Chapter Text
– Sora –
Something was off about Kairi.
After spending most of his life with her, Sora knew how to tell when something was up. Usually, she would be quick to smile at a joke. She would wake up long before him, getting things done while he was still napping on the beach. Sora had returned home several weeks ago now. He thought things had gone back to normal – at least, as normal as the lives of two Keyblade wielders could possibly be. But a few days ago, Kairi started smiling less. She started sleeping more – sometimes even longer than him.
The most worrying aspect of the situation came from the knowledge that if something was wrong, normally, she’d tell him about it. They’d made a promise that, if something was wrong, with either of them, they’d tell each other. No secrets. Nada.
But she told him nothing.
Day after day, Kairi continued to act strange. Sora crossed paths with her on the beaten-down paths of Destiny Islands, trained with her in the grand castle in the Land of Departure, and shared sea salt ice cream with her on the Twilight Town clock tower – and whenever their eyes met, she hurriedly glanced away. When he asked her if she was okay, she mumbled a small “yeah” and continued whatever she was doing. Walking in a hurry, swinging her Keyblade recklessly, gobbling up blue ice cream like it was her only solace in a lonely world, her only company.
And Sora couldn’t help but scratch his head. On the clock tower that afternoon, she looked at that ice cream more than she looked at him. I’m here, he wanted to say. That ice cream – it'll be gone before you know it. And it can’t hold your hand. But I’m here, and I can hold your hand. Her delicate hands gripped the popsicle stick so tightly her knuckles were white. It was her lifeline. But Sora wanted to be her lifeline. Kairi, I’ll keep you safe.
Sora made sure to give her space, as much as he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem and make her feel better right this very second. He was very careful about this. He didn’t want to be in her face when she didn’t want him there. He knew that, to be a good boyfriend, he needed to respect her boundaries. But as they sat on the clock tower that day, he couldn’t help but ask her again.
“Kairi, are you sure you’re doing okay?”
Kairi was still holding the ice cream as tightly as ever. Her eyes had been darting between the treat and the tram that coasted constantly far below and in the distance. She quickly met his gaze, then looked away again. “Yes. I’m fine, Sora. Thanks for asking.”
But to Sora, she didn’t look fine. As he watched, she pulled another ice cream out of the plastic bag from the ice cream store. And she took a big bite out of it, quickly swallowing, at a speed that seemed unnatural. He hadn’t even known she’d bought more than two.
Sora looked at his own ice cream, half-consumed and starting to drip. He licked at it, his tongue savoring the sugary but salty taste. It reminded him of the bittersweet nature of life. Of the countless joys he would experience that would be inevitably tempered by myriad unbearable losses. Memories from the past and visions of the future flooded his head. Was it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Kairi was looking at him intently, her blue eyes narrowed with love, in concern. “Sora... Are you okay?”
Sora blinked at her, suddenly feeling misty-eyed. “Yeah. Why?”
She wiped his cheek with her hand. “You’re crying.”
He touched his other cheek, surprised when his fingers came away slightly wet. “I -- I don’t understand. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said, taking his hand. “If you’re still thinking about --”
He pulled his hand away, quickly interrupting her. “No. I’m not. Just drop it.” But as he looked up to see her face, he was shocked by the way her eyes drooped, her lips slightly parted as if she simply didn’t have the energy to close her mouth. She looked tired. Too tired.
Her two popsicle sticks lay on top of the bag, licked completely dry.
“Kairi,” he said, “if something’s wrong, tell me. We made a promise.”
But she only shook her head. Her words were slightly slurred, as if she wasn’t thinking straight. “Really, I’m all good, Sora. Trust me. I’m a Keyblade wielder, and a Princess of Heart. Nothing’s going to hurt me. Just... a little tired.”
Sora didn’t press her. He wanted to believe that she was just tired. Minutes later, they were headed down the steps of the clock tower, intending to get in their Gummi Ship and fly back to the islands. Sora wanted to get Kairi home early and let her sleep.
Besides, he had to remember Kairi’s boundaries. He couldn’t overreact to every little problem of hers. She wouldn’t want him nagging her, especially not when she was fatigued like this. She simply wouldn’t have the energy to deal with him.
