Son of the Moon

Author’s Note: I’ve been told by a few readers that I’ve been able to throw some angst in here without making it depressing—thank you. But if I was able to give this fic a third genre, the third would be angst. The generally happy mood is about to change somewhat. I cried a little bit when I wrote this chapter. Urgh.

Thank you, LostinThought, Megumi Sparx, Anorexic Muffinz, and TheVastOrganizationMemberXenjn for your reviews.

LostinThought: I wouldn’t say that everyone’s in character. I think Hayner’s a bit of a stretch from canon, at the very least. XD Don’t worry, I plan on finishing this.

Megumi Sparx: XD XD I’m flattered. It’s always exciting when you find something that you like enough to check obsessively—I’d had the fortune to find fics like that a few times. ‘Course, I have to wait months for some of the ones I’m really eager to keep reading right now. About the fire thing: did someone set the stage on fire at some point??

Anorexic Muffinz: I’m so glad it met your narcotic-influenced expectations. XD

TheVastOrganizationMemberXenjn: I just updated. There’s your wish.

Enjoy. Pleasant dreams: finally, some action! How long have you guys been waiting for this?! How long have I been waiting for this??!?!

Son of the Moon

Chapter five: ‘The highway skyline’

~*~

‘And sometimes you close your eyes
And see the place where you used to live
When you were young.’

-The Killers, “When You Were Young”

~*~

It was Friday, the end of third period. Sora was trotting off to the library to work on his anatomical sketches for his drawing class—yes, it was actually an assignment. He had fifteen sketches to make of male and female figures in various poses listed on his assignment sheet. He was really glad that he had an assignment like drawing he could get a head start on, because he forgot to take his ADD medication that morning. He wasn’t incapable of doing homework without his meds, but when he was off them and tried to outline sections in his history book or write papers, it was difficult. Really difficult. Without his medication, he couldn’t really settle into something that took significant analysis and organization—he got antsy, he kept getting up, walking around, toying with the things around him, and daydreaming.

But drawing—that was easier. It also calmed him down a bit, and made it a little easier to concentrate on more analytical assignments. Too bad it didn’t help even half as much as his bloody medication.

Sora plunked down in a plush seat in the library and pulled out his sketchpad, his lucky red mechanical pencil—because wooden pencils were annoying and definitely not Wonder Bread’s style—and his favorite eraser. He got his ipod and headphones out of his bag and started listening to DJ OZMA, because the brunet was currently on a j-pop binge. He tried not to groove too much.

He was as happy and comfortable as a well-insulated slice of Wonder Bread could be, and just about as cute, because the sight of a slice of happy Wonder Bread grooving and bopping was one thing without which a person’s life was incomplete. It was just that amazing. It was common knowledge, listed in books like “Crap to do Before You Kick It” and everything.

He saw Kairi on her way out of the library and waved at her. She came over to his table and looked at his sketches idly.

“You have stuff to do this period, I see,” she said, tapping the tabletop with her knuckles. Sora paused his music, just when DJ OZMA was trying to sing in English, and nodded.

“I forgot to take my meds today,” he said, scratching his head.

“So no long philosophical discussions today?” the redhead asked, smirking. Sora wrinkled his nose, sniffed, and generally made a show of have a cold metal spoon up his bum.

“I can still discuss things!! Just…the discussions will be much shorter. Here’s one we can do: the topic is ‘where the hell are my brown pants?!’ That’s also my argument. Your rebuttal should be, ‘Gee, Sora, I dunno. You’re the one that threw them somewhere in Riku’s house!’”

“That’s not how you have a discussion, that’s not even how you properly debate,” Kairi said, laughing. “You never found them?”

“Jah,” he said in his best Swedish accent. Or Hollandish. He forgot the name of their language.

“Riku never found ‘em?”

“That’s what he says. I trust him. What would he want with my pants, anyway?”

If Kairi hadn’t a clue about what had happened to Sora’s pants before, she sure as hell knew now. But she wasn’t going to inform Sora of Riku’s misdeeds; she felt that it needed to come from Riku. Because, really, something as personal as ‘Hi, I stole your pants ‘cause I really, really, really, really, really like you and I hope you aren’t offended even though that’s kind of creepy and stalkerish, and I framed the meaningless valentine you gave me on my bedside table’ had to come from the idiot who did it.

