Sixteen Candles

Disclaimers: Kingdom Hearts and the rest of the amazing franchise © Disney and Square Enix; everything else © their rightful owners.

A/N: Um. Yeah, so I just pulled this one out of my ass. -laugh.- You can thank Family Guy, ennui, and Vanilla Coke for this, as well as my deranged humor.

If you haven't seen Sixteen Candles (Molly Ringwald, Michael Schoeffling, etc), then this may not be as much of the comedy genre for you, but if you've got an understanding of the movie, I hope you chuckle at least once while reading. Don't you know we all love the '80's! Now, I have only seen a few scenes of the movie, but this is merely a parody.

Am I really writing this?

Yes. I am. -evil grin.-

Set after the end of the second game, on Destiny Islands. C'mon, you didn't think that Sora would stop attending school, did you?

ATTENTION NOSTER NOSTRI READERS: This, in no way whatsoever, means that I am forgetting that story. Keep looking for updates; they'll arrive soon. Noster Nostri will definitely be finished.

Overall Ratings/Warnings: M—profanity, explicit content, RikuSo

Ratings/Warnings for this chapter: T—profanity

"Turning sixteen isn't easy when you realize that you've fallen in love. It's the time of your life that will last a lifetime."

Sixteen Candles—Chapter One

The worlds were at a balance...

It was at school lunch on Monday, the third week classes were back in session, a full month and a half since they had returned, that it hit him. His mind was marqueeing contemplations of the journey he'd just completed, how restless he now felt with nothing so urgent occupying his heart besides mundane things such as breakfast, school, lunch, sports, attractions, dinner, friends, homework, midnight snack, then bed, when the noon broadcast by the student council echoed tinnily through the hallways, reminding the student body that the back-to-school dance was coming up on Friday, September 1.

Sora's eyes widened and his hand fell from cradling his chin, both palms slapping the lunch-table sharply, a breathless, "Oh my God!" trickling from his lower lip. His peers around him, including but not limited to a certain Riku and Kairi, regarded him with curio not entirely incredulous. The brunette was an eccentric guy, and one had to be very accustomed to his spastic antics and charismatic portrayal of emotions, but the abrupt explosions never failed to catch one off guard.

"What's the matter?" Selphie piped up first, blinking in a rather empty fashion.

"I just realized something!" Sora cried emphatically, brows furrowing on panicked blue irises. "I...um..." Well, he couldn't share with everyone that he had just remembered that he didn't remember something—that would be a little awkward and only two people would understand that was quite possible. But his friends were gawking at him, stares pressuring for the explanation of his sudden outburst. "Uh—I just realized that I...don't have any plans for the dance."

September 1. That was his birthday.

And he just realized that he didn't remember his fifteenth birthday.

Had he slept through it...?

The night of the dance was his sixteenth birthday, that magically special night for any adolescent, dreamy or pessimistic it mattered not, and he, himself, had almost forgotten.

"What are you talking about?" Tidus grunted, ripping a rather large hunk of his sandwich off with clamped jaws.

"The dance," Sora insisted with a concern rather noncommittal for his previously aghast cry to higher powers, hunching down on the bench and feeling somewhat stupid. Cowed beneath their heavy gazes of skepticism, he ducked his head a little, brows furrowing and lips puckering as his features passed into a vicious pout. "The dance...you know, on Friday."

"The one they just announced?" Riku breathed with offhanded excitement, a beautifully played card of sarcasm.

"Yes," Sora hissed, skidding his tray to the left to allow his elbows more room upon the tabletop.

"Are you worried you won't have anyone to go with?" Kairi inquired, her chin propped in her palm and her painted nails dancing idly on the apple of her cheek. She peered at him with optics warm and assuring, a smile curling at her glossed lips; Sora blinked, oblivious to the girlishly sly teasing that hid in her glib comfort, and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off as Tidus erupted into laughter, snorting his drink onto his own knuckles.

"Sora, you're worried about a date?" he squalled incredulously, brows risen and a crooked grin breaking on his face as he mopped up the juice with a napkin expertly stolen from the brunette's tray, conveniently close.

