ficbit: The Nature Of...
Jul. 18th, 2006 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenRiku, Naminé, and Axel. On the nature of physical contact. Spoilers for KH2. Not so slight Naminé/Riku because I am a horrible, horrible person.
“Well,” said Axel, summoning a portal. It appeared like some classical artist’s worst nightmare. Heavy black streaks splashed at random on the far wall. “I think I’m calling it a day--”
The Unknown clapped a hand over his shoulder. It was narrow like a rail and the leather gave in a strange way.
“Wait,” he said, seriously. “We’re not done.”
The nobody went rigid under the palm.
“No, no—wait maaaaybe—all right. No. I think we are. We’ll keep in touch.” His face was blanker than blank. “You know my number.”
He slid out of the unknown’s grip, twisting his spine around in a manner not entirely sound in an anatomical sense. Somehow, the bones didn’t crack. Axel bared his teeth. The vertical slits of his pupils went narrower than thread.
He stalked through the portal. It looped closed behind him, leaving Unknown and the witch very much alone.
Riku stared at his hand, still extended.
“He’s right. You shouldn’t have,” said Naminé.
He lowered his arm. “Hm?”
The red crayon was placed in her lap. The grey crayon balanced between her fingers, a few lines scraped across the paper—which was smooth and pearly and white like everything else the witch made.
“Touched him,” she said. “They don’t like that.”
“What,” said Riku, trying to play it all off and forget that charming moment of that’s not supposed to bend that way. “What, this like that Emperor you had me go talk to?” He called up the guy’s voice exactly: “ ‘Nooo touchie’? Heh.”
Naminé stopped drawing. She didn’t laugh. She normally did.
“No,” she said instead, and said it very, very quiet voice. “It hurts. You hurt him, Riku.”
She stared at her hands; something in them seemed to startle her, her knees bumped the sketchbook out of her hold. Riku was at her side in an instant, catching it before she spilled it all across the floor.
“We’re not that strong,” she explained, once she caught her breath, staring blankly at his drawstrings. They were dangling level with her face. “It feels like…like when your throat goes tight when you want to cry. Like losing that toy you’ve had for years. Like thinking about someone you haven’t seen for a very long time. Or won’t see again. Like when you broke your wrist in that gymnastics meet and didn’t want anyone to know. Like when your father told you’d have to go back to that school. Like when Hook told you Kairi would never wake up. Like when you thought Sora--”
She was tugging at the memories one after the other, pulling at the chains reflexively, so defensively, so sharp and sudden that Riku grabbed her hand as though she were doing it physically.
“Stop,” he gasped.
Naminé smiled sadly.
“It’s like that.”
“… oh,” said Riku. He hadn’t thought about her. He’d forgotten about her completely. His mouth worked it soundlessly. I’m. You’re. Right. Right. Oh hell-- His hand fell away.
She caught his fingers by the crooks, curled in her own. She laced them over his hand. Counted the rises, tense and unhappy through the gloves, and pulled it to her face.
“It’s okay,” she said, pressing her cheek to it. Her cheek. Her nose. Her mouth. Riku made a funny noise. Her other hand wandered into the depths of his hood, where it was dark and warm and his breath took a surprised jump. Her crayons ended up spilled across the floor after all.
“It’s okay,” she said again. “It’s fine. I don’t mind so much. I don’t mind…shhh, shh. It’s all right. Everything’s all right. Everything’s going to be just…”
“Well,” said Axel, summoning a portal. It appeared like some classical artist’s worst nightmare. Heavy black streaks splashed at random on the far wall. “I think I’m calling it a day--”
The Unknown clapped a hand over his shoulder. It was narrow like a rail and the leather gave in a strange way.
“Wait,” he said, seriously. “We’re not done.”
The nobody went rigid under the palm.
“No, no—wait maaaaybe—all right. No. I think we are. We’ll keep in touch.” His face was blanker than blank. “You know my number.”
He slid out of the unknown’s grip, twisting his spine around in a manner not entirely sound in an anatomical sense. Somehow, the bones didn’t crack. Axel bared his teeth. The vertical slits of his pupils went narrower than thread.
| "And aren’t we a little personal... |  | ." |
He stalked through the portal. It looped closed behind him, leaving Unknown and the witch very much alone.
Riku stared at his hand, still extended.
“He’s right. You shouldn’t have,” said Naminé.
He lowered his arm. “Hm?”
The red crayon was placed in her lap. The grey crayon balanced between her fingers, a few lines scraped across the paper—which was smooth and pearly and white like everything else the witch made.
“Touched him,” she said. “They don’t like that.”
“What,” said Riku, trying to play it all off and forget that charming moment of that’s not supposed to bend that way. “What, this like that Emperor you had me go talk to?” He called up the guy’s voice exactly: “ ‘Nooo touchie’? Heh.”
Naminé stopped drawing. She didn’t laugh. She normally did.
“No,” she said instead, and said it very, very quiet voice. “It hurts. You hurt him, Riku.”
She stared at her hands; something in them seemed to startle her, her knees bumped the sketchbook out of her hold. Riku was at her side in an instant, catching it before she spilled it all across the floor.
“We’re not that strong,” she explained, once she caught her breath, staring blankly at his drawstrings. They were dangling level with her face. “It feels like…like when your throat goes tight when you want to cry. Like losing that toy you’ve had for years. Like thinking about someone you haven’t seen for a very long time. Or won’t see again. Like when you broke your wrist in that gymnastics meet and didn’t want anyone to know. Like when your father told you’d have to go back to that school. Like when Hook told you Kairi would never wake up. Like when you thought Sora--”
She was tugging at the memories one after the other, pulling at the chains reflexively, so defensively, so sharp and sudden that Riku grabbed her hand as though she were doing it physically.
“Stop,” he gasped.
Naminé smiled sadly.
“It’s like that.”
“… oh,” said Riku. He hadn’t thought about her. He’d forgotten about her completely. His mouth worked it soundlessly. I’m. You’re. Right. Right. Oh hell-- His hand fell away.
She caught his fingers by the crooks, curled in her own. She laced them over his hand. Counted the rises, tense and unhappy through the gloves, and pulled it to her face.
“It’s okay,” she said, pressing her cheek to it. Her cheek. Her nose. Her mouth. Riku made a funny noise. Her other hand wandered into the depths of his hood, where it was dark and warm and his breath took a surprised jump. Her crayons ended up spilled across the floor after all.
“It’s okay,” she said again. “It’s fine. I don’t mind so much. I don’t mind…shhh, shh. It’s all right. Everything’s all right. Everything’s going to be just…”