kirisheema
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"Do you have something to tell me, Sora?”
Something stopped him, the same force that kept him in place as Sora, cautiously; so gentle in his approach, rested a hand on the Bible — which had slipped slightly from Riku’s numb fingers — to rest between them, eyes flicking from Riku’s nose to eyes to lips in a strange staccato pattern, and Riku was too consumed with thoughts of Sora, warm and alive, and they had been close before, but this felt different.
“Riku,” he said, and his eyes spoke for him.
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A story about falling from grace (and maybe for your best friend), but finding yourself along the way.
Or: Kiss me once, kiss me twice, kiss me 57 times, cross the line.
Bookmarked by kirisheema
03 Nov 2019