Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the game Kingdom Hearts or any of the Fatal Frame series. I am not making a profit off this. I am writing this to improve my skills and to express my love for the characters.

Final Reality
By Tat Claire Kokoro

/Deep underground, I kept digging a hole
Without knowing where it would lead
With a dirt-covered eyepiece in one hand
I searched for you arm
Scaping together patchwork happiness, and sowing it,
I was crushed by your strength/
-Fatal Frame 2: Crimson Butterfly (Theme Song)


/ "Are you leaving me? Again?" The voice, so sensual, beautiful, and at the same time . . . horrifying. It rang through Sora's ears as he passed by a cloudy mirror. He looked over his shoulder, hoping he was just imagining things. The brunette shrugged and continued down the hall.

"I don't want to be alone."

There it was again, only this time, in a whisper. A chill went down Sora's spine and he dared to look behind him. A hand reached out from the mirror, then another. Slowly, a figure walked out of the looking glass. It was a teenage boy, his silvery-blue hair cut in layers framing his angelic face. He wore plaid pants and a white button down collar shirt and tie, a High School Uniform.

Sora stood in place, his fear numbed his body, he searched for escape but could find none. He was cornered. The boy from the mirror neared, a half smile adorned his pretty face.

The space soon closed between them, the silver haired one perked up Sora's chin, his void blue eyes meeting bright ocean blue. He wet his lips, and then smiled wickedly. Sora whimpered when his lips met his "attacker's", he ached to be closer but also yearned to run away./

The alarm pulled Sora from his nightmare. Sweat drenched and aroused, he gave himself a disgusted look when he found that he had a woody (possibly from the nightmare). His mother called from downstairs that breakfast was ready and he responded with the usual excuse, "just a minute."

He waited until his sexual tension calmed and slipped out of bed and in his slippers. After a few stretched, Sora went down stairs for breakfast. His mother had her back turned as she fixed their plates and turned off the stove.

Sora yawned, "Good morning."

"Morning, dear. Sleep well?"

"No. I had a bed dream."

"Again? Is it the same one?"

Sora cringed as he recollected the dream. "The same."

His mother set a plate of food in front of him, it was his favorite, scrambled eggs mixed with cheese and French Toast. He picked up his fork, piercing a morsel of egg and stared at it, the dream replaying in his mind. "Mom. Can we move?"

"Sora, I've told you before, there are no such things as ghosts."

"I know, but. . ." he frowned, playing with his food. /Something is wrong with this house's atmosphere . . ./

The doorbell ringed, echoing throughout the house. "Honey, could you get that?"

Sora set his fork down, and walked down the hall to the door. He peered through the window, and then opened the door.

A girl, her short red hair tied in small pigtails held by violet ribbons entered the house. She wore a purple knee-length skirt and a white tank top along with a pair of simple white thongs. Tucked in the crook of her arm was a large, brown envelope.

"You're here early."

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Sora shook his head, "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just came to show you what I found."

"Are you serious?" Sora's eyes widened.

The red head nodded, "it's not much . . .but it's enough."

Sora grabbed her hand and rushed upstairs, forgetting to close the door. His mother called from downstairs about something but Sora wasn't paying attention. They plopped on the bed, the large envelope between them. They both stared at it, debating on who should have the honor-or burden of opening it.

"You open it, Kairi."

She shook her head, "no. I might see that picture again."

"There's a picture?"

"Uh-huh. A picture of that boy . . . who you know. . ." She adverted her eyes, not daring to say the brutal word.

"Is he ugly?" Sora teased.

She shook her head, her ribbons dancing along with her hair, "he's actually beautiful. It's his eyes that give me the creeps."

"Okay, fine. . ." Sora sighed and opened the envelope, "I'll open it."

From the envelope, Sora pulled out a stack of papers and news clippings. The words that took Sora's attention first were "Teen Commits Suicide, Parents Grieve". He flipped through the information; all of the papers had the word "suicide" somewhere in the jumble of letters and sentences.

"You don't mind if I read while you're here, do you?"

Kairi shrugged, "go ahead." She turned away, not wishing to see the articles again.

Sora dived into the material, interested and scared, but he had to know . . . He had to know if his dreams about the teenaged boy and the mirror were rubbish or a surreal reality. In the midst of his reading, a photograph caught his eyes. It was a picture of a boy older than him, sitting on a bench, staring straight into the camera with his slanted melancholy eyes. His hair was cut in long layers around his face and went a little past his shoulders. He wore a high collared Chinese styled shirt and tailored pants. "That's him. . ." Sora whispered.

