Kingdom Hearts Fan Fiction ❯ Curiosity ❯ Curiosity ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: So curiosity has bidden you to read this A/U one-shot? You shall be well rewarded.

This story was originally posted on Fanfiction.net on 08-19-07.

Much love to my beta, hunted-snark,for all of his wonderful help in beta-reading this! Heart!

Told from Riku's point of view. Rated `M' for sexual content.

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Kingdom Hearts or anything associated therein.

Full summary: Riku has always been mature for his age—gaining more and more maturity with the passing years. Sora, on the other hand, has always been immature—to the point of naivety. His innocence and purity are something rare, in Riku's eyes; he loathes the thought of that something becoming tainted. He knows that it must eventually be tainted… but he secretly hopes that that day will never come. And then came… sex ed.

Best friends are closer than close, right? It's too bad that, even years later, Sora has no idea that Riku cares for him as more than just a best friend.

Curiosity

 

I have always prided myself in being mature for my age. I was quite precocious as a child—to a rather unnerving degree. By thirteen, I knew much more about the anatomy of the human body and the physiology involved than all of my friends combined. My intelligence seemed to expand exponentially with the passing of time; my mind was sharp—ready to dissect any sort of information that came my way. I had a hunger for knowledge—I still do. It fuels me; it motivates me to expand my horizons and constantly investigate the depths of everything I encounter. This is who I am.

Now, at the age of eighteen, I feel as if my mind is that of a much older man's. My body is young and supple… but my mind is years ahead.

My mind is as sharp as a blade; my wit and intelligence have become tools; my mental skill is unmatched by my peers—I have honed my skills well. Compared to me… my beloved companion Sora could be considered a simpleton. I would never dream of calling him such, though; he is so much more. He is precious to me.

Sora and I are polar opposites. My mind is my power; his beautiful heart is his strength. Even at the age of seventeen, he still retains the youthful vitality that is so deeply imbedded into his personality; I believe that he will never grow up—at least… never completely. And I love this. I adore this about him. I cherish his innocent nature; his purity never fails to enchant me. The cheerful, rather clueless brunet has always been immature… but I simply find this endearing. Yes, it can be quite irritating at times, but, overall, it is just the way he is… and I can never resent that or get angry at that. I would never change Sora; I love him just the way he is. Even now… despite the fact that he still has no idea that I love him as so much more than a best friend… I adore his innocence.

The two of us have been best friends since… since birth, it would seem. We know each other's personality; we know each other's quirks, each other's faults, each other's virtues, each other's weaknesses, each other's strengths; we simply know each other. However, I must admit: I know Sora far better than he knows me. I understand him much better than he understands me. He, himself, has even confessed that he believes me to be an enigma. When he was fourteen (and I fifteen), he smiled at me, shaking his head as he gazed into my eyes from the seat next to mine in my bedroom, uttering, “I doubt that I will ever understand you, Riku… but that's what I like about you; you're an enigma; you're mysterious. Me… almost anyone can read like an open book… but you… you're something profound—something inexplicable. It's kinda cool—makes me wish that I could be more like you—but I know that I can't; because I'm not like that… and I never will be. I like the way that I am… but I admire the way that you are. Does that make any sense? …What am I asking? Of course it makes sense to you—everything I say makes perfect sense to you. You know me better than I know myself, sometimes.” I simply smirked at him, knowing that speech on my part was unnecessary.

The biggest thing about Sora: despite the fact that he said that he knows that he never can be… he still tries to be just like me. He wears similar clothes to mine… yet puts in his own quirky style. He likes to do whatever I do—unless this happens to be studying a subject matter that he knows nothing about. As he has gotten older, his habits of mimicking me have definitely declined, though. However, when he was a child, he used to drive me crazy mimicking me—trying to be just like me. As it turns out… he learned quite a lot from me this way—one of them being manners. He started saying `May,' `please,' `Thank you,' and a whole bunch of other things more. He started sitting up straighter at dinner and showing some etiquette while eating. His parents were quite pleased with all of this; they loved me more because of it, believing that I was a wonderful influence. They also loved me because of how intently I would always watch out for Sora's well-being.

Ever since we were children, I have protected Sora with every fiber in my body. Protecting Sora is instinct to me; it is as natural to me as breathing. I protect him from practically everything: dangerous situations, the “bad” crowd (people who might offer him drugs, cigarettes, or alcohol), pornography (even certain R-rated movies), things that will get him into trouble with his parents—everything. I do my damnedest to protect him—no matter what the cost. I like to think that I am generally successful. The only things I cannot protect him from: accidents caused by his own klutziness (although I always attempt to watch him carefully and warn him), his parents when he does something stupid without consulting me, and, in general… his friends. I cannot stop people from teasing him—even though I try to always be there to prevent or stop it; I cannot change how people talk around Sora. People tend to not think about the vulgarity of their words; I do my best to shield Sora from the sexually explicit, but even I let the “swear words” slide—even I use them, sometimes (but only when I am very angry or frustrated). If things start getting too vulgar, I usually tug at some part of Sora (his shirt, his backpack, his arm) and take him away from the offensive language. I like to think that Sora is grateful toward me for my protection… but I cannot be sure.

I can still remember an instance—an event that I will never forget—where part of Sora's purity was cracked. I flush angrily at the mere memory of it. I know that Sora has not forgotten it, either… and this rather upsets me. I wish he would. I wish I could….

Sora was twelve; I was thirteen. Sora was in sixth grade; I was in seventh. He was in his final year of elementary school… while I was beginning the rather unstable world of junior high. Mentally, spiritually, and, even rather physically, Sora has always been child-like; it is his charm. However, with sixth grade came something that I should have expected—something that I should have seen coming—something that I should have prepared for in advance. I did not. I was completely unprepared for what was coming my way… simply because I had naively believed that it would never happen—curiosity about sex would never cross Sora's mind. And then sex ed came along….