“How’s the sleepover plan with Riku? You guys going to hang around time at some point?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you.”

“Right, so I’m going to bunk off for my free with Saix. We might go dumpster diving,” she said, winked at him, and left the library.

Sora returned to DJ OZMA.

“No, Spiderman, I do not want your love now,” he replied brightly to the lyrics and continued sketching.

(XXX)

Saix trooped by the back of the school to meet Kairi. They kissed, cuddled briefly, and walked hand in hand through the woods behind the school and the houses in the area. They visited the garbage cans of various residences, taking more time with the ones they knew to have more interesting refuse, but found little that day. They wound up at the nearby park. No one was around, so they chose to stay. Saix pushed Kairi on the swings and generally looked happier in her company than he did, er, during most of the rest of his life.

Saix liked Kairi, a lot. And for various reasons. First, he had a thing for redheads, except for Axel. Second, she was cool in an amusing, mentally stimulating, slightly psycho way, which suited Saix just fine. Third—never mind, because no one cared about how pretty he thought she was. And fourth, because Saix was required by court order to attend anger management meetings and Kairi calmed him down. A lot. He had a history of anger-related issues. Saix was grateful for how she made it easier to control his temper.

Saix tried to repay her in small ways for the effect she had on him. Like giving her more affection than was his natural tendency—he wasn’t a gushy, flowery, overly romantic guy, but he made it a point to keep the cheek, hand, and forehead kisses coming. He nuzzled her and embraced her, and not just so she could be aware of the state of his groin.

He was also trying to help her figure out what to do about the school play and the Axel-Roxas fiasco.

“Axel called me, wanting advice the other day,” Saix said, watching the highlights in Kairi’s hair move as she swung back and forth on the swing. “I suggested food. Roxas always seemed a bit like a squirrel to me.”

Kairi snickered. “Axel took your advice halfway, and bought sugar cubes instead. I suppose that, now that he’s the new “Naked Cowboy,” he thinks of Roxas as a horse.”

Saix’s eyes widened, evidently disturbed. He was comparing the different nature of the relationship between a real cowboy and his horse and Cowboy Axel and his “horse.” Axel was a nutty bit. If he was in the mindset to be a cowboy and regarded Roxas as his horse…well, sooner or later, Axel would be committing pseudo-bestiality with said horse. Saix shuddered.

As much as he didn’t want to get near that conversation or topic with a ten-foot pole, Saix would have to have a little talk with Axel.

“Right, so, the play,” he said, swiftly changing the subject. Kairi groaned sadly.

“I can’t think of much this time around! I just keep thinking about the money the school has for the theater productions and this stupid thing between Axel and Roxas.”

The mention of money and Axel and Roxas’ problem gave the blue-haired male an idea.

“Kai,” he said, slowing the motion of the swing. “You’ve helped out the director of school play with the finances before. Mrs. Fay trusts you—and though that makes either her really dumb or you exceptionally brilliant and suave, that’s beside the point. You’ve handled the checks and things before.”

Kairi dug her feet into the woodchips on the playground and turned to look at her boyfriend. Her gaze was piercing; she was looking at him like he was a roller coaster that gave her all the spark in the world. She got it. She winked and smirked at Saix, called him a “clever boy” and he returned to his swing-pushing duties.

Saix grinned to himself, amused and pleased with himself. He let himself enjoy the warmth of Kairi’s slender back when he pushed her higher on the swing.

The petite redhead broke the silence by asking, “Do you think we could manage to have sex on this swing?”

Saix blinked, tried to figure out the physics of it, and came up with a rather bleak, confused picture. It sounded painful, but then he was a guy, so a unique sexual escapade was always considered. His libido and his frontal lobe were running a race, his libido in the lead, but just then his frontal lobe caught up. He realized that he couldn’t afford something else on his record, like public indecency in a children’s play area.

Saix was stuck. Which brain to use? The one in his head or the one in his…smaller head?

As always, he was saved from internal destruction of the ever-threatening war between the below-waist brain and his real brain by his female partner.

“It’s okay. We’ll just engineer a virus that kills children under the age of twelve. Then we can try it on a swing,” she said.