"I just don't know what I'm going to do," the brunette denied in a howl, landing as many blows on Tidus's blonde mop of a head as he could, fists flailing as he snarled dramatically. The boy under assault laughed, arms hooked over his cranium to absorb the impacts, but the last one sent to the back of his skull shot his visage forward, jaw cracking on the edge of the table.

"Ow," he mumbled, clasping a hand over his mouth and scowling darkly. Sora settled back into his own spot victoriously, slumping onto the table again. A glower written all over his face, he flicked a troubled azure gaze up and abruptly met it with sea-green irises locked onto him. Almost jumping, the brunette blinked rapidly as his glare only deepened; it was so typical of Riku to get amusement out of his innocent humiliation. There he sat, gawking with a bland expression, lips tilted in a hidden smile, but his eyes read utter delight and indulgence. Their intensity, piercing through those silver wisps, made a shiver snake down Sora's spine and he immediately whipped his head around, peering out over the busy lunchroom.

But the stare was still upon him, heated and luscious. He couldn't deny that. It questioned his integrity, questioned his ambitions: was he really worried about that petty dance? That pathetic bash where high schoolers would spend gorges of money on clothes, rides, and dinners, only to get drunk or high, date raped or jumped, pregnant or embarrassed?

"What exactly are you freaking out about?" Kairi was talking again, lacing her fingers and threading them absently together, bracelets jangling together and her variety rings causing hindrance against her moving knuckles. She was infamous for over-accessorizing, and they acted as if cat-bells, announcing her presence even before she did so herself.

"I don't know," Sora returned as the intercom overhead blasted the deafening, portentous bell, signaling the end of break and the beginning of more daydream-inducing lessons. Math class was beckoning to him with the facade of a fun time, and he stood, grabbing his tray to dump it on his way down the hall. The good-byes were called and Wakka, barely noticed at the other end of the table in his own world of iPod ear-buds and protein shakes, trailed off with Selphie, Tidus trotted away shouting for the attention of classmates across the cafeteria, and Kairi drifted along behind Sora quietly, her bag delicately hooked on her shoulders. The brunette boy paused at the end of the table, glancing over his shoulder. "What about—"

Riku was already gone.

Sora frowned, but Kairi brought his attention back to earth, taking his wrist and tugging him along to the trash bin and eventually the window where the trays were slid in to wash. Blinking, startled and confused as to the emotions blooming within his chest, the boy stumbled after her, but came to a screeching halt when his friend cried out in absolute, blameworthy devastation:

"Sora, I lost the quiz!"

"What?" he choked out, eyes widening and his tray clattering to the floor. "You 'lost' it? Lost it?"

"Yes," Kairi whispered tremulously as she hung her head in shame, hands clutched together nervously at her stomach, the edge of her tie dusting against her thumbs. Sora gawked at her, suddenly feeling way too hot even though he had chills, and his stomach was pinching up—was he going to view that hot dog again, this time in the form of chunky bile? Light headed, swallowing on a throat Sahari-dry, the brunette lifted his digits and cradled his temple, free hand propped on his hip. Unaware of his frantically effeminate stance even as Kairi scrutinized it up and down, he attempted not to panic and reiterated as smoothly as he possibly could—though it was rather rocky, now and then interrupted by a mortified squeak:

"You lost the quiz."

"I'm so sorry," Kairi cried, clasping her hands in front of her face now, turning a pleading grimace up to him, her normally bubbly eyes welling up with apologetic, rueful tears. "I'm so sorry, Sora! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me—"

"Ahh, Kairi..." Lips bit together in a sheepish frown, he grasped her bare forearms, pulling her fist down and trying to ease her crying. He hated to see her cry; it brought back memories he longed to stifle, feelings of blame he knew were wrong but still tried to eat at his conscience, plucking at his heartstrings ruthlessly. "Really, it's not that bad. It's alright. It's not the end of the world."

"That's not funny at all."

"I'm not trying to be funny...!"

"See, you are freaking out!"

"You're making me freak out!"

"Ohh, I'm so, so, so sorry Sora!"

