Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Sora looks back, he really has to admit that death is much more complicated than he’d originally imagined.

After all, it had been an easy decision to save Kairi; she had given everything keeping him together in the Final World and he was beyond happy to have succeeded. He really was! As he’d spent his last few moments on the Paopu tree with her, he’d had no immediate regrets, nothing weighing his heart down. He’d felt light and at ease, the calm of a job well done. It was only in those final few seconds, with his pulse beginning to pound in his ears and the world fading out at the edges that he’d glanced away from her tears and caught the briefest flash of silver hair in his waning peripheral vision. 

Aquamarine eyes (so perfect, perfect, perfect ) that he’d never see again. Not ever . And the sting of that thought had been like an ugly stone dropped in his metaphysical pond, an itty-bitty frustrated ripple in his serenity. How could he die not having...?

It wasn’t fair .

After that, the complications had begun in earnest and Sora didn’t have time to worry about what was fair and what wasn’t. Who’d have thought that the afterlife would be so violent? Where was the eternal repose?! The Final World he’d expected, but the rest of it? It had been a whole lot of crap. Certainly more crap than anyone who had recently died heroically should have to put up with. Sora bet Hercules never had to deal with anything like that.  By the time he actually got back, alive and in one piece with Riku and Kairi at his side, he’d had more than enough.

It had been pleasant enough at first, the joyful celebration of his return more than enough to lift his mood to the point that he could convince himself everything was fine. And why shouldn’t he be fine? His best friends had literally saved his life, brought him back from…whatever the hell that had been. Sora had no right to be anything but happy and content; his second life was, as they say, good.  However, as time dragged on, as days turned into weeks and the newness of his homecoming wore off, he began to feel strange. The little ripple that had plagued him into the hereafter reared its ugly head, making him anxious and unhappy when he had no damn right to be unhappy.

The guilt was real.

Even the fast-approaching Christmas holiday, Sora’s favorite time of year since time immemorial, was doing nothing to improve his disposition. They’d arrived late the night before, stumbling in snow halfway up their knees (Sora was never going to have that longed for growth spurt and he’d accepted that) to gape at Disney Castle aglow with fairy lights hung in the windows and draped from every balcony. They covered the gathered drifts in great swaths of color and light, painted every corner with reds and greens and vibrant blues. It was stunning, Riku had whispered, so quietly that it had given Sora pleasant little shivers down his neck. Nodding in agreement, he’d knocked their suitcases together playfully and smiled, thinking privately that Riku’s hair looked like glittering tinsel in the Christmas lights. Riku was stunning, forget the lights altogether. 

Really, Riku was beautiful all the time, but he was resplendent at Christmas. The absolute brightest star in the whole sky. The one and only thing on Sora’s Christmas list. Just ask Santa! 

Sora’s Christmas List: Riku.

Now Sora lies quietly by the fireplace of his fancy room in a state of…he wasn’t even sure. The fire licks and bites at the never-ending logs as merrily as can be, warming Sora’s cheeks as he lazily turns his face towards it. It feels so good that he’s been prone here for hours, having relocated his blankets and pillows from the too-big bed when he couldn’t seem to get comfortable on it the night before. Too much open space, too empty, too lonely, too scary. Frankly, Sora could never get warm enough since he came back anyway, something he’d attributed to his time being “dead”. It was better on the floor anyway. Cozier. It reminded him of happy times when Riku and he would camp out in Sora’s living room, opening all the windows so they could hear the night insects and pretend they were outside.

Starfishing his arms and legs out as far as they’ll go, he hears a few joints pop satisfyingly and tells himself that it’s way past time to sort himself out. It’s Christmas Eve! He should be helping get things ready! King Mickey told him they’d saved trimming the tree just for him . Why then has Sora been in his room nearly all morning, having long since heard Riku and Kairi make their way down the hall and, presumably, to breakfast? His stomach has been rumbling for at least an hour, he can still smell something delicious and spicy in the air, so why isn’t he moving? 

He should have told them the truth weeks ago, Sora thinks, rubbing his hands down his burning face. He wishes he could just tell them how unhappy he is, how the tiny bitter ripples are growing into not-so-little waves that are threatening to drown him. Sora, being an optimistic, happy person for the past eighteen years, has little-to-no experience with the sort of emotions that have plagued him since his resurrection. Moreover, telling the truth would mean giving voice to something he’s promised to keep to himself. He could never tell them how unfair it feels to save the known universe but be denied the one damn thing you really want.  

Read: Sora’s Christmas List.

A soft knocking draws him out of his thoughts, and he rubs the back of his neck where the hair has gone a little wild (it’s a lost cause) before padding over to the door.

On the other side of the door stands a somewhat disgruntled, but adorable Riku, his long fingers barely visible under the cuffs of the cutest, baggiest green and white snowflake sweater Sora has ever seen. “Sora,” he says, putting one hand flat on the door so that Sora can’t shut it again. Had he looked like he might? “Why haven’t you come down for breakfast?”

Caught out, Sora quickly feigns a yawn (Actor of the Year, he is not) and crosses his arms behind his head. “I was so tired, Riku! You know how I get when I travel. What did you eat--?”

“The bed doesn’t even look slept in,” Riku interrupts, gesturing into the room. He takes in the blankets and pillows on the floor and his silver eyebrows come together, worry lighting up his pretty, pretty eyes. “Did you even sleep?”

“I’m excited for Christmas!” 

“Sor--”

Familiar voices laughing down the hall draw their attention, and Sora gives silent thanks for the interruption before retreating into his room to put on some clothes. Riku is casting him the “we’ll talk later” look as he greets Roxas and Lea, but Sora’s been able to avoid that talk for the past few months. It isn’t easy though. Riku is far from stupid, and he seems to be the only one who’s noticed the fact that something isn’t quite puppies and rainbows in Sora’s World, despite his best efforts (and poor acting skills) to the contrary. 

He’ll just have to try a little harder.

***

Every meal seems to be an event at Disney Castle, and Christmas Eve breakfast is no exception. Despite having missed the crowd, there is no shortage of food when Sora arrives, every pot, plate and kettle jumping up in excitement to greet him the moment he walks through the door. Forks and spoons fall all over themselves to be the first to his napkin, and it makes him smile despite himself, preening just a bit at the attention as the whole kitchen makes a huge fuss over his French toast and hot cocoa. 

Riku sits close, as though he’s Sora’s bodyguard, sipping at a cup of coffee that had unsteadily lumbered its way over when they sat down. “It looks tired,” Sora says laughingly, gesturing at the mug. “How many cups of coffee have you forced it to carry, you monster?”

“Just three!” Riku replies, feigning outrage. “It’s not my fault I picked a lazy mug.”

“Speaking of lazy,” Roxas chooses that moment to loudly come into the room with Lea in tow, though the taller man was obscured by a box of garland and ornaments so big that only the very tips of his red hair is showing. Oh, yeah, they were supposed to be trimming the tree. “I didn’t think you were ever coming out today. I mean, it’s past noon. We’ve been waiting for hours!”

Sora winces, glancing over at the grandfather clock waving at him (literally, with its arms) from the hallway. Was it really that late? He hadn’t even realized the time. “I was just--,” he starts a bit lamely, putting his fork down on his plate with a noisy clatter that startles everyone in the room including himself. A teaspoon jumps back in surprise and then inches forward until it can rub itself soothingly against his hand, leaning in like a kitten when he strokes the gleaming silver handle with the tip of his finger.

“Hurry up and eat so we can get started!” 

