I don't own Kingdom Hearts. After some months, I remembered this story, and decided to continue, with drastic changes. Sorry, but this isn't a new chapter. It's not an edit of the old one, either - it's a completely different story that begins similarly.
Warnings for: Shounen-ai, AU, sap/fluff/WAFF, rambling, possible OOC, mutilated English, bad puns, inexperienced young authoress (IYA!), and other terrible, terrible things.
Despite all of that, please enjoy – this is for everybody who still believes in fairies.
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Well, This Can't Be Good
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If you'd tell Riku that you believed fate, in love at first sight: snap; love! just like that – a meeting of gazes, raw attraction, instant emotion, then a feeling of rightness, perhaps followed by a cup of coffee or a blissful little interlude, then sailing on to happily ever after, slaying a dragon or two along the way – the stuff fairy tales and internet-spawned romance stories are made of – he'd give you the look big kids reserve for the babies who still believed in Santa, and scoff.
"Don't be naïve, stupidity like that doesn't exist, except in badly written fanfiction," (1) he'd snort dismissively, sounding every bit the old, jaded cynic. "Lust, yes. Like; it's possible. Love, no."
And it's true he doesn't believe in tripe like that.
(It's just that sometimes, he'd rather he did.)
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Prologue: Ouch, and Then Some
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Riku was swamped. He was in a veritable Sea of humanity, countless individuals moving towards some personal destination, faceless strangers slipping past each other under a downcast sky. It was rush hour, and everyone was in a hurry. No one paused to talk to each other, not even to smile a greeting.
Skyscrapers loomed overhead, neon flashboards blinked on and off. Various shops added their own splashes of color on concrete and metal, lighting up an otherwise grim, murky world. It was kinda pretty, actually. Not that he was looking.
Because he was in a hurry, too – according to his wristwatch, he had only ten minutes until the last train (why train?) to Destiny Isles, and he had to move fast if he wanted to catch it. So there he was, shoving other people aside and stepping on leather-encased toes, earning curses and a couple of angry yells. He pushed past the writhing mass of bodies and turned into a side street, following a crumpled map clutched in his hand.
It was considerably less crowded here. Riku stopped to rest his hands on his knees and took a deep, grateful breath.
Then he looked up.
Right into eyes of summer blue, rosy cheeks, and a slightly upturned mouth. The stranger offered a sympathetic "Traffic's terrible this time of day, isn't it?" before turning away, melting back into anonymity of the Sea. Nothing much to take note of – a look, a smile, an innocuous statement from the lips of a stranger; that was all – a few insignificant seconds of color and noise and remote human interaction, nothing to remember in the course of a day, much less a lifetime.
(Now, this is where the 'fate' thing comes into play. You know, love at first sight? Too bad no such thing happened. But it was right there that everything started to unravel at the seams.)
Riku straightened and walked on, lips pursed. He gave small the matter a moment's thought. It was unusual, how many people nowadays took time to greet total strangers? And those eyes... But he had other things to think about. Already, the encounter had been pushed to the back of his mind, but it was too late: the damage was done.
All it took was an instant of preoccupation.
Riku tripped.
And fell.
Onto an incline. (That just happened to be there.)
And rolled.
And rolled.
And rolled some more, for good measure.
When he finally stopped, he was hurting, bruised and winded.
And lost.
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"Oww…"
Riku groaned. His left shoulder hurt to high heaven. He was hungry and cold. Nobody had passed him by and helped; rush hour was over. (Over? Just like that?) He had no idea where he was, because he'd let go of the map while rolling. He'd smashed his wristwatch; its glass face sported thin spiderweb cracks. (It still worked, thank god.) On top of that, he'd missed the train –
He.
Had.
Missed.
The.
Train.
The train! The one and only mode of transportation to Destiny Isles. Unless you count (certain death by) leaky rowboats. The next train was due in THREE WEEKS.
"Dammit," he cursed (bitterly). This was getting to be a shitty day.
But lying on the cold street and swearing wasn't going to make anything better, and Riku seemed to realize this, because he got up, wincing, and started looking for something that would.
First Priority: Phone booth. Now.
He glanced around, hobbled into an empty green one and checked if it was still working. Then he patted his trousers and frowned. He put his hand in his coat pocket and scowled. Finally, he took out his wallet and found himself facing a nice (rather thick) wad of bills.
This was getting to be a real shitty day.
Altered First Priority: Get some change. Now.
Riku pushed his head out of the phone booth and looked. Clothes shops, movie rentals, suspicious looking businesses, et cetera … cafés. Might as well get some coffee.
(Too bad life wasn't going to allow him even that.)
As Riku was making his way over, somebody slammed into him, knocking him down to hard sidewalk. He landed painfully, yelling choice words at the asshole that made passersby stare. Fortunately for the creep but unfortunately for Riku, by the time he'd gotten around to the best bits (Riku had his creative moments), said asshole was long gone.
This was getting to be a damned real shitty day.
Riku cursed some more, getting up with effort. He dusted his pants, ignored the ache in his lower back, and marched toward whatever establishment was nearest, coffee be damned. What he wanted now was to call Leon ASAP, apologize for missing the anniversary (and the wedding and the birthday. Riku was in deep, deep trouble), maybe phone-rant for an hour, and work out some sort of compromise.
