Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Acerbic ❯ Too much good luck no less than misery ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: Again, I warn you that Alkalinity is my priority fic right now. This one was buzzing around, though, so I thought I'd see where it wanted to go this evening.

 

 

x(X)x

 

 

Your skin,
Oh yeah your skin and bones,
Turned into something beautiful,
You know,
For you I'd bleed myself dry,
For you I'd bleed myself dry.

 

 

Yellow - Coldplay

 

 

x(X)x

 

 

Sora really wanted Kairi to be in his Enslish Lit class.

 

 

It wasn't that he thought she'd enjoy it. She was more mathematically inclined, and often grew frustrated with words that she viewed as extraneous and layers of subtext she considered dense.

 

 

He wanted her there because of all his classes; this was the first one without a familiar face. In all the others there was an old friend here, an acquaintance from school there. Instead he was greeted by a growing sense of isolation; he was adrift and he needed a tether immediately, thank you.

 

 

The students scowled while they worked. The professor scowled while he lectured. Only the aide seemed capable of a less grim expression, as he hovered by the board with his arms tightly crossed. The blankness of that too-old-for-someone-your-age face was somehow worse, though.

 

 

It was easier to sleep at night when you only had to worry about whether a person was looking at you with dislike. But the sensation of being looked through and beyond kept him awake. Because you couldn't look at writing without reading it. You couldn't look in a person's general direction without registering that there was a person there. There had to be something underneath, be it interest or casual indifference or petty dislike. Something.

 

 

And not knowing what that something was precluded sleep.

 

 

It wasn't that he thought he was a special case. R-something-or-other-maybe-there's-an-i-next-but-what-comes-after-that looked at everyone that way. Sora thought it was amazing that he didn't run into walls, as his eyes were out of focus more than they were in it.

 

 

So everyone else could worry for themselves. For his own peace of mind, he needed a bit of insight into the aide's thoughts.

 

 

He tried explaining it to Kairi as they bought cheese fries and ginger ale to share with Boris, the homeless guy who had shown up around a certain corner in Koreatown the previous summer. His girth and accent took up their fair share of space, but he made room for them so they could be regaled with Cold War epics that seemed to involve a number of upright, gallant Russian officers and innumerable American scientists unable to zip their pants correctly after their offers of sexual favors in return for superior astronautical knowledge were refused.

 

 

She suggested the possibility that Aide was a homicidal sociopath, in which case avoidance would be the prudent course of action. Then she poked him in the ticklish spot between ribs, which made him jump, and shoved a fry into his mouth, which made him laugh once he stopped choking. He paused to kiss her before the turned Boris' corner.

 

 

It banished his mental wanderings for a few hours, but then they were back in full force. And he kept hearing Kairi's question:

 

 

Why does it matter so much, anyway?

 

 

x(X)x

 

 

There were times when Riku had to forcibly reconcile two ideas.

 

 

One was his ideal; the theoretical students he cited in his arguments, brimming with potential and eagerness that had only to be tapped.

 

 

The other was the actual classroom, with plenty of scrawled notes and intent gazes and only the occasional spark of interest that cooled to ash before it could be properly kindled.

 

 

More and more he found himself wondering how long it would take him to die if he started bashing his skull against the wall.

 

 

The current class was dispersing, which was his signal to detach himself from the wall and be made available for questions and concerns.

 

 

Hours later he would wonder how putting as much distance as possible between himself and the Disappointments while attempting to look imposing had become coffee with a stranger.

 

 

Maybe it was because the face had been curious, nervous, and awkward, rather than sexual. Maybe because he found himself looking for emotions in the naïve blue eyes rather than in the brows and the skin around them, as he had trained himself to. Because he refused to be another romantic convinced that quivering jelly could hold the secrets of the soul.

 

 

But so he was; so quickly he almost missed it.

 

 

x(X)x

 

 

A/N: I've finally decided that when my fingers still and the throb in my temple tells me that the chapter has decided to end, it has ended. No more laments about length. Some shall be long, some short, but hopefully all will have meaning.