Chapter nine is up! The cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter was really unintentional. Heh. Again, I don't really have any special notes about this one, except there may be a few really long sentences in here. Sorry. As usual, I don't own, so don't sue.

Riku's eyebrows shot up, and his mouth hung open. He was no stranger to his father's drinking habits; he had seen and heard him do multiple things that were less than legal, but he had never expected his father's alcohol problem to reach this level. "Did you—"

His father held up a hand. "No, I didn't kill him. He had a small fracture in his leg, and a heavily bruised abdomen, but I didn't know that while I was in jail."

Riku sank back into the couch, fully disgusted.

"It made me think," he cleared his throat. "About how I've been living, and what I've been doing. I'm not proud of much." He paused again and rubbed the stubble around his chin. "I kind of wanted to start over."

Riku fiddled with his hands absently. So it took almost killing a man to get him to change his life around? Riku knew close to nothing about his father's activities up until now, but a small part of him wished he had changed, at least a little. It never occurred to him that he had gotten worse. For all of these years, he had been out roaming the streets, getting into trouble, possibly winding up in jail multiple times before this incident. So nothing good had happened to him since he left? He was just now starting to change himself? Riku was positively convinced at this point that the man wanted money. He played along anyway.

"So you decided to start with me? Reconcile our relationship, or something."

"Actually, no." He drummed his fingers on his knees. "I sort of wanted to start it with your mother. I um...I called her while I was in there."

Riku would admit that he was a little startled by this. "Oh..."

"I don't really know why I wanted to, but I did. She says hi."

"...How is she?" He tried to make himself sound a little more eager, but wasn't sure if he was successful. His mother's activities were no longer his concern.

"She's doing well. She's happy. Got a new husband, takes care of his kids." He ran a hand through his hair, and cracked what seemed to be a smile for the first time that afternoon. "To tell you the truth, the whole conversation just pissed me off. I don't think I'll ever get over that woman."

He paused again, and Riku waited for him to continue. He stole a glance at his father's face while he was looking down. He didn't look like a man who wanted money. There were more emotions flickering around on that face than he had ever seen before, but none of them were of greed...

"We talked for a while, about us, about the past. But it was when she asked me how you were that I really understood how badly I messed up."

He looked at Riku squarely in the face, and Riku reflexively avoided his eyes.

His father continued. "I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell her how you were, because I had no idea. I didn't know where you were, how you were doing, or if you were still breathing. It was the weirdest feeling, sitting there on the phone with your mom. I couldn't even lie to her; there was nothing to lie for." He paused again, and let out a heavy sigh. "She told me to go find you. I said some other things, but..." he glanced at the ceiling, "What I said isn't really important. Anyway, when my lawyer came, I asked him to find out where you were, I wrote you a letter, and then sent it. That was about the time I found out the guy I hit wasn't actually dead."

All Riku could say was "Oh." It seemed like a rather stupid and inappropriate expression at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more. Then he felt his father's hands on his shoulders, and he nearly flew out of the chair. The grip was firm, but not painful, and he felt his fingers flex tentatively over his muscles. When had he moved? The conversation hadn't reached a violent level, but Riku felt like he was about to be thrown across the room. He squeezed his eyes closed.

"Riku, look at me." He gave his shoulders a small shake, and Riku thought he was about to come apart. "I want us to be like we're supposed to. None of this 'estranged' stuff. I'm here, you're here. It'll be good, I just know it will. Look at me. Come on, look at me."

But Riku couldn't even get his eyes to open, let alone look up.

"Listen, I understand if you don't believe me, but could you at least—"

"It's…it's not that. I just…can't."

XxX

Sora was overwhelmed with the scent of coffee and chocolate. He had half expected the small café to be overloaded to the point where he would be pushed out onto the sidewalk, but he was pleasantly surprised that he had missed the morning rush of customers. A few people dotted the tables, and a few more stood at the counter, but the store was relatively empty.

A lone boy swept up the crumpled up napkins and spilled coffee, while sporting a rather sour expression. Sora chose to sit in one of the tables farthest from him.

He felt a bit giddy, as he settled himself into one of the iron framed chairs. He felt like he was treading into some private sanctuary, a place somewhat personal to his roommate (forgetting the fact that it was a café open to the general public). Granted, the space wasn't nearly as personal as Riku's bedroom, and he didn't really have that all too familiar feeling of being some place he probably shouldn't be without permission, but he felt privileged all the same.

