split second, Kairi was completely broadsided by two separate little truths: one being Aerith's honest-as-the-day-is-long words, and the other being Tidus' apparent return to bachelordom, as told by Sora. No way.

Swallowing thickly, Kairi stumbled along awkwardly, asking, "...Did this woman... erm... Did she give you her name? What did she look like?"

"I'm sorry, but the only name she gave me was yours. I was sitting near her in the coffee shop waiting for my flight to come in-- Mr. Tigi was off taking care of our luggage and this girl needed somewhere to sit, somewhere to put her things. And that wedding dress of hers was in a clothing bag, one of the transparent plastic ones. We started talking for a few minutes, and that's how I heard you'd designed her dress for her."

"But what'd she look like? I'm sorry, Ms.-- Er, I'm sorry, Aerith, it's just that... What'd she look like?"

"Very small? Brown hair, I believe. Quite charming, though her hairstyle seemed a bit out of place. It was... one of those styles very popular in America during the 60's. The one where it flips out about your shoulders? I'm sorry, Kairi. I wish I could be more helpful, but I can't really remember much else..."

"I see..." Kairi's fingers clenched slightly around the receiver as she closed her eyes, trying desperately to process everything. Selphie left the country? There's no way... That's so not like her. Maybe it's not even Selphie... Maybe the girl was just confused. But it's not like I really know that many people with that hair and... Oh man. "Listen, it's late, but... It wouldn't take too long, I don't think. Are you too tired to finish the measurements tonight?"

"Not at all. I'll be right over. Oh! In fact, that's perfect! I have someone I want you to meet..."

And that half-dead feeling that had been hanging over Kairi's head all day finally dissipated into oblivion. She had a feeling that things were about to head downhill at a very rapid pace.

Shit.

(x) (x) (x)

Weeell, Leon and Riku are apparently far more dysfunctional than I'd planned on. 'Magine that. Hope this progressing 'relationship' of theirs doesn't bump the rating up to R. Hrrm. We'll seeeee, we'll seeeee. Hopefully this made up for the serious lack of Riku's character development so far. I've gotta figure out a better way to balance out the fic here... On the bright side, it could mean slightly longer chapters?

Riku's little Romeo speech is inspired by the Indigo Girls' song, 'Romeo and Juliet.' Another big shock, that one.