Chapter 1: 1.1: Sora (Day One)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
He stares up at the vaguely familiar ceiling, and his mind is completely quiet.
Sora has never had a quiet mind in his life.
Chapter Text
Sora wakes up in a room that isn’t his own.
That’s enough to panic over, because Sora clearly remembers going to sleep in his own bed last night… but there’s something much more pressing, something that sends chills like icy fingers down Sora’s— nude?— back.
He stares up at the vaguely familiar ceiling, and his mind is completely quiet.
Sora has never had a quiet mind in his life.
His mind is always racing, jumping from thought to thought, as though his brain is trying to squeeze as many thoughts as possible into each day.
Sora also usually has the irresistible urge to hop straight out of bed, his body humming like an engine, primed and ready to drive him forth towards… anything that will occupy his attention.
Activity. Movement. Stimulation.
He quietly panics as he stares up at the ceiling, something reluctant and sluggish about his body, which feels more like it wants to— he balks at the very thought— sleep in.
Maybe he’s getting sick? It’s been quite a while since he’s had a bad bout of the flu or something… but he doesn’t feel overly hot, dizzy, congested…
He moves to curl on his side, debating over whether he should just bury himself under the blankets, and his eyes catch on the unique star-shaped windows of the Mysterious Tower.
Ah. Well, it’s not his room, but he’s still in his makeshift home, so that’s a relief.
Very slowly, his thoughts decide to stop complaining about being awake. He remembers that he and Riku are staying in Yen Sid’s old tower on some sort of forced rest after everything that happened in Quadratum. He thinks Mickey and Kairi might still be here, but it still doesn’t explain why Sora isn’t in his own room.
They all have one, after all.
The more he tries to think, the more his brain hurts, like there’s a horrible storm brewing inside his skull, battering his head from the inside. Sora’s taken a few blows to the head before, but nothing like this; his stomach turns and his eyes ache, so he closes them against the light streaming through from outside.
There’s a crash across the room, and the door slams open dramatically.
Sora sits up, startled out of the strange, sluggish paralysis, his arm reaching for his keyblade and only proceeding to knock over something on his bedside table. He pays it no mind, staring at the door in horror as he watches himself stumble into the room.
“What the fuck,” he says, watching himself fall to the ground in a flailing tangle of limbs. His voice comes out low and rough, no inflection in the question at all.
“Ow,” the Sora on the floor mumbles, struggling to get his legs under him as he flips over and finally manages to kneel on the floor, eyes wide and shocked as he stares up at Sora-on-the-bed (the real Sora, thanks very much!)
Floor Sora bites his lip, getting to shaky feet before trying to compose himself, crossing his arms like he didn’t just fall on his face. “We’ve, uh,” he says, and his voice is Sora’s, but something about the way he speaks isn’t. “We’ve got a problem, Sora.”
Something about the way he says Sora’s name makes alarm bells ring in Sora’s head.
He finally looks down at himself, eyes bugging out of his head when he sees his body, the pecs right in front of his face, the bare, muscled arms, the abs—
“Holy shit,” he chokes, managing to drag his eyes away from the smooth, pale skin on display before he embarrasses himself. “Holy… Riku?”
Riku’s wry, lopsided smile looks strange on Sora’s face.
“Ugh,” Sora says, his head pounding. “Riku, my head is… How are you even upright when I feel like I've been run over by a truck? It's not fairrrrrr.”
Riku winces. That looks weird on Sora's face, too. “I'm so sorry, Sora. I… I get migraines, sometimes.”
Sora closes his eyes once more, then elects to cover them with Riku's (big) hands, letting out a shuddering breath when the darkness soothes the thudding pain screaming through his skull.
How can Riku live like this? With a dull roar pounding through his head like this?
“You've gotta have a Curaga or somethin’,” Sora mumbles, flopping back down onto the bed and groaning pathetically when his only reward for being horizontal so quickly is vertigo.
Riku shuffles closer, and his footsteps sound far too loud, echoing through Sora's already tender brain. “Sorry,” Riku says, and it sounds extra sincere and pathetic in Sora's more expressive voice. “I've tried before. It doesn't work. Coffee helps, sometimes. If you can stomach getting to the kitchen…?”
The mention of his stomach reminds Sora of the nausea rising up his throat, and it is only worsened by the thought of traipsing all the way down the stairs to the tower's kitchen.
“Nooooo…” he whines, and cringes at how weird Riku’s voice sounds coming out of his mouth. Even if his mouth is currently Riku. Wow, this whole thing really is confusing, and Sora's aching head spins in circles trying to process it all.
“I'll… I'll go make you some,” Riku mumbles, sounding as uncomfortable as Sora feels. Moments later, Riku's door snaps open and closes in quick succession.
Sora is left alone with his thoughts once more.
He huffs out a frustrated breath. If there's one thing he hates, it's forced bed rest.
The amount of time it will take Riku to traipse down a few staircases, figure out the correct portals to use to find the kitchen, and then brew coffee should take a while, so Sora isn’t expecting his door to click open for at least twenty minutes.
He jumps when his door clicks open within like thirty seconds.
“Here,” it’s Sora’s voice, but Riku’s tone, oddly rough.
Sora swallows hard as he feels gentle hands around his wrists, pulling them away from his aching eyes. “It hurts,” he complains, but allows Riku to slowly pull him into a seated position against the headboard.
“I can’t believe you kept this,” Riku says, and then he’s wrapping impossibly soft fabric around Sora’s eyes. The fabric dulls the bright light, and something about the gentle pressure against his eyes, his temples, and the back of his head soothes some of the throbbing. The storm abates and takes some of the persistent nausea with it. “Is that better? Not too tight?”
Sora inhales slowly, oxygen shuddering into his lungs. “Y-yeah, that’s… that’s much better. Thanks, Riku.”
Riku ruffles his hair reflexively, and that’s one of the weirdest things yet, because Riku’s hair is so fine and silky. Feeling a hand against his (much more sensitive) scalp sends a strange, pleasant shiver down his chest that he tries desperately to ignore.
“I’ll, uh,” Riku says, fumbling over his words. He’s probably feeling just as wrong-footed as Sora is. “I’ll go get you that coffee, alright?”
Sora nods, hesitantly opening his eyes even though he knows he won’t see Riku leave.
He can’t see anything through the worn black fabric, but he lets out a relieved sigh. His eyes feel a lot less like they’ll implode, with the dark fabric shielding him from the worst of the sun streaming through the windows. All he can do is lean against the headboard and wait for Riku to return. It should probably be frustrating, feeling so helpless, but… it feels sort of nice?
He knows Riku will take care of him, no matter what.
Why they’ve seemingly switched bodies… that’s still something his throbbing head doesn’t want to allow him to muse over, but he’s… he’s not afraid. No matter the cause, he and Riku can figure it out.
Together.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 2: 1.2: Riku (Day One)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
Riku suddenly feels rude for calling Sora unobservant sometimes. Being in his body, he feels as though he can understand.
Chapter Text
Riku blinks rapidly as he makes his way down the spiral steps of the tower, biting his lip like it'll slow the cacophony of thoughts crashing all over each other in his head. Sora's thoughts come fast and without pause, tripping over each other sometimes to the point where half of them don't manage to finish.
Riku suddenly feels rude for calling Sora unobservant sometimes. Being in his body, he feels as though he can understand. He's almost tripping down the stairs, bracing himself with a hand on the wall, because it’s like there's a motor in his chest, trundling forward like he's got a rope hastily pulling him forth. Obeying his body's internal movemovemove takes energy by itself, but then he has to try to sort through his scattered thoughts even as more are tumbling in and out of his mind.
He can’t say he isn’t grateful for the reprieve from the thundering storm in his skull, but it does make him unreasonably worried about Sora. Riku knows the pain well, knows not to concern himself with dwelling on the feeling that his brain is trying to claw its way out of his skull. He’s almost learned to ignore it, at this point.
Sora isn’t like that, can still be a little childish when it comes to pain. Not real, physical pain, like injuries sustained in battle, but anything less life-threatening, like illnesses and things that aren’t the end of the world. Riku is pretty sure he’d whined and complained his way through his last cold, just as he had when he was a little kid.
Riku scowls at the myriad portals he encounters, knowing he’d know exactly which order to jump through to find the kitchen if he were— himself. For whatever reason, though, Sora’s mind seems to instinctively pick a portal and then proceed to second-guess the choice, until he’s stuck in a confused spiral and has no clue what to think.
Finally, he thinks he’s getting somewhere, finding a familiar staircase decorated with a suspicious amount of food-themed paintings for a stairwell that doesn’t lead to a kitchen. Two brooms peer out from a broom closet halfway down, rustling as he passes. That, too, feels familiar.
Riku forces himself to pause momentarily on his way down the stairs because he's forgotten why he's even headed that way.
Coffee. Coffee for Sora, who is currently in his body.
How the fuck does Sora exist like this?
Riku makes a mess of the kitchen without meaning to, knocking things over because he overestimates the length of his reach and where his arms are in relation to things on the counters (which feel a lot taller, for some reason).
He scowls up at the high cupboard where he keeps the coffee grounds, because he usually hides it from Sora, who certainly doesn't need any caffeine. Ever. So Riku has to hide it in a high cabinet where he'll be the only one who can reach.
Except he's Sora, or in his body, at least.
He drags a chair over, crawling awkwardly onto it and standing on his toes to reach—
“Sora,” Kairi scolds, her voice a perfect balance of judgment and teasing.
Riku startles, flailing with Sora’s shorter arms before he grabs the ledge of the cupboard for support. “Oh,” he says reflexively, realising that she's talking to him. “Kairi. I… didn't see you there.”
Which is a stupid thing to say, since she's standing in the doorway, having only just arrived.
She covers her laugh with her hand. “Riku won't be happy when he realises you've gotten into his coffee,” she warns, but her eyes are still bright.
Conspiratorial.
Riku files that thought away for later, and immediately regrets it when it is scattered by a slew of less important thoughts. Kairi's hair is mussed; his eyes stick on a small curl that sticks up right in the centre of her head. She's wearing cute pyjamas with tiny white roses on a pale pink fabric, which looks soft and warm.
He finds himself struck by the maddening urge to count the roses on her outfit, which makes absolutely no sense at all.
Coffee. He needs to make coffee. For Sora.
“It's not for me!” he blurts, probably a few seconds too late to be believable. He averts his gaze, feeling Sora's face flood with heat, the way it always does when he lies. “It's… Riku. Has a migraine.”
It feels so weird, talking about himself in the third person.
Kairi knows Sora well enough that she should probably be suspicious of his weird behaviour— and the obvious tell that Sora is lying— but she seems perfectly oblivious. “Again?” She steps forward and places her hands flat on the table. “He had one last week!”
Riku is glad he's in Sora's body for the first time, because he knows Sora would be spitting mad at Kairi's inadvertent admission that Riku gets migraines more frequently than he may have strictly told Sora he did.
He tries to look innocent. He's not sure how well he succeeds, what with Sora having a face like a billboard advertising his every emotion. “I have a theory that it's just caffeine withdrawals,” he tries to joke, but he knows it falls flat as soon as he says it.
Kairi rolls her eyes. “I know you're just saying that because that's the excuse he gave, Sora.” She hums before popping over to the fridge to grab a carton of milk. “I'm not saying he's lying to you, but… if it stopped you from worrying, or hurting, he'd bend the truth.”
Riku's mouth— Sora's mouth— goes dry. “Why would he…?” He fumbles the coffee into his shaking hands before hopping down to solid ground. His curiosity at her answer burns in his chest, but he fears the answer could make him fall off the chair. The floor seems safer.
Kairi looks at him over her shoulder, her expression inscrutable. “You know why,” she says, before pausing. “Hm. Well, if you don't, you should ask Riku about it, Sora. It's been long enough.”
Riku turns his attention to the coffee, his face hot but his chest thrumming with appreciation. He knows Kairi hadn't meant to divulge his frequent migraines, but he's still grateful for the confirmation of her honest mistake.
He hates to even think about it, but if she'd told Sora why… well. Not only would it be intensely embarrassing, Sora being aware of his feelings instead of blissfully oblivious… but it would also be a betrayal of his confidence.
A secret of his, divulged without care.
Kairi knows better than to do something like that. He knows that, but he still sometimes fears the truth getting out, some way or another.
“Maybe I will,” he says absently, because Sora probably would, he’d likely hastily make the coffee and disappear straight upstairs to confront Riku about it.
Sora never seems afraid to do or say the hard things. He doesn't try to obfuscate or bend the truth or speak in riddles. He wears his heart on his sleeve and stands by his word.
It's one of the many, many reasons Riku is so helplessly in love with him.
And one of the reasons it’s so glaringly obvious that Sora doesn’t feel the same.
“You’re being weirdly… quiet.” Kairi’s voice is coloured with her concern. “You’re not… you’re not mad, are you?” She places the milk on the counter next to the mugs Riku has laid out.
Riku looks at her, startled when she’s closer than he anticipates, not because she’s infringing on his personal space, but because she is usually so much shorter than he is. She and Sora are much closer in height, maybe an inch or so difference. Something about that makes Riku’s stomach sour a little, because they fit together, don’t they?
At the end of the day, Kairi and Sora seem kind of disgustingly perfect for each other. Riku’s tried to ignore it for a long time at this point, but he supposes he’s been… waiting. For them to finally cross the line between friends and something more, the inevitable nail in the coffin of their carefully balanced friendship. He’s always been the odd one out, in more ways than one, so he knows one day they’ll pursue something that he can’t join in on.
It still hurts, though.
He doesn’t want to lose them. Either of them.
“I’m— I’m not mad, Kairi,” he finally answers, and it comes out soft and mournful, much too weighty for the actual topic.
Kairi has been chewing on her lip, maybe holding her breath. She relaxes, a relieved sigh puffing over Riku’s cheek. “I’m glad.” Her smile is small but full of quiet joy. “The last thing I want is to cause a fight between you. You… you both deserve a break, and… and you deserve to be happy.”
Riku swallows hard, warmed yet quietly devastated by her admission. She has to know that this delicate balance between the three of them can’t last, surely. She has to know that one day, Sora will choose— not that he knows that there is a choice, that Riku is even an option— and he and Kairi will… will…
“Thanks,” he forces himself to say, because he can’t figure out anything more appropriate, less damning. He wonders if he should tell her, for a long moment, because it’s not really fair that she thinks she’s talking to Sora.
He feels like he shouldn’t, though, not without first talking to Sora.
“You know,” Kairi muses, finding a mug for herself. “A long time ago, I thought maybe you had a crush on me.”
Riku knocks over Sora’s mug. It’s thankfully empty, the baby blue ceramic rolling on its side, the little graphic flashing up at Riku (“I’m a Little Door Key!” the mug proclaims proudly).
“Uh,” Riku fumbles for words, because if Kairi is taking this moment to confess to Sora, he really needs to figure out how to stop her before—
Kairi glances at him side-on, something smug and sly in her expression. “I can’t believe it took me so long to realise you were crushing on Riku the entire time. Then again, maybe I was blinded by my own crush, you know?”
“Oh,” Riku squeaks, staring at her with eyes so wide he’s afraid they might pop out of his (Sora’s) head. “Kairi—”
She rolls her eyes, laughing at his expression. “Oh, don’t look at me like I kicked your Meow Wow! It’s just funny that we both were… I mean, I thought he was so cool, right? Of course you felt the same.”
Riku’s face feels like it’s going to combust; he’s so embarrassed. There’s no way, there’s no way. “He wasn’t that cool…” he tries, mortified.
Kairi laughs. “Oh, come on! You were always so determined to win any competition you could come up with, and try to impress him a little. And, you know, I think most of the time, he was trying to impress you, too.”
Riku drags his attention back to the coffee, his heart hammering in his chest. “He was trying to impress you,” he tries weakly, forgetting himself for a moment. He was trying to impress Sora, and the fact that Kairi can say that so easily means he was way more obvious than he’d like.
Sora, though? Sora had been determined to show off, not because of Riku, but because Kairi was always watching.
…Right?
Kairi picks up her mug, sipping at it and looking at him with her eyebrows resting high on her forehead. “Keep telling yourself that, Sora,” she teases. “You two are so ridiculous. Just talk to each other! Ugh, boys.”
She wanders out of the kitchen with her nose in the air.
Riku watches her leave, completely out of his depth. She can’t be serious, surely. Sora isn’t… Sora doesn’t…
He doesn’t know. Sora’s head is a tangled thicket of chaotic thoughts that he can’t manage to unravel if he tries. Trying to figure out what Kairi means just makes his head hurt.
Coffee. Coffee for Sora.
That’s something simple, something easy.
Something that doesn’t thrill and terrify him in equal measure.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 3: 1.3: Sora (Day One)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
So, technically, Sora has seen Riku’s body before. That was years ago, though. And it was mutual, they had both been naked, and… and Sora wasn’t in his body. Something about the situation makes Sora feel horribly perverted, to look upon Riku from this new and strange perspective. It feels forbidden, and it’s not like Riku can stop him from looking, or—or feeling.
Notes:
Sora's POV, part 2! Enjoy <3
Chapter Text
Despite the unavoidable whooshing ache in his head, Sora gets bored not long after Riku leaves.
Riku’s body feels heavy and sluggish— not exactly words he ever would have associated with his best friend— but he forces himself out of bed, propping Riku’s blindfold up so that it’s around his forehead instead of covering his eyes. His eyes are still sensitive, stinging whenever he glances at the windows or overhead lights, but the pressure of the bound fabric around his head helps.
Sora heads for Riku’s dresser drawers, because apparently Riku sleeps wearing boxer-briefs instead of pyjamas, and it’s too early for Sora to process seeing his best friend’s body practically naked.
He forgets about mirrors.
Riku’s dresser has one right above it, and Sora freezes as he shuffles over in search of a shirt and some pants.
Even though he’s a few feet away, it feels… creepy to look at Riku’s near-naked body without his permission.
Not that Sora would ever have permission!
Despite the guilt nipping at his heels, Sora takes a shaky step closer. Riku has always been surprisingly pale, something Sora has always half-heartedly teased him about, considering they both grew up on a tropical island, spending their days out in the sun. Still, there’s something so compelling about all of that soft, smooth skin, pale like marble and just as artfully carved.
Like this, relaxed and barely awake, Riku’s muscles aren’t in sharp relief, but they’re still obvious. There’s definition in his arms even at rest, gentle curves on his biceps and triceps, more obvious cording in his forearms. Sora can’t resist clenching his fists to make the muscles of Riku’s arms tense, his upper arms flexing and bulging without effort.
Sora tears his eyes from the mirror and looks at those arms himself. Seeing them up close, he feels like he’s going to pass out, struck dumb by the sight of Riku’s thick arms so close he can see a prominent vein running down the muscle.
He swallows very hard before averting his eyes. Unfortunately, his traitorous eyes decide he should look in the mirror again, and immediately catch on Riku’s broad chest, and the fact that flexing Riku’s arms also makes his pecs all firm, and oh, those are his nipples—
Sora’s going to die.
His face feels hot, and he can see that Riku’s face is cherry red in a way Sora’s darker skin can’t quite manage. It probably shouldn’t affect him so much, seeing Riku almost naked; in fairness, they sometimes bathed together when they were younger, had been in several situations where nudity had been natural and not at all awkward.
So, technically, Sora has seen Riku’s body before. That was years ago, though. And it was mutual, they had both been naked, and… and Sora wasn’t in his body. Something about the situation makes Sora feel horribly perverted, to look upon Riku from this new and strange perspective. It feels forbidden, and it’s not like Riku can stop him from looking, or—or feeling.
He thinks about his well-established morning routine, of waking with a full bladder and having to— but Riku had been in his body this morning, which means…
Had Riku…
Sora’s face—actually Riku’s face—grows hot again at the thought of Riku having to use the bathroom with Sora’s body.
Some part of Sora knows, theoretically, that Riku’s body will have certain needs eventually, and he has no idea how long it will be before they switch back.
It’s different, though, because Riku is… Riku is tall, muscular, and good-looking. At least, good-looking according to Kairi and other people who have commented on his looks. Sora doesn’t really know what qualifies someone as good-looking, but whatever it is, Riku is that.
Imagining Riku waking up short and scrawny, thinking about him having to see Sora’s body up close, bony and covered in the scrapes and bruises of eternal clumsiness, trapped in a body still clinging to the childishness of round cheeks and knobbly knees…
Sora’s stomach twists with nausea once more.
Riku has changed a lot since they all left Destiny Islands. He’s strong and solid, his posture confident and relaxed with self-assuredness that is no longer a childish front to mask his insecurities. Sora knows that, for all that Riku has his regrets, he’s come out of the darkness as a much more well-rounded, confident, charismatic person than even the larger-than-life Riku of Sora’s childhood.
Someone like Riku, who is so brilliant, so special, shoved into Sora’s mundane body… It’s wrong.
Sora has to fix this as soon as possible.
He shoves (long, pale, absurdly toned and bizarrely pretty) legs into the first pair of sweats he finds, and then pauses, wondering where he can even start.
Sora’s still chewing on his lip, trying to figure out his options, when Riku comes back into the room.
“Coffee?” Riku asks, holding up two mugs sheepishly. “I, er, didn’t know whether you’d prefer it prepared how you like it or how I do, so I made both.”
Sora tilts his head, trying to ignore how weird it is to look at his own face, or weirder still, to look down at Riku. “Gross,” he complains when Riku proffers a steaming mug of black coffee, Riku’s voice coming out low and gravelly even to his— Riku’s— ears, roughened from sleep and the strain of the migraine still pressing insistently against the walls of his skull.
He makes grabby hands for the second mug (which looks odd, Riku’s fingers long and pale and strangely graceful). This mug is also filled with coffee, but the bitterness of the grounds is toned down with enough milk to make the liquid more similar in tone to Riku’s skin than Sora’s.
“There’s barely any coffee in it,” Riku sighs, “I may as well have just warmed up some milk.”
Sora rolls his eyes, bringing the mug up to his lips thankfully and taking a leisurely sip. He pauses, mouth full of lukewarm liquid that tastes… surprisingly gross.
Riku tries to bite back a smile, but Sora has always been an open book; his face is used to bold expressions of emotion. “Not good, Hero?”
Sora swallows with difficulty, averting his eyes. Seeing himself smile so widely, so jovially, makes something in his chest ache. He can’t understand why, but he doesn’t think he likes the feeling.
He tries not to think about Riku calling him hero. That way lies madness.
Riku wordlessly switches their mugs and takes a curious sip of Sora’s milk with a hint of coffee. “Huh,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “You really like it even though it’s tepid?”
Sora scowls down at the black mug in his hands (“no coffee, no talkee!” it says in thick white letters.) He’s fascinated by Riku’s fingers, momentarily. They easily reach all the way around and then overlap a little. “It’s how my mum would drink it. It was always hot on the Islands, so I guess that’s why she put cold milk in?”
“That makes sense, I guess.” Riku shifts his weight to lean against the wall. He underestimates the distance, unused to his smaller frame, and ends up thumping a shoulder into the plaster with a loud thunk.
“You okay?” Sora asks, finally braving a sip in an attempt to stifle his laughter. Riku’s coffee is scalding to the point that it should burn his tongue, and lacking any novelty with the complete absence of milk and sugar, but Riku’s body seems to like it.