It doesn’t bear reminding that this is technically Roxas’ first Christmas (surely Xemnas never celebrated) with a body of his own, and that he’d mentioned being excited about it at least a dozen times in the last two weeks. Really excited. To the point that every other Kingstagram post had been about it. Of course, it went without saying that he wanted to start decorating the giant tree; in many ways, he was acting like Sora usually did around Christmas.

How ironic. 

He’s practically stomping out the door before Sora can reply, but it doesn’t stop Riku from snorting in annoyance anyway. “Ignore him. He’s a toddler; you know how the Terrible Twos are.”

Chuckling gently, Sora grabs up his hot cocoa with a shake of his head and moves to stand. “I’m finished anyway.” The teacup makes a strange, gurgling/humming sound when it magically refills and he smiles over at Riku. “He can’t help being excited. I should take a page from his book.”

“What do you mean?”

No explanation is offered as the two of them walk in a calm silence down the long corridors towards the ringing of cheer and music coming from the main hall. It’s such a happy sound that Sora wants to wrap himself in it and never come out, roll around in it like catnip and purr. It and having Riku so very close makes the nagging guilt of his less-than-chipper mood fade a little. This can be enough, can’t it? He’s being selfish to want more, no matter how many times he saves the universe; all his friends are alive and well, and Riku is there wearing the ugliest green snowflake sweater Of All Time. 

The whole world smells like sugar and spice and everything nice; Sora should be (he is, he swears) extremely grateful.

However, he can feel Riku’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his face in a way that demands his attention. “Sora,” he murmurs, reaching out for Sora’s sleeve before letting it fall back to his side without having touched him. “You know if there’s anything wrong, you can tell me, right?”

They reach the main hall in the nick of time to avoid answering that question, and Sora is quickly engulfed in a cacophony of chattering. Once he gets a look around it doesn’t take long to evaluate things. An attempt has clearly been made, but it looks more like an explosion than a tree trimming. Ornaments of every size and color litter the available surface space, glittering silver garland snakes along every inch of the floor, and at least eleven bags of golden tinsel look to have exploded at some point and no one has bothered to pick any of it up. Aqua is helping Lea with the box he’d been carrying earlier while Ventus sits in a pile of tangled Christmas lights, frustrated tears in his eyes. Terra and Goofy were busy bringing in the ladders that they’d need to get up to the top of the tree, both of them with the confused faces of people who had left things looking all right, but now weren’t. Overall, it looked like a group of teenagers had attempted to decorate a twenty-foot spruce tree and been soundly defeated. 

A pathetic noise erupts from behind the tree. “Riiikkkuuuu!” Kairi calls out. “Help! We need direction! We’re rudderless!”

Sora gestures towards the destruction with his cup and a wink. “Cheers, Master Rikuuuu.” 

Riku gives the long-suffering sigh of the eternally damned and trudges bravely into the fray, leaving Sora to lounge in the nearest chaise. It doesn’t take long for Kairi to join him, sitting down heavily before combing fingers through her hair to pull it into a messy bun. “Hey, we missed you this morning,” she says softly as though she’s afraid of disturbing his mood; maybe she is. “I hear Santa’s coming tonight. Did you bring your list?”

“Nah.” He lets go of the cup into the air and watches it float back to the kitchen.  “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need anything.”

“Since when is Christmas about what you need?” She slaps the side of his knee. “It’s about what you want! Don’t you want anything?”

There’s a loud, unintelligible squawk coming from the direction of the tree that draws his attention to a growing conflict between Donald and Riku.  He’d go mediate if he weren’t so amused by it. Sora’s Christmas List is looking more and more agitated by the second, clearly not understanding a single world of what Donald is trying to get across but not wanting to admit it. Hell, it took years until Sora knew what the duck was saying and wasn’t just nodding along politely until Goofy translated. 

Everything he wanted was right here. Everything he’d ever needed was right here. Maybe not quite how he wanted it to be, but…

“Lookit Riku,” Sora giggles, waggling his finger in the general direction of his best friend’s mounting distress. It's so cute, the way Riku's nose scrunches up when he's frustrated, the way he blows his bangs out of his face. It's hard to be even remotely intimidating when your sweater sleeves are flopping around like a three year old's every time you try to make a point. “He’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

He’s still snickering when Kairi reaches out for his hand, slipping her fingers through his to give them a gentle squeeze that he instantly returns. Of all his friends, their relationship is the most…unique. How many people can say they’ve come back from death the way they have? How many people have their shared experience? Kairi seems to have come through with more grace than Sora, perhaps because she didn’t have to wait as long to be revived; perhaps she was just a better person than he was. Either way, he envies her somewhat smoother transition back into the world of the living. 

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“C’mon, you know he doesn’t--,” he replies carelessly, speaking entirely without thinking before cutting himself off with a snap. Glaring, he tugs his hand away from her grinning face and scowls, feeling as though a bucket of snow were dumped on his head. Is she laughing at him? He wishes she wouldn’t do that, he wishes she wouldn’t trick him into saying things he doesn’t want to say or admit things he wants to keep private. It makes him feel stupid. Why does everyone treat him like he’s so stupid?!  He saved the whole universe!

“ Don’t ,” he hisses.

His heart stops. The world around him stops. Everything stops.

Jaw wide open, Kairi blinks owlishly at him a few times before moving to worry her lip until it turns a bright, bubblegum pink. She’s looking at him as if she barely recognizes him, and honestly, maybe she doesn’t anymore. Sora doesn’t really recognize himself a lot these days, either. Everything is so messed up in his head. Why can’t he just go back to the way he used to be? “I-I’m sorry,” she says, looking down at the floor, at the fuzzy purple socks on her feet. “It’s not my place. I just thought…”

“Kairi, look --,” Sora swallows around his suddenly-pounding heart and decides then and there that he’s the Biggest Asshole to Ever Ass. Certified. He really is stupid. Who the hell is mean to Kairi other than heartless supervillains?! Sora, apparently. The room has gotten suspiciously quiet, and it doesn’t take a genius to know every single set of eyes is on him.  He wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear. He’s done that once, it’s not so bad! Really, he just wants this whole damn holiday to be over so he can go home and never come out of his bedroom again. Santa is going to see him tonight and just know that Sora is the absolute Worst of the Worst. 

Someone (sounds like Namine) calls Kairi over before Sora can apologize further and he’s simultaneously both relieved and humiliated. He turns over on his side and hugs a pillow to his face, nose squished firmly to the fluff and away from his friends. No one is coming to either reprimand or comfort him, and he’s glad for it. He doesn’t deserve to be coddled for his temper. He just…wants to be left alone.  

For someone who considers his friends his “power”…it’s an unusual feeling to say the least. How the hell did Riku put up with himself back in the day when he was being an anti-social, angsty teenager? 

Slowly, the sounds of conversation begin to flood the room again, laughter filling up the ugly hole he made with his tantrum. He hears Roxas try to get his attention a few times, but he ignores him in favor of squeezing his eyes together so tightly he thinks he might get a headache. It’s taking everything he has not to cry, reminding himself over and over that he has no one to blame but himself for not having a good time. This is his fault entirely. No one else.

Eventually it all starts to blend together, becoming a sort of white noise that lulls him into a half-doze; he’s not exactly calm, but he’s not bouncing off the wall with anxiety either. After a little while the half-doze becomes a full-doze, and Sora drifts off smelling some kind of spicy orange smell, like Christmasy tea. Soothing and warm. He dreams about grapefruits with wiggly arms rolling across the breakfast table towards him, giggling and dancing with the spoons. Stripping off their little peels kinda provocatively. Citrus Burlesque. Dirty Citrus. 

“~ Nooo, I’m not that kinda guy.  I have someone…~ ”

“Sora?” Riku’s voice, so quiet it’s almost a whisper, cuts through his sleep. “What the hell--?”