As per usual, I walked down the street, heading east from the junior high to the elementary school in order to pick up Sora and walk him home. I have always walked Sora home—ever since kindergarten (despite the fact that I was a mere first-grader—back then I even held his hand as we walked); I still walk him home even now (except, now, we both go to high school, and my walking him home is more a pattern than anything). I think Sora would feel scared if I weren't there to walk him home everyday. He hates being alone—it is one of his greatest fears. Ah, but I digress….

I do not remember exactly what day it was… simply that Sora was different when I picked him up. He did not greet me as cheerfully as he usually did; he was more… pensive. A pensive Sora never fails to send red flags up in my head. As we walked along the sidewalk, with me on his left, and fences and houses passing by on his right, I asked, “Sora? What's wrong?”

He mumbled, “Nothing's wrong. I'm just… thinking.”

I regarded him carefully as I questioned, “Thinking about what?”

“Sex.”

I was so shocked that I stopped in my tracks, forcing Sora to stop and turn around. His brows furrowed as he asked, “What?”

Recovering my grace, I began walking beside him, keeping my voice casual as I wondered, “What's got you thinking about sex?”

He kicked at a pebble as we came to a stoplight, waiting for the signal to cross. He wouldn't look at me as he declared, “Today we started sex ed. We're going to be having it all week. Today was just to sort-of introduce us to the concept that we're going to be learning about some more mature stuff.”

I fell quiet, speaking only to tell Sora that we needed to cross. When I remained quiet, however, Sora became worried, looking over at me as he wondered, “What are you thinking about?”

I shrugged, mumbling the very vague phrase of: “Just things... memories.”

I avoided looking at him as he questioned, “About sex ed?”

“Yeah…. I was rather… fascinated by it. I thought it was interesting.”

He grinned, jeering into my face, “You think everything is `fascinating' or `interesting'!”

I smirked at his childish behavior, conceding, “Most things, yes….”

Clasping his hand behind his head, Sora casually inquired, “Do you think that I'll like sex ed? Or do you think that I'll be freaked out by it?”

I honestly answered, “I don't know, Sora. I suppose we'll just have to see and find out, won't we?”

“Yeah….”

Looking over, I discovered that Sora was gazing up at the sky in a contemplative manner, admiring the shapes of fluffy, white clouds against the dazzling blue. He admitted, “I'm kind-of excited about it—learning about sex and stuff. I mean… I know that you never let me watch anything bad on TV—or read anything dirty—but I hear that there's a lot of stuff out there in the world concerning sex. It makes me kinda curious—it makes me wanna know what it is… and how it works and all… you know?” He turned his head toward me, his elbows still jutting out. I simply nodded. After that, we moved on to a discussion of other things; however, in the back of my mind, I knew that something not-so-good was on the horizon—I could feel it.

Each day, Sora would have new questions for me on our walk home. They started off simply as anatomical questions and then became more… difficult to answer. I assumed that Wednesday was the day that they watched a video talking about wet dreams because Sora innocently asked me, “Hey, Riku? Have you ever had a wet dream before?”

Since I am always honest with Sora, I told him the truth with a single word: “Yes.”

He pressed, “What's it like?”

I blushed, mumbling, “Really embarrassing. You don't really have control of your body. Things happen without your consent—mostly at night… but sometimes during the middle of the day, too.”

I avoided his gaze as he questioned, “You mean… like an erection? Or the `emission of semen'?”

It was difficult for me to hear those words come out of Sora's innocent mouth. He was obviously quoting whatever health film he'd seen. All I said in response was: “Yeah.”

And then he asked me if I still got them. I cryptically replied, “Not so much anymore.”

“But I thought that it usually occurs `between the ages of twelve to eighteen, or when puberty ends'?”

“It's different for every guy, Sora. Every person is different. But… you should know that it's nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about—when it does happen to you. It's a natural part of life; every guy goes through it.”

“Okay.”

For the rest of that walk, we resumed talking about normal things—things that had nothing to do with sex.

The following day proved to be host to another round of embarrassing questions.

Sora looked over at me, staring at me intently as he pursed his lips, wondering, “Riku? Do you masturbate?”

Somehow, I can never lie to Sora; it has always been this way… and continues to be so.

“Yes.”

For the rest of the walk, he fired questions at me… and I avoided looking at him.

“What does it feel like when you masturbate?”

I flushed. “It feels…” I swallowed, nervously finishing, “…good.”

“Do you think it's `natural' to `explore your own body'?”

“Yes. It's part of what makes you more knowledgeable about things.”

He laughed, crying, “And you lovebeing knowledgeable!”I said nothing to this, flushing more in embarrassment. Hardly ten seconds later, more questions came flying at me—questions about the chemical process involved; about how often one should masturbate (how much is too much); how masturbation could help make `nocturnal emissions' and other problems… less. Our walk was, thankfully, not very long at all. As we approached Sora's house, he randomly requested, “Riku? May I come over to your house tomorrow?—since it's Friday and all?”

“Sure, Sora. We'll just head straight to my house tomorrow.”

He grinned at me, gushing, “Okay! See you tomorrow!” He then bounded up the steps of his porch and into his house.

Sora and I still live in the same houses that we did back then. I still live just a block away from him; we still go back and forth between each other's houses all the time—just like when we were kids. Some things never change; then again… some things do… because they must.

Friday turned out to be the most difficult day of all. Sora had no questions for me on the walk home; we both simply treaded the familiar path to my house, side by side, in pensive silence. The truth: Sora was waiting until we sat down on my bed to ask me the biggest, hardest question he had ever asked me.

“Riku? Will you masturbate for me?”