Saix felt relieved; suddenly, the future seemed much, much brighter.

(XXX)

Sora let Axel borrow his ipod that day, hoping it would help keep him out of trouble. And by trouble, he meant keep Axel from chasing Roxas around the school, shouting, “WHAT DOES HE HAVE THAT I DON’T, YOU OVER-GELED CREAM PUFF?!” and pelting him with sugar cubes again. Sora was amused by this, and not too worried for Roxas’ safety. To Sora, it was just young love.

Sora had a skewed vision of the “innocent romance of youthful sweethearts.” His vision lacked opinions on the concepts of obnoxious suitors and unwilling recipients of said suitor’s overtures. Maybe Axel should dress up like a bird and build Roxas a house out of sticks and decorate it with blue, shiny things. Sora got that idea from a documentary on the mating rituals of some bird that actually built a nest out of reeds and did the interior decoration to attract a mate.

The end of the school day rolled around quickly enough, and Sora met Riku in the parking lot. Sora grinned, Riku grinned back, they didn’t realize that they were each other’s one true love, and the world didn’t end. Sora made sure Riku had all the stuff he needed—Sora was prepared for his best friend’s brain failures—then they got into Sora’s car and left the PCTBA—the ‘Public Center for the Torture and Boredom of Adolescents.’

When Sora and Riku got to Sora’s house, they were ready to let the good times roll, but Sora’s parents put their parental feet down with firm hands and made them finish their homework first. Sora was able to get at his short-acting afternoon medication, so now he had an easier time concentrating on schoolwork. It was dull, and it was drudgery, but nothing makes happiness and play as good as the misery of homework.

Afterward, Riku and Sora were pent up and antsy, so they dug around in Sora’s basement to find the wooden swords with which they used to spar. Both males were a bit rusty at it—for the past year or so, Sora had been busy with other things, in part because Riku’s homework and soccer practice took a considerable amount of his time after school. Riku, however, was still stronger and faster; his muscles from soccer practice made up for the lack of recent practice. But he was always better at this than Sora, anyway. But no one’s pride was damaged, and a friendly, competitive spirit rose up between them. They sparred in Sora’s back yard, towards the back of the property, close to the forest’s edge. They dodged and leaped and swung and parried as best they could. Riku won the first and second round, but Sora, surprisingly, came out in the end and won the third and final round. They lay down on the soft grass, tired, gasping, happy, and full of endorphins and memories.

Sora recovered first, felt devious, and pounced on Riku. They tussled for a few minutes—Riku’s slower recovery weakened him somewhat, but he just managed to pin Sora underneath him. Then they stopped. They rested, or Sora rested, while the silver-haired male supported part of his weight on his hands on either side of Sora’s head. Riku panted, looking down at him, realizing that Sora was underneath him. He felt a tingly, shivery sensation he imagined like a flock of birds erupting into the air after someone fires a shot.

Riku was happy. He smiled through the pleasant memories of childhood. He remembered how they used to wrestle and Riku, back then, would almost always win. Looking back, he realized then how fricking happy he was whenever he got Sora in a good hold and kept him there, pretending he was just doing it because he liked taunting Sora. But years ago, even before they hit puberty, Riku had been dimly aware that he liked wrestling with Sora for a pleasure other than victory and taunting rights.

The elder male’s breathing quieted as he looked down at Sora. Sora was staring up at him with his big, blue eyes, which Riku thought were so pretty while the rest of him was handsome. Sora was a little boyish-looking in the face, though, which made him cute—er, adorable. So fricking…okay, “adorable” wasn’t any better.

Riku wanted to kiss Sora right then, and for a second there, he thought he was going to lose control and actually do it. His lips parted, he felt like he was falling, he felt like his body was leaning in of its own accord, but then it stopped. A mixture of relief and disappointment blossomed in his body.

He fell onto Sora and hugged him. Sora, startled, hugged him back, but after a few wordless moments of okay-this-wasn’t-expected, he poked him in the side.

“Lol, Riku,” he said, pronouncing every letter as was his wont. “You okay, man?” There was a smile tinting his words to a warm don’t-worry-I-don’t-actually-think-this-is-weird tone. There was laughter in his voice but Riku regretfully decided he’d better get off—o rly?