He glanced out the window at the steadily increasing amount of rain outside. It was undoubtedly going to be a mess trying to get out of there. He had gotten here with his clothing more or less in tact, but when he left, he feared his attire would suffer. Horrific images of mud stained shoes and drenched clothing flashed through his mind, and he grimaced. Given his current experiences in laundry, the damage was probably going to be permanent. Any normal person would have gone to get an umbrella, but no he just had to rush out of the apartment without one, or a grocery list, or any other sort of helpful item. A cross word puzzle would have been particularly welcomed, for instance. He could have brought a newspaper. He supposed he could always just buy one, assuming of course he remembered to bring some…

The grimace quickly turned into a look of absolute fury. He could stand no newspaper, no crossword, and even--as ridiculous as it sounded—an umbrella, but he would absolutely, under no circumstances stay in this café one second longer if he didn't have any money in his wallet. He would apologize to Riku later, but if he didn't even have a dollar to his name, he would rush home to get some money, no matter if he interrupted some joyous father-son game of Monopoly or not.

He rummaged around in his pocket for his wallet and quickly flipped it open. A storm of receipts flew all about, warranting a disapproving glance from the boy sweeping up the napkins a few tables away. Sora would pick them up later. He rummaged through the folds of leather and plastic, and discovered a sufficient amount of money nestled within. He let out a sigh of relief, and felt oddly like he had just disarmed a time bomb…while blindfolded.

The sweeping café employee approached Sora's table, jabbing at the receipts with his broom. He looked like he was having some sort of internal struggle over whether or not he wanted to say something. Apparently the requirements of his job won out, because before he knew it, his lips were forming a rehearsed and very forced greeting.

"Welcome to The Filter. My name's Roxas. Can I get you anything?" The latter part of the sentence was muttered so badly that it was almost unrecognizable.

Sora tapped his chin thoughtfully. He didn't even consider buying anything, as he was previously fuming over his potential lack in money. Now that it was mentioned, the idea seemed like a good one. He cast a glance towards the glass counter, sparsely occupied with desserts and coffee cakes.

"Um…well, what would you recommend?"

Roxas followed his gaze to the glass counter. "Coffee."

Sora frowned. "Well, I'm kind of hungry."

"I can put whipped cream in it if you want."

"…I was actually looking at the pastries."

"Well, there obviously aren't very many to pick from."

Sora raised an eyebrow. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get anywhere with this guy. "One would think you'd restock or something after the morning rush."

Roxas sighed and leaned on the broom. "Look, the guy that does all the baking had to take a personal day or whatever. To put it simply, I don't bake. I sweep. And I can make coffee. You can have one of the five pastries that have been sitting there since I got here this morning, or you can have coffee that's actually hot." He swept up one of the receipts. "Or tea."

"I'll take my chances." He stood up to have a look, more for the satisfaction of being cantankerous than actually wanting a pastry.

Roxas sighed again and finished his sweeping before heading behind the counter to the cash register.

Sora scanned the meager supply of baked goods. Roxas was right. He settled on a Chocolate cream Horne.

Roxas eyed him irately before snatching up a sheet of baker's tissue and setting the pastry on a plate. "That'll be three forty seven." He waited as Sora rummaged through his wallet, and then grabbed the bill without waiting for it to be handed to him. "Out of five…" he muttered, then set the appropriate amount of change on the counter. "Enjoy."

Sora had the distinct feeling that he was being dismissed, and didn't appreciate it. For the simple fact that Sora wanted to win (whatever that meant) he started up polite conversation.

"I…um…so, weather's really bad, isn't it?"

Roxas glanced at the window. "Yep. It's going to be fun walking home."

"No kidding." That's when it occurred to Sora that he very well could have taken his car. He grimaced for the umpteenth time that day. "Anyway, you said the guy that normally works here had to take a personal day off?" He stuck his finger in the cream center of the Horne and licked it off. He felt rather cleaver.

"Eh? Yeah. Don't tell my boss, but I was supposed to fill in for him in the back. But as I said earlier, I don't bake."

"So there's only one guy that does all the baking around here?"

"Beats me."