Very rarely does Sora shock me into speechlessness… but that time was one of the instances where he did. It made my heart pound until I felt nauseous. I just stared at him; I stared at him so much that he frowned at me, squirming self-consciously. He offered as an explanation, “I want to know what it looks like… and I don't know what to do about any of it. And… there's no one else I can ask. I can't ask my dad… because that's just… weird… and kinda gross. I figured that it would be okay to ask you… because we're so close—because we're best friends. Closer than close, right?” I mindlessly nodded my head in response to this last question.

When I regained my voice, I blushingly mumbled, “I don't think I should show you. I could tell you about it… but I don't think I should show you.” Before Sora could say anything to protest, I began telling him every detail that I could think of about the process of getting an erection; about the process of masturbation—even going so far as to describe the concept of pre-cum and orgasm. It embarrassed me that I had to tell him all of this… but I soothed myself by thinking, `At least I am the one telling him… and not someone else… or some form of media. At least with me… things are controlled and safe.' I still felt uneasy, though.

Unfortunately, this did not quite satisfy the curious Sora; he pressed, “I want to see it, though. I want to know how to handle it for when things start happening to me. Please, Riku?”

Panicking, I attempted to steer him away from the idea by insisting, “Sora, no! You won't even like it! It's gross; it's disgusting; it's… dirty! And… I wouldn't feel right… showing you that.”

He surprised me by countering, “I thought you said that it was nothing to feel guilty about—nothing to be ashamed about!” He lowered his head, giving me a forceful look with those big, blue eyes of his. “Huh? What about that, huh?” He pursed his lips at me, narrowing his eyes in… resentment, it would seem.

I gently uttered, “That's different, Sora. I said that it's nothing to be ashamed about when it happens with you—when you're on your own. It's different when you factor in two people—it makes it… different.” He was really frazzling my brain with this whole thing.

In an offer to coax me into it, he vehemently swore, “I won't laugh at you—I promise! I won't think any different about you! I swear!” He scooted closer to me as he begged, “Please, Riku? Please? You're the only one that can help me with this! There's no one else that I can turn to! Please? Help me? Show me? Teach me?”

I repeated, “It's gross, Sora. You wouldn't like it.”

He scowled at me, huffing, “How do you know?! Maybe I would like it! And… `gross' is a matter of opinion! Remember that time that I skinned my knee while climbing the tree to get a paopu fruit? Kairi thought that was gross… but I thought that it looked cool!” He abruptly wrinkled his nose at me, accusing, “That's it, isn't it? It's not really gross at all—you just don't want to show me something cool.”

I groaned, wanting to bash my head against the wall. It was very difficult not to yell to get my point across. “Sora, trust me! It's not cool—it's something dirty.”

“I don't care! Show me anyway!”

“Sora….”

He challenged, “Show me… or I'll… I'll… I'll have someone else show me—like… like… Tidus… or Wakka… or someone else!”

Unwanted images flashed through my brain at this threat; I began picturing one after the other of the aforementioned two showing Sora… showing Sora something that I was trying to protect him from. This made me sick inside. I knew that if it were anyone else… they wouldn't have any care for Sora's innocent mind; they would talk vulgarly and pollute his mind—probably even tell him that he should do it often—all the time—that it felt awesome. These thoughts swayed me; still feeling nauseated, I shakily conceded, “All right, Sora. …I'll show you.”

Sora blinked, probably not actually expecting me to cave. He just stared at me and blinked a lot before finally mumbling, “Okay.”

I got up so that I could lock my door—just to be safe. My mother was at work… but things happen—and I didn't want to risk her coming into the room as I… as I was doing that—especially since Sora was in the room with me

Back on the bed, hesitating for a good long instant, I brought my trembling hands to my pants; my hands were shaking so badly that I could hardly undo them. After a moment of deliberation, I decided that I should remove my pants and my boxers so that Sora could see… everything. After all… the only reason that I was even doing this was to educate him. I knew that I wasn't about to enjoy this. The thought of getting off in front of him—so innocent—so pure—made me want to throw up; it made me sick everywhere in my body—but especially in my heart and stomach. I hated the fact that the time had come to bring part of Sora's shield down. I hated it.

I don't know why I even sat back down—considering that I stood right back up in order to pull off my pants and boxers. I felt ashamed as the cool air of my room brushed over my body; I felt ashamed that Sora could now see my bare behind at this more mature age (because we had seen each other naked plenty of times before this… but when we were younger… and it didn't matter—back when it was still okay to be naked in front of each other). I was then rooted to the spot, unable to turn to face him… because I didn't want him to see me in this way; I didn't want to have to go through with this task that I had agreed to.

Sora sounded worried as he asked, “Riku? Are you okay?” I could feel his eyes peering at me—at the back of my head—in concern. He backpedaled, offering,“If… If you're really that uncomfortable with it… you don't have to show me.”

I intoned, my voice unintentionally husky, “I'd rather be the one to show you… than someone else. At least with me… I know that you're… safe.” Huffing out a breath, I willed myself to turn around—to face Sora.

His eyes locked on mine; he did not look down. Instead, he questioned, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

He nodded. And then… as he looked down at my revealed lower half, his cheeks flushed, bringing out the blue in his eyes. He self-consciously mumbled, “It… looks like mine… except… you don't have any hair. I mean… I only have a little bit of hair… but… well… I have some.”

I blushed, explaining, “I shave.”

“Oh.” He abruptly ducked his head, biting down on his lower lip as he shyly requested, “Could you… become erect… now?”

I started masturbating at the age of twelve. Even though I knew that it was wrong… even though I tended to feel sick inside afterward… I always imagined Sora… doing… stimulating things. I still do, really. And I feel shame every time I touch myself in such a disgusting way—which is why I hardly ever masturbate. Thinking back now, I can't even remember the last time that I did—I can't remember how long ago it was.

