Current mood:	cheerful
Entry tags:	fic, kh2, meme

fic: Things that Never Change [Riku/Sora, post KH2]
For: semi_slashable
What: Ficlet
Specs: Anything Riku/Sora
Notes: Post KHII, sappy, random. Hope you like it, Riyu. Think of it as a 'thank you' thingy for all the cool OTP stuff you keep coming up with for the fandom. XD

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Being a little boy in such a big island is not an easy thing. The place is full of huge things that surprise Sora and make him only a bit afraid. Or very afraid. But he’s a brave boy; he knows there’s much to explore on this place, no matter how big or how scary.

The beach, for example. There was a big storm last night and the sea, that funny moving water, took all kinds of things up to the beach. There’s lots of sand there, but today there’s also seashells, a few bottles, a dead fish, twigs and leaves. Sora takes scientific interest in every item, his pockets are soon bulging all over; mum’s going to get a few surprises.

Sora runs along the shoreline, teasing the incoming waves; those can never catch him, he’s so much faster than the water and takes singular pride in it. Sandaled feet leave soft marks on the sand, but they’re soon washed away.

“You’re gonna get wet,” a disembodied voice says in Sora’s ear. And as soon as the words sink in, Sora takes an involuntary step sideways, trips on a twig and falls with a resounding splash, face first into the arriving wave.

The wave soon retires, however, leaving Sora spluttering and clearing salty water from his eyes. His hair falls like a mop around his face, gently dripping water from the tips. Sora looks up from his place on the wet sand, shielding his eyes with one hand.

Standing a few feet away there’s a boy. He looks very tall to Sora, but he can’t be much older than himself; suddenly Sora feels silly, sitting there with his butt on the sand and soaking wet. Getting swiftly to his feet he snaps angrily at the taller boy.

“You tripped me!” he accuses, small hands curling onto fists, lower lip sticking out and eyes blazing.

The boy with the yellow shirt shakes his head, but he doesn’t deny it. “You tripped on that branch,” he points at the harmless-looking twig that floats lazily on the shallow water.

Sora studies the other with narrowed eyes: should he trust this pale-haired kid with slanted eyes? Or is he another threat this island holds?

However, the boy decides for him. “What’s your name?” He asks, taking a step closer.

Sora tilts back his head, only slightly afraid of the other –after all, he’s not all that taller than himself. “Sora,” he replies; his whole body still in tension.

The other offers a half smile. “Like the sky?”

Sora blinks; there’s something he never thought of. Silly of him. “Yeah, like the sky. What’s your name?” he shoots back.

“Riku,” says the other kid, crossing slender arms over his chest. The way he says his name sounds like a challenge.

“Ri-ku,” Sora tries on the name, unaware he’s doing so. Riku laughs and Sora feels himself relaxing and smiling, involuntarily. Maybe this kid is not so bad after all, he thinks, as he rummages on his pockets for his treasures.

“Wanna see what I found on the beach?”

“Sure.”

“Look, this is a shell. It has a funny name, Thala-something, mum told me. And this other one it had a sticky worm-thing inside, but it was dead, so I poked it out. And this one…” Sora rambles on about his findings and Riku looks at everything with interest, making comments here and there, trusting Sora to tell him about all this cool stuff.

As the years went on, Sora realized that Riku always did that. He threw the younger one off balance, waited for him to regain his confidence and then sat down patiently and heard anything Sora wanted to say. It was the older boy’s way to be friends with him, no matter his own mood, how many times the story had been told, or if he knew all about it beforehand.

Sora sighs now, his back against the tree-trunk, as he watches his friend sprawled lazily on the sand. They are so much older now, they have seen and done so much, few people will believe it if they talk about it. But some things never change; this peace between them will never change, and neither will their need to push each other further. No matter what happens afterwards.

“Riku?” Sora calls and the silver head shifts slightly, sign that he’s heard him. Riku’s arms are drawn up, covering his eyes from the merciless sunlight.

“Hmm?”

