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It was a unique sense of terror, to feel like you’re being hunted but have nowhere to run.
The glass platform on which Riku stood dropped down into an abyss along the edges, no possible escape routes. No matter which direction he faced, he could feel something looming over his shoulder, solid enough for its breath to itch at his skin, but gone whenever he spun around to face it. If this was the price he had to pay for his mistakes, he had thought during his waking hours, it seemed like a pretty fair trade. Asleep, though, and trapped under the weight of it for hours, night after night since he had fought Roxas, he felt a little less rational about it. He felt scared.
He would spend hours like this, aware of every minute that passed, body locked in the sensation of fight or flight. It always ended the same way, and waiting for it every night left his stomach turning with uneasy anticipation. The sensation of being watched and followed prickled, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. If he ever let his guard down, then the whispers would start, hissing against the shell of his ear of things he couldn’t quite make out, like a language he didn’t know, in the hazy, foreign way dreams often are. He recognized the voice, though. Ansem would be haunting him for the rest of his life, however long that was, ready and waiting and patient like a panther in the dark.
And, for a while, he didn’t think it would be that long. Suffering when you’re on something of a suicide mission is expected, isn’t it? He was going to fix things, he was going to make sure Sora and Kairi were safe and together, and then he had planned to fade away, like he was pretty sure he was supposed to before Castle Oblivion anyway. Those plans were chucked out the window, though, as Kairi ran and grabbed him by the hand when he tried to slip away, pulling as if she could physically stop him if she tried hard enough, and Riku couldn’t say no, could never say no to her. He only had once, and it had gotten them into this whole mess.
The memory grounded him, a reminder that he was just dreaming. Somehow, the entire ordeal was over, and they were home. The fact that the nightmares apparently hadn’t let up even though he was back in his own body was unsettling, but he would take it one night at a time. He let out a long, slow breath, easing his racing heart, and sat down on the platform. Nothing to do to pass the time while ignoring the foreboding sense of doom except scrutinize the scenery, despite the fact that he already had often enough to be able to draw it from memory if he wanted. There was glass under him, lit from below. He spread his hand out, palm flat on the surface so that the tips of his fingers reached into the circles that showed his friends. It had hurt, before, to see them here — here, in the very representation of his heart, because surely that must be where he was. Too damaged to dream properly anymore, just waiting out his sleeping hours with a shallow reminder of what he had lost. He was home now, though, asleep in the treehouse, the three of them piled together like children, he just had to remember that.
It was just the way dreams were, though, that eventually he forgot he was dreaming. The quiet respite where he had taken a moment to trace the curve of Kairi’s smile with a curious fingertip faded until he forgot where he was again, or why he was there, stuck with a predatory darkness at his back that he couldn’t catch by looking over his shoulder. He stood back up on legs that threatened to give out on him, twisting around to find the source of the low whispers around his periphery. It was easy to give into the fear when it was designed to slip under his ribs at his most vulnerable. His heart fluttered high in his throat, fast and shallow, his lungs quick to match until it left him lightheaded.
The glass cracked.
This was how it always ended, but it still managed to sneak up on him every night without fail. He stepped away from the growing spider web of cracks branching out from the center, backing up right into the feeling of being watched that stayed ever-present behind him. Hands dug into his shoulders, nails as sharp and piercing as the sensation of panic that overtook him, and when the platform shattered below him they kept him suspended, yanking hard like one would on a puppet’s strings. Ansem’s voice, clear as it ever was, right behind him, reminding Riku that—
He jolted awake with a gasp, squirming as a shudder rolled through his body. He covered his face with his hands, swallowing around the lump of a racing heartbeat, and clenched his teeth together when he found his eyes and cheeks wet. Waking up crying still felt humiliating. The blankets rustled against one another as Riku rolled over onto his side, away from Sora and Kairi.
It must have still been the middle of the night. His friends were breathing slowly, almost in time with the foamy drag of the tide, but there were no other sounds to lull him back to sleep.
He needed some fresh air.
Riku scrubbed at his tired eyes until they were dry as he snuck out of the treehouse. It was still second-nature to avoid the creakiest planks of wood, so he was as close to silent as he could possibly be. His wrist felt stiffer than usual, so he gave it a shake to loosen it up. The joint cracked in a troubling way, and he knew he would have to deal with it sooner or later.
The pounding in his heart was intense enough that it left him trembling on shaky feet, so he didn’t get too far before he decided to settle down. The dock had shrunk, smaller than it used to be as he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins, folding himself in until he was safe and closed off. He let out an exhale that he didn’t realize he was holding hostage, and another deep breath in and out of familiar coastal air lightened the weight on his lungs even more. He would just have to get used to running on less sleep.
“Is something wrong? What happened?” Riku startled at Kairi’s voice, getting seawater on his jeans when one bare foot slipped off the edge of the dock as he scrambled back around. She was hugging her arms tight around herself despite the stagnant warmth of the night. He didn't need her worrying that there was any threat, though, so he was cornered into confessing what had him awake at such a late hour.
“I just… have trouble sleeping nowadays,” he admitted, grinding his teeth against a yawn that put pressure on his jaw. Kairi narrowed her eyes in the moonlight, just enough for Riku to feel like he couldn’t hide anything from her.
“Nightmares?” Kairi guessed, walking towards him until they could sit side by side on the dock. She covered his hand with hers, but didn't hold it.