Anyway… at Sora's request, I shut my eyes, trying to think of something that would cause arousal… anything but Sora. Thinking about Sora while I am in the darkness of my room, about to go to sleep… that is somehow “acceptable”—because the darkness lowers my inhibitions. Thinking about Sora… when he is literally sitting on my bed in front of me… no. I could not do it. And so… this led me to try and imagine someone generic—someone faceless—in a sexual situation, groaning and moaning; and body parts moving. My vivid imagination worked wonders; it was not long before I became fully erect… in front of Sora.

Inhaling tremulously, I opened my eyes to see Sora—he was staring at my erection, regarding it thoughtfully. He lifted his gaze to my eyes, asking, “May I touch it?”

Despite the fact that there was nothing sexy about the way that he asked that… I pulsed with a fresh wave of arousal. For his sake and mine, I answered, “No, Sora. I don't think you should.” He swallowed, simply nodding his head.

A moment later, he requested, “Could you… finish… showing me… then?” This I could do; and even though I felt dirty and embarrassed to do so… I pleasured myself before him, stroking and moaning and generally caressing myself. It didn't help that Sora was watching my movements with curious, big, blue, heart-stopping eyes and rosy cheeks. Still going slowly, I took a moment to decide what I was going to do about my climax. Sora wanted education on this; he wanted to see how it worked. My decision: I would release my fluids onto my bedspread—which I would then wash immediately afterward.

When the small drop of fluid came out, Sora questioned, his eyes intent upon my member, “Is that the pre-cum?”

I attempted to say, “Yeah…” normally… but it came out rather… abnormally—rather sexually because I was still stroking myself. Sora blushed, shifting a bit in discomfort as he continued watching me from beneath his eyelashes.

As my moment began to approach, I pumped faster and faster and panted out, “Move to the foot of the bed.” He obediently scooted back, giving me the space I needed… to release. We both stared at the tainted spot on my bed; I panted, and Sora sat there quietly, his lips pursed together.

He abruptly declared, “I think I have an erection.”

I couldn't help it; I grinned, and I teased him, “You think?”

He flushed, nodding while pursing his lips more. His voice was soft—almost inaudible—as he requested, “Help me? …Just this once? You can just… tell me what to do… if you want….”

I nodded in agreement before putting my discarded clothing back on and sitting next to Sora. I waited patiently as he undid his pants—as he got up and removed them before coming back to his original spot. I regarded his erection… and how boyish he looked, and I felt shame. I enjoyed the sight of his erection far too much for my own good, which was what shamed me.

The process of helping Sora was slow. First, I told him to turn so that he was facing the head of the bed—so that when his orgasm arrived, he would just release onto the covers like I had. I would tell him what to do… and he would hesitantly try it, obeying every command. It exhilarated and sickened me. I hated this moment. I hated myself for loving the soft moans that came from Sora as he got the hang of pleasuring himself. It took all of my strength and willpower not to reach out and help him physically—and not to become aroused again. I felt like a horrible human being as I hungrily watched Sora hit his very first orgasm, his body jerking as he gasped… and his fluids spurted out onto my covers. Even though I hated myself for it… I knew that this day would fuel my imagination for the times that I did masturbate.

After that, Sora sat there… and shook. I didn't know what to do for him. I wanted to hold him… but I felt disgusted with myself. I didn't want to touch him; I felt as if I had no right to touch him. Sure, this was just a new stage in Sora's development… and he had to go through it sometime… and I was perhaps the only person in the world who would do this with him without trying to pollute him further… but I still hated it.

Finally, after a good deal of sitting there, Sora got off the bed and put his boxers and pants back on—I looked away as he did so. In fact, I got off the bed and busied myself with peeling off the covers so that I could toss them in the wash. As we headed down the hall toward the front door, I told Sora to go watch some TV or have a snack while I started up the washing machine. He nodded his head, silently separating from me as I went into the garage… and he went into the living room and turned on the TV. When I came back in, he sat there, watching TV… but not really watching it. I warily sat down beside him; he immediately looked over at me, frowning sadly and staring pleadingly into my eyes while asking, “Do you hate me now?”

He looked so sad… I had to hug him. He gratefully embraced me, nuzzling my shoulder as I insisted, “I don't hate you, Sora. I could never hate you. I'm just… I'm upset that you're growing up is all.”

“I'm sorry.”

I gave a short laugh at this, stroking his upper back. “It's not your fault. Things change… and people grow up. This had to happen eventually.”

“…I'm glad that it happened with you. I would have been a lot more scared… I would have hated it… if it were someone else. …Thank you, Riku.”

I flushed, mumbling, “You're welcome.”

After that, our relationship reverted back to the way it had always been. We never talked about that day… but we both knew that neither of us would ever forget it.

“What memory are you dwelling in?”

I lift my head from my pillow, blinking softly as I stare to my right at Sora, insisting, “I'm just thinking.”

He shakes his head at me from his spot in my computer chair (only a foot away from my bed), refuting, “You're not just thinking. When you think, your eyes get distant—but you can see the gears turning or whatever. When you daydream or think back on a memory, your eyes get distant… and hazy—like you're not here in the present anymore.”

I smirk at him. “You know me too well.”

“Mmhm. So… in what memory were you dwelling?”

I grin at Sora's light mockery of the way I always speak formally (properly). My grin falls, though, and I look away from him, answering, “Nothing, really.” I don't want to tell him that I was reflecting on the time that I educated him sexually. It's embarrassing enough.

Since I do not answer him, Sora gets up, comes over to my bedside… and then proceeds to rotate around and flop back onto my stomach. I grunt at the sudden weight. He stares at the ceiling while draped across me and states, “I'm not moving until you tell me.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to tell you.”

He smirks, accusing, “You were having dirty thoughts—you were blushing.” He turns his face toward me, grinning mischievously as he jeers, “You were picturing Naminé naked, weren't you?”

I snort at this. “Hardly! You know that I admire her for her intelligence—that is all.”

“Uh-huh… and it doesn't matter one bit that she's a beautiful girl—an eighteen-year-old girl—with long legs, perky boobs, and big, blue eyes that look right into your soul?” Unfortunately, Sora has become quite grown up by now—although he likes to act immature.