After just one sip, his body feels a little more alert, his migraine receding slightly.
Sora’s sure it must be one of those things… The pitfall effect, whatever it’s called, where thinking something like a medicine would work sometimes made someone feel better, even if a doctor gave them a sugar pill or something. The coffee has barely had time to get to Riku’s tummy, so it can’t be the reason his shoulders are losing tension so quickly.
“I’m fine,” Riku says absently, frowning down at his coffee. It’s dripping, having lurched out of the cup when Riku had stumbled.
“This is so confusing,” Sora complains, rubbing his throbbing temple and downing half of the coffee in one go, despite the temperature. “Riku, how do we fix this? I’m struggling to keep up with whether you’re Riku-Sora or if I’m Riku-Sora.”
Riku wipes his (Sora’s) coffee-stained fingers on Sora’s brand-new pyjama pants. “Let’s sit down.” He winces. “I suppose I’m not sure myself. Your thoughts are… fast.”
“Chaotic,” Sora agrees, unoffended. “That's why Ohta-san hated teaching me. I talked too much and couldn’t sit still.”
Riku frowns, a complicated expression that looks bizarre on Sora’s soft, open features.
Sora gets distracted by how Riku’s thoughts cross his face so blatantly, each expression painting an obvious picture of the direction of his thoughts. He finds himself enchanted; while he’s learned to read Riku’s face over a long friendship, cataloguing microexpressions until he’s figured out how Riku tends to think… on Sora’s face, everything is so obvious.
It’s mortifying.
Everyone must know what he’s thinking at all times.
His mind decides it would be a good idea to showcase a million memories wherein he's had inappropriate thoughts in polite company, an overwhelming slideshow of humiliating moments made even more horrifying by the unhinged ideas floating across his face.
Sora roughly pushes those thoughts aside to mull on later, probably at three in the morning when he least suspects them to come flooding back. There are more important things at hand: namely how he and Riku managed to switch bodies in the first place, how they can switch back, and also how to get rid of the sad little crease marring Riku’s forehead.
Sora reaches out without thinking, swallowing when his current hand all but engulfs Riku’s, Riku’s thumb and fingers (currently his, which sends his thoughts reeling), wrapping so easily around Riku’s thin wrist that they could press together if he tried.
He carefully doesn’t think about Riku’s hands being big enough to circle his wrist entirely, and any implications of that new knowledge. It’s harder to steer his thoughts away as he leads Riku to Riku’s bed, where he woke up this morning.
He places his coffee mug on the neat bedside table beside Riku’s bed before taking a seat.
Riku follows suit, placing his (now empty) mug next to Sora’s before joining him on the bed.
They sit on the very edge, seated a safe distance apart and caught up in an awkward silence.
“I didn’t know,” Riku says suddenly, staring down at the ground. “About Ohta-san.”
Sora shrugs, unbothered. “It’s not like she was mean to me or anything. I’m sure I was a super frustrating student to deal with.”
Riku huffs. “Sora, I distinctly remember you having to redo work you failed, even though I couldn’t find anything wrong with it.”
Sora tries to think back, the memories coming easily in the quiet clarity of Riku’s mind. “Huh.” He stares ahead at the sparsely decorated wall. “I think… I think when I did well, she thought I was cheating. She made me redo the work during in-school suspension. Supervised, you know?”
Riku sighs, flopping backwards to lie on the bed. “No wonder you hated school,” he realises, something almost mournful in his voice.
It sounds odd; Sora’s voice is more suited to cheerfulness. It makes Sora frantic with the need to soothe away that sadness somehow, though he wouldn’t know where to start. “It wasn’t so bad, sometimes,” he hurries to placate Riku, but he doesn’t think he’s successful. “Learning is important, Riku. Having to do the work twice made it stick more, kind of.”
Riku snorts. “You had nightmares from reading The Shining, Sora.”
Sora slides down to lie beside him, musing over the summer he’d spent painstakingly reading one of the most confusing and horrifying books he’d had the misfortune of having to write about. “I still don’t really get it,” he admits quietly, something he’d only admit to Riku and maybe Kairi because they understand.
He has enough trouble reading in general. Short notes and basic paragraphs are easy enough, but something about a full page of text makes his eyes cross and blur, words and letters jumping and crawling across the page while he fights to concentrate on the narrative thread.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Riku reminds him gently. “It’s just a book, Sora.”
Sora flips on his side, blinking when he finds his own body at his side and not the familiar, handsome profile of his best friend. For just a moment, he’d forgotten that they’re swapped. “It’s weird,” he blurts, biting his lip. “Looking at my own face.”
Riku turns on his side, too, his lips twitching when their knees bump together. “Yeah, it’s weird,” he agrees, eyes sparkling with good humour. “Looking up when I’m talking to you is super weird.”
Sora swats at him, even though he’s not upset by Riku’s joke. It is strange, looking down at Riku when they’re standing, looking at his own body when they’re talking instead of Riku’s. It hasn’t even been long, but he finds himself missing the tranquil, comforting colour of Riku’s eyes.
Maybe it’s embarrassing to even admit, even in the safety of his mind, but Sora finds Riku’s eyes fascinating. He thinks they’re somewhere between blue and green, a bright turquoise that reminds Sora of the crystalline waters of the Destiny Islands. Unlike Sora’s clear sapphire blue, Riku’s eyes seem to change, though he’s not sure whether it’s a trick of the light, or something more complex, like the darkness that has plagued Riku for as long as they can both remember.
Sora doesn’t mind if that’s what it is. Riku’s eyes are calming. Like home. If Sora ever feels homesick, he just has to glance at Riku to keep the loneliness at bay.
“I’d joke about how hard you’re thinking, but…” Riku teases lightly. “I’m sure it must be a lot easier in my body, huh?”
Sora feels his face heat up, swatting at Riku harder and earning a bright, loud laugh for his troubles. “I was thinking,” he admits, his face on fire, “that I kind of miss you, you know? It’s so weird because I am you. I just…”
Riku glances away, avoiding Sora’s eyes. “I know what you mean,” he agrees, whisper-soft. “I miss looking— I miss seeing you, too.”
Sora nods, and their eyes meet and hold for a long, confusing moment. “How did this happen?” Sora ventures finally, hoping Riku might have thought more about it, might have more of a clue.
“I don’t know.” Riku doesn’t try to hide his lack of knowledge, which is surprisingly comforting. “I woke up maybe twenty minutes before I came to see you. I… I didn’t think I was awake at first. Seemed like a really odd dream.”
Sora watches him, trying to bite back the question that wants to burst forth. As usual, his curiosity wins out. “Did you have to… when you woke up, er, I’m guessing you…?”
Riku’s face confirms it, because it goes red and blotchy in a way Sora didn’t even know was possible. Unlike Riku, Sora’s skin is darkened from his days basking in the sun, tanned and freckled in a way that usually makes his skin glow with his blushes, rather than redden in such an obvious way.
Sora knows what he looks like when he’s embarrassed; he’s seen plenty of photos.
Riku is mortified.
“Of course I did,” he grumbles, avoiding Sora’s eyes again. “Sora, I thought my bladder was going to burst. I was panicking. How the hell do you even wake up needing to pee so bad?!”
Sora feels himself flush, too, because talking to Riku about his bathroom habits is almost as embarrassing as the knowledge that Riku had to pee. In his body. Which means…
“Maybe I’m just better at staying hydrated,” Sora mutters, searching for something to distract himself so he can’t possibly start to think about Riku’s hands on his—
He dives for the coffee, which is still steaming, and gulps it down as though the scalding liquid will eliminate all thoughts about Riku touching his dick.
Ugh. Too late.
“I’m sorry,” Riku adds, sitting up. “I mean, it felt like an emergency, but I also… didn’t ask. It’s—it’s okay if you’re mad, since I overstepped a boundary—”
“It’s fine!” Sora takes another fortifying gulp of coffee, eyes wide at the strangely high pitch of his voice, especially coming out of Riku’s mouth. He hasn’t heard that tone from Riku before.
Riku frowns, crossing his arms. It is, annoyingly, very adorable and not at all intimidating.
Sora kind of hates that; wishes he looked more fierce and cool.
“I don’t know why we’re stuck like this.” Riku’s calm and businesslike. “We might have to adjust to the idea that we’ll be like this for a while. That means, uh. Bathroom stuff. Showers. Getting changed out of clothes. We probably need to talk about it, Sora.”
Sora groans. “I really don’t want to, though.”
“Do you think I do?” Riku’s voice is flat, and he reaches out to shove Sora’s blindfold back over his eyes. “If nothing else, we need to talk about showers. There’s no way my hair will survive your rough treatment.”
Sora doesn’t even know what that’s supposed to mean, other than the disturbing fact that Riku is precious about his hair. “Are you saying my hair is bad?” he squawks, striking out to swat at Riku and finding empty air. He blinks against the black fabric, realising he’d instinctively swatted higher, because Riku is usually taller.
Riku sounds irritatingly smug, and perhaps infinitely more so because he’s speaking in Sora’s voice. “Your hair isn’t bad,” he proclaims airily, but doesn’t sound sincere about it. “We can’t all have a thick, voluminous tangle that defies gravity, Sora. My hair requires careful management—”
Sora rolls his eyes even though Riku can't see. It's the thought that counts. “There can’t be more to it than shampoo and conditioner,” he gripes.
There’s a long pause. “No. No, you’re definitely going to need a lot of help.”
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Chapter 4: 2.1: Riku (Day Two)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
It’s been eating at him for a long time. He and Sora haven’t really talked about it, but it’s obvious that Sora doesn’t want to. Riku can’t blame him; he doesn’t want to, either.
Perhaps… maybe that’s the solution, or at least the reason this odd situation has arisen.
Chapter Text
The Library in the Mysterious Tower is one of Riku’s favourite places to be. The tower itself is larger than it appears from the outside, and the library is testament to that: a vast room with ceilings that appear almost as tall as the tower itself, walls lined with towering shelves overflowing with books, and a labyrinth of bookshelves on the floor proper.
Despite the sheer size of the place, it’s cosy. While difficult to navigate, there are hidden little book nooks throughout the stacks; pockets of plush cushions and comfortable chairs illuminated by floating candles that alight as someone passes by, beckoning them to make themselves comfortable and read for a while.
Riku’s favourite is an especially hidden alcove he’d stumbled across while trying to map the library (an impossible feat, since the stacks seem to enjoy shifting around now and then.) He finds himself in there whenever there’s a lot on his mind, musing over his options. Sora and Kairi call it his ‘manly brooding spot’ despite his protests, but they also leave him alone when he’s there.
It’s nice.
He lies on the chaise in his corner, frowning up at the pinprick stars on the ceiling. Usually, he can’t lie like this, as the plush lounge is too short for his frame. Sora, though, is the perfect size to lounge comfortably on such a small couch.
Speaking of Sora…
Riku flushes at the thought. He’d woken up in the morning, this time not with a desperate urge to use the bathroom, but instead…
Shamefully, he’d been aroused. Perhaps it had been the vague, foggy threads of a dream he can’t remember, something heated and passionate enough that Sora’s body had…
He strains his memory, trying to remember specifics of the dream, a familiar spark of curiosity tinged with nausea at the thought of snooping on what could be one of Sora’s more private dreams.
Who had Sora been dreaming of?
Had it been… could it have been…?
Riku’s frown morphs into an irritated scowl.
Quadratum still feels too raw, too much. They’ve both carefully avoided speaking about it, and Riku has even been avoiding thinking about it. One day, they’ll have to sit down and confront what happened, he knows they will. For now, he’d like to live in blissful ignorance.
He’d like to spend time with Sora, but not… not like things usually are now, fighting and saving the world and anything more complicated than when they were kids, spending every spare moment on the sun-drenched beaches of Destiny Islands. Making their own fun, dreaming about other worlds, free of scars and trauma and the types of situations that almost broke what should be an unbreakable relationship.
He wishes Sora were here.
Has he always been this clingy?
Mickey had relayed the message early this morning, dragging Sora away from his breakfast for ‘Keyblade Master’ business. Riku made to follow after, to attempt to explain, because it was a mission for him, but Mickey had just looked at him regretfully and emphasised the need for discretion.
Riku’s words had died on his lips, and his gut had churned with worry.
Sora is capable. He knows Sora can handle this! It’s just, well… subtlety isn’t really his strong suit, is it?
More than that, he can’t quiet the irrational urge to keep Sora at his side. How many times have things gone wrong while they’ve been parted? He’s almost lost Sora more times than he can count. It might just be a routine mission, something anyone could handle, but ever since…
Ever since…
He’s terrified that he could lose Sora for good, and permanently this time. It’s been eating at him for a long time. He and Sora haven’t really talked about it, but it’s obvious that Sora doesn’t want to. Riku can’t blame him; he doesn’t want to, either.
Perhaps… maybe that’s the solution, or at least the reason this odd situation has arisen.
Quadratum had been almost too real, eerily mundane in a way opposed to most of the worlds Riku has had the good fortune to visit. Still, it had its influence on Sora, and on Riku despite the aggressively mundane veneer.
Maybe they should talk about it. Set aside… everything, and talk. Like they used to.
He can’t bring himself to think about it too long. It makes something in his chest feel fragile, ready to snap into a million glass shards and dig into his most vulnerable places. He’s probably overthinking it. Sora hasn’t acted distant or unusual… not since before they swapped bodies, anyhow.
He’s overthinking it.
Everything’s fine.
They’ll talk when Sora gets back.
Waiting is difficult, even when he’s himself. In Sora’s body, it’s torture. He’s fighting to keep still, to relax and do something other than dwell on the past, or where Sora might be right now. What enemies he might be encountering, whether he’ll stick to using his own keyblade or whether he’ll… whether he’ll use Riku’s.
The thought makes his chest warm, like a tiny candle has sparked to life. Sora, being Sora, had taken a while to recover from the shock of switching bodies… but as soon as he’d started to think about things, his oft-positive attitude had caught fire. He’d immediately wondered if their swapped bodies meant he could summon Braveheart, and so they’d gone to try it out.
Riku can’t explain the reason he can summon his keyblade, but he knows that it’s somehow connected to the heart, though he doubts it’s in a literal, physical sense. Either way, it had felt obvious in hindsight when Sora had immediately summoned his own keyblade despite being in Riku’s body.
Still, seeing as he’s one of the most determined and stubborn people Riku has had the fortune of meeting, he’d tried again and again, and eventually, well…
Riku chews his lip, thinking of Braveheart serving Sora, keeping him safe.
It’s a heady feeling.
“There you are,” Kairi says, exasperated.
Riku blinks out of his increasingly unrealistic fantasies of protecting Sora, his face heating as his eyes dart to the concealed entry to his refuge.
Kairi’s hands are on her hips, curled into fists but not clenched. There’s a crease at her brow that indicates she’s frustrated, but not angry, which is a good sign.
“Uh… hello?” he greets, wondering whether he’s forgotten some commitment or other he had with her.
Kairi ducks into the alcove, looking around curiously at the tiny twinkling lights lining the shelves and the books— mainly sappy queer romance novels, but he sincerely hopes she doesn’t notice that or chooses to believe Riku’s choice of hidey-hole has nothing to do with the nature of the books. Or the fluffy blanket he’s laying on, which is startlingly reminiscent of a pastel-hued pride flag. “Huh. I looked for you everywhere, Sora. I’m not ashamed to say I never even considered you’d be moping around the library!”
Riku is a touch offended on Sora’s behalf… but only a touch.
Kairi snorts at whatever expression is crossing his face, and he realises— too late— that he probably should have reacted to her obvious tease. He’s opening his mouth to do just that, when she shuffles closer, shoving at his legs so that she can sit on the couch, too.
“You still haven’t talked to him?” She smoothes the back of her skirt neatly as she takes a seat next to him.
Riku lurches into a sitting position, laying his head on the back of the couch so he can sigh dramatically at her question. He’s been thinking about her implication that Sora might have a crush on him… but he really can’t see it at all.
Despite the strange circumstances, Sora is still Sora.
Maybe Sora had, a long time ago. After everything they’ve been through, he can’t imagine Sora still thinking he’s cool.
Kairi wouldn’t lie about Sora’s feelings, especially not to his face… but there is some key context she doesn’t know. She wasn’t there, so she didn’t see…
“I haven’t,” Riku says eventually, but hastens to continue before she can scold him. “Look, we got the mission from Yen Sid, and I wanted to… I mean, I wanted to at least tag along…!”
Kairi’s face darkens. “Ah.” She taps a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “If they didn’t let you go, it has to be something really serious, right?”
Riku nods, hoping his anxiety isn’t too obvious on his face, but aware that Sora’s always been more expressive than him.
“He’ll be fine,” Riku insists, more for his own frazzled nerves than for Kairi’s sake. “I didn’t want him to be distracted.”
Kairi snorts. “You two are always distracting each other,” she teases, leaning her head on the back of the couch to mirror him and watching him assessingly. “What are you so afraid of?”
“If it’s serious, he needs to be focused,” he points out, stubbornly sticking with his excuse because he doesn’t know how to explain why Sora wouldn’t immediately confront him.
Sora isn’t ever afraid of anything. He’s usually the first to take the plunge, running in to help however he can without hesitation. Riku doesn’t think he’d hesitate if it came to feelings, either. That said, he thought… he thought Sora had feelings for Kairi, yet Sora’s never tried to confess to her.
He’s never really even hinted at it.
It doesn’t matter. The pressing issue, before Riku’s inconvenient feelings, is the talk they still haven’t had, that they’ve both been avoiding. And before even that, the issue of getting back to their own bodies.
Everything else can wait.
Kairi doesn’t know about Quadratum, though, or about the switch.
Riku doesn’t know if he should just tell her.
He hesitates for a long moment because some of the things Kairi doesn’t know aren’t his to divulge.
Despite masquerading as Sora, he’s not about to start spilling his secrets without a reason that’s essentially life or death.
“There were…” he begins, swallowing hard. He doesn’t know how to approach this. How he would approach this, let alone Sora. “Things in Quadratum were… complicated.”
Kairi’s interest is piqued; he can tell. She pulls her legs up onto the couch, turning her entire body to face him and wrapping her arms around her knees. “Complicated,” she repeats, sceptical. “What does that mean, Sora?”
Riku feels as though he’s standing on a knife’s edge, aware that if he’s too secretive, he risks revealing that he’s not Sora— which makes him uncomfortable, seeing as he doesn’t have Sora here to help him explain— but if he reveals too much, it’s a breach of Sora’s trust.
“I know… I know I don’t really keep secrets,” Riku tries, closing his eyes against Kairi’s searching expression. “I don’t want to lie, but it’s difficult. It’s difficult to talk about this, so soon after it happened.”
Kairi shifts closer, as though she wants to reach out and offer comfort. “What happened in that place, Sora?” Her voice is hushed and wavers over Sora’s name. “Riku didn’t… force you to—”
Riku’s eyes snap open. “No, of course not!” he blurts, his face blazing with heat. He deeply appreciates Kairi’s concern for Sora’s welfare, even if it stings a little that she was so quick to accuse him of something unforgivable.
He dithers, caught between his real identity and the one he’s trying to portray, whether he should just tell Kairi what’s going on here because Sora isn’t here to defend himself, or clarify what exactly went on where even Riku isn’t sure.
In the end, he settles for the simplest answer. All he’d known, when he’d finally found Sora after such a long, tiring search.
He tries to project Sora’s unflinching sincerity, hoping Kairi understands that the circumstances hadn’t been Sora’s fault.
“It’s… I didn’t remember him, Kairi.”
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Notes:
I think based on the idea I have that the rating will end up at least M, so I have to change the rating accordingly. I'd prefer to err on the side of caution when it comes to content ratings, so even if it doesn't seem quite intense enough to warrant the M rating, I like to play it safe.
Chapter 5: 2.2: Sora (Day Two)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
Arendelle has changed since Sora last visited, but not nearly as much as Sora has. It’s been nice to see everyone again, but… something about the warm light of the fire hitting Anna’s hair had…
It reminded him of Quadratum. Of Strelitzia.
Notes:
This chapter contains a little Elsa/Honeymaren.
Chapter Text
Arendelle has changed since Sora last visited, but not nearly as much as Sora has. It’s been nice to see everyone again, but… something about the warm light of the fire hitting Anna’s hair had…
It reminded him of Quadratum. Of Strelitzia.
Even the thought of her sends him into a panic, for reasons he can’t explain.
He’d almost fled the overly warm room without thinking, lurching to his feet and bowing stiffly. Leaving Queen Anna and her guests without excusing himself could have reflected poorly on Riku. That’s the last thing he wants.
Now, Sora stands out on a frost-lined stone balcony, breath leaving his mouth in visible white puffs.
He’s alive. Quadratum is… he’s not there anymore. He’s safe.
The castle and its inhabitants are just as warm and welcoming as he remembers, even if he’s technically a new face.
Riku’s never visited before.
Sora feels disappointed that he’s taken Riku’s place. Riku should be here now, looking out over such a quiet, magical view.
Quadratum hadn’t ever been quiet.
There had always been a steady hum… electricity, voices, the distant echo of cars far below… Sora had never been somewhere with so many people, somewhere so constantly loud.
A place where he couldn’t easily walk from one end of town to the other, the cityscape stretching endlessly into the horizon like there was no end to it, the paths all packed with people and cars and skyscrapers so tall that looking up had made Sora dizzy for the first few months.
Places like this are more familiar. More peaceful, even if there’s something evil he’ll need to help vanquish.
The village of Arendelle is laid out before him, twinkling with colourful lights, sounds of merriment on the wind. Inside, Queen Anna and her dearest friends are also celebrating, some festival to mark the end of winter and usher in the first day of spring.
Sora can’t see any real evidence that Arendelle is anything other than the icy landscape he’s always known it as, but he supposes the season has only just changed. The view is still pretty, though, even if it’s cold.
Not as cold as it could be, though. Sora’s not sure whether it’s due to Elsa’s much finer control over her powers nowadays, or if it’s just that Riku’s always been better at handling the cold. Maybe it’s a bit of both.
The balcony door creaks as it swings open. “You shouldn’t stay out in the cold too long.”
Sora turns to look at Elsa, where she’s haloed in the light spilling out of the library doorway. The white dress she wears makes her look ethereal, like some of the various fairies and witches Sora’s seen in some of the more magical worlds. She really does look so much more herself now, something more relaxed in her glimmering eyes.
Sora huffs a laugh. “I suppose you’re right,” he muses, burrowing his nose into the fluffy fur coat he’d received when he arrived at the castle. “It helps that you’ve provided me with clothes to keep the worst out. Thank you, Elsa.”
The door closes, cutting off Kristoff’s low murmur and Olaf’s more boisterous tones, overlaid by a raucous burst of laughter from Anna and Honeymaren.
Her smile is small but pleased. He noticed how uncomfortable she’d been last time he was here, when he and his friends had tried to refer to her in much more formal terms. She seems so much more relaxed now, her hair loose and long, more colour in her face, and her smiles coming easier and more frequently.
She hesitates for a moment before joining him on the balcony. “You’ll be escorted through the forest at first light tomorrow,” she says, her tone perfectly neutral. “Honeymaren and her brother will be your guides.”
