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The Long Weekend Away	By : neonabsinthe Category: Kingdom Hearts > Slash/Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3950 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Warnings: AU. Fairly OOC and cliché (with Rich Popular Riku and Shy Sora. But hopefully the actual storyline is less cliché). A lotta swearing and fluff alert and drug use; adult situations in later chapters.
Pairings: Riku x Sora, onesided Riku x Kairi. Other pairings revealed as story progresses.
A/N: Sorry for this filler chapter. I’m probably loosing readers by dragging out everything so much – I swear I just don’t know how to cut out unnecessary scenes.
So I’ve started writing Part II (which is about the missing year and a half) alongside of Part I and I’m all excited now. Can’t wait till I get to post that.

The Long Weekend Away
By: neon-absinthe

-- PART I: Chapter 8 – Friday Night Lights --

“–and then I realised I completely forgot to set the timer but it was way too late by then.”
Hayner was zealously recounting to Sora the story of why his failed attempt at making pancakes for his girlfriend ended up with his new strange semi-Mohawk haircut.
“So I had to run all the way back to the kitchen before I accidentally burned down my girlfriend’s house with her still inside, you know?” his hands flailed wildly.
“Anyway. I get back to the kitchen, and I swear, the entire pan was alight like a mini bonfire. The flames were seriously this tall,” he exaggeratedly gestured with his hands the height of a small child or a fully grown dwarf.
“So I grab a cup of water and throw it onto the pan, and BOOM!” He slammed his hands down onto their table, for effect. Sora jumped from surprise while everyone else in the class turned around to stare.
“The whole thing explodes like a steam bomb and all it did was almost give me steam burns. So then I grab a tea-towel and started to beat the shit out of the flames, but my hand accidentally catches the handle and the whole pan flipped right on top of me! Almost burned my face off! The fire bits thankfully missed my head, but then I turn around, and there’s ash and black pancake bits everywhere. Some of it was still burning away on the floor!”
Sora laughed at the thought.
“And on top of that, the tea-towel had caught on fire! It was really hot, so I threw it back onto the stove, but that only made the flame grow bigger. But then I remembered that pouring sand on a flame would douse it so I grabbed the salt and poured the entire bottle onto the fire. Thank god it worked. But the bad thing was...well it’s a little embarrassing…” he suddenly turned pink.
“You’ve already built it up,” Sora reminded.
“Oh, alright,” Hayner gave in, not missing his chance to boast. “But don’t laugh…I may have accidentally set my hair on fire.”
Sora just looked at him. Then burst out laughing.
“Hey!” the dirty-blond looked hurt. “You promised.”
Still chuckling, Sora tried to reign in the giggles. “Sorry. Please continue.”
Hayner was sulking. “Fine,” he agreed. “But no more laughter.”
The brunet nodded. But his face was anything but serious. “So, how long was your hair before?”
Hayner threw him a dirty look. And then he grinned. “You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you tease so much.”
And on cue, Sora flushed, realising just how much he must have grow lax on his self-vigilance, exposing himself to someone he barely knew. Stupid.
“So anyway,” Hayner’s short attention span barely saw the twitch in the corner of Sora’s lips. “There I was standing nude in the kitchen wearing only my apron – which was now the colour of coal, mind you – the stainless steel pan was burnt to a crisp on a slightly burnt floor, and this massive chunk of my hair completely fried off, I turn around and what do I see? My girlfriend standing right there looking at me weird. Olette gives this loud sniff and was like, “Something smells burnt,” as if it wasn’t obvious. And then she’s all like, “What the hell are you doing, Hayner?” and I all I could do was stand there going, “Ummm….making pancakes?”. And before she gets out of her state of shock and gets angry (and I’m talking really really angry), she gives me this look. Like a really weird look. Like a “you’re an idiot, why the hell do I know you” look. Which I so am! Urgh!”
Hayner slumped down dramatically in his chair.
“And all I wanted to do was to surprise my girlfriend by making her some breakfast. But instead, I burn half my hair off and I’m completely banned from her house. And now, I’m stuck with this…weird thing until it grows back,” he gestures to his floppy hair, where one side was significantly shorter than the rest and the other side was cut to imitate it.
“It is a bit…uneven,” Sora bit his lips to keep his tone neutral and amusement-free.
“I realise,” Hayner rolled his eyes, pulling a face. “Do I look like I’m made of money to you? Scholarship, man,” he mumbled dryly into his sleeve, now slouched over the table.
“But I thought pancakes were simple to make, aren’t they?” Sora pondered aloud with amusement. He had seen Riku make them a few times, and it seemed relatively simple. But then everything seemed easy to Riku.
