Disclaimer: I don't own it, but that much is obvious. SquareEnix, you have my undying respect. Nor do I own the Velvet Underground's copy of "I'm Sticking With You", Kill Hannah or PlayRadioPlay!'s "Compliment Each Other Like Colors".
Dedication: Ammy, who pwns at many things that I'm not even capable of halfway accomplishing.
Summary: Riku wants nothing more than to remember Sora forever. So, it should be perfectly fine to use Roxas, who is (and isn't) a copy of Sora.
Pairings: RikuRoku, TidusSelphie
Author's Note: WOW IT ONLY TOOK ME LIKE FOREVER AND A YEAR TO FREAKING UPDATE THIS STORY. The end is near. Closer than you think, actually. Chapter 5 is the last installment of 'Euthanasia'. OH, AND TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY, SO BE NICE AND REVIEW, THANKS EVER SO MUCH.
IV. Hurt Me
If we try hard enough, I'm sure we can forget it.
--
If he had to describe it in a single word, he'd call it a "pause".
A pause in motion (smiles, embraces), a pause in thought (insanity, mild incoherency), a pause in lust (love). One moment there were jerking limbs and teeth stretched in crooked smiles and lips pursed to coo songs and sweet-nothings, and then, just as quickly…
(with a turn of the head and bright eyes blinking in bemusement)
There was nothing at all.
--
Please observe the following incriminating subjects:
1 (one) tape recorder, property of Sora Abe. Nearby are rather horrible (according to all company, with the exception of the now deceased) indie tapes that remark upon 'love' and 'rainy days' and 'all the tiiiimmme I think about yooouuu', complete with creaking guitar strings and cracking voices.
2 (two) CDs, courtesy of Roxas Abe. One is a copy of Riku's band. The other belongs to a drippy, whiny sort of band with the cheerful title of "Kill Hannah". The former is stuck into the boom box in the corner, playing a familiar song (you've probably heard it; that song that you hear once and it plays on repeat in your mind for the rest of the year) over and over.
1 (one) shoebox, filled to the brim with crumpled letters written with the sort of ballpoint pen that smears, but you use it anyway. The letters all say the same thing, more or less.
Dear Riku,
I've told you I love you, right?
Love, Sora
That one's folded and stained with an unidentifiable smear. Probably fruit or something like it...whatever it is, it still smells violently of citrus and cheap cologne.
Dear Sora,
I think I've heard that somewhere before. Feel free to say it again if you feel the urge to.
Love, Riku
This one's folded halfway, creased all over. On the back are notes for 'Prof. Valentine's Chemistry Class'. There are several sentences, but all are crossed out with the loopy script of RIKU+SORA=4EVER BABY TRU LUV WOOT.
And then underneath it: At least I thought so.
There's a photograph under somebody's pillow; a horribly taken, off-kilter picture of Sora and Riku. At least half of Sora's body isn't inside of the frame, but you can see his smile stretching across his face. The smiles and the eyes take up most of his face, only leaving the spiked hair left to show. To the side is Riku, his arm slung around the smaller boy's shoulders and leaning into the camera. The majority of photograph is filled with Riku's grinning mug.
On the back, it says in cramped writing: You wish you were this cool.
Oddly enough, the photograph is torn in half.
"Things just happen sometimes, you know? There doesn't necessarily have to be something that ignites it…I mean, things can be fine, and then BANG! Everything explodes and you're trying to fit together pieces that can't connect."
–Axel
He probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't rolled over exactly at 6: 35 PM. Had there been just one more minute, twenty more seconds in his awakening, everything would've been fine. But as things were, Roxas twisted in his sleep and snapped open his eyes, bright as buttons, to say "Good morn—"
It would've been "Good morning, Riku", but you see, there was no Riku. No lazy-eyed boy with argentine hair wrapped up in the duvet beside him. No rustling sheets as he flipped over to plant that good-morning-I-love-you kiss on Roxas's forehead.
There was air. And stillness.
(And an odd sense of dread, but Roxas would never admit it.)
Slowly, the blonde eased himself off of the mattress and creaked across the floor, bare feet dancing across the floorboards. He tip-toed towards the door to the closet, held oh so casually ajar.
And there was Riku, crying over photographs. A saccharine, hazy smell clouding the are, filling Roxas's nostrils with the unpleasant odor.
Dozens and dozens and dozens of pictures, strewn across the floor, it was impossible how many there were—god, where he keep it all?
Tapes playing in old-fashioned recorders.
"I'm sticking with you…'cause I'm made out of glue."