Sora has to remind himself that she doesn’t know Riku. He bites his tongue on the instinctive, overly familiar assurance that wants to burst forth: the reminder that he’d been with them when they’d traversed the forest the first time, is sure he can navigate The Enchanted Forest without assistance.
He turns to look out over the village instead, channelling Riku’s attitude with every fibre of his being. “That shouldn’t be necessary,” he insists, keeping his tone as polite as he can, which still comes across a little too aloof. Perfect. “I often work alone, I can—”
Unexpectedly, Elsa laughs. “You really are just like he described!” She says, lifting a pale hand to her mouth, like she’s trying to push the laughter back inside. “Sorry, it’s just… Sora talked about you so much! I suppose I was curious if…”
Sora can’t help the quiet chuckle that bursts forth at her words. “He’s known me for a long time,” he tells her. “As long as I can remember. No one knows me better.”
Elsa puts her bare hands on the frosted-over railings, as though the carved stone isn’t cold enough to glue an average person’s skin to them. She’s quiet for a long moment, hesitating again. “I guess… I guess that means you’re like us, then. Anna and I.”
Sora smiles at her, despite the way the description makes his chest ache. She’s right after all: to Riku, he’s always been something of a younger sibling. It certainly explains the teasing, almost verging on bullying, phase Riku had gone through not long before they’d left the Destiny Islands the first time. Brothers meant teasing, meant silly games and rivalries.
The urge to protect, too, because despite the ribbing and teasing, family has always been important to Riku.
Part of him wonders whether that familial relationship can survive what happened in Quadratum. What Riku had witnessed of Sora there, before Sora remembered himself. A larger part of him shies away from any thoughts of that place, because he might actually melt like a snowman in the summer sun if he dwells on Riku’s face when he’d seen—
“Yeah,” he answers, even though it hurts to admit it. “You could say we’re like brothers.”
Elsa is observant, though, her glacier-blue eyes trailing over his face carefully. “I could say that,” she says carefully, dragging the words out. “But you disagree.”
Sora looks away, embarrassed that she’s seen through him so easily, even though he has the colossal benefit of Riku’s inscrutable face. “I do,” he relents, chewing his lip. “Can I… tell you a secret?”
Elsa glances thoughtfully at the closed door behind them before nodding once. “As a friend of Sora’s,” she determines, her fair eyebrows downturned. “You have my confidence.”
Sora beams, his shoulders dropping for the first time since he got out of the gummi ship. “I’m not Riku,” he admits, and then takes a hasty step back, holding his hands up to ward off any potential ice powers. “I’m Sora! It’s… well, I don’t know how, actually! We… we woke up switched the other day.”
Elsa’s initial startled horror melts into confusion and then, strangely, obvious amusement. “Oh, my goodness,” she finally breathes, covering her mouth again to muffle her laughter. It’s louder this time, freer… like she’s more comfortable, like she’s amongst friends.
Sora’s touched that she feels more relaxed around him, but also a little sad that she’s still so guarded around strangers. It reminds him of… oh.
He supposes Riku is still like that, even after all this time.
Once Elsa composes herself, he explains a little more. It’s so weird to admit it to someone, but it feels oddly freeing. He hopes Riku won’t mind… Well, he’s quite confident Riku won’t mind because Riku can be kind of socially awkward. He imagines having to subtly introduce everyone in Arendelle, while Riku has to pretend he knows them already… no.
Sora would do it, obviously, but it would be a painful experience for Riku, and therefore best avoided.
“Oh, Sora,” Elsa titters, dabbing at her eyes. “You’re really something else.”
Sora leans his elbows against the balcony rail with a wistful sigh, not even upset that the lovely warm coat he’s wearing will be slowly soaking through from the exposure to the ice.
“I don’t know how I get myself in these situations,” he declares, staring down at Riku’s arms, Riku’s hands, thankfully covered by thick mittens. He finds himself endlessly distracted by how long and graceful they are.
Elsa turns to lean her back comfortably against the balcony, which should be incredibly uncomfortable since the ice is directly against the dip of her lower back, and she’s wearing little more than a (gorgeous, but thin) white dress. She’s Elsa, though, so he supposes she’s perfectly comfortable.
“Perhaps it’s connected to your feelings,” she muses, tucking her hair behind her ear before sliding a knowing glance his way. “Not-so-brotherly as they are.”
Sora ignores the flush that’s trying to crawl from his neck up to his face, hoping the cool night will conceal it. “There is that,” he concedes, trying to think of something more plausible, something that can disprove her idea, because there’s no way that… Riku doesn’t…
They lapse into silence, Sora unable to come up with anything beyond ‘why would he like me? I’m… me.’ Which makes perfect sense to him, but he’s not sure that he can elaborate upon if asked. Not in a way that won’t just humiliate him even further.
“A secret for a secret,” Elsa announces suddenly, nodding to herself. “I know you didn’t come to me for advice, but… I think you should tell Riku how you feel. Even if… even if he doesn’t feel the same, sometimes it’s worth it to relieve yourself of the burden of those feelings. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
Sora frowns. “Wouldn’t I be burdening him, though? By telling him?”
Elsa sighs. “I suppose you could be, which is why you have to consider it carefully. After this long, however… aren’t you just hurting yourself by pretending it’s all fine as it is?”
Sora thinks about Anna, how she’d explained that Elsa had isolated herself in her bedroom for years out of fear that her cryokinesis would hurt someone. All that time, living in despair and anxiety, the dark feelings eating at her until fear controlled the ability, not Elsa.
It’s not the same though. His feelings can’t be warped in the same way— though a small part of him whispers, ‘Oh? Then what about Quadratum?’— because… because Riku is his best friend.
It’s enough to have that.
“I… you’re right,” Sora says anyway, because Elsa is his friend. It’s good advice, even if he won’t take it. “I’ve just… I’ve been running away for so long.”
“Confronting something you’ve been running from is terrifying,” Elsa agrees quietly. She takes a deep breath, letting it out in a slow sigh, as though she’s bracing herself. Unlike Sora, her breath doesn’t come out in a misty white cloud. “It’s Honeymaren. My secret.”
She doesn’t bother to elaborate.
Sora straightens and turns, expecting the door to open and the woman in question to appear and explain or something. When she doesn’t, he looks at Elsa for an explanation that doesn’t come. She stares at her feet, mouth pinched and cheeks a shade pinker than before.
Sora doesn’t get it.
And then something about her expression clicks, and he realises.
He does get it.
“You and…?” He asks, his eyebrows springing up.
Elsa’s eyes meet his, and she gives him a very tiny shrug.
Sora’s heart fills with joy, warming him from the inside out, and he can’t stop the wide grin that takes over his face. It probably looks crazy on Riku, who is so much more reserved than he is, but he can’t help it! He’s so thrilled that Elsa has found someone, that she’s in love, that someone loves her like she deserves…!
As quickly as the warm bubble of joy expands, it deflates just as fast. “You said it was a secret,” he realises, his smile slipping off his face.
Elsa crosses her arms, cocking an eyebrow imperiously, which he hasn’t seen since… before. When she was lashing out at everyone, even her sister.
“There are circumstances,” she tells him diplomatically. “Rules. Things that make everything complicated.”
Sora scrambles to understand. “It’s not… it’s not because she’s Northuldra, is it? If you’re not the queen anymore—”
Elsa looks away. “I’m free to choose now,” she agrees, but her voice is still tinged with sadness. “I’m free to do as I wish, in a way that I never was before. I’m… blessed with this freedom which my sister will never have, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. Not everyone has the same freedom. She doesn’t.”
Sora’s mind races, almost as quickly as it usually does in his own body, because Elsa is looking at him like she’s just handed him a key, given him all the information he needs to understand, and yet he has no clue at all. He feels like he’s been launched out into the deep glacial waters surrounding the castle, trying desperately to tread water but sinking like there’s a shackle around his ankle…
A shackle.
Like… a responsibility? Yet Elsa is free, so it must be…
Sora blinks, eyes flicking up to meet Elsa’s.
They look as deep and dark as the depthless glacial waters beyond the balcony, and twice as sorrowful.
“What’s stopping her?” Sora’s voice comes out hoarse and shaky, a little afraid of what could possibly prevent someone wanting a person like Elsa.
Elsa tips her head back, looking up at the sky.
Sora follows her gaze, startled to see that the sky isn’t dark anymore, but instead begins to light up in incredible swathes of green, pink, blue, and purple, lazy snakelike streams of light flourishing as far as he can see. He stares, overwhelmed by the stunning display to the point that his eyes begin to mist, and he has to blink before he breaks into tears.
“She’s promised to another,” Elsa says, so softly he could believe he imagined it totally, if not for the similar appearance of tears beading at the outer corner of her eyes. “A man from another tribe. Considering how long her tribe was isolated, it’s so important to reach out and create new bonds. To break such a promise… it could destroy them.”
Sora’s heart breaks for her. His instinct is to somehow fix this, but he often doesn’t know how to repair things that a keyblade can’t handle. His jaw clenches against the tirade that wants to spill out, the claim that it’s unfair and there has to be something they can do. There has to be a way that Elsa can be together with Honeymaren. Elsa deserves love just as much as anyone else, deserves the chance to throw caution to the wind and follow her heart…!
Elsa nods, clearly understanding his train of thought without him saying a single word. “Sometimes the stars just don’t align,” she says gently, stepping forward and reaching out to rest a surprisingly warm hand against his frozen cheek. “I’m hoping with all my heart that your Riku feels the same, Sora. And… I have a lot of hope.”
The door opens abruptly, throwing the dark balcony into sharp relief.
“Oh,” Honeymaren exclaims, her face flushing. “Um. There you are!”
Her dark eyes flick from Elsa to Sora, widening when she sees Elsa’s hand where it’s still on his cheek.
She sputters, taking a step back and almost tripping. “I’ll just, uh—”
The door slams shut, enveloping the balcony in darkness once more.
“Oh no,” Sora says softly, feeling awful.
Elsa’s face is carefully blank, like she’s carved from marble. A living ice sculpture. “It’s for the best,” she murmurs, but it’s like she’s trying to convince herself. “Come. We should go back inside before you catch your death.”
She turns to head back inside, and then pauses.
“Elsa?” he ventures, feeling young, naive, and wretched.
Elsa smiles over her shoulder, looking far too pleased considering what she’s just revealed. “Good luck, Sora,” she says softly, her expression somewhat teasing. “If nothing else, he’s very pretty!”
She leaves Sora alone on the balcony, completely lost for words.
He stares up at the spirals of colour painting the sky like it’s a living, breathing canvas, and allows himself to shed a handful of tears while he’s alone.
Once he’s composed, he takes a moment to concentrate and summons Braveheart to his shaking hand.
The keyblade heeds his call almost as easily as his own does, and he marvels at how perfectly it fits in his hand (Riku’s hand.) He reminds himself that this… this is a manifestation of Riku’s heart, and he’s holding it in his hand, it came when he called, Riku trusts him with this…!
Riku is his best friend. He doesn’t think he can compromise that, but… but he’ll consider Elsa’s words.
Sora needs to figure out how to swap their bodies back. Once he and Riku are back to normal… once they’re back, then he can think about finally talking.
It’s a terrifying thought, but he feels as though he owes it to Elsa. He should at least try. There’s nothing stopping him except himself, is there?
He needs to think. Maybe he just needs a little more time.
He looks wistfully over the village of Arendelle, dappled in muted colours from the painted sky overhead. It’s so pretty, so peaceful… he wishes Riku was here with him, and that makes his heart lurch uncomfortably once more.
He shouldn’t feel so nervous at the thought of seeing his best friend.
Sora scrubs his hands over his face, embarrassed. It’s just Riku! They’ve been friends forever, he talks to him all the time!
Something has shifted though, hasn’t it? There’s been something different, ever since Sora came back.
He has too many questions, and can’t figure out how to untangle all the threads. Solving mysteries hasn’t ever been his strong suit.
One thing is becoming increasingly, unavoidably clear.
He and Riku need to talk.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 6: 5.1: Riku (Day Five)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
Sora is above him, otherworldly and gorgeous in the silver moonlight. His skin glistens with perspiration, tanned and so smooth, more muscular at the shoulders, stomach and thighs than one would think when looking at his lithe figure.
Riku stares up at him, eyes damp with sweat or tears, or both. His fingers scrabble at Sora’s hips, sliding over slick skin, desperate for purchase.
Notes:
Please note the rating change. This chapter contains a scene that is explicit.
For more information, please see the updated tags and/or refer to the end notes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Riku is dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming, because he’s definitely had this one before.
More often than he’d like to admit.
It’s night, but the room is illuminated by the moon, everything alight in beautiful shades of blue. He’s lying on the bed; his sheets are long gone because it’s so hot. He’s slick with sweat. Gasping up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back.
Sora is above him, otherworldly and gorgeous in the silver moonlight. His skin glistens with perspiration, tanned and so smooth, more muscular at the shoulders, stomach and thighs than one would think when looking at his lithe figure.
Riku stares up at him, eyes damp with sweat or tears, or both. His fingers scrabble at Sora’s hips, sliding over slick skin, desperate for purchase.
Sora’s hands are planted firmly on Riku’s thighs, firm and confident, his legs splayed wide at Riku’s sides, exposing every part of him to Riku’s covetous gaze.
What a shameful fantasy. Of all the things he could dream— candlelight, pressing Sora gently against soft sheets, taking care of him— his mind gives him this: Sora whining and bouncing on his cock, Riku frozen and useless beneath him.
He thinks— he thinks sex is supposed to be loving, and mutual. He’s supposed to help somehow, make Sora feel good, too…!
Sora feels great, if the breathy little noises he keeps making are any indication, but it still feels overly selfish.
“Does it feel okay?” He has to ask, because Sora looks amazing, looks incredible, but those noises spilling from his lips could just as easily be discomfort, couldn’t they?
Sora shifts, stilling for a moment before his hands move, resting on Riku’s chest. He uses Riku’s pecs for leverage as he starts moving once more.
“It’s,” Sora breathes, eyes meeting Riku’s and pinning him in place. They’re bright silver, bleached by the moonlight, but just as pretty as they always are. “It’s everything.” He closes his eyes again, and his fingers twitch against Riku’s chest as he speeds up, rolling his hips harder like he wants more of Riku inside.
Riku shudders beneath him, his body on fire, all of his nerves lit up in the best way, just a vague dreamy sense of pleasure slowly drowning him, stealing all higher thought, his mind reduced to chanting Sora Sora Sora because nothing else could possibly matter—
Sora’s eyes slide open slowly, his face tilting down to look at Riku. He has a tiny, serene little smile on his face, exhausted but happy.
It makes Riku’s heart flutter, that wonderful affection, adoration, love, all directed at him. Directed at him by Sora, who he loves so dearly, who he’d die for, who he’d live for—
“I love you,” Sora breathes, hands finding Riku’s face. He ducks down to press clumsy lips against Riku’s.
Riku’s hips jerk up reflexively, and his fingers tighten around Sora’s narrow hips.
Sora’s fingers dig into Riku’s cheeks almost painfully, and he whines against Riku’s mouth. “I love you,” he repeats, the words slurring like he’s drunk. “Yozora…!”
Riku snaps awake like he’s been slapped, lurching upright and pressing himself back against the headboard so hard his back twinges.
He breathes hard, looking down at his hands, which clench into fists against his thighs. Small and brown. Sora’s hands.
Riku is hard again, which causes his face to flush with heat and his stomach to curdle with shame, glancing briefly at the tent in his pants before forcing himself to avert his eyes.
His body’s reaction to such a depraved dream isn’t something he can blame on Sora. Sora’s body might seem more easily stimulated than his own— something he carefully does not allow himself to dwell on— but that’s no excuse. Dreams like the one he’s been having… they feel disgraceful, and they make him feel like a fraud.
Riku has spent a good chunk of his life in love with Sora, but all of his conscious daydreams and fantasies have been carefully innocent. He’s desperately avoided contemplating anything more incriminating than holding hands and chaste kisses because it feels gross to think of his closest friend like that— especially since Sora wouldn’t give him permission to do so— but he can’t control his dreams. He can try his best to have explicit dreams about faceless men he doesn’t know, but more often than not, on the rare occasions he still has such dreams, his subconscious is all too happy to supply Sora as his partner.
It’s one thing to dream about sex; it’s another for that dream to feature your best friend riding you vigorously when you’ll have to face him sooner rather than later. And look him in the eye without bursting into flames on the spot from sheer mortification.
And to make matters even worse…
To dream about your best friend, who you’re in love with, sleeping with someone who isn’t even you.
It’s a nightmare.
Riku groans up at the ceiling, before awkwardly crawling out of bed. He ignores the very pressing problem between his legs, hobbling straight to the bathroom to shower.
His eyes remain fixed on the wall the entire time he undresses, and once the shower is running, he cranks up the cold water in an effort to get rid of the problem.
The shower is so cold it takes his breath away, so he’s stuck gasping against the tiles for the first minute, his traitorous mind straying to how much better it’d be if it were hot. Warm, wet, Sora’s skin flushing pink and glistening; it would be so easy to give in, to let his hand stray south and take care of the problem in a much more satisfying way.
Riku scrunches his eyes closed, wanting to smack his head against the tiles. This truly is his own personal hell; trapped in his best friend’s body, his most important person, who he’s been in love with since before he knew what love was.
He’s certainly yearned for Sora for a long time, too – a shameful amount of years at this point, for someone who is still technically a teenager and therefore driven to distraction by hormones.
That’s what his mother had always said, anyway. Boys will be boys, they can’t help themselves, all that nonsense about testosterone and poor impulse control that Riku has never really understood to be true.
Maybe there is something wrong with him. Sora’s body certainly seems… excitable.
It’s not like he’s never… He jerks off, just like anyone else. He’d done it a lot, when he first figured out how to enjoy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know how, or doesn’t like it, he…
He’s only ever wanted Sora. That’s the truth of everything.
Now he has him, is inside his body, and Sora would probably never know if he slipped up and touched himself.
Touched Sora.
Yet he can’t do it. He won’t. It would be a terrible breach of privacy, an intentional step over a boundary he has to keep between them at all costs.
And… and he’d never be able to look Sora in the eye.
Riku shivers against the tiles.
His morning shower might not be pleasant, but it takes care of his problem.
Riku forgoes breakfast in an attempt to avoid Kairi. She’s been looking at him oddly ever since he told her about Quadratum, and he doesn’t know what those penetrating, thoughtful expressions mean.
Instead, he makes a beeline for the training rooms. If he can’t stop thinking about Sora, he’ll just have to force himself to stop thinking at all. If he trains hard enough, all he’ll be able to think about is how exhausted he is. At least, he hopes so.
He misses Sora.
Scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration, he tries to focus. Focus, breathe, summon Br— summon the Kingdom Key, because he’s Sora right now.
His thoughts scatter again, and when he tries to rally them back into some sense of order, he’s once more stuck on the thorn in his side.
Sora’s voice, breathy and hazy with pleasure.
“Yozora…!”
He tries to stop thinking about Quadratum. It’s all in the past, they can’t change it, he needs to move on.
Sora’s his best friend. Nothing will ever change that.
Not on his end, at least.
The switch is something he needs to dedicate himself to solving, because even if they never talk about Quadratum again, they need their own bodies back. If Riku stays stuck in Sora’s body much longer, he may just go insane.
He can’t get used to the way Sora’s mind flits from thought to thought, and then catches on a particular one that won’t go away, repeating it like the world’s most irritating jukebox.
“Yozora…!”
He grits his teeth, slashing at the air with the keyblade faster, harder, hoping that he can exhaust himself enough that he doesn’t have to hear the constant echo of Sora’s voice sounding like… like that.
What clues do they have? They’d awoken already switched, so they don’t know the cause. Is it some kind of curse? Spell? An… an enchantment? Was it caused by someone, and if so, was it someone who wants to hurt them, or help them?
He discards that idea immediately. There’s no benefit to him and Sora being in each other’s bodies. They’re both skilled with their blades. Sora is small but wickedly fast, stronger than he looks, and is amazing at using his momentum to launch himself around without losing any power in his swings. Riku is bulkier and slower, but it means he can put a lot more power behind a swing without tiring as quickly – something he’s currently finding out the hard way.
His blade falls to the side and his shoulders slump with exhaustion. The training room is silent, so his breathing sounds abnormally loud, and the tired, panting breaths remind him of—
Think.
He saw Sora, the night before they switched. Had sought him out specifically, in fact.
Riku had wanted to talk. Needed to talk. About Sora, about Yozora, what it all meant.
Sora brushing him off hadn’t been surprising, but it had hurt, causing a dull ache in his chest that he can’t quite name. It wasn’t like Sora had rejected him, or didn’t want to be friends anymore. They still talked, just as they always do.
That’s the problem, maybe, Riku thinks. Sora’s just so nice that even when he’s avoiding Riku, he’s not really avoiding him.
Things had seemed normal, even though Sora’s smiles hadn’t reached his eyes, even though Riku felt like he was screaming internally through the whole conversation.
What else could there be?
If Sora isn’t ready to talk about Quadratum, Riku can’t force the issue. And Riku’s feelings, that ache in his chest, like something small and fragile has cracked… that doesn’t have anything to do with Sora. It’s his own problem, something he has to fix by himself.
Whatever it is, it will mend itself with time. And with distractions. And reminding himself that Sora is his best friend.
That’s enough.
It has to be.
“Sora! There you are!”
The door opens with enough force that it ricochets and almost hits Mickey as he bounces through the door.
Riku blinks at him, wondering why he’s in such a rush. “Your Majesty…?”
“Just Mickey, Sora, please,” Mickey says, distracted. He’s got some papers in his hands, which he shuffles through before looking up. “I was wondering where you were… Riku’s back! You weren’t there when he landed, so I was concerned!”
Riku tries to pull his mouth into a pleased smile, but isn’t sure how successful he is. “I had no idea!” He tries to inject as much cheer in his voice, even as his stomach fills with icy dread. “Is he… he’s okay? He’s not hurt?”
He doesn’t really know how to act. Sora can be more deferent to Mickey and still struggles to call him by his name, but… they aren’t friends in the same way Riku is with Mickey.
They get along well enough, but they don’t have the special bond he and Mickey have forged as… well, brothers in arms, he supposes. It’s a strange relationship, he knows, seeing as Mickey is some kind of anthropomorphic mouse. It’s stranger still because Mickey is sort of like a caring father figure, yet sometimes seems perilously young.
In those moments, Riku feels the urge to protect him, to be the big brother he’d once tried to be for Sora.
“He’s just fine, you’ll see!” Mickey holds the door open, gesturing for him to follow. He seems quite excited, though Riku doesn’t know why. Maybe the mission had been more important than he had thought.
It can’t hurt to ask, he supposes.
“I know you can’t tell me what the mission was,” Riku begins awkwardly, hopping up the steps as quickly as he can without leaving Mickey too far behind. “Can I at least know… It went well?”
“He did very well, just as anticipated, Sora!” Mickey confirms, smiling widely up at him. “No one was injured or anything; he got a glowing report from Queen Anna…!”
Riku stops abruptly, frowning down at Mickey.
… Who has also gone still, toeing the floor sheepishly.
