KH2 Fiction: Riku, Sora Pg, Dead Fic
Aug. 12th, 2006 10:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciirceeIt's that time again, kiddies.
Cleaning out the old fic bin and getting rid of the stuff that I just can't use or haven't touched in for-fricking-ever. Not much actually in there worth deleting (so far). But I DO have this...thing and I KNOW I'm not going to go anywhere with it.
So, what is this? Just some spoiler-for-the-end-of-KH2 stuff.
Riku is used to the cold. Well, not quite. He is resigned to the cold. Resigned to the raw, high chill being wrapped around him like a second skin; just like he is resigned to knowing that the dull, milky-white circle that rises and sets in the sky is the sun, not the moon. No matter what Sora wants to call it.
"It's cold," Sora mutters, the hard point of his chin digging painfully into Riku's collarbone.
No shit, he thinks, but he's too tired to be rude. "Uh huh," he says, sliding one arm out from under their makeshift blanket (very makeshift, but not so much a blanket. Just Sora's jacket and his vest zipped together) to lay his hand over Sora's head. Something he remembers from school: you lose most of your heat through your head. He lets his fingers card once through the tangles. The arms around his chest tighten fractionally as the shivers ripple from the one to the other. "You wanna roll over?" Riku makes himself ask. He's so tired but Sora is so cold…
Sora shakes his head, still cradled under Riku's hand, and says, "No. I hate it when we sleep that way."
Riku hates everything about the way they sleep. He hates the hard floor of this shadowed version of the Secret Place and he hates the rough wall they huddle against because the Secret Place always did lack a corner. He despises the lack of even a halfway useful blanket and even more the fact that they've got to sleep in their clothes. He's sick of this island, with its too-sharp grass that'd be too sharp to sleep on even if it weren't Twilight (because sea grass is sharp edged like razors anyhow) and he's sick of the half-sleep that Sora manages because it's too cold to sleep deeply. He hates the fact that he can't do anything to give Sora any warmth because Sora won't let him.
"Yeah, well," Riku mutters. If he weren't so worn out from this place, he'd flip Sora over so that he faced the stupid wall, and he'd curl up around behind him and shed their blanket onto him and make him be warm(er). Sora would only fight back, anyhow. Still…the sun will be up in a few hours. They might be able to stay awake and on their feet that long. "Spar?" he asks. Sparring will keep the cold at bay, but they can't stop unless they're under the sun. The sun isn't warm—it only brings an absence of the cold—but it doesn't steal away the warmth of straining muscles the way the night does.
"No," Sora says on a shivery yawn. "You're crazy if you think we can manage it."
"Think positive?"
Sora snuffles a laugh into his shoulder and his breath warms wherever it reaches.
Cleaning out the old fic bin and getting rid of the stuff that I just can't use or haven't touched in for-fricking-ever. Not much actually in there worth deleting (so far). But I DO have this...thing and I KNOW I'm not going to go anywhere with it.
So, what is this? Just some spoiler-for-the-end-of-KH2 stuff.
Riku is used to the cold. Well, not quite. He is resigned to the cold. Resigned to the raw, high chill being wrapped around him like a second skin; just like he is resigned to knowing that the dull, milky-white circle that rises and sets in the sky is the sun, not the moon. No matter what Sora wants to call it.
"It's cold," Sora mutters, the hard point of his chin digging painfully into Riku's collarbone.
No shit, he thinks, but he's too tired to be rude. "Uh huh," he says, sliding one arm out from under their makeshift blanket (very makeshift, but not so much a blanket. Just Sora's jacket and his vest zipped together) to lay his hand over Sora's head. Something he remembers from school: you lose most of your heat through your head. He lets his fingers card once through the tangles. The arms around his chest tighten fractionally as the shivers ripple from the one to the other. "You wanna roll over?" Riku makes himself ask. He's so tired but Sora is so cold…
Sora shakes his head, still cradled under Riku's hand, and says, "No. I hate it when we sleep that way."
Riku hates everything about the way they sleep. He hates the hard floor of this shadowed version of the Secret Place and he hates the rough wall they huddle against because the Secret Place always did lack a corner. He despises the lack of even a halfway useful blanket and even more the fact that they've got to sleep in their clothes. He's sick of this island, with its too-sharp grass that'd be too sharp to sleep on even if it weren't Twilight (because sea grass is sharp edged like razors anyhow) and he's sick of the half-sleep that Sora manages because it's too cold to sleep deeply. He hates the fact that he can't do anything to give Sora any warmth because Sora won't let him.
"Yeah, well," Riku mutters. If he weren't so worn out from this place, he'd flip Sora over so that he faced the stupid wall, and he'd curl up around behind him and shed their blanket onto him and make him be warm(er). Sora would only fight back, anyhow. Still…the sun will be up in a few hours. They might be able to stay awake and on their feet that long. "Spar?" he asks. Sparring will keep the cold at bay, but they can't stop unless they're under the sun. The sun isn't warm—it only brings an absence of the cold—but it doesn't steal away the warmth of straining muscles the way the night does.
"No," Sora says on a shivery yawn. "You're crazy if you think we can manage it."
"Think positive?"
Sora snuffles a laugh into his shoulder and his breath warms wherever it reaches.