“Well how was I suppose to know the batter would cook so quickly. Otherwise I wouldn’t have left it unattended for so long,” the other teen cried. “Girls. Completely and utterly unreasonable.”
Sora really couldn’t see anything unreasonable about Hayner’s girlfriend’s reaction to him half burning down her kitchen.
“So anyway,” Hayner glanced sideways at him, watching him add more stokes to his canvas. “Any relationship troubles yourself?”
Sora frowned. He just had to ask. Sora was already sick of thinking about it.
“Um…no.”
“Oh,” Hayner said, not really caring either way. “It just seemed like that’s usually what broody people contemplate about.”
Sora’s brows drew up together in a curious look. “I’m a ‘broody’ person?”
Hayner just looked at him out of the side of his eye, and let out an snort. “Oh yeah,” he affirmed.
Sora just went back to his painting. Even if he told Hayner anything, it’s not like the blond boy would understand. After all, what would he know about all the things that Sora has been through, and was now facing? And even if he did, it’s not like Sora could tell him anything. It was a lose-lose situation.
But his motor functions never seemed to listen to his unflinching logic. His mouth opened on its own volition, and his tongue formed words without his permission.
“Well,” he played with the word, delaying the eventual confession. “There is someone I know who’s got some problems. Not me,” he quickly added.
Hayner paused in his own art and looked at the brunet, giving him a knowing smile. “Oh, I see. Someone you know huh? Well what’s troubling this other anonymous person?”
Sora didn’t even seem to realise that Hayner had caught onto his game. And if he did, he didn’t show it.
“Well. He’s in a relationship with this person. They get along really well and have lots of good times together, but lately, he realised that he just doesn’t seem to fit in with the other person’s life or friends. He feels like an outcast among them.”
The dirty-blond shrugged. “Everyone feels like an outcast in a relationship every once in a while. It’s suicide to try to know everything about the other person’s life…You tell your friend,” he quickly added with a decisive nod, an overly serious expression on his face.
Sora looked pensive. “There’s also this other thing.”
“Shoot. It’s what Dr. Hayner, the love guru, is here for.”
Sora spared him a weird look before continuing. “Well my friend kind of had a talk with a good friend of the person he’s in the relationship with. And this other friend said that he should back out of the relationship because he would only get hurt in the end.”
“Uh..huh…”
“And I–…my friend keeps having stupid unfounded jealous thoughts about how close this friend is with the person he’s going out with. They’re always together and sometimes he feels left out. Which is completely unfounded because they’re best friends, see.”
“You know what I think?”
Sora turned immediately and watched Hayner with the utmost attention.
“I think you should just tell this other ‘friend’ to shove his fucking ego up his ass,” he actually looked a little angry. “Who cares if they’re best friends? Purposely breaking up your best friend’s relationship, particularly if there’s nothing really wrong with it, is more than a shitty thing to do. If any of Olette’s friends tried to break us up by tell her I’m not worth it, I’d bloody,” he made a wild gesture of smashing something on his knee, hazel eyes flashing.
“Well,” the croppy-haired blond added as an after thought, pulling a sheepish face. “not the girls, of course. It’s wrong to hit girls. Anyway,” his angry look was back. “What you should do, Sora, is tell this loser ‘friend’,” he put his fingers in quotation marks, “to get lost and go find himself his own goddamn girl.”
“It’s not me! It’s for my friend!” Sora cried immediately, paint brush spinning through the air in his flailing grasp it almost drew zigzags on Hayner’s face. “I swear!”
He felt instantly bad for lying.
Hayner’s knowing smirk was also giving him the creeps.
Sora’s shoulders drooped in defeat, andaHayner justSoraSo he said in a little voice, “Is it really that obvious?”
Hayner nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah. Standard tactic in Brooding 101. Divert attention with ‘the friend’.
“Maybe,” Sora thought the advice over. “But it’s not as simple as that.”
“Pft,” the other teen waved him off, “It’s never as complicated as you think–”
Oh what he didn’t know about Sora’s predicament…
“–but seriously. Tell this bastard where to shove it and not steal other people’s girlfriends.”
Sora didn’t bother correcting his misconception of the genders of the characters, considering the less than warm welcome they had received after Riku came clean.
“Hmm,” he made a noncommittal noise, not looking forward to either possibilities of warning Kairi off or just pretending everything was perfectly fine.
He delicately painted two red lines onto his painting. Long, jagged, and harsh crimson marks clawing through the canvas.
“So,” Hayner said, carelessly colouring in a mess of his painting, “You going to the blitzball game Friday night?”

