talk about a siren’s tale, @herocarved​ :

‘  i’ve  heard  the  tales.  to  catch  you  means  to  gain  a  granted  wish.  ’

riku figured most people would find the after-hours of a café worker’s shift to be boring ; but sora hasn’t seemed to mind it, easily biding his time waiting for riku to finish by sitting on a nearby chair & chattering about anything & everything.

that’s how it’s been between them since their friendship had developed - although he hadn’t expected a statement such as that after a healthy dose of silence, enough to almost make his grip tighten against the glass & the cloth he was cleaning it with.

some of the tales & legends to come from sailors & other folk were usually just that, pure myth or dramatics to spur up stories ‘round a campfire or in a local tavern - but others weren’t entirely devoid of truth.

this one - well.

it was something he’d pondered on more than anyone knew, probably even his sisters - catching a siren might mean earning a magical gift-- but was it wrong of him to think that people should think of the siren as a wish granted?

was it wrong of him to want that?

maybe it was the apparent romantic in him, or maybe it was just fear - the idea of being caught for the sake of a little of his magic, the idea of being caught at all.

but he’s silent on all of this, only giving an amused twtich of his lips, a small ghost of a laughing breath, as he goes back to cleaning the glass within his grip.

a siren song for @herocarved​ :

‘  will  you  go  to  the  lagoon  with  me  ?  it’s  unsafe  to  go  alone.  ’

perhaps it’s simply his imagination, but it’s like even the natural after-hours noise of the café seems to grow silent as the query hangs heavy in the air. he tries not to flinch or shift suspiciously as he wipes down the countertop, simply raising his head slightly & quirking an eyebrow in question.

he hasn’t known sora for long, their first interaction & an unspokenly-more-than-friendly night under the stars being a few weeks ago with more encounters since, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about, it’s sora’s curiosity. originally he thought it just applied to the drinks and other items on their menu, but over time he’s learned it’s applied to much more.

this time, though - this time he’s a little bit concerned at the depths of that curiosity, & where it might lead him.

as much as most people thought they were simply rumours, he & his sisters knew better - it was the same lagoon they’d made their way through, after all, in their travel from the deeper seas to the land where they now resided. their time there had been brief, of course, partially for good reason - & all the more reason he wouldn’t want sora making the trip there, if he could help it.

they were some of the kinder sirens, he & his - those of the lagoon were known for their attempts to allure, even if those attempts had been hypnotised into songs of myth & legend.

         the days since their parting are fuzzy memories in the back of his mind ;   if he thinks hard enough , thinks past the migraine settling against his temples  &&  the slight churn of his stomach  &&  the overall feeling of being invaded by someone who detests him , he can remember the argument .   he can remember the hurt feelings , the rising frustration —   why won’t he listen ?   why doesn’t he understand ?  —   &&  he knows he shouldn’t have left the way he did .   but !   still , confusion plays at the chords of heartsong .

         “ how could you think i’d give up ? ”

         it sounds more accusatory than he means .   he knows it does .   but there’s grief  &&  shame knotted tight in those words , too .   sora sees how exhausted riku looks .   he sees the circles under his eyes , the way he seems to wilt against the counter ;   he feels the way the house seems to ignore  &&  reject him .   he still drips rainwater from the torrential anger of the storm that’s taken over the forest , the suburbs , the city .

         &&  he knows , deep in the roots of his very soul , that he messed up .   there , the shame settles , deep  &&  pitiless , in his heart ;   it darkens his soul with the knowledge that he hurt riku .   he swallows against the narrowing of his throat  &&  his gaze falls away with a wince .   excuses are caught in his throat , where they most likely belong ,  &&  he’s left with racing thoughts muddled by a choice he made without understanding the consequences .

         “ i —   i didn’t give up .   i just wanted to be like you .   l - look !   now i can protect you , too ! ”   sora lifts up his shirt to show the curling mark on his abdomen ;   it looks sickly , wrong somehow ,  &&  when he finally glances up to meet riku’s eyes , he’s not sure what he expects to see —   but the shock , the hurt , the disgust are things he doesn’t .   it makes him pause .   it stops him in his tracks .   it makes him , all at once , drag his shirt back down into place ;   he hides the mark with a nauseating shame .

         in his state , where he can barely remember what’s happened since he left the cottage , where everything hurts  &&  he feels so , so sick —   he can almost feel the slither of another in his heart —  &&  heavy with the knowledge that he broke riku’s heart with his good intentions , he can’t help the tears that sting at his dulled eyes .   he can’t help them as they fall down his cheeks , one after the other , until the awkward silence is thick with riku’s grief  &&  sora’s guilt .