“He was in Arendelle?”
Mickey fumbles over his words, mortified that he’s given something away, but Riku feels his chest glow warm with fondness.
Maybe he’d gotten carried away and revealed something he shouldn’t have, but it had all been in the spirit of reassuring Riku that Sora was fine. Or… reassuring Sora that Riku was fine, he supposes. Either way, Mickey is a great friend, though perhaps not one he’s going to spill his darkest secrets to.
“It’s fine, your Majesty,” Riku hurries to assure him, resuming his trek upstairs. “Sor—um, Riku would probably have told me anyway.”
Mickey huffs, dismayed but not chastising. “I suppose when it comes to the two of you, there’s no point trying to keep things classified.”
Riku shrugs helplessly. Perhaps, if Sora had been given the Keyblade Master title he deserved, they wouldn’t have to worry about Riku spilling the beans to someone without the ‘clearance.’
Mickey knows that just as well as Riku does, so he elects to stay quiet on the matter. “Do you think Riku liked Arendelle?” he ventures, sounding almost shy.
“I imagine he would,” Riku says quietly. Sora had described it to him, and it had sounded like one of the tiny snow globes he’d seen in Christmas Town, only real. A beautiful village, a castle on a lake, the glacial waters clear and aquamarine.
Despite growing up on a tropical island, Riku loves the cold. The snow. It’s still so novel.
It’s not all Arendelle has to offer, though, from what Sora’s told him.
A melancholy queen with ice powers. Her happy-go-lucky sister, who almost sacrificed herself to save her.
Anna is the queen now, which feels oddly fitting. It had sounded, at least second hand, like the crown had weighed heavy on Elsa’s shoulders. From what he knows of the last time Sora was there, she’s not as unhappy as she used to be.
He doesn’t know her, but he’s still strangely proud. He knows what it’s like to feel… isolated. To feel so sad it’s like drowning, but you can’t propel yourself to the surface, no matter how hard you kick.
Maybe it’s weird, to feel such kinship with someone he’s never met. He’s spent his time in the darkness, though, and made his way out the other side.
He’s glad she’s finding her own path to the dawn.
Riku opens his mouth, not sure what he’s about to say, before realising Mickey isn’t with him. He turns, finding Mickey standing at the portal to Yen Sid’s study, shuffling from foot to foot.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Mickey says, nodding towards another portal down the hall. “That one on the left will take you to the ship. I’ll send a missive to Yen Sid that the mission is complete, and get the paperwork ready for Riku’s report. Don’t you distract him, Sora! It’s due before midnight!”
He hurries through the portal, and Riku winces at the thought of Sora trying to do his paperwork. If worse comes to worst, he supposes he can hear Sora’s breakdown of the events and dictate a report to Sora, but it’s still going to be difficult.
He wishes he could just write it himself.
Riku thinks about Sora’s handwriting and hastily discards the thought.
Oh, well. He’ll think of something. Hopefully.
The portal looms closer with every step down the hall, and despite himself, Riku’s heart begins to race, his palms begin to sweat.
He can act normal; he has to.
It’s just Sora.
So why does it all feel so difficult?
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Notes:
Note: in this chapter Riku has an explicit dream where Sora rides him. Riku awakens from the dream when Sora cries out a name that isn't his. If this is not the type of content you wish to see, please don't read this chapter/fic. Thank you!
Chapter 7: 5.2: Sora (Day Five)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
It’s almost overwhelming: the warmth and the soothing smell and Riku’s hands so gentle and careful, something quiet and intimate about having his hair washed by someone he—
“I have no clue how you even managed to do this,” Riku says, so close his breath warms Sora’s exposed ear and makes his stomach squirm.
Notes:
I apologise for the delay in updating. My mother went to hospital for a routine surgery and there were some unexpected complications, so things have been a little hectic! She's doing much better now, so hopefully we're back to our regular not-so-regular updating schedule.
Chapter Text
Sora breathes in slowly, trying not to alert Riku to the way he shudders.
The bathroom feels smaller than usual. It’s filled with steam that smells like Riku’s body wash and Riku’s shampoo. Riku’s using his products instead of Sora’s because of the migraines.
Sora didn’t know that some scents and fragrances give Riku migraines, and smelling them on his skin all day will just make them worse. Sora had no idea that was a thing.
Riku’s also using his own shampoo because Sora’s isn’t the right kind, which is news to him. He didn’t even know there were different kinds. Riku’s shampoo smells good, though, a heady floral scent, strong but not sickly, brightened with lemon, orange and a distinctly tropical scent that might even be paopu.
It’s almost overwhelming: the warmth and the soothing smell and Riku’s hands so gentle and careful, something quiet and intimate about having his hair washed by someone he—
“I have no clue how you even managed to do this,” Riku says, so close his breath warms Sora’s exposed ear and makes his stomach squirm.
Sora tries to press his shoulders harder against the side of the tub as subtly as he can manage, grateful for the bubbles hiding his nudity— and therefore Riku’s naked body— from both his own greedy eyes as well as Riku’s. He doesn’t need his body to have any… visible reactions to Riku, that’s for sure.
Sora keeps his eyes on the other end of the bathtub, wishing he could think of something other than Riku’s hands— his, actually, but it’s Riku, so it doesn’t matter— sliding over his scalp, nails scratching here and there and making him shiver.
He hasn’t been touched like this since…
“It was really cold,” he manages to answer, before his thoughts inevitably turn to Quadratum. “My hair froze and then, uh… there was lots of that weird oily gunk. I tried to fix it myself, but… ”
Riku sighs behind him, working the shampoo into a lather for the second time. “I was wondering what it was. You’re still covered in it,” he grouses, but doesn’t stop washing Sora’s hair.
Sora shrugs. His gunk-covered back makes a gross squelching noise against the wall of the tub. “I’m hoping it soaks off,” he tries, wincing. “Sorry, things were going really well up to the, uh… gunk monster. Thing.”
Riku snorts. “At least it didn’t get stuck in my hair. Or stain it.”
Sora cringes, forcing his shoulders not to curl in with shame the way they reflexively want to. He’d looked practically unrecognisable on the way home, the reflective surfaces in the gummi ship showing a living oil slick, long hair stiff and dark, facial features vague beneath the sticky, slimy substance. He’d come straight home as soon as he was sure the people of Arendelle weren’t at risk; the gummi ship was relatively easy to clean, from his experience.
He’s not so sure about the castle, and… he didn’t want to walk whatever this stuff was inside and cause a mess.
Somehow, he thinks sourly, he was the only one who managed to get inked.
Riku lapses into silence, seemingly content to scrub at Sora’s hair until he’s sure it’s no longer covered in goop.
It’s his hair, so he can do whatever he likes, Sora supposes.
Even if those hands on his sensitive scalp, the feeling of someone hovering so close over his back, and the occasional puff of warm air against his damp skin is making his head spin.
The silence allows Sora’s mind to wander, and that can be dangerous. Riku’s been quiet and thoughtful since Sora got back, which isn’t exactly unusual. It’s just, Sora suspects he might be a little jealous that Sora got to go on what should have been his mission. And that Sora visited Arendelle again when Riku has never been.
Riku had been given clearance to leave the tower, while Sora should have still been ‘resting.’ It’s not fair that he’s been cooped up for the last few days. Sora needs to figure out how to make it up to him.
“No more sludge, at least,” Riku mumbles, swiping foam from Sora’s forehead before it can drip into and sting his eyes. “Rinse.”
Sora obediently slides under the water, scrubbing the suds out of his hair as quickly as he can before surfacing with a sputter. Riku’s hair has gotten long again, and the bangs cover Sora’s eyes completely. He can feel the waterlogged hair between his shoulderblades, tickling the centre of his back where it’s scarred and sensitive. Sora’s never had long hair before, and finds himself surprised by how it feels when it’s wet. Unlike his own, which always feels pretty coarse, Riku’s is smooth and silky against his skin, pooling over broad shoulders and dripping into his eyes like water.
He really hopes the stuff on his back isn’t undoing all Riku’s hard work.
“Better,” Riku says, and even under Sora’s cheerful tone, there’s a subtle ominous vibe.
Sora goes perfectly still like a prey animal, tempted to curl up into a ball to make himself a smaller target.
“Time to detangle,” Riku continues, too cheerful in a way that promises pain.
Sora winces as Riku begins combing the hair, starting at the very ends and catching on knots every few minutes.
He’s never been so thorough with his own hair. Surely there are worse tangles in his own, but this experience is making him scared to try getting a comb through it. Usually he quickly brushes it and is done, but he supposes it must have plenty of tangles, since it’s so… wild.
He tries to take his mind off of the occasional snags, Riku taking his time finding them and then working them loose. It’s soothing, even if it stings every now and then, and he finds his eyes slipping halfway closed, post-mission exhaustion clouding his thoughts and weighing down his limbs.
When was the last time he felt so taken care of? He swallows with difficulty as his thoughts stray in that direction, suddenly homesick. It’s been a long time since he’s seen his mother, who is definitely the type to pamper him. She used to trim his hair, washing and carefully brushing it smooth before trimming away any split ends. It hadn’t prevented his hair from sticking straight out like he’d been hit with a wayward thunder spell, but it was… nice.
To be doted upon.
He doesn’t think Riku’s ever had something like that, and it makes him feel odd. A dull ache in his chest, similar to the pang he sometimes gets where he still has a scar, but less sharp and tender. Without thinking, he tries to trace the scar over his heart.
It’s not there, of course. He’s still stuck in Riku’s body.
“Stay still, oh my God,” Riku complains, tapping the crown of Sora’s head with his comb. “Don’t move so suddenly, I’ll rip my hair out.”
Riku has accused Sora of being overly dramatic, sometimes, but Sora thinks he does his fair share of overexaggeration here and there.
“As if I could move enough to make you rip it out,” he huffs, but forces himself still. It’s much easier than it would be if he were in his own body, which is still difficult to get used to.
Riku gathers all of Sora’s hair in one hand, and then stills. “Oh, what is…” he blurts, startled.
Sora can’t move, due to the hand wrapped firmly around his hair, so it takes him a moment to realise what’s changed.
He’s sitting up instead of lounging against the edge of the tub, which means Riku can see his back. Riku’s back, with the Dream Eater mark. He’s never seen it, Sora realises, and then feels awful.
Did Riku even know it was there?
Shaking fingers press gently against his back, close to his shoulder blade but not quite touching the scar.
“I’ve…” Riku breathes, tracing the border like he’s afraid to actually put hands on it. “I’ve had this the whole time?”
Sora winces. He really hadn’t mentioned it to Riku? Ever? He feels like the worst friend in all the worlds.
It’s not like he sees Riku without a shirt often, but he’d at least glimpsed the scar and figured out what it was, since it has such a distinctive shape. The Spirit Emblem: a large curving mark on Riku’s back that identifies him as a Dream Eater. It rests between his shoulderblades, bordered in thick dark lines which make it look like a tattoo more than a scar, and swathes the skin in a gradient from lightest apricot at the top to a saturated burnt orange at the base.
Riku pushes Sora’s hair over his shoulder to get a better look, but he’s still eerily quiet.
“As far as I know,” Sora answers belatedly, trying to twist to see Riku’s expression without blocking his view. “I’ve only ever seen flashes, but I… I thought you knew it was there.”
He sees Riku shake his head out of the very corner of his eye.
“No,” Riku says, distracted. His fingers still rest close to the scar, two of them just sitting there absently.
Twin spots of heat that Sora is uncomfortably aware of. “It never hurt or anything?” Sora’s voice is quiet. It feels like it’d be inappropriate to talk in much more than a whisper, though he’s not sure why.
“No,” Riku repeats, drawing in a shaky breath. “I had no idea… I mean, I guess I should have, since all the others have them, but I never…” His fingers move, just barely, against Sora’s skin, like he’s not sure he should press them against the mark, like he’s worried he’ll hurt Sora by doing so.
Sora opens his mouth to tell him it’s okay, that he can trace over the outline or the hues of orange as much as he likes, it’s his body—
Riku’s fingers make contact with the scar.
Sora’s eyes roll and he stutters out a shocked moan, loud and echoing through the bathroom.
Riku snatches his hand away. “Sora!” His voice comes from higher up; he’s standing, hovering over Sora in concern. “Was— are you hurt?”
Sora’s eyes snap open, trying to stop his body from shaking so obviously.
Riku catches his gaze, and something in Sora’s face must give him away; Riku reels back, his eyes wide and face flushing instantly. “Oh! I’m, that’s—” he stutters, eyes darting down Sora’s supine form before returning to his back. He won’t meet Sora’s eyes. “I’ll just... Leave you to it.”
He flees the bathroom quickly.
Sora watches him go, still dazed from the unexpected rush of pleasure he’d felt the second Riku’s fingers had made contact with his back.
He tips his head back to look up at the ceiling, letting out a shuddering sigh. How embarrassing, reacting so strongly from such a simple touch. He’s sure it was mortifying to witness, so he can’t fault Riku for leaving quickly.
Sora shouldn’t be reacting like that from one touch. Certainly not from an innocent touch at the hands of his purely platonic best friend.
Still, it felt electric. It felt right.
Sora wishes Riku would come back, press his whole hand against the mark and make him see stars again.
It’s not going to happen.
Sora’s shoulders slump, and he struggles to sit up, washing the gunk clinging to his skin as quickly and efficiently as he can.
He tries to ignore the way his back tingles despite the brief touch. He desperately ignores the familiar feeling of arousal swooping through his stomach, his dick twitching, threatening to harden. Sora can’t let that happen, he’s embarrassed himself enough already.
Things are getting out of hand.
He and Riku need to talk, because they need to resolve the body switch before Sora ruins their friendship entirely. He’s pretty sure they’re on some knife’s edge already, based on how quickly Riku left. The last thing Sora wants is to make Riku uncomfortable, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that his desire isn’t as hidden as he’d maybe assumed. And, well… Riku keeps running away.
It’s fairly obvious that Riku doesn’t want to be desired. Not by Sora, anyway.
Sora opens the bathroom door that leads into Riku’s room slowly, nervous about confronting his best friend after such an awkward situation. Riku’s not there, though, so Sora hurries through throwing on some clothes— which he knows Riku will be annoyed with, because he chooses his outfits carefully and with intention or something—before running out to find Riku and apologise.
Sora still has a migraine rattling around his skull. It had been much better in Arendelle, but had reared its ugly head on his flight back to the tower, which makes him wonder if it had been the cold weather that soothed it, or whether his nerves on the way home had made it flare back to life.
One thing he does appreciate is Riku’s thoughts being so clear. Memories come back without effort, or constant distractions, and it makes navigating the portals in the tower way easier.
Riku’s little brooding nook in the library is empty, and so is the cosy living room with the fireplace that puffs out purple smoke that smells like peppermints.
He goes back to the library through a secret door in the (also empty) sitting room with ugly puke green walls, but fruitlessly wandering the stacks doesn’t help him find Riku. He’s sure, if Riku doesn’t want to be found, he’ll just move away when he hears Sora coming.
Sora heads past the kitchen, wondering if he should climb up to the roof or if it’ll just make Riku angry with him— if he’s even up there, of course!— when he hears Riku’s name.
He spins towards the kitchen, forgetting for a moment that he looks like Riku.
“Come in,” Kairi calls, waving. “I’m making sandwiches!”
Sora swallows, but sheepishly enters the kitchen. He’s sort of been avoiding Kairi since he and Riku switched. He’s nervous that she’ll see right through him, if he’s honest.
The thing is… the thing is, he doesn’t really understand Riku and Kairi’s friendship. Maybe he is the most unobservant guy alive, but he doesn’t actually know how close they are. The three of them hang out together a lot, and Sora definitely hangs out with both of them individually, but it’s rare for him to even see them together.
He’s always kind of suspected that maybe he never sees them together because they want private time or something.
It’s not like it would be surprising, if they liked each other. Kairi is one of the most incredible people he’s ever met, so beautiful and warm, stronger than anyone might suspect at first, both physically and in spirit. She has the biggest heart of anyone Sora’s ever known, an endless well of kindness and positivity. He knows she’d be very easy to fall in love with; if not for Riku, maybe… maybe Sora would have.
And Riku is… Riku is his best friend. He’s so strong and determined to protect those he cares about, even if it means he ends up hurt. He can come across as aloof, even rude sometimes, even if he’s definitely not as stand-offish as he was when he was fifteen.
Sora knows he’s one of those people who feels the need to push people away. Once you get to know him, Riku is surprisingly soft and sweet, even if he acts reluctant to show his affection.
Sora’s best friends are just so easy to love, he can understand how easy it could be for them to fall for each other.
And yet, sometimes he wonders if they ever really speak.
“Can I help?” Sora asks, crossing his arms uncomfortably.
Kairi’s managed to cover almost the entire kitchen counter with ingredients, but they haven’t been prepped yet. Sora knows that he, thanks to Little Chef, has relatively decent knife skills and can chop everything quite handily… but he’s not Sora right now.
“That’d be great, thanks!” Kairi says, tilting her head at him. “Were you looking for Sora?”
Sora blushes, wondering how she can read him so easily when Riku’s face is so much more inscrutable. He hurries over to grab a knife, deliberately turned away so that she can’t see whatever his expression is doing. “Yeah, I was,” he admits, and can’t help asking. “How’d you know?”
Kairi giggles, light and carefree in a way Sora hasn’t felt in months. “Your hair’s still wet,” she points out.
He turns to face her, surprised.
She’s abandoned the sliced bread she’d been buttering, leaning against the counter to face him. “You’re not as mysterious as you like to think, Riku.” she teases. “Not to me, at least.”
Sora huffs, surprised by the easy way she teases him. Riku. “Oh?” he responds, stepping up beside her to rinse some lettuce at the sink. “Trying to be mysterious? That sounds like there’s something I’m trying to hide.”
Kairi hums, making no effort to return to her task. She seems content to watch Sora curiously. “You’re right,” she muses. “I assume it’s part of being the oldest of us, maybe. It’s hard to allow yourself to lean on me or Sora when we’re a little younger. You’re used to protecting us, so you don’t know how to let us protect you.”
Sora knows she’s super smart and way more observant than he is, so she’s probably right. Still, he knows Riku better than he knows himself, some days, or at least that’s how it feels. That’s why it’s so easy to open his mouth without thinking.
“I let you guys help!” he blurts, then looks away. “Sometimes.”
Kairi crosses her arms, sceptical. “Suuuuure.” She draws out the word, infusing it with more doubt than Riku probably deserves. “Sora said the other day that you have a migraine.”
Sora blinks, confused by her statement at first, because he hasn’t talked to her. Then he realises Riku must have told her, which makes no sense at all. “He told you?” he asks, completely thrown off.
Kairi spins back to face the counter, picking up the butter knife with a casual twirl. “Yeah. In fairness, I did catch him invading your coffee stash, so I figured he had to be up to something.”
That’s just unfair. Sora suppresses a pout, because Kairi and Riku are clearly in cahoots to keep him away from delicious, delicious stimulants. “Yeah,” he says, after a pause that he’s left for too long. “It’s been five days.”
Kairi hisses in sympathy. “You had it in Arendelle?”
Sora’s lips twist to the side reflexively, his nose scrunching. “It was better there, but it’s come back since I got back. The bath helped some…?”
Kairi nods thoughtfully. “I guess cold and heat can both help,” she murmurs, distracted. “And you haven’t tried magic?”
Sora blinks. “Of course not,” he tells her, confused. “It doesn’t work.”
Kairi rolls her eyes at him. “Do you know that for certain, or did you just try it once and give up?”
Sora opens his mouth, but can only gape at her. He doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t know; he’s not Riku. Even so, there’s no way Riku would try to heal himself once, and then decide to endure who knows how many awful, brain-breaking migraines just because he’s too reluctant to ask for help. Surely he’s not that bad at taking care of himself.
Sora winces, because it’s Riku. Sometimes, he really is that bad at taking care of himself.
“Oh my—” Kairi cries, loud and frustrated. “Riku!”
“Why would that make a difference?” Sora asks, though his voice comes out weirdly shrill. Guilty. He wonders if, despite not actually knowing whether Riku had deliberately endured pain instead of telling them, his body knows and is all tense and defensive because of it. Because his entire frame feels wound tight like a cornered animal.
“Because sometimes you can’t Cure certain wounds yourself!” Kairi is angrier than Sora has ever seen her, her hands clenched into tight fists that shake against the countertop. “With some things, you need to ask for help! You’re a Keyblade Master, Riku, you should know this!”
Sora stares at his own hands, still holding the wet lettuce like a complete idiot. He drops it into the sink with a sad splat. “I know that,” he mutters darkly, because he’s sure Riku does, Riku earned his right to call himself a Keyblade Master fair and square.
“So let me help,” Kairi snaps, and casts Curaga before he can say no.
Sora gasps at the familiar sensation of a perfectly cast healing spell, washing over him like he’s dunked himself in a carbonated beverage, an odd sensation like little tiny fizzing bubbles are popping over his skin. He closes his eyes against the ticklish feeling, and takes a deep breath once it fades.
“Better?” Kairi asks, sounding a little abashed.
He opens his eyes, and finds her biting her lip, looking regretful.
Sora blinks, because that horrible ache behind his eyes has disappeared. He no longer has to stop himself from gritting his teeth against the pain; his skull isn’t being battered from the inside like his brain is trying to claw its way outside, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a slowly tightening band wrapped around his skull.
“It…” he says hoarsely, looking at Kairi but not really seeing her. “It worked.”
Kairi’s shoulders had been creeping up like she’s anticipating being yelled at or something, but his words make her relax visibly. “What did I say?” she murmurs, her voice soft. “There’s no shame in asking for help, Riku.”
Sora barely hears her. His blood is boiling in his veins.
“I’m going to find Sora,” he calls over his shoulder, stomping away before she can get a word in.
Stupid Riku. God, all this time! All this time Sora’s been dealing with the pain, and who knows how long it’s been since Riku started getting these migraines? That he wordlessly endured them for so long without asking anyone to try to cure them, when it had been such a quick and easy fix…!
Sora’s going to kill him.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 8: 6.1: Riku (Day Six)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
Riku startles, smacking his head against the hard shelf behind him.
Sora’s voice is loud, angry, and he’s not even bothering to pretend that he’s Riku. This can only mean one thing.
Riku is in trouble.
Notes:
Will these two ever have an actual conversation without being distracted by less important things?
Chapter Text
Riku presses his back against one of the library shelves and brings his palms up to cover his bleary eyes. He’s been forcing himself to try to read, but it’s only an exercise in frustration; Sora’s always had issues paying attention when he’s supposed to read. Riku had assumed it was due to the ADHD, Sora’s body’s desire to constantly move, making sitting to read unpleasant on a good day.
It’s not just that, Riku discovers. Reading itself is near-impossible. The smaller, more cramped together text, like those found in books dense with information, all blur together, his eyes darting across the lines as the letters and words jump around. Larger text with good spacing is manageable, but the words still jumble here and there.
Anything useful for Riku’s predicament? Is small, written in a script that’s already difficult to decipher in his own body, and Sora’s eyes blur and cross just looking at them.