--

Bright lights flooded the stadium, illuminating every crevice so that not a single shadow would be able to thrive unnoticed. The floors had been polished to such a gleam, it looked to be coated with a thin sheet of ice. Dominating the stadium was a giant sphere of water, encased by a strong invisible force-field to retain its shape and contents. Cocooning the dome in were rows and rows of bleachers extended from the walls, reminiscent of the rigid structures lining the inner walls of a beehive. It was designed in such a way so that every spectator was guaranteed a seat offering only the best and most unobstructed view of the court as possible.
In his head, Riku could see the stadium filled with spectators, donned only in Auroch’s colours, cheering on their team, cheering for him. It felt like a lifetime ago since he was last in this same stadium. Except he was the captain then, greeting their thunderous admirers, and not just another substitute for more valuable players.
But in the present day, those roaring cheers, the rhythm of drums and the chants of the cheerleaders no longer excited him to the same degree. But rather, from his vantage point on the sidelines, it depressed him. Those encouragements weren’t for him. No one cheered for deserters.
His felt a sharp jab on his shoulder as someone roughly collided with him from behind. “Sidelining it, Samuel?” Tarzan mocked as he walked past.
“Otherwise he’d screw up, wouldn’t he?” a tall brown-haired guy Riku didn’t recognise added with a sneer. He must have only been recruited in this last year.
Riku was really starting to resent their treatment of him. The constant little jabs here and there, the barely masked insults slapped hard across his face, leaving bruised stinging cheeks. And now, even no name newbies who wasn’t even there when it happened have begun to bully him with as much natural ease as required for breathing …
“Hey!”
Tidus’ stern face materialised behind the brown-haired boy, a warning hand placed on his shoulder. The cocky boy winced under the pressure of his vice-captain’s hard grip.
“No one’s gonna screw up anything,” the blond’s eyes were hard. “Unless you plan to let your undeserving self-importance get in the way of the team…is that it?”
The boy shrugged in response, but nonetheless did not retort. He turned and sullenly trailed after his team out onto the court and into the light of welcoming screams.
Tidus watched him go. “Don’t worry about it, Riku. It’ll take them time, you know?”
Riku grunted in reply.
“Just go out on the field and play a fucking good game. They’ll respect you for your skill, if anything.”
A genuine smile slipped out past the silver-haired ex-captain’s lips as the blond current vice-captain gave him an encouraging pat on the back.
“Yeah.”

