Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
Warning: I write morbid, moody, depressing, and/or angsty shit early in the morning. Oh, and the Sokairiku threesome. 'Cause trinities are love.
Other: I started this at about 2:30 AM and finished at 2:51; after a bit of adding-on and editing, I give you yet another result of insomnia.
That Was Sora
That was Sora, with the black clothes and the crisscross belts and hanging chains with glinting keychains.
That was Sora, with the too-blue eyes that spoke of happiness and joy and anguish and fear and the unruly spikes of hair that stood like mountains and thorns to protect his mind from incoming attacks.
That was Sora, walking around town just looking at all the places and people he hadn't seen in so long, everything and everyone that had forgotten him until he came back and still didn't really remember him but pretended to anyway.
That was Sora, his chest scarred from too much betrayal and his arms scarred from too many battles but his heart scarred most of all, from too much investing and rejection and acceptance, but still he kept on, being betrayed and battled and rejected and accepted.
That was Sora, hiding pain behind a cocky grin — doesn't that hurt? and not at all! — and worry behind a too-innocent, too-happy smile — everything's alright, nothing's going to go wrong, we're home now and we don't have to be concerned about the rest of the universe because I took care of it and now Mickey can.
That was Sora, who dreamed of falling off clock towers into darkness, of his friend's face becoming his enemy's, of his hands stained with the blood of a best friend he didn't know, had never known, would never know.
That was Sora, moving quickly and with determination, his hands twitching every so often and his legs tense and ready, his expression mirroring those around him but his posture betraying his concern for everything and everyone around him because he couldn't quite believe that everything could go so well.
That was Sora, who pledged allegiance to Kairi but refused to forsake one friend for another and so spent two weeks not talking to Kairi or Riku.
That was Sora, climbing out of the bed that he shared with Riku and Kairi, off to look at the bright shining stars until the dawn hid them away from his misty, reminiscing eyes.
That was Sora, sneaking off the Islands two days too soon, leaving only a note of explanation because he couldn't risk his friends' lives and would never put himself in a situation of having to choose between them or the universe.
That was Sora, with Leon's hair and Cloud's scars and Axel's sarcasm and Roxas's silence and Aerith's laughter and Yuffie's excitement, but not quite getting any of them right and not ever figuring out why.
That was Sora, who had statues built of him and built statues of his friends next to every one, only his statues were made of Riku's bravery and Kairi's innocence and Donald's skill and Goofy's loyalty and Roxas's tragedy and Naminé's compassion and Axel's last words.
That was Sora, returning home a man to his family who remembered him and his friends who scolded him and loving every minute of it more than he had loved each year he had spent away from all of them.
That was Sora, with two rings and no spouses, who would readily tell you that it was because it was better — easier, more comfortable, happier — than one spouse and two lovers.
That was Sora, a hero who attributed it all to great amounts of luck, some of the best friends in the galaxy, and several short bursts of skill and intelligence that were very heavily connected to the luck.
And that was Sora who used his own heart to protect and shield his home and those in it, without a doubt or second thought to make him pause.
That was Sora, and we all still miss him
May the universe rest in peace, if only for your sake.