I do not own Kingdom Hearts

Riku woke to a series of loud, obnoxious knocks on his door across the hall. He could make out Sora's voice yelling for him to come out and the sound of feet shuffling in the house. He had no idea what time it was, but he could tell by the liveliness of the hall that it was late. Sora continued banging on his door for a few more minutes, and then finally, from the sound of it, forced it open. Riku cringed; he had locked his door from the outside last night. If it was broken, Sora was going to pay. (He was relieved that he hadn't tried Keiya's door, though, or they would have been caught red-handed, subject to teasing for the rest of the summer.)

Keiya was sleeping next to him, her arms still loosely around his neck, her hands entangled in some of his hair. She hadn't moved at all since the previous night; she had stayed right up against him, sleeping soundly and deeply. Her hair was strewn around on the pillow they were kind of sharing—though she was more so leaning into him—and her breaths teased the skin of his neck. He yawned and tightened his hold around her body. He didn't want to move; everything was too perfect.

Sounds of Sora now knocking on what was probably his bathroom door started up again, and Riku groaned and heaved himself up, tearing away from her. His arms felt empty without her to hold onto. The knocking continued, and then to add to the interruptions, a woodpecker took its place on the roof of their wing of the house. The pecking mixed in with the sharp raps on the door in his room; he couldn't fall back asleep now, as much as he wanted to. Out in the hall, the day was already well underway and the corridors were full of footsteps and greetings. Birds outside had finished singing their morning tunes hours ago and now the cicadas were taking their turn, humming in the dry noon heat of summer. The sunlight streamed in through the window, which he had forgotten to close, and brightened the room enough to blind. It seemed as though all of nature was sending him a wake-up call.

He gazed back down at Keiya, who he could see well now that he was sitting up. Her breathing was soft and steady and her face completely serene. The light that poured in from the window lit up her creamy off-white skin, allowing Riku to observe her in a different light than the last night. She had some very small traces of dirt on her cheek from falling in the mud, so he automatically brought a thumb to her face to wipe them away. She didn't have a single beauty mark or freckle on her skin; nothing except for the small, gray brand on the underside of her left wrist. He could watch her like this forever and never cease to be entranced.

At Sora's continued yelling and searching through Riku's room, Keiya finally started to wake up. She stirred a little bit with her hands lost in the blankets now that Riku had withdrawn himself from her, (although one of his arms still lingered around her waist.) His heart picked up pace; he had to mentally psyche himself up for whatever she was going to say to him. He reminded himself once again that he had to end this argument, not keep it going. Now was the best time to talk to her, so he couldn't blow it. Otherwise, he might not get another chance to make her listen.

Keiya was on the edge of sleep and wake. She was trying to ignore the annoying noises coming from atop the roof and out in the hall, and also the terrible ache she could feel in the back of her head. Only half of her mind was really paying any attention to the bustle being muffled by her door; the other half was desperately grasping onto the sleep she was so forcefully being pried out of. She struggled to stay focused on the blankets and the sunlight, both warming her body, but with footsteps creating a storm on the wooden floor and water thundering down from showerheads throughout the hall, it was becoming more and more difficult. The final straw came when she heard a door slam a little ways off, making her jump, but she didn't finally open her eyes until she felt something move on her waist, a subtle shift of warmth. Her heart lurched and she shot up instinctually, her defenses kicking in. Her automatic assumption was that some kind of creature or stranger was lurking in her room, and she gave a quick shriek at the movement, which echoed off the wall. But instead, sitting on the bed next to her was Riku, who was alarmed by her sudden outburst. He was beneath the blankets with her and his arm was loosely draped over her waist. Her mind went numb and her mouth went dry—memories of their fight began pouring back into her. She felt as though someone had knocked her over, made her senseless. She had no idea what was going on—why was he in her room?

Riku swallowed and quickly regained his composure. She was watching him apprehensively as they sat in a few second of silence. She had paled considerably and was clutching the blankets close to her body for protection. He leaned forward and tried to speak, calmly and kindly, but she cut him off right away.