I, again, snort at his words, refuting, “While I admit that she is lovely to look at… I would like to reiterate the fact that I adore her intelligence above anything else.”

He grins, jeering, “Yeah, sure! And Kairi adores the intelligence and the strategy that all those blitzers have!”

I chuckle at this. “Kairi is different from me; I am more of an intellectual than someone who delights in… strategies.”

He snickers at my euphemism. I take this opportunity to ask, “So… are you getting off any time soon? It's getting a little hard to breathe.”

Sora happily nestles against me, clasping his hands behind his head as he gazes up at my ceiling, beaming as he declares, “Nope! You still haven't told me what embarrassing thoughts you were having! I'm not moving till you do!”

Huffing (as much as I can while having the added weight pressing down on me), I mutter, “I was thinking about how I don't masturbate very much—how I'm not the type to masturbate.”

The brunet turns his head toward me, murmuring, “Okay… but that still doesn't explain the hazy eyes.”

Heat flushes my face as I confess, “I was thinking about the time that you started sex ed… and that made me think on how I don't masturbate very much.”

I didn't say it… but we both know that my mind went back on that day.

Sora grins, suggesting, “You could always change that, you know.”

I tear my eyes away from him, staring up at the ceiling as I state, “I don't like to—I prefer not to.”

“You `prefer not to'? Heh. Guess you must be part of a very exclusive group of guys who `prefer not to' get off.”

“Guess so.”

A moment of silence passes between. I look down at him and ask, “Are you getting off me now?”

He chuckles, nodding before sitting up and returning to his seat at the computer. I feel all hot and bothered now because of Sora. I abruptly get up, moving over to my dresser to get clean clothes as I state, “I'm going to take a shower.”

Those blue eyes lock onto mine as their owner questions, “In the middle of the day?”

“It's summer, still. Why not? It's pretty hot out; a shower might feel nice. The air is always colder after a hot shower.”

“Okay. …Have fun with that.”

I smirk as I pass by him, retorting, “Thanks! I'm sure I will!”

Halfway through my shower, someone knocks on the door. Opening the stall door, I call, “YEAH?”

Sora calls through the door, “I just need to come in to use the restroom.”

“COME ON IN!” I quickly retreat back into my chamber of steamy water so that Sora will not catch a glimpse of me naked and wet (which would make things rather awkward between us).

I hear the door open and close… and then I see a blurred, distorted Sora approach the toilet (which is right outside the shower stall). I turn my head away, letting the water rush over my face as I hear the toilet seat being lifted… and Sora relieving his bladder. I remind him, “Don't flush!”

“I wasn't gonna.” The toilet seat is cautiously lowered.

Nothing happens for the longest moment. When I feel no movement of him walking away toward the sink, and instead sense that he is now sitting on the toilet, I question, “Are you planning on staying awhile?”

He mutters, “I have to take a dump.”

“Okay. Just try not to stink up my bathroom too much.”

Some time passes, and I awkwardly begin lathering soap over my body. I feel uncomfortable with Sora still in the room. I ask, “Is everything okay?”

“I think I'm constipated.”

I flush at how intimate and embarrassing this information is before suggesting, “Try massaging your sacral muscles.”

“Which ones are those?”

I rinse off as I reply, “Where your lower back meets your rear end down into your butt—the backside of your pelvic region. Usually, if you stimulate your sacral muscles… it helps relax you, making it easier to go.”

“Oh. I'll have to remember that.”

I submerge my head under the rush of the water from the showerhead so that I will not have to listen to Sora “taking a dump”. It is a great relief when he gets up… that is… until he forgets and flushes the toilet. I gasp in shock as my nice, steamy, hot water becomes icy cold. Sora apologetically calls out, “Sorry! Force of habit! I really didn't mean to!”

Attempting to recover now that the hot water is back, I reply, “That's okay. I know you didn't. Hurry up and wash your hands—and get out—so that I can get out.”

“All right.”

I step out of the way of the spray of water as Sora turns on the faucet, doing his best to quickly wash his hands. Just before he leaves, Sora informs me that he will be in my room—on the computer.

“Okay! See you in a bit!”

Despite the fact that it is the middle of July, and the cold air will eventually feel good compared to the heat, the change in atmosphere is still a shock to my nude, wet body. It is a relief to get into my fresh, clean clothes.

I stick my head into my room, asking Sora, “Hey! You wanna go get a smoothie or something?”

Sora lights right up, exclaiming, “Sure!” He pops up into a standing position, grabs my wallet for me, and then rushes out to the garage—to my car, waiting in the passenger seat for me.

We end up not getting smoothies. We go to a coffee place, where I get a frappuccino and Sora gets a blended, chocolate, icy sort of drink that makes me think of `milkshake'—but without the ice cream taste to it. The two of us sit across from each other at a little table, enjoying the soft overhead music, the smells, and most definitely the air conditioning. (Unfortunately, the air conditioning system at my house does not quite reach my bedroom—which makes hanging out up there semi-unpleasant because we have to rely on a big fan to circulate air.)

As we are halfway through our drinks, the door opens, drawing our attention—a natural reaction, really. Ironically, Naminé walks in with someone on her right that we cannot see very clearly. Sora calls out, “Naminé!” and waves her over. The blonde smiles, sauntering over to us with her friend in tow.

I blink in surprise at the teenage guy standing beside my friend. He could pass for Sora's double… were it not for his blond hair. His eyes are the same shade of blue—but not the same at all. Dressed in knee-length khaki shorts, black flip-flops, and a white t-shirt with a simple blue design on the front, he looks like any regular teenage guy; he reminds me of Sora.

Naminé smiles, putting her hand on the guy's left shoulder as she cries, “It's so funny that you two should be here! I was thinking of having you meet Roxas here! Roxas, these are my friends, Riku and Sora.” (She gestures at us accordingly.)

