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The Islands are colder these days. The sun no longer burns his face, and the sand no longer blisters his feet. This is what he gets, he thinks, for living in hell and working for the devil.
Sora is standing there, still, so unnaturally still. The ocean is creeping towards him, slowly the waves attempt to devour his toes. He can see the hairs raised on his bare arms, and his hands are clutched tightly, knuckles white. He remembers the days when you couldn't pay Sora to stop moving, he was an unstoppable force of twirls and twists. This scares him.
"Can't you feel it?" Sora is staring out to a distant point, "It's in the air. Something is coming."
It's so cliche that he wants to laugh. The King told them something was coming, to wait for it. The waiting is killing him.
"I know."
If he blinked he would have missed it, one moment Sora standing there, a statue almost, then he falls back onto the sand, grinning and looking at him.
"Oh well, at least we get a break until then." He says like it doesn't mean a thing, like he doesn't realise what's going to happen when the King comes back, like he doesn't know this moment is just a pitstop in the chaos that their lives had become.
It's the middle of the day on a Wednesday, they should be in class right now. He has Biology and Sora has English, at least this is what Kairi tells them. They haven't been to class yet, he can't make himself walk through those doors, knowing every second it could all be ripped away from him.
His mother stares at him sometimes, he can feel her eyes even when he's not looking. Sora tells him the same thing, his parents watch him sleep at night, his father's fingernails digging holes in the door frame.
"You should go to school then." He sits next to him, curling in on himself to protect from the chilling wind.
Sora was always naive and lazy, but god he was smart. He remembers the high grades Sora would use to get, and lectures the teachers would give him, if only he would apply himself, they used to say, if only he concentrated. Sora barely cared about books unless they taught him how to float away.
"I will once you do." Sora rolls over and places his head in his lap. "Riku?"
"Hmm?" He brushes his fingers through his spiky mess of hair.
"Some days I don't wanna go back. 'Cause I know if I go back something bad's gonna happen, something bad always happens. People are gonna get hurt again, Riku. And I think to myself, I think, maybe if I stay here, with you, and my parents, and my friends. Maybe if I stay here on the Island, nothing bad will happen, maybe if I do nothing, maybe no one will get hurt. Then I remember how stupid that is. Because people are gonna get hurt, whether I'm there or not, but if I'm there then maybe I can stop some of the bad." Sora confesses, in a fast, low voice. Like if he speaks any louder the words will travel to the wrong ears, and the sea will sweep them away for all the hear.
He leans down and kisses him softly on the lips, he was never the best with words, and struggles with them more often than before.
"Of course bad things are gonna happen Sora, whether we are there to stop them or not. And something is coming, and we don't know if its good or bad, but I promise you, with all the power I posses in me, I promise you I won't let you fight it alone." He grips onto Sora's hands, and stares down at him, "I can't promise you bad things won't happen, or that people won't get hurt, I can't even promise that I won't leave you. But god Sora, I won't let you fight it alone. I want you to know that. I will rip down whatever stands in my way if it means I can't help you fight. And we will have to fight again, and I don't know for how long, and for how far. But Sora, you won't be alone, you won't be alone."
Sora hugs Riku, well tackle might be a better word for it, they both fall back onto the sand. Sora laying on top of him, face pushed into his neck, gripping onto his shirt.
"Riku."
The waterline has crawled up to meet his feet. He is so cold and Sora is so warm. He can feel all of Sora's zippers and chains digging into him and it doesn't hurt him, not like they used to. He was used to a different type of hurt now. His leg still ached when the weather changed, and he could still see Ansem when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them he could see Sora, and that meant everything.
The clouds roll across the sky and hide the sun, the waves wash away the sounds of Sora breathing, and his toes are numb from the water, but nothing matters to him except the thick parchment in his pocket and the boy on his chest.
Riku is so scared of what is to come.