Prelude to Ruin

It was a city in chaos.

As he stood upon his rooftop precipice he could take in all of the pandemonium with idle survey, his eyes trained for the tell-tale signs of a black coat. Yet amongst those soldiers and civilians who struggled below he did not see much else beyond splashes of vibrant color, and a single figure in black but his ridiculous hat ruled him out before further investigation was needed.

In the center of the town square before the great cathedral, they had gathered as that man set alight a bonfire, a woman nearly swept up in the arms of flame. The blaze had licked at her heels as thick smoke clouded sickly in the air, not unlike the many houses in Paris that burned and smoldered in brilliant pyres intermittently along various streets.

The city burned, and as it did, ash and soot rose in the air, stifling as the sun would set in a reddened sky. Admittedly at the elevation it did tighten his chest, but he stubbornly remained in his vigil, watching the confusion and ruin with the same stoicism he often portrayed.

What he thought chaos only escalated as someone swung down from that massive building and rescued the woman, the man in black and his goons rushing to go after her. As a beam plummeted to the cobblestone streets below with a loud crash, they were only startled for moments before it became an implement to knock the doors in, thud resonating over the din as citizens brawled with soldiers in the streets.

It was the sort of thing that resulted from the presence of a Nobody; they brought ruin to the worlds they touched. Perhaps it was why they inhabited a world that didn’t exist, but it was something he had pondered before and would again, when he was not watching for one of the Organization to appear.

A gust of wind caught his cloak and tugged at silver tresses, toying with him and his blindfold, just too hot for comfort as ash and soot lofted further into the air. The flames were stoked as more objects rained on the streets below from that great cathedral, their source unknown as he stepped to the far end of the rooftop to gain a better view.

They had to be around somewhere, admiring their handiwork, as always.

“It’s what happens to anything a Nobody touches…” He reminded himself. It was something he knew he should have taken to heart, long before. Often he tried to drive that message into his mind, into his heart, though what good it did, he was never too certain.

Tempted to prowl he paced along the edge of the rooftop, his attention divided between rising chaos below and the looming structure that stood beyond that calamity, yet lent to it. Someone up there was stoking the flames even if it were with the intention of helping.

And as the man with the idiotic hat vanished into the gash hacked into the heavy cathedral doors, he could only speculate the reasons, eyes trained on that opening for several moments. His attention was forced elsewhere as he looked again, half ready to give up.

Perhaps the Nobody who had caused all this was gone already.

The sudden flicker of movement high above the crowd caught his attention instantly, masked gaze locked on the figure that darted along the open arches and narrow spaces between massive bells. Within the cathedral and yet not inside, the small sable-cloaked form moved around obstacles with a fluidity that to most would suggest familiarity, but the blindfolded youth doubted that.

He was quick to pursue, his path across rooftops made in reckless haste as he got near enough to make jumps up the building, grateful for that ability where he would otherwise have had to clamber. From one gargoyle to another he’d leapt, perched between outstretched demonic wings and then on a snarling head, stone upon stone before he reached the walkway that dark figure had crossed some short instances before.

In his rush he’d nearly forgotten to breathe. He paused for several moments to allow his breath to catch up before he looked around, silver hair whipped about in the hot breeze as the wind tugged at his blindfold, much as black gloved hands had in the past.

Once his breath had caught up with him he was again searching for a sign of the one he’d seen, gaze darting along either end of the narrow walkway on which he stood, masked by the cloth that obscured his eyes.

As the din escalated in pitch suddenly he cast a glance over the raised edges of the stone path, unsurprised as dusks flitted about amongst the struggling soldiers and civilians, the chaos escalating further. Those people foreign to such entities had no way of slaying them, no way of defending themselves as they scrambled about so far beyond his reach.

Without a keyblade, dusks were impossible to fell.

His thoughts were again distracted as something whirred past his head, cleaving into solid stone as he slid aside, narrowly avoiding one of the weapons previously in his thoughts. The black, ominous form of Oblivion was not unfamiliar to him, though he glanced over his shoulder before he bothered to reclaim it.

The weapon was indicative enough of who to expect, and surely enough Roxas stood there with Oathkeeper still in hand, white-silver catching the marred red of the sky. His hand closed around the blackened hilt of the keyblade that had been tossed to him, and that too was nothing new.

“Every time a Nobody touches something, there’s only ruin.” Riku repeated earlier thoughts, once more trying to cement them into his mind, to convince himself that he did not want or need the Nobody. His task was to help Sora awaken. He owed his best friend everything, and he couldn’t forget that he had been a traitor to someone who had never hurt him.

Yet he was taking so long to do what DiZ had told him. And he knew why that was.

“No, this is what happens when hearts succumb to darkness.” The blond countered, sounding almost amused as he spoke. “You’re the expert on that, aren’t you, Ri-ku~?”

Roxas was well aware when he was pushing buttons. He’d made a fine sport of it so far, and the blindfolded youth could tell himself that a thousand times and it still resulted in the same thing, teeth clenched as his grip tightened on the keyblade.

Before he even turned to face the blond fully he was already darting away, footfalls impossibly quick as he initiated a game of tag so often played. There was no intention of escape, only the given desire for a chase. And Riku knew what to expect as he started after the Nobody, pushing himself to be as quick as he could, on the chance that Roxas did plan to elude him.

His footfalls sounded heavy and loud in comparison to the blonde’s, slow as he struggled to meet a pace that was entirely inhuman. But he had to manage somehow, had to match pace.