Riku misses his body. He feels awful for thinking it, because it’s not Sora’s fault he’s dealing with things like this, things he can’t help. He presses his palms firmly against his eyes, until he’ll see stars when he next opens them, but something about the pressure is oddly soothing.
“Riku!”
Riku startles, smacking his head against the hard shelf behind him.
Sora’s voice is loud, angry, and he’s not even bothering to pretend that he’s Riku. This can only mean one thing.
Riku is in trouble.
He doesn’t bother to run. If the loud smack of his (Sora’s) hard head against a shelf hadn’t alerted Sora to his location, the handful of books that decide to topple to the floor afterwards certainly do.
Riku swallows as the silhouette of his own body appears in the narrow alcove of his current hiding spot.
It’s not his usual nook, but it’s equally nice, perhaps even more so. It’s harder to find, with a small opening that requires ducking into a gap between some shelves and then crawling into a gap between shelves. Despite the small entrance, it’s quite roomy compared to the small space he usually uses.
Sora pauses for a second after he’s shimmied through, eyes glittering under the sparkling fairy lights strung between the stacks and along the pastel sheets stretched between the tall shelves like the swooping ceiling of a tent.
“Oh,” Sora breathes, looking around the new space with open wonder.
It’s set up as some kind of living room, with a huge screen built into one of the shelves, the surrounding bookcase dedicated to films and tv shows instead of books. The floor is covered in plush blankets, cushions of all shapes, sizes and textures, bean bags, and an assortment of delightfully soft armchairs to the side of a large sofa.
Sora’s eyes drift from the huge screen to the sofa directly across, distracted by the idea of sprawling there with a mountain of snacks and watching movies.
Riku begins to relax, thankful that even in his body, it seems Sora’s anger can be easily diverted by a suitable novelty.
“You!”
Riku flinches, huddling further into his corner. Maybe he was too quick to let his guard down.
Sora manages to crawl menacingly towards him, which would probably be impossible to do in his own body. His eyes have lost that innocent spark of wonder at the cute alcove; instead they’re narrow and intense, focused on Riku’s face like he’ll manage to disappear if Sora even blinks.
“Uh, hi.” Riku’s voice is pathetic, roughened from holing up in the library for basically the whole day, trying to avoid Sora because…
His thoughts jump to the sound Sora had made yesterday, when Riku touched his back, touched the Dream Eater sigil-scar, and his ears start burning. He hates that his body reacts like this, so quick to compare the pained groan Sora had let out with the one from his dreams.
It’s not Sora’s fault he can’t stop dwelling on absurd fantasies. It’s not Sora’s fault his body reacts so enthusiastically, so quickly, when it’s Riku just can’t stop thinking. He’s supposed to have more self-control than this.
Sora’s scowl is deep, much more fitting on Riku’s face than Sora’s usual cheery smile, but it still fills Riku with dread.
He’d expected Sora to be freaked out about the situation in the bathroom, but he hadn’t expected him to be angry.
“I can’t believe you!” Sora snaps, rising onto his knees, which allows him to loom over Riku.
Riku should probably be intimidated, but instead he finds his eyes darting to Sora’s arms and tracing over his biceps. What is wrong with him?
“—told me that wouldn’t work, yet when Kairi tried, it completely disappeared!”
“Huh?” Riku says stupidly, because his eyes are still locked on to the way Sora’s hands are crumpled into fists, and how it makes a vein stand out prominently all the way along his forearm. He doesn’t know why he’s so fascinated by it, but he supposes he’s never noticed that his veins stick out like that. Is that even normal?
Sora’s don’t do that. He knows, because he’s spent a lot of time looking; much more time than he’d ever wish to admit.
Riku finally drags his eyes away from Sora’s arms, and then gets distracted by the bright orange shirt Sora’s wearing (where did he even get that?)
“Your migraines!” Sora bellows, shoving at Riku’s shoulder in a way that would be completely ineffectual if they were in their proper bodies. “You said Curaga wouldn’t work, but Kairi tried yesterday and it did!”
Riku’s stomach turns, both at Sora’s words and the sinking realisation that Sora is crying.
Sora’s cheeks are wet, his chin wobbling as he tries to hold back sobs. It looks utterly bizarre on Riku’s face. Which makes sense since Riku can’t remember the last time he cried.
Except that Sora, and therefore Sora’s body, are empathetic criers. Mortified, Riku feels his own eyes well up with tears, and he blinks rapidly against the hot, itchy feeling.
“Sora,” he says helplessly, pulling him close and burying Sora’s head into his shoulder. It doesn’t stop his own cheeks growing wet and hot, but it feels both familiar and strangely new; this body is smaller than his own, to the point where it’s like Sora is encompassing him instead of the other way around. Something about the way his body— his real body, the one Sora is currently inhabiting— presses him into the stacks…
He should feel uncomfortable, bullied into the hard shelf like this, a larger body crumpled against him. Instead, he feels safe, sheltered, protected from everything that could do him harm.
Riku realises, for the first time since this all started, that this is Sora’s reaction, Sora’s body feeling so safe when practically smothered by the bulk of Riku’s.
He tries to file that away for later, and it scatters the same way anything worth remembering does when Sora’s brain whisks it away.
“Shhh,” he tries, voice cracking over the words as he buries his fingers in Sora’s hair. His own hair is like slippery silk beneath his hands, which he finds off-putting compared to the almost coarse, thick strands he’s used to soothing when Sora cries on him. “I’m so sorry. Tell me what’s wrong?”
Sora gasps and shudders into his shoulder, shaking like a leaf. “I just want to help you,” he cries, hands balling in Riku’s shirt hard enough he might actually rip it. “I want you to stop bottling things up, letting yourself hurt, when you don’t have to suffer!”
Riku swallows hard, his throat aching as he tries to choke down his own tears. “You’re right,” he says slowly, closing his eyes in a last ditch effort to stifle them. “It’s… it’s hard for me to admit when I’m in pain. I’m… I guess I’m still clinging to the Riku who I pretended to be, all those years ago.”
Sora sniffles. “You don’t have to act strong and cool in front of me,” he grunts, butting his forehead against Riku’s shoulder like he’s a kid again, throwing a tantrum. “I want to help. I want you to trust me with this.”
Riku sighs, ruffling over the fine hair pooling across Sora’s shoulder. “It’s still difficult for me to make myself vulnerable,” he admits, hooking an arm around Sora’s waist— or trying to, as despite how narrow it is, Sora’s arms are short and can’t wrap all the way around— and trying to nudge him impossibly closer. “I understand why you’re upset, though. I… I should have told you I hadn’t exhausted all options, instead of assuming I couldn’t be fixed.”
Sora nods against his shoulder, relaxing minutely. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “I guess I can’t be that mad, since you didn’t know someone else casting would be any different from you doing it yourself.”
Riku feels his body relax, too, muscles he hadn’t known had been locked tight unwinding like Sora had come along with a master key. Weird.
“Truce?” Riku murmurs, gently squeezing Sora’s waist.
Sora butts his head against Riku’s shoulder again. “Yeah, I guess.”
Riku bites his lip against the smile that threatens to overtake his face. He feels far too thrilled that Sora isn’t angry with him anymore. He shouldn’t feel so elated, but he just can’t help it. It’s difficult to admit to himself, had taken years for him to allow himself to think it, but… Sora is his most important person. Sora is the reason Riku has made it as far as he has. Without Sora’s friendship, his (strictly platonic) devotion, his unwavering determination to save Riku from the darkness… to keep being friends despite Riku’s betrayal…
Yeah. Riku knows Sora is the only reason he’s come so far.
If only Sora also felt—
“What are you even doing in here, anyway?” Sora asks, pulling away to look at the toppled stacks of books Riku has been trying to read through with little success.
Riku winces. “I… I was trying to see if I could research. Find anything that might help us, er, swap back.”
Sora’s brows lower thoughtfully, creasing in the middle, and his mouth pinches shut tight.
“What?” Riku asks, unsure what his expression means.
Sora sits back on his heels, tilting his head as he watches Riku keenly. “You’re in my body,” he points out, as though Riku may have forgotten.
“I… know…?” Riku replies, blinking at him. “That’s why I have all these books, Sora.”
Sora actually rolls his eyes. “Yes, but you can’t read them!”
Riku winces, glaring down at his knees. “I… I was doing my best.” It’s not Sora’s fault he has dyslexia. Riku can’t be upset that his research is being hampered by something Sora has no control over.
“I have no doubt about that.” Sora’s voice is soft and encouraging. “Do you know how I manage to read stuff like this?” He holds up a book with tiny, cramped writing, which bleeds together into a mess of blurry ink.
Riku opens his mouth, and then pauses.
He doesn’t know. He assumes, like he’s been trying to do, that Sora just doggedly reads the cramped passages over and over until they finally stick.
“Is… there a trick to it?” He asks, unsure.
Sora leafs through the pages slowly, his gaze intent on the pages. It must be so strange, to see them with such clarity for the first time ever.
“A few,” Sora answers, distracted by the text in his hands. “Using your finger to read along can help in a pinch, but a ruler or something is probably better.” He gestures to the room. “Bright light is way better, even if it’s not as cosy as this room. Reading aloud helps me sometimes, though obviously I couldn’t do that in class. Plenty of breaks—trying to force it isn’t going to get you anywhere, Riku. You’ve been holed up in here all day… I’m guessing you’ve just been frustrating yourself trying to read through all of this.”
Riku looks away, feeling abashed. Sora’s right, he has been sitting here, trying to force himself to process all of the books despite knowing that Sora struggles to read.
“Come on.” Sora tosses the book aside to land on a pile of similarly thick tomes, and pulls himself to his feet. “Fresh air helps. Let’s do a few laps of the tower.”
Riku snorts, but follows suit, wincing when he feels the dull ache in his legs from sitting too long. Sora’s right. He needs a break. And a change of scenery.
The grounds of the Mysterious Tower are just as puzzling as the structure itself, at times. The Tower has been built atop what appears to be a floating land mass, which Riku only knows because of the Gummi Ship’s ability to fly. The structure itself is surrounded on all sides by impenetrable forest, deep and dark and perpetually foggy… except when it’s not.
Riku knows there’s something magical, perhaps even sentient, about the land where the Tower was built.
Today, the environment seems friendlier. The trees are thinner and more accommodating to a leisurely walk, and the afternoon sun softens everything, bathing the land in shades of pink and orange. The light reaches the forest floor and makes the leaf litter scattered across the floor glow molten gold, highlighting patches of brown mushrooms and contrasting against the lush flowers that peek through the underbrush.
The later afternoon air is cool and refreshing against Riku’s face, and carries the clean scent of pine, the earthy smell of moist dirt, and something reminiscent of honey.
As the sun descends below the floating island, the sounds of birdsong increase: one last symphony before nightfall. To add to the magical composition, fireflies begin to glow, flickering and hovering lazily in the calm air like an unchoreographed but still spectacular dance.
It’s ridiculously beautiful.
If Riku didn’t know better, he’d call it romantic.
Without thought, his arms rise, hands settling to rest on the back of his head with his elbows pointed out at his sides. It’s a pose he notices Sora seems to settle into whenever he’s relaxed, and he finds himself adopting it easily as they wanted through the flat path that has appeared between the trees.
Riku notices that he feels properly relaxed for the first time since this all began, and winces internally. Stress isn’t good for the body, and he’s been stressed for five full days, keeping Sora’s body rigid and out of sorts. He glances at Sora guiltily.
Sora wanders along beside him, the lines of his (Riku’s) body relaxed, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders loose. His face, too, is blank. It’s a neutral expression, entirely inscrutable, to someone who doesn’t know Riku.
Riku had been relatively certain he was good at pretending to be relaxed when he wasn’t, but he sees now that he has a subtle tell, one that Sora knows well from the reflexive way his body’s eyes flicker to the hinge of Sora’s jaw. Even though Riku hadn’t thought to look.
The hard line of Sora’s jaw is tense, the masseter muscle flexing as he grinds his teeth.
Riku kicks himself, berating himself internally for not seeing sooner that Sora is just as, if not more, bothered by the situation.
They have to resolve this. It must be uncomfortable for Sora, inhabiting the body of Riku… inhabiting the body of someone who…
Riku clears his throat nervously. “Hey, Sora?”
Sora looks at him, eyebrows raised. His eyes catch the gold rays of the sun as they flick attentively in Riku’s direction.
Riku feels his heart kick up a gear, unused to having Sora’s full, undivided attention on him.
“Yeah?” Sora’s head tilts to the side.
Something stirs in Riku’s chest at that, because that’s such a Sora thing to do. It looks odd on Riku’s body, but it’s still endearing. “I was thinking we should have a movie night tonight,” Riku says, keeping his tone light. “It’s been a while since we got to do something fun, right?”
Sora beams.
His wide, unrestrained smile looks almost unhinged on Riku’s face; it doesn’t suit him at all.
“That’s a great idea!” Sora enthuses, almost vibrating with eagerness.
Riku lets out a relieved breath, allowing Sora’s voice to wash over him as he rambles on about snacks they should make, and movies they should watch as they wander along the sun-warmed forest path around the Tower.
It’s a good idea, Riku tells himself, now that he sees how excited and animated Sora is at the idea of spending time with him. With Riku.
Maybe things aren’t completely beyond repair.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 9: 7.1: Sora (Day Seven)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
Riku glances back at him, eyebrows disappearing into chaotic brown bangs. “It’s not the end of the world if she knows, Sora.”
Sora ventures into the pantry after him, his heart pounding. “It’s… it’s not?” he asks tentatively. He knows he spilled the beans to Elsa without hesitating, but Elsa doesn’t know Riku. Kairi is their friend, and has been for as long as Sora can really remember. It’s… it’s different, when it’s someone they both know so well. Someone who might start getting ideas.
Notes:
I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter. Writing's been a bit slow lately, I have COVID so motivating myself to write when I've got a foggy brain and constant headache isn't going too well ;-;
Chapter Text
Sora falls to the floor amongst an avalanche of brightly coloured food packaging, emerging from the pile with wide eyes. The Tower’s pantry is huge, large enough that Sora, Riku, Kairi and Mickey could probably look around for snacks with plenty of room for more of their friends as well… but Sora’s quite sure there hadn’t been this many snacks stuffed into the large storeroom when he’d last browsed it.
He shoves aside the vague notion that the Tower might have some sort of brain, or at least the magical ability to stock itself with food from who knew where, instead rummaging through the enormous pile. He and Riku can eat a fair bit, but they probably don’t need this much stuff.
What to choose, though?
It’s all just so intriguing: candies, chocolates, cookies, potato chips, flavoured popcorn… all manner of types, typical and atypical flavours, all of them interesting enough that Sora’s curious to try them all. He even found a small stack of tubs filled with cotton candy, and they range in flavours, too, from typical grape and blue raspberry to more outlandish, like pickle or spicy jalapeno.
“Having fun?” Riku asks wryly from his seat atop the kitchen counter.
It’s not somewhere he’d usually sit, in his proper body. Sora’s the one who likes to perch in high places, but it’s taken him a few days to realise that despite inhabiting Riku’s body, a lot of his behaviours still seem to exist in spite of Sora’s… consciousness, or mind, or soul, or… whatever they’ve switched.
“There’s so much stuff in here,” Sora enthuses, tossing a tub of cotton candy to Riku.
Riku catches it with barely a fumble, and then makes a uniquely horrified face upon seeing that the cotton candy he’s holding is allegedly mac n cheese flavour.
Sora finds himself laughing so hard he has to brace himself against the kitchen floor, crouched on his elbows and knees amongst a chaotic spread of cursed snacks.
One of the floorboards creaks tellingly.
Sora looks up, almost choking on his laughter.
Kairi’s in the doorway, eyes trailing from Riku where he sits on the counter and then down to Sora. Her lips twitch up. “What are you up to now?” she asks, shaking her head. “Did you upend the entire pantry, Sora?”
Sora’s eyes flick to Riku’s, and he opens his mouth to say something because how did she know they were switched?
Riku looks at Kairi, seemingly unconcerned. “I’m not even near the pantry! How come it’s gotta be my fault?”
Sora holds his breath, not sure whether it would be better or worse for Kairi to know.
He doesn’t know, anymore, why they’re so determined to hide it. He supposes it’d be awkward to explain, after being switched for this long. Maybe Riku’s embarrassed; Sora figures it’d be kind of hard to explain to Kairi that Riku has become…
Sora’s eyes flicker over his own body from across the room, too-thin arms and legs, too-big clothes like he can hide the small frame beneath, wild hair and wilder eyes.
Yuffie appears behind Kairi, curiously surveying the scene. There’s something sly in her expression when her eyes land on Sora.
He feels like a tiny, defenceless animal that has fallen prey to a predator, and yet he has no clue whatsoever what she could be planning, or why she’s looking at— who she believes to be— Riku like that.
A lick of jealousy turns his stomach, but he swallows it down. If… if Yuffie likes Riku, it’s not his business.
“—Not exactly normal for Riku to be almost buried beneath snacks,” Kairi is saying, setting her hands on her hips. “You’ve convinced him to do something silly, I can feel it.”
Sora finds himself laughing again, though it rings false to his ears. He knows Riku will notice, but he dearly hopes the others don’t. “You’re not wrong,” he admits. She’s right, Riku wouldn’t be hunting through the pantry for strange snacks. That’s definitely a Sora thing to do… but Sora’s managed to goad Riku into plenty of things he didn’t seem enthusiastic about.
“Well?” Yuffie’s eyebrows raise, waiting for them to explain. “If you’re up to no good, I want in!”
“We’re having a movie night,” Riku explains, kicking his feet against the cabinets gently. “We found a really cool place in the library with heaps of movies and a huuuuuuge television! Do you want to come?”
Sora is awed again and again by how easily Riku imitates him. If he wasn't Sora, he’d totally be fooled, too. He just knows it.
Kairi bites her lip. “That sounds really nice,” she says, painfully sincere. “I’m… I’m going to Radiant Garden to visit, though. Yuffie asked me to help out with something for the Restoration Committee, so I’m not sure how long I’ll be away.”
“Come on, Kairi,” Yuffie huffs, crossing her arms. “Our business can wait a day, don’t you think?”
Sora picks himself up off the floor, ignoring the handful of snack packets that crunch under his feet. “You’re more than welcome, if you want to join,” he tells them, and then glances at Riku. “Wait, I thought the committee was disbanded, wasn’t everything all fixed up? Is something the matter?”
Kairi’s mouth opens and closes, and her cheeks go pink. “Well, it’s not official business,” she sputters, avoiding Sora’s eyes. “It’s nothing dangerous, I promise! Just, uh… helping with an… u-upcoming event!”
Sora reaches to grab a handful of snacks, not bothering to figure out what they are. “Oh, like a festival?” he asks, ignoring whatever Riku is clearly trying to telegraph to him with his eyebrows. “That sounds cool! Here, take some snacks, I’m sure Yuffie’d like to try some!”
“I’d like to stay, if you’re cool with it,” Yuffie says, staring at Kairi like she’s trying to communicate something with her eyes.
“The more the merrier, right?” Sora adds.
Kairi and Riku stare at him in pointed silence as he tips his armful of brightly-coloured packages into an empty fruit bowl on the counter.
“Um,” Kairi’s face is still red, for some reason. “Thanks? I guess. You’re really sure we’re not, uh, interrupting something?”
Sora passes her the bowl with an encouraging smile. It’s so nice to see Kairi taking the time to befriend Yuffie and some of the other residents of Radiant Garden. He knows they’re acquaintances, but it seems as though they might be spending time together as proper friends, and he thinks that will be good for Kairi.
After spending so much time caught between and chasing after Sora and Riku, she deserves friendships that aren’t so complicated. Like her friendship with Selphie, which used to be so simple, before they began traversing the worlds.
It’s hard to remain friends with someone when you can’t really relate to them anymore.
“There’s baskets in the pantry!” Sora calls, gesturing for the two of them to make their way into the pantry to find some movie night snacks. “There’s so much stuff in here, you have no idea. I saw coffee flavoured doritos!”
Yuffie visibly lights up, bouncing into the pantry with a menacing gleam in her eye. “Ohoho,” she murmurs, grabbing a basket and disappearing between the towering shelves. “I’m going to find the most hideous flavour combo and trick Leon into eating it!”
Kairi hurries after her, eyes wide. “Yuffie!” she cries, following the distinct noise of rummaging. “You can’t poison Leon! No, I'm limiting you to three gross choices. Three! Or I’ll make you try them first!”
Sora tilts his head at the increasingly distant ‘noooooo’ that slips out of the cavernous pantry.
Riku sighs behind him.
Sora turns to face him, surprised that he looks resigned, his head tilted down as he pinches his brow.
“Riku…?” Sora ventures softly, taking a hesitant step towards him. “Are you… um. Did you not want me to invite them?”
Riku looks up so that Sora can see him roll his eyes. “I invited them,” he points out. “Sora, were you even trying to act like me? It couldn’t have been more obvious.”
Sora blinks, before he realises what Riku means. “Oh no!” He cries, mortified. “Oh, I completely forgot. Rikuuuuuuu, what do we do?!”
Riku buries his face in his hands, letting out a strangled wheeze before his muffled laughter begins to spill from between his hands. “That was so weird. There’s no way Kairi doesn’t know, it was like watching Donald speak like Goofy.”
Sora screws his face up, trying to imagine that and failing miserably. Donald and Goofy are certainly unique, very different characters, so trying to switch their voices seems… way too strange for his brain to imagine.
“Yeah, but what do we do?” Sora asks, wringing his hands. “I’m—I’m sorry I gave it away, I should have thought about…”
“It’s fine,” Riku insists, hopping off of the counter. He scoops up an enormous, tipped over wicker basket that’s halfway out of the pantry, handing it to Sora before rummaging for another. Riku pops his own basket against his hip, before venturing into the pantry, neatly dodging the snacks all over the floor. He begins browsing the shelves like he’s not concerned about Kairi at all. “Besides, she’s gone for a few days after tonight, so maybe she’ll get distracted and forget.”
Sora knows that’s unlikely. “And if she doesn’t?”
Riku glances back at him, eyebrows disappearing into chaotic brown bangs. “It’s not the end of the world if she knows, Sora.”
Sora ventures into the pantry after him, his heart pounding. “It’s… it’s not?” he asks tentatively. He knows he spilled the beans to Elsa without hesitating, but Elsa doesn’t know Riku. Kairi is their friend, and has been for as long as Sora can really remember. It’s… it’s different, when it’s someone they both know so well. Someone who might start getting ideas.
Riku doesn’t like to be seen as weak or vulnerable, Sora is very aware of this. Being stuck in Sora’s body— clumsy and scatter-brained and noodle-armed as it is— has to be embarrassing, right? Riku is tall, and super strong, and smart, good at reading and thinking and all the stuff Sora is bad at.
“If she knows what?” Yuffie asks, appearing behind Riku.
Riku yelps, startled, and drops the can of pringles he’d been absently spinning.
Sora bites his tongue to stifle the reflexive sound that wants to come out, amused by the sound he’s just heard Riku make, and glances down curiously at the abandoned chips.
Sour blueberry flavour? Gross!
“It’s nothing,” Riku mutters, cheeks glowing pink under the harsh pantry lights. “Just, uh, something that came up during my last mission, y’know?”
“If you say so,” Yuffie sings, unconvinced. She whirls out of view.