Riku turned his eyes to Roxas; pretty eyes, pretty in a cheap way. They shone like dull gem stones in trash heaps as the boy turned to the blonde. They were rimmed red, and blood-shot, and why wasn't he turning around, why wasn't he blinking, and—
(don't look at me with those eyes, please for the love of whatever you believe in, don't look at me like that, when you do that I just don't what to do, I can't save you, please don't do this to me---)
"So, you're hanging from a tree…and I made believe it was me."
Riku, on the floor, messy-haired and of a swollen face, staring up at Roxas. He blinked once, and they remained vacant. Smoke curled out his mouth like a dragon, and he croaked, " Hey, baby, where've you been?"
Roxas's lips thinned.
"Get out."
"Of course, we all wanted to know. We're nosy people, alright? And it just didn't make any sense. They were doing great before, and then they just stopped everything. And it's not like they talked about it—Roxas could've doubled a mime, he was so silent. And Riku…god, it was like Sora had died all over again."
-Selphie
"SMOKING FUCKING WEED IN THE DAMN CLOSET, WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU—"
Riku tipped his head to the side, surveyed the irate blonde without much interest. This couldn't be Sora; it wasn't feasible by any concept known to man…and yet, it appeared to be him. Same sun-kissed skin, same large blue eyes and even teeth. Same tone of voice, same bony hips and fingers and the slight edge between their eyebrows when they raised their voices, and—
"GOD ALMIGHTY WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU RIKU WHY ARE YOU HIDING WHY ARE YOU STILL HIDING FROM SORA FOR GOD'S SAKE HE'S DEAD GET OVER IT—"
Riku covered his ears. Don't say that.
"GET USED TO IT I LOVED YOU RIKU BUT I SWEAR YOU JUST MAKE ME SO—"
He isn't dead if I don't want him to be.
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOU ANYMORE SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ALREADY GET OUT OF MY SIGHT I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN JUST LEAVE—"
But he won't leave my mind, and what am I supposed to do? If I let him go, I forget. Don't ask me to leave him behind, please; I've already done that before. And it hurts; you wouldn't believe how bad it hurts.
"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT—"
Riku raised his eyes to the ceiling and squeaked through his haze, "But baby, I love you."
Roxas sucked in his breath, and the sound echoed sharply off of the wall's edges. "Don't say that," he sibilated, "if it's not for me, then I don't want to hear it."
"Sora, baby, can't we just---?"
"BUT I'M NOT SORA." Roxas screeched. "I can't be him, Riku! I tried, but I just can't do it!"
"It was just like a car crash, but it was weird, yanno? Like it was planned or something. A planned, organized car crash…now that's something to fear."
—Demyx
Riku's eyes rolled in their sockets, and he grasped Roxas's arm, drawing him downwards. "Just—just wait a second, I can—it's not my—"
"No one's blaming you, Riku, but for the love of god, can you just get it together? There's no Sora for you to hurt and you're clearly out of it so I guess you can't hurt yourself either, but—me, Riku, you're hurting me."
But I never meant to hurt you.
"It's not always about you."
I just wanted…
"It's not even about me. It's about this, thing...thing we have, or don't have. Don't look at me like that, you know you're always asking-- "
To have another chance? You've gotta give me a second shot at this, it's not fair otherwise. C'mon, you've gotta be fair. You know that.
"It's about what we have, Riku, this…whatever you want to call it. Do you want it or not?"
I just wanted to you to shield me. Hide me. Save me. Don't make me look, don't make me face what I've done, what I'm responsible for.
"It's all up to you."
PROTECT ME FROM WHAT I WANT.
Fading footsteps, cracking vocal chords, shaking hands.
Dry eyes.
"God, I'm so tired of this."
"It sounds corny, but it was like the storm was just building. Like, it seems fine and dandy on the outside, but it couldn't stay that way forever. With Riku being himself and Roxas being, well, Roxas…it wasn't going to last. Not the way it was. Never the way it was."
--Tidus
For a long time, Riku stood in the center of the room, the effects of his high wearing off and the tape beginning to skip. He picked it up, weighing it in his palm. On the white stripe on the side, it said "Riku listens to crap music but Sora hearts him anyways".
Riku threw it at the wall, and it shattered.
Boxes of Sora memorabilia met their death against the wall and the windows, causing them to break almost instantly. He threw objects out of the windows, burned the photographs over the stove.
The picture frame advertising their first anniversary.
Broken.
Sora's favorite sunglasses.
Broken.
Sora's handkerchief.
Burned.
Screams tore themselves from Riku's throat, winded around the hall, and down the corner. On the floor beneath him, Demyx paused in his playing and threw his guitar on his bed, taking the stairs two at a time.
---
"So, I'm guessing that you and Ri are having a bit of trouble?" Axel inquired, fiddling with a sugar packet. He dumped it into his coffee, blew on it, and raised an eyebrow at Roxas.