"U-um, how are you—"

"Riku? What the hell are you doing in here?" she yelled, smacking his arm off her waist and scooting backward and away from him frantically. He couldn't be in here—he wasn't allowed to be. And why should he even want to be—he had said so himself, he was pissed off at her. This was so wrong, so unreal. And then, as she tried to let the concept sink in, she realized that his shirt was entirely undone, just hanging from his shoulders to reveal his lean, toned torso. She felt the blood rush to her face and tried to avoid staring. She was so jittery with nerves and lost as to the situation to begin with—seeing him in bed next to her with his shirt practically missing definitely added to her frustration. Wasn't just seeing him in her room so early punishment for her envy enough? And now that she was upright, she felt a piercing ache in her head start to surface. It was deep and internal, and made her that much less able to tolerate so much surprise in one morning. She couldn't recollect anything that had happened, anything that would have led to this. And what freaked her out more was the sight she caught, out of the corner of her eye, of the dress she remembered wearing to the dance discarded on the floor, off to the side of her room. She didn't remember changing, or getting back to the house… she didn't remember anything, and it was driving her crazy. Here he was, acting all collected, next to her, in her bed, when the last she could remember, they weren't even on speaking terms. How did all of this happen? We were at that dance… I don't remember coming back here… or changing! Oh my God—did he change my clothes? she panicked shakily. She saw Riku stretch his hands above his head, causing his shirt to open up wider and reveal more of his alluring, bare chest. She ignored the flush of scarlet she felt surface on her face. Was this some sort of sick dream? Some kind of spiteful nightmare to mock her for her jealousy?

Riku did his best to remain the calm one, and gently reached out for her hand again, which she folded away in rejection. Ugh, she's so upset… I knew this was a bad idea… he thought regretfully.

"Just calm down—I want to talk to you—" he started. He didn't want to start up again—especially not so early in the morning, with the whole Committee wandering around right outside in the hallway. He knew she was probably confused and afraid, since she had no idea what had happened. He had gotten hours to think and reflect and chill out. She only remembered being angry at him.

"I don't want to talk to you! I want you to get out!" she cried. She still didn't want to believe that all this was actually happening. Wasn't he mad at her? Why was he being so conciliatory? And what was he doing in her room? She tried her hardest to place what had happened last, where she last remembered being. That party, and then with that guy… Riku was there, too… and then I don't…

"Look, just relax," he ordered firmly, trying to keep a hold on either her hand or her waist without her pushing him away; he didn't want her to try and run off. "I just want to talk to you—"

"I said get out!" she commanded in a frenzy, pointing toward the door. She backed herself further into the headboard, upset and panicked by his presence. She had tears collecting in her eyes and was holding her head to try and ease the ache. "I don't want you here—just leave me alone! You have your little girlfriend, don't you? Why didn't you sleep in her room? Ugh, what are you even doing here…?" she trailed off to herself, not even caring about the remark that had slipped out of her mouth.

"W-what? Are you talking about that—ugh, she's not my girlfriend! If you'd just listen to me, I can explain everything!" he struggled to get in. "Calm down! I'll tell you—"

"Just get the hell out of my room!"

"Would you let me talk for one second? Keiya!"

When he saw her move to get up, he lunged forward and grasped her arm tightly, making her gasp in pain for a moment. He would have let go right away if she didn't keep fighting him; she tried to pry his hand off of her relentlessly, longing to escape the prison of a situation she was trapped in. But Riku was unwilling to give up—he wanted to settle this now; he couldn't wait another hour or day. He forcibly pulled her away from the edge of the bed, unfortunately hurting her in the process, then pushed her down by the shoulders into the mess of blankets and pillows below. He climbed on top of her, pinned her wrists with his hands, and held her feet down with his own, in case she tried to kick him. She didn't cease fighting him for one second; she squirmed beneath him to be let free. But he didn't give into her pained cries or even loosen his grip on her wrists.

"Get off me—pervert!" she shrieked thoughtlessly, thrashing. Even though she knew she couldn't fight him off—he was much stronger than she was—she wanted to make it as difficult for him as possible. She hated being cornered against her will, and now he was right on top of her, holding her down.

Riku looked at her confusedly, taken aback. Did he just hear what he thought he heard?

"W-what?"

"Riku, Get off of me!" she screamed again, trying in vain to slip her wrists out of his hard grip. The more she tried, the harder he held her, but she couldn't bring herself to relax.

"You're calling me a pervert? I saved you last night! From a rapist, remember?" he said dryly, looking down at her in disgust.

"So you could change my clothes and sleep in my bed? Now get off!"