“Remember when we met?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“How did you know I was going to trip on that branch?”

“Huh?”

“The branch stuck in the sand, remember? You said—”

“I know what I said.”

“Well… how did you know?”

“I didn’t, Sora. How could I’ve known?”

“So you were just—”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Riku sits up, pushing himself upright with his arms and blinking quickly in the sunlight. Even though he can’t see the other’s face, Sora feels the smirk drawing on Riku’s lips.

“And it was, wasn’t it?”

“What?” Sora frowns.

“A good idea,” Riku’s still facing away from him and Sora wishes he knew what his friend is thinking.

“The best you ever had,” the brunet replies quietly and, this time, Riku turns to look at him. His lips relax, forgoing the smirk; a somewhat puzzled expression crosses Riku’s face.

“Sora…?” Riku gets up and comes to stand before his friend, so Sora’s left staring at the older boy’s knees and shoes.

“Sometimes I just get this feeling,” Sora tries to explain, feeling ridiculous and awkward—how does Riku manage to look cool all the time, anyway?—but resolute, he’s faced bigger things that this, hasn’t he? Yeah, sure, Xemnas was mad, but nothing a Keyblade to the head couldn’t fix… This is different.

Riku sighs and sits down again, cross-legged and right in front of Sora. He’ll wait it out; whatever Sora wants to say, Riku will wait until he’s ready. But Sora seems uncomfortable by their proximity, if that makes any sense.

“It’s like what I felt when I went looking or you, you know? This thing in my head that said things wouldn’t be right until I found you, and when I found you I was supposed to tell you,” say Sora in a rush and he knows, he knows he’s not making any sense.

“Tell me what?” Riku asks, and there’s a hush to his words that should be saved for nighttime under the stars, not be wasted in this blinding sunlight, lost in the crowing of the birds and the swish of the sea. Sora bites his lower lip in frustration, looking away from his best friend’s narrowed eyes and focusing in his long legs, bent and crossed to mimic Sora’s position.

“I don’t know what I need to tell you,” he says at last, “ I just know that I needed to find you and stick with you.” Because you’re the best friend I’ll ever have, because you tease me and fight me and frustrate me, but I want to understand you better and never, ever let go of you, that’s what Sora’s mind adds, silently, because he can’t find the right words yet. But Riku is Riku and he can pull off cool and mature and find the right words, when Sora can’t.

“You know,” he says, smiling and leaning slightly forward, elbows on his knees and head on his hands, “if Kairi hadn’t stopped me that time when we met, I would’ve gone and stayed as I was, fighting from the shadows until you two were safe.” He says it like he’s commenting on the weather and Sora feels just like he did then: like crying and punching him. Still, Riku must be getting somewhere with this…

“If she hadn’t made you see, see me, you would’ve never found me.” Riku’s eyes search for Sora’s and they’re crystal clear, like when they met on this very beach. “I think that would’ve made us unhappy, like we would’ve been if we had never met, or if we had never met Kairi.”

Sora nods, the tugging he feels somewhere in his chest is painful-sweet now, because Riku is saying what he feels, what they both feel apparently and it’s confusing and new, and it’s like they are meeting for the first time all over again.

“So, “ Riku goes on, face inching ever closer to Sora’s, unstoppable, “whatever you need to tell me, don’t worry. There’s plenty of time, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not? Sora breathes, rather than say the words, because their noses are an inch apart and the sea-green eyes of his friend are all he can see, because this is larger than life and warmer than the sand they’re sitting on.

“I’m not. Are you?” Riku’s breath ghosts over Sora’s face and their knees bump against each other, but its doesn’t matter anymore when Riku’s hands brace themselves on Sora’s thighs, finding balance for their awkward position.

“Not without you,” the blue-eyed boy says, in the split second before their lips meet and he forgets what he needed to say, because actions speak louder, anyway. As they get to know each other for the second time, neither of them notice the thin branch and the glistening shells being washed ashore by a gentle sea wave.



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