“Grapefruits…with looooonnng arms.” Sora finally opens his eyes and yawns, watches curiously as Riku's hand fall back to his side. The room is quiet now, and when he looks over at the tree, he finds it to be completely finished. And absolutely beautiful. Queen Minnie must have come in at some point to help, because there's no way it got that way without her. Not to mention everything is clean; Sora isn't upset about missing that part.  

"Where is everybody?" He gestures towards the tree with an approving nod, smiling at the twinkling lights glittering off the garland, the ornaments singing softly (literally, with mouths) from the branches, real enchanted icicles glistening and catching the fading afternoon light streaming through the windows. It's perfect, and the fact that it's perfect makes him feel even worse for not helping when they'd set aside this time for him.  "Did they finish already?"

Riku nods. "Yeah, you were asleep for hours, Sora." 

It doesn't escape his notice that Riku isn't elaborating; Sora rubs his cheek against the scratchy fabric. "Are they mad?" The question is reluctant at best, his voice a bit timid. Frankly, a part of him doesn't want to know, is embarrassed at his behavior and would rather forget about it. Hell, there's a small part that doesn't even seem to care, which is much more worrying and isn't like him at all.  Nevertheless, he needs to set things right, because that's what adults do...right? And despite Sora not feeling much like an adult most days, he supposes he is one.

"A little," Riku replies with a shrug, giving Sora a tiny half smile. "What happened? Kairi wouldn't tell us."

Sora winces, tugging the pillow further into himself like a shield. It isn’t as though he can tell Riku what's going on. "M'sorry," he says, the sound muffled but clearly miserable. There's the incriminating hint of a tear in his voice that makes him feel about two inches tall; Sora has always tried his best to control his emotions, but has met with limited success. He's no good at keeping a lid on how he's feeling, always has his heart on his sleeve. Riku has the best poker face in the world. Why can't Sora be more like that and less like a mess?

"Hey, hey," Riku's long fingers wrap around the top of the cushion (he has beautiful fingers and isn't that the weirdest thing Sora's thought today) and tries to tug it away from Sora's face. When that doesn't work, he leans in closer, so close in fact that Sora can feel the heat of his body and the invisible weight of it sets his heart off in an utter samba . Bum-Bum-bumbumbum-Bum Bum Bum BAH! "I didn't say I was mad."

"You're not?" There's that tear again. Dammit, dammit, dammit! 

"Nah."

Sora kind of wants to tell Riku that he should be, but doesn't. Because more than anything in the world, Sora really doesn't want Riku to be angry with him. He spent the better part of his fourteenth year chasing this beautiful boy around the universe thinking he was angry at him and not knowing why. Turns out Riku was really just mad at himself and needed to actually use his words instead of being a dick about it. 

At some point they should probably work through that, but with Sora...you know...dying and all, they haven't really had the time. 

A pathetic whimper rises up and gets stuck in Sora's throat, half-lost in the folds on his pillow shield.  "Really? You promise?"

"Cross my heart. Now c'mon, you need to get cleaned up and changed for Santa." He moves away, giving Sora the opportunity to peek over the top of the tassels and absolutely gawk at Riku's change of clothes. 

Sora was never one for strong language, but...good fucking lord. 

Of course, he'd known that Riku would do so, had even helped him pick out what he'd wear. It was his Special Christmas Suit. But gawd , there was nothing like seeing it on. Sora had nearly died of blood loss when Riku had modeled it in the shop, shy and unsure of his own beauty, turning this way and that so Sora could ogle him. It had been so sexy that Sora was forced to play his reaction off as choking on his smoothie. Riku had damn near given him the Heimlich maneuver. A good time had by all.

It wasn't exactly a "Christmasy" sort of outfit, but it suits his best friend to a tee. Black slacks hug his hips like a second skin with a silver stripe going down the sides of his thighs to disappear into a pair of knee high boots Sora had picked out himself.  He'd thought they looked like pirate boots, butter soft black leather and pewter accents, perfect buckles and a tiny heel. It went well with the simple dark grey sweater Riku had chosen to go with them. He's even pulled his shoulder-length hair back from his face in a complicated mess of swirls that Sora knew for a fact had to be magical. 

It certainly looks magical...

***

"Oh, Rooooooxas!" Sora calls, one hand cupping his mouth while the other waves his phone around. He's barely able to speak between giggling uncontrollably and gasping for breath. "It's time to come sit on Santa's laaaaaap and tell him what you waaaaaaaannnt!"

"I told you I'm not sitting on his lap, you asshole!" Roxas stays firmly in place, arms crossed petulantly across his chest, cheeks puffed out like a hamster. Lea, beside him, is so red in the face from trying not to laugh that he looks like he's going to pass out. "I'm not doing it! You know what? I liked you better when you were pouting! At least you were quiet!"

Feigning insult, Sora steeples his fingers to his chest and sniffs dramatically. "Why, I never! I thought Riku and I raised you better than this! All I want is a picture of my beloved son with Santa and all you give me is your bad attitude. How can you do this to me, Roxas? Haven't I given you everything a little boy could want?"

The room is erupting in cackling; Riku is wheezing and coughing, barely keeping from spilling his mulled wine all over the floor. "Your mother and I are very disappointed," Riku squeezes out, shaking violently and using the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his face. Playing along, he gesticulates wildly. "Sora, where did we go wrong??"

Much to Sora's dismay, Roxas is a stubborn one (he gets that from Riku), but he still has one more arrow in his proverbial quiver. Both hands to his heart, Sora sticks out his lower lip as far as it will go and somehow manages to speak with an utter seriousness. "Roxas...I died saving the universe for you. Pleeeeeaasseee?"

Intermingled 'oohhhhs" and 'daaaaammmnnns' explode around them, and Roxas is pinning Sora down with such a withering look that he almost looks threatening. (Sora thinks he could take him.) But one more doe-eyed blink has him on his feet with a disgusted huff, shuffling his way over to where Santa is sitting in the big velvet chair they'd set up near the tree. "I hate you," he mumbles under his breath as he passes, shaking his head with what can only be described as utter contempt. 

"Don't forget to smiiiillleeeee," Sora replies, gesturing to his camera phone that he hands off to Riku. He ducks quickly from the swing of Roxas’ arm.

Soft giggling draws his attention to Kairi. She has both hands over her mouth, her violet eyes wide and full of amusement. He's glad she isn't upset with him over what happened earlier; she's really too precious for this world. Too good for literally everyone and the first person to ask her out will have to duel him in battle. He'd made every effort to apologize to her short of prostrating himself on the floor, but she'd rebuffed him at every turn. She assured him she'd forgiven him the moment it had happened, but Sora was still feeling guilty over it, was still thinking of ways to make amends. He'd have to do something really special for her birthday or something.

"You okay?" she puts her hand on his forearm, smiling. "Did the nap help?"

He nods, watching Riku snapping pictures of Roxas looking surprisingly adorable on Santa's lap. Those are going on Sora's fridge. Every single one. "Yeah, I'm just..." he shakes his head, not quite knowing what to say. She knows though. 

"Not feeling quite right?" she finishes for him. He nods. Snowflake cookies are drifting through the air like a confectionary blizzard, covered in marbled blue icing and shimmering sugar; he snatches one drifting by his nose and shoves half of it into his mouth.

"I think I got one or two where he wasn't glaring at me?" Riku returns to them a little out of breath, handing Sora back his phone. "I think there's even one where he might be smiling?"

There is, Sora finds. One picture, towards the very end, where Roxas is leaning in to say something to Santa with a young, childlike look in his eyes. His lips are just barely turned up, as though he's trying the facial expression on for size, as though it's not quite comfortable yet. It makes Sora wonder how many times Roxas has really gotten the opportunity to smile in his short life. 

