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Deep within the walls of Disney Castle laughter echoed from the King’s grand dining room. The guardians of light and all their friends sat around a dark mahogany table that spanned from one side of the room to the other. A beautiful rendition of the wealth and prosperity of a King having spared no expense, the table was adorned with food and drink and merriment beyond what the eyes could see. It was bustling with activity as glasses clinked, hugs were given, and firm hand shakes were taken. But above it all, the clinking of glass on glass was drowned out by Sora’s cheery voice.
The occasion?
A celebrated victory fit for a King and his pals, but not just for any old victory...but for The Victory. The Battle had been won and nobody could re-tell it over and over again better then Sora could...Or exaggerate it.
In a feathered hand Donald tipped his third...ish...glass of something damn fine and bubbly down his gullet. He leaned far back in his chair and rolled his tired eyes to Sora’s flailing arms and exuberant noises. Able to catch only half of what Sora was wildly exclaiming, Donald hummed in a warm haze, smiling when the room started to spin. He raised a loose hand for another glass to be placed within it, the drink popping into existence a moment later and being downed in the next. Despite the whirlwind of noise, it was a serene experience for Donald to sit and laugh with friends both old and new.
There was a time when he believed in earnest this moment would never happen.
And there was an even worse time when he thought he’d never come home.
But there was the worst moment, when Donald had accepted that all would be lost and their fighting was for nothing.
For once he was filled with glee to be proven wrong and be all but drowning in his King’s finest liquor. Donald was going to indulge to the fullest at a table so nicely put together in their honor and nobody could tell him different. The victory had been so rightfully fought and clawed for and for once they’d come out on top and won…and that was something worth celebrating over.
It was about damn time, too.
Donald snickered within his glass when Sora leaned across the table and tried to snag a drink from one of their unsuspecting friends. But the teen was stopped by an invisible barrier; it seemed a bit cruel and unnecessary to deny him a taste but Donald didn’t make the rules. Their eyes caught and Sora jutted out his lip and said words that might as well have been gibberish to Donald but he got the gist of it.
“Maybe in a year if you’re lucky.” Donald tipped his drink back in a mocking gesture and was unsure if he’d actually said that. Sora rolled his eyes and while his lips moved, not a single word filtered in through Donald’s head.
It took all of a few seconds for Sora to resume shoveling food into his mouth and continue his grandiose tales of their adventures over the past few years. Donald eyed him for a moment longer before resting his head back and wondering in a brief haze if he should slow it down and stop his glass from being refilled for the…fourth?...Fifth…
Eighth…
Maybe nine.
Ten—
Oh, well…apparently there’s no more liquor in the back.
Donald didn’t quite believe that. But regardless, a smile was plastered to his face while he watched Sora’s cheeks flush with life and energy as he retold for the millionth time one of their past adventures. In the grand scheme of it, Donald mused it wouldn’t have been so bad to let him have his first glass. Maybe it was all the drinks catching up to him, but Donald wanted nothing more in those moments to snap his fingers and for a slender glass to appear in his young friend’s hand.
To see the surprise light up Sora’s face.
To watch him take that first sip…Donald’s fingers were already halfway together when Sora abruptly stood and called out for quiet, he had an announcement to make. The buzzing hum over the table stilled and all eyes traced back to Sora, who rubbed the back of his head and flashed an easy grin.
“Thank you…all of you, for this. I would love to stay longer but before I go home I have something I need to check on.”
Even though Donald was having trouble keeping his focus, that certainly got his attention, as did quite a few others.
“It can’t wait?” Kairi stood next to Sora and tipped her head to the side, placing her hand on his shoulder. She made a noise in protest and shook her head. “It’s been so long since we’ve been home.”
“Sorry,” Sora said with a sheepish grin, placing his hand over hers before removing it. “This can’t wait. But I promise I’ll be quick. You won’t even notice I’m gone, it’ll be that quick! Donald?”
Donald flushed a bright red when all eyes roamed to him. It took a bit too long for him to sputter and try to convey that he wasn’t so undeniably wasted that he couldn’t put two words together. He did his best to ignore their friends silent judgment and instead waved his hand for Sora to speak.
“Can I borrow your ship?” Sora pressed his lips together at the last second from what suspiciously looked to Donald like the start of a smirk. When Donald opened his beak to immediately deny that absurd request, Sora beamed at him and leaned far over the table to grasp his shoulders. “Thanks, you’re the best!”