"I just—ugh, listen!

" Jerk…! Let go of me!"

"I'm not letting you up until you talk to me!" he threatened. He tried to put her accusations out of mind for the time being. He didn't want to get too off-topic—he needed to get her to reconcile with him. He could explain this whole mess later.

"I don't have anything to say to you!" she spat out. Her voice cracked, as she was finally starting to become worn-out. She had a few tears trailing down the side of her face from the whole ordeal, and when she finally slowed down in her attempts to free herself, Riku loosened his hold on her wrists a little bit, so at least he wasn't hurting her anymore. He would have liked to wipe some of the tears away, but didn't want to risk letting her go just yet.

"Then let me talk," he started, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist throwing in her opinion. He swallowed nervously, trying to figure out how he wanted to word this. The icy look she was sending him, mixed with the tears, convinced him to loosen his hold further. "I hurt you, the other day, didn't I? When I was talking to that other girl?" he asked firmly, determined to get an honest answer from her.

Keiya choked back a cry; she didn't want him to see her any more upset than she already was. But he had hit the nail on the head. She felt like he was looking right into her, through her. It was like she couldn't put up any barriers to keep him from reading into her every emotion. How could he do that, tell exactly what she was feeling? She hated how he had that power over her; there was no way to hide anything from him. His eyes saw through everything. And since he was hovering right above her, there was nowhere else for her to look—it was just him and her, and she couldn't avoid his gaze. She felt like she was dying there, humiliated, trapped, lost in the honesty and depth of his irises, and so royally pissed off that he was forcing her to make-up. She refused to budge an inch. There was still so much to be mad at, after all. But he was slowly melting her, and she hated it. Of course she was hurt. She couldn't stand seeing him with someone else—talking, laughing, flirting with someone else. She wanted him all to herself; he had been hers these past two months. Not once had she had to cope with seeing him flirt with another woman. She was relieved that at least it was a stranger and not someone close to him, who could pose serious competition. She didn't know what she would do if he were to begin spending his time with some other girl. She would be so embarrassed to leave, to let him know that she was only hanging around because of him. But on the flip side, could she really live here, day by day, having to watch him hold some other girl's hand or play with some other girl's hair? She would die. She blinked a few times to chase off the nightmarish thoughts and realized he was still staring down at her, awaiting an answer. She swallowed; what could she say?

"I-I told you… you can do whatever you want," she murmured flatly, half of her bent steadfast on denying her heartache, the other half frustrated that she couldn't just give in and stop being so mad at him. Riku sighed, trying to stay patient.

"That doesn't answer my question. I was with that girl the whole night—I talked to her, danced with her… did that mean anything to you at all?" he asked again, lowering his face an inch closer to hers; he was getting tired, holding himself up and still holding her down. He tried to be intent with her, straight-forward so that nothing else seeped into the conversation. And so that she didn't misunderstand. He knew how difficult this was for her—not talking like this and being pinned down, but disregarding the overwhelming situation she had woken up to. She didn't remember anything—he had a feeling she wouldn't. But he knew that she would never let him explain anything that had happened at the dance if she was still mad at him for his 'conceited attitude,' as she had put it, if that's what she was really mad about. It was killing him—he needed to know whether or not she was jealous. He was almost sure she was, from what had slipped out last night, but he wanted to hear it from her, sober, to satisfy his insecurity in the matter. He needed to clear up all of the vague answers she had given him; that he could do what he wanted, that he should have just said 'yes' to the girl's request right away, that he had no reason to be angry, that she had no reason to care. He just wanted her to be more open, more possessive, in a way. He couldn't stand hearing her act as if their relationship was nothing special, nothing obligatory or legitimate. He needed to rub out that gray area.

Is he serious? Did he hurt me? He stared down at her with that determined look in his eye, and for some reason, it reminded her of when she would spar with Sai—the look he'd give her when he'd get her pinned; one of ferocity, competition, and that same blind determination. Keiya couldn't take the pressure anymore; she cracked. Tears began streaming freely from her eyes, unaccompanied by cries, but overflowing with the pent-up pain, anxiety, and sorrow that had been swelling in her heart and throat. The throbbing in her head only worsened with the release of stress. So much else was weighing on her mind right now, aside from the heavy argument that had tarnished their relationship these past couple of days.