And who better to smile at than Santa?  There's nothing like the absolute joy of Santa beaming out of every photo, clearly chuckling in that deep voice he has, his head thrown back slightly. Sora had asked if coming to this party was all right, because didn't Santa have a million things to do on Christmas Eve? But the old man had assured him cryptically that "time was on his side" tonight, whatever that meant.

"Your turn, Sora." Riku points towards the big chair. "Santa asked for you."

"He did?" 

"Yep." 

Santa's eyes are the same color as Sora's, a perfectly clear lapis lazuli that shines against his white beard and red hat. They're smiling at him now, twinkling from between deep laugh lines, the happiness setting something loose in Sora's chest that had been a little tight. Some part of him really had thought that he was in trouble, not just for this afternoon, but how he's been in general since he came back. Maybe it was childish, but he really didn't want to be on the Naughty List this year.

He sits cross-legged in front of the chair, close enough that he could put his head on Santa's knees if he leaned forward. "Hi," Sora says quietly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a wrinkled letter that he'd written a few weeks prior. He'd sent one to Santa, too, but he thought it might help to give it to him in person. 

"Sora," Santa reaches out a velvet-gloved hand and slowly presses it into the top of Sora's hair, rubbing it back and forth through the spikes. " Thank you. Your heart...it saved us all."

Over the months, Sora has gotten many 'thank yous' from people in regards to...everything that happened. He hasn't gotten any better at knowing how to take it. Well-wishers have tried to give him everything from parties in his honor to gifts so extravagant he wondered what he would even do with them.  Every time it makes his gut twist up, as if he doesn't deserve their thanks, like he's a sham. If they could see inside his head at the thoughts he has, they wouldn't thank him at all. He doesn't deserve their adulation.

He's nobody special. 

However, this thank you is special. This thank you feels real in a way that the others didn't. Makes his heart a little fuzzy; he tips his head down into Santa's hand, closes his eyes and nods. "It was...it was nothing," he replies, hands clenched together in his lap, crunching the mangled letter even further.  

"Hardly, but I’ll take your word for it. Is this the letter you sent me?" He takes the crumpled paper from Sora's hands, cradles it gently in his own. 

"Yes, sir." Sora rubs the side of his nose in a decidedly nervous gesture. "Did you have time to read it? I know it was...pretty long."

It was. In fact, it isn't a Christmas list so much as an utter confession. Of literally everything. Sora, not knowing who else to say these things to, had written page upon page of emotional vomit. Endless pining for Riku, of how sad and confused he's been feeling since coming back, of every angry thought going through his head, every lingering guilt. It had taken a month to write, and even longer to work up the nerve to send. He isn't honestly expecting anything to come of it, but it had felt good to get it off his chest to someone he knew wouldn't judge him. 

Santa's thumb is tracing the seal of the envelope, drawing Sora's attention upward. There's a gentle look on his face, a melancholy. "I did. I've been thinking about it, and you, a lot since I received it."

"You have?"

"Oh, yes," his voice is nearly a whisper now, as though Santa knows this isn't something that Sora wants to share with the group. It's like he's created a bubble around them, a magical Christmas bubble. Maybe it's Christmas Magic. Sora could use some Christmas Magic tonight. "And you know I pride myself on always having the right thing to say."

Sora wouldn't know what that's like. He always seems to be saying the wrong thing, blurting out things that sound stupid or make him look silly. He just follows his heart into battle, trusting things will go his way; he doesn't know why people make such a fuss over it. It's nothing. It's nothing that anybody couldn't do. He's nothing special.  

"You're about to tell me you don't know what to say." Of course, there's nothing Santa can say to make any of this okay. There's no magical words to fix it. But...maybe some part of Sora had hoped there would be, some five-year old part of himself that still believed Santa really could  make things right again. "Right?"

There must be something in Sora's voice, because Santa's eyes glimmer with more than just mirth. "My dear boy," he touches the top of Sora's head again, where he’s bowed it down low without his realizing it. "I can't give you what you really want."

And there it is. The final nail.

Sora knew it, of course. But hearing it is different. Hearing it is like a slamming door, like Kingdom Hearts clanging shut in his face with the love of his life on the other side. It rattles in the corners of his heart, bounces back and forth along its walls like an echo. It mocks him, over and over and over. You can't have what you want .  

"I know."  He brings his fist up to his mouth, hopes no one else can see. It's all that's keeping him from saying something stupid. He can't say something stupid now, not here, not in front of Santa. 

"I'm so sorry, but the love of another is something I can’t give." Santa is leaning in now, closer than Sora wants him. Sora doesn't want anyone close right now at all. No one. He feels like the walls are drawing in around him, like he's in a dark box with no lid. But then...he can't have what he wants, so why should this be any different? Sora shakes his head pathetically and turns away, glancing over his shoulder; Riku is looking at him, flawless timing as always. God, those pretty eyes...they're so perfect, perfect, perfect . 

Sora will never have what he wants. 

"I. Know." The words are painful now; they squeeze out through his teeth, through the burning cracks of his heart. When did he clench them so hard? Why does the room suddenly feel so damn hot?! He doesn't want to be here anymore; he just wants to be left alone. 

"I'm so--"

"I KNOW!!" 

Sora's feet find the floor unsteadily the moment the scream leaves his lungs...and he runs . 

He runs from the surprisingly unsurprised look on Santa's face. He runs from the worried exclamations of his name. Kairi. Donald. Goofy. He runs past Roxas reaching out to him, trying to stop him from escaping. He runs from Mickey blocking the exit for the briefest of moments before jumping aside, a knowing look on his face that only serves to make Sora even more upset. He only pauses at one cry, one voice, gentler than the rest, but doesn't look back. 

There’s no looking back. He has to get out of here before he makes things even worse. He has to get out of here before he implodes .

Sora’s sense of direction has never been that great at the best of times, but now, in his distress, Disney Castle is like a maze. Every staircase looks the same as he barrels down them in search of escape, suits of armor turning their helmets towards him in shock as he accidentally bumps into the wall with his shoulder. There’s a set of glass double doors leading outside at the end of the next hall that Sora thinks is as good an idea as any.  Maybe being outside will clear his head. 

“Sora?!”

No, no, no…he can’t deal with that voice right now.  He gasps and steps out onto the snowy veranda, realizing a bit late that he’s not wearing any shoes as the cold bites instantly into his socked feet. It nearly makes Sora turn back, try to find his room and lock himself in it, but that voice is too close to retreat. Icy wind whips up around him, blowing snow up into his face as he makes his way into the deeper drifts, towards the castle topiary and the fountains. He remembers this garden from years ago, remembers climbing around in it green and lush, but now everything is cold and dead. 

How appropriate, he thinks, stumbling as his leg sinks down, arms windmilling. It causes him to lose his balance, falling forward onto his hands and knees; the cold is awful…but grounding. This is real. His head feels clearer suddenly, his thoughts a little steadier. 

“Sora! Stop!”

For reasons unbeknownst to himself, Sora does just that. But he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t really need to. He can feel Riku no matter how far apart they are, no matter whether his eyes are open or closed. Their dreams bind them together irrevocably after the Mark of Mastery exam, but even before that, Sora knew Riku. Knew him in all the big and small ways, from a lifetime of play and tears and long conversations under the stars. Even when they were across the universe from one another, Riku drowning in darkness, Sora knew he would find him. Sora knows Riku. Always, always, always. 