Sora simply nods his head because he happened to take a big gulp at the inopportune time; I, however, stand, extending my hand as I utter, “Nice to meet you.” The blond squeezes my hand, staring into my eyes as he smiles and returns the sentiments, his eyes darting downward at the end before traveling back up. His smile turns into a rather pleased grin. One thing translates in my brain: He just checked me out. I quickly release his hand, smiling politely as I reclaim my seat, offering, “Why don't you guys join us?”

Naminé beams, delighting in this idea; Roxas's blue eyes twinkle as he grins, softly agreeing. The two then get in line to get their drinks. Sora now seems sulky at the idea that our peaceful one-on-one time is now to be split up. He doesn't look at me as he childishly slurps more of his drink. Somehow… I just know that he doesn't like Roxas; I get the feeling that he feels threatened by him—like he thinks that Roxas and I will become friends—best friends—and the blond will steal me away.

I call, “Hey!” to get his attention. He looks up curiously, his mouth still around the straw. I lean forward, smiling just for him as I quietly utter, “Even if Roxas turns out to be a really cool guy… and we become pretty good friends… he won't be able to touch the place in my heart that you have. You're always number one, Sora—best friend for life and beyond.”

Sora's lips curl into a smile around his straw as he ducks his head, his cheeks rosy, and nods a bit. I now feel content and sit back in my seat, calmly sipping the rest of my drink and finishing it off by the time Naminé and Roxas arrive at our table. Roxas sits on my left; Naminé sits on my right. The spiky-haired teen scoots his chair just a little bit closer to mine, making it seem like he is really just scooting it closer to the table. I smile at Naminé, asking, “So… Naminé? Are you and Roxas… together?”

She laughs, crying, “Oh, no! We're just good friends. Roxas actually has different… tastes, if you know what I mean.”

I bluntly retort, “Yes, I know. He was blatantly checking me out five seconds into being introduced to me.”

He blushes, grinning and shrugging helplessly. He then busies himself with stirring his straw around in his frozen beverage, happily drinking some of it because that means he does not have to talk.

Naminé harmlessly flirts, knowing that she and I are simply just friends, “Can you blame him, though, Riku? You're positively gorgeous!” She smiles coyly at me. I turn my charm toward her, grabbing her hand so that I may plant a kiss on the back of it. She giggles, teasing, “Oh, you flirt!”

Sora snorts, refuting, “That's the last thing Riku is!”

Naminé smiles in her kind way at Sora as she concedes, “You're right. It's still fun to tease him about it, though—even if it's the farthest thing from the truth.” She shoots me a small grin; I smirk at her. The blonde then goes on to inform us that Roxas just recently moved here from Twilight Town. She insists that Sora and I help him get settled better—help him to make more friends.

I calmly state, “You must be requesting this of Sora. You know that I have very few friends.”

She sighs, exasperated, and replies, “That's because you never open yourself up to anyone else, Riku. The only reason you opened up to me was because we ended up in the same class for AP Psych, and you liked the way I interpreted dreams and memories.”

I smirk, conceding, “You won my heart over by stimulating my mind.”

She laughs at this. “I guess the way to your heart isn't through your stomach like most guys—it's through your brain!”

Sora grins and jokingly bemoans, “Guess that means I'd have been screwed if we hadn't grown up together!”

Becoming pensive, I muse, “I think you still might have caught my eye. After all: it's not your intelligence that I admire, Sora; it's your heart.”

He flushes, grinning adorably at this. Roxas, still sipping his drink, glances between the two of us. His eyes meet mine, and, in that instant, understanding passes between us. The realization hits him that I love my best friend; he removes his mouth from his straw. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. Roxas smiles knowingly, giving a very faint nod, breaking the eye contact as he stares down at the tabletop, still smiling. I suddenly feel all too exposed; it scares me that someone besides me knows this most intimate detail of my heart.

Roxas seems to sense this. He leans over, whispering in my ear, “Don't worry. It's not terribly obvious. I can only tell because… well… I have experience.” He withdraws, telling the whole table (while looking into Naminé's eyes),“I don't really know if I could handle making new friends here. …I had it really bad for my best friend back home. It broke my heart when my mom told me that we were moving. My friend didn't even act all that concerned that I was leaving—which is what broke my heart, I guess. Heh! Oh well! His loss!”

Naminé reaches out, patting his hand as she beams and cries, “That's right! I know I've only known you for a few days… but I think that you're very sweet, Roxas!”

He grins, gushing, “Aww! I think you're a sweetheart, too, Naminé!”

Considering that Sora is pouting… and the two of us have already finished our drinks, I stand, politely proclaiming, “Well, Sora and I need to get going. It was nice meeting you, Roxas; it was good seeing you again, Naminé.” She stands so that she may hug me; I kiss her cheek, and she smiles. Roxas looks quite exuberant as I shake his hand, telling him that I look forward to seeing more of him. He vigorously nods, offering to give me his number. Naminé titters, exclaiming, “Whoa! Exchanging digits already! That's some pretty fast mojo you have there, Roxas!” He playfully tells her to shut up while happily entering his contact information into my phone. Out of politeness, I give him mine. With my hand on Sora's upper back, I wave and vacate the premises, glad to be driving back home.

Sora seems sullen the whole way home; he huffs as he flops down on my bed, glaring at the ceiling. Heaving a sigh, I sit on the edge of the bed and ask, “Why are you getting so bent out of shape? I already told you that Roxas will not replace you—no one could ever replace you, Sora. You're my best friend. We'll stay that way forever. So… chill.”

Now he seems even more uptight, making me wonder if I said something wrong. He childishly denies, “I'm not mad about Roxas. I'm mad about….” He purses his lips, falling into silence; he is apparently unable to think of a good enough excuse. I grin at this, shaking my head as I press down on the mattress with my hands to stand. Sora's unpredictable behavior never fails to amuse me.