The world spun in a violent whoosh when Donald was shaken and possibly hugged, he couldn’t tell, and Sora plopped back in his seat. Idle chatter resumed around them and Donald would have slid out of his chair had it not been for Goofy pulling him up.
Across the table, Riku snorted and lightly smacked Sora in the chest with the back of his hand. “Where are you going that's so much more important than—ya know—going home and letting our families know we haven't died.”
A brief, sharp scowl flitted over Sora’s face before it turned pouty and he lightly punched his friend's shoulder. “I just gotta go check on something, it’s no big deal. My mom’s been waiting for so long, she can wait a little longer.”
That struck odd, even in Donald's deteriorating state.
To those who heard Sora, the oddity of it bounced around the table but nobody commented on it.
“Just hurry back, alright?”
Sora nodded at Riku with that same easy grin, finishing off his third plate of food.
Donald doesn't remember the rest of that evening.
Only vague, snipping moments.
It was nothing important—is what he tells himself.
Not entirely sure how he got back to his room but for a sneaking suspicion his lifelong friend had all but dragged his sorry ass there, he woke up the next morning feeling like death and decided sleep was best. The next day arrived and...typical, Sora had already left in his gummi ship that Donald had on no uncertain terms given permission for him to take. But from what Donald did remember of that evening, that first glass he’d wanted to give him—they would do that when Sora came back, before he'd have to go home.
The days passed like normal, in the comfort of peace, surrounded by friends old and new.
Nobody cared to comment how a week turned to two.
Or how a month turned to three.
It was slow to start but gaining speed when those closest to Sora asked, “Where is he?” and nobody had an answer. First came worry, which bubbled easily into outright concern that drifted into something like hysteria. No way to reach him and one day when they had the thought to check the tracker implanted in Donald’s gummi ship, they could only stare at the bright blue screen.
No marker.
No indicator or tag from Donald’s ship.
Nothing.
The ship was gone, nowhere to be seen on their grid.
That was the exact moment that true panic set in. It was as though a hurricane tore through their world as they realized they’d been sitting there—twiddling their thumbs—and expected that all was well.
The victory had been won.
That seemed rather shallow now, in retrospect, as they tore the worlds apart and went on an endless search for Sora.
They never found a trace.
Three months turned to four.
Rounded five.
Hit six.
And surpassed seven.
A refusal and complete denial to give up.
Eight.
‘No…’
‘We're not going to—’
Nine.
‘No!’
‘We're not—’
‘We can’t—’
Ten.
‘Why can't we just…’
Elev—
‘...He might be…’
It was in the comfort and silence of friends, both old and new, that they held a funeral.
It was a strange experience for Donald, waking slowly, eyes to the ceiling within his dark bedroom. A hand twitched beside him over the blanket on his bed.
Hm.
It would be best to be quiet then. Donald inched out of bed, careful not to wake her. That wouldn't be pretty if he did wake her, regardless of what his intentions were.
It'd been a year.
Or maybe three.
Five...
…Since he'd thought of spiked hair and a salt ladled sea breeze.
Donald slowly walked around his bed and he yawned within his hand. He reached his bedroom door and took the handle and turned it.
Not many things so deeply unsettled Donald.
But, in his case, it was pretty weird when he opened his bedroom door and instead of the carpeted hallway and large window from within Disney Castle greeting him, he stepped out into the cockpit of his gummi ship. The same gummi ship they'd found years ago, obliterated to hell so deep within the space between worlds with no body or explanation in sight.
He blinked.
Nope.
Still there.
He turned around.
Huh.
The door to his room was gone.
“What in the fu—”
A laugh cut through the air and effectively stopped the curse about to leave his beak. So young and sincere the laugh was; it was a sound he’d missed and forgotten about all at once.
Spiked hair and sea breezes.
He stilled and whirled back around, eyes growing wide and name all but exploding from his beak.
“Yeah, hi Donald.”
Sora sat in the captain's seat, spinning idly in the chair, puffing air up past his forehead and pushing his spiked hair back. He looked annoyed and Donald couldn’t blame him. An all too familiar impatient look was thrown Donald’s way and what could he do but shrug about it; for fuck’s sake he’d spent many sleepless nights searching for him like the rest of them had. And all it took to find Sora was to fall asleep?
How the fuck was Donald supposed to know that.
They stood and sat at an awkward impasse.