But he forgot all about boundaries the day Kairi disappeared.
– Kairi –
She couldn’t remember the last time Sora had acted normal.
In Kairi’s mind, her days before arriving on the islands were nonexistent. And her earliest memory – that first memory on the islands – was a little boy with spiky brown hair grabbing her by the shoulders, pulling her up on her unsteady, tiny feet. He asked her what her name was, and she almost couldn’t remember. “K-kairi,” she said.
“Nice to meet you! My name’s Sora!”
And they were as close as pages in a book ever since.
So, Kairi could say she knew Sora pretty well. And Sora was only acting... sorta like Sora these days, she supposed. Her lifetime friend was taking shorter but more frequent naps on the beach. His smiles looked strained, almost forced, and she could spot bits of his dinner on his once pristine white teeth. She remembered making a promise with him, to share their hardships, to lighten the burdens when possible, to make sure they were always taking care of each other. And he was apparently keeping her shut up in the dark.
“Sora,” she said one night as they watched a meteor shower on the islands. The weather was temperate for their world. The heat had faded throughout the evening, leaving the two with a cool breeze that made their hair blow a little in the wind – not too much to be uncomfortable, but enough to chase away the last remnants of the horribly humid afternoon. The stars raced across the sky like rain down a windshield, or tears on a face. Kairi blinked, noting the way the celestial trails remained in her mind for just a moment before vanishing into the oblivion of the sky and the forgotten chambers of her memory. Maybe she could make a wish on each one. Let me keep you safe. “Sora, is everything alright?”
Sora didn’t answer right away. His wide blue eyes were fixed on the stars, and he ran a hand through his hair like he always did. He’d had the habit since he was a young boy. Like the fleeting meteors, this serene, still image of Sora lingered in Kairi’s eyes, in her mind for just a moment.
Suddenly he turned, startling Kairi out of her reverie. “Yeah, everything’s good. Are you doing okay, Kairi?”
She froze for a moment, then made a small snort. “Me, okay? Of course. You’re the one who’s staring at the sky like this moment’s about to end.”
Sora’s eyes widened in thought. “I know we never really live in the present. This moment... as we think about it, it’s already turning into the next. It’s strange, really. I think a lot about how every moment is going to pass someday, and time will continue on even when we’re not here. It makes me sad sometimes. I’m just happy I get to share this moment, and all the rest, with you, Kairi. But... I could’ve sworn you were staring at the stars, too.”
Kairi stopped again. Had she been lost in thought too? But her train of thought, thundering down the tracks in her brain, soon toppled out of her skull, falling over the edge and into the glittery sand. Sora was doing it again. Playing with his hair, shifting a brown spike between his fingers. His hair looked almost black in the starlight, shining faintly as the meteors rocketed down. He gave it a little tug, as if trying to will it into place. Sora was playing with his hair more than usual – another sign that something wasn’t right.
“Is there something wrong with your hair, Sora?” she inquired softly, not wanting to upset him.
Sora’s hands quickly darted into his pockets. “No, nothing! It just... feels a little pokier than usual today. I’ve been thinking about... smoothing it down, making it softer and more... acceptable, I guess? More... normal?”
Kairi easily saw through his mumbles. But she tried not to press too hard. “Sora, remember what you promised? You’d tell me if something was wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong, I swear,” Sora said. “I would tell you if I needed help.”
Kairi didn’t want to push him. And she didn’t -- at least, not that night. They watched the stars fall early into the morning, the details etching themselves into Kairi’s heart in a more permanent way than the paths of sparkly light she dimly remembered from earlier. Because as Sora had said, this moment would pass, like any other. She needed to place it carefully in her heart, where it could live on as long as that heart beat and her lungs breathed. She didn’t want to upset the delicate balance of the scene by pushing too hard.
But the day she found him lying, his chest motionless, his eyes open but unseeing, on the bottom step of her front porch --
She forgot all about pressing too hard as she pushed on his chest, with all the strength her trembling arms could offer, and breathed forcefully into his still lungs with every bit of air she could muster.