A/N: A warning for mention of blood in this chapter.

Matters of Pride
Chapter 2: Just a Scratch

Sora's weekend passed in a conventional manner: hanging out with Wakka and Tidus and the gang, lunch with Kairi. He sometimes still marveled that he'd remained friends with all of them, despite their lives taking different paths once they left high school. Then again, Sora had always made it a point to have time for his friends. Even with his weekend shifts at the grocer near his house, and the requisite hours spent studying in the library, he'd carved out a little bit of time for them.

In the back of his mind, he was already planning time spent with Riku. Would he find a place in the larger friend group, or was he more of a one-on-one guy? Sora certainly wouldn't object to having Riku all to himself. Was he a different person in the afternoon and evenings, compared to his near-sullen morning self?

When he ordered the onion bagel Monday morning, the questions were all swirling in his mind, and he was still thinking of the best way to convince Riku to share his phone number to ask said questions (when it wasn't morning, because he understood what "not a morning person" meant, after all) when the train pulled up to his platform.

As usual, Riku's silvery hair caught Sora's attention, blending into the fur trim of his parka. However, something about him caused Sora to hesitate in his approach. The air around him nearly rankled, and the other passengers were giving him a wide berth, leaving Sora's view unobstructed. The tension that he'd grown accustomed to seeing in the man's shoulders was there, albeit much more pronounced, and his smooth jaw was set in a hard line, but the red flag was the jagged cut drawn from cheek to jaw on one side of his face. There was a complementary split in his lip, and then a flash of aqua eyes when Riku caught sight of him.

His gaze sent a chill down Sora's spine, his eyes cold and empty for only a split second, before he blinked, and refocused on the bagel-laden paper bag. A silvery eyebrow lifted, and Riku's lips quirked into a smirk as he shifted his messenger bag onto his lap.

"Well, is that for me, or what?"

"Of course it is." Sora offered a timid smile along with the bagel. "Uhm. Would it be prying if I asked how that happened?" he inquired, gesturing at Riku's face.

Riku was silent for a moment, already chewing on a piece of bagel. He swallowed, and then huffed a sigh. "This is nothing."

Sora frowned. "That's not what I would call 'nothing.' Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's none of your business! I can take care of myself," he snapped. Riku tugged at his parka, pulling the ruff closer to his neck. Another huff, and he returned to his bagel.

Seeing Sora's concerned face still turned on him, he sent him a sidelong glance. When he spoke again, it was a low murmur. "Really, it's just a scratch. It's minor. But I appreciate your concern."

Sora offered a bright smile. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

"Hmph."

Sora debated for a moment whether or not it was an opportune time to ask Riku for his number, but before he could decide, the train was already slowing to a stop and he had to go. So he settled with a "See you tomorrow!" and a wave as the doors slid closed behind him.

He made a plan for Tuesday, and when he ordered Riku's bagel, he used a pen to scrawl his phone number and a smiley face on the bag.

The ominous cloud from the day before had lifted, leaving Riku looking much less intimidating, though the cuts on his face were still vivid red against his pale skin. As was quickly becoming their custom, Riku moved his messenger bag from the seat next to him and accepted his bagel without so much as a "Good morning."

But Sora didn't mind, since, he figured, Riku was still warming up to him. So he was the one to offer a cheerful "Good morning," as he took his seat.

There was a hint of amusement in his voice when Riku traced a finger over Sora's phone number and asked "What's this?"

Sora scratched the back of his neck with a wry grin. "Well, you know. Gotta have a way to contact your friend, right? If you want, that is," he added.

Riku's low chuckle surprised Sora. It was a deep, rumbling sound that made his stomach feel light and fluttery, and he was so busy wishing the sound would go on forever that he almost missed it when Riku started speaking again. "So, you try to win me over with food, and you say you want to be my friend, but you give me your phone number like this?"

Sora's face colored. "H-hey! You make me sound like some kind of predator or something!"

"If the shoe fits." The smirk on Riku's face was becoming familiar, and Sora didn't mind that at all. As long as his lips weren't in a tight line, as long as he wasn't unhappy, that made Sora happy.

Sora pursed his lips. "Everyone always has a comment about my shoe size." He stretched a foot out and shook it, grinning. "My feet aren't that big."

Riku let out a derisive snort. "Not helping your case."

Sora made a face. "At least I try."

"Stick to bagels." Riku punctuated his statement by tearing into his bagel with aplomb. He fell silent for the rest of Sora's ride, but offered a murmured "Bye" in response to Sora's "See you tomorrow!"

Riku never called or texted, but every morning he looked for Sora's bagel, and gradually became more receptive to conversing with Sora. He remained silent on the subject of himself, but offered quips in response to whatever Sora decided to talk about, and asked the occasional question about Sora himself.
It wasn't long until Sora had told Riku all the basics. That he was studying veterinary medicine—dogs were his favorite animal—and he had a twin, Roxas; he loved his coffee light and sweet, and he didn't mind the cold, but he definitely preferred summer.

The day after Sora finally got something new out of Riku—a thank you for the daily bagel, for the first time—was the day the shine of silver hair was missing when Sora boarded his train. After growing so accustomed to chatting with his train friend every morning, he couldn't help but be disappointed, and concerned. Still, it was already December, and it wasn't unlikely that he'd fallen ill and would recover quickly. Or maybe it was nothing, and Riku had simply taken a different train.

He gave the bagel away to a classmate, and hoped the next day Riku would be there waiting for his morning treat, as usual.