They grabbed their weapons and trudged back inside, neither of them thinking about how anyone who heard about this would snicker at the various interpretations of the words ‘weapons’ and ‘inside’ after a scene like that.

They got into the house just in time so Sora’s dad didn’t have to start hollering for them to come for dinner. Sora’s dad was a laid back guy who had straight, brown hair, olive-colored skin, and pierced ears. He was a cool dude in Riku’s book—yes, a ‘cool dude’—who played base in his free time with some of his friends in a local jazz band. He allowed people he liked to call him “Rob,” although Sora tended to call him “Brillopad” because Sora was “Creative.”

Sora’s mom was a slender woman with auburn hair and small features. She kept her hair in a pixie cut vaguely reminiscent of Sora’s hairstyle, and it worked on her because she had a sweet face that looked younger than she really was. She liked to sketch and paint when she had the time, and she was the one who inspired little, kiddie Sora to start drawing.

Sora’s mom, Gina, was a psychologist and Rob was, kind of amusingly, a massage therapist.

Rob did not give happy endings.

…Except to his wife.

Anyway. The meal was a basic dinner of hamburgers with toppings and salad. Sora was the kind of not really health-conscious person who cared enough about his health to shovel vegetables into his mouth at rapid speed so he wouldn’t have to taste the crap. And then this meant that he didn’t care much because, hell, this was easy.

Riku took vegetables because he kind of wanted to avoid rectal cancer. Because rectal cancer was, for anyone but especially for a gay guy, kind of awkward.

Riku made small-talk with the parents, and everything was going nicely until Sora brought up the much loved tale of Riku’s sixteenth birthday party at the Japanese restaurant. Remember that? It was a local favorite story. Along with all the other episodes.

The silver-haired male got flustered enough to verbally lash out, but his brain took that moment, of all times, to go on a vacation again. For one minute. To Ireland. Riku’s body was in America; his brain took a seven-hour flight to go to Ireland just to get off, wait one sodding minute, and hop back on the next flight back to America.

And just in time for Riku to say something stupid when he needed to prove his intelligence.

“What kind of slugs does your face fuck?!” Riku yelled angrily at Sora. Then his expression changed dramatically as realization of what he just said hit him.

Good comeback, Riku, nice job. Applause, please, the lad needed it. Or maybe he just needed everyone to stop laughing at him; Gina almost fell out of her chair. Twice.

Riku cried a little onto his hamburger.

After dinner, Riku’s Link beat Sora’s Princess Zelda quite viciously at Super Smash Brothers Brawl. Sora didn’t complain, because he knew his best friend was still steaming, and Sora was still snickering. Riku angrily continued with the video game as long as Sora remained amused at the tale over dinner of Riku’s brain failures. They were in front of that television screen until two in the morning.

By that time, Sora was pretty tired. He threw down the controller, stood up, stretched, scratched himself in various places, and announced that he was a “sleepin’ bun.” Riku turned off the PS2 and followed Sora into the bathroom where they washed up, brushed teeth, and brushed hair. Or Riku brushed his hair, then on a whim tried to brush Sora’s hair, just to see how it would look.

It looked poofy.

It made Riku smile and giggle—in a totally reflexive, not-feminine way—and snort. Sora looked about as disgruntled as his valentine, which made it even better.

Sora reshaped his spikes—no gel at all, what was with those hair genes? He then trotted into the bedroom and quickly changed before Riku came in—oh poo. Well, Riku got an eyeful anyway, because Sora’s night clothes consisted of a pair of pajama pants and…er, that’s it. He threw himself onto the bed which was just a mattress with pillows, sheets, and covers in the middle of his bedroom floor, and Riku exchanged his jeans for pajama pants and a t-shirt before following him.

Riku wished he was following him not just to sleep in the same physical space, but to sleeping together. Even if it wasn’t sex, because Riku had nothing against sex with Sora because, well, of the obvious. But he wished for things: he wanted to be able to touch and kiss and cuddle and…well, that last verb was a little embarrassing.

He wished he could take his shirt off, too, but now that it was off and Sora’s was also off—and it was November—that would be a bit odd. The only way he’d be able to sleep beside Sora shirtless is if Riku had taken off his shirt first, and then it would have been partially in the hope to allure Sora to take off his shirt, too. And stuff. And, um, lips, and Sora’s nice smell, and cute, er, not that word, and, uh, stop while you’re ahead, Riku.