“What’s going on?” his best friend’s voice is a little out of breath from the chase, soothing and gentle, barely audible over the sound of a harsh breeze whipping up around them. Sora doesn’t want to be soothed though, doesn’t have to look to imagine Riku’s stupid, handsome face staring at his back. Those pretty eyebrows (Sora knows he plucks them to make them so nice) knit over his beautiful eyes, reaching out to him but never touching him. “What’s wrong, Sora?”

“Go away, Riku,” Sora angrily tries to brush the snow off his fancy trousers. Mom would kill him if she saw the way he was treating his fancy Christmas outfit. “I want to be alone.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

Now that sets Sora off. Who the hell does Riku think he is? “Oh, really?!” he finally turns, hands clenching into furious fists at his sides. “Don’t I?”

And there he stands, Sora’s radiant Snow Prince. Extravagant hair starting to fall messy around his shoulders, cheeks turning pink in the cold, his black pants standing out sharply against the stark white of the garden. A black stain in a sea of white. Utterly shocked. Every muscle tense like he’s going into battle. Maybe they are, Sora thinks. “Are you okay? Please talk to me. I’m worried about you. I’ve been worried about you for months.” He takes a step forward, the snow crunching loudly beneath his boot; Sora takes one back, feeling the cold sink into every part of him it can reach, past his flesh, all the way to his heart. 

Such an odd dance. They deserve better.

“Why?” Sora throws his arms out wide, tossing a handful of snow at Riku. “You seem to know everything I’m thinking, Master Riku. Why don’t you tell poor, stupid Sora what he should do?!”

“W-what?” A flash of hurt confusion, Riku ducks away from the flying snow and shakes his head. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?! Sora, I’ve never, ever thought you were--,”

“Well, you’re the only one then!” Sora can feel his bottom lip starting to tremble at the frustrated tone of Riku’s voice, can’t seem to stop the grief from boiling over as the anger flickers out. Stars, not now…he’s cried in front of Riku enough for a lifetime. Riku shouldn’t have to see his tears anymore. Why is he doing this?  “I can save the whole universe, b-but no one will ever take me seriously. I died ! I died, Riku! And…and everyone just expects me to…b-be o-okay.”

“I don’t feel okay, R-Riku. It’s so unfair…”

Palms pushing out in a calming motion as though to pacify him from a distance, Riku’s momentary frustration seems to be fading in the face of Sora’s anguish. Yet…he still doesn’t touch him, still keeps his distance. Like there’s some kind of invisible wall between them, as though Riku would burn himself on Sora’s skin. “Shh, shh, shh, nonono,” his voice is quivering in a way Sora remembers from their childhood, when the older boy’s emotions were less fettered, when he was less stoic. “I know. I know you don’t, Sora. What’s unfair? Please?”

Tears are beginning to bucket down in earnest now, burning hot on Sora’s cheeks against the bitter of the night, distorting his vision to the point that he starts to feel blind and panicked. He registers movement, Riku is coming for him, but he stops short when he sees Sora’s anxiety. Even from here Riku’s trembling is obvious, a black and silver puddle in Sora’s wavering eyesight. 

Why won’t he comfort him?!

When Riku refuses to bridge the gap, Sora suddenly feels a weakness take him, every limb in his body giving out in sadness all at once. Tumbling in a heap to the freezing snow, he buries his face in his hands and starts sobbing, suddenly very uncaring of what he looks like or what he says. It’s like there’s no dam around his heart anymore, as if he’s busted wide open and the waters are inundating him, crushing the levees he’s built up over these past months, destroying every effort he’s made to get by. 

In a flurry of motion and sound Riku is beside him at last, finally, finally, finally kneeling down in front of him, so close their fogging breaths are mingling. Sora can hear the rapid rise and fall of his chest, knows Riku is struggling and desperately wants to help him. Knowing Riku is hurting kills him; Riku should never hurt. Unfortunately, Sora is crying up chunks of himself into his palms, ugly and wet, his lungs heaving against the strain. He’s not sure he has anything left in him to spare for comforting anyone right now. 

“It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair…” Sora repeats pathetically from behind his hands, every word a moan bubbling up from his belly. “Oh, Riku…”

“God, Sora.” The tears are obvious in Riku’s voice now, and isn’t it sweet how they’re a matching set? “What’s not fair? Please, please tell me what to do and I’ll do it! I can make it right! I’d do…literally anything for you!”

Anything…? That doesn’t sound quite right, does it? 

“Then w-why are you afraid to t-touch me, Riku?” Sora sniffles after a short hesitation, lowering his shaking hands from his face. It takes long moments and a few deep breaths to compose himself enough to continue, but when he does, it’s with purpose. He needs to know. Something has been set off in his mind, and these next words are important, he can feel it. “When we were little, you used to hug me all the time. You used to hold my hand. Why…why don’t you touch me anymore?”

“Huh? I-I…!” Startled, Riku jerks back, both knees sinking into the snow. “I don’t know--,”

Even through his lingering tears, Riku’s instant fear is apparent. A nerve has been hit, and Sora allows himself the briefest smug satisfaction in knowing he’s onto something before driving on. This road is leading him somewhere, his heart telling him that this might be the answer. 

If there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s follow the lead of his heart. 

“Because I felt you in that Graveyard, Riku,” Sora whispers, suddenly urgent, each word providing him more and more clarity.  Each word is a twitch at Riku’s eye, a clench of his jaw, the shiver of his breath. Giveaways that Sora is getting close; he scrambles onto his knees unsteadily, his legs nearly numb from the cold, but he ignores it. His heart is pounding in his ears again with growing surety as he invades Riku’s space. “You reached for me. You’re always reaching for me, but never touching me. You always stop yourself. You always hold yourself back. I see it; I see you . Why?”

“Sora…,”

“Tell me the truth!” Sora punches downward, snow flying up with the impact. 

“I just…I just wanted to be strong for you!” Riku is gazing up and away at the crystal clear sky above them, blinking quickly to keep the tears clinging to his lashes from falling.  “I didn’t know what else to do. I would have taken your place in an instant, if I could. It helped, didn’t it? You saved us. You saved everything.”

“Yes, Riku,” Sora replies softly, “but I don’t need you to be strong for me right now.”

Silver strands of hair swing forward as Riku bows down at the waist, squeezing his eyes shut tight, trying to hide. Always hiding. “What do you need, Sora?”

Need…want…it’s all the same, Sora thinks. He needs this remarkable man in front of him, has done so since the moment they met. Little Sora needed his stories and his big heart, his crazy ideas, his teasing, his friendship, his dreams beyond the ocean. Now, Grown Sora needs Riku to take this last leap with him, if he’s willing. He needs his bravery, his steady hand, his playfulness, his utter devotion and his love . There’s still nagging doubt in the back of Sora’s mind that he’s about to be rejected; he was so sure he could never have this. Still…what’s the point of continuing on the way they are? Sora clearly can’t keep it up. Riku deserves better. They both do.

Hand unsteady, Sora reaches down, wavering for only the briefest of seconds before cupping Riku’s cold cheek. He uses it to lift up the other man’s shocked face, nearly laughing at Riku’s slack jaw and wide eyes, at his utter astonishment. There are warm tears under those flawless aquamarine eyes that Sora tenderly brushes away, marveling at the softness of the skin under his thumb. He gives a watery smile, finally letting his emotions out through his eyes, trying to say what he’s feeling without actual words. (Frankly, that’s a little bit beyond him right now.) It feels so damn good to let it out, to not force himself into hiding, to show his love plain on his face. 

“S-Sora?” Riku’s voice is a fragile breeze, disbelief in his tone.  

Sora simply nods, knowing in his heart that Riku is asking the right question, has put the puzzle pieces together the right way. He’s smart like that. Besides, they’ve always been good at knowing what the other was thinking; they don’t need words, the two of them. 