“So...” Sora muttered. “It's...been a while.”
“...Uh huh.” Donald squinted and took a small step forward, wondering what the hell was going on here but, he wasn't too sure he actually wanted to dive in and question it.
Just in case this wasn't real.
It felt real—very much so—when he took a hesitant seat next to his young friend.
More uncomfortable silence.
Sora twitched. He stopped spinning and looked like he wanted to say something, anything. But he remained quiet and sullen.
Donald glanced his way, breaking the awkward, heavy silence by coughing into a balled up fist. “So, how are you?”
The ghost of a smile appeared over Sora’s face. “I'm okay.”
Donald crossed his arms and snorted in disbelief, he inclined his beak in question. “Just okay?”
“Yeah, everything's okay.”
He dropped it.
Again, he wasn’t too sure he wanted to question this.
“So...” Donald said, strumming his fingers along the arm rest. “What—”
“You wanna go to a cafe or something?”
Donald startled within his seat and blinked a few times before he peered up at Sora's eager, yet nervously grinning face. He snorted again but smiled in fond remembrance, where an odd sort of ache thrummed within the center of his chest.
“I have a better idea.”
It was another strange experience for Donald when he blinked and was standing with Sora by his side. The two were in a busy thrumming bar of sorts with the smell of greasy food and the sound of drunken voices in the air.
Sora grinned broadly and stared down at Donald, his voice giddy as he said, “Wait…wait wait, you're actually gonna let me—”
“You're old enough.” Donald shrugged and took a tentative step forward. He did his best to ignore how the people inside blurred in and out of focus like glitches on a screen.
Before he had the chance to process the fact that none of the people had distinguishable faces, they were seated in a booth and Sora was looking at a menu. His eyes were bright and shining as he said, “I don't know what I want.”
Donald strummed his fingers over the table's hard surface and again shrugged on it. “They make pretty good cocktails here. You can order anything, I'll put it on my tab.”
He knew this place well and didn't need to look at a menu.
Or talk to a waitress.
“Can I have what you're having?”
Donald sipped his drink and chuckled at the way Sora was so intently staring at his mug. “Sure kiddo, whatever you want.”
Sora was worrying his lower lip and moving his head in anticipation as a drink in a tall glass was presented in front of him. Its red interior clashed with bright blue swirls amiss floating greens.
Oh, he was most definitely going to feel that.
Donald leaned on the table by his elbow and smiled into his hand as Sora drank from the straw and looked up at him in surprise. His heart gave another odd, but much sharper pang when his young friend looked between the drink and him and said, “It's really...really good.”
He drank more of it and said, “It's fizzy.”
Donald snorted laughter at that. “Just don't drink too fast, you'll hate your life later if you do.”
For a brief moment Sora stiffened, but he relaxed just as quickly and despite Donald's warning kept frequenting his drink. They sat in a more comfortable silence, the atmosphere warm and buzzing with energy. Never reaching the end of his drink, Donald sipped and glanced up at Sora, watching in amusement at the beginnings of a flush highlighting his cheeks.
Hmph.
He narrowed his eyes a little, seeing his friend's tall drink halfway gone.
“Kiddo…you really should slow down, you’re going to puke all over the table if you don’t.”
Sora giggled and lifted his head, eyes widening a little, and Donald hid another amused smile in his hand.
“Yeah, yeah yeah sure,” Sora said, letting his head fall into his hand as he leaned over the table. “So you never told me how you're doing.”
Narrowing his eyes more, Donald waved him off and said, “There’s nothing new, same old same old.”
“Oh come on,” he spat. Almost missing the straw, Sora sipped and said, “Don't do that.”
Eyeing the table, Donald strummed his fingers along it until it began to hurt.
“What do you wanna know,” he mumbled.
Sora leaned back in his seat and rested his arms behind his head. “Anything and everything.”
Scratching the back of his neck and having nothing to go off of, Donald heavily sighed and said, “We haven't come across any more heartless, which is good, I guess. The worlds—”
“ Donald , that’s not what I meant,” Sora said with an exaggerated eye roll, like it should have been obvious what he was asking. He took another sip of his drink and stared off to the side. “I wanna know what's up with you .”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m fine.” Donald tightened his hands around his glass and ground his beak down hard. The feathers over his arms pricked when a person all but de-materialized in front of them and seemed to blow away like ash out the open door of the bar. More people followed after, their silhouettes hovering still for a few seconds and then crumbling to dust.