Then spend three weeks in a cheap hotel, bored out of his mind while studiously avoiding booze. It was going to be juuust great.
He found himself in front of "Aerith's Food and Drinks (and Sometimes Music) Place." Riku sighed, and pushed the door open.
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The moment he entered, Riku was bombarded by smells and sights that reminded him of just how hungry he was. His stomach growled, (and groaned and rumbled and emitted several other embarrasing sounds) reproaching him for missing breakfast, lunch, dinner, and yesterday's dinner. He was starving, but he'd been in a hurry so he wouldn't miss his flight.
And the train, which he'd missed anyway. Thank you, Lady Luck. It's been a pleasure dancing with you. Now go find some other poor sob to torment.
But as he sat on the nearest chair, the café's warmth was seeping through his clothes, relaxing him, pulling his musings away from that unpleasant train (argh) of thought. Somewhere near the door, a chime tinkled. His gaze drifted.
Pink. And masked shabbiness, but it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. It had wonderful heating, for one thing. The waiters, he noticed, weren't in uniform, except for their smiles. It was neat; well organized despite the eclectic mix of stools, plastic tables, iron tables, and softer seats. The wallpaper – the only real pink thing in the shop, he realized – had faded floral patterns, and sported several bright paintings. In the corner stood a keyed instrument which Riku supposed was a deformed cousin of the piano, (he couldn't really tell), a mandolin (he couldn't tell, either) and other exotic instruments (he didn't even try to name them).
The customers themselves seemed happy enough, based on the snatches of conversation that reached his ears. A lot were regulars, exchanging small talk and jokes with each other and the waiters. The air was homey, cheerful; Riku had already forgotten the chipping paint, the hand-repaired furniture and the faded walls. Quaint, he thought; quaint, there's no other word for it, damned quaint and damned nice despite everything.
And the food – maybe it was the hunger talking, but hell if everything looked good. And smelled better. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed. He stared at the menu.
"How may I help you, sir?" someone at his side chirped, (light in tone, slightly husky, not that he was taking notes) and he looked up.
Déjà vu.
Wide blue eyes blinked down at him, the pink lips forming a little 'o' right before morphing into a blindingly huge smile. Now where had he seen that before?
"Hi, stranger! Nice to see you here outside traffic and all." The brown spikes were bobbing up and down, swaying slightly, and Riku wondered why he was looking at them with such interest. His head buzzed faintly; there was a twinge somewhere in his chest.
"…called Sora by the way, Sora Strife, that's S-O-R-A space S-T-R-I-F-E, your waiter for today, so, what'd ya like?"
Strange, the edges of his vision were beginning to blur. He didn't think that was normal… was it? Damn. The twinge became a thump. His stomach pains stopped being so sharp. Somewhere along the line his ears had stopped working. The boy was talking; he assumed it had to be about his order.
"Oh, yeah, since you know my name, (and we've met already so it's not like this is 'inappropriately fraternizing with the customers') doncha think it's fair to tell me yours? Um. Are you listening?"
What the hell was his heart doing? Riku could feel it tightening. Oh yeah, order… hot chocolate first, perhaps some soup... He furrowed his brows, reaching for his wallet, only to realize – it wasn't there. Maybe it was in his pocket? He searched himself – gone. Huh. Where did it go? His mind was having trouble connecting the dots.
"…hello? Are you okay?"
It had been in his hand, hadn't it? Then he'd gotten out of the phone booth, and got knocked down… Oh. So that was it. Pickpocket. Or maybe he'd dropped it. Fuck. Riku would have been very, very alarmed – if only his heart wasn't acting so strange. Like it was wound up tight. And he was finding very, very hard to concentrate. Wait, why was the table rushing up to his face?
"SIR!"
Then he was being shaken rather damn hard, hard enough to snap out of his fuzzy, numbing daze, and the first thing he saw was a flushed, panicked face, and the first thing he felt in this clearness was anger, red-hot swirling anger at this boy (with his goddamn sympathetic Mona Lisa smile and his distracting blue summer sky eyes and his healthy tanned skin and his happy, husky voice with the carefree tone, not that he was taking notes, dammit, because he wasn't) because it was all his fault, everything, if he hadn't talked to Riku he wouldn't have tripped and gotten lost and gotten robbed and gotten in this fucking situation damn him – and immediately Riku was back in his hazy, muted world of jet lag and hunger and plain, cold exhaustion – and sudden, utter darkness.
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Somewhere far, far away, someone was watching the drama unfold, just like you did. Unlike you, however, he was watching with the smug satisfaction that comes from seeing everything go according to plan. Even better than the plan.
"Hahaaa… that's what I'm talkin' about," he grinned, rubbing red claw-tips together in anticipation. He couldn't wait until the next step. This was going to be good.
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"Showtime."
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1. Riku doesn't know what he's talking about. But neither do I, so. D:
Cookies to the one who can figure out the identity mister 'aha, showtime!' Hint: he's Disney.
My first actual KH story, and jj is nervous – no beta to sort through all the crap. So please help! Leave a review, suggestion, or comment! Recommending a fun R/S fic is nice, too. Or an AkuRoku. This girl needs more KH fic to read.
Anyway, thanks for reading. Love y'all, dearies. XD