"Would you please calm down? We're going to be—"

His sentence was finished by the mocking buzz of the second bell resounding throughout the halls and the authoritative wave of a council member with lunch-duty, about to blow the whistle on the pair by the lunch windows and jot them down for a demerit. Sora crouched down, heaving a frustrated sigh as he picked up the dropped tray. Kairi hovered above him, her plaid skirt dancing on her thighs as she hopped from foot to foot anxiously.

"I'm sor—"

"Go to class, Kairi," Sora forced a chuckle, offering a grin as he climbed back to his feet. His sloppy smile reassured her as he'd expected, and she fidgeted before waving hastily and jogging down the hall, clutching the straps of her backpack to keep it on her shoulders as she ran. The boy slid his dirty tray beneath the window, tipping a flick of the wrist at the woman behind the counter, and he took his time making it back to class. He had two more demerits until it equaled a detention, and this tardy would subtract that into one, but it was still a zone of safety. He didn't really mind detentions or demerits; after all the lunch-hours spent in the detention hall over the years, they were a period of innocuous, impish fun for him—especially when there was someone he knew in the room, such as the regular Tidus, or that one incident when he and Riku had gotten into a scuffle in the hallways and both had been given immediate detention slips. Riku had hated him for a week because of the trouble it got him into at home—information he stubbornly denied Sora no matter how much Sora begged to know—and then they were back to normal. He had been in fourth grade, Riku in fifth.

Recalling those innocent, carefree days as he trudged, ever so slowly, his eyes were wide and frantic, chest rolling with breathless respirations, and in his boyish chastity, he really did feel like the world was ending. Again.

"What? Sora? He's my best friend."

"Best friends are romantic!"

"I don't think he's into me like th—"

"I bet he likes me."

All eyes fell on Selphie and she smiled brightly, though not without a shadow of acidic, girlish iniquity. Kairi eyed her suspiciously, before questioning coolly, "How do you figure that?"

"Well," the brunette girl tilted her head to the side dreamily, "boys are dumb. They treat the girls they like really badly, teasing and yelling and just being mean to them. So he must really like me, hunh?"

The other girls laughed in agreement—Kairi threw back her head and laughed because she knew the truth. The days back on the island just stabilized the fact even more. Hooking her arms over her chest, she cocked a hip to the side, casting a rather incredulous look at the girl with the ridiculously flipped-up hair. She couldn't help that her gaze was completely condescending; she knew Sora better than anyone else—except Riku, and she was fine with that—and she wasn't going to keep that a secret. Especially not when it was a war against a high school bitch.

"Sora is different from other boys," Kairi had explained to them, close to tapping her foot in exasperation. These girls really were dimwits—she could comprehend now why Sora and Riku had been so reluctant to welcome her into their private friendship. Deep down, she hoped they didn't see her like such dumbasses.

"Oh? And you'd know?"

"I'm his best friend."

"No, Riku is his best friend."

"We're all best friends, Mena."

"Prove it."

All eyes fell upon Selphie yet again, queen bee of the hive. She peered at Kairi with a proud smile, slimy with the putrid conceit adolescent girls were so prone to house.

"Prove it?" Kairi repeated as if unsure.

"I bet that he won't kiss you within two weeks."

"That's stupid."

"After that, it's my turn to accept the bet."

Kairi stared, blown away by her friend's stealthy eyes. It was no wonder her own two best friends strove to keep a distance from this member of their gang until the lunch table filled at school. What was Selphie's sudden interest in Sora, anyway? A femininely territorial rage flowered in Kairi's chest, but it was something much more mature—nearly maternal. She would never let a whore like that near Sora; he belonged to better.

"Here," Selphie rummaged through her backpack, and then handed Kairi a sheet ripped out of a magazine, most likely CosmoGirl or some other slut-zine, "this might help."

"What is it?"

"A sex quiz."

"Hunh?"

"A sex quiz. See, it asks questions like 'Are you a virgin?', 'Do you touch yourself?', 'Do you know what necking means?', 'Have you ever played tonsil hockey?' and stuff like that."