He looked at the caption underneath the picture, "A most recent photograph of Riku C. Fitzwilliam"

"Riku. . ." The name flowed beautifully from his mouth but gave him shivers. "Why would anybody kill themselves?"

Kairi handed Sora a picture, "this would explain his reason."

Another chill went down his spine upon looking at the picture. It was a portrait of another boy, the same age as Sora. The first thing you noticed was his bright eyes and smile, revealing a care-free, optimistic attitude about life. His hair was short and unruly, styled in thick spikes-like Sora.

"He's . . . me?" Sora though he was about to choke.

"Looks like you, doesn't he? That boy, in that picture, that was his best friend."

Sora lay in bed, the covers pulled over his face to hide from the spirit. He thought about the boy, who was his spitting image, he wondered what he was like. Was he really as cheerful as his portrait showed? Or was he as gloomy as his friend?

One thing he was sure about was the nature of the pair's relationship. Their intimacy was more than friendship. They were once lovers. Sora's mind wandered on this, trying to figure out if his "double" had dumped Riku or if he died. And did Riku ever get to say, "I love you"?

"Riku. . ." He whispered the name and soon regretted it. Simply saying the spirit's name was like telling him/"Come here. I came back . . .Riku. Riku. . ." /

/ The chocolate brown haired boy walked down the hall towards the cloudy mirror. He wanted to turn back, but his feet continued towards the place he wished to avoid.

"You came back."

"No. Not me. . ."

The spirit didn't seem to listen or want to. "We'll be together, forever."

Sora pressed the palm of his hands on the glass, on the other side, a pair of hands met his. His deep blue eyes met vacant pools of aquamarine, "Riku." Riku pulled him through the mirror, into the world where nothing was real, only an elaborate fabrication. Their fingers were laced together, two lost pieces of a puzzle finally reunited.

Kisses littered Sora's body, leaving him cold and numb. Pieces of his clothing plummeted to the floor and his purity along with it. He loosened Riku's tie and undid the buttons. His hands shook as he pulled Riku's shirt off, revealing a muscular build and rope marks etched around his neck. Sora's throat tightened, he eyed the rope marks cautiously, his heart was screaming for escape.

Rikus' lips met his, demanding him to initiate in the kiss, reluctantly, Sora played along, his moans and whimpers merging with the dark. His body ached to be worshipped by Riku, but his soul felt otherwise. Without thinking about it he moved into the touched, he returned the affection. He felt like he was someone else, unable to hold back the caresses, the gasps, and the pleasure building inside of him.

Sora squeezed Riku's hand, tears brimming from the corners of his eyes. "Please . . . let me go." The words were on the tip of his tongue yet he broke into tears. He broke into pieces.

"I love you." Is that Sora said in the end, succumbing to the darkness. Those words didn't mean anything to him. They had simply ran from his mouth without thought, without real feeling.

Riku smiled, "I love you."

"Promise we'll be together. . ." Sora kissed his cheek innocently. He was trapped in the illusion. ". . . Forever."

"I promise." Pale arms wrapped around his victim. "Together . . . forever."/

The scent of flowers and the sound of the heart monitor filled the hospital room. A teenaged boy, dressed in a hospital gown and covered by thin covers lay in the bed. His eyes closed, entangled in another world.

Kairi sat next to his bed, she put her hand over his, hoping he would respond. "Please, open your eyes. Sora."

No use. Too late.

His eyes remained shut in eternal sleep, his soul severed from the bonds of reality.

/"He belongs to me. . ."/


Author's Notes: I've had this idea for awhile but I didn't have much time to spare to work that hard on it. Vanir pestered me about it though and in the end me and my muse negotiated. I would write this one-shot but my deadline would be in 24 hours. I picked a pretty bad day to write this too. I spent most of Christmas Eve writing this and in between I would open presents and chit-chat with family. (I think me writing all day annoyed my mom.) Somehow, I did it. It took me 21 hours to write this and though this may not be my best work I'm proud of myself because I could pull it off in a short amount of time.

A lot of the ghost references were slightly inspired by the Fatal Frame series. This is because I was daydreaming about the game and remembering the cut-scene where Kirie comes out of the mirror and chases Miku. Then I started to think about Riku. . . an odd combo, yes.

I know grammar isn't my thing and though I can't see the mistakes I know they're there somewhere so I apologize. While we're on the subject, I need a new beta reader. If you're up to the job email me at: SkyPirateTat for taking the time to read this. Compliments and polite constructive criticism is appreciated.

Watashi no ai, Tat Claire Kokoro