I'm like, on a roll right now for this story.

I wonder why… XD

Also, I apologize for my last short chapters. Just didn't know what more to add, since I wanted it to end with Riku introducing himself. Anyway…

Before I go on, I want to give a humungous thank-you to my reviewers so far, and anyone who adds this to their alert list, favorite list, etc. I feel like I'm about to fly when I find that my email has been bombed by FanFiction. So, thank you!

Note: Edited on 7/21/12

Something to Fight For

Chapter Three: Enigma

Man, I blew it.

No, I didn't.

…

I pause, reassessing the last few minutes in my head.

Urgh. Yes, I did.

I turn around to see her wave at me, both awkwardly and hopefully—an interesting combination.

Why does this feel so wrong?

There were a lot of times when everything felt wrong, and I could do nothing about it. I remember raising my Keyblade high in the air, Sora kneeling before me.

"Open the door, lead me into everlasting darkness!"

I can't believe I said that.

Ansem's spirit had been within my body, and he willed me to strike down on my friend. But inside I was screaming in horror. No! NO!

No one could hear me.

I can still recall the feelings of my days in the Realm of Darkness, after I was locked in. The only reason Sora had agreed to close the door was because I was smiling. After that, I'd wanted to see his face again. The face that always helped me, to ignore the bad parts of life and appreciate the good ones. Because for some reason, Sora was blind to everything bad that ever happened to him. I'd wandered for days, endlessly, not knowing if I had any purpose left. A reason to exist.

I'd missed them so much. Sora. And Kairi.

And now I'm back home, with my two best friends.

Yet, seeing her waving at me, my heart feels heavy. I have a sudden urge to pull her into an embrace, run my hands through her almost luminous hair. Her cheeks look so soft to touch.

But I can't. Not after what just happened.

"Hi, I'm Riku."

She still seems a little out of it, but gives me a smile nonetheless. However, it's a nervous smile, one that holds questions as well as answers. It's a welcoming smile, warm but unyielding. Guarded, in some way. Friendly. And yet, mysterious as well.

But there's one thing about that small curve of her lips that eclipses all other emotions, all other secrets hidden behind those beautiful green-brown eyes.

It's real.

I can feel the automatic grin spreading across my face in response, before I can even register any thoughts. Some people, like Sora, have contagious laughter.

This smile would make the grim reaper smile in return.

"My name's Theresa," she says slowly, and I wonder why she keeps glancing down at her feet. My palms are suddenly sweaty, and the hair that never bothered me is all at once annoying me to death. I suddenly find myself trying to remember if I put deodorant on this morning.

"You can…call me Tara," she adds with a hint of hesitation, pushing a lock of hair back, the long sleeves of her dress swaying elegantly. I have a feeling that boy calls her Tara. I decide I'll call her that too.

"It's nice to meet you, Tara. Are you new here?" I ask genuinely.

She looks up in surprise. "Um, actually, no… I lived here a long time ago, when I was little, but then I moved away. Now I'm back." She tries to sound enthusiastic, but I can hear the strain behind her loud, smooth voice. I'm making a list of reasons on why she has come back, but the possibilities are endless. I wait for her to go on.

She doesn't elaborate.

"So… you moved back here because…?" I'm trying to prompt her into speaking.

She shakes her head slowly. She doesn't want to tell me.

"Where do you live?"

She freezes, as if I've just asked her if she wants to die.

Maybe she thinks I'm a stalker.

"Never mind."

Dejected, I lean against a tree, stuffing my hands in my pockets as her dress flutters in the breeze, her curly hair escaping from behind her ears. Patiently, she pushes them back, not looking at me. I can see a floral pattern now, etched into the lace of her dress. She was wearing the same exact outfit yesterday, I notice.

Wait, how do I know that?

I'm more observant than I thought. How strange.

There is a small silence that stretches my sanity to the limit. I've spent most of my life in muteness, but none have affected me so drastically. I desperately search for something to say.

"I like your dress."

Wow. That was so lame.

She turns red, but doesn't reply. She's no longer smiling, I realize with a jolt. Instead, her lips are pressed into an unnervingly thin line, as if she's holding back a scream. Did I say something wrong?

I sigh and push my weight off the tree, running one hand through my hair. The sky has darkened, the sun now lost from our vision.

"I saw you at the zip line yesterday." I try again.

At last, her eyes rise to meet mine, her long, think eye-lashes prominent against her light skin. I'm taken aback at the fear in her eyes.

"You looked like you were having a lot of fun." I add, attempting to show her that I don't mean any harm.

But apparently, that's not what it seemed like, because suddenly she bursts into tears, her face disappearing behind her hands, her shoulders shaking as her body is wracked with sudden sobs.

"Hey," I say in a softer voice, confused and overwhelmed. Why is she crying? What did I say? I replay my words over in my head, but in no context do they come out as even slightly upsetting.

"Hey," I repeat, gently stepping forward, "Why are you crying…?" I'm not sure how I'm supposed to handle the situation. I glance around, but there is nobody here but the two of us. And for some reason, letting her go on sobbing doesn't seem like an option.

I reach forward slowly and touch her shoulder to show her some kind of comfort, but as soon as we come in contact, she cringes away. I swear I just heard my heart stop beating. And I feel hurt.

"I'm… I'm sorry," she says unexpectedly, between tears. "But could you please leave?"

The words reach me like a punch in the gut, and I back away instantly, staring at her. She's crossed her arms across her chest, and she isn't looking at me anymore. Instead her eyes are downcast, but I can still see the streaks of tears running down her cheeks.

I'm walking for only a few seconds before I break into a run, wanting to get farther away from here than I can. Coming here was a mistake. But when I reach the door, the temptation to turn around is too much, and I find myself staring at her small figure. She's shaking, hugging herself in the cold, and I suddenly hate myself for leaving her there.

But then again, I can't go back, either.

She looks up, and even from here I can tell her eyes are bloodshot. Her face is tinted red.

Our eyes lock for a moment, and I can sense her hesitation. Slowly, she raises a hand in good bye, as if she's asking for my forgiveness. Trying to tell me that I should not take it personally.

But I have taken it personally. I may not know why she suddenly started to cry, or what she is thinking, but I am sure of one thing: she is afraid of me. And that is the worst possible thing that could've happened.

I want to turn my back on her, shut her out of my life forever. I never did anything to harm her, and she sank away from my touch as if I were something vulgar.

But something inside me argues that there must be a reason. And I can't just leave her standing there, feeling utterly alone. My hands clench into fists once more when I remember how she embraced that boy. She seemed to move around him so easily, effortlessly, as though it was second nature to her. How could she recoil from my slightest touch? And even more so, how dare that boy leave her here to fend for herself? It seems like a despicable action.

I loosen the muscles in my hands and look up again, my grey hair falling over my vision for the umpteenth time. Her hand is beginning to quiver but she's still holding it up for me to see. Without another second of hesitation, I raise my hand.

And I wave back.