Work Text:
“Are you waiting for someone?”
The voice came from somewhere far away, or perhaps that was just how Sora heard most people these days. Ever since he’d arrived here, in this world so much like his own and yet completely different, everything had felt off. He couldn’t place what it was; everything was real, but every interaction held a sort of false, cheap feel to it. People’s smiles were shallow, their eyes either had too much light to them or not enough, and he took notice of the fact that nobody touched one another. Not so much as a bump, a graze, a soft nudge.
There was nothing. Empty, shallow. Unremarkable.
Sora looked up, trying to find the source of the voice. He’d been puttering around on his phone, unsure of where he’d gotten it. The case felt familiar. Red and black, a yellow crown. It looked like something he’d use, at least judging by the large crown pendant he seemed to have always had on. But he didn’t remember where it came from. He couldn’t remember where the necklace had come from, either.
For some reason, that bothered him.
“Uh... excuse me?” Sora spoke out into the empty air. His breath twirled around his face in a haze from the cold air, and he didn’t think he’d have found another person out at this time of night. The streets were slick with rain, the neon glow of the cityscape reflecting around him in every dark window, every oozing stream of water heading towards the storm drains. He was standing under one of the many overhangs, a closed shop behind him, the rain pattering off the gray canvas cover over his head as he glanced around.
Maybe he’d just imagined it?
“I asked if you were waiting for someone. Are you?” The voice came again, this time closer. Sora whipped his head to the right, almost jumping out of his skin at the sight of a man he didn’t recognize walking up to him. The misting rain dripped onto his clothes, soaking up instantly. His hair didn’t seem so lucky though, silver strands plastered to his face and scalp as he stepped under the canvas overhang. Sora stared at the man for a long moment, unsure why he felt like he was forgetting something. The cold metal of his necklace sent chills up his spine, his hand fidgeting with the leather case of his phone. Something didn’t feel right.
What was he forgetting? Or was it a somebody?
“I, uh... I think so?” Sora muttered, frowning as he looked away from the man and out at the tall buildings stretching far and wide. Why did this feel familiar? Where had he seen a place like this before, and why did it make him feel so tired to think about? The feeling persisted, digging its claws into his throat as if it wanted to suffocate him. Sora felt his hands start to shake. It must just be cold, no other reason. “I can’t exactly remember... but I feel like I’m supposed to be waiting for someone.”
“You don’t remember?” The strange man asked, leaning his back against the cold, wet brickwork of the building behind them. His arms crossed, and Sora glanced over to him to see the man’s eyes staring wistfully up at the cloudy sky. The rain continued, the mist growing in size until the droplets hit the ground hard and heavy, battering the street in front of them. Sora didn’t know who this man was, but he couldn’t help but notice how sad he looked. It hurt. “It’ll be fine. He’ll show up eventually.”
Why did it hurt? Who was this guy, anyway?
“How do you know it’s a guy?” Sora asked, stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets. He swallowed hard, wondering if there was any chance that this stranger might know something about who he was. Maybe even where he’d come from. It wasn’t so wrong to want answers, was it? Even if he found himself looking for them in the wrong places, he needed to know. He needed to know why he always came back to this same exact spot, why he felt the pull in his heart to be here. Why he felt like having this stranger here made him feel so relieved and yet, so scared at the same time.
“Lucky guess.” The man said, but there was something in his voice that felt softer. When he tore his gaze from the sky, he looked right back at Sora, something impossible to understand dancing in his eyes. They had so much color to them, brilliant teal in an otherwise grayscale world, and Sora felt like he forgot how to breathe. That color reminded him of something, of a feeling he’d forgotten.
Joy. Pure, wonderful joy.
The smell of sea salt, sunshine, sand. Sand beneath his feet, between his fingers, against his neck. Napping on a beach, a hazy face with those teal eyes looking back at him, teasing him. Citrus fruit and children laughing. The joy of being a kid, of growing up, of hoping to see someone special. A meteor shower, a hand holding his own. An oath to protect, shining bright and silver under the falling stars.
A familiar weight around his neck, weighing him down, grounding him in the darkness to something strong and familiar.
“I know you... but, how?” Sora breathed, unsure of what exactly came next. The man looked at him with those soft eyes, a deep-seated longing buried in their depths as he uncrossed his arms. He extended a hand to Sora then, and Sora recalled something else. It took the breath out of him, and his head began to ache as sharp daggers of the past cut into his flesh, pain lancing across his body as he started to remember.
Destruction. Crashing waves and tumbling rocks. Sorrow, bitter and metallic on his tongue.
Determination. Fighting for what he cared for. Refusing to give up, even when it became hopeless.
Discontent. Uncertainty in who he was, who others believed him to be. Failure and its deadly, poisonous sting.
Something sweeter crossed his tongue. The bitter fell away, and Sora stared at the man before him with wide eyes and parted lips, his heart cracking inside his chest as a name floated into view. The letters danced behind his eyes, tears sticking to his lashes as he reached out slowly, one trembling hand touching the outstretched palm of the stranger’s fingers.
“Riku?” Sora murmured, suddenly violently aware of the odd, unnatural air of this place. This was not home. This was not his island. It wasn’t where he was meant to be, no matter how much the sticky lull of hopelessness tried to convince him it was. The feeling of warm, steady fingers curling around his soothed the aching in his chest.
Riku. Riku was here. He was waiting for Riku.
“Hey, Sora.” Riku finally said, voice impossibly gentle. Sora stepped closer then, and in a moment of pure relief, threw his arms tightly around Riku’s neck. He squeezed tightly, burying his face in the damp shoulder of Riku’s jacket. He smelled like home. Gods, how Sora wanted to go home. “I’ve got you. I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”
“It’s okay, Riku... you came. That’s all that matters now.”