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The world smudges and blurs, going from crisp lines, bright lights and deep shadows in sharp relief, to a blotchy, watercolor wash. The puddled streets reflecting the city neon melt into a haze. The tall, stretching buildings that shoot into the skyline tilt and fuzz at the edges. And all the lights, from windows and signs and billboards and street lamps, streak when the world sways and swims.
Riku blinks, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and tries to get his vision back under control. He waits, breathing slow, until everything steadies out again and returns to the sharp, modern city he’s come to know. Giving a tired sigh, he figures that’s a sign as good as any that it’s time to take a break. A headache has been slowly building up, starting first as a nagging little twinge, then blooming full and furious at his temples. He’s sore down to his bones, too, through muscle and tendon and cartilage. And what had started as a brisk pace through the streets slowed and slowed until now, where’s hardly doing more than dragging himself along, forcing step after step.
In short, he’s exhausted. And while he wants to keep looking, wants it so bad his heart burns, he’s no use to Sora passed out in an alley somewhere. That will only set him farther back in his efforts.
Resigned, he takes a weary glance around. He’s since moved out of the main streets of the city, away from the bustling epicenter. You could hardly tell it was night there with how bright the streets were and how many people were wandering about. But down meandering side streets, things are significantly quieter. Only some of the shops and restaurants he passes have their windows lit up, glowing warmly. And while he still trudges past people every now and again, the crowds are thin and sparse. There’s less of the feeling of a city that never sleeps and more so of one on its last legs before turning in for the night. It’s just the stragglers still up and about.
Coffee.
If he wants to keep going, that’s his best bet. It’s not much of a replacement for real sleep, but Riku doesn’t get much of that anymore, even when he tries. And there’s only so much exhausted staring up at unfamiliar ceilings that he can do before he tears his hair out. Better to keep busy. Better to keep moving. And if the caffeine can do that, keep him up and awake and on his feet, he’ll gladly take it. So, he searches the periodic glowing windows for a coffee shop still open. He passes a few by, too, because there are people lingering inside, lines at the register. And with his head pounding the way it is, not to mention the weary haze clouding his mind, he’s really not in the mood to deal with excess people. Just somewhere quiet and empty where he can caffeinate himself enough to stay alive would be best.
Aimlessly ducking down alleys and side streets, Riku loses himself through the twists and turns. Not that he’s ever had all that good a grip on navigating the more central areas anyway, but now he’s definitely clueless about where he is. But, eventually, he finds a little coffee shop tucked in an out of the way corner, and from a cursory glance through the window, it looks blessedly quiet inside. With a tired sigh, he leans into the door to push it open and steps inside. A bell chimes overhead as the door swings shut behind him, and his vision blurs a little again when he searches for the menu. It almost worries him how much of a regular occurrence that has become. He doesn’t even really think twice about it anymore, when the world swims before his eyes and his head goes light and dizzy. Absently, he wishes sleep were easier.
In short order, he picks something more or less at random off the menu, but when he goes to head up to the counter and order, he doesn’t even make it so much as a step. His heart lurches hard behind his ribs, breath hitching in his throat. In an instant, nerves and shock are crackling through him, and it takes all he has to stand still and deliberately blink to banish away the illusion. He’s done this before, seen Sora in places he shouldn’t, only for the spell to break, the echo of a familiar face turning to a stranger once again.
But there’s no fading this time, no nosedive down from the hope of having finally found Sora. Because no matter how many times he blinks or swallows down unsteady breaths, it’s still him, standing at the register and doodling absently on the side of a plastic cup. There’s no illusion, no trick, and unless sleep deprivation has a cruel sense of humor, making him see this of all things when it isn’t really there, then it’s real. Sora’s real and here and safe and so much emotion swells in Riku’s chest that he feels like he’ll burst with it.
He tries not to get his hopes up, really tries, but they’re already soaring and he can’t bring them back down. “Sora?” he asks, fragile and in disbelief, breaking the quiet settled in the little coffee shop.
Then Sora looks up from his doodling, searches out Riku, and those eyes—they’re as warm as Riku remembers, startlingly blue and intense, and he feels a little like drowning.
There’s a moment of bated breath. Of desperate longing and hearts reaching out.
The cup and marker clatter to the floor. It seems deafeningly loud in the silence and all at once, everything explodes into motion and life and color. All it takes is one word, one spark of recognition.
“Riku!”
Suddenly, he doesn’t care about politeness or rules or order. Riku crosses the short span between them as fast as he can manage and vaults over the counter. Jumping down on the other side, he all but throws himself onto Sora, holding so, so tight. Arms wrap around his back too, the hug returned just as fiercely as it was given.
