A/N: And here's chapter three! I think i might possibly like this chapter, overall. I dunno. You be the judge XP


Chapter 3: Trusting and Near-Touches

Riku was so nervous his fingers wouldn't stop drumming on the brim of the plate, creating a little sing-song beat that matched the unruly rhythm of his heart. Crickets hopped wildly in his stomach without any mercy to his internal organs and wrecking havoc in his guts (he wondered whether he'd ever be able to eat again), his heart sunk and rose with his breathing because it was dangerously stuck in the back of his throat and Riku had no clue why it was there in the first place, and then there was the fact that he kept forgetting why he was standing at the door of the house he was avoiding.

A slight shake of the head proved to be no help, either. Riku could practically hear his brain slush around in the hollow of his head; shake shake, splash splash. It was comical.

Riku heard footsteps against hardwood flooring and then he jumped, nearly dropping the plate of food, because suddenly the lock on the door clicked and grinded, and then a tug at the white and gold wood revealed a smiling, slightly flustered face, and a little huff in Sora's mums breath that could have tickled, if Riku could feel it (and he wondered where the heck that thought came from).

Her smiling face promptly turned to surprise.

"Riku, what brings you here this morning?"

For one idiotic second Riku was about to say Sora, but then he realized that that particular answer wouldn't sit well with Sora's mum and he stopped himself before the idea made way to his mouth. He then became conscious of the fact that, thankfully, he was holding a big plate of food and that it would be the perfect excuse. Thank god. He wondered when he had forgotten it in the first place.

"Uh, well, this is for you," he said, holding out the plate at arms length like it was infested with ants. "It's a little welcoming gesture from my mum." A polite smile graced his face, flashing for only a second.

"Oh, she didn't have to do that," Sora's mum pealed. "I'm flattered that your family has taken such measures to welcome us. It really isn't necessary."

"Too late," Riku laughed, then, because it seemed appropriate. "We've taken it as necessary." And Sora's mum joined in the laughter, too, lighthearted chuckles that made Riku's heart feel warm, like he was making his own mother laugh. Riku could feel the tension literally drain out of the air, like pulling the plug in your bathtub. If, of course, you could pull a plug in the air. He could almost imagine the gurgling of the water rumbling around them.

Then a pause, a slight hesitation, and Sora's mum was opening the door wide, wider, to expose a hallway full of boxes and plastic and intricate little items sitting under hallway mirrors attached to pearly white walls.

Crap.

"Would you like to come in?" Sora's mum asked kindly, and she stepped aside so that if Riku wished, he could enter the messy corridor. "Sorry about the mess. We did just move in, so it's been a little disorganized, but it would be rude of me to just leave you at the door because of a couple of boxes, now wouldn't it?" A lighthearted chuckle echoed through the hall. Riku's heart skipped a beat. No, he didn't want to come in. His insanity depended on staying as far away from this house as possible.

Of course, he couldn't tell Sora's mum that.

"No, it's okay. I think mum's expecting me, anyway," Riku hurriedly lied. Then his heart thudded in his throat, tenfold. He felt as if he was choking but he ignored the feeling, knew it was ridiculous somewhere in the back of his head that was not yet affected by these horrifying nerves.

But the hallway was so inviting; it called to him, pulled him in and told him that Sora was just behind one of these corners, perhaps a little sleepy and perhaps a little unbalanced and perhaps he would accidentally trip over something and Riku would catch him, hold him in his arms and Sora would look up and blush.

If he were in there.

"I don't think your mum would mind you being away for a few minutes," Sora's mum smiled. "Please, I insist."

Why did she have to be so nice?

"It's okay. Really," he declined as politely as he could. "I'm a little busy anyway, so –"

And then someone stumbled from behind Sora's mum, clutching a large sketch pad in both hands and a pencil in his mouth and Riku had to swallow his words so that he didn't say something about how Sora's hair was slightly ruffled and how it looked absolutely gorgeous on him.

Sora was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white flannel top with a skull printed on it, gazing up at him with one socket, loose over his shoulders and reaching to his thighs and Riku had to wonder how someone could make white t-shirts and khaki pants look so adorable. Then again, Sora could probably make anything look adorable, as long as he was wearing it.