Kairi pops her head around the same shelf Yuffie just disappeared behind. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that mess out there,” she informs them, glaring at Sora. “You’ll be cleaning it up before we watch any movies tonight, am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Riku says without hesitation.
Kairi nods, satisfied. “Where did Yuffie go?” she murmurs to herself, before turning back towards the depths of the pantry. “She’s plotting something, I just know it.”
Sora watches her wander off, muttering to herself.
“I’ll clean up,” Riku tells Sora with a shrug. “You’re in charge of snacks, but don’t go too crazy, okay? You know I don’t like to eat too many sweets.”
Sora’s lips curl up at Riku’s careful wording. Riku claims to not enjoy sweet things— one part of his cocky, too-cool and more-mature-than-Sora act he’d been trying to pull before they left Destiny Islands for the first time— but Sora knows him better than that. Acknowledging his disdain for candy (something he finds childish) while not completely denying himself because he thinks he should act more mature… It might not seem like much, but for Riku, it’s incredible progress.
Sora’s heart feels light and full as he wanders around, picking up and dithering over snacks, before his friends finally decide they’ve had enough and should move to the library.
Kairi and Yuffie are in good spirits, whispering and giggling between themselves as they lead the way to the library.
Riku is quiet, his hands shoved into his pockets as he frowns after them like he thinks they’re plotting something.
Sora nudges him with an elbow, raising his eyebrows high when Riku’s eyes snap to his face.
He knows Riku said he doesn’t mind if people know about their weird body switching situation, but it still feels weird not to put on the act when others are around. Riku’s posture isn’t very Sora-like. At least, Sora doesn’t think so.
Riku’s lips curl into a smile and he rolls his eyes before he looks away; another behaviour that’s just so Riku that Sora’s heart flutters in his chest.
Sora knows it’s an odd feeling to have, the heart-fluttering, but he just loves his friends so much. He loves when they’re happy, it’s all he really needs for his own happiness.
He feels like he floats through the next hour, content to sit back and let the others argue over which movies to watch and in which order, as well as seating arrangements. Unsurprisingly, Kairi and Yuffie end up sitting on the comfortable couch with the better view of the screen, leaving Sora and Riku to share the loveseat against the wall. Sora doesn’t mind; it’s delightfully plush even if it’s a little small, Riku’s arm brushing his as he paws through their basket of snacks to see what Sora’s selected.
Between the two seats, there are two fridges filled with refreshments, and Sora decides to grab some for him and Riku to drink.
Yuffie’s distracted putting a movie in, but Kairi’s at one of the fridges, head tilted as she examines the unfamiliar bottles.
“See anything good?” Sora asks, glancing at her as he opens the second fridge and takes two bottles at random. They have palm trees on them, so they’re some kind of tropical flavour if he’s lucky.
“Nothing I really recognise,” Kairi admits, but grabs two plastic bottles, playfully clinking them against the glass of Sora’s own. “These ones have aloe in them, so make sure if you try them you don’t choke, okay?”
Sora scrunches his nose up. “They’re chunky? No thanks.”
Kairi shrugs. “I like them,” she says, tipping the bottles back and forth like she’s allowing the aloe chunks to swirl into the entire drink rather than settling at the bottom. Gross!
“Alright!” Yuffie crows, her voice almost drowned out by the horrifying shriek that rattles through the hidden speakers at each corner of the room.
Sora freezes, his grip on the condensation-damp bottles going painfully tight.
Maybe he should have paid attention when everyone was picking out the movies, because, well. He’s never been a fan of scary movies. In fact, he doesn’t know that he’s ever managed to sit through one all the way to the end… or at least not without covering his face for half of the scares.
“Riku, c’mere,” Riku calls. “Help me move the couch!”
Sora winces at the thready whine in his voice, but hurries to help him. They both know Riku could move it all by himself, even in Sora’s body, but Sora still appreciates the distraction.
Riku’s smart, so he’s already figured out how to fix the awkward seating arrangement. Technically they could sprawl on the floor on some beanbags or cushions, but the TV’s height would mean craning their necks to see the screen. The small couch is against the wall, but Riku pulls out the end furthest from the television, so instead of looking sideways to see the screen, they can see it almost front-on.
Even so, he pushes Sora down onto the seat to arrange him how he likes, and Sora ends up with his back wedged against the armrest, one leg pulled up onto the couch and the other sprawled half across the seat with his foot still on the floor.
“Comfortable?” Yuffie snickers as she passes by.
Sora flushes, aware that he probably looks dumbstruck, frozen on the couch and still holding his and Riku’s drinks. His face burns all the more when Riku climbs onto the couch, sitting himself between the vee of Sora’s legs as though that’s a totally normal thing that they do all the time.
“Laugh all you want,” Riku says airily, still doing that eerie impression of Sora that is almost too accurate. “I’m man enough to admit spooky movies scare me, so I’m taking precautions.” He grabs for the basket of snacks abandoned at the far edge of the couch and pulls them into his lap.
“Precautions?!” Yuffie squawks, throwing herself across the couch dramatically. “How are you taking precautions by sprawling in Riku’s lap?”
Sora’s cheeks burn again.
Riku doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. “Protection,” he says seriously, passing a packet of sweet’n’salty popcorn to Sora over his shoulder. “Riku shields me from all danger. And, if the monster is too scary, I can trip him and leave him to be eaten instead.”
“Hey!” Sora protests, offended not because Riku is leaving him for dead in this scenario, but because he would never leave Riku behind.
Yuffie laughs uproariously, to the point that she falls off the couch with a muffled thud when Kairi tries to move her legs aside to sit as well. It takes a while for Kairi to calm everyone down enough to start the movie, and from there everything is quiet.
The movie’s menu had featured a horrible ventriloquist-style doll, complete with gaping mouth, but the movie thankfully feels more goofy than anything. Sora relaxes into the couch, eating his popcorn and sipping at his— surprisingly tasty— soda. Despite the movie not being scary, Riku doesn’t move, seemingly content to keep his back pressed all the way down Sora’s front, his body lax and warm and his hair tickling against Sora’s collarbone.
“Oh my stars,” Kairi complains from the other couch. “Why would you go down into the creepy murder basement!?”
Sora opens his mouth to protest.
Except Riku beats him to it. “You wouldn't go down there?” he asks, all faux-innocence.
Riku wouldn’t ask a question like that, it’s definitely part of his infuriatingly accurate Sora impression. Sora retaliates by pinching the dip of his waist. It’s one of his most sensitive spots, so giving up such information is dangerous— but thankfully, Riku is in Sora’s body right now, and Sora’s willing to fight dirty.
Riku jolts where he sits, and he’d probably yelp if he hadn’t already taken a large sip of his drink.
Sora’s quick, strong grip on either side of his waist is all that keeps him from launching himself off the seat entirely. Even though Sora’s got a drink in his hand, his hands are big enough that he can hold a bottle and still hold Riku in place.
Sora tries not to think about how big Riku’s hands are compared to his small— has it always been so small?— waist.
“Absolutely not!” Kairi yelps, throwing a cushion towards the screen. “No electricity, no flashlight, and those horrible creaky wood stairs? He’s going to break his leg for sure!”
Sora glances over to them, surprised. “Oh, I thought the evil doll was the threat,” he wonders, draining his soda and pressing the cold, empty glass against Riku’s neck. “We’re more worried about poorly maintained houses?”
Yuffie snorts. “I’m not scared of the doll,” she boasts. “It’s at perfect kicking height.” She bounces to her feet to mime how she’d kick the doll, complete with sound effects.
Riku rolls out of Sora’s grip, ending up half-crouched by their couch. He takes Riku’s empty bottle, placing it and his own on top of the fridge before grabbing out more. “Yuffie? Kairi? You want another drink?”
Sora finds himself drifting pleasantly through the next couple of movies, chiming in when his friends decide to air their heated opinions about horror movie characters and their poor decisions. As the night goes on, he feels like he’s sinking further into the couch, more relaxed than he’s been in months, so content to be so close to Riku without it feeling so awkward.
Three or four films in— Sora’s losing count— Riku has relaxed against Sora, too, waving his bottle as he argues with Yuffie.
“The problem is,” he says carefully, in a much less Sora-like tone. “The problem is that we have an unfair ad… an unfair. We know more than they do!”
“Explain,” Yuffie says, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping her chin up imperiously. It might have been more intimidating if she weren’t sprawled out on a beanbag on the floor. She’s also tiny, like Jiminy Cricket tiny.
Sora giggles to himself at the thought, burying it in Riku’s hair and then getting distracted because, well. His hair is usually kinda dry and coarse, Riku must have used one of his nice shampoos because it’s so soft. And it smells so good.
“People in horror movies don’t know they’re in horror movies!” Riku cries, like he’s just solved the world’s most important riddle. “We know doors opening by themselves and other creepiness is probably a ghost or whatever, but they don’t know that!”
“That’s so stupid,” Yuffie counters, pointing her empty bottle at him menacingly.
Riku sputters. “How!?”
“It just is!”
Sora tunes them out, his attention caught by the smooth skin at the nape of Riku’s neck. It’s not actually Riku’s neck, but he finds himself fascinated anyway, how the blue light from the television glances over it as Riku has turned to argue with Yuffie, swaying a little where he sits.
Sora wraps his arms around Riku’s waist to make sure he doesn’t fall. He misses the first time. Riku’s so very close, but he’s wobbling around like they’re on a ship, like they’re visiting Port Royal and helping out Captain Spack Jarrow… Captain… Shack. Captain Jack Sparrow.
Ugh. Weird.
Sora lies back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as it spins slowly. Moving like that while holding Riku means Riku ends up lying down, too, sprawled over him, but despite his yelp of protest, he doesn’t seem to mind.
In fact, Sora blinks back into focus (did he fall asleep?) to find Riku has flipped over so that he’s lying on top of him, his face buried in Sora’s neck comfortably.
Sora can hear Yuffie snoring on the ground, and Kairi’s faint, even breathing somewhere further away. He can barely see the screen over Riku’s tangle of hair, the dvd screensaver bouncing across the screen serenely, almost but never quite hitting the corners.
“You ‘wake?” Riku murmurs, his breath fanning hot over Sora’s collarbone.
Sora swallows, licking his lips reflexively. His lips are still sticky sweet from all of the drinks he’s had, but he doesn’t feel nauseous. He feels warm and a little light-headed but in a good way. Sora even realises dimly that he feels turned on, half-hard in his pants but not urgently. Everything feels fuzzy and soft, comfortable and safe.
“Yeah,” he breathes, his hands finding Riku’s hips and holding on. “I’m awake.”
Riku pushes away from Sora, propping himself up on his elbows. The movement causes him to slip between Sora’s splayed legs, his thigh sliding delectably against Sora’s cock. Riku’s eyes are dark as they dart between Sora’s, their faces bare inches apart.
“You’re,” Riku says, whisper soft. There’s no way he doesn’t know, can’t feel how Sora’s reacting to the warm weight pressed against him, to Riku’s breath brushing over his skin and making him shudder. “You’re so…”
Sora doesn’t know what he is, just tips his head up to meet Riku as he leans down.
Riku smells like coconut and tropical fruits, the drinks they’ve been drinking in excess— why… how did they drink so many, and so fast?— and he’s so, so warm everywhere he presses against Sora.
Sora’s eyes slide closed as their mouths meet, softly at first but quick to deepen. Riku tastes like sugary soda, too, his mouth one of the best things Sora has ever experienced. His lips are soft, but he kisses like he’s trying to prove something, licking into Sora’s mouth without hesitation. It’s almost like he’s trying to climb back into his body by kissing Sora as deeply as he can, only whenever Sora thinks he might pull back in disappointment, he only breathes harshly before diving back in for more.
“Wanted to,” he murmurs, teeth scraping over Sora’s mouth.
Pleasure-pain darts from Sora’s lips straight to his cock, and his hips jolt up against Riku’s thigh.
“S-sorry,” he tries, overwhelmed and dizzy and terrified that Riku might stop.
“It’s okay.” Riku soothes the sore spot with his tongue, before leaning down to bite at the hinge of Sora’s jaw. “Alcohol always makes me horny.”
“Huh?” Sora blinks up at the ceiling, more confused than ever. Alcohol? Horny?
“Mm,” Riku bites at Sora’s earlobe. “Don’t ever drink much… b’cause I only ever want you.”
Sora’s heart kicks up a gear, pounding against his chest. “Y’want… me?” He turns his head to the side, kissing Riku with a desperation that he feels returned twofold. Fuck. Fuck.
Riku wants him? Surely this is a dream. Surely Sora will wake up soon, tucked into his bed and feeling sick from all the snacks he’s eaten over the course of the night.
“Feel so good,” Riku breathes, drawing Sora into another mindblowing kiss.
It’s not a dream, it can’t be. It feels so real, so amazing, it’s everything Sora’s ever wanted and more.
“I love you,” he confesses against Riku’s lips, overwhelmed by the raw emotion he can feel in every desperate, haphazard kiss.
Sora’s arms wrap around Riku’s waist and he holds on tight, determined to never let him go.
He’s as light as air, almost worried that he and Riku will float away from the sheer joy of finally, finally coming together.
It’s connection unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s almost perfect, good enough that he could almost die happy on the spot.
It’s amazing.
It’s so amazing.
Sora tilts his head back and to the side, allowing Riku to deepen the kiss. Surrendering himself to Riku’s every whim, because even if this is nothing, even if it means nothing, Sora can’t deny himself any longer.
He slides his hands up, one tangling in Riku’s shirt above his shoulder, the other scrabbling at Riku’s neck, still terrified that he might pull away.
Riku sighs into his mouth, a sound of relief, one of his hands bracketing Sora’s jaw and pressing into his lower lip to encourage him to open his mouth.
Sora gasps, and Riku’s tongue slides into his mouth again, and everything is hot, wet, so good.
Riku hums against his mouth, licking at Sora’s tongue, across his teeth, like he’s chasing every trace of sweetness out of his mouth. His hips shift and press against Sora’s, rocking in a gentle rhythm that has Sora seeing stars behind his eyelids.
Sora’s heart is so full, he thinks it could burst. He’s never had this kind of luck before.
It’s perfect.
Riku’s perfect.
Sora has never been happier.
He decides, without any hesitation, that this is the closest he’s ever felt to sheer bliss.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Chapter 10: 8.1: Riku (Day Eight)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Notes:
NOTE: Some content warnings for this chapter!!
This chapter features vomiting, as well as discussions of purging, very lightly implied past disordered eating. A large part of the Quadratum stuff deals with a relationship that could be considered dubious consent. There are also references to child neglect, past suicidal ideation, past self-harm, and mention of a character who committed suicide.If any of these topics are too much, please avoid reading this chapter. There is context in the End Notes if you wish to see more information.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Riku wakes up slowly, like his body is trying to spare him from the inevitability of pain. His head is pounding, throbbing in a way he hasn’t felt since before he swapped bodies with Sora.
The thought alone jolts him back to consciousness, and his eyes snap open.
He immediately squeezes them shut, the bright lights in the alcove burning his gritty eyes.
When he finally braves opening them again, opening one eye reluctantly, Kairi is hovering over him, looking far too smug about something.
“Morning sleepy head!” Her voice is cheerful enough that he cringes, immediately on edge due to her mood and the way her voice hurts his ringing ears even though she’s not speaking that loud. “You look… comfortable.”
Riku stares at her for a few moments, his throbbing brain trying to connect the dots between her words— plain— and the clear hidden meaning she’s trying to imply.
It takes a long moment of watching her in confusion before he realises she’s not moving. The gentle sway of her face isn’t her, it’s him. Because his face is… because his face is pressed into the plush give of a chest, moving up and down with the rhythm of breathing.
Riku doesn’t need to turn his head to know.
He’s fallen asleep on Sora, his cheek pressed against one of his pecs—alarmingly comfortable, which he doesn’t want to acknowledge because it’s his body, it’s his chest, why is it so soft and warm?— so despite the aching pound of his head and the growing roil of nausea, he finds himself reluctant to move. Sora’s just so cosy, they fit together so well, like puzzle pieces.
“I’m assuming you don’t remember much of last night,” Kairi says, tapping her lip with one finger as her eyes drift up towards the ceiling. “You and Sora drank a lot.”
Riku freezes, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to form words.
Kairi’s smile grows as her eyes meet his again. “Oh, I already knew,” she reveals. “You do a pretty good Sora impression, but Sora kind of gave it away when he was telling me about Quadratum.”
Riku slides off of Sora as delicately as he can, watching his face the whole time. It’s still weird, to look up and see his own face, but as the days pass he finds himself associating his features more and more with Sora. It’s just more proof that they need to fix this situation as quickly as they can.
Sora doesn’t move, still fast asleep despite the uncomfortable position he’s in, splayed across the too-small couch. Riku’s eyes are drawn to the delicate parting of his lips, and he’s discomfited by how difficult it is to look away. It’s enough that he’s looking at his best friend like that, but when it’s his own face it’s even more strange and pathetic.
Riku turns away from Sora, sitting next to Kairi with his back to the couch. “He told you about it?” His voice rings hollow, full of disappointment he can’t mask.
Kairi’s smile drops, concern taking over her expression. She glances at Sora before turning to Riku, shuffling closer so that she can sit beside him. “You haven’t talked about it.”
It’s not a question. She knows them too well, she’s probably noticed the undercurrent of awkwardness between them ever since they got back, a wall of unspoken things creating an impenetrable barrier in what was once a relationship that couldn’t be broken. Or so they’d thought.
“He said he needs time,” Riku tells her, chewing his lip anxiously. “I’m trying to give him time, but… the longer it goes on, the harder it’ll be to talk about it, right?”
“Probably,” Kairi agrees, watching him carefully. “It’s not the first time his memories have been modified, but… knowing that he can be made to forget you so easily, it’s probably really shaken him to the core, you know?”
Riku shrugs. “Yeah, that’s part of it, I’m sure.” He forces himself to stop biting his lip, instead messing with a stray thread coming loose at the knee of his sleep shorts. They’re too big, like almost everything Sora wears. Loose and comfortable, but large enough that Riku forgets how small he is, sometimes. “He’s had more than enough people messing with his head, that’s true. Making him… making him love someone he didn’t, that’s a whole extra layer of creepy. So I understand why he’s struggling.”
Kairi is silent for a long time.
Riku stares across the room, over scattered cushions and bottles and what appears to be the shirt Sora had been wearing last night. What had they been doing that he’d decided to take it off, anyway? He wonders just how awful it would have felt to have your feelings twisted into something else, your desires fixed onto a stranger instead of the person you’d loved for… well, who knew how long.
Riku’s not sure whether it had been Sora’s feelings for Kairi anymore, and is trying not to think of who else Sora could have loved so deeply. Those feelings had been genuine, he’s sure. They’d been pure, and good… until someone decided to play games.
“He only told me about the memories.” Kairi hesitates for a moment before reaching out for Riku’s hand. “Riku, what happened?”
Riku opens his mouth, but the words dry up in his throat. He swallows. “I think I’m gonna throw up,” he sputters, throwing himself to his feet and heading for the bathroom as quickly as his shaking legs can carry him.
When he finally manages to return to the room, Yuffie’s there, regaling Sora with all the most entertaining moments of the previous night.
“—Karaoke, but then you started crying because you missed Riku’s face, which is how we figured out you were swapped!”
“I knew already,” Kairi points out, and smiles when she sees Riku come back in. “But the way you were crying felt really uncharacteristic, so it was still super weird to see Riku’s face like that.”
Riku feels like the face Sora is making now would be a dead giveaway if no one had known already. He’s gaping like a fish, his face bright red and posture stiff, one arm tucked behind his head in embarrassed bewilderment.
“And then Riku was holding your face all ‘I’m still here, Sora, I promise,’” Yuffie sings, putting on a high-pitched voice that doesn’t suit Sora or Riku in the slightest. “‘We’ll fix this and then you can look at me as much as you like!’”
Riku feels his own face heat at her words. Surely he hadn’t said anything that transparent, that revealing, even while drunk.
Sora looks up and sees him hovering in the doorway.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity.
“Well!” Kairi says, overly cheery, grabbing Yuffie’s arm and hauling her towards the door. “We’re going to Radiant Garden, we’ll see you both in a few days, not sure when we’ll be back!”
“Wait, what about—?” Yuffie tries, pouting as Kairi drags her past Riku where he’s still hovering in the doorway.
Kairi pushes her out of the room, before turning to Riku. “You have to talk about things,” she tells him, clearly frustrated. “And have you even tried using the Dream Eater link?”
Riku stares at her, perplexed. He’s barely thought about the link since they switched, not since seeing the scar on his back that he didn’t even know was there. What would that have to do with…
Oh.
Of course. It’s all so simple, he can’t believe he didn’t think of it before.
Kairi sighs. “I can’t believe you’ve both survived so long,” she gripes, before grabbing Yuffie’s hand and practically fleeing the library.
“The snacks!” Yuffie protests mournfully, her voice fading as she’s dragged away. “I wanted to trick Leooooonnnnnnn…!”
Riku turns to listen to them leave, keeping his back to Sora for a long moment like he can avoid what’s coming. He doesn’t really want to be left alone with Sora; the crushing weight of unspoken things is becoming suffocating, but he’s so scared of losing what little they have left.
It’s not fair.
Neither of them caused this, but it’s just there, a festering mess of confused feelings that are so tangled now that Riku doesn’t know where to start.
He turns to Sora, frowning hard. “Are you nauseous?” It feels so lame, but he’s always been pragmatic, and he needs to start with this.
Sora’s mouth opens and closes for a moment; he clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “I… yes? Really nauseous, actually.”
Riku nods. “Come on, I’ll help you to the bathroom.” He ignores Sora’s protests, because he might still be unsteady on his feet, but Sora was sucking down those sweet alcoholic drinks like they were water last night. He’ll be lucky if he can stand by himself.
Sora realises this halfway to his feet, his already pale face going white as a sheet and his eyes rolling a little as a wave of dizziness consumes him.
Riku manages to catch him before his legs give out. He knows his body, he knows how it works, what it can tolerate, and what it can’t.
“I swear I didn’t know,” Sora mutters as Riku hauls him to the bathroom. “I thought they were just… just juice or fruit punch, I don’t know? Soda? How come I didn’t notice…?”
“I’m more used to drinking than you are,” Riku says, avoiding his curious gaze. “You probably couldn’t taste the alcohol.”
“How?!” Sora cries, swaying closer like proximity will loosen Riku’s lips. “It tastes like burning!”
Riku shrugs, which is easier when he isn’t holding someone almost twice his size. As it turns out. “It does,” he agrees, pushing open the bathroom door with one hand and setting Sora down to lean against the counter. “If you drink enough, you start to get used to it. To the point that you might not notice anymore.”
Sora winces. “I’d have to drink so much for that to happen. It tastes awful.”
Riku is quietly glad that Sora doesn’t make the connection between Riku’s tolerance and how long it might have taken for him to build that up. It wasn’t like they had time for drinking and partying, once the storm hit the Destiny Islands and they’d learned about Keyblades and other worlds.
What Riku had been like before that… what Riku had done before that, is better left a memory. And not the good kind.
He can’t avoid all of it, though, as much as he tries to put it all behind him.