Riku finally melted, being so close to her and seeing her cry. He had to let her go. She looked so sad; he couldn't go through with this strategy. He cursed himself inwardly for being a sap and removed his hands from her wrists, which were now a hue of red, and then rolled off of her and kneeled next to her. He had made her cry again.

Keiya sat up slowly, shaking as all the emotions inside her mixed and collided and repelled each other. Once again, she was helpless in front of him. She could hear how sharp her breaths were, cutting through the almost nonexistent pattern of humming from the cicadas. Riku watched her with concern, trying to get a glimpse of her face which she was holding down. She clutched her left wrist—the gray mark on her skin had turned a deeper shade at the lack of circulation. She swallowed, still feeling a lump in her throat. When she could finally bring herself to glance up at him, after wiping some of the tears stains away, she quickly raised a hand and struck him hard across the face.

"What do you think?" she burst out, her voice cracking and quivering. "Of course I was upset!" She clenched the blankets to try and keep from shaking uncontrollably. "You think… you think that I don't care? I can't stop caring—it's eating away at me! I probably shouldn't care, with all your teasing and stuck-up remarks!"

Riku brought a hand to his face, feeling a slight burn from where she had hit him. His face stung; he could tell it was probably a little red. He was surprised she was strong enough to actually hurt him, between her cries that now went unconcealed. But her words came as a wave of relief; she had been jealous. She seemed to be getting out all of the tension that had built up over the couple of days they were battling. She tried in vain to cover her eyes and her face, to salvage any last bits of dignity she could. Her mind was reeling so much that she couldn't finish a single thought. She was nervous, agitated, frantic, and just tired. She couldn't stop trembling. After about a minute of sitting in the tense, anxious atmosphere, she impulsively reached up to slap him again, just because he was sitting there and not saying anything. He was much better prepared for it this time, though, and caught her hand before she could make contact with his face.

"Jerk!" she cried thoughtlessly, withdrawing her hand harshly from his when he tried to entwine his fingers around hers. He sighed and restrained himself from touching her; he knew if he so much as placed a hand on her shoulder, she would flip.

"If you were jealous, why didn't you just tell me when I asked the other day?"

"Because…!" she tried, "I just…!" She didn't manage to get it out—more tears came instead, but he got the picture. She couldn't.

Riku sat there, watching her cry, waiting for her to calm down a little before he spoke. She was definitely unapproachable at the moment; if he weren't already here, and in such a mess of a situation, he might leave it for later. But he couldn't stop now; he had managed to crumble the pride and shyness that usually got in the way of such discussions. It used to be so strange even to think of talking so freely about them, their relationship. And while he did feel a little guilty for having forced her into such a state, he was entirely relieved. For the first time, after two months of together but not, she finally expressed some sort of attachment to him, something that implied more than just friendly affection. He didn't feel like there should be anything to be embarrassed about. He had wanted for so long for her to be open with him, not only with this relatively trivial matter, but with everything—her fears, her weaknesses, her childhood. Everything she flat out avoided conversing about. This felt like one step closer to reaching that goal, to breaking down the hard, sturdy walls they had both built up over the years. He could make her cry, make her angry, make her envious… he hadn't realized earlier just how much of an impact he could have on her, and it felt selfish to have even wanted it. But there was no doubt anymore; she was already his, after all the doubt and worry.

She continued to sob uncontrollably, in waves, clutching the blankets with one hand and letting her bangs cover her face. She couldn't believe where she was: here, crying hysterically in front of him, telling him how much he had hurt her, how her previous claims that she didn't care what he did were all lies. She felt herself shatter from the stronger, more placid person she had promised herself she'd be. And yet, at the same time, she felt a millions times better, lighter. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders; she was free of the burdening secret she carried—that overwhelming, seemingly sinful desire to have him all to herself, for him to look only at her and disregard other girls. It was a strange and new concept for her—she had never had a relationship before, and certainly had never had anything worth competing over. Suddenly, in one life-changing encounter, she was being immersed in this world of new feelings, both positive and negative. Her submission to the reconciliation Riku had been trying to force out of her provided the means necessary to get back the one thing she wanted, above all else and despite her outrage: to be with him again.