--

“Holy shit! Isn’t that Riku Samuel?! Is he back onto the team now? Wow. Didn’t expect that!”
Hayner strained his neck to get a better view, eyes blinking rapidly in disbelief like a cartoon character.
“Yeah, weird he’s back,” his friend, Pence, added neutrally. “He’s benching though, not playing.”
Hayner’s girlfriend, Olette, just shrugged without any interest. Instead, she seemed to be far more focused on the book that laid open in her lap.
“Not just weird. It’s fucking insane!” Hayner had pretty much leapt up from his seat, squinting, trying to see the court more clearly. “I thought the team would bloody lynch him on first sight, not let him rejoin.” He turned back with wild excited eyes, gesticulating in big movements. “This is like…blitzball’s flying pigs moment, you know!”
It was then that Hayner spotted his girlfriend’s preoccupation with something other than his beloved blitzball match. He pulled a face.
“Olette,” the blond whined. “Why are you reading of all things during a blitzball match?! And the first of the season too.”
The blonde girl just shrugged again. “I just don’t find it all that interesting,” she replied without looking up.
“And...” he snuck a glance at the title on top of each page, “ ‘White Oleander’ is? If you don’t like blitzball, why are you here anyway,” he pouted.
Instantly, Olette’s gaze snapped up from the page, eyes sharp and blazing blue. “I came here to support you – my boyfriend – in his interests, with or without his stupid haircut resulting from his own stupidity. So maybe you should do the same for me, hmm?”
Hayner looked shocked for a split second and then quickly apologised, mumbling something about pleasant surprises and pancakes, and Olette went back to her reading. Pence sniggered quietly in the background.
“Geez, women. Never get into a relationship with one,” Hayner turned to Sora, who was sitting on his other side. “They’re trouble, I’m telling you.”
“Heard that,” came Olette’s light voice.
They were like an old married couple.
Originally, Sora had planned to come to see Riku’s game alone. He wanted to see this sport that Riku had talked so much about. Of course they had played informal mock games back on the island, but Sora wanted to see it in its full glory: held inside a proper blitzball stadium with real blitzball players, as opposed to a bunch of clumsy kids kicking a ball in the makeshift court of the ocean floor. But after casually mentioning it once while in the presence of Hayner, the blond had jumped on the chance to gush about his favourite sport – blitzball – and demanded that Sora meet up with them at the game. It turned out the Hayner was quite the blitzball fanatic. His room was apparently covered in blitzball posters, memorabilia and other blitzball related items. He had every major bitzball league season on DVD, and even rarely missed their interschool blitzball games. It apparently drove Olette crazy.
But Sora could now see how someone could become so obsessed with such a sport now that he was seated in a packed stadium, suffocating in the anticipation and excitement of all the fans for the start of the first inter-school blitzball game of the season. The bleachers drowned under a tsunami of yellow and black. There was only a tinge of blue and white, the colours of the visitor team, Ronso Fangs.
A roar erupted, feet trampling the ground like a stampede, when the cheerleaders came jogging out onto the field, in perfectly uniform lines. They immediately cartwheeled and flipped their way into a complicated synchronised routine, yelling encouragements until the crowd was on their feet, almost screaming for the beginning of the match.
Sora could see Selphie’s mousy brown hair near the head of the pack, her long legs kicking and stretching beneath a short yellow and black skirt, green eyes sparkling with exuberance. Almost instantly, she caught his eye. Selphie beamed brightly and waved at him.
Completely unprepared for her kind gesture, Sora had froze for a moment, trying to comprehend the situation – where Selphie initiated a greeting to Sora, and not the other way around. Unwittingly, a smile bloomed on Sora’s lips. He waved back hesitantly.
Selphie bellowed out a laugh and winked at him. She then turned her gaze elsewhere, to the left of where he was sitting, searching for someone. Her eyes twinkled when she found them.
Sora followed her gaze.
There they were. The power clique, all having assembled for this occasion – only Leon seemed to be absent. It was easy to see why they were the object of admiration and worship for so many, students or not. Their presence were so surreal, they could have walked right out of someone’s dream. So beautiful and perfect, they were like poised ice sculptures in the midst of rough unfinished clay mounds.
Kairi in particular, Sora noted.
But maybe that was only because he feels so unworthy compared to her. He was the broken twig next to her diamond.
As if hearing his thoughts, the redhead turned her head, sapphire gaze locking onto his own. She didn’t say anything, or make any gestures of acknowledgement. She only stared unblinkingly, before looking away again as if nothing had happened.
Sora’s mouth felt a little dry. He quickly wet his lips to replace lost moisture.
Perhaps Kairi just didn’t see him. There were, after all, a lot of people gathered here tonight.
“Whoa,” Hayner’s awe was almost tangible, mindlessly splicing through Sora’s thoughts, shredding his preoccupation into pieces. “Did Selphie Tilmitt just wave at you? She’s one of the…you know…elite. How do you know her, you sly dog?”
“Um…” Sora flushed for no apparent reason. “I kind of know her through Riku,” he started to say but he was drowned out by the spectators’ sudden cheers, Hayner leaping to his feet along with them.
“It’s about to start,” the blond said gleefully in a sing-sing tone, hands almost rubbing together in anticipation.
The players had submerged into the water dome, already having taken their positions in the sphere. Their hair weaved softly through the water like smoke on the dawn.
Within moments, the first whistle screeched through the air.
But instead of becoming transfixed under the spell of blitzball, Sora found his gaze being absorbed by the seated figures occupying one of two sets of benches at the foot of the water sphere. One of them had shoulder-length silver hair and sat ramrod straight on his place, unlike his slouching team mates. It was as if he was unable to decide whether to give in to his natural interest in the sport and lean in to watch the game more closely, or to lean away in an effort to get away from it, and thereby ridding himself of the whole mess and particularly his part in it.