For the rest of the afternoon, I am on the computer… and Sora lies on my bed, sulking. Only when I mention that it is nearing his dinnertime does he get up. He surprises me by wrapping his arms around me from behind, resting his cheek on my shoulder as he mumbles, “Do you promise that you won't find a new best friend—that you won't replace me?”

I grasp at his forearms, squeezing them. “I promise.”

He nods, then pulls away, muttering, “You don't need to walk me home tonight. See you tomorrow.” I stare after him as he leaves.

Sora has always been insecure; this has never changed. And now that Roxas has abruptly come into the picture… his insecurities rage. All I can do is sigh and hope that things will work out the way that they are supposed to.

To my great surprise (and pleasure), I discover that Roxas is into computers, and that he is quite knowledgeable about many things. A couple of days into our friendship, he and I sit at my computer, in the morning, while he shows me ways to make the machine run faster—more efficiently; he also helps me install a new security device including an amazing anti-virus program. I grin at him, jokingly gushing, “What would I ever do without you?”

He smirks, retorting, “Have a not-so-awesome computer.” We laugh… and then things get a little awkward because Roxas decides to abruptly pick something off my right cheek (near the corner of my eye), mumbling, “You have a crusty…” as he does so. I watch as he flicks it from his finger, turning back to face the computer screen. I find myself blushing for the sole reason of: I know that Roxas is gay… and is crushing on me.

I jump as, out of nowhere, the quiet is shattered by the front door closing. Footsteps sound down the hall… and my bedroom door swings open to reveal Sora. I smile at him, greeting, “Hey, Sora! Come here and check out how much faster my computer runs!” He obediently approaches me, standing on my left as he leans in to peer at the screen. I flush at his close proximity, discreetly inhaling through my nostrils so that I may catch a whiff of his scent. I smile at the familiar smell; it never fails to warm my heart.

Sora is technologically challenged, which is why I am not surprised when he mutters, “Yeah, really nice, Riku,” and quickly pulls back. He seems uptight and generally unhappy that Roxas is sitting on my right—my preferred side. This is why I suggest that we all head to the kitchen to get something to eat. Roxas and I stand, and I gesture for him to leave the room first. Sora follows immediately behind, at my back as we head down the hall to the kitchen.

As a mark of how close we are—and as a signal to Roxas—Sora goes straight to my fridge, pulling out the supplies to make our usual breakfast for Monday. He even states, “Monday: French toast.”

During the school year, he eats breakfast at his house before I get there to pick him up and either walk—or more recently: drive—him to school. During summer, though, he comes over in the morning to eat breakfast with me. We have a “menu” for the week—a certain thing for each certain day because we like the familiarity of this routine.

Roxas grins, exclaiming, “I love French toast! I can't cook for shit, though!” He laughs.

I smirk, offering, “Pity. Guess that means that Sora and I will be handling breakfast, then.”

Sora beams, looking rather delighted. He never looks smug (because it is not in his nature), but this expression of his is as close to smug as Sora can get. I can see it in his eyes how he gloats wordlessly while helping me start up the process of making French toast. When he thinks that I am not looking, he sticks his tongue out Roxas, grinning in a jeering way. I roll my eyes at him.

As I keep an eye on the cooking food, I request that Sora set the table. He nods, hurrying to acquiesce. I put everything on one big plate because I do not know how much of everything everyone will want. The big plate goes in the center as I take my usual seat, and Sora claims his—the one on my right. This forces Roxas to sit on the adjacent side—on my left.

Roxas takes a bite of the French toast and compliments, “Mmm! This is great, guys! Thanks!”

I murmur a polite, “You're welcome.” Sora says nothing, preferring to eat his own breakfast and sip at his orange juice.

After a bit of quiet, Roxas comments, “You have a nice house, Riku. Very spacious… but inviting, at the same time. It's nice.”

I question, “How are you settling in at your place?”

He laughs, supplying, “Well enough, I guess. There's still a lot of unpacking to do. Actually, after this, I should probably head back to finish doing that.” I nod my head; quiet falls again as we work on eating.

Sora is the first to finish—because, even though I tell him that it's better for his digestion and metabolism to eat slowly, he still eats faster than I would like him to. I finish not too long after him. He offers to take my plate to the sink and rinse it for me. I smile at him as I hand it to him with a soft, “Thanks.” He grins, humming happily to himself as he rinses them off. He then bounds back to his original seat, intent upon not being left out of anything.

When Roxas stands, I take his plate, rinsing it for him. He stands around for a moment before thanking me for breakfast and saying that he should get home. His brunet counterpart is incredibly cheerful at this, wishing him luck with his unpacking. The blond teen nods, wishing us a good afternoon before vacating my house. I sigh when he is gone, reprimanding Sora, “Sora… be nice. I like Roxas… but certainly not as much as I like you. You are no way in danger of losing your spot to Roxas. So… relax.”

He nods before grinning and randomly asking if I want to play video games. I smirk, taunting, “What's the point? I always beat you!”

His chest puffs out as he jabs it with his thumb, declaring, “Not all the time! And, today, I am going to beat you! So there!”

I chuckle, putting my hand on his upper back as we head off to begin our marathon of fighting games.

Summer has an odd way of progressing without you realizing it. Somehow, one day blends into two which blends into three… which somehow warps into a week... and time keeps ticking on.

Before I can even process it, two weeks have slipped on by.

Roxas, Sora, and I are at the beach, having just bought ice cream from a vendor. Sora is sucking on a Fudgsicle. I am eating a chocolate chip cookie and vanilla ice cream sandwich, cautiously biting because the cold temperature bothers my teeth. Roxas is busy licking a square-shaped, light blue Popsicle, taste-testing a new flavor: sea-salt ice cream. I wonder, “How is it?”