“I can’t throw up when I’m feeling sick,” he says to Sora, businesslike, as though it’s something ordinary and not at all self-inflicted. “I have to force it.”
“What!?” Sora squawks. “Riku, what does that even mean?”
Riku ignores him, rummaging in the counter below the sink. He finds a basket filled with plastic-wrapped toothbrushes and toothpaste, the same he’d grabbed earlier when he’d been in the room himself. Setting one toothbrush and some toothpaste on the counter, he unwraps the other and turns to Sora.
“I’m sorry,” he says, wincing. “You trust me, right?”
Sora gapes at him. “You know I do, but that’s not a very encouraging—”
He yelps as Riku jabs the toothbrush into his mouth, hitting his throat at the necessary angle to trip his gag reflex.
Riku steers him to the toilet as he gags, completely caught off guard, and he folds over and retches into the bowl just as they get there.
“What,” he groans between bouts of retching. “Riku, what—”
Riku gathers his hair, holding it at his nape to keep it clean and dry. “I used to force myself to throw up a lot when I was a kid,” he explains, though he knows it lacks enough context to satisfy Sora’s boundless curiosity. “It got to the point that… no matter how sick I got, from a flu, or overeating, or drinking… no matter how sick I got, it was like my body refused to allow me to throw up.”
Sora pants against one of his hands, shielding his face from the gross plastic seat he has a death grip on. “Why… would you force yourself?”
Riku shifts uncomfortably. Honesty comes easy to someone like Sora, but for him it’s hard earned. There are things he’s too scared to admit to himself, let alone say out loud, but… if there’s anyone who has earned his complete honesty, it’s Sora.
“Attention, probably.” He looks intently at the wall because he’s too frightened of the expression he might find on Sora’s face. Especially since Sora looks like him; he feels like it would be too weird, his current self judging him for the stupid, childish actions of his past. “I thought parents doted on sick kids, so I…”
They don’t really talk about their parents much. Riku assumes Sora would feel homesick if he talked about his mother too much, and his dad… Sora never talked about him much anyway, not after he passed. Riku’s parents are both very much alive— at least, last he checked— but they aren’t really parents. He’d never told Kairi, but she seemed to understand. Sora… he doesn’t know. Sora can be so optimistic, he can see the good in so many people. At the same time, he’s faced off against some truly villainous people, and rarely hesitated to strike them down.
“They didn’t deserve you.” Sora’s voice scrapes out of a ruined throat, and he pulls himself to his feet with difficulty. “I don’t… I don’t like it, but thank you for the…” He shakily mimes throwing up, sweeping his hand from his chin down to his stomach in a wide arc.
“I’m used to it,” Riku says, aware that it’s a pretty fucked up response.
They’re best friends, they know each other so well now. It’s weird, to remember they still have secrets that they’ve never told each other.
That he spent much of his youth fending for himself, parents absent even in the brief periods they bothered to spend time at home… he knows it’s not good. It’s not really healthy. Even though he’s proud of how well he raised himself, it’s still… it’s not something that he’d wish on anyone. Too much time alone and unsupervised wasn’t healthy for someone as old as he’d been. He’s grateful to Sora’s mum, who had seen what was happening and kept him alive until he’d become old enough to mistake her charity as pity.
Sora hurries to the bathroom counter, rinsing his mouth out and splashing water on his face.
Riku watches him gather the toothbrush and toothpaste, perching on the counter while he waits for Sora to clean himself up.
He doesn’t know what to say. Things are still tense, but he’s not sure how to broach the subject of Quadratum, let alone anything else. Sora’s probably embarrassed about last night, too. Another stain on their already strained relationship. Maybe it’d be better to forget it, all of it, and start with a clean slate.
“I know there’s a lot to talk about,” Riku begins hesitantly, looking down at his feet. Up on the counter, they dangle ludicrously far from the floor, and he finds it difficult to keep still, his feet swaying back and forth automatically. “With last night, it’s…”
Sora freezes, glancing up at Riku with something inscrutable in his gaze. It looks silly, minty foam spilling from his mouth, but it’s still impossible to gauge what he’s thinking.
Riku misses the openness of Sora’s expressions when they’re on his own face.
“Things feel even more complicated,” Riku decides, aware that it’s a laughable understatement at best. “Is it… should we just put it behind us, for now?”
Sora spits out his mouthful, his brows pinching together as he rinses in silence. “No,” he says finally, his voice rough and gravelly, still sore from throwing up. “No, we just keep… we keep avoiding it, and I’m just so tired…” He sighs loudly, holding the counter’s edge tightly.
“Don’t,” Riku tries, swallowing hard. “Don’t force yourself to talk if you aren’t ready, Sora. I don’t want you to hurt yourself— ”
“I’m hurting you,” Sora cuts him off, his voice loud and echoing in the tiled room. “Right? Not talking about it is hurting you. I don’t want to keep hurting you, Riku.”
Riku’s shoulders drop, tension he didn’t know he was holding sliding off of him like a cloak. “Oh,” he exhales, his legs slowly swaying to a stop. “I guess so?”
Sora nods, determined. “Come on. Let’s talk about it somewhere that doesn’t smell like vomit, okay?”
Riku hops down from the counter and follows Sora in a daze, relief warring with slowly building dread as his heart stutters to racing. He’s wanted to talk about things for so long, but he’s so terrified of the consequences. Actually talking about it might mean clarification on some of the more confusing parts he doesn’t know, but… but it might also mean opening himself up to how Sora really feels. About Quadratum, and about him.
He’s been trying to brace himself for the truth all this time, but it feels like any walls he’s hastily built up are made of wet tissue paper. Riku doesn’t know how… if he’ll survive Sora’s inevitable rejection, even if he knows Sora will let him down as gently as possible.
There’s obviously some attraction there, Riku isn’t hopelessly naive or blind, and he knows Sora loves him. Sora loves everyone, to a degree, even those who don’t deserve it. Platonic feelings are a long way from what Riku feels for Sora, though. He doesn’t know that his feelings were ever anything other than what they are now. Some kind of all-encompassing, embarrassing, fairytale kind of true love.
Something unconditional. Something eternal.
Quadratum hadn’t changed anything for Riku. He’s always loved Sora, and nothing is ever going to change that. He does feel guilty because of what he did, and he supposes he has to confront that, because… because Sora had been happy. Riku has always quietly promised himself that he could live with that; if Sora finds someone who makes him happy, who he loves with just as much intensity as Riku loves him, he should be able to accept it and just be happy that Sora is happy, but…
Sora did find that. Sora had been living that, and Riku had destroyed his happiness without hesitation.
“Do you…” Riku asks softly as they reach Sora’s room. “Do you ever think about Yozora? Do you ever miss him?”
Sora hums, taking a seat on his bed and grabbing a pillow. He hugs it to his chest, like a shield between him and Riku.
Riku feels oddly glad for it, taking a seat next to Sora since there’s a barrier between them.
“Not really?” Sora ventures, shifting so that he’s sitting with his back against the headboard, long legs sprawled across the mattress. “I mean, I suppose I hope he’s doing okay? Now that he’s found, uh… Ryuu?”
Riku can’t help but smile. “Ryukoi.”
Sora beams. “Yeah! Now he and Ryukoi are back together, I think he’s probably fine, right?”
Riku isn’t sure. He suspects the Master’s plan was put in place because Yozora had been so tenacious in his own quest to find his important person. The Master of Masters had clearly seen that the only way to deter Yozora was to place someone similar enough to Ryukoi in his path. For someone as strong as Yozora, even that hadn’t been enough though. The Master had erased his and Sora’s memories in his plot, and Sora had become the perfect stand-in for the man Yozora had lost.
Maybe Riku is too biased, but he can’t imagine someone falling in love with Sora and then finding anyone else in the universe as an apt comparison.
Whether or not Yozora and Ryukoi had grown up together as childhood friends, had endured hardships and saved each other and fallen in love… Sora is Sora. Riku can’t help but wonder if Yozora wishes he’d stayed in Quadratum.
He spends more time wondering if Sora wishes he’d stayed.
“You were happy,” Riku murmurs, looking at the floor. “When I found you there, you were just… so happy, Sora. I’m— I’m sorry I spoiled all that.”
Sora squeezes the pillow hard enough that the fabric squeaks. “It was a lie, Riku,” he insists, tense. “I don’t care how happy I seemed. I would never want to live a lie like that.”
Riku wrings his hands, anxiety taking over like waves battering at an eroded cliff. “I know— I know your memory was manipulated, I know you didn’t start the relationship yourself, but still, you were just so fucking content, it was such a nice life without complications and I still couldn’t help but—”
“Riku, breathe.” Sora’s voice is sharp, a firm command laced with panic. “Is this why you’ve been trying to talk about it all this time? I’m not— I’m not mad at you for spoiling a relationship I was tricked into.”
“It’s not just that!” Riku’s spiralling, words flooding out without pause because he’s been bottling everything up for so long and thinking and thinking and thinking about everything, and now his heart is racing and he has to get everything out before his heart explodes because it’s just beating so damn fast—
“It was bad enough that you didn’t get a choice about the relationship,” he gasps, his knuckles turning white where they clutch at his knees. “It’s… you were happy, even if it was false happiness, and I thought maybe I shouldn’t ruin it, and then by the time I did it was already too late, you had already…”
“We fucked,” Sora finishes sharply.
Riku reels back like he’s been struck, turning to face Sora with wide eyes.
Sora’s face is dark, dangerous. As though he’s expecting Riku to say something worthy of him lashing out.
Riku’s mouth works, realising he’s stepping into dangerous territory here but not sure what the danger is, yet. “You did,” he rasps, wishing he had his body back so that he could hide his expression behind his too-long bangs. “And the more I thought about it, the more I… if I hadn’t let it get that far… I mean, you didn’t know him, and you thought you loved him, but if I had intervened, could I have stopped you from, erm…”
Sora stays silent, his eyes still intent. It’s like he’s waiting for Riku to smack him or something, waiting for Riku to say something awful and devastating, something hurtful.
Hurting Sora is the last thing Riku wants, but he’s clearly stepping into some kind of minefield. Treading carefully would be the best strategy, but Riku can’t think.
“I was worried that it was possibly not consensual, in hindsight,” Riku finishes lamely. “And I know it’s not the point, it’s not about me, but he looked at least a little like me, so I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me anymore since— since I’d just be a reminder of…”
Sora lets out a long breath, and the strange expression clears from his face. “You thought I’d be, like… traumatised, and then scared of you?”
Riku winces, but he supposes it’s as good a summary of his thoughts as any. “Yeah,” he murmurs, tugging at his bangs. “I know we’ve been through a lot, but not… not stuff like that. And I’ve seen what that sort of thing can do to people, so I…”
Sora’s face darkens again, but for a different reason. Before everything, before the storm and Keyblades and other worlds, all they’d had was Destiny Islands. Their community had been small, and gossip had been vicious at times, especially amongst those who were older.
When they’d both been in middle school, a local high school senior had killed herself. It had been the type of incident that had caused waves in the community. Everyone was horrified that such a bright and bubbly girl, such a wonderful student with so much potential, had felt as though she should do such an awful thing.
Riku had only learned the truth when he’d entered high school. She'd accused several of her fellow students of assault; the boys involved had claimed everything had been consensual, and so they hadn’t been punished. And the girl had become quiet and withdrawn, her friends drifting away from the melancholy shadow that remained of their friend. Her grades slipped, eventually she stopped going to school, and finally she simply made the decision to stop existing at all.
“Her name was Kotone,” Sora recalls, because he somehow remembers stuff like that. “Her mother worked with mine at the library. She babysat me a couple times.”
Riku squeezes his eyes shut, pinching his brow. “Fuck. Sorry, Sora. I didn’t know.”
“It’s fine,” Sora waves it off, even as his voice wavers. “I didn’t know why she did it for a long time, so I guess I didn’t understand at first. Why anyone would do anything like that.”
Riku understands why Sora would be confused. He also hadn’t had the full story at first, so it would make sense to be confused about a young girl deciding to end things… but Riku hadn’t been confused at all. Even as young as he’d been when it had happened, her decision had made morbid sense to him. He supposes not everyone has stray thoughts about hurting themselves, especially so young.
“I… ” Riku starts, wanting to be honest and open with Sora, but hesitant to open that particular can of worms. It’s not that he’s embarrassed about it, or worried about Sora’s reaction. It’s genuinely because he thinks it’s not the top priority at the moment. At least, he hopes he changes the subject because there are crucial matters at hand. “Have you seen any of my dreams, Sora? While we’ve been switched?”
Sora tilts his head, somehow looking so like himself despite wearing Riku’s face, still. “I… no. I don’t remember any dreams I’ve had. Why?”
Riku pulls his legs up onto the bed, heels pressing into the firm edge of the mattress as he hugs his knees. “Kairi mentioned the Dream Eater bond. I thought it might be a solution to our problem, if you could reach out… maybe we’d be able to use the bond to swap back?”
Sora chews his lip, frowning hard. “I’ve never felt it,” he points out. “What am I looking for?”
Riku isn’t quite sure how to explain, but he feels reasonably confident that it’s the only way to fix this. “Close your eyes,” he begins, twisting his fingers together anxiously where they rest against his shins. “Imagine there’s… a glowing thread just out of reach. A ribbon, bright and clear like the water on Destiny Islands, and drifting lazily in the air like the seabirds gliding above our island. Imagine reaching out and trying to catch it— it’s not quite tangible, but you can almost feel it flowing over your hands like water—”
Sora is silent, eyes closed and face screwed up in concentration.
Riku keeps attempting to describe the process, how the thread changes and wraps him entirely in warm sapphire lines of light, and then pulls him down into a dive, keeping his voice low and soothing. He feels as though he’s talking for a long time, long enough that he runs out of words.
Sora’s eyes open eventually, his lips pressing together hard, eyebrows tilted down.
Riku holds his breath, trying not to get his hopes up too high. He finds himself startled at the colour of Sora’s eyes; for whatever reason, he’d sort of thought they’d be their usual familiar sapphire, or stranger still… the fuchsia he associates with Dream Eaters.
His hopes are dashed when Sora shakes his head, shoulders drooping in disappointment. “I don’t feel anything,” he confesses, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s starting to get a migraine again.
Riku knows that can’t be it. There has to be a way to get Sora to feel the connection. Maybe Riku has to be asleep? Or maybe Riku has to figure out a better way of describing it. Not what it looks like, but how it feels? Like seeing something move out of the corner of your eye, there but not quite…
It’s not easy to explain something so intangible, so instinctive… but Riku has to try, and he has to succeed.
He misses Sora. It sounds silly, it sounds absurd, but it’s becoming more and more true by the minute. Riku misses Sora’s face, his voice, the way he moves, the feel of his hands. The open affection in his eyes when he looks at Riku.
Riku’s eyes don’t do that, aren’t as open and honest, and aren't as pretty. Maybe he’s biased, because he does actually know plenty of people with blue eyes, probably the exact same shade as Sora’s or at least relatively close, but none of them compare. It’s not even close.
He might be a lovestruck fool, but he’s always thought Sora is one of the most beautiful people he’s ever had the privilege of meeting. Requited feelings or no, he just misses looking at his best friend.
Riku’s stare must be obvious, because Sora squirms where he sits, brow furrowing with discomfort as he tries to find a bond that can’t be seen or really felt, that Riku can’t possibly describe to him.
“Sorry,” Sora finally spits, pressing one palm roughly against his eye like he’s trying to scrub away his frustration. “Sorry, I can’t— I can’t concentrate with you so close, I know the bond is important, I’m trying—”
“Sora,” Riku cuts in, anxiety crawling along his spine. “Sora, it’s okay, I don’t expect you to get it straight away.” He pivots gracelessly so he’s turned to face Sora, their knees so close they almost brush, because Sora sounds distressed, like he might cry, and Riku hates when Sora cries. It always makes his stomach curdle and his heart pound, panic setting in because Sora’s hurt—
“How can you just sit there like things aren’t different,” Sora grates out, frustration warring with genuine anger. “It’s one thing to kiss, I can understand why we could write that off as— as nothing but a mistake or something, but we made out and I can’t stop thinking about it!”
What.
“What.” Riku’s heart is pounding so hard he’s worried it’ll burst out of his chest. It’s all he can hear, the elevated thump-thump-thump and his own ragged breathing, all else muffled by his shock. What Sora said… there’s no way he can mean…?
He tries to remember last night, snippets of Sora’s surprise when he handily beat Riku at a fighting game instead of his usual futile button mashing. His shock and mock-outrage when Riku had, in turn, kicked his ass at a racing game. The night was hazy, flashes of bright light made more dizzying by Yuffie’s maniacal laughter and Kairi’s amusement and Sora, Sora, Sora.
Sora singing, too-loud and off-key— songs about running up hills or green-haired girls on the subway train— and then Sora crying onto his shoulder about missing his eyes, his face. Sora lying beneath him on the couch, eyes half-closed and mouth glistening, still sticky with the sweet alcohol they’d been drinking in excess. His face— Riku’s, but what did it matter when it was still Sora?— as Riku leaned closer, the way his eyes slipped closed in anticipation.
Fuck. Fuck.
Riku’s fucked it all up, hasn’t he?
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
Notes:
Chapter Content in Context
- Purging/Disordered Eating: Riku explains to Sora that he used to force himself to throw up a lot as a child, and that he can no longer vomit without making himself gag.
- Riku does this by jamming a toothbrush down Sora's throat without warning.
- Purging/Disordered Eating & Child Abuse/Neglect:This purging is explained away as wanting his parents' attention, as they weren't home often and left Riku on his own. When they were, they still weren't present, so as a child Riku assumed 'being sick' would make them care more.
- Child Abuse/Neglect & Alcohol Abuse: As well as the implication of purging, Riku mentions his tolerance for alcohol being much higher than Sora's, implying that he used to drink pre-canon (fifteen or younger,) at home alone where he had access to his parents' alcohol.
- Dubious Consent:Riku asks Sora if he feels traumatised by his relationship in Quadratum, as he and Yozora had their memories tampered with and therefore couldn't actually consent to the relationship they were in.
- Suicide/Suicidal Ideation: In their discussion of consent, Riku and Sora mention a former classmate who was assaulted and ended up committing suicide. Riku notes that he has had suicidal ideation in the past, and supposes that not everyone has those types of thoughts.
Chapter 11: 8.2: Sora (Day Eight)
Chapter by interlewd (draculastarion)
Summary:
There’s a balloon in his chest, something large and steadily growing, like a thread of panic that makes it hard to breathe, only it feels right. Something warm and necessary filling the dark emptiness he hadn’t realised was even there, his body shivering uncontrollably with every white hot touch to his skin, not used to the sensation he’s been starved of for so long—
“Riku,” he murmurs, not sure if there are any more words left in his vocabulary. “Riku.”
“Yeah,” Riku agrees, humming into his mouth.
Notes:
Let's finally earn the E-rating for this fic, huh? ;)
Chapter Text
Sora knows they need to stop. They need to talk, they can’t get swept up in these feelings and ignore all the things still left unsaid. It’s hard to remind himself of that, not when Riku has him crowded against the head of the bed, knelt between his shock-splayed legs and sucking on his tongue.
Stars, why have they waited so long to do this?
Riku’s mouth is hot and wet, sharply minty from toothpaste, but Sora doesn’t think that’s why his lips and tongue tingle. Riku kisses like he’s trying to construct a map of Sora’s mouth with tongue and teeth, dedicated to finding every single space he can find.
Sora feels like he’s in a sauna, his face and body so hot just from Riku’s proximity, let alone the compact weight of him where their chests press together, his breath— scalding— where it fans across Sora’s cheek, all of it burning south so fast Sora’s dizzy with it.
There’s a balloon in his chest, something large and steadily growing, like a thread of panic that makes it hard to breathe, only it feels right. Something warm and necessary filling the dark emptiness he hadn’t realised was even there, his body shivering uncontrollably with every white hot touch to his skin, not used to the sensation he’s been starved of for so long—
“Riku,” he murmurs, not sure if there are any more words left in his vocabulary. “Riku.”
“Yeah,” Riku agrees, humming into his mouth.
Sora shudders against him again, thoughts narrowing down to points of contact; Riku’s mouth against his, his hands— small, why are they small?— splayed over Sora’s ribs but not spanning them entirely. Sora’s hand clenches into the material of his shirt above his collarbone, the other moving up to tangle in Riku’s hair— brown, not silver— loath to let go despite his need for air because…
Because…
They’re still swapped. They’re still swapped and they have to fix it, but it’s so difficult to think of anything more than letting out a bereft whine when Riku’s lips detach from his, but it’s fine because Riku’s just burying his face in Sora’s neck, lips and teeth against Sora’s pulse like he wants to devour him, to dive into his heart through his frantic pulse—
“Oh, fuck.” Sora’s voice is foreign to his ears, a low, rasping growl more suited to Riku.
Shit. Shit, they have to stop before Sora gets too carried away.
“I’m going to go crazy,” Riku murmurs against his neck, his voice unsteady. “You’re so… I’ve never felt like this, like I’m on fire.”
Sora has, and he flushes hot at the thought. He knows his body, knows how sensitive he is; Riku’s probably right at the precipice already, right on the verge of coming, but he won’t. Sora knows he won’t.
Sora knows what he needs.
“Riku,” he pants, pulling him up for another mindblowing kiss. “Riku, would you let me… can I show you how to— I can make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”
“Yeah,” Riku says against his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to have processed what Sora is saying yet. “Need… I need. I don’t know.”
“Do you ever,” Sora asks, swallowing hard as Riku pulls back to look at him with dazed blue eyes. “Do you ever touch yourself?”
He allows his hand to slide down Riku’s body as he waits for Riku to respond, brushing over Riku’s neck, down the currently narrow line of his back until his hand is splayed over his lower back, almost encompassing the entire span.
Riku blinks a couple times, tilting his head. “Yeah, of course,” he eventually admits, pursing his lips. “Not often, but I… everyone does it, right?”
Sora licks his lips briskly, trying not to think of Riku in his bed, hand down his pants as he gets himself off. “No, I mean…” He feels his cheeks flush hot as his hand moves to Riku’s ass, fingers pressing tellingly at the centre seam of his pants. He hopes Riku will understand without him saying it, because he doesn’t know how.
Riku’s eyes widen, but his pupils blow huge at the same time, blue swallowed by blackness. “No, I’ve—no,” he tries, his voice cracking. “Have you?”
Sora nods, keeping himself as still as possible when all he wants is to flip Riku over and show him how it feels. “Yeah,” he breathes, almost frantic with desperate need, but he has to be patient, he can’t rush this. “I could show you. Let me? It feels amazing, Riku.”
It doesn’t even matter that he’s looking at his own body, strange as that is. He loved Riku when he looked like Ansem, even though he didn’t quite know how deeply his feelings ran back then. If he can adapt to Riku’s appearance so easily then, he’s sure he can put the strangeness aside now.
Especially since they have no clue how to change back – or if they ever will.
Sora decides to take a leap of faith, trusting that their hearts had linked for a reason. “I could…” he begins, stubbornly swallowing his nerves, “if you wanted. I could, er…”
“How?” Riku stares at him, hesitant. It’s unusual for him to hesitate so much, to appear so honestly vulnerable, and something about that is compelling.