--

Riku didn’t particularly enjoy being a benchwarmer. After all, he had once led this team to victory. He was the one who gave the pep talks at the start of every match, and shook the opposing captain’s hand at end. But now, he was disposable. Only a substitute for a worthy player – a mere shadow of what he once was.
Riku didn’t know what he wanted. He both loved blitzball and hated it. He loved it because it was freedom – the one place he could be himself and have people cheer him on, instead of turning away in disgust, because of it. But at the same time, blitzball reminded him of all the reasons why he ran away from Radiant Garden in the first place. All the pressure and bureaucracy and discrimination along with it.
And somewhere in the sea of eyes watching him intently from two different angles, were both simultaneously Sora and Kairi. Sora sat with some new friends whom Riku vaguely remembered from years ago, while Kairi was with the others. Never in a moment did Riku realise how similar they were, and how much importance they commanded in his life. Yet, it was just as painfully obvious that they were so different. They would probably never coalesce compatibly.
Kairi was like a fire burning in the night, every now and then flickering resiliently in a cool evening breeze. And Sora was like the calm sea on a clear summer’s day, sporadically subject to a heavy forecast of storm clouds.
Riku shook his head. It was giving him a headache to think about these things. He was so tired from mulling over this same conundrum the last few weeks to the point where they started to gnaw his mind until only smithereens of the original remained.
Kairi and Sora. He was never good with choices.
Instead, Riku tried to focus his concentration entirely on the game.
They were at a precarious part of the game. Time had already elapsed a chunk into the second half, and despite Cid’s less than pleased half-time pep-talk, not a single goal had yet been scored from either side. It was in these moments where the understanding that a single goal could carry the weight of the entire game on its shoulders sank the heaviest.
Unlike some other sports where points were given away like candy, one must earn their points in blitzball. In blitzball, a single goal could be the drop that burst the dam between victory and defeat, pride and humiliation.
The tension of the crowd and the tension of the players entwined together in a perfect harmony, buzzing with anxiety for the final outcome. From his vantage point, Riku could almost smell the sweat of concentration leaking from the players’ pores, mixing in with the chlorine water. If he strained his ears enough, the frustrated grating of their teeth would almost become audible.
Cid was yelling at them from the sidelines, thrusting his arms with every word as if it would change the outcome of the match. “Dodge, you little fuckers!” “There’s an opening, Hubert, goddamnit! Can’t you recognise one even if it’s flashing you in the fucking face?!” It’s a miracle that no one even heard, let alone complained about his use of profanities in a teaching position, particularly among minors.
They needed this win. Apparently, the Besaid Aurochs had not done particularly well the last year. Winning the first match of the season would inspire confidence, paving their way to hopefully another championship.
Perhaps it was the pressure such a realisation, or Cid frantic and obscene coaching methods that finally broke Tarzan’s mental equilibrium. In his frustration, he lashed out and punched his opposition in the face during a scuffle for the blitzball. His long dreadlocks floating around his head like the snakes of Medusa, hissing his anger.
The referee immediately blew his whistle and flashed him a red card, motioning him to immediately leave the court.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, PORTER?!?!” Cid screamed in his ear as the dreadlocked boy stepped out of the water dome, leaving a trail of soggy footprints in his wake. “Are you fucking INSANE?! You beat his pansy arse in the parking lot afterwards, not IN THE FUCKING GAME!”
The brunette remained silently cold, closing his eyes as if to drown out the world, trying to regain his equilibrium.
“And where did that get us, huh? Now one fucking player down! Fucking happy now, Porter?! Get the fuck out of my face!” he spun away furiously, only to flash the referee a death glare for the surprised look the other sported at the way he treated his players. “Problem?” he called sarcastically.
“Your substitute,” the ref replied instead. “Or I’m calling time out.”
“Shit!” Cid swore to himself and crossed his arms, flicking intense glares between his substitute players and the water sphere, cogs turning wildly in his mind. Finally his hard pale blue eyes landed on Riku.
He clicked his jaw menacingly and cracked his neck. “Samuel,” the tall man finally barked. “Get in there.”
Riku glanced up in surprise, then at the water court where Cid jerked his head. He couldn’t believe that Cid was sending him out in the first game. He thought he’d have to wait at least another month or so before the man actually allowed him into the sphere, let alone play the first game.
“Me?”
Cid sneered. “Deaf now too, huh?” he leaned in.
“No,” Riku said and started towards the sphere, barely able to contain a wide grin.
“If you fuck up, Samuel, you’re never allowed back into that court again,” Cid called behind him for good measure. This was sadly his way of encouragement and inspiration to his players.
But Riku couldn’t hear him. Green eyes instead scanned for his brunet lover, to see if the other was watching this moment as he took his position inside the dome. He hoped Sora was proud. Sora always said he wanted to watch Riku play a proper game of blitzball.
Tidus gave him a wide smile as he swam past to his position of Right Defense, while Olympus, the Left Defense, scowled. Wakka just watched him, countenance strangely blank and devoid of expression.
His opposition, a lean black-haired boy with a hard face, sized him up from every angle. Instead of being intimidated, Riku felt a thrill flow through his body. It was the electricity of the game, knowing that within minutes, they would be diving, clawing, elbowing and tackling for the ball as if their life depended on it. He would be able to finally let his ugly self loose without repercussions. He knew his opponent felt the same way.
As soon as his eyes adjusted to their new liquid environment, Riku was able spot Sora through the invisible curtains of water. The brunet was sitting in the front few bleachers, patiently waiting with a little smile on his face.
So adorable. This game goes out to you, baby.
He wondered if Sora could see his smile from so far away.
Vying for attention, a persisting motion nagging in his bottom peripheral vision finally won its bid to draw his eyes. Riku glanced down and saw Selphie gesturing wildly at him, yelling words that only dissolved to murmurs through the water. She stuck her thumbs up at him, giving him a cheeky smile.
Good luck. Kick some arse, Riku.
It was a familiar wordless conversation they used to have at the beginning of every game.
Riku gave her a thumbs-up back.
Will do, Selph.
Selphie didn’t reply. Instead, she suddenly started to frantically gesture into the crowd, mouthing words that were too fast for him to work out. Riku followed her hands until he saw familiar faces. All the others were there. Kairi was first to notice him. She gave him a wave. It was only a small casual gesture, yet it seemed so much more significant even from within a sea of restless bodies. Riku smiled back with a small wave of his own. She beamed.
The game soon started.