Both Riku’s hands come up in what feels like slow motion to lovingly cradle Sora’s palm against his cheek before turning his face into it with a tiny whimper. His big hands cover Sora’s completely, engulf it in warmth. Riku is shuddering so hard that he looks like he’s going to fall apart. “I knew I’d never be able to stop,” Riku says, voice muffled. Sora feels liquid drip between his fingers, feels how it makes his heart clench painfully in his chest. “If I let myself touch you for even an instant. You’re crazy, Sora…you can have anyone.”

“I don’t want just anyone…”

“Is this…real?”

“I hope so.”

Without warning, Sora feels Riku’s lips brush against the palm of his hand and gasps. “Riku!” It sets off a chain reaction of little tingles that shoot up his arm to his elbow. Riku follows the trail with his mouth until he’s kissing the inside of Sora’s wrist, right above his pulse, right where the blood flows closest to the surface. It’s reverent in a way that makes Sora catch his breath, makes his heart throb.

And just so there’s no more confusion. “I love you,” Sora speaks the words into being, at last. At last. They’re out and he can’t take them back. It’s like emerging gasping from a crashing wave, as though he’d been buried for a thousand years and dug himself out with his own two hands. The weight lifted is immense. He can breathe . 

At first, Sora thinks he might have broken his best friend. There’s nothing to indicate that Riku heard him beyond a sharp inhalation and then…nothing. He’s frozen in place, only the barest of shudders against Sora’s skin is proof that he lives. Sora is about to say it again, repeat himself as many times as it takes until he gets through when Riku explodes, lunges towards Sora in a flurry of limbs to wrap him up in an embrace so tight Sora thinks he might suffocate. 

But what a way to go.

When they were children, Riku would often hug Sora. It was so easy back then to wrap their tiny arms around each other and show affection, to bask in the warmth of their friendship. Over time that had morphed into tussles and jabs and elbows to ribs. Endless competition. Eventually there had been nothing at all; just a sea of misunderstanding between them that Sora neither knew how to traverse nor truthfully even realized was there. He had only known something had changed, and it had left a hole in him that he couldn’t fill with anything or anyone else. 

This isn’t like that. This isn’t like the innocent hugs of their youth. This is so much better . Better than any hug Sora has ever had; he isn’t even sure this should be classified as a hug. Is there a Mega-Hug? SuperDuper-Hug?  This is Riku’s strong arms smooshing Sora’s cheek to his broad chest so he can hear his heartbeat racing behind his ribcage. This is Riku’s hand clenched in his spiky hair, just this side of too tight, scratching softly at his scalp. It’s the smell of him, like lemons and spices and musk, something masculine and calm. Riku’s cheek rubbing against the top of his head over and over, like he’s a cat scenting its territory. 

That’s kind of a nice thought. He likes being Riku’s.

“I feel like I’m gonna wake up any second,” Riku laughs into Sora’s hair. “Like I’m gonna wake up before I finally work up the nerve to tell you I love you again.” 

The words crash over Sora like a tsunami, trigger his eyes to watering again. Riku loves him? Riku loves him. Riku loves him! "Really?" The question is barely above a whisper, the slightest sound that's nearly swallowed whole by the excited ringing in his ears. In all his wayward fantasies, Sora never really thought this was going to happen, so he'll have to be forgiven the disbelief in his tone. "You do?"

Pulling back a little, Riku gazes down into Sora's face and grins through what's left of the tears on his face. One big hand comes up, waves around in an airy kind of gesture that has always made Sora laugh. "Really, he says?” Riku asks an invisible audience, the whole universe, perhaps. “This beautiful boy. As though he isn't the most eligible bachelor in the cosmos? As if I'm even remotely worthy of him?"

Sora giggles (and isn't that the most embarrassing thing) and rolls his eyes, sighing melodramatically. "I know. Frankly, it's sad how badly I'm settling."

"You really are. But...god, yes, I do."

"I bet Rapunzel would dump Eugene for me." 

"Hey!"

They bicker back and forth a few more seconds, wrapping their arms around one another to sway gently back and forth together. It's a new dance of giddy anticipation; Sora has zero first-hand experience with romance obviously, but already he can feel the little rubber bands of tension between them now that things are out in the open. Sora thinks it's a much better dance than before; it makes him feel so warm and happy that he barely even notices how he's begun to shiver, how every limb has gone numb. It isn't until he feels himself trembling against Riku's body that he really feels it. 

But now that he has?

"I'm so coooolllddd!" he whines without warning, burying his face in Riku's collarbone. His feet are so numb they're starting to hurt! "Rikuuuu, let me borrow your coat!"

"I'm not wearing a coat?"

"What are you doing outside in the winter without a coat?!"

It takes three tries of clumsily tumbling back into the snow before they're able to make it to their feet, Sora complaining loudly the entire time. Sora is an islander, dammit! He isn’t built for this cold sort of stuff! Riku rolls his eyes and reaches out to brush the snow from Sora's hair with a tender expression, as though he can't believe he's allowed to do it. As though he's going to be punished for it, somehow.   "C'mon, let’s go back inside."

Agreeing, Sora nods, but pauses when he looks in the direction of the main hall. He's not sure he wants to face everyone yet after his outburst, not sure he's ready for those conversations. They're probably upset with him, and even if they aren't, they're going to ask a million questions that Sora isn't ready to answer. Will he ever be ready to answer them? Probably not, but he knows for sure that tonight is not the night.

He just wants to be alone with Riku tonight. Just them. Just for a few hours. Surely, they've earned that; surely, Sora has earned that.  

"Riku?" he starts, hesitating, glancing down the hall with a frown. 

"Hey, hey," Riku reaches out for his hand as they make their way towards the big staircase, wiggling his fingers around a bit to get his point across. Of course, he knows what's wrong with Sora without Sora having to say so. "We don't have to go back to the others. Let me take you to your room."

The words, innocent as they are, make Sora blush profusely and look towards the floor. Take him...to his room? Despite the fact that they've literally only confessed to one another ten minutes ago, Sora's mind is flying a mile a minute. He can't help it! He's an eighteen-year-old guy with little to no practical experience and an active imagination! Oh, man, he has it so bad.  

Riku's eyes widen, his cheeks a shade of pink that makes Sora want to nibble on them like candy, see how sweet that blush really is. "Not like that!" he sputters, linking their fingers into a single seam, giving them a squeeze. "God, Sora! I didn't know you were such a..."

"Like you've never thought about me like that!"

"Oh my god," Riku, usually so confident, looks like he's going to faint, is nearly wheezing. He picks up their pace so that he can be out in front of Sora and hide his face. "I didn't...say that. But...oh my god..."

Seeing as all this is a new development, Sora is cataloguing it for later use. Riku is clearly floundering, adorable in his embarrassment. So different from Sora's fantasies where Riku is suave, take-charge, and as confident in romance as in everything else he's ever done.  It's funny, but Sora thinks he likes this better, this blushing, shy boy who can barely meet his eyes. It's exciting, gives Sora a little self-esteem boost.

Maybe he can take charge. Sora kinda likes the sound of that. 

Jogging ahead a few steps, he turns and walks backwards down the hallway, hands behind his head in his trademark pose. "Riiikuuuu," he coos, raising an eyebrow. "You're so bashful! I gotta say, I like it."

"Stoooooop," Riku somehow magically gets to the door first, shoving it--and Sora-- with more force than is strictly necessary. "You're such a jerk . I can't believe I love you so much."

Sora falls through the threshold laughing raucously, blinking a bit to try to adjust his eyes in the darkness. God, those words! Those words shoot through him like a bullet, pin him to the floor, set him on fire.  Turning, he lets what he's feeling bubble up from his heart and out from between his lips. 