Riku wasn’t embarrassed by his haphazard train of thought because he knew, without a doubt, that no one could read his thoughts.

…

Ha ha.

Riku crawled onto the mattress and laid beside Sora, facing Sora’s back. There was a foot or so of mattress between them. Riku wanted to close that distance, but he was apprehensive. But the brunet was right there, and Riku’s chest felt funny, like there was a giant butterfly in each of his lungs, beating their soft wings, dusting powder on his inner walls. It tickled, it tingled, and it hurt a little bit because Riku really wanted to pull Sora against him and for Sora to like it, want it, and want it to happen again the next day, and the day after that.

Riku pressed his face into the pillow and tried to close his eyes. He was able to—for a second. Sora’s sigh roused him, and Riku raised himself a little on the mattress. Sora was right there…

Riku swallowed, slowly inched forward on the mattress, and waited there for a second. His best friend didn’t seem to notice his movement. Riku tentatively raised his right hand reached out—he stopped just above Sora’s arm. Riku felt like someone inside him was walking on the floorboards of a house being destroyed by a wrecking ball. He was shaking that much inside.

He rested his hand on Sora’s arm. Sora turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, curious. But he said nothing; neither of them said anything. Riku looked him in the eye and hesitantly draped his arm lower across Sora’s front.

Sora’s eyes seemed to glow in the dark. There was no opinion there, no judgment, just a watchfulness that, if it had a sound, would ring out hauntingly like a metal key singing along a key ring in the night. Sora didn’t stop him. Riku stayed his hand, looking questioningly into Sora’s eyes for some response, some forbiddance of this contact, but there was none. Sora’s eyelids lowered a little, becoming calm, and the silver-haired male was encouraged.

Riku wrapped his right arm fully around Sora’s front and pulled him so his back was flush against his muscled torso. Riku readjusted his position and buried his face against the curve of the brunet’s neck. And Riku felt so relieved and tingly inside. He tried to be still, but his lips were pressed against Sora’s naked skin, and even if this wasn’t a kiss of any sort, this embrace was unquestionably more than friendly. It was lover’s embrace, and Sora didn’t stop him.

Aquamarine eyes glanced up into the blue, and he saw that stopping him, pushing Riku off, was the last thing Sora was about to do. Sora smiled a little, sighed, closed his eyes, and nestled closer. Riku nearly gasped for some reason, maybe he was still in shock or something. But then he pulled Sora even closer, feeling like everything inside him was churning against everything else—it felt good, it felt tingly, it even tickled, and it also felt just a little bit like he was going to puke, but not really.

He could have kissed Sora then, but he didn’t. He could have pulled his lips away from that naked skin and really kissed it, or he could have turned Sora over and kissed him on the lips, pouring out all this mind-whirling feeling, but he didn’t. He didn’t kiss Sora because he really, really wanted to; maybe he could…maybe he could save that for a little longer.
Even though the tingly feelings inside never entirely ceased, Riku soon got to sleep. But before that happened, he flicked the head of his member to make it go down; he didn’t want to be poking Sora in the back all night.

(XXX)

After spending so many hours in classrooms, one forgot how bright the midday sun was.

Riku and Sora were on the Destiny Islands. They were walking side by side in their swim trunks. They passed the Secret Place, but then Sora stopped and turned back to look at it. He gazed at it longingly for a long time, such a long time that Riku became bold enough to touch Sora’s arm; Riku wanted to win back Sora’s attention. After a moment, the brunet turned around and grinned at him like a blissful child. But then his expression changed to that of awe, and he started looking at Riku like he was made of stars—shooting stars, falling stars; things meant for wish-making.

Riku, feeling scared, scrounging courage, cupped his best friend’s face in his gloved hands and kissed him on the lips. And there was a burst of acidic vapor in his chest—but it was the good kind, the kind that breaks down every anxiety and frees the space for happiness and pleasure and sweet things like kisses. At that moment, Riku felt like shooting stars. He wrapped his arms tightly around Sora, and held the back of the brunet’s head so he couldn’t get away. Sora kissed him back, pushed closer, wrapped one arm around Riku’s back and stroked his cheek absently as the center of his whole existence was stretched across that inch or so of lip against lip.