--

There was energy. The water literally sizzled with it, carrying its electric current until it zapped into the spectators as well. Their expected cheers and boos and other equally enthusiastic shouts confirmed this contagion. Riku forgot how free it felt to glide through the water, concentrating on nothing but an inconsequential dimpled ball which seemed so much larger than life in the forty or so minutes it is used in a play.
The ball came whizzing towards his direction, intended for the Ronso Fang on his left. Riku darted towards him, ignoring the burning in his lungs due to being out of practice, refusing to break to the surface to take a breath until he had that ball safely in his clutches.
A few metres left. He stretched out his hand. The light bending qualities of the water made it seem closer than it actually was. The other player saw his approach and frantically raced for the ball as well. They were now within equal distance to their shared prize going for a nose-to-nose photo finish, with only speed to determine the distance.
Almost there, he strained.
Out of nowhere, a flash of red shot down like a volcanic eruption and stole the ball within centimetres of his grasp.
Wakka swung the ball back as far as his arm would let him, and hurled the ball dead in the centre of the triangular goal with all his might, using his original momentum to speed the blitzball forward. It shot through the water like a blur of dimpled lightening. The crowd hung on its every movement.
However, within the last seconds of the home stretch, the Fang goalie caught it, stopping it in its tracks, and threw it back to his own team mate, ignoring the boos of Auroch supporters.
Wakka shrugged it off as if it was nothing and straightened his blue bandana, refusing to expose his bitter disappointment. The team were too far emotionally invested in the game to be bothered reassuring their captain that it was a fair effort that just sadly didn’t make it.
Riku frowned, but more from the fact that Wakka, his own team mate, had snatched his ball from under his very fingers. Did game etiquette change while he was gone?
Another whistle reverberated through the water and the ball was back into play.
This time, an unfortunate throw landed a little way to the right of Riku. Running purely on his blitzball instincts, Riku dove at it without a second thought. His hands closed around the ball, fingers running along the edges of each dimple. But once again, the obstruction which stopped him from taking the ball was not his opponent as it should have been, but another team mate. This time, it was the cocky Athenian.
Hercules Olympus actually smirked at him as he jammed his shoulders hard into Riku’s arm. He mouthed something at him, a jeer in the way his lips moved, and then tore the ball from Riku’s hands, nails carelessly scratching Riku’s skin, leaving angry red welts. The sandy-haired athlete’s green eyes flashed with satisfaction as he viciously knocked the silver-haired boy away, swimming for the goal like a hungry blood-hunting shark, all the while dodging killer-whale opponents.
The crowd hissed in confusion and sympathy.

--

“Fuck,” Hayner flinched physically as Riku Samuel was shoved to one side. “I knew it was too strange to be true. But why let him play if their just gonna bully him out on the field?”
Pence shrugged. “Public revenge?”
Was it? Sora wondered, worry clouding his mind as Riku rubbed his arm with a blank face. Why do so many people hate you so much, Riku?