But the one last, dreadful thing that bothered her was that look on his face. Though Riku was considerably softer and gentler in his sternness, she couldn't help but draw the automatic comparison to Sai, and it killed her. They were nothing alike—nothing alike at all. She couldn't stand the thought of them being similar in any way. Sai was still immature in ways that Riku wasn't—he was dangerously stubborn, more vengeful than Riku could ever manage, and competitive to the point of obsession. The problem was that Riku, years ago, had been the same way—she remembered. She could still recall the things she'd heard, the few things she had witnessed behind the scenes. How drastically he had pursued the keyblade, how quick he was to engage in combat with his friends, and how desperate he had been for power—just like Sai was now, always looking to be stronger, more intimidating to his inferiors. But she locked those thoughts away into the depths of her mind—she didn't want to think about it. Riku was nothing like him, not now, and not ever again. She tried to focus on the most immediate problem: that Riku was here in her room asking whether or not he had hurt her. And she was upset, but alright. Everything was alright, because they were nothing alike. Riku was so kind and gentle… she shouldn't compare them. He was more than she could have ever dreamed of—Sai couldn't compare to him. No, there was nothing to dwell over. And she realized now that he didn't deserve this animosity. He was so good to her; she didn't want to start up again.

Riku cautiously brought a hand up to her face when he felt she might be calm enough to talk. She was more still and composed, though slouched over a little to hide the tears. He carefully stroked back some of the hair in front of her face to reveal her eyes, still wet but less swollen. She thought she might push him away, but the warmth of his touch coaxed her into accepting. He always handled her so tenderly, always with affection. He had steered her attention away from the paranoid thoughts of comparison and back onto the scene in an instant.

"Y'know… I wanted you to be jealous," he admitted calmly. He felt her tense a tiny bit. "I wanted to get your attention. I guess that sounds pretty selfish, huh?"

Keiya could swear she felt her heart stop for a few seconds. What?

"You're probably thinking that I'm a jerk right now… I guess I am, for letting you get hurt last night… Do you remember?" he asked regretfully.

She shook her head 'no,' trying to comprehend what he was telling her. He'd wanted to make her jealous. Jealous. The terrible, heart-wrenching feeling that had been making her sick and depressed for the entire previous day—he'd wanted her to feel that for him?

"How do you feel?" she heard him ask suddenly.

"Fine," she lied simply. Her head still ached terribly and she felt weak with exhaustion and hunger.

"No, seriously, I need to know whether or not you need medicine," he stated firmly, taking the temperature of her forehead with his hand. She looked up at him in confusion as he hopped off her bed and strode to her bathroom. He was kind of on edge; he had so much he needed to tell her, so much he wanted to say, and yet he was finding it difficult to express anything. He didn't want to have to be so blunt, but there really was no other way to put it. He had wanted her to be jealous. It was that simple, but he felt like there should be something more, something less one-track. He sighed and wet his fingers in the water a little, then ran them through his disheveled hair. He smirked to himself; if there weren't so much else weighing on their minds, they would probably be more concerned with how they looked, with their bed-hair and all. He rummaged through the medicine cabinet above her sink and pulled out a small container of pills, then filled a glass of water and went to meet her back at the bed.

Keiya crossed her arms to her chest, relieved now that the urge to cry was starting to die down. She had no idea how he knew she was feeling sick, but she was too preoccupied to care. She knew her eyes looked red; she could feel the blood in her head still rushing. Now what? She wanted to say something to him, but couldn't find the words to do so. She was trying as hard as she could to keep the knowledge that he had been sleeping in her bed shirtless and that her clothes had somehow been changed at the back of her mind at the moment. Part of her was afraid even to ask or think about it too hard; she had a feeling it would be something embarrassing. Instead, Riku's words rang through her head. He wanted to make me jealous? Why? That's so… stupid. Unfair. Is that why he even flirted with her in the first place? To try and get me to say that I was jealous? She couldn't comprehend why he would even think to do something like that. Sure, she had striven to do the same thing when she saw him watching her with that guy at the party, but she hadn't started it. She couldn't fathom why he would want to make her angry.

