blur

disclaimer: I do not own kingdom hearts.

Silver bullets. Glistening moonbeams. The epitome of her tears.

The rain.

It's an ugly thing, it's a beautiful thing, melded in a world where butterflies create hurricanes and the seagulls in the sky turn into doves. It's ugly when she cries and it replaces them, masquerading her sadness for the cold and isolating her from the world. It's beautiful the way it drenches her hair together to form ringlets and makes her appear like a goddess in the damp wilderness.

But he is always reminded of how her footsteps splash into the puddles, slowly rising and falling like a new born baby bird beginning to fly and watch everything in slow motion, like the moment when someone is thrown off a cliff, and the outstretched hand that nearly reaches you is missed by a fraction of a second and millimetres apart.

And down he tumbles, like a bird that has lost his feathers and the ability to fly, plummeting from the clouds that he dared to touch. Arms outstretched, he attempts to find-- balance, land, her --something.

When had he originally fallen?

When he had first saw her-- red, fresh, young, beautiful --Kairi? He had knocked Sora off the pier, just to make sure that she saw him, only him. Of course, he had later said to Sora that his hand slipped and had inadvertently pushed him off, but that was a different story.

Take my hand. He says. Do you trust me?

Butterflies and hurricanes. Castles and clouds. Magic and illusions.

Look left. Look right. Hear the cries of the seagulls and butterflies, flittering in their own little world, spinning different webs of happiness and beauty. Feel the rain that slides on your skin and through your thick eyelashes. It's not tears. It's not.

And so you take his hand with a soft smile, trembling as you realize that it fits like a pair of gloves.

You wonder why that frightens you so much, even though you try not to show it.

(But you should know better; he's always been able to look through you.)

Hey. It's okay. I promise.

… his hand is warm against your cold skin and he places it near his heart.

You wonder why your heart speeds up one two three.

I trust you, Riku.

He smiles, and it feels like dawn has come and made his skin grow alight in hues of red and orange and blue, to match the colours of his eyes and the shape of his cheeks.

Thank you.

His arms are around your waist, and somehow while it's not Sora-- sunny, safe, smiley Sora --there's an odd relief in you.

Closing the distance between you, if you stop breathing and act like a pretty marionette that rests on the top shelf of your room-- seen and not forgotten even if you barely give it a second glance --you can fall into his embrace and touch his mouth.

But you don't.

You see his smile, dancing just on the tip of his lips, barely crooked, but it's still there and you're closer than ever, fragile like the seashells you collect in that plastic green bucket, and oh, it's wonderful--

And he falls from the pier, and you fall along with him, still in his arms, wrapped in his hug, hands still entwined with his, the rain lightly sprinkling on your skin, as soft as butter melting on your mouth.

And just before you collide into the currents, into the sand and sea water, you swear, you swear--

Like angels in flight, he kisses you, soft like butterflies and clouds and illusions.

But this is no illusion.

When you submerge, completely soaked with a smile on your face, your hand still held in his.

Fire crackles, warming their toes and adds flickers of light to their face in the dark. They share a blanket, cotton and scratchy and just like adventurers share in movies and books and maybe even travel brochures. Riku is talking, but Kairi's not listening, her head in the clouds where dragons and angels should be, flying so impossibly high that when her grace falls and she's got nothing else to cling to, Riku's still there.

Hey. How many stars do you think there are, up there? He looks up, glancing at the impenetrable sky, darkened with mystery and sparkly trinkets spread out as far the eye can see. Five? Ten? Fifty?

I don't know. Kairi replies, leaning in to him and stealing the blanket just a bit more. Locks of red hair tumble onto his shoulder, soft like honey as it spills like a drop of water into the ocean.

Do you miss it? He asks the question so offhandedly, like he doesn't even care, but she can see the spiral in his iris and she knows him better than that.

Riku you goof, how can I miss it when I don't remember it? She hits him lightly, his shoulders shake like he's crying, but in reality he's laughing and she can't help but join him, because together they make music more beautiful than the sky.

And silver strands, like the rain, slide through her red tresses, blending into a kaleidoscope that twists and turns into a different kind of rainbow.