The sight of Sora, the mere sight of him, made Riku's mind reel with images and half thoughts that he tried to push away but they were so nice, the little thoughts of how warm Sora would be and what sounds he would make if Riku did this or that to him – but no, that wouldn't have happened; it was impossible, because Sora just didn't swing that way. He was a normal teenage boy whose teenage hormones responded to other teenage (and not-so-teenage) girls. And that hurt, but Riku ignored the slight pain that throbbed in his chest because no, he couldn't change that. It was unavoidable. And he had to face the fact that no matter how much he wanted, he couldn't be with Sora. Not that way. And looking at Sora, mid skid, so astonished and full of light like that; it just hurt more.

Sora skidded in his tracks, then, eyebrows going up, and up, and up, and they disappeared behind spikes of brown hair that looked so soft, so delicate, and Riku wanted to touch them at least, quench that part of his desire, and he didn't even care that it would have been wrong because at that moment he just wanted it so bad. Sora was staring at him with a pleased confusion that looked wonderful on him. It wasn't helping.

And then Sora's jaw dropped, clatter of a pencil on the floor as it fell out of his mouth but Riku wasn't concentrating on that, and he gasped, Sora gasped, and Riku knew then that he wouldn't be able to leave until he had done something, anything, that involved being with Sora (and he really couldn't help thinking one or two things that would involve being with Sora in that way).

It was a few seconds before something actually moved. Riku registered that it was Sora's mum, staring intently at Sora and tapping him on the shoulder, obviously a little hesitant and more than a little confused. She had picked up his pencil, apparently, and was handing it to him.

"Sora honey?"

Sora blinked, looked around a little, then settled is eyes on his mum, who had stopped tapping his shoulder and was now standing with her arms folded, something that looked like concern on her face, but Riku wasn't too sure because it was quickly smothered by a neutral mother look. She placed the pencil in Sora's free hand.

"Huh?" Sora asked, eyebrows furrowing as he curled his fingers around the pencil. Then his eyes spotted Riku and he jumped just a little, a blush rising to his cheeks that he tried to hide by facing the floor.

Fuck, he was adorable.

"Hey, Riku," he mumbled, shuffling his feet and tightening his grip on his sketch pad. Riku's heart faltered at the sound of his name. He was trying to keep it together, but something evil and insensitive (and probably karma) was preventing him the privilege of thinking straight.

"Hey," Riku replied. Yeah, because that was the most awe-inspiring thing he could have said.

Sora swallowed so loud Riku could hear it (and the not-so-sensible part of his brain registered that Sora could make that sound in a different situation, too, probably with less clothing and tangled limbs), and he cleared is throat a bit and looked up, hesitantly, eyes looking through fallen brown spikes.. His blush had calmed down somewhat.

"Were you, um, going to –"

"I think Riku was about to leave," Sora's mum cut his sentence before Riku could make sense of it. Sora visibly looked disappointed, smile faltering but staying on his face like a grimace or a shadow.

"That is, of course, if he hasn't changed his mind," Sora's mum suddenly added and smirked at Riku, smirked, waving Sora out of the way so that Riku couldn't see him and held out a hand that indicated – hey, you can come in and talk to my son, but I know you like him so don't try anything funny or I'll use my super motherly powers to make you regret it for the rest of your teenage life, got it?

He silently blessed Sora's mum.

Riku really wasn't sure if he wanted to go in, though, unable to trust himself, but then Sora's head popped out from behind his mum again (god he was adorable) and he beckoned for Riku to come in and follow him, wherever he was going. So with a great gulp of air Riku followed suit, footsteps echoing thought the hall, trying to look inconspicuous as he surveyed his surroundings with a tentative eye and concentrating on not staring at Sora's back the whole way. Sora's mother suddenly disappeared through a doorway, and he thought he could hear the distant sound of a chuckle.

