I R ALIVE. Sad to say, my skills have not improved, jj's still a bad writer. WOE. Also, I have no new material; I just found this on the hard drive as I was cleaning up old files. This has a companion piece by the way, but it's lost, so… sorry? D: I'll look for that, or do major editing on this piece if it doesn't make sense at all.

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Warmth

It's cold, late in the afternoon. The sun is sinking, but its rays cannot pierce through the thick dark canopy of clouds – they render the sky a dreary, muddy-gray, lighter than the blackish ocean. There's a faint static in the air, warning of impending storms. Two figures walk along the beach, presumably to see the sunset, yet there will be no blaze of color, tonight. There won't even be stars.

It's cold, autumn-chilly, and the smaller one shivers as dead leaves swirl in the breeze, rustling, crackling as the brush past his face. He's not wearing gloves, or even a sweater, and he shuffles his footsteps faster, moving closer to his companion, who is straight-backed and steadfast, staring at the sea, seemingly immune to the cold and unmindful of the gray.

Sora does not know why he invited Riku out today.

It's cold.

He steps up to Riku; puts his arms around his friend's chest and buries his face in the crook of Riku's neck, breathing deeply. His hands come together, directly above Riku's heart, and he feels fingers ghost over his, hesitating, then covering his own in a gesture of acknowledgement. Feels the rhythm of a heartbeat below his palm, steady and slow and there.

Once upon a time there was a boy, bright and strong and beautiful and held in high esteem by everyone who beheld him. He was like the hero prince in legends, larger than life, and that's how I saw him because he blinded me, me who was too young (too enthralled with the fairytales mother told) to see the unsatisfaction and insecurity simmering behind his eyes, that he was a kid, too, naïve and unsure of how to take our admiration - except to let it feed his arrogance. He was my best friend, you know.

And I wanted to be just like him.

"Hey," Riku says, a bit tickled perhaps, but he does not flinch; does not jerk away. "What's up?"

I wanted to be just like you.

"Nothing…" Sora murmurs, nuzzling into silver hair, taking in the scents of mint and cotton and Riku's girly shampoo, and trying not to think of how nice this feels. Or how new. "Just the wind."

I could never reach your level, though. I tried, but you were always superior, and after some time I accepted it as natural. I didn't like it, but you were better in everything so I thought you'd always be right. It never occurred to me that you might have weaknesses, that you might be wrong, that being better than anyone else wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

I never thought that maybe you were lonely, because weren't we together all the time?

I chased and chased (but did I really try, did I truly think I could reach) but you were always ahead and all I could see as your back, and didn't notice that I – we – were losing you. Didn't see the distance getting bigger. Then you were gone, and I realized how much I'd missed you.

"Cold?"

"Mmmm… not anymore."

"No?"

"Nope."

He snuggles deeper, forgetting things like propriety and personal boundaries because this is Riku, finally, here and now and solid and warm, and from now on Sora's making sure he won't be left behind. Not anymore. He's going to hold on with all he's got. And Riku's not protesting, not at all.

It's not like I didn't mind being behind you all the time, because I did, because you had to run ahead and prove yourself (even when you never needed to) and I couldn't catch up…

Things are different now, Riku is different and what Sora sees is a boy-turning-man, not the hero figure who couldn't wrong, not Riku the shining ideal; but Riku – pretty (though he hates being called that) strong and graceful (he hates that, too) more sure of himself, less angry, less frustrated but still restless, sometimes. Who never gets sick of yellow vests with way too many zippers, who screeches when you put a pair of scissors anywhere near his hair, who hates losing, who calls other people 'saps' even as he piles on the melodrama, who polishes his keyblade with shoe shiners, who likes to brood until he works up a mini-depression.

Who's just human, who makes mistakes. Who's free to be forgiven. Sora's done chasing after him, and he won't let Riku get away again, but he thinks he'll stay a little behind, instead of stepping right beside. When his thoughts aren't as jumbled, when things have settled down, maybe they can…

…I thought we were closer than anyone else, but I wasn't really seeing you, was I, maybe I was seeing the Riku I thought was there, and when your back was turned I shouldn't have ignored it.

But from now on…

"Riku?"

For now, Sora's still sorting everything out. He's not going to let Riku get away anymore. But Sora thinks that maybe, for now, he'll stay a little behind. That way, Sora will be there to catch him if he falls.

"Yeah?"

"…your back is warm."

I'm gonna come closer, to reachtouchfeel, I'm gonna breach that distance instead of keeping away.

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End

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Anyway, (as evidenced by my pathetic pleas for recs) I'm primarily a reader, not a writer, so I want to thank everybody who recced me goodfic. I love you. And I'll keep on loving you. And I'll love you even more if you keep on doing so

Also, lookit this nifty site: prillalar(dot)com(slash)drabbles(slash) It's a drabble generator, and such fun! Here's an example! (I don't advise you to post your results as actual "stories" on ffnet, though. Since you didn't really write them and all. XD)

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Panic-filled Love

Riku finished packing. Ever since Sora, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Riku had been slippery.

There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing drop-kicked him, all was grossly green-tinged. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going beyond the brilliant blue sky to become a pedantic strawberries.

Just then, there was an arousing knock at the door. Riku opened it and stood there gleefully for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his hair.

When Riku came to, Sora was holding his eyeball and looking sedentary.

"My love," Sora said angstily, "I'm sorry for the sexy shock. I've been shipwrecked on a meteor island for the last ten years, living as sly as the enigmatic half-smile of an Egytptian sphinx. I was only rescued last week." He paused. "I lost my toenails in the wreck. Can you still love me?"

Riku could hardly believe his Sora had returned. "I will always love you, toenails or no toenails. Besides, you can cover it up with a desk."

They embraced gracelessly and vowed to never be parted again.

And all was sticky.