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He’s used to waking up alone.
Under cold sheets, as pale as his skin and more, thin yet layered and cool.
It’s been like that since his relatively early childhood - he was the type of child that had relished in the attention of his parents, yes, but it had soon been tossed aside for their work; so he’d naturally found himself sleeping alone most nights, soothing himself back to sleep whenever nightmares hit.
He was hardly used to waking up to an enveloping warmth, arms tucked ‘round his waist, breath warm and almost ticklish against the crown of his head. That being said - it did explain why he was able to sleep a lot more soundly, now.
Admittedly - and abashedly - he’d shifted in slight alarm the first time it had happened - so much so that he’d fallen out of bed. He’d hit the floor with a surprisingly loud’ thump!’, banged his head on the bedside table on the way down, and released a harsh curse from his mouth that probably seemed particularly uncharacteristic of him.
Not loud enough to wake the house, of course - but it wouldn’t have mattered; it was only the two of them in it, anyway.
They didn’t talk about that first time - not unless it was for joking purposes, really.
The quiet and all but abandon of the house was obvious, and Riku didn’t blame Terra for noticing it - he’d divulged what information he could about his parents’ work, their typical vanishing acts, how he’d grown so independent because of it - and while he’d seen pity flash in the brunet’s eyes, it may have just been his own imagination.
He’d done his own brushing off of the matter, of course; it was behind them now, there was nothing he could do about it.
Riku has always been the type to wake up early - not usually at the crack of dawn, but near and close enough - of his own free will and his own sleeping habits ( terrible ones, really, from the last few years of fighting; barely any sleep, but he doesn’t let it deter his form ).
His eyes shy from the sun filtering through the curtains, ivory in colour, as thin as the sheets but useful - and the sweet tang of sea-salt, of the ocean, hits his nose at the same time the waves roll against his ears.
It’s a familiar setting - it’s become familiar, now, to have warmth beside him, encompassing him the way it is.
Well - the way he is.
And Riku considers it a blessing, really; Terra’s a miracle in and of itself, one Riku’s hardly going to let go of any time soon, if he can help it.
He shifts briefly, winces momentarily as a jolt of pain flashes down his side - there’s a scar on his right hip that would probably always linger; one not many people knew about - though eventually he soothes once more, allows his muscles to relax, opens his eyes to the light and the world around them.
The first thing he spots, in all honesty, is skin a bit more tanned than his own - there’s a scent attached that he can only really describe as Terra that hits his senses at the same time - and, almost subconsciously, his lips curl into a soft little smile of their own accord.
The War’s over, they’ve all returned to some semblance of normality - then again, what used to be ‘normal’, after years of fighting, has now become ‘strange’, and they’re all taking their time to adjust - and while Riku, Sora and Kairi are far more used to life on the Islands than the others, it’s almost an excuse to spend time with them -- to help them get used to the legends and lore, the daily life of fishermen and business people who often roam the Mainlands.
It’s probably not going to be their main profession, that he knows; the Worlds will always need protecting.
But, for the moment, it’s enough.
Without really thinking, pale digits rise to brush lingering strands from the brunet’s face - this peacefulness is really only something Riku can see while he’s dozing, and the calm inhale and exhale he gives is a soothing sound in and of itself.
Though Terra does seem to stir a bit at that, for which Riku’s hand hesitates; and eventually allows the pads of his fingers to run along his cheek in what he hopes - and eventually sees - is a manner calming enough to have him relaxing under his touch, fingers cold against his skin.
It’s-- almost strange, how normal a thing like this has become - but he wouldn’t change it for all the Worlds.
He’s gifted with azure hues eventually cracking open from behind coloured ‘lids - tired, droopy, bleary - for which Riku feels guilt wallow in the pit of his chest; it’s still very early, barely 7 AM, and he’s well aware of how important sleep is.
And yet, at the same time, he’s also grateful - seeing Terra, awake or sleeping, always does that to him.
He makes dull note of arms tucking ‘round his waist to pull him even an inch closer, lips curling a bit more from the act, and allows his fingers to brush along the elder’s cheeks, past his temples and into chocolate strands, where they bury themselves and make comfortable purchase within.
He’s quiet - perhaps extremely so, even for him - but gives a small hum as their lips connect, warm and soft and right, teal hues temporarily fluttering to a close.
This act, in and of itself, has somehow become normal, too - and maybe that’s one of the most surreal things of all.
He releases a small breath of a laugh when they part, green eyes meeting blue, hot breath still hitting his lips when he speaks.
A single word - but neither of them have really needed to speak much around each other, anyway.
“Morning.”