The hallway was crowded; discarded boxes and plastic crunching under their feet, bubble wrap popping, and that reminded Riku of times where all he would do was pop bubble wrap between his fingers, and that sudden memory brought a smile to his face. There was a light that was flickering above him, obviously about to die out, and it casted sashaying shadows on the floor and across the walls. It would have looked eerie in the moonlight.

And just like that not-so-sensible thoughts popped into Riku's head; Sora splayed under him, moonlight streaked across his face and his wrists pinned in between Riku's hands, Sora's body warm and close and shivering, perhaps, his hands running up Riku's back, sending pleasant waves down his spine.

This fantasy Sora was kissing him, lips moving hungrily on his, a little hesitant and a little unsure but it was great; soft and warm and hot. Riku slipped his tongue into Sora's mouth because he needed to, now, couldn't help it and oh god, Sora's tongue danced with his and it sent electrifying jolts through his nerves and down; down his back, down lower. Mmn, that was nice.

Riku wanted to make Sora moan, so he did, grinding his hips against Sora's and his breath stuttered in Riku's ear and he grinded again and Sora moaned, grinding back and that was hot, hot, so hot, and Sora's breath was wet against his neck and Riku needed to grind again and feel that moan against him, hips pulling back and he was close, so close to making Sora succumb completely and arch into him when –

"Riku?" Sora asked, standing feet away from him and scratching his head. Riku hadn't realized that he had stopped in his tracks.

Fuck, Riku thought, fuck he knew this was going to happen. Riku clenched his hands into fists and willed the images away, filing them safely in the back of his head, because, really, that was not something he wanted to forget. He controlled himself and calmed his pulse (when had that increased?), tried to act like, hey, I wasn't thinking about making out with you, 'cause, like, I'm not gay or anything. Psh.

"Sorry," Riku smiled, white teeth flashing against pale lips; a little, apologetic crescent moon.

Sora grinned, light reflecting off his teeth and he looked stunning, like that, under flickering lights and with that smile that was better than real, with his innocent look and vibrant air and with his happiness; nearly surreal.

"Did you want something to drink?" Sora asked. "We have some cans of Coke, but they're warm 'cause we haven't put them in the fridge yet."

Riku did want something, but it had nothing to do with Coke. He refrained from actually admitting that.

"Yeah, sure," he said instead, because that way he could have something to occupy his hands with. And his mouth.

"Right," Sora smiled, dazzling, absently flicking the corner of his sketch book with his thumb. Riku caught glimpses of penciled drawings; unidentifiable.

Sora took a sharp left into what Riku was sure was the kitchen. Bright yellow walls surrounded them, embraced them in warmth, and a large wooden dinning table set with decorative china (they had decorative china?) stood proudly in the middle, appliances of white and silver to the right. This room was also home to many boxes, but most of them were full and closed and looked like they hadn't been touched.

Sora walked up to one of the boxes, kneeled down beside it and pulled at the tape until it gave way with a rip, tugging a little because it wouldn't snap at the end. Riku stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands in his pockets and looking only at Sora, a little because he couldn't think of anything else to do and a little because he couldn't resist. Sora's tongue darted out of his mouth, then, as he tugged at the tape until it finally gave way, and he opened the flaps with one last yank. Sora frowned.

"Wonder where we put the Coke." He mumbled.

"Maybe I can help look for it," Riku said, walking over and kneeling next to Sora, pulling at the tape of the next box. The faster they found the Coke, the faster they could start talking. Riku couldn't wait. The crickets in his stomach resumed hopping around in their merry, merciless way.

It was five long, grueling minutes of pulling and tugging and disappointed sighs before the cans of Coke were found. Of course, they were in the box near the fridge. Duh.

"I thought they were never going to turn up," Sora said, stretching his arms out in front of him. "You want ice with yours?"

"Yeah," Riku replied. He was beginning to realize that that word was becoming the only word in his vocabulary. Like, for some pessimistic reason, he had forgotten every word he had ever learnt in the entirety of his life.

If his mind wasn't occupied with other thoughts he would have thought that that was depressing.

Sora headed over to the counter, then, getting cups from a box they had opened sometime in their forage. As Sora poured the Coke into the cups, Riku sat himself at the table and tried not to make the chair screech against the hardwood flooring. He could smell the remnants of breakfast in the air; sausages, eggs, and maybe there was a hint of toast, somewhere, but he wasn't sure.