Sora was staring at his half filled drink and he scowled into it. “You're mad at me, right?”
“Not at you...no,” he said, wanting to be at least somewhat truthful. He lifted his beak to give his friend a level stare, despite the pang that had turned into more of a sharp stab going straight through his chest. A bitter, nasty wound was being reopened into something vile and black that tore along the edges of his heart.
Donald grasped his mug and took a strong swig of his drink. Even though he knew it wouldn't help or work here—wherever here was—he drank anyway and stared listless to the side. The view around them was growing fuzzy as though all the colors were morphing together.
Sora made a noise that sounded like he was in pain and when Donald flicked his gaze back, his young friend was staring at his lap and sighed with his eyes closed. “Can I take my drink to go?”
Before Donald could answer, he blinked and found himself walking through the long carpeted hallways of Disney Castle. Sora was beside him as they walked, slowly sipping the drink in his hands.
“This is really good,” Sora remarked.
“What were you doing so far off the grid?”
Sora hardly flinched at Donald's words or for the resenting, angry tone in his voice. “I needed to check something.”
Donald was glaring at the floor as they walked. His hands clenched tightly by his side, he repeated his question. More of a demand, actually, while the nasty blackness, oozing thick and toxic, leaked from out the sides of his chest. It glistened sharply against his white feathers and stained his clothes. His eyes narrowed when the same answer was given. He stopped and glared upwards and jutted out his hand, halting them. “Stop going in circles about this. Why were you—”
“It doesn't matter anymore, I—”
“Did you crash?” Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, to try and quell the bleeding from around his sides, Donald yelled, “Were you hurt? Did somebody take you? Are you alone out there? What happened to you?!”
Looking into his drink and swirling it, Sora shrugged. “...I don't remember.”
Donald wasn't sure he believed—
In a sharp snap of his head that made Donald pause and blink outright, Sora glared down at him. “Believe me. I don't remember anymore. I remember the party…and you weren't there when I left. And now I'm here.”
Oh.
So...
“Is that why I'm here?”
Sora sipped his drink and furrowed his brow.
Better clarifying himself, Donald waved a dismissive hand and said, “Because I missed my chance to say goodbye to you. Is that what this is?”
Donald wiped furiously at his eyes. “Am I holding you back? Is that why we're here?”
His voice wavered. “What am I supposed to do?”
Sora was quietly sitting in front of him, the brightly colored drink off to the side was a quarter filled.
“...Let you go...?”
Looking upwards with that same easy grin, Sora had his head relaxed in his hand and he shrugged in that carefree way of his that always had made Donald feel warm and that possibilities in life were endless.
That there was hope even in the darkest of rooms.
Donald sat with a dull thump and all but growled, “I can't do that. I—”
Sora laughed and this only confused Donald as he clutched his stomach and continued to laugh until he fell to his back.
Donald sniffled into the back of his hand and gave a watery smile, cocking his brow he said, “You're drunk.”
Snickering and resting an arm over his stomach, Sora said, “Maybe. But Donald, what does that even mean, 'letting me go?' Sounds like you're releasing balloons to the sky. I don't need you to do something dumb like that, I don't need you to do anything at all. I just want you to be okay.”
Fuck.
It hurt.
It tore him in two and cleaved away what was left in his chest.
It tore him in three.
Breathing heavily, Donald’s hands swished out in front of him and he jabbed a finger in Sora's flushed face. “I will never be okay with this.”
“You don't have to be. Do you really think I'm happy I'm here? Donald, news flash, I'm not. But ya know, I've learned something kinda weird.”
Donald buried his head within his hands, he couldn't look up.
He just wouldn't.
He refused to.
As Sora said, “Everything's okay...weird right? And if I can be okay, then so can you.”
It was empty, the glass.
When Donald eventually looked up, he was sitting alone in a darkened hallway.
It was a weird experience for Donald to wake and blink up to the ceiling of his bedroom. To feel strange in the cracked orange light of dawn, along with all the promises that she brings with the new day.
As the sun rises.
And conquers.
And remind us all that she's still here.
That she'll always remain.
Does he feel empty?
No.
Not really.
Not anymore.
Sad?
Duh.
Obviously.
But he knows with a gentle smile that one day—in the in-between—they'll meet again.
Some day they'll continue on.
Singing.
Living.
Breathing.
Laughing.
Fighting.
Like good soldiers do.