Title: Faraway, So Close

Author: Zalia Chimera
Pairing: RikuxRoxas, mention of RikuXSora
Rating: R-ish
Notes: Title taken from the U2 song, Stay (Faraway, So Close!). Written as a challenge fic during a chat.

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for KH2. Don't read if you haven't played at least up until Sora's introduction in the game.

Hope you like!


Roxas was different. Riku truly believed that, making it an almost mantra, repeated over until it barely meant anything anymore. Roxas wasn't him, wasn't anything like him really. All Riku had to do was look and it was obvious. Hair and eyes and demeanour, all were wrong. Too wrong. Roxas wasn't him.

He was just a shadow, an echo, a poor copy with none of what made Sora himself. Nothing. Nobody.

Riku believed that, he had to.

He was just proving it, that was all, when his lips met Roxas'. Proving a point. They were nothing alike. Sora tasted like sea salt and fruit and clean air. Roxas was mist and cobwebs and Riku could ignore the faint ocean tang because it was just coincidence.

Roxas knocked his hands away when he reached to tug down the zipper of the too large black coat, watching him with cool blue eyes. So different from Sora who had blushed and squirmed and made a game of it. Riku pretended not to see the faint red tinge on Roxas' cheeks, they way his fingers lingered on the zip like Sora's had the first time.

Every movement was a challenge with Roxas, a test; of Riku or of himself, Riku was never quite sure. With Sora, it had always been a game, hide and seek or tag or follow the leader. Children's games with childish joy.

And he pushed the memory of Sora's battle stance, so similar to Roxas' challenge, from his mind, concentrating on revealed curves, planes of muscle and pale skin.

Riku bit his lip, suppressing the shiver that passed through him when Roxas' fingers brushed against his own for a moment; refusing to be pulled down, but settling anyway, always a contradiction.

The bed was too narrow; no-one expecting to ever need to share in this place. Why would a Nobody need Somebody?

But Riku remembered furtive kisses pressed together in tiny boats, desperate teenaged fumblings in bedrooms with the ever present threat of parents. A narrow bed was almost familiar, almost comforting.

Skin against skin, lips against lips, that was how it always started. Be it sundrenched Island or fractured castle, it was always the same.

His fingers tangled in Roxas' hair, mussing soft spikes in a gesture as familiar as breathing. Lapped salt sweat from the hollow of his throat and sensed the power beneath his skin, the hum of weapons awaiting the call.

Like him, like Sora.

Tight heat and soft skin and hot lips. So difficult to keep one separate from another. So easy to see one set of clear blue eys in place of another.

Roxas moaned like him, even though Riku hated himself for the admission. His voice soft at first, but rising, feral growl growing inside it, still challenging, even now. Like Sora, like the way he always fought for kingship of their island, silly, childish games that meant nothing and meant everything.

Roxas stiffened, silenced, as he came, sticky fluid spattering against Riku's stomach. Riku moved still, pressing hard into the pliant body, burning himself onto that skin as if he could brand it with that alone. Roxas' lips brushed his, tongue tip flicking out to taste, a skittish gesture and Riku came, burying his face into the boy's shoulder, too familiar scent burning his nose with it's intensity.

For a moment, he was back on the Destiny Islands, blissfully oblivious of Heartless and Nobodies and Keyblades. Just the sand and the sea and Sora curling against him, drowsy and comfortable.

He felt fingers in his hair, stroking, and relaxed fractionally at the soothing touch. Sora's fingers, Roxas' fingers. He couldn't tell which anymore. Muffled breath against his neck and he was pulled down, held in strong arms, keyblade calloused fingers tracing his chest absently.

He turned into the warmth, island nights could be chilly and he shouldn't let Sora get cold. True blue eyes met his, hint of a curve of a smile on those lips, and he thought that he saw a spark of the islands there; true joy appearing from behind Roxas' too old, too pained eyes.
And they weren't the same at all, not really. Not really.

Roxas' arms tightened around him and he thought he smelled the sun.