AN: Hey, everybody!
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, KH: COM, Kingdom Hearts II, or any of the Final Fantasy games.
Well, let's get on with it, shall we?
Chapter 1: The Beauty and the…Cloud?
Sora couldn't believe he agreed to this. But after hours of arguing with his mother, he had finally given in. And so, here he was… Standing outside an old brick schoolhouse that had shut down long ago and reopened as a community center. This was where he was supposed to spend every Thursday for the rest of the school year? Just fucking great…
"Hello, new recruit!" the melodic voice of a female suddenly assaulted his ears, making him jump nearly three feet. "My name's Kairi! What's yours?"
He spun in the direction the voice was coming from, and standing there in the side doorway was the most stunning woman he had ever seen. She couldn't be more than twenty-five, he decided, noticing her youthful features and the local university hoodie she was wearing. One of her petite hands was in the front pocket of her dark blue jeans, the other splayed over a jutting hip. Her skin was a cream color, which slightly contrasted with her long auburn hair, but greatly complimented her sparkling blue eyes. She wasn't tall for her age, her body was curvy and thin, and Sora resisted the urge to stare at her large and perfectly shaped breasts. Don't get him wrong, he didn't want to 'check her out'. They were just… Very hard not to notice.
"…Sora," he managed to choke out, after realizing he'd been silent for too long. "Sora Kazutaki. Nice to, uh, meet you."
Don't you mean, nice to undress you with my eyes?
Shut up! She'd have to be Helen of Troy kind of beautiful to get me bothered!
Then why were you staring at her?
She just threw me off guard… I mean, religious group leaders don't generally look like that.
That's because if they did, no one would be interested in religion anymore. Know what I mean?
Hell, yeah, I know what you mean. Now… Get out of my head!
It's not my fault you're a schizo. Don't take it out on me.
Sora sighed heavily, pointedly ignoring the voice as he met gazes with Kairi again. Her eyebrows were drawn together in worry, and she had taken a step closer to him.
"Are you okay?" she questioned softly, pressing the hand that had been in her pocket to his forehead. "You were muttering to yourself."
You have to be more careful about that, you know. Your mother's gonna find out if you keep speaking aloud.
I said shut up, Skye!
"I'm fine, just tired," Sora assured her, batting the hand away. "When's this thing start?"
Kairi watched him for a moment, still not entirely convinced that everything was right. But she shook the thought off and smiled, launching into her welcome speech.
"I know the pamphlet says seven o'clock, but the doors don't usually open until around eight. We have to make sure everything is set up and rehearse one last time. Things go a lot smoother that way. The kids just hang back here and talk, and some even play on the merry-go-round at the old playground in front. People will start showing up in about ten minutes."
Sora tipped his head to let her know he'd heard her, then started off toward the front of the building. Maybe he could spin on the merry-go-round before the others came. Just a little. Because if anyone saw him, his rough image he'd gained at the dance would go kaput. The boy sat down in the middle of the merry-go-round, falling back to peer at the dark sky. It was going to rain soon and the black clouds above were calling him.
"Sweet darkness, come take me away," he began to recite a poem he'd heard once. "I no longer wish to stay. You wait patiently on my sill. You'll never leave until I fill this void that's deep inside of me. Till then, you'll never let me be."
The sound of crunching grass floated over to him and he fell silent, jerking upward to see who was approaching.
"Sounds like the poem's about suicide," a young man said quietly, taking a seat at the edge of the merry-go-round.
…Are all the leaders hot?
After staring at dark clouds for so long, this man startled him. He was the perfect embodiment of what a cloud was supposed to look like. But not the storm clouds… The kind you see on a sunny day. His hair was light blonde and styled similar to Sora's (sticking up in all directions) and he was paler than an islander should be. He practically towered over the younger boy, probably around the age of twenty-two, and donned baggy black pants with several pockets and a gray, faded t-shirt that read 'Stop staring at my shirt!'. A half-smile curved at his thin, pink lips, despite the morbid subject of his question. Sora guessed that he was the quiet, yet kind, intimidating, yet gentle type. The type that if you got a full genuine smile from him, you'd be floating on a (you guessed it) cloud for the rest of the day. Sora bit his lip and blinked. What's the question again?
"Um, your name is Sora, right?" the blond asked hesitantly, his expression suddenly concerned. "Please, tell me what the poem was about."
"Is about," Sora huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why do people always use past tense when they're talking about literature? The whole point of writing a book or a poem is so that the author's words live forever. A story begins again and again with each person that reads it. So, you see, stories never end… Thus, they can never be spoken of in the past tense."
The man beside him remained speechless for nearly a minute, a thoughtful look settled across his face.
"That has to be one of the weirdest things I've ever heard. Beautiful theory… But you're stalling."
Sora's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He had hoped his little lecture would make the guy think himself into circles and given him time to run away. But nooooo, Mr. Blondie just went and figured out his complicated plan. Why was it that whenever Sora wanted a blonde to act dumb, they never did?!
"Yes," the boy finally replied to the earlier query, lying back down. "You gonna get all 'are you depressed?' and 'do you wanna talk about it?' with me?"
"No," he answered simply, mimicking Sora's position. "I'm gonna get all 'could you tell me the rest of it?' with you."
Sora blinked in confusion once more. What was with this guy? Wasn't he supposed to be a religious leader that wanted to talk about feelings and crap like that?
"O-okay… Everyday I try to hide, but you're always by my side, tempting me to come with you. There's nothing left that I can do. Sweet darkness, waiting on the sill, this time it's not against my will. Take me away, take me away. In the darkness, I wish to stay."
He waited for a response, his stomach fluttering. Would this man laugh at one of his favorite poems? Wait… Why do I care what he thinks?
"Hmm… It's good. Sounds like some angsty teenager that just broke up with someone wrote it, but still alright."
He did not just say my favorite poem is 'alright'.
I think he did.
That's it, I don't care how cute he is! No one messes with my poem!
Rawr!
What the hell was that?
Encouragement to seek your revenge? I don't know, I was caught up in the moment!
…Whatever.
"Oh, yeah? You got a better poem?" Sora challenged, poking the guy in the chest. "Let's hear it!"
Nothing for a moment, and then…
"Where have all the thinkers gone? Where are all the writers and poets? Where have all the thinkers gone? Have we given up our dreams to the twisted, unfair means of the 'others'? The blind ones? The dull and sullen blind ones, who can't understand our dedication to the written word? We're not different. We're not damaged. Why do they assume we are? Have we given evidence to some tragic circumstance of a dark and troubled past? Have they no considerance? Must we have a shadowed life to pen out rhymes and structured lines? What they fail to recognize is this: Without these poems to heal our souls, we become what they see us as. The Evil and Unjust. But now, I ask… What have they become to us?"
As the light and experianced voice faded, silence followed in it's path. Because Sora had absolutely no clue what to say. Who on Earth had written that poem? He couldn't even begin to explain how he was feeling… It was like, those words expressed every view he had of people that weren't like him. He had to ask-
"Who wrote that poem?" Sora inwardly winced at how breathy he sounded.
A grin broke out on the man's face, and Sora was most definitely right about the whole floating thing.
"Cloud Strife. And you happen to be staring in a very obvious way at him."
Damn. He burned you.
"Welcome to the real world, kid. Just because I help run a religious group, doesn't mean I haven't gone through the same shit you have."
He did… And I think I like it.
AN: Hey, Sora's still a hormonal teenager. He's bound to have thoughts. So stop lookin' at me like that! Reviews, please?