" Say it again ."

Riku slices through the dark like water, his arms going around Sora's waist to draw him close. For the briefest of breathless instances, Sora thinks Riku is going to kiss him, but he doesn't. Instead, he leans in as Sora's arms go around his shoulders, nose brushing against Sora's ear, making him quiver. "I love you," he whispers, and the warm gust of his breath makes Sora's catch in his throat.  

Okay, maybe this isn't going to solve all of Sora's problems. Having his love requited isn't going to fix everything. However, right now, all he can think about is how safe and warm he feels, how alive he is. The feel of Riku's heart pounding furiously in rhythm with his own, the smell of him swaddling Sora in comfort. Sora isn't dead, and for the first time in a long while, that isn’t disappointing. This was worth coming back for; this was worth all of it. 

"You're soaked." Riku rubs his hands briskly up and down Sora's upper arms, worry written on his face. "We need to get you out of these clothes." 

"Why, Riku!" Flirting feels so new and exciting that Sora can't help himself, despite the fact that it seems to make Riku unbearably coy. That's just an added bonus. Sora wants to make Riku blush forever, wants to see how far down his body it goes. "So forward! We haven't even had a first date yet!"

If the older boy's eyes could have hit the back of his head, they would have in that moment. "Okay, one you're a horrible flirt, but I like it. Two, we've pretty much been courting each other our whole lives. Three, you're going to deal with your clothes while I go get you something hot to drink and at least let everyone know you're all right."

Sure, that's the responsible thing to do, but Sora doesn't really want to let Riku out of his sight right now. He wants to keep him right here, pressed up against Sora's wet body like a furnace, melting the snow on his clothes and in his heart. It's been months since he felt like himself, so long since he felt like he had before he died, the fizzy optimism buzzing in his brain. Even fifteen minutes feels like too long to be apart now that he has this. 

So he pouts...spectacularly. 

A fingertip comes up to poke the tip of his nose before the entire hand slides down to cup his cheek.  "Don't pout. I won't be gone twenty minutes. Kairi is probably beside herself and I know you hate that."

That's true, but still. 

"So," Riku makes his way towards the exit, wiggling his fingers towards the fireplace to set it ablaze once again. He smiles over his shoulder in a way Sora hasn't seen before, flirty and...sexy? Is that sexy? It's hard to tell when Sora finds everything Riku does to be kinda sexy, but this sexy seems intentional and makes Sora's stomach flip around a bit. "Slip into something comfortable and wait for me."

It takes a moment to process that before Sora feels his cheeks heating up. "I'm gonna count the minutes! You know I hate waiting!"

Low, sensual chuckling accompanies the closing of the door, and Sora's pulse jumps when he hears the telltale sign of Riku running down the hallway. Did they just...get together? Did all that really just happen? Sora's hands fly up to his burning face, twirling around in giddy giggles.  Is Riku his boyfriend now? Is that a thing?! Sora has never done anything like this before, never felt anything like this before. 

So this is what all the fuss is about...

Peeling off his wet clothes, he leaves them in a soggy heap in the corner and looks around as though the walls can help him get sorted. What is he supposed to wear? When he'd packed for Christmas, he hadn't exactly expected a romantic evening with his new lover. All he had was an old pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt with a Christmas kitty on it that had seen better days. Then again, it's just Riku. Riku wouldn't care what Sora was wearing, had never given a crap about things like that at all. 

In the end, he winds up back in his nest of blankets and pillows from earlier that morning, sighing happily when he can finally feel his toes again. They're tingling in a painful way that reminds him how stupid it was to run off through the snow with no shoes on. He idly wonders what Riku is telling them, back in the hall. Is he giving them the full rundown or just a quick update? Sora hope it's the latter, because the longer he has to think about it, the more embarrassed he feels. 

He makes the decision not to let it bother him tonight; he arches his back, closing his eyes to stretch out warming muscles, feels the heat of the fire on his belly where his shirt rides up. 

"Sora..." 

The gasp of his name from the door surprises him, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open. He startles into the sitting position. "Hey! You're back!"

"Um...yeah," Riku closes the door behind himself, locking it with a sound of finality that seems louder than it really is. He must have not told the others much at all, because not only is he back, but he's gotten changed as well, faded lounge pants and a tank top, an old cardigan sweater with tattered sleeves to keep himself warm. "Sorry, you were just..."

"Hmm?"

"…Stunning."

"Pfft! Have you looked in a mirror?" It's hard to believe that Riku would say that about him when he's clearly the lovelier of the two of them. He looks like a prince out of a storybook, like a king. When Sora looks at himself, all he sees are his baby cheeks and short stature. He doubts he'll ever actually look like a man. Still, if Riku thinks he's beautiful, maybe he is. 

"Here. Sorry, but the lazy mug was the only one awake." Riku holds out said mug of something steaming and spicy before taking a few steps back.  He's looking around like Sora had earlier, confused. It takes Sora a minute before he realizes Riku’s trying to figure out where to sit, where a safe place is in the room. 

Laughing softly, he sets down his drink close to the fire and reaches out his arms, wiggling his fingers impatiently. "What are you doing all the way over there? C'mere."

A moment's hesitation is all Riku allots before he's damn near diving into Sora's arms, knocking them both off balance into the blankets. It makes Sora laugh, which makes Riku laugh, and before he knows it, they're both clinging to each other giggling like they had when they were little boys. Warm air tickles at his ear where Riku nuzzles in, turns Sora's chuckles into squeals of tittering; he weaves his arms beneath Riku's and holds on tight to his shoulder blades. 

They break apart by mere inches to gaze at one another, Sora's vision filled with nothing but the purest turquoise, like glittering sea glass.  Their hands are wandering idly, Riku's down Sora's sides, Sora's down Riku's back, Riku's along Sora's cheekbone, Sora's around Riku's waist to his ribs. Sora wants to map every inch, remember every moment of these first times. Of course they've touched each other in the past, but this is new, this is intent and desire and it's oh so warm.

It isn't until Riku is glancing down at Sora's mouth repeatedly that it hits him...they really are pretty close. He can feel Riku's breath fanning his lips, feels his chest moving against his own in a gentle rhythm. They could…kiss. Sora has never kissed anyone before, never even wanted to, but in this moment? Stars, he wants . They're allowed to do that now, right? They're allowed to kiss. If they want to...

He feels like he's swallowing around his heart as he nervously tilts up his chin, lowering his eyelids just enough that he probably looks ridiculous. But when Riku leans down to meet him in the middle, he realizes it doesn't matter in the least. 

They fit . 

Riku's lips seal against his as if they were once two pieces of a whole, like a single seam of crackling electricity. It's like coming home and being shot into space all at the same time. It rings tinkling bells in his head, sets his blood racing, makes him arch his whole body so they touch everywhere and he can bury his hands in Riku's hair and pull him closer, closer, closer.  

They should have been doing this years ago.

A needy sound erupts between them, himself he thinks, and Sora tears away to breathe, trembling fingers rubbing circles against Riku's scalp. His own head tips back hard into the pillows, eyes remaining tightly shut, feeling overwhelmed from nothing but a simple kiss. None of it deters the man in his arms, whose lips leave a burning path down his chin to his throat, stopping at his jugular where his pulse is rushing like a flooding river under the skin. Riku presses his mouth there as if he's feeling Sora's heartbeat through his lips, like he's been waiting a lifetime to do so. Maybe he has. Everything just seems like so much right now, like it's all hyper-focused, as though this is all there is in the entire universe. Just this tiny bubble of them, just this brief moment. 