"Here," Sora said, handing Riku his cup. Riku gratefully held it in his hands and took one long, deep drink. The bubbles tickled his throat and made him want to gag, but he ignored that, concentrated on how the Coke was warm and quenching his thirst. The ice cubes clinked together as Riku finished his drink and set the cup down, relaxation slowly settling through the muscles in his body.

Sora was smiling at him.

"What?" Riku asked, a little embarrassed (and his heart was jumping in his chest as if it was dancing and his thoughts were going, dude he's smiling at you.).

"Nothing," Sora said, shaking his head, a slight blush that wasn't too noticeable on his cheeks. Then Sora looked as if he were about to flick through the pages of his sketch book again, but just as he was about to he realized that he had left it on the floor.

"Oh. Oops," an awkward chuckle, slight screech of the chair as he sat up and walked across the room to where he had left his sketch book.

Riku wondered. Firstly, he wondered about what Sora was smiling at when he was looking at him. Probably the way he had chugged his drink. That sounded possible. Secondly, he wondered what was in Sora's sketchbook. It was a normal curiosity; expected. When someone drew something you wanted to see it, right? It was instinct.

So when Sora returned to the table, sketchbook in hand and happily flicking the corner of the pages so that partials of what Riku thought were Sora's private sketches flew by, he did the expected thing of leaning toward Sora and trying to get a better glimpse.

"So, you draw?" Riku asked, leaning in a little further because he couldn't help his curiosity. And he couldn't help being close to Sora, but that thought was pushed away.

"Not really," Sora mumbled, not meeting his gaze. "They're just doodles. And they're not even good."

"Has anyone seen them?" Riku asked, slightly teasing, but he tried to make that as unnoticeable as possible.

"Well, no."

"Then how do you know that they're bad?" A chuckle under his breath, huff of air between them.

Sora looked up and smiled, tentatively, shuffling in his chair. "I guess I don't."

"Then why don't you show them to me?" Riku suggested, leaning in closer, until he could feel Sora's breath on his face and he could smell toothpaste and cinnamon and gum in the air between them. He noted, with an inward smile, that Sora was staring into his eyes and blushing, which made his insides twist into knots and the crickets hop away on his intestines.

Right then, the moment froze. It was just Riku and Sora, close together, not really touching but Riku wondered what it would be like to touch Sora, just once. It was just them, and Riku knew that his heart was racing inside his chest, wondered whether Sora's was, too, then shook that thought out of his head without actually shaking, because that was never going to happen. His heart squeezed, and he felt that pain again, felt it in his chest and in his hands as they clenched together, for a second. He knew that Sora was never going to suddenly like him, not like that. It was unavoidable. Then the moment vanished, unfroze, and time resumed itself with heartless laughter.

Sora blinked, pulling himself out of whatever train of thought he was in, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized what he was doing and he looked down at the table sheepishly, running his fingers through his spiky hair; a habit, Riku noticed, that he had. He committed it to memory.

"I don't know," Sora said, unsure.

"Hey, you won't know just how good –" And when Sora raised an eyebrow at him, Riku amended, "or bad you're drawings are until someone sees them and tells you."

"Yeah, I guess," Sora frowned, staring intently at his sketchbook as if it were about to sprout a mouth and tell him what he should do.

"So is that a yes?" Riku encouraged.

Sora sighed, then, shifting in his chair and placing the sketchbook on the table, leaning forward in his chair so that their noses nearly touched, for a second (and Riku's heart jumped into his throat because Sora was just so close), his hands atop his sketchbook in a small attempt to hide it away. "Yeah," Sora sighed through his nose, sliding the sketchbook across the table to Riku, leaning back in his chair so that their nearly touching noses were no longer nearly touching and Riku couldn't smell the toothpaste and cinnamon and gum on Sora's breath anymore. "I guess that's a yes."

Victory for Riku.