         “ i’m sorry …   i’m sorry , riku .   so sorry . ”

         it doesn’t feel like enough .    he doesn’t feel as if he deserves forgiveness .   when he looks at riku through tear blurred vision , he feels so small , so unworthy of the beautiful , kind , perfect boy he fell in love with so many months ago .   &&  when he thinks he see riku step closer to him , he retreats without thinking about how that , too , probably shatters what remains of the witch’s heart —   no , no , i don’t deserve your kindness !   he clings to the shame so desperately as he pulls away .

         &&  maybe he doesn’t want to feel better when he stands in the center of the kitchen  &&  tries to push riku’s hands , so warm despite how broken he looks , away .

         “ don’t forgive me ! ”   sora chokes through his tears —   but his fingers curl with riku’s  &&  it’s impossible to know if he’s clinging for the warmth or holding his comfort back .

the interactions from a few days before still leave him wounded ; a hitch- stutter- skip in his heartbeat, a choked up catching of breath in his throat, a prickling to the corners of his eyes that still has yet to fade away. he’s tired, bordering lethargic, shoulders unable to hold themselves high with the pride & joy he’d spent all these months learning, or even the toughness he’s grown up to bear.

they slump, exhausted, an emotional wreck, much like the rest of him - & nature reflects it, the chaos in his heart & mind, with the swirling storm that still continues to rage outside no matter how he tries to soothe it.

nature, for once, will not listen - & has decided to show the world the pain of someone who will not show it to the world themselves.

when sora returned, his feelings had been---- complicated. he expected an overwhelming flood of relief, but apprehension, confusion, caution entered the mix, leaving it a jumbled mess of emotions in his chest he didn’t quite know how to parse. there’s joy at his return, of course, to know he hadn’t been seriously hurt without riku by his side - but confusion, too, as to why he had returned in the first place, besides the fact this was technically his home now, too.

he’d thought it all over, that sora had gone, left him for his family, his friends, those he’d left behind -- so why return?

“how could you think i’d give up?”

he’d thought they knew each other well enough by now for sora to understand how his mind worked - how it strove against him at every opportunity, little whispers of how he wasn’t worth the effort, wasn’t worth the risk---- especially when it came to sora himself.

but their recent argument, apparently, showed perhaps they weren’t as in tune as he once imagined.

he tries not to look hurt at the way the question’s thrown, near accusational, even though he knows it’s not sora’s intent - but the corner of his mouth, the edges of his eyes, struggle not to flinch at it.

they fail, most certainly, when sora raises his shirt - & while the mark isn’t necessarily ugly, physically, the air around it, it’s complicated & twisted designs, spoke to any witch what others might not see - malintent, impurity, greed, selfishness.

        “ i’m sorry …   i’m sorry , riku .   so sorry . ”

& oh how his heart breaks a little more at that, & the crack in sora’s voice that accompanies it ; his hands, despite themselves, despite how hard it’s been to move anything of himself these days, move to try to comfort without a second thought---- && while he’s not thrown away, he’s kept at a distance-- a distance he’d been the one to try put between them in the first place, but which aches more now that it’s being used against him.

        “ don’t forgive me ! ”  

his only love cries, & riku thought he knew hurt, heartache, grief - but it all comes rushing back, clutching tight ‘round his heart like a vice, to see his beloved cry. he wants, so badly, to wipe away the tears, to soothe them with kisses to freckled cheeks like he used to on those days when the only thing separating them was the parental barrier of a windowsill---- but his hands are clasped, instead, between fingers he wished wouldn’t shake so.

he waits a beat, two, three heartaches more, before slowly trying to remove one hand from his little witchling’s grip - & places it upon one cheek, fingers curling just under his jaw, a thumb brushing the tracks of tears that continue to spill without end.

oh, how he wished he could quell it all, could turn back time & undo all the hurt.