Riku nodded instead of voicing an answer.
“Me, too,” she told him, and in response his imagination supplied snapshots of all the things they had been through for her to have nightmares about. Things he couldn’t protect her from, things he had caused. His stomach flipped, acidic and volatile. The nightmares he had were punishment, surely.
“Not like these,” he said, looking out at the dark expanse of the ocean with a quiet bitterness, and was glad that she didn’t push him to explain further. How could they even be explained? There wasn’t a frame of reference she could use to understand what he had gone through, and he was grateful for that. The last thing he would want is for either of them to have to deal with this.
She must have read between the lines, inching closer until her head rested on his shoulder and their bodies connected all the way down to the knees.
“No, not like that,” Kairi agreed. They listened to the tide together for the measure of a few strained heartbeats.
“You know what else I have, though? More often than any of the nightmares?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him and waiting until he tilted his chin down to look at her before continuing: “Plenty of dreams where I'm safe in your arms again. I always know nothing bad can happen to me there.”
The moon was full, flat and pale, throwing back enough starlight to illuminate her face, the delicate angle of her upturned eyebrows and the curve of her concerned frown. The spilled ink of her eyes in the dark pierced right through him, just like they did when they were first reunited.
He was engulfed by thoughts of kissing her, but that would only ruin everything. It wouldn’t be right, not like this. Hopefully she couldn’t tell, and he resisted every urge to look down at her lips.
Kairi stood up, holding her hand out to help him, and it echoed alongside the memory of Sora doing the same on a far off shore. They both refused to leave him behind, as much as he was sure it was all he deserved. Her outstretched fingers wiggled, grabbing his attention.
“Come back with me,” she insisted, and Riku was shocked by how firm she could be while still being so gentle. Her palm was soft and warm against his when he took her hand, and he returned her affectionate squeeze after a moment’s hesitation. It was silent as they headed back up, no words quite right to fill in the gap.
They hadn’t even made it off the play island yet, so there was no chance for them to change into pajamas. All three of them were content with just removing their top layer to sleep, Sora's cropped jacket and Kairi’s unzipped dress and Riku’s outer vest piled together in the corner. The white slip she was left in almost made it seem like he was looking at a ghost.
Riku let her lead, and she arranged them both back down onto the covers before pulling him close. Kairi cradled his cheeks between her palms, searching his face for something. He found himself having to stubbornly avoid looking down at her mouth again.
“What?” he asked as she traced what he was sure must have been heavy shadows under his eyes.
“You look haunted,” she said, a soft enough whisper to not disturb Sora. She was so close, close enough to count every light brown freckle dashed across her cheeks.
Riku let out a breath through his nose, something that might have passed as a sad excuse for a laugh under different circumstances. “I might be,” he replied, closing his eyes to her soothing touches.
The reluctant, hitching sound of Kairi smothering a sob was sharper than shattered glass, and he reopened his eyes when she pulled her hands away to hastily swipe at her tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, and it came out a hiss, “I just, you — he — Riku.” He watched as she bit down hard on her lower lip, fighting for a shred of composure. “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
“It wasn’t… I mean, it could have been worse,” he mumbled, wishing to just be able to sweep it all under the rug.
“No, don’t you dare sugarcoat it for my sake. What happened was horrible, and violating, and nobody was there to protect you from it.”
“I don’t need pr—”
“Neither did I!” she interrupted. “But you still did. Because you’re my friend. Can’t you see how we would feel the same about you?” Even in the dark, he could make out the expression on her face, pinched with grief.
“They’re only dreams now, Kairi,” he whispered, focusing on a gilded stripe of moonlight across her neck instead of meeting her eyes. “It’s over.”
Kairi sniffed, wet and loud, and for a moment Riku was terrified Sora would wake up, too, but the constant drone of the gummi ship’s engine must have made him an even heavier sleeper than when they were kids. He felt raw and vulnerable enough just letting Kairi in this much, still raw and vulnerable to begin with from the conversation he and Sora had along the dark margin; he couldn’t deal with both of them comforting him at once.
“It’s still not fair,” she said, voice fragile. “You shouldn’t have to suffer anymore. We’re home.”
Riku blinked through a thin haze of tears that quickly gathered in his eyes, the words having a stronger impact than he had expected. Her movements were gentle as she pulled them back together, looping her hands around his waist. Her wet cheek rested against his own as she squeezed her arms around him, and he couldn't help but melt into the embrace.
He never imagined he would get to have this again.
Kairi eventually started to fidget, trying to find a more comfortable position. He hesitantly allowed her to turn him around, worried that even the feeling of her breath against the back of his neck might be too much. She was warm, though, a comfortable presence wrapped around him, keeping him safe, and it was nothing like the nightmares.
“Your hair has gotten so long,” she observed, blowing a few tickling strands away from her mouth. He replied with a small sound of complaint; forcing a brush through the rough ends of it was becoming more of a chore than he cared for.
“Do you not like it like this? You could always cut it. I can help, but I can’t promise I won’t mess it up,” she giggled quietly, and Riku felt a real smile tug at the corner of his mouth.
“Might have to take you up on that just to see what it would look like,” he said with a yawn, settling deeper into her embrace as his body finally started to relax.
Maybe the protection of her arms would work as well for him as his had for her.