I guess you're right. But it doesn't stop him from looking up into the sky once more, and she loves the way the moon and the flickering fire control the way he looks, as if he is an ethereal creature made of moonshine and moondust, so fragile and delicate but still there beside her, unwashed by the rising tide that gently hums back and forth, swaying like the trees up above them.

Silly. I'm always right.

A smile creeps up on his face and a mischievous glint sparkles in his eyes as he meets hers. Well. Some could argue with that.

Ri-ku.

Yeah, yeah, I know, Kairi. He ruffles her hair and her mouth quirks into a pout and grin at all once.

Now, come on. Let's eat these marshmallows. Scooting closer towards him, she hands him a raspberry marshmallow, just a shade lighter than her skin and if she gasps while his fingers brush against her skin, she hopes he didn't hear her.

The vanilla marshmallow that melts on her tongue tastes just like Riku from so long ago.

The rain hides so many things. Tears, fears, pain.

Me.

I see them, the sunshine boy and the sunlight girl. I see how she twirls her umbrella on her shoulder, not caring if droplets slip and sprinkle her nose. She's dancing, walking in the air while remaining still, and he's smiling and laughing along with her, not quite taking her hand but regardless, the signs are there. And they look happy, as if she's about to offer him her umbrella, though she's never done the same to me.

Even if--

Even though… he's not here all the time, she still… after… after all… after everything… she still chooses Sora.

I should not be feeling this heartbreak; I am just a friend lost in distilled droplets of darkened rain. I should not feel this regret. I should not feel.

… I should go.

So I call the rain, instead of the darkness.

And I walk away, knowing that I won't hear her footsteps in the rain, calling out my name.

Because she's happy with her prince charming who is never there.

Two strangers by a bus stop. A connection is made between the drops that fall between them.

Bubblegum pink and turquoise blue.

Hey there, what's your name? She says; amethyst eyes too wide for her pretty face and red hair. She leans out, still as thin as those china dolls that now reside neatly in a cardboard box, far too old for things like that. She wears a purple bob hat, oddly framed and oddly fitting. An umbrella rests on her delicate shoulders, spinning and spinning and spinning once more.

Riku. The silver haired inclines his head; moonbeam locks of hair slide down his face and allows him to see her clearly. His knows this stranger though he would swear that he does not. Rain has decorated a pattern of loss and sorrow on his face, and it shows on the tip of his tongue.

I knew a Riku once. She says, looking up at the sky, as if she can find the star that he has landed on.

Well, aren't you glad that I'm not him? A grin wryly quirks onto his face, because he knows, he knows, he knows and he is willing to maintain this charade as long as she is within arm's reach and doesn't realize it's him.

But she knows him better than that. And he knows her better than that.

There's the thing, see – I think you are him. When he looks at her and meets her eyes, they don't dare to look away. So she continues, breaking the silence with eyes that seem to be glimmering in moonbeams, asking in a softer, quieter voice. Why'd you go?

Words die on his lips as he confides in the silence and the spatter of rain that soaks his hair, but then he's never cared for umbrellas like she has.

… I just had to. He breaks the contact, crawling back into his shell where nobody can reach him but her.

I looked everywhere for you. She persists, placing a hand on his shoulder.

And he realizes that she's so much closer than she's supposed to be, and if she gets any closer, then gasp one two three it'll be like that plummet in the sea where he wished that he'd never let go.

But what about Sora, Kairi? The words slip out before he realizes and he wonders, wonders, wonders when she actually started sheltering him from the rain even though he can feel her tears falling down his face, taste them, even, because she's so close that he can count her eyelashes--

What about him? He's not you. And I--

Gasp choke breathe breathe-- lips touch and it's like trying out the combination of raspberry and vanilla marshmallows for the very first time.

--and he's never wanted to see his princess cry.

His hands are tangled up in her soft cherry red hair and her arms are around his neck and his hair and-- and this time, he won't be able to let go of her.

Stay with me.

They have all the time in the world because they're not going anywhere in a hurry.

I want to be with you.

And the umbrella is left to collect the memories that drew them together in the rain.