( but how far back would he go? to their conversation on humans being witches? their first kiss? their first meeting? how far back was enough, to undo all the pain he’s wrought? )

“i didn’t explain everything to you,”

he couldn’t, not then ; not when the chasm of despair, the thought & very-near reality of losing sora after growing so fond, had been so close & further coming, despite how much he tried to outrun it, shouting ringing in his ears so sharp it hurt to listen,

“you couldn’t have known. i thought i was keeping you safe, but i was just pushing you further away.”

once upon a time, he’d thought it the best thing to do - keep your enemies far away, keep everyone else even further---- but the days, weeks, months have changed him, have taught him it’s okay to keep those you cherish a little bit closer, if only to protect them.

but even he was still learning - there was a bit of hesitance, still, which proved to be their downfall.

“i don’t expect you to forgive me, either. for trying to stop you. for not listening or trying to explain things better.”

he was part of the problem, he knew that - perhaps the biggest part, still stuck in his own stubbornness, his heartbreak, his fear.

pass the veil into danger, @herocarved​ :

it's raining, but then again, it feels like it's rained ever since his parents... disappeared. he winces at the word; it's a knife to his heart, the knowledge that they hadn't simply disappeared. meeting riku again took away that hope of them returning, smiling and proud of all he's accomplished --- and then he's turning that devastating hurt inward, away from the little spark of magic that nestles in the warmth of his heart, the bond of a pact made not so long ago. he knows it's not riku's fault; in fact, he's grateful for the truth that came in that stormy night when he was saved by a boy turned wolf.

now, as he walks upon the fraying path, following the warmth in his heart in the hopes that it'll guide him to the missing man, he wears a hoodie several sizes too big, and carries in one hand a knife (no, it's more like a dagger) made of an ancient magic for protection, and feels the weight of riku's charmed bracelet on his other wrist. the hood weighs heavy over his eyes, but keeps his face dry. his shoes, on the other hand, feel damp and uncomfortable as he splashes through another unseen puddle.

three days, seventeen hours, ten minutes and twenty-eight seconds... that's how long it's been since he saw the man that shares his home, his bed, his life. his lips crease into a line of worry. he was told to wait, but he's never been good at that. he couldn't sit still any longer. he couldn't keep waiting.

"riku, where are you?"

the little, fledgling witch murmurs under his breath, knowing that he shouldn't bring attention to himself in a forest full of cursed once-people. his ears buzz with the spark of adrenaline, and when he swallows, he finds a lump in his throat. he's scared, terrified; he's about to lose his mind to the burrowing, worming terror at what he might come across.

sora takes another step. and another, and another.

it's dark, shadowed. twilight approaches in the already gray gloom of the downpour. he catches the faint tang of blood beneath the almost overpowering scent of green that comes with the rain. his heart sputters, stills, then returns at a frantic rate.

is it riku? is he hurt? injured and unconscious? against his better judgment, he cries out, louder, more frantic, terror lacing the single word, "riku!"

he hadn’t expected his patrol to take more than a manner of hours, a day or two at most - the plan had been to leave after settling sora into a comfortable sleep, to patrol & be back by morning----

but, as has been the case for the last manner of years, the forest never seems to want to bend to his wishes.

the cold wracking his frame in sharp, harsh shivers hasn’t faded in the days he’s been out here, rain sticking strands of silver to his forehead, the curves of his jaw - & the thick tang of copper against his tongue has only gotten worse with time. it’s all he’s been able to do to prop himself up against the base of a tree thick with leaves to somewhat alleviate the rain, near begging nature for sustenance.

but the forest, too, has grown tired over time -- it’s barely able to sustain itself with the shadows’ growing influence, never mind its last guardian & supposed protector.

not that that title seems to mean much, the most bitter part of his mind provides as he curls a hand more protectively over the harsh wound at his side, pouring what little magic he has into trying to stitch it up just a little bit more -- what good is he, one little, lonesome guardian, against all the shadows & shades that he’s barely managed to escape nipping at his heels?

tired, the whispering voice of nature calls to him, soaking into his bones - & silently, he agrees.

very tired, his own mind supplies, as his eyelids begin to droop - & idly, he has to wonder if maybe the reason for all the rain is because of nature’s sadness. maybe there’s no end to this, maybe he was foolish for trying to defend his home without any sort of help, maybe, maybe, maybe----

“riku!”

it’s almost painfully loud, hoarse, near ragged to his ears, but it makes his heart lurch in his chest all the same - & the darkness catching at the corners of his eyes, the corners of his mind, fade just a little bit. through the rain, he can just about catch the watery edges of a figure running toward him, patchy blurs of brown, red & blue kneeling by his side, a gentle hand touching his cheek that spreads a shiver of warmth along his skin.