It was soft and good and—good like anything, good like neither of them knew what to do except turn one kiss into another and another, and it just kept getting better. It felt like tectonic plates were moving inside them, animated by bolts of electricity. Their hearts sped up; this was perfect, just perfect, and neither wanted this to ever end.

They pushed closer. Riku deepened the kiss—he nibbled Sora’s lower lip, and Sora moaned and that made Riku wild like drugs. A series of vicious sparks sprang from whatever wires were being so perfectly crossed inside of him, and each spark tore a pleasurable hole in his chest. Suddenly, there was no other option than to caress Sora’s tongue with his own, touch more skin, press even closer, let their barriers down, and spill into each other. And Riku wanted it—he wanted it like no one’s bloody business.

It played out like a perfect drug trip from there: Sora returned every affection and need Riku displayed with all the fervor and passion of something wild. Sora became a definition expressed only in the heated, gasping sound of his yes and please and you’re the only one I want in the whole god damn world. And then the sight of Sora beneath him—up and down, endlessly wide-eyed and panting and pulling Riku deeper—it was perfect. And it was so perfect that Riku wanted to give all of himself to Sora and just have him in return; that’s all, no gifts, no huge gestures of precious metal bands to go on fingers or shiny four wheel drive. Just this, just Sora, and just…

But after, when they leaned on each other for support, exhausted on the sand, Sora was looking away from Riku; he was looking towards the Secret Place. And Riku was trying to kiss him: just trying to kiss him, because he liked kissing Sora, because he liked that tenderness, and he liked how it made him feel like someone was tickling him inside, because he was a sap. But no matter how Riku petted Sora or murmured to him or tried to turn his face towards him, Sora wouldn’t look at him. He no longer seemed to notice Riku. That was bad, that was pretty bad, and it was worse because Sora wasn’t ignoring Riku; something in Sora was too steeped in something else tender and desperate to be able to see him.

And this was the sad moment when Riku realized that it was a dream, and promptly woke up. He opened his eyes to find Sora’s darkened room; Sora was sleeping quietly beside him on the mattress. Riku shifted and hissed—he had a massive hard on, and it wasn’t about to skiv off any time soon. So he got up, quietly, gently, to keep from waking Sora, and locked himself in the bathroom to deal with it.

It felt good, he felt better, but he still wished he’d woken up sooner. The end of the dream had carved out a hollow place in his stomach. Only it didn’t feel hollow, because sadness, though it didn’t have mass, had a hell of a lot of weight.

(XXX)

That was chapter five. I hope you enjoyed the fluff and light angst. 8D We’ll get some lyrics and more fluff in the next chapter.

Your reviews are always greatly appreciated. Thank you to all my loyal readers: you’re such fluffy bunnies! I hope I’m keeping your attention! XD

Yes, I did use “skiv” as a verb.

I hope the sexual scene in Riku’s dream is inexplicit enough for FF.net. I didn’t directly reference specific organs and it was graphic by my standards.

This fic will have more lemons in future chapters. And the future ones will be explicit.

Oh my god, I’ve been listening to “Goodnight Moon” by Shivaree for, like, three days straight.

Axel’s such a sweet twit. XD Pelting Roxas with sugar cubes and all. Poor baby, he’s so confused. XD

I’ve started drawing sketches of scenes from this fic, and I now realize that I prefer the hairstyles of KH characters from KHI instead of KHII. I like long hair on guys and girls, but for some reason I prefer the shorter cut of Kairi’s hair from KHI. Maybe because it was more distinctive; in KHII, Kairi looks quite average. I also prefer Riku’s hairstyle/length from KHI to KHII, which is odd, because when it comes to hair length on a guy, I think the longer the better. And I really like Riku’s black gloves and wristbands from KHI. Why did the designers throw those out for KHII?! WHY?!

References to other Media:

“No, Spiderman, I do not want your love now” was a reference to the song “Spiderman” by DJ OZMA. Youtube it. I think it’s from his “I LOVE PARTY PEOPLE” album.

The chapter title, “The highway skyline,” is from a line of “When You Were Young” by The Killers. The header, as noted, is from the same song. Sam’s Town album.