Sora rolled his eyes, and Roxas pushed the glass window back up behind the pastries. He glanced back up at Sora and decided to oblige in his sad attempts at conversation.

"I mean, there are probably more. I just know Riku."

"What, are you friends or something?"

"No."

Sora paused briefly to pluck the cherry on top off, and push it between his lips. "Then you shouldn't make a point of saying you know him. It implies that you're friends."

Roxas frowned. "What?!"

Sora didn't know what made him go that route, but for some reason, he found himself feeling oddly argumentative…and possessive. Perhaps it was just his competitive tendencies kicking in, but the thought of this Roxas person, who he already didn't like, knowing more about his roommate than he did, rubbed him the wrong way. After noting the questioning look in his face, Sora felt compelled to add. "He's my roommate, that's all."

Roxas shrugged and wiped the counter with a rag. "There's a customer behind you."

Sora noted the man behind him with faint interest, before tapping his finger on the freshly cleaned counter. He was officially in a bad mood. "You never asked me if I was finished with my order. I'd like a coffee…with whipped cream."

XxX

His father looked at him oddly. "What do you mean you can't? That doesn't make any sense." He waited for a few moments, but complete silence followed. He lifted his hands off of Riku's shoulders and sat back, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. "What's going on?"

Riku couldn't even respond.

His father sighed again, and shook his head. "You know, you really are just like your mother. You're both incredibly stubborn."

Riku hitched at this. Did he not realize that that was precisely the problem? He did not want to be compared to his mother! His father hated her, he despised her! It was her absence that caused this whole mess in the first place. Riku couldn't have cared less about her departure, but she was all his father ever thought about. Not a day had gone by in his childhood that his father didn't declare how much he truly despised that woman, and for Riku to be compared to the one thing he hated most in his life; it was absolutely shattering. He caught the figure steadily shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, and it became clear to him right then. His father would never understand. Riku couldn't explain it, and he would feel ridiculous trying to do so. He was older now. He couldn't sit around harboring these feelings, least of all express them to his father. He felt it was impossible to communicate the issue properly; perhaps he should just let it go.

He sighed stiffly, and felt the pit of his stomach heave. There was a tightness in his chest, and a pressure he had never felt before weighing down upon him. He slid his eyes over to his right and slowly up his father's bicep and around the curve of his shoulder. He was nearing the point of becoming violently ill as his gaze made it to his neckline. His collarbone was hidden by the dark flaps of his collar, and he could see the shadowy outline of a throat. His hands were shaking at this point, and he felt nauseated and dizzy. His breath was leaving him. By the time his eyes reached the stubble of his father's chin, he thought he was going to fall apart. He never knew that his old habit could debilitate him so. Riku gulped as he saw his father's lips, nose, and finally the dark circles permanently etched under his eyelids.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

There was nothing abnormal about his father's eyes. They were simple and dark brown in color, perhaps a bit bloodshot and yellowed, but there wasn't anything mean or hateful about them. He expected to see his entire childhood violently flash within them. He expected to find scorn and rage. But there was nothing. There were passionless, and…normal.

Then why did he feel so completely helpless, right then? Why did he feel like a little boy shamefully sitting in the corner of his room as he listened to his father's drunken tirades downstairs, hoping that his still-missing mother would be the target of ridicule, rather than himself, and his unwanted blue eyes?

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Riku felt like his grand accomplishment had gone completely unnoticed. He had never felt so spineless and defeated as he did right then. A cold emptiness swept over him.

His father patted him lightly on the back. "Can we start over now? I know we can make it right this time."

Riku nodded limply and for a moment, felt sick of the entire thing. He was willing to just let everything go. It didn't matter anymore. He was tired of feeling this way, and he was tired of going to bed at night obsessing over his father and the visit. It was over. It was done. Whatever was supposed to happen in the future could go ahead and happen, and he wouldn't care how, just as long as the moment he was currently suspended in was over.

His father smiled and stood up. He was pleased when Riku stood up as well and followed him over to the door. He had a hard time containing his happiness. This visit had been easier than he had thought, and he was pleased.

"Riku," he started, giving his son's shoulder a shy, shake. "I…I don't know what else to say. I'm just glad we got to this point." He sized Riku up for a moment or two and felt compelled to ask him. "I know we just got together today and all, and I know we still have a lot to sort out, but…do you want to go grab a round of beers to celebrate?"