“sora....”

the quietness of his own voice is painful to hear, the note above a whisper that it is - but it’s all he can manage with the pain & panic seeping ice cold into his veins. a talented little witch sora might be, with riku’s own protective charm to boot, but with the shadows so close & so craving harm & mischief----

protection & calm from @herocarved​ :

“  i feel safer when you’re here. So I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready.  ”

the words settle deep within his chest something warm, a warmth that grows outward until it feels like it’s flowing through his veins, reaching his fingertips & toes with all the weight they carry.

it’s just a small murmur, pressed against the edge of his collarbone, but it’s a confession larger than life at the edge of this forest everyone’s warned sora never to enter, & which he’s entered anyway.

the wind tickles his ear as if in laughter, coy amusement, snickering at his supposed tragedy - the fate it’s bestowed on him, like all of nature has, with a soulbond he never asked for.

---- he hates that he can’t quite say ‘one he never wanted’ with as much vehemence anymore ; he’s lulled into acceptance of it, even if sora’s embraces, so bright & warm, still sometimes make his shoulders tense.

that same bond tugs at his heartstrings, a small but subtie insistence, nothing forceful but kind & gentle - easily identifiable as the boy clinging to him so tightly - then again, maybe Riku was only able to tell that because of the bond in question, because of how infectious sora’s warmth was.

he heaves a sigh, one that seems impossibly loud in the silence of the sunset - & dares to initiate a bit of contact, perhaps the first he’s ever done ; slowly, gently raising a hand from his side to brush through strands at the back of sora’s head, a long, repetitive motion.

“you might be waiting a long time. maybe forever.”

are you really okay with that?

it still feels like a dream, @herocarved​ :

it's late when riku arrives home. the television plays the little mermaid for the third time that day && nothing, nothing save for riku's presence, could have torn his attention from the film. he's uncurled from his spot in the corner of the couch && all but throwing himself at his soulmate almost before the door's properly shut behind the witch. there's a giggle, bright && airy, followed by a freckled nose nuzzling against riku's shirt in greeting.

"riku! welcome home!"

he feels a hand at his cheek && he leans into it as if that little bit of affection has been what he's craved all day. eyes flicker upwards; he's smiling so that those eyes of his light up so warmly. it's a smile all for riku, so soft with that little edge of playful mischief. eventually, he caves beneath those sea green eyes && he's leaning onto his tip toes to catch riku's lips in a kiss. his arms, once snug around his waist, wind instead around his neck as his fingers toy with short strands of silver.

&& of course, he doesn't wait in announcing the thought that's been on his mind all day:

"we get a honeymoon, right? i wanna go to disney world!"

blame the movie that's been on repeat, truly. yet, despite his excitement, there's something that looks like resignation in the way he looks so hopefully at his fiance. the little witch remembers the way they once had to flee from the hunters that wished them dead. would a place like disney world even be feasible to them? --- maybe not before, but now, he can control himself better!

it won't be that bad. will it?

"mom && dad never let me go... it'd be so much fun, though! look! i was even looking online today..."

he's tugging at riku's fingers then, encouraging him back to the couch where the little mermaid still plays && the laptop remains precariously balanced on the cushions.

he wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he got home, but the question, the suggestion, wasn’t it.

he’s still tired from a long night working, bones beginning to ache - but a warm home & an even warmer boy to welcome him home instantly has him relaxing, soaking into the embrace, shoulders slacking as he exhales a breath against chocolate strands.

this is what they’ve worked so hard to maintain - it still makes him emotional, especially when he’s tired.

especially when he can see their intertwined fingers, the rings that sit there, happily gleaming rainbow colours as if there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

this----

this was what he’d always wanted, even if he didn’t know it at times. this feeling, this comfort, this knowledge that he was truly home.

he’s so overwhelmed with emotion he nearly forgets the question, the implication, the one that makes pink creep up the edges of his neck to his cheeks - but he’s dragged forward before he can linger on it, before his heart can manage more than a few frantic, nervous beats as it’s usually wont to do.