--

Arsehole. Riku’s jade eyes narrowed after the Athenian boy.
He was glad when the sandy-haired athlete’s goal attempt failed, despite it being an entirely counter-productive attitude for their team as a whole.
Both the goalie and another player of the Fangs had forced Olympus back, trapping him from all sides, pressuring him on his possession of the ball until in the heat of a struggle for dominance in which all three rolled hazardously closer towards the outbound regions of the sphere, the ball itself was accidentally knocked all the way to the other side of the court, right towards Riku.
There was no question on what to do. The ball came safely into his possession, and with the goalie trapped amidst tangled struggling limbs, the goal was open and clear of obstruction.
Riku darted forward instantly and flung his arm back, feeling the familiar and much missed acbing of muscles straining for more energy. In a most practiced movement, the silver-haired player hauled the ball forward like the way athlete discus-tossers would throw a light Frisbee. It flew towards the goal too fast for the eye to detect.
The goalie saw the danger approach and dove back to the goal, arms reaching out to protect its current vulnerability. The tips of his fingers scraped the sides of the ball, forcing it to veer off its intended course.
But not enough so.
DING! DING!
The sound echoed.
The bell had spoken. The first goal of the season went to Riku Samuel – the returning champion.

--

Hayner’s cries were thunderous and Pence joined in on the proud screamed cheering of the spectators in the stand.
“Holy shit!!” they were saying. “He fucking scored! It’s in the bag now!”
Even Olette looked up from her book, curious to see what had happened.
Sora had leapt to his feet at the excitement, hands clapping on its own accord like he was one of those robotic wind-up toys that clapped and walked straight-legged and stiffly with every wind. A sense of elation flooded through him at a victory which wasn’t his own, but he felt nonetheless. He was also proud for Riku. How this would cheer his dark moods up, he thought happily.
Hayner was still screeching with zeal.
“Ha ha ha,” he bellowed happily and practically jumped on Sora, throwing his arms around the smaller boy, engulfing him in the biggest hug of his life, while blocking stunned ocean-blue eyes from seeing anything beyond Hayner’s jumper. “This is so awesome!” he was saying.
The blond’s happiness was contagious. Sora laughed as Hayner let go and returned to his seat, cheeks flushing and eyes coruscating with excitement.
“You’ll be a blitzball convert yet,” he said, ruffling Sora’s hair affectionately. “Just you see.”
Sora beamed like a child on Christmas.

--

He had suffered the group pats and congratulatory tackles before, but had forgotten just how strong his team mates were and how hard a ‘pat’ could be, especially an excited one. Riku was still rubbing his sore arms as the boys finally receded back to their positions. But nothing would rub the smile from his face. They had called him “brotha” and “mate” and said “good goal” and “you’re alright, Samuel.”
The silver-haired boy could even hear Cid bellowing happy expletives on the sidelines, sneaking in subtle mocks at the visitor team’s expense.
It was like Tidus said. They just needed to see him play – see how good he was – and everything would be fine.
Only Olympus didn’t bother, but that didn’t matter. He even thought to return the other teen’s earlier sentiments. Riku cocked an eyebrow with an ironic grin. It made the other boy scowl. Good.
But when Riku glanced up from his silly self-flattering thoughts, he noticed Wakka standing off a little away. He had a strange half-smile on his face. At the same time, it was congratulatory for his success, but there was also a hidden element behind the sentiment, straining to reach the surface. Something…he couldn’t quite place.
Wakka averted his eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
There was definitely something going on, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know.
He felt his smile dim a little.
Then his gaze darted beyond his redhead friend and out into the roaring crowd, almost chanting his name. Green eyes struggled to find a little brunet with deep blues and rosy lips. And when they finally located their target, it was not a sight he expected.
Sora was wrapped up in the arms of his new blond companion, their cheeks placed against each other, burying their faces into each other’s hair. He hoped he wasn’t seeing what he thought he was seeing.
But can one ever be sure?
When the two separated from the embrace, Riku noticed they were both suitably flushed. And Sora was smiling, which he rarely did so easily in the presence of others.
No. Beaming was more like it.
A cold stab pierced Riku’s heart.
It was what he always feared by bringing Sora into his oppressive and beguiling world. And it was playing out right before his very eyes.
That Radiant Garden would either crush Sora’s fragile spirit and destroy all that was good and beautiful within him, or, conversely, it would drive him away after having discovered the truth – just what sort of a person Riku really was, and what sort of a hellhole that had spawned from.