The next day passed with no Riku, and Sora began to regret that he'd never pressed him for his contact information. He'd always hoped that Riku would contact him on his own, and figured that he was an introvert, so he'd let it rest. Did he even have anyone to take care of him if he was ill? It was Thursday, and Sora crossed his fingers that Riku would be on the train Friday. Perhaps he'd gotten spoiled, seeing the man regularly, and it was probably nothing serious, but Sora had a niggling feeling in his gut that something was off.

Nothing Friday morning. It was a late night for Sora, and as he boarded his train home, he cast a hopeful look around for silver hair. It was a long shot, though, and he wasn't surprised that his search was in vain.

He made the short walk from the train station to his apartment wallowing and feeling dejected. He wouldn't admit it to Riku, but he was the high point of Sora's day. Even if he was reticent and seemed ungrateful at times, Sora knew how to look past those things and see the goodness in people, and he knew Riku was good, in his own way.

Sora sighed and pulled out his keys as he approached his building. He could at least wait until Monday and then—then what? He realized he knew nothing about Riku. Not what he did, where he lived, if he had any relatives.

He let out a low curse and kicked the sidewalk. "Stupid Sora," he grumbled.

He didn't notice the figure standing in the shadows near his apartment's outer door, so when Riku limped into the light, he started with a gasp. "Sora…" he rasped.

"The hell! Riku?!" was all he could get out before he took in the ashen color of his friend's face, and the way he gasped in shallow breaths. The how-when-why went right out the window in lieu of "Are you okay?" Even with dull eyes, Riku managed to shoot him a weak glare, and Sora muttered, "No, of course you're not. Let's get you inside." He fumbled with the keys in his haste to get them inside, but once they'd both stepped into the vestibule, Sora paused to take a better look at his friend.

He clutched his parka close with one arm, and in the overhead light, looked even paler than he had outside. Something dark and wet shone below its hem, on his pant leg, and Sora frowned, sucking is lip in. Shaking his head, he led Riku towards his apartment.

"If you're bleeding that bad, you should've checked yourself into an emergency room. What the hell happened?" Riku shook his head as Sora unlocked his apartment. "Fine, don't tell me. Sit down," he gestured at his couch. "How bad is it?"

Riku all but collapsed, sinking into the cushions of the couch. "Bad enough," he breathed. With shaking fingers, he peeled his parka open, and though his shirt was unbroken, it was already soaked through with blood.

Sora closed his eyes and put a hand to his head. When he opened them again, Riku was still there, bleeding on his couch. "Fuck, you need to get to a hospital now. I'm calling an amb—"

"NO!" Riku's growl cut him off, his eyes flashing.

Sora's brow furrowed in concern. "Riku, you need emergency attention! You're bleeding a lot. It doesn't just stop on its own when it's that bad!" Realizing his voice was bordering hysterical, he took a calming breath. "I can't just let you bleed out on my couch," he said finally.

"No hospitals," he rumbled. His eyes bored into Sora, intense despite his weakened state.

Sora looked away first. "Fine." He threw his hands in the air. "Fine, I'll patch you up. But you are going to have a lot of explaining to do. If I'm harboring a criminal, I at least deserve to know." He spun on his heel and headed to his bathroom to retrieve his first aid kit. "And you better not die in my apartment," he called over his shoulder.

Riku sighed and fell back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.

Despite his better judgment, Sora settled the first aid kit and some towels on the floor beside him and pulled on a pair of blue gloves. "Can you take it off?" he murmured, hand hovering at the hem of Riku's shirt. The silver head lolled to the side, and Sora took it as a no. "I'll have to cut it to get to the wound." Riku didn't protest, so he grabbed the scissors and cut the thin t-shirt away, and carefully pilled it back.

He sucked in a breath at the cuts slicing across Riku's torso, blood weeping from them. "How did you get these?" he muttered, more to himself than to his patient. "I'm not a doctor, you know? But I'll do my best." His assessment was quick before he set to work, Riku's eyes following him the entire time.

It wasn't until Sora was already stitching up the last of the deeper cuts that Riku's eyes fluttered shut. Sora's glanced up to the still face and bit his lip. The bare chest under his ministrations still rose and fell, and a pulse still fluttered under the fingers Sora pressed to his throat, so he finished closing the wound before stepping back.

He wasn't even sure he was done. He eyed the dark spot that stretched below the waiast of Riku's pants, and he couldn't be certain there wasn't an injury there, too. Or, for that matter, on Riku's back. He heaved a sigh, and fervently wished that Riku hadn't passed out on him.

An hour later, Sora sat back on his heels. Riku's ruined shirt sat crumpled in a trash bag, along with some of Sora's towels. The jeans and parka hadn't gone under the knife, but Sora wasn't sure they'd be salvageable. Even so, he'd already dumped them in the kitchen sink under cold water, leaving it to Riku to decide.

He'd had one more cut on the outside of a thigh, shallow enough that a bandage did the trick. The rest of the time had been spent making Riku comfortable in one of Sora's oversized t-shirts, and cleaning up the worst of the mess.

He was exhausted, his fingers cramped, and he couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd eaten. He stood, teetering, and retrieved a leftover carton of Chinese from his fridge. Popping it into the microwave, he ducked into his room and changed into his sleep clothes. He sorely needed a shower, but he was under no delusions that he would have the energy to do so. Instead, he curled up on his armchair with his carton of Chinese. He watched Riku's chest rise and fall, scrutinizing the pattern of his injuries, until he fell asleep.