Dislciamer:Nope. I don't own any of KH, KH2.Nor do I own the poem in this, which also belongs to KH2.I only play the games, and write the stories with the characters that I don't own:D so don't sue me thanks!
Background: RikuRoxas request for Sky-Pirate-Tat. I actually completely rewrote the original version of this, and came out with a much shorter, yet in my opinion much better piece. Sorry it took so long to come out with something so short. It isn't very descriptive, one of those..thinking things i think. XD But I'm pretty happy with how it came out regardless. I hope it's alright anyway, enjoy.
The Masks We Wear
"It's not so bad."
Losing was a terrible feeling. It was something the silver haired youth had come to learn the hard way while climbing up the proverbial hill, the path broken and cracked with all of life's miseries. It was incredible he was able to stand so strong with the weight of his mistakes, as well as life's mistakes, weighing like a boulder, heavy on his heart.
But he had to stand, and he had endure. He couldn't lose. Not again anyway.
" I want to see him again.. I have to.."
But whatever gods there were, none of them seemed to be watching out for him, and day by passing day always crept by torturously slow in that wretched realm. Or—did they even pass at all? It was hard to tell. It was never day, so how could it have ever been night?
Be that as it may, however, his world wasn't the only thing enshrouded in perpetual darkness.
Thread by tiny thread his sanity unravels, and he tells himself this when the soft touch of lips brush against his own. His imagination? That touch—
"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. I just—"
"Uh..Eh hem..Don't worry about it. Lets just—pretend that never happened.."
The memory was fresh in his mind, and as the shadow withdrew, bringing that haunting touch with him, leather clad fingers of the silver haired teen would reach up to replace the feel of another's lips and he was instantly overtaken by those equally haunting images of a time he had once wanted desperately to forget, so he had, until then.
"I can't help it. I want to know. Why'd you do it?"
"..I don't know. I wanted to see what it was like, I guess.."
Strange, Riku thought, as he stared hatefully into the thick fabric blanketing a deep green gaze. It was strange that he had never thought of that time until that very moment, when his chest ached and burned with a newfound desire to see the friend he had been away from for so long. Why was it that we always missed what we cared about only when they were gone, again?
Sora? No, it isn't..
"Sora.." But he repeated the name anyway, lowly, emotionlessly, in response to the shadow's declaration and he was rewarded with the feel of rough leather against a pale cheek, a thumb lightly caressing soft skin.
"You're in my dreams, my memories, Riku."
Anger was the first response, an automatic defense against a false statement.
"They're not yours, Roxas. They're—"
Before Riku could elicit any more damage, Roxas silenced him, cutting off the passage for such venomous words by trapping him in a breath stealing kiss. Riku fell quiet.
"Do you like me?"
"Of course. You're my best friend."
"No, I mean—really like me?"
"Oh..Er..How could I? I really like Kairi, and..we're both.."
"Shut up, Sora."
For some reason, it was that painful memory that had been sparked by Roxas' kiss, and try as he might, no matter how hard he pulled to break away, no matter how much harder Roxas wouldn't let him, his hands digging into the coat of the older teen's shoulders, Riku couldn't block out those hurtful, stinging words.
But—So what? What was the problem with this? It was Sora..in a way.
And besides, Sora didn't want him. Why shouldn't he take the next best thing?
So what if Roxas was just a shell. So what if he couldn't even feel.
So what if Roxas wasn't Sora..
At least Riku hadn't lost again, not entirely anyway.
Pretending wasn't so bad.
"I love you, Riku."