This is horrible, Kairi wanted to protest, but instead she folded the resilient paper up and slipped it into her bag, glancing away shamefacedly for conceding to the bet. Sora was just too vulnerable—Selphie would fuck up his life for sure, and then Riku would fuck her life up because he was protective like that and ultimately not sexist with what came out of his mouth (Kairi knew this personally), and then Kairi would spread some rumors to help in the action as well. This wasn't a whore game she was playing; it was a high school heroine's struggle for purity.

"Two weeks. That means the last night I have for the bet is the back-to-school dance?"

"Yeah. It's a pretty easy contest if you ask me."

"But you're kind of a slut," Kairi replied calmly, blinking innocent eyes at Selphie's infuriated scowl. The other girls snorted in skeptical laughter, but nothing else was exchanged as plaid skirts fluttered and slender legs hurried their separate ways, uniform loafers clacking on linoleum and leather backpacks adorned with immaturities that made it seem as though someone had vomited up sparkles and cutesy-tootsy stickers.

She got him to take it one day after school, at her house. "Let's hang out," she had said, grabbing his hand and tugging him down the cobblestone before Riku emerged from the high school and captured Sora's attention. "We never hang out anymore," Kairi had insisted softly, and triumphantly tugged his heart in her direction. Giving her a grin, he'd raced her down the road after complying lightheartedly, "You're right. We'll snack at your house or something."

They sat in her living room, the windows open to allow in the cool ocean breeze, Kairi kneeling primly on one side of the coffee table and Sora cross-legged on the other, pencil in hand as he leaned forward, propped sloppily on his elbow, gnawing gingerly on his eraser while his wide, innocent eyes took in the contents of the sheet in front of him. She had already scolded him for being a clown and writing his name and the date on the sheet; "I'm not a teacher," she had mumbled, and he had laughed heartily. Little cardboard cartons of paopu juice sat next to a box of cookies on the coffee table, and Kairi's nervous, giggling excuse for the ludicrous snackage was that her mother and father still thought she was twelve. Sora had laughed and agreed, that his mother still wanted him to stay young as well.

"Do you want me to tell the entire truth?" he peeped after a moment, rather embarrassed and discomfited. Kairi shrugged, her own gaze mimicking the tweaked nerves. One juice was drained and the second half-empty, cookie crumbs scattered in a trail of guilt towards the brunette's side of the table.

"Well," Sora amended, "I trust you." And he circled the answer to the first question.

"Which one was that?"

"The virgin one."

"What's the next one?"

He replied as he marked the answer: "If I touch myself."

"What'd you put?"

"I-I—Kairi! That's private!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

Sora huffed a breath, and continued with a flustered pout and burning cheeks—it took him twenty minutes to finish off the thirty questions, and at that time he folded the paper so his answers were hidden and shoved the quiz back at her, his pout sharpening childishly. "There!"

The next day Kairi clenched the paper in her fingertips, standing outside the school building and waiting for Sora to arrive; this was unfair, she had decided, and she was going to give the quiz back to him so that it would all be right again. The bet was ridiculously wrong and rather immature, a womanly quest for protection of an innocent, naïve soul in the disguise of a boyfriend-snatcher—and if she was going to succeed, she'd do it her way. She'd make a plan of her own; she didn't need any slut's sex quiz, so Sora could keep it for his own purposes. If he had any. He could just throw it away if really wanted to. She hoped she would. Or maybe he'd have a passionate night with a soul mate some day in the future and extract the quiz to share his most intimate confessions with the girl because he trusted her with his entire being. That was romantic. Maybe she'd take her own quiz, too—

And that was when a strong zephyr ripped the marked quiz from her fist, taking it down the hill upon it's gusty shoulders.

Kairi stood stock-still, frozen with her hand still out and knuckles hooked, her eyes bugging and her glossy lips stretched into an "O" that might have been comical otherwise. She watched, shocked, as the sheet flitted down the hill, disappearing around a bend as her skirt and hair danced in the same rhythm. Unbeknownst to her, the sheet was soon caught against someone's chest, and a hand, garnished with a black wristband, plucked it away...