"Maybe." The blonde said noncommittally, viciously stabbing at his Belgium Waffle. He dumped strawberry syrup on it and stared blankly at Axel, mutilating it severely.
The redhead felt a bit sick. "Er. Alright then?"
"No, Axel, no. It's not alright." Roxas snarled, upending his hot chocolate. The liquid weaseled its way from the mug and onto the murdered waffle. Ew, thought Axel, looking away from the breakfast and meeting the blonde's furious eyes. "It never was alright to begin with." He scowled, holding his head up with his palms. "It's just…so stupid, you know? I'd probably do anything for him, but he's so selfish. It's Sora this, Sora that, and I can't take it anymore! I can't be Sora. I'm me!"
---
Riku paused in his grandiose destruction of the apartment, the lighter uncapped and ready to set any belonging formerly of Sora's possession ablaze. "What do you want?" he asked Demyx shortly. He snatched up a ticket stub that Sora had used last year when they went to go see Little Miss Sunshine and shoved it into the flame, watching it with narrowed eyes.
"Jesus, Riku." Demyx whispered. "Gawd. What is this? Is this all you?"
Riku didn't look away from the burning stub. "No. It's all Sora."
Demyx sputters an indignant, "What?" before reaching across the length of Riku's chest and snatching the lighter from his grip. Breathing heavily, he shoved it into the pocket of his pants and, for the first time, takes a glance at the chaos that is Riku's apartment.
Books were flung everywhere, their spines collapsing and sliding to the left. Crinkled cellophane, ashes and melting film, ticket stubs, and cracked picture frames. Ripped pieces of notebook paper and sliced-in-half CDs entitled "SORA'S AWESOME MUSIC". Lyric jackets and shredded sweaters.
A pamphlet, half crumpled and mostly burned, but Demyx could still (just barely) make out: 'In memory of Sora Abe—son, friend, student. Born 1989, died 2005'.
Shit.
"Riku, man." Demyx stammered, shoving the pamphlet into the corner with the toe of his All Stars. "Dude. This is over-kill. Where's Rox?"
Riku chose to ignore the comment of his (ex?) boyfriend's whereabouts, and selected several papers from the pile on the floor—love notes, train schedules, all of it---into the paper shredder by the wall.
"Riku, c'mon, this is stupid. I know you're still hurting, but you can't just fly off the handle like this. What about Roxas? How do you think Roxas feels?"
--
"...I feel sick, I feel disgusted with this. This is fucking sick, Axel, and it's just wrong. I shouldn't have to pretend to be my deceased cousin to make someone happy. He says 'I love you' to Sora, not me."
--
"What about me," Riku mumbled, grinding Sora's class-ring under his foot. "How do I feel?"
Demyx scowled, and threw his hands up in the air with frustration. "God, Riku! It's not always about you!"
There was a pause---Riku's eyes narrowed, and Demyx looked down at the floor as if he expected the floorboards to rewind back time and bury the sentence beneath its wood.
Riku took a step forward, arms raised, but there was no blows, but a yelp of, "You don't understand! None of you do! None of you get it!" He seized Demyx by the upper arm, bellowing in his face, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!"
--
"And god, no one get's it, do they? Me and Riku. Riku and me. Oh, excuse me, me and Riku and Sora. Probably the sicket love triangle in the world. We should get a prize for such a twisted relationship."
--
"What's what like, Riku? You're not making any sense."
Riku laughed--or rather, he let loose an insane chuckle of sorts that caused the hair to stand up on the back of Demyx's neck. "Sense. I wish this made sense. I wish...sometimes I wish..."
--
"It's horrible, really, but sometimes I can't help but wish that..."
--
"I really wish---it's bad, you'll hate me for it, but I just sometimes wish that---"
--
"He could've died in Sora's place."
--
"Ri, c'mon, you know that's not true. You like Roxas. Roxas likes you. All you've got to do is apologize for upsetting him, and--" Muffled words falling on deaf ears, up until "admit that Sora's gone", and Riku was up, up and shrieking and trembling with emotions that didn't even have names yet.
"He's gone, Riku, he's gone, and it'll be better for everyone when you finally have the courage to admit it."
He'sgonehe'sgonehe'sgone, and there isn't anything you can do or say to bring him back, to turn back time, to do anything.
Riku uttered a shrill scream, snatching at handfuls of his hair and tugging against the roots. "You say Sora's gone, but he isn't! He's there, Demyx, and don't you dare look at me like I'm crazy. He's inside this damned apartment, and in Roxas's smile, and—and—and---" He shoved his wrist into the blonde bassist's face, displaying the veins circling under the pale skin. "My skin, Demyx! He is fucking corroding under my skin and he's burning me up!"