But Riku was shocked. He never actually expected Sora to show him anything; he hadn't shown anyone else, right? So why would he show him? Riku was a stranger. They hadn't known each other for more than a day and already he was able to see something of Sora's private life, that secretive little part of himself that no one else was able to see. Did that make Riku special, in a way? Did it make him different to everyone else in Sora's life? Riku squashed the thought just as it developed, stamped his foot over it and stamped again, kept stamping, even, until he was satisfied that the thought would not come back and that he hurt like he had just trampled on his hope. He would have been worried if he had felt any other way.

Riku ignored the tight ache that once again made itself at home in his throat, swallowed, and then did the expected thing and opened Sora's sketchbook with hesitant fingers. The pages crackled, slightly, the black cover peeled off to reveal the title 'Sora's Sketchbook', written in fancy cursive lettering and surrounded by a border of thorns that twined around each letter, holding it in place, so lifelike that it looked as if Riku could touch them and prick his fingers on their thorns. He tried not to gasp.

Riku shot his gaze at Sora, who was looking at him with worried eyes that screamed his insecurity, his fingers tapping softly on the table in a rhythmic, fast beat, unable to sit still. He glanced at Riku with those eyes, then, and he stopped the tapping of his fingers and changed it to a slight tug at his shirt sleeve, studying Riku's reactions, his eyes, anything that could tell Sora what he was thinking. Riku smiled encouragingly and turned back to the sketchbook.

He tried not to smudge the thorns that Sora had obviously put a lot of dedication into as he turned the page, slowly, so he didn't accidently smudge anything, or worse, rip the page, because then Sora would probably do nothing less than kill him, and that wouldn't be good for their friendship (because Riku had decided that since he couldn't have Sora in that way, he might as well be friends with him).

Riku promptly gasped, then, forgetting to stop himself, because he was looking at a portrait of Sora's sister – Amanda, was it? – which stared up at him, so lifelike he thought he was looking at a photograph of her, a smile plastered onto her face and chocolate brown hair that reminded him of Sora's hair falling down her shoulders, off the page and into nothingness. It was beautiful, how her honey eyes shined, how she radiated energy even in a picture that had no right to radiate energy when it wasn't even alive, but this picture was alive, all realness and liveliness in every single miniscule detail.

Riku didn't know what he was doing, then, because obviously he was more than a little gob-smacked and not in his right mind, so when he looked up at Sora and saw that he was looking back, worried and agitated and still fiddling with his the sleeve of his shirt, all he was capable of saying as consolation to the poor boy was, "Um, wow."

After he blinked, Sora broke into the biggest, most amazing smile Riku had ever seen.

Silently (not) hyperventilating, Riku looked back at the picture of Amanda and calmed his heart down, taking in full, much needed breaths while trying to look as subtle as gasping for breath let him. His heart was hammering in his ears and was now rising in his throat and he wondered, for a second, how he was even able to breathe in the first place. Riku considered glancing back at Sora from behind his bangs after he calmed himself down, did, and regretted it because that smile hadn't faded in the least; no falter or any strain; perfect. Wonderfully perfect.

Riku then busied himself with looking at Sora's other pictures, because practicality was a good thing. He restrained his 'ah's' and 'ooh's' as he flipped through the pictures, but sometimes his mind wandered and he forgot what he was doing and he'd 'ooh' and 'ah' and 'wow' particularly amazing drawings (not that they weren't all amazing) and somehow, from the corner of his peripheral vision he'd catch Sora's gleeful reactions to those moments. Riku noted palm trees, lots of palm trees; swaying palm trees, towering palm trees, and one particular palm tree caught his eye that was bent on an awkward angle and grew beautiful, star shaped fruit he had never seen before. He saw beaches, too, many of them sunny and happy and sometimes deserted, and then he saw a landscape of snow and ice that completely contradicted the beaches and made him wonder about Sora's train of thought. A turn of the page again and a night sky filled his vision, obviously drawn from a rooftop or something of similar bearings. It was peaceful, stars glittered slightly, the moon was a small crescent of silver against the backdrop of black velvet sky, which in itself glowed harmoniously with the stars; light and energy, and that reminded him of Sora.