He nods his head, grinning at the treat as he claims, “It's pretty good, actually.” He proffers it to me, grinning as he offers, “Want a taste?”

Shaking my head, I politely refuse, “No, thanks. I'll take your word on it.” Sora smiles around his Fudgsicle. It is now that we decide to move around. Sora walks on my right, and Roxas strolls along on my left.

Roxas thoughtfully sucks on his treat as we walk, watching the ocean ebb and flow, admiring the way the sun glitters on the water. He muses, “It's beautiful here… but… I still miss home.”

Swallowing my bite of creamy coldness, I respond, “That's understandable.”

The blond turns his head, smiling at me. Without warning, he leans in and kisses me on the lips. The three of us stop in our tracks. I glance at Sora as he drops his Fudgsicle on the ground, staring with wide eyes as he gapes at Roxas. He seems… horrified… that Roxas just kissed me. Turning my attention back to Roxas, I find that I am speechless; I, too, stare and (slightly) gape at him. I blink a lot, trying to process the fact that my first kiss was just stolen.

The blond blushes, looking down self-consciously as he mumbles, “Sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's just… I really like you, Riku.” He lifts his gaze to mine, repeating, “I really like you. You're… amazing. You're so incredibly smart… you know so many things… and even though you keep it locked up tight, afraid to let anyone in… I know that you have a wonderful heart.” He sighs, offering, “I don't claim to love you… because I know that I don't… but I do really like you. …Sorry for kissing you like that. I just… couldn't help it.” And then… he turns and walks away, sucking on his ice cream on a stick, leaving Sora and me to stand helplessly frozen to the spot in his wake.

My heart is racing from the brief touch. My cheeks are flushed. I am still disbelieving—even as Sora and I resume walking—that Roxas stole my first kiss. Hoping to get my mind off it, I offer, “Want me to buy you another Fudgsicle?” Sora shakes his head, seemingly mute after witnessing Roxas's advance. We continue on in silence.

When I finish my treat, I toss the wrapper in a trash can that I see, telling Sora that I need to use the bathroom—to wash my hands. He silently follows me in there, mindlessly staring at my hands as I lather them up with soap in order to remove the sticky residue of the ice cream melting onto my fingers. He shadows me as I move over to the machine which will dry my hands; his eyes remain focused on them as the machine roars, and hot air gusts over my soaking appendages. When they are dry, I signal to Sora with a simple, “Come on,” and we head back out.

Neither of us feels like talking… so we just… walk. We walk along the sidewalk with the sand on our left and the asphalt on our right… and we say nothing.

I stop in my tracks, turning toward the horizon to admire the sunset; Sora also stops and turns, staring out at the beautiful colors and the way the light refracts upon the water. Without warning, Sora softly asks, “Do you like him? Did you like it when he kissed you?”

I swivel my head to regard him, supplying, “I don't know. That was my first kiss. I'm still… reeling at the fact that he even got the guts up to kiss me. I mean… I know that he's been crushing on me… but that took some serious guts to just up and kiss me like that… to just lay it all out there like that. You know?” Sora nods, staring out at the sea. I, too, return to admiring the view.

Something tickles inside me—squirming, actually. I am never one for spontaneous action… but this sensation bothers me, forcing me into action. My hands grasp Sora's shoulders, turning him to face me quickly. Before I can even stop to think, I plant my lips on his, kissing him for a prolonged moment before rapidly withdrawing, my hands remaining on his shoulders. We stare into each other's eyes, uncertain and nervous. And then… our eyes slip closed… and we share another sunset kiss, making it last, basking in it. This time, when we pull apart, we smile at each other. Sora pulls back, offering me his hand; I take it… and we walk the rest of way home… hand in hand—almost like when we were children, but, somehow… much sweeter.

The next day, I call Roxas over to my house in the early morning. He seems nervous around me—self-conscious after his kiss. I do my best to be gentle as I inform him of the events after he left. He actually grins at me, saying, “Good. I was hoping that all of that would spur you guys into action!”

I blink, not quite understanding. He explains, “Riku… I do like you… but I really only see you as a friend. I figured that by pretending to like you… I could gauge just how much Sora liked you… and therefore make him jealous enough to realize if he liked you in that way or not. And… apparently… it worked.”

After a moment, I find myself laughing and quickly embracing Roxas, murmuring, “Thank you,” into his ear.

He squeezes me, offering, “No problem,” in return. When he withdraws, he grins at me, stating, “You know… I think things are working out just the way that they're supposed to be.”

“What do you mean?”

He blushes, confessing, “My friend called me yesterday—before we went out. He said… he apologized for acting like he didn't care that I left… when, really… it broke his heart to watch me leave. He told me that he's going to come visit me… and that… he loves me.”

I grin at this, crying, “Wow! Good for you!” I move to embrace him again. As we are pulling back, we hear the front door close. Not too long after, the bedroom door opens, and Sora enters. Roxas strides over to him, offering a handshake and a smile. After a moment of hesitation, Sora shakes his hand, returning the smile.

Roxas looks over at me, uttering, “It's been fun.”

I nod and reply, “It has. …Good luck with your friend.”

He grins, responding, “Good luck with yours!” He winks at me… then at Sora… then leaves.

Sora stares after him before turning toward me and asking, “…He didn't really like you that way, did he?”

“Nope. He just wanted to help us get together.”

“Oh. …I like him. He's a nice guy.”

I laugh at this. Sora approaches me, wrapping his arms around me before nuzzling my chest. “I love you, Riku.”

I hold him closer, murmuring sweetly, “I love you, too, Sora.” I plant a tender kiss to his forehead and smile.

In many instances, Sora's questions born out of curiosity have caused me embarrassment or bewilderment. In the case of his curiosity towards Roxas's feelings for me… those questions unlocked many new doors for the both of us.

A/N: Well… that was interesting to write. Lol.

I hope you all enjoyed it.

Please review!

Kagome-chan