‘part of your world’ resounds from the tv as sora tucks into his side, curls up against him on the couch, pointing enthusiastically at all the research he’s done in riku’s absence---- & pressing sora even tighter into his side, pressing his face lightly into chocolate strands to place a warm kiss of affection, he can’t help but think that it’s fitting to all they’ve been through, all they’ve both ever really wanted.

protection & calm from @herocarved​ :

" your hands are freezing! let me warm them up... "

if he was being honest, he’d never thought about his body temperature in comparison to a human’s, before.

then again - he’d never really had much reason to.

& yet, here he is, setting up a bonfire in the middle of the forest so the human who, somehow, managed to find his way in here doesn’t freeze to death.

not that that seems to be swaying said human from friendly interactions, even though riku’s sure he’s been as isolated & neutral as possible. the little cord that tugs in his chest tries to persuade him to do otherwise - but he’s stubborn, frustrated---- maybe even a little bit angry, if he was to go to the extreme of it.

he’d just finished lighting up the fire, its crackling the only thing to disturb the silence, when sora speaks up - perhaps it’s the paleness of his hands in comparison to the hume’s own, or the way they flicker in the shadows of the flames - but then there’s suddenly fingers intertwining with his own, clasping tightly as if to not let go----

& as much as his stomach lurches with panic---- it’s a warm, comforting sensation, one that pulls at the corners of his heart despite how he tries to cage himself against it. it seeps through the little cracks, begging him with big, bright, blue eyes to just let him in----

& even though his hands tense in the hume’s -- sora’s -- gentle, attentive care---- he can’t quite find it in himself to pull away, either.

we’ve saved each other, @herocarved​ :

they're tucked into riku's bed above the cafe; it's quiet, save for the faint noises of the nighttime city that float in through the open window. it's warmer than usual for early summer && sora's learning that even ghouls sweat && mope beneath the simmering humidity that settles over the city every year. still, this does nothing to keep them apart. arms && legs twine together && riku's weight presses against him, heavy but so comforting.

the others probably assume sora's the one that needs to be comforted after waking in the hospital to find out he's no longer quite human. a single iris wavers in the dark: blue, red, the color of the sky && all its freedom, the color of blood && the violence of the strong committed against the weak.

&& yet, his fingers graze through the long strands of silver that tickle beneath his chin, along his neck && collarbones. it's an action meant to soothe, to comfort, to encourage && support. there's a hint of that smile, so full of life && love, gathering at the edges of his lips, in the twinkle of his eyes. he could never be mad at riku. he could never blame him for making a "selfish" decision.

how could he when he feels so loved by the young man currently pressed against him in such a vulnerable manner?

"thank you, riku... thank you for saving me."

if the world is made of light && darkness, we'll be the darkness.

“normally we’d need consent from the next of kin---- but we haven’t been able to contact anyone on his medical file. and if he’s not given help soon, then---- well.”

“we did some testing, and it looks like you’d be a match. if you’d be willing to donate. but it’s entirely up to you.”

the weight of the decision still sits heavy, even minutes, hours, days later - perhaps it weighs heavier now than it did back then, now that sora’s alive & awake to have to live with the choice that had been made without his consent.

it had been absolute torture & turmoil, more mentally than physically, from the time of the surgery ‘til sora’s recovery & awakening - but sora’s here now, alive, in his arms---- & conflict churns in his stomach, anger at the fact he feels any kind of relief.

what had that relief cost them?

‘everything’, part of him argues, while another part insists ‘nothing’ - but even if it’s not a physical loss, there’s still that loss of humanity which riku has always deemed so important. it was part of what he loved about sora most, his happiness, his smiles, his kindness----

then again, the fingers softly weaving through his hair, the heartbeat lightly thrumming against his cheek, tell him he hasn’t lost any of that. the words sora’s been occasionally cooing in his ears over the last few hours show it even more, & maybe he just needs to lift himself from the grave of grief he’s built for himself, tired & heavy.

“thank you, riku.... thank you for saving me.”

anyone else could have cursed him out, panicked, maybe tried to kill him for making them a monster---- but of course all sora can think of is how he’s been saved from a fatal accident, how it means they can be together again, even if only for a little while longer.

even after all this---- sora hasn’t stopped being the light to match his darkness, the hope to his despair.

words are too hard against the tightness of his throat, so instead he clambers closer, buries himself deeper, curls ‘round his light even tighter - & tries to cling to the fact that their hearts still beat the same.

“i love you.”