She glanced at the clock while Riku was looking for medicine. It was already a quarter to twelve; by the time she showered and dressed, it would be past noon. She wondered what she would do today. It was a day off; she remembered Leon saying so because of the late night party and predicted humid weather. (Normally, they'd be at work rain or shine, but since everyone was probably still recuperating from the celebrations, as well as finishing the clean up from the party, he had decided to call it a heat day. It wasn't like they were in a rush anymore to build shelter, so she supposed it didn't matter.) But that left her with a dilemma—she had always spent her days off with Riku, and there was no doubt that he'd want to take her out again. But she couldn't even look at him without being reminded of the awful things she'd said to him, how much she had yelled at him. She hated feeling so guilty—it was like she couldn't relax. She could see so much clearer now that she had had time to think. Back in the heat of the argument, words had spilled from her mouth that she hadn't been able to control. Now it was like she was back in her normal, settled mindset. She wanted to be able to spend the days with him, talk with him, laugh with him, just like she always had, but the guilt was slowly deteriorating her; she wanted him to know that she didn't mean what she said. She didn't think he was insincere—quite the opposite. Especially after meeting that snobby, awkward socialite—no, Riku wasn't insincere. Nor was he conceited; he always thought of her, always protected her, and always wanted to spend time with her. Ugh, why did I say those things to him… and then when he came later, I didn't even let him speak… He was right- I was immature…

When Riku sat back down at the edge of the bed, she felt a cloud of pressure encircle her, egging her on to say something. She felt stupid, suddenly trying to apologize. Apologizing at all felt strange—she never fought with anyone like that before. She wasn't entirely sure if he would want to accept. The only other person she had ever really fought with was Sai, and whenever she had had spats with him, they were never all out fight-fights. Not this kind, that hurt her and made her cry her heart out. He just annoyed her, straight up. She felt better when they weren't on speaking terms—she could relax for once without him at her back all the time. But with Riku, she felt miserable, like she was in the wrong, like she needed to fix it. She hoped she could resolve it. And to top the discomfort all off, there was the fact that, apparently, she had no idea what was going on, because the last time she checked, she was at the dance, desperately seeking his attention, pining for him to look at her. But she trusted him enough to put that on hold until she could at least get rid of the lingering anxiety and gloom that was present in the air.

"Here—these should help," he said, handing her the pills. "You might want to lie down for a little while after this. You have a fever. Probably since we were out late last night..."

She let him hand her the pills, but made no move to take them yet. "Riku…" she started quietly, her throat feeling dry, "I… I didn't mean to call you insincere… or conceited… or arrogant. I know you're not any of those things…"

Riku's heart leapt with surprise. He saw her nervously rub her arm a little, her head bowed. She was anxious, but ready to end it. He let a small smile creep onto his lips, relaxed a little bit, and shifted so that he was sitting closer to her.

She focused on the pills in her hand to avoid looking at him. He was shirtless, after all—she could swear that that was the cause of her fever. He gently placed a hand on her waist, and when she didn't shove him away, loosely wrapped his arms around her.

"Okay," he said simply. She practically melted; after all that anxiety and pressure, he just said, 'okay.' He continued, "I want you to know… I wasn't making fun of you with that girl. And I wasn't trying to flirt or anything like that. But I got mad because… you said it didn't matter to you, and I wanted it to. I guess I just felt like… you were saying that "we" didn't mean anything to you..."

"N-no… I thought you were just being a—"

"A jerk?" he finished amusedly.

"Yeah…" she murmured sorrowfully.

"I wouldn't do that to you… I mean, I wouldn't tease you or treat you like…" ...like that guy…

Keiya let herself lean into him a little, allowing his arms to tighten around her. She still had jittery butterflies in her stomach, but now she was just relieved. A stupid misunderstanding… and we said all that terrible stuff, too… Everything seemed lighter, even though there were still questions she wanted answered, things that needed mending. But she was sure everything would turn out okay. It might take a while, but she was done fighting and cursing him—she had forgotten how much she loved just being like this, sitting next to him, in his arms. They had both made mistakes, both been immature. She was still ticked that he had worked so hard just to make her envious, and that he thought he could charm her the same way he did another girl, but it didn't seem as important anymore. To keep going wasn't worth this serenity. Overall, she was happy; they weren't finished, and he wasn't just playing with her.