His heart beats strong in his chest, still fast with shock and awe. And when Riku breathes, settles, he finds, with his nose buried in Sora’s hair, that even if the scent of salt and sand and sunshine is gone, Sora still smells like home. He feels like home, pulled close to Riku’s chest. Warm, solid, real. Heart beating in time with the pound of Riku’s own pulse.
Relief and longing and overwhelm crash into Riku like a tidal wave to the chest. All that time, endlessly searching, he’d tried to fight back the loneliness. He’d tried to swallow down the missing Sora until he could convince himself it wasn’t eating him alive. If he just kept moving, kept working, kept searching, he could keep the darkness and ache at bay. But now that he’s finally stopped, now that he’s finally made it all the way here—to where Sora is—all the feelings he’d been running from catch up and tear in with full force.
Before he knows it, he’s all snot and tears, clinging to Sora the same as a drowning man clings to a life ring. The world fades out and blurs away behind a wash of tears pooling in his eyes, spilling. Harsh, ugly sobs turn harsher when Sora reaches up to card a hand through his hair, starting to grow long again; he can’t even remember the last time he brushed it, much less cut it.
Everything in him aches raw and intense with the loss he tried not to let himself feel. Glows light and warm with the relief of having his precious person, his world to protect, back with him again. And he cries harder than he can ever remember while Sora—thank god for him—smooths over his hair and murmurs everything and nothing against Riku’s ear.
“I looked for you,” Riku chokes out when the sobs finally start to calm enough that he can find his voice again. It’s weak and watery, clogged with emotion, but it rings clear enough in the quiet coffee shop. “I looked everywhere for you.”
Sora nudges him back, just a little, and while Riku’s reluctant to let go, he does, if only so he can really look at Sora. See what a year apart has changed—his hair a little longer, his frame a little taller—and what it hasn’t. His smile, wide and bright and warm, fills Riku’s heart the same it always has.
“And you found me,” Sora says, sounding grateful and relieved all at once. He grins, eyes a little watery around the edges, and leans in close until he can press his forehead to Riku’s.
Breathing him in, soaking in the moment, Riku gives a weak chuckle, still holding tight to Sora’s shoulder. “You didn’t make it easy,” he says.
Sora draws back and laughs a little, and it feels so comfortable, so warm, to be back with him again. Like they were never apart. Everything slots right back into place. To Riku, it feels like his heart is whole again. No doubt, Sora is the piece he’s always chasing, and he’ll never stop the search, no matter what trouble Sora gets himself into. Because he’s worth it.
“It’s a good thing you’re so stubborn then,” Sora says.
He starts to say something else, Riku’s sure, but he doesn’t hear it. For the first time since Sora disappeared, he can finally just relax. And when the adrenaline and joy and relief start to wind down and wear away, it hits him just how utterly exhausted he is. The world starts to tip and blur again, Sora’s words fading out to something muffled and distant, underwater. He blinks, trying to clear his vision, clear his head, but the next time he opens his eyes, everything’s shifted. Sora’s holding him close, holding him up with arms looped tight around his back when his own legs feel like crumbling out from under him. And Sora’s face, still flush with warmth and happiness, is a little creased with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and it almost makes Riku want to laugh. Sora’s the one who disappeared from the world. He’s the one who sacrificed everything for him, for all of them. And now he’s asking if Riku is okay.
“I’m just tired,” he assures, doing his best to get his legs more solidly back under him.
That seems to ease most of Sora’s concern, and he brightens right back up. “I’m sure I can close up early tonight. Business was slow anyway. Then I can take you back to my apartment and we can catch up and you can get some sleep.”
Once Riku’s sure he won’t fall on his face without Sora’s arms holding him up, he eases back. Without wasting a second, Sora busies himself with cleaning up the shop, sorting through the register, and getting everything ready to close. Still a little awed, Riku watches him work, and listens, because once they’re apart, he hardly stops talking.
“Oh yeah, I made a new friend when I first got here, and she let me stay with her. I’ll have to introduce you. Strelizia’s really cool! You know…” he says, carrying on about this and that. Eventually, Riku stops really listening the words, but just hearing Sora’s voice is everything he’d been hoping for and dreaming of for the past year. He’d missed this, the idle chatter and bright eyes, with every bone in his body. And getting it back is the sweetest thing he could ever ask for.
Eventually, Sora finishes with his work and locks up. And when they head through the strange, bustling city, they do it hand in hand, together again at last.