from the field where the cotton is picked, a kingdom hearts fanfic

from the field where the cotton is picked

Roxas creased the paper. Folded it clean in hard-pressed thirds with the flattest part of his thumbnail.

Eight days. For eight days he'd marked decora from September 19th to 26th on the crazy-industrial Economy paper he'd mounted to his oven door with several rounds of silver-black duct-tape. The red ink crosses on his over-large catalogue counted out the days until his results where printed, stamped, and mailed. It had been a right-comic joke between them.

White-water eyes brushed back to his letter.

Crucifixes weren't funny anymore.

Roxas dug his phone. Punched quick dial #2—#1 was reserved for the clinic—and settled into an anxious wait.

It rang all of twice.

"Hey."

Riku was tired; weary like the browbeaten skin-crumples that had begun their own quiet congregation at his mouth.

Fleeting, Roxas mused if he, too, had bloodied up a calendar; worried his hair to an even deeper slate.

"Mm."

There came a synthetic scrambling. The plastic film from some Oodles-a-Noodles had probably just been slit.

"You, um." Roxas flattened his letter. Pursed his lips and eyed his verdict. "You got a minute?"

Riku set away his meal. Styrofoam made static on the nightstand.

"It came today."

The unemotional silence was enough confirmation for Riku.

"Roxas. Ah. ... I'm sorry."

written for eljay's 30confessions.
roxas has AIDS. it's an implied confession.