Riku was overjoyed to be able to hold her without feeling guilty like last night. He knew that over the course of these few days, including this morning, he had broken her down excessively, made her crumble to tears. And he vowed to himself never to do it again. He wanted to be able to act more mature and stay more collected. He tended to forget just how inexperienced she was and how quickly she had been flung into this civilian life, after spending thirteen years hidden away with limited outside influence. And his way of making her envy that girl, envy any girl that he talked to, was just plain cruel. He knew he was going to have a hard time getting over it, as he did everything else. But he was glad that he had gotten to redeem himself last night before the consequences of his actions could get her seriously hurt and violated. He didn't even want to think about what could have happened had he not stepped in to save her. She could be in some other guy's room right that moment, crying, broken, going absolutely crazy, instead of sitting here, after just crying in front of him, for reasons that seemed comparably petty. He didn't even know how he would cope with that, knowing what he would have done to her—what he would have let someone else do. Then, it would be over. Then, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"So you'll… you'll hang out with me today?" he inquired, as a way of asking if she still wanted to be with him.

"Yeah…" she said, holding back a mild laugh. "Tomorrow, too, if you want…"

He smiled to himself. "That's good," he said gratefully. He took a breath, feeling uncharacteristically shy. "I… I know I don't say it often, but… I really do love you… and you don't have to worry about other girls or anything like that…" he reassured her nervously.

She felt her blood rush in bliss and her face heat up significantly. She couldn't help but completely melt, despite how outraged she had been at him before. He was right; he hadn't said so once since the first time- that he loved her. Just the thought of those words made her queasy with delight. She could tell she would stutter with whatever she said next. His arms were so comforting around her, his voice so soft, and his body so warm. She leaned into the skin below the crook of his neck, completely intoxicated by his scent.

"O-okay…" she managed to whisper shyly. She sensed him smile into her hair. Part of her felt like she was letting him off the hook too easily, that she should give him a harder time, but right now, she didn't care. She just wanted to sit like this and enjoy every minute of this peaceful, perfect embrace. At least for a few minutes, before she kicked him out. He was so…amazing to her in every way. How could she have tried to compare him to someone as graceless and rough as her former comrade? She shifted forward very subtly to try and get him to hold her tighter for a few more seconds. "A-and… I love you, too… sorry…" she murmured stupidly, finally managing to spill it out. He let out a short laugh, seemingly knowing that her apology was a self-conscious impulse and for nothing in particular. She blushed and pulled away from him before he could get too cozy.

"Now why are you in here?" she finally asked, slipping out of his arms. She kept her arms crossed self consciously as if to hide that she was wearing a nightgown.

"Well, you asked me to stay. Don't you remember?" he said kind of smugly, unable to help lightening the mood.

She swallowed nervously, suppressing a blush. She shook her head; she must have been exhausted, not to remember anything after the party. She assumed he had carried her back here, which would mean she had to have fallen asleep there. She thought she must have passed out or something… she hadn't eaten very much yesterday—she was too upset. That must be the reason… Ugh, how embarrassing…

"I don't think I asked you to take your shirt off," she said defensively.

"No, you did that yourself."

She pushed him away from her and pretended to fix the blankets around them that were scattered about. The tension earlier had melted away for the most part, and now she could focus on the problem right in front of her. She had no idea what he was talking about—what the hell had happened? Why couldn't she recall anything? She didn't even know what to say to him, while he was wearing his teasing smile that she could slap right off his face. Wasn't he just apologizing to her? He was mood-swinging worse than she ever had.

"You should go get dressed," she hinted, turning toward the door. He laughed, knowing how perplexed she must be. Instead of handling things the delicate way, letting her sort things out, he couldn't help but want to pour little bits of information onto her, just to see her reaction.

"Already? It's only… twelve thirty," he said nonchalantly, stretching his arms. She shot him a glare that clearly read she was not amused. He lounged back on the foot board just to spite her; he knew he was having way too much fun, but he was so relieved and so excited to be done with this argument. (And now that things were all cleared up, it really did seem very stupid.)

She racked her brain for an excuse—she was so bewildered and flustered, she needed to get him out. "I'll meet you in the hallway later—I don't feel good."

"Yeah, you probably have a hangover. You should take those pills," he said matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the capsules in her hand.

"What?"

"So I'll meet you in the hallway? Say, in an hour?" he asked casually, standing up.

"Wait—what do you mean, 'hangover'? Riku!" she called, hopping off the bed and following him to the door. She grabbed his arm and held him back before he could reach for the doorknob. She could sense him smirking.

"Riku!"

"Yeah?"