He turned the page again after he murmured a slight (and completely involuntary) gasp at the night sky, when he was unexpectedly revealed to an unfinished drawing of a boy with long, long hair, staring intently up at him and a slight, teasing smirk that graced his face.

What the --?

Riku took a closer look at the sketch in front of him, noted the long hair, the smirk, the collar of a t-shirt he was wearing not too long ago.

Was that … him?

And just by looking at the picture (he didn't even have to see how Sora froze in his seat when Riku turned the page) he knew that yes, yes it was him staring up with that smirk and the long, long hair, and it looked exactly like him even though it wasn't colored, and somewhere behind his frantic heartbeat and dead brain cells and the half thoughts of dude this must mean that Sora cares, he had to congratulate Sora on drawing him so realistically when he had barely even seen his face. He had talent. And he thought about him. Sora thought about him, and that just made Riku glow.

"This is me," Riku murmured after a few dragged out seconds, and it wasn't a question.

He glanced up through long silver bangs to find that Sora was stiff; fists on the table tight and unmoving and his knuckles white, stretched skin taught, back rigid, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Riku with so much intensity that Sora could have burned a hole through his head.

"Yeah," Sora said through a tightened jaw.

Riku drowned himself in a moment of precious bliss before smiling.

"I like it."

Sora's jaw dropped, lips parting, and then his whole demeanor changed in the span of one short second. Riku could clearly see the tension in him disappear, his whole body completely relaxing into one small, grateful ball of Sora.

"Okay," Sora hummed after blinking a few too many times, and Riku could have sworn that he had heard Sora sigh. Mmm, Sora sighing in his ear, hair tickling his jaw line, ghost of lips on his neck – Riku stopped himself just as he realized what he was doing. He told himself to quit it, silently cursing his stupid teenage hormones.

He didn't stop smiling, but he did find himself glancing at the antique clock on the wall and nearly jumping in his seat. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap. Was that already the time? Mitch was going to kill him! They were supposed to be fixing Mitch's junk heap he called a motorbike twenty minutes ago.

Sora was staring at him with a look of slight confusion that was beginning to make Riku's heart jump in his throat.

"Sorry Sora, but I have to go," Riku rushed as he stood up with a start, his chair groaning against the hardwood flooring, and he regretted ever agreeing to help Mitch once he saw a flash of disappointment in Sora's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by understanding.

"Yeah, okay," Sora said, standing with a little more grace.

Riku hesitated, for a second, calculating what the consequences would be if he were to stay with Sora instead of helping Mitch out, pausing, and groaned because the outcome would have lead to something along the lines of Mitch chanting rhyming love songs outside Riku's bedroom door at five in the morning. He would never be able to sleep again.

"They're really good, by the way," Riku said, smiling a little and handing Sora his sketchbook back, and just as Sora grabbed it their hands brushed, slightly, sending a tingle of electricity through Riku's arm and he lingered there, noting how Sora's hand was warm and soft, so soft, how his fingers would brush against Riku's and it was a sin how that one touch made Riku crazy.

And then that contact was gone, and Riku looked up at Sora to see him blushing and looking away, tucking his sketchbook under his arm with a murmured, "Thanks." Riku had to remind himself that Sora was replying to him and not thanking him for that lingering touch he could still feel on his fingertips.

"I guess I'll see you later," Riku said, smiling, acting as if nothing happened as he hurried to the corridor, and he could just make out Sora's soft voice echoing against the walls.

"I hope so."

That made his heart jump again.

As Riku headed to the front door Amanda was there, surprisingly, a kind, knowing smile on her face.

"Hey," she said before opening the door, and Riku wondered if she was listening in on their conversation all along. That made him feel slightly uncomfortable, and he took a note that if he and Sora were to have a private conversation, Amanda and Sora's mum were probably gong to have to be far, far away. Of course, he stopped thinking any of that once he saw Mitch across the yard with a terrible grin on his face and hands covered in blackened grease.

"Hey there," he cooed, before grabbing Riku by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back to their house.


A/N: God, i hate that ending *shakes head* It's so ... rushed. Oh well. Next chapter, coming up!!