KHII: In the Flurry of an Eyelash

[Pollen]

in the flurry of an eyelash
by ~isho, fanfiction.net

Disclaimer: Uh do people still have to do this lol.

And this is after Kingdom Hearts II I guess, um, it's just a silly one-shot that I continued from this introduction I originally wrote for a roleplay (of which failed at life lmao), and it has no point really. Just a small window to the after-effects of the Heartless but I'm too lazy to write more whee.

- x -

There is a forty year old oak outside this house that has seen more sliding glass, jeans scraped open at the knees, more sleepy awkward kisses in the middle of the night, than any other tree on the block. A boy likes to perch on its highest boughs when it’s ten to three in the morning, his fingers gripping a branch that has been polished to a coarse finish by the touch of one hand night after night, while the other knocks beseechingly on the window – knock, knock.

Time is always a strain, but Sora is pious in his trust, and a nimble tree-climber at that. On a windy night like this the window should open with a low E flat when the air siphons through, and the familiar smell of something muzzy, a body warm and woolly from sleep, should come up to the window soon, receiving him with varying degrees of hospitality. His senses are perpetually overstimulated, every faculty honed in on the reaction to one knock on the window, two knocks.

“Jesus man, open up.”

He whispers in a newly endowed baritone, body craning as far as the balancing act with allow. Sora’s parka makes swishy noises when he moves, and underneath is the rumpled white t-shirt he sleeps in, along with a pair of cotton pants. From here he can see the minor island, spotless horizon, and the window is still closed as it has always been, even after six years – Sora supposes he has missed out on one of said six, but it has always been closed anyway, just to spite him. But here, the tableau: winter accompanied by clusters on the end of each branch, a boy returning back to traditional rituals by climbing up a tree and rapping on a window, each deliberate, escorted onto glass by quiet and wishful waiting. And he’s grown a little shrewder over the years, so he doesn’t think that Riku is asleep at all. Usually when the window opens, the result is Scrabble: common fact that they never do what they want to do, it’s just the way it is.

This is how it should be, but so far, only cold air.

And this is Sora, ex-Keyblade wielder who is too impatient to fish and too stubborn to stop, a specimen of the doe-eyed brown-haired simpleton variety. Sora who gets wet by the sea no matter how far up he rolls his sleeves and who still plans on building that raft would risk his backbone to climb the tree that oversees one silhouette in the dark.

He tries again, rapping his knuckles against the glass: one— two— no more than three, because he doesn’t want to sound too demanding. It’s dark inside and they’ve just gotten back, not nearly settled in; he considers that maybe just today the window won’t open at all.

But in the flurry of an eyelash there is silver in the midst, and a tired but startled figure raises leaden arms to let in air and count one wide-eyed boy into the room. Riku rubs the sleep away from his eyes and sees Sora standing there akin to the presence of an ethereal and unusual dream; he had thought that his friend would have forgotten about it – he almost had. With return home overwhelming, Riku welcomes the inclusive and goes back to a bed gone a year without a body to warm, and although he had the gentle pushing feeling of something coming, it did not occur so consciously blatant, so he lays down in bed happy and without recollection.

‘Hey,’ he forces out, feet bare against cold timber.

Sora grimaces and it comes out before he can stop it, but he doesn’t even bother to cover it up with a smile. ‘Oh … hi.’ His reply is all at once condemning and devastating – this is the only time Riku has really forgotten, and Sora can tell.

‘Yeah.’

‘I figured that I’d come over since— you know, before—’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Dark depths ensnared and mercury rising: he knew.

‘D-do you want me to leave? Because I can if you want.’

‘No, it’s okay.’

Silence falls again – Riku is here, drowsy, and Sora is there, awkward. The floor squeaks a little when Riku shifts his weight from one foot to another and he winces as if the noise is a mistake. But the absolute quiet is at the same time craved and not wanted, but in commonplace it is heavy, unmoveable, so it’s not as if he has any say in the matter. Instead he kneels down and digs his hand deep under the bed until his fingertips catch onto something cardboard and dusty, drags it out into the open air.

‘What do you think?’ Riku chuckles and hands the box to Sora, that little piece of some unbelievable legacy where there had been no darkness and nothing to fear. ‘I used to whip you in this.’

Sora’s eyes brighten up; he exhales a breath and blows away the dust from the lid even though he already knows what it is. ‘Scrabble! I can’t believe you still have it.’ He considers that maybe Riku hasn’t forgotten about this whole situation at all – he still has the game, doesn’t he? The thought is read as clear as day from his face and Riku releases the tense on his shoulders: at least he hasn’t managed to let down his friend so early in the game, no pun intended. Sora sits down cross-legged on the floor, and he follows suit.

The game is unpacked and they play absent-mindedly: there is something foreign and unusual lingering in the air, something Riku supposes that Sora must have brought with him. When he asks Riku if he can stay the night, he agrees before he has time to think about it, and it doesn’t seem to worry him that he hasn’t – it just flows so naturally after that. There is silence, Riku lying on the bed contemplating the ceiling, Sora juggling words in his mind while sitting by the bedpost.

‘Hey, Sora.’

‘Hm?’

‘You think it’ll be easy for things to go back the way they were?’

‘No.’ As easy as that: no. Riku is spared no sympathy or lingering notes. ‘But … we can always try, can’t we?’

‘… Yeah. Yeah, I suppose we can.’

‘Yeah.’

- x -

Since I love publicity ololle yeah go review on fanfiction.net over here I don't get enough love ok uhh yeah.

[snowdog]

*Doesn't have an account* Is it okay if I comment here?

Just... wow. O.O

Amazing, in a word. Your style is perfect, and your literacy is wonderful. This is one of the best pieces I've ever read. It's emotional, and the details are like that of a film script.

I hope you post more of your work here, 'cause I'll definitely read it.

Welcome to KHI, I hope to see you around a lot! ^-^

<3 <3

[Pollen]

WHEE wow that's a really nice compliment. Thankss.