Sora slides the hand still tangled in Riku’s hair around to rest against his cheek, trying not to spook Riku anymore than he already is. “You know, I could— I’d use my fingers.”
“Yes,” Riku hisses, and then looks just as surprised as Sora feels at the speed of his response.
Sora just has to kiss him, thrilled that Riku is opening up a little, even if it’s not necessarily intentional. Despite how close they are, Sora knows Riku has always had trouble being completely honest, not just with Sora but also with himself. For whatever reason— probably the fact that Sora is hopelessly in love— Riku being honest is really hot. Maybe it should be weird to find honesty attractive. Sora doesn’t care, because he loves everything about Riku.
He wants to show him that. Not just to make him feel good, but also because he wants Riku to feel loved, appreciated, special in the way that he deserves.
Sora finds it incredibly difficult to stop kissing Riku; like he could get drunk off of them, dizzier and more elated than he was last night when he’d actually been drinking. Still, the desire to please Riku outweighs how spectacular making out feels. He manages to find the hem of Riku’s shirt and separate from him just long enough to pull it off, gasp in some more air, and then dive back in.
“Sora,” Riku murmurs, pressing closer and threading fingers into Sora’s hair to tilt his head back. His bare chest brushes against Sora’s own shirt and he shudders at the feeling. “Sora.”
“I’ve got you,” Sora murmurs into Riku’s mouth. He pushes at Riku’s waistband, slipping the loose trousers down until they’re at Riku’s thighs, trapped in place by the wide splay of his legs.
Riku tangles a hand in Sora’s shirt. “Off,” he complains. “Yours, too.”
“Yeah, we should,” Sora tries, the rest of his thought swallowed by Riku’s mouth against his again. “We should stop a minute, just a minute. Need to make sure— I have something.”
Riku pulls away reluctantly, breathing hard. His lips are red and swollen, slick and damp with saliva, and his eyelids are half closed like it’s taking all the restraint in the world to keep from just kissing Sora stupid again.
Sora would let him, but he has plans.
He wants to make Riku fall apart. Sora knows his body, has taken the time to explore and figure out what gets him off. He doesn’t need to talk to Riku to figure out the same can’t be said for him; Riku wears his repression like a gold medal, like it’s something to be proud of rather than something that requires careful dismantling.
Riku seems relatively uninhibited at the moment, scrambling out of bed and shucking his trousers and underwear without shame. He blinks down at Sora, waiting for instructions or something.
That thought is a heady one, and Sora has to ignore it so that he doesn’t implode or something. He shuffles to the edge of the mattress instead, reaching for the bedside table and opening the top drawer. Thankfully, there is a tube of lubricant in there, and not one that’s expired or empty or anything else that could go mortifyingly wrong.
“How do you want to do this?” he asks Riku, his voice cracking midway through the sentence. “It’d probably be easiest if you’re, um, on your back.”
Riku’s eyes are dark, flicking over Sora’s body like he’s the one that’s completely naked. “I like how we were before,” he admits reluctantly. “The closeness.”
Sora swallows hard at the thought of Riku writhing in his lap, his already burning cheeks flaring yet hotter. “Yeah, we can do that,” he agrees, making to sit against the headboard again.
Riku’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, strong grip stopping Sora in his tracks. “Clothes,” he reminds Sora, narrowing his eyes.
Sora huffs, but shuffles to the edge of the bed again, sliding off so that he’s stood in front of Riku.
It’s still weird, being taller. Sora’s body looks so much smaller from his angle, his features slightly distorted but not in an unpleasant way. He looks cute, his features more innocent, almost doll-like, his limbs narrower, his waist thinner. Even so, there’s breadth to his shoulders he didn’t know was there, and his legs are thicker than he thought, muscled from years of running, jumping, and aerial combat. Surely that’s not the case; he knows he’s always been boyish, young-looking. Not pretty, but not overly strong either.
He’s trying not to wonder if he’s seeing himself like this because he’s in a different body, that his view of himself might be distorted and untrue. Worse still, that he’s seeing himself like this because he’s in Riku’s body. What if Riku is attracted to features of his that aren’t even there…?
Sora can’t think like that, or he’ll start overthinking the way Riku does when he’s left alone for too long.
“Can I?” Riku asks, snapping him from the beginnings of a downward spiral.
Riku’s hands — Sora’s hands, small, calloused and rough — hover at Sora’s sides, where his shirt has rucked up above his waistband.
“Yeah,” Sora breathes, allowing him to lift the fabric up and off.
Riku is always efficient, so he has Sora naked and is pushing him back towards the bed before Sora can even figure out how he managed to do it so quickly.
Sora finds himself seated against the headboard once more, Riku in his lap, and things were amazing before, but something about Riku above him, their bodies pressed close, skin-to-skin, almost undoes Sora before they’ve started.
“You’re so— you feel so hot,” he blurts, embarrassed that he’s said something so stupidly obvious.
It’s worth it, because Riku relaxes against him, laughing into his neck. “Your body is burning up,” he agrees, way more coherent than he should be when he’s so hard. “Mine doesn’t do this, doesn’t feel like this… right?”
Sora presses a kiss against Riku’s collarbone, fumbling with the lube. “Maybe not,” he supposes. “I figure everyone’s different.”
Riku huffs against his throat, like he’s about to protest. “I figure I'm just—”
Sora assumes he’s going to say something about how he might be broken, so he decides he should divert Riku’s attention before he’s mean to himself again. “Are you ready?” he asks, slicking two fingers before dropping the lube on the bed. He uses his left hand to grasp Riku’s ass, gently parting his cheek.
“Fuck,” Riku hisses, throwing his arms around Sora’s shoulders and squeezing. “Yeah. Yeah, do it.”
“I’ll go slow,” Sora promises, rubbing gently at his rim, making sure everything is slick and ready before he starts to…
Stars, before he starts to finger Riku open.
Riku’s arms tighten on Sora’s shoulders, squeezing every time his fingers brush across the rim without pressing inside. He pants against Sora’s hair, sending silver threads fluttering across Sora’s vision.
Riku begins to mindlessly press closer to Sora, gentle rocking of his hips away from— or perhaps into— the fingers against his entrance. His absent thrusting brings him into contact with Sora, their stomachs brushing, and Sora can feel the hot, wet glide of his cock above his navel.
Sora always gets really wet when he’s doing this, precum spilling from his cock so much that it looks like he’s already come multiple times by the time he’s reached his peak. He’d been ashamed of it the first few times he’d had sex, but Yozora had assured him that everyone was a little different, and some people were more excitable than others.
Or a little less.
Riku’s body seems to be the latter, so Sora’s eager to watch him fall apart the way Sora does on the rare occasion he allows himself to come like this. He doesn’t get that much time alone, so fingering himself isn’t something he does regularly. Still, he’ll jump at the chance when he has the time, because he knows exactly how his body reacts to it, and it’s a lot.
That he can share this with Riku, that he can experience how incredible it feels… that’s something precious. He’s not going to miss his opportunity for anything.
“You’re teasing me,” Riku mumbles against his hair. “Need more.”
A thrill zings down Sora’s spine, and he can’t fight back the grin that spreads across his face. Riku asking for something he wants still feels so rare and precious.
“Anything,” Sora promises, and means it. He carefully slides a finger in, as slow as he can so that Riku doesn’t tense up. It’s so difficult to restrain himself; he knows his body, knows how greedy it is. Stars, he can feel how it wants more by how his hole flutters around the intrusion, welcoming him.
For Riku’s sake, he has to go slow.
“Oh,” Riku says, his back arching as he instinctively tries to pull Sora’s fingers deeper. “Your fingers are…”
“Yours are thicker than mine,” Sora agrees breathlessly, wishing he could feel the difference. His hands aren’t the same: he has wide palms and short fingers, not absurdly small for his frame, but short enough that he knows Riku’s much longer ones must be reaching a place in his body he’s never had the opportunity to feel. His body is just much smaller than Riku on the whole — and pressed together like this, it’s more obvious — so where Sora’s fingers are usually short, he’s got Riku’s longer, thicker fingers right now and he’s almost jealous at how much better they have to feel inside.
“It’s,” Riku tries, his mouth wet against Sora’s temple. “It feels kinda good?”
Sora nods, unable to speak through the reboot his brain needs at the sound of Riku’s voice, overwhelmed with unsure pleasure.
All he can do at this point is give Riku more and hope he doesn’t fuck this up somehow. Tentatively, he pushes deeper, still overwhelmed at how easily Riku opens up for him, at how his body shivers and shakes, pressing closer and clutching tighter at his shoulders.
“Are you always like this?” Riku asks hazily, when Sora’s finally got one finger all the way inside. “Shaking because you need it so much? Need more?”
Sora flushes. “A little,” he admits into Riku’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s— it’s probably more intense because it’s you. Because it’s your fingers.”
“Shit,” Riku groans, leaning down to bite at Sora’s shoulder.
Sora’s vision whites out for a second, a sharp burst of pained pleasure sparking down his spine at the feel of teeth in his skin. “You like that?” He doesn’t know if he’s more surprised, shocked, or alarmed.
“Yeah,” Riku mumbles around the bite mark. “Yeah, you can give me another.”
Sora blinks at him for a moment before he realises Riku didn’t understand the question. Quietly, he considers whether Riku would even know he likes being bitten. He doesn’t think Riku has done anything with anyone before, and that’s… it’s a little sad, but also sends a thrill up Sora’s spine at the thought of being the first to map out all the hidden places that spark desire.
He’s unsure about giving Riku a second finger so soon, but as he presses against the first finger, Riku arches again and the finger slides in as easily as if it were meant to be there.
Sora should probably be embarrassed at how easily his body opens up for this, especially since he’d been resigned to Riku possibly slut shaming him earlier for sleeping with Yozora — that conversation had definitely gone so wildly different to what he’s been dreading this entire time — but he finds himself flushing hot at the feel.
His body is so eager for more, not just because he likes being filled, but because it’s Riku doing it. He’s sure of it, that the closeness to Riku and his dextrous fingers are what are causing his body to respond so powerfully to all of this. It’s that thought that gives him the confidence to add a third finger.
Riku almost wails, his back arching like he’s been hit with a particularly powerful spell, his head tipped back so far Sora’s worried he’ll manage to hurt himself.
“There, that’s so,” he mumbles, rocking back towards Sora’s fingers restlessly. “Again, again—”
Sora reaches out, clasping the back of Riku’s neck and drawing him back in to press his burning forehead against Sora’s. “You’re okay,” he babbles, allowing his fingers to work faster, trying not to listen to the slick squelch of his fingers as they rapidly fuck into Riku because if he thinks about it for even one second he’s going to finish himself. “You can let go, Riku, I’ve got you—”
Riku’s eyes bore into Sora’s, lids low and eyes gone hazy as thought is eliminated in favour of feeling. He’s making little noises every time Sora’s fingers thrust in and brush over his prostate, eyelids fluttering each time, his mouth open and red and wet.
The sight alone is almost too much for Sora.
“Almost there,” Sora murmurs, tilting his chin as Riku sways closer. “Let go, Riku, I’ve got you. I love you.”
Riku shudders against Sora, groaning loud as he begins to come untouched, clenching tight around Sora’s fingers. One hand scrabbles frantically at Sora’s neck, pulling him into a clumsy kiss that’s more teeth than tongue, and his other hand slides over Sora’s back.
Nails dig into Sora’s skin as Riku paws at him restlessly, scratching the back of his neck and then down his spine as his hand slides sweat-slick over the Dream Eater mark on Sora’s back—
All at once, Sora feels as though he’s been the one fucked open on Riku’s fingers, his whole body lighting up with pleasure so intense his vision goes white.
He loses himself for an unknowable length of time, carried away from any ability to think by the wave of pleasure that’s crashed over him like a tsunami.
When he’s finally aware that he exists again, he feels… different. He can feel Riku against him, pressed as close as physically possible, but there’s still some strange barrier between them. Sora instinctively closes his eyes, and instead of darkness before him, he can still see Riku. Riku, not his best friend in his own body but the real thing, silver hair long and tousled where it spills down over Sora’s shoulders and conceals Riku’s expression.
Something wavers at the corner of Sora’s vision, and he looks up to see a ribbon trailing just out of his reach, like all he needs to do is stretch a little more in order to grasp onto the conclusion that will set them right—
His fingers— no longer pale and dexterous, because he’s himself right now— clasp around a brilliant, glowing thread of crystal clear cerulean, bright and so reminiscent of Riku’s eyes. As his fingers press against the thread, the colour begins to change, a brilliant sapphire blue suffusing the aqua and deepening it to a stunning, rich turquoise.
The thread slides through his fingers, as insubstantial as air or water, but it’s as though it wants him to hold it, twining through his fingers and tugging him forth.
“S-Sora—” Riku gasps, but he sounds suddenly far away, and then as though he’s surrounding Sora on all sides somehow.
Sora opens his eyes, and finds that he and Riku are somewhere else. Somewhere new.
There’s endless darkness pressing in on all sides, but Sora isn’t afraid. It doesn’t feel suffocating and oppressive like the cloying, artificial darkness he and Riku have been fighting for what feels like decades. He’s standing in the middle of a glowing stained-glass platform, solid and unbreakable beneath his feet. There’s a light shining from far above, making the myriad colours across the platform glow brighter, almost bright enough to hurt his eyes, but there’s something soothing about this place. Familiar. Comforting.
Riku stands behind Sora, their backs pressed warmly together and their hands pressed together from palm to fingertip; united, despite facing away from each other.
He’s relieved Riku is with him, a comforting warmth at his back.
As Sora peers around, the darkness at the edges of the platform resolves into colourful glass, and Sora watches nervously as memories— his memories— begin to flicker across the shards, an endless reel of his life splaying before his very eyes.
‘What is this place?’ Sora wonders, looking around the myriad shards of memory with wide, wondrous eyes.
‘I have no idea,’ Riku responds without words. ‘I’ve never seen this place, Sora, but—’
‘It feels familiar,’ Sora responds in concert with Riku.
A large hand clasps over his own, and he and Riku stand wordless and back-to-back on the platform, too mesmerised by the sights before them to question why Riku’s hand feels… right once more.
It takes a few moments before Sora feels something click behind him.
‘It’s our memories,’ Riku tells him, buzzing with realisation. ‘Our memories, entwined.’
Sora knows he’s right, seeing the slight overlap in the images, moments where Kairi appears before them from two different perspectives, or moments where something is from Sora’s perspective, so he can see Riku, overlapped with Riku watching him instead.
‘Are we…?’ he ventures, watching their most precious memories swirl lazily around them. ‘Are we in each other's hearts?’
Riku finally turns, and Sora meets him in the middle, turning so they’re facing each other in the centre of the platform.
‘How would we…?’ Riku wonders, his brows furrowing but his lips unmoving. ‘Unless…’
He and Riku reach out as one, hands covering each other's chests where their hearts rest.
‘We’re connected,’ they think together.
The thought ripples out between them, something glowing brighter in the distance. They turn to face the light and realise as one that the platform is changing, that a stunning crystalline path is winding up into the dark, leading away from this little sanctuary.
Somewhere deeper.
As one, Sora and Riku cross to the path and begin to ascend.
‘What do you think we’ll find?’ Sora asks.
Riku’s thoughts echo back immediately. ‘Answers. The truth. Things we’ve tried to hide.’
Sora’s hand clutches tighter to Riku’s in response, both of them simultaneously terrified of what they’ll find, but determined to keep each other safe and together, no matter what.
Memories spiral out of the darkness, swirling around them as they ascend. Sora can feel how devastated Riku had been at the thought of ruining Sora’s happiness, of tearing him away from the life he’d built with Yozora in Quadratum… but also the keen sense of loss he’d felt at the thought of leaving Sora in that place. He can sense Riku’s relief when he feels Sora’s answering relief that Riku had come for him, had saved him from another situation where his memories hadn’t been his own.
Sora presses his lips together. ‘I’d never hold something like that against you,’ he thinks firmly. ‘I don’t like anyone messing with my head; you saved me from that. I’m grateful.’
Riku hears his words, but also the feelings beneath. That Sora’s feelings hadn’t been conjured from nowhere; they’d been Sora’s feelings for Riku, redirected to Yozora as someone just similar enough that it hadn’t raised any red flags in his mind at all. That his love for Riku had been so powerful that he had been the only person in Quadratum who could match Yozora’s for his missing lover.
‘You really…’ Riku wonders, awed. ‘You felt that much for me?’
‘I don’t know why you’re so surprised by it,’ Sora doesn’t have a body to roll his eyes with, but he hopes Riku feels his intent all the same. ‘Why would I feel anything for anyone else when you’re so… you?’
There’s so much left unsaid, but he knows Riku can feel what he does right now. That Riku is the best person he knows, that he’s so strong and deserves everything good that comes his way, that he is so incredible, and so pretty, and unfairly attractive… that Sora’s been obsessed with him since he was like thirteen years old. Maybe since he was like four.
‘That long?’ Riku asks, something warm and sweet sparking in his chest.
Sora smiles, a twin flame sparking in his own chest. ‘Of course,’ he answers, charmed by how silly Riku can be sometimes.
Riku glances at him sideways, fondly affronted that Sora thinks he’s the silly one.
Sora just swings their arms, content to navigate the spiraling path with Riku at his side. As they walk, he notices little flowers sprouting at their feet in jewel-bright shades, glassy petals unfurling into brilliant crystal blooms. Despite the low light they sparkle and glint, lighting up the path with each step.
It’s pretty, but Sora gets a strange sense that the flowers mean something, that their reappearance is some kind of sign that his and Riku’s relationship is trying to mend itself.
‘We have been out of sync,’ Riku points out, looking down at their clasped hands with a self-deprecating quirk of his lips. ‘I feel like a lot of it is on me… I’m sorry. I suppose I’ve been struggling with… with getting used to how your body works more than I cared to admit.’
He thinks it as though Sora hasn’t been facing daily challenges trying to manage Riku’s own quirks, too. Sora has been coaxing himself out of bed all week, though it’s been much easier when Riku comes to fetch him, and before Kairi had intervened, he’d definitely been drinking his body weight in coffee trying to keep Riku’s migraines at bay. Sora’s bumped too-long arms into almost every doorway in the tower, smacked his head on more low-hanging objects than he can count, and has been far too scared to look down whenever he’s showered.
The fact is, this isn’t easy for Sora, either.
That said, there are some specific struggles Sora has that Riku has never experienced before, and he supposes it must feel… limiting, to go from having a brain that works efficiently, to having the disorganised mess that is Sora’s.
He thinks about Riku’s clear alarm when he’d attempted to read a book about Dream Eaters and winces in sympathy.
‘I’m sorry,’ he offers, his anger snuffing out just as quickly as it had reared up. ‘I know you wanted this solved as soon as possible; I wouldn’t want to deal with my brain for longer than necessary, either.’
Riku’s anger flares bright and hot in response, and he tugs Sora’s hand to bring him to a stop. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ he snaps, but his aggravation feels internal, not directed at Sora at all. ‘Sora, I might be frustrated by your inability to sit still, and the way your brain skips through thoughts is honestly exhausting, but it’s— it just proves to me even more how incredible you are. You know that, right? I can barely function with my mind like this, and you manage it like it’s not a big deal at all!’
Sora tilts his head to the side, baffled. ‘But it’s not a big deal? Riku, I’ve had ADHD my whole life. I’ve figured out a few ways to navigate it after years of trial and error; expecting you to adjust to it in like a week is super unrealistic.’
Riku stares at him.
Sora gets lost in his eyes, surprised that there are variations of blue and green in them— it’s not like he looks too closely very often, afraid of what that might reveal of himself— but he’s desperately missed the calming aquamarine of Riku’s actual irises, and the defenses he’s built up against them over the years have crumbled to dust.
‘You’re right,’ Riku says eventually, his cheeks flushing a pink, starkly visible against the pale glow of his pale complexion. He shifts on his feet, unsure whether they should continue their trek or stay where they are. ‘You… you said it’s been difficult for you to get out of bed?’
Sora’s cheeks heat; he’d definitely thought it, but he hadn’t realised Riku had latched onto it.
‘Yeah, I…’ He looks down at their hands, both pairs intertwined now that they’re standing directly across from each other — and isn’t that strange? He hadn’t even realised they’d joined them. He’s been more discomfited by his lack of motivation in the mornings than he’s admitted, even if he understands that the feelings are Riku’s and not his own. It feels like a cop-out, to assume it’s Riku who doesn’t bounce out of bed, mainly because Sora has a hard time reconciling the Riku he knows with someone who wants to stay curled up in bed almost all the time.
Riku’s shoulders hitch up, a sign Sora is familiar with, that he’s about to say something that makes him uncomfortable. It’s such a Riku thing to do that, despite Riku’s obvious discomfort, Sora thrills at the familiar sight.
‘My… Sometimes I have bad days, and it’s hard for me to motivate myself… but I’ve had years to figure out how to force myself out of bed every morning, even when I don’t want to.’
Sora nods, even though he’s still blindsided by the knowledge that Riku has days bad enough that he’s figured out a way to bully himself out of a slump.
Now that Sora’s felt some of those bad days firsthand, he feels as though he’s gained a new appreciation for how strong Riku is. To have endured all that he has already – with the added lack of motivation in the mornings that would prevent so many other people from being able to do even one percent of the things Riku has managed.
He wonders — hopefully privately — just what could be so powerful that it surpasses the awful, heavy nothingness that comes with such a lack of motivation and energy, and just as quickly as he thinks it, Riku is unconsciously responding. His thoughts are loud, sweeping over Sora like a tide, a level of affection and desire, to grow strong enough to protect that which is most precious—
Sora.
‘Oh,’ he breathes, staring up at Riku with wonder.
‘Come on,’ Riku thinks, and his smile is small and painfully honest. ‘The sooner we finish this, the sooner we get back to ourselves.’
He turns, letting go of Sora’s right hand so that they can walk side-by-side once more. He keeps his own right hand clasped around Sora’s left, radiating warmth.
Sora swings them idly once more, staring down at them in fascination. Riku’s hands really are much bigger than his own, his hand enveloping Sora’s entirely. Even so, they seem to fit perfectly, their fingers twined together like puzzle pieces. When Sora looks up at Riku’s face again, his smile is wider, his eyes glinting in the crystalline flower-lights (which are growing larger and lusher the higher they climb).
For one very brief moment, the light catches Riku’s eyes and they look almost pink, and a strange shadow passes across his shoulders, creating the illusion of large, batlike wings arcing over his broad shoulders.
Sora tries to bite back his own smile, thinking of Riku’s dedication to him, how he’d done the impossible and turned himself into a Dream Eater just to save Sora.
His wonderful, impossible, insane best friend. His— the love of his life, the only person he’d ever even consider in a romantic way, let alone anything else.
Sora still struggles to comprehend how someone like Riku could be wrestling with the idea that Sora couldn’t like him. As if he’s nothing, and as if he has nothing to offer. Whatever the cause, irrational as it may be… Sora is determined to show him how silly such a notion is. Even if it takes every single day of his life.
He’s going to show Riku that he’s worthy of Sora’s love.
✧ ♡ 🗝 ♡ ✧
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