"Sora?" Riku cranes up, rubs the bridge of Sora's nose with his thumb to get him to open his eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yeeees," Sora practically purrs, squirming pleasantly. "I just feel a little...overwhelmed?"

"Me too," Riku brushes their lips together again, "but in a good way."

Very good way, Sora thinks. For now, he's having trouble actually forming syllables, his thoughts covered in sweet, syrupy honey. Long minutes pass with them trading nibbling, shy kisses back and forth before Sora can really get himself together enough to speak again. Eventually they wind up curled together in a pile of limbs, Riku's head buried in his neck, their arms and legs tangled together. 

"Was everything okay downstairs?" he speaks the words into his cider, slurping much more loudly than he needs to just to see Riku’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance. The fire had kept it surprisingly hot...or maybe the lazy mug was just doing its job for once. 

Riku tugs the cup from Sora’s hand with a huff. “Of course it was,” he takes a quiet sip. “You know no one is going to be upset. They’re worried about you, Sora.”

That, more than anything, gives him a massive case of the guilts. In many ways, he’d rather they just be angry with him (at least then he’d be able to feign indignation), but concern? He wants to crawl into a hole and bury himself in it. “I should go say something,” he reaches up to his face and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until little starbursts explode behind the lids. 

He feels Riku’s arms tighten around his chest, the older boy’s face pressing into the side of his throat in a way that makes Sora feel protective and strong. He wonders if he should tell Riku that, if Riku would like the thought of Sora’s protection. “Nuh-uh,” Riku shakes his head, Sora can feel his hair tickling under his chin. “You’re mine tonight.”

Mine .

Oh, wow, that makes Sora feel damn near effervescent. Like a tall glass of fizzy soda pouring over the edges all over the floor. In all his travels, in all the things he’s done and all the worlds he’s saved, nothing has been so wondrous as his heart belonging to another. Will he be a better Keyblade wielder because of this? Being desperately in love seems to give you magical powers. 

When he opens his eyes, finds Riku’s blinking a little sleepily at him, he thinks maybe he already does. 

Still…“I spoiled Christmas--! I’m the worst!”

“So what?”

Well…that was not exactly what Sora had expected to hear. Usually Riku was the voice of reason, the responsible one, and now here he was going up on his elbows to cage Sora in, piercing him down with a Very Serious Look. “So what, Sora?”

“Huh?” Sora was so elegant. “Riku, I feel so baaaaaad.”

“Don’t!” For long seconds the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, a tranquil backdrop to the sounds of some kind of merrymaking going on far outside the window. The others must have decided to go play in the snow. 

Riku is clearly thinking of what to say, his brows drawn together, eyes narrowing. It’s a trait that Sora wishes he had, the ability to think before blurting out any stupid thing that came to his head. Finally, Riku draws in a deep breath. “Sora, I don’t know if you know this…but you’re allowed to have bad days. You’re still a human being under all those layers of hero.”

“B-but, it’s Christmas!”

“Especially on Christmas!” He makes a noise of frustration and snatches Sora around the waist, rolling them until Sora finds himself draped over Riku like a blanket, his hips nestled between Riku’s spread thighs. “Listen, do you remember that time I threw a tweenage tantrum and ruined our families’ Christmas party?”

Namine’ had told him once in passing that his memories would probably never quite be what they were again, and over time, Sora had found this to be correct. Even now, as he sifts through his childhood memories, some of it is hazy at best. A bit of it is only feelings, no pictures or sound, just vague recollections of emotion and the people involved. It actually scares him, how much of himself has been scattered across the cosmos and returned in used condition. Memories of Riku are usually the strongest though, the clearest in his mind’s eye and this trend holds true now. 

“Yeees!” he props his chin on Riku’s chest and grins. “Oh my god, I can remember you stomping out of the room like an absolute toddler. Wouldn’t speak to anyone! Your mom grounded you for life . What were you even upset over?!”

Riku has the courtesy to blush prettily and roll his eyes. “Hell if I know, I was eleven. That’s not the point. Do you remember coming to my window that night?” Sora nods. “Do you remember what you told me?”

Sora does not. His distress at not being able to remember properly must show on his face because Riku interjects quickly. “You told me it was okay. It was okay if I had a bad night, because not all my nights were going to be bad. Then you gave me my Christmas present and promised me you were always going to be there…whether I had a bad night or not.”

Now that Riku mentions it, Sora does remember. He’d found the most flawless shell on the beach after a storm, big and iridescent on the inside like a soap bubble in the sunshine. It was the size of his head! His mother had helped him powder glitter on the more plain outer shell, greenish-blue like the color of Riku’s eyes. He’d been so proud of it when he’d finished, so happy to give it to Riku that night. There’s a snapshot in Sora’s heart of Riku’s face when he’d presented it to him, tender and open in a way that would become rarer and rarer in the coming years.  

“That was the best seashell…ever.”

“I still have it.” 

“Do you?” Sora feels his cheeks heat up, reaching up to brush Riku’s collarbone with both his thumbs in a slow caress. “Riiiikkuuuuu.”

“Of course, it was beautiful and you made it for me!” Riku replies as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “What I’m trying to say though…is that no matter how bad of a night you have, I am always going to love you. I will always be here. Always.”

Sora wonders if it’s possible for a person to turn into a puddle of goo, because he swears he can feel himself melting. He’s like a hard candy out in the sun, dissolving into a shiny little smear of sugary goodness. “Always?” he echoes back, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Always,” Riku brushes Sora’s hair back from his face, kisses his forehead, sets off a flurry of butterflies in his belly. “Cause I had a really bad night once and you never gave up on me for a second. Chased me around the whole damn universe! Can’t let you one up me.”

Sora grins, walking fingers up Riku’s chest until they’re face to face again, lips close enough to share breath. “I really liked that little skirt of yours back then. Not as much as those trousers you wore tonight though. Did I mention they make your butt look amazing? Because they do. Make your butt amazing.”

Sputtering a little, Riku eventually settles on pleased embarrassment. “You…hadn’t mentioned it, no.”

“Mmmm.”

Sora is thinking about how long he can possibly hold his breath while they kiss (he thinks he can last at least two minutes) when a loud impact from the window startles them both apart. Sora’s arm goes protectively over Riku, Kingdom Key glittering firmly in his hand, assessing the situation as quickly as possible. There’s no enemies, no heartless, no Xehanort, no Yozora…just snow sticking in wet clumps to the outside of his windowpane, accompanied by shouting and cheering. 

So maybe the keyblade was a bit of overkill, so sue him. He’s a bit jumpier than he used to be!

Stumbling out of their nest of warmth (much to Riku’s grumbling dismay), Sora goes to the window and opens it, shaking his head like a puppy when a bit of snow tumbles down into his hair. His earlier evaluation of what was going on is right; all his friends are far below in the courtyard playing, waving and shouting at him to come down. He smiles shyly and waves back, feeling…full. He feels complete and happy and content. The ripples in his heart are easing, the unhappy stone he’d been carrying around for months sinking to the bottom of his metaphysical  pond to be forgotten with all his other sorrow. 

“Maybe later!” he calls down, shrugging in an exaggerated way. “We’re busy!”

Catcalls and whistles answer back—Roxas yells something really inappropriate that makes Sora blush—in the moments before Riku reaches around him to close the window and drag him back to the fire by his belt loops. 

Well…that’s that then!

“I told you, you’re mine tonight.” Riku, in a display of strength that makes Sora’s stomach twist in a satisfying way, lifts him bodily and tosses him back into the pile of warm blankets. He’s on him a split second later, pressing their mouths together in what seems to be an attempt to kiss the life out of him. 

And as he hears the jingling of bells high above them, merry and bright, Sora thinks Santa really did always have the right thing to say afterall.