"Hangover?"

"Yeah."

"…"

"You remember that guy? The one who was hitting on you all night?" he asked, putting an emphasis of dislike on every word.

"Uh-huh…" she trailed off, calling upon a mental image in her head. She remembered clearly how polite he seemed, how well-tailored he looked, how he seemed to be a little impatient… she remembered being nervous and a little uneasy, seeing him stare at his watch, hold it up to the light to see the time… and then she remembered falling and sinking, and Riku was there. And there was a fight. Not yelling, but sharp words and shoving… she could recall being pushed and pulled one way or the other… and then it was just her and Riku… she was crying, and he was talking to her, and then it was blank. Almost dream-like—had that all really happened? She dropped her hand from the material of his shirt as her memory came and went, and the feeling of his hand traveling up her spine, the bare skin of her back, surfaced to her mind. His breath on her ear, the slick, deep tone of his voice… she felt dizzy all over again.

Riku's words echoed in her head; she had been too preoccupied with anger earlier that she hadn't paid it any mind.

'I saved you last night! From a rapist, remember?'

'I guess I am, for letting you get hurt last night... do you remember?'

She felt nauseous.

She couldn't believe it—she had almost been raped? It felt like it couldn't even have happened. She remembered Sai telling her a few times of girls that got kidnapped, tortured, abused on the streets, to try and talk her out of leaving so frequently. But she was never alarmed or afraid of the stories; she knew she would be able to fight off anyone who did try to touch her while she was out of the castle. But to think that while she had been talking to someone like that for a whole hour killing time- just thinking of how she could get Riku's attention- she had been lured into a trap that she had never considered herself vulnerable to. And he had saved her again.

Riku saw her face pale. He was relieved that she could at least put two and two together; he hadn't been sure how to tell her what had happened. No one wants to hear that they had been drugged, tricked—especially not when they were trying to prove that they could take care of themselves. He saw her rub her eyes a little bit, as if to keep from crying. She didn't, though; she seemed composed and calm. But he knew she was a little shaken up—she was gazing downward, her arms limply at her sides. He gently took her hand, spread his fingers out around it, and stepped in closer to her. He brushed her bangs aside a little bit and kissed her forehead.

"Don't worry—I took care of you," he announced proudly in her ear, trying to make her feel better. She broke into a smile and blinked her eyes back, then nodded her head.

"You are arrogant!" she exclaimed, playfully pushing him toward the door and trying to suppress her shock. She really was lucky—if Riku hadn't stepped in, she didn't know where she would be right now. But she could kill that other guy, if she weren't so humiliated. She was even a little hesitant to go into town now, for fear of seeing him there.

"So you want me to leave now?" he asked, double checking. He pointed back toward his door, which was opened since Sora had broken it earlier that morning. She nodded and gave him a shy, grateful smile before he walked into his room and began trying to figure out how he would get back at Sora later. She closed her door and leaned against it, taking a sigh of relief. Oh my God… and it's only the beginning of the day…

She wandered over to her closet and pulled out the first dress she saw—she was too distressed to care. She flopped onto her bed and clutched her head. The headache from before was getting stronger now that she was alone again. A hangover… I can't believe this… She carelessly dropped the clothes next to her and popped the pills Riku had given her into her mouth then quickly downed the glass of water. In the corner, the blood-stained dress seemed to be the focal point of the room. She flushed scarlet; whether or not he had changed her clothes, she didn't want to know. She ignored the dress and took the fresh, clean one into the bathroom with her, then tried to occupy herself with thoughts of what they would do today, what he could possibly have planned.

AN: The rest of this day will be in the next chapter—I thought I could get to it in this update, but it'll have to wait. So sorry if this seems to cut off at a weird spot.

My goal for this chapter was to have the tension start out really strong at the beginning, and slowly trickle down and decrease, so I hope that worked… and Sai wasn't in this chapter again—I think this is the third chapter that he was left out of, but he was mentioned quite a bit, so I guess it's okay. I'll write more for him in the next few updates.

Also, I think I said at some point that this story would be twenty-three or so chapters long? Scratch that. My new estimate is more like thirty-three, give or take. But I'm always way off, so don't start counting till the end yet.

{The song "Pretend," by Scott Porter, reminds me of Riku and Keiya's relationship. I think it's from a movie soundtrack.}