Clumsy in his haste as the walkway came to an end he found himself instead surrounded by bells of varying massive nature, ropes hung and draped and scattered on the floor haphazardly. The ordered chaos nearly made him lose sight of the Nobody, heart hammering within his chest as he glances around in a near desperate nature.

How could he have lost track of him so easily?

There were numerous occasions when he found himself unable to locate Roxas, his glances straying over his surroundings while his body tried to calm itself, his heart loud and prominent. And he would wonder whether the other truly tired at all or if his body became fatigued, or not at all.

Such reflections never lasted long, a trend unbroken as he spotted a black form ducking under one of the behemoth bells. He speculated only a moment, the possibility one he couldn’t deny as he followed as swiftly as he could, slipping beneath the bell himself only to find that Roxas’ coat had been abandoned there.

Which meant he’d been fooled, and when dealing with someone like XIII it was never good news.

Unsure what to expect, Riku’s immediate impulse was to get out of what appeared to be a trap, but he hadn’t taken one step toward doing so before he was immediately surrounded by loud resonance. His hands forfeit the keyblade as they clapped over his ears, the sound near unbearable as the confining space of the bell hummed loudly, picking up again when it had started to still once more.

Were it not for his hands he knew he may have been deafened, eyes narrowed on a familiar pair of legs as he kept his ears covered, however having lost his weapon in the process.

He remained still for long instances, deliberating a choice of action for what seemed far too long before he crept nearer the Nobody, ducked and slammed into his legs, effectively knocking the other youth off balance.

Though it did have the side effect of leaving them a tangle of limbs.

Riku wasted no time in summoning his Soul Eater, turning it about with a flick of his wrist… But unable to point it at Roxas’ throat as the Nobody caught his face between his hands and kissed him fiercely. It left the silver-haired male bereft of any clue as to what he should do, eyes wide as he openly gawked at the blond.

As he found himself not fighting back, not shoving the other away, but instead met that fervor with his own.

While he knew it was wrong it had yet to stop him, hadn’t ever stopped him, despite the fact that he knew it made him a traitor again. He was betraying Sora anew and he knew it, hated it. His best friend might only wake if his Nobody rejoined him, yet he found it wasn’t so simple.

He’d wanted to keep Roxas. It was something he felt had been true the first moment they’d met, but hadn’t understood until they had first kissed, and that was when he knew he wanted the blond. Riku wanted him as he had never wanted anyone but it was betrayal.

The pain in his arm was all too real as the smaller youth gripped harshly, nails biting into skin when they parted for air, blue eyes narrowed up at him.

“You’re thinking about him.” He stated flatly, able so easily to present the air of irritation. How he knew such things, Riku doubted he would ever understand, impassive as a gloved hand planted itself against his heart. “Your darkness betrayed him, and I’m proof. Don’t pretend you’ll redeem yourself.”

Where he had started to object, he found no words, lips moving without the accompaniment of sound. He simply ceased after a moment, head bowed against Roxas’ shoulder before he felt the other stir with the intended need to get up.

He would’ve preferred to remain where he was, that blackness around him. If he could think of nothing at all it would be easier.

Riku wanted two things, but he could only have one.

+++

It was with a slow nature that Riku awoke, blindfold lost somewhere in his sleep as he stared blindly at the dark ceiling above him. His bedsheets were a rumpled mess, pooling at his hips to leave his torso bared to the chill of night. Waking that way hadn’t been unusual, nor the wild thumping of his heart.

Even if the dream did not end in some struggle, the memory of it left his heart agitated all the same.

He watched the darkness above him listlessly, entirely still but for his breathing as he weighed his considerations. As always he dreamed of times when he’d chased Roxas through worlds, yet no matter how many times he may have caught the Nobody he’d never taken the step further to bring him to DiZ, had never done what he was meant to do.

Riku understood that he needed to collect the blond in order to awaken Sora. He knew even though his memories were askew that the brunet had been his best friend, had wanted to save him from the darkness he’d steeped himself in.

A darkness he had used to try and destroy someone who had been nothing but a friend to him. For all that he was and all that he’d done, he owed Sora. There were too many reasons that he should have already done anything and everything it took to be certain his friend would wake fully intact.

But he had floundered in that regard. He was failing and he knew why.

Such reflections weren’t uncommon in the dead of night, reviewing the fact that he had simply wanted Roxas despite all reason. It made it impossible to choose and he didn’t think there was a right answer to be had. Erasing the Nobody for his best friend was wrong, and betraying his best friend for someone who could not love him back was equally so.

“Maybe…I can’t redeem myself…” He breathed, convinced he was entirely alone before he shifted, eyes accustom to sight in the dark widening as he caught sight of a familiar blond curled up beside him.

When Roxas had ventured into his shabby little apartment, Riku hadn’t any idea, the black-coated form so near him he didn’t know how he’d failed to notice. Beyond that he was stunned that the blond was sleeping beside him, either intentionally or not.

Yet it wasn’t the presence that struck him most.

It was the fact that in Roxas’ sable-clad hand, he held a paopu fruit.

The sight of that familiar object was nothing short of bewildering as he blinked in his genuine confusion, fingers brushing over the fuzz on the yellow skin before withdrawing as though scalded. Somehow Roxas had remembered what a paopu was, and where to get one.

And it seemed the blond wanted to give one to him.

He wanted to smile and he wanted to cry, he wanted to be happy someone wanted him for what he was and he wanted to hate himself for it. The heels of Riku’s palms pressed against his closed eyes as he lay there in silence, wishing he wasn’t where he was.

Wishing that it wasn’t so selfish to want both, and that he didn’t have to burn no matter which decision he made in the end.