--

Having his pride hurt the way it did in the dome could not have done anything for Hercules Olympus’ needy ego. He only scowled the whole way through Cid’s end of match speech (in which a few rare kind words were spoken over an ex-captain) and acted like a spoiled child all throughout the showers, angrily swatting away team mates’ efforts to calm him or ask what was wrong.
“He’s so bloody childish,” Tidus murmured in Riku’s ear, detachedly eyeing the sandy-haired Athenian button up his shirt. “It a wonder he’s not still in primary school, learning basic manners.”
Money doesn’t buy brains, he would have answered.
Riku would have laughed, too, under any other circumstances, but that day, he was no longer in a light-hearted mood. Instead, the silver-haired mustered a half-hearted smile and hoped his blond friend would peg it down to tiredness.
He fell for it.
But Olympus was much harder to dispel.
As Riku reached down to stuff his towel into his gym bag, a tap of the foot forced him to look up.
Olympus was there waiting for his attention, arms folded and lips pressed in a harsh line. “Just so you know, ex-captain,” he poured his sarcasm into the title. “This changes nothing. You’re still a shit-kicker and no lucky shot is going to change that.”
Riku narrowed his eyes. He was not in the mood for this.
“Mine was a lucky shot, was it?” he replied softly, straightening up menacingly. “So does that make you unlucky? Or just plain untalented?”
Snap.
“What d’you say?” came the low growl.
“I said at least I can score a goal, while the only thing you seem to be good at is losing the ball for us.” He noted with satisfaction that he seemed to have struck an insecure cord with in the Athenian. “Now, move.”
“Cocky homo,” the snarling teen muttered resentfully under his breath as Riku pushed passed. “Get over yourself.”
Riku froze in his step.
He did not just fucking say that.
“Pardon?” he swung back with sharp cat-like eyes.
Olympus snapped up his head to face him. “I called you a gay faggot. Would you like me to repeat it a second time?”
They glared at each other, like two predators circling each other before the fight to the death. The tension between them crackled like whips, instantly alerting the other boys in the change room of their hatred. With the morbid fascination people exhibit over car crash sites, they formed a circle around the two lions like vultures surrounding a carcass.
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, voice as quiet as like whispers of darkness. “Could you? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“Okay then, you deaf ass-fucker,” the Athenian boy spat, crossing his arm. “We all know you’re a shit-dick shirt-lifter. Do you check us out in the shower after practices? Hiding in the cubicles, jerking off to the images of our cocks?” he taunted, leaning in with a wicked smirk. “Go run back to your faggot retreat. We were doing just fine last year without you.”
Riku breathed in sharply. His furious green eyes seemed to be alit with white flame. The anger pumped erratic adrenaline through his system, soaring through his veins and thumping his heart with thrice-fold of strength.
Throwing down his gym bag, Riku immediately leapt at the other boy, who, in turn, met him with equal ferocity halfway.

--

“He got into a fight,” Tidus reported and quickly turned back again.
Everyone seemed stunned. Especially Kairi and Sora.
Riku had changed so much over the last eighteen months that he seemed like a completely different person now – much calmer, more mature, and less thoughtless in his actions. The new Riku would never get into a fight without a reason, particularly if he should currently be elated for scoring the first and only goal for the match. It was like they had travelled back into time and was seeing the old Riku again – the one who didn’t care so much about anything.
“With who?” Kairi asked breathlessly as she and Sora whizzed through the chatty dissipating crowd behind Tidus.
“Hercules Olympus,” came the blond’s reply. The name rang no bells with Sora.
“Olympus?” a frown appeared on Kairi’s brows. “But he used to worship Riku.”
Tidus breathed a laugh humourlessly. “A lot has changed since then, Kairi.” He then turned to Sora. “Sora, you have to calm him down,” he said.
Sora seemed surprised that he turned to him, and not to the redhead beside him, who had known the silver-haired a lot longer than he had. Kairi seemed to be feeling the more or less the same sentiments as he, but more negatively. She frowned and looked away.
“Okay.”
“Good. Here we go.”
They had reached the entry of the boys locker room. Tidus was about to push it when it swung open on its own accord. And speak of the devil, Riku came marching out. A bruise on his left cheekbone and cut marred the corner of his lips.
He froze in shock at the sight of them, not expecting anybody on the other side, let alone the three of them in particular.
Riku opened his mouth, but no words came out, so he closed them again. His tired green eyes surveying their worried faces, waiting.
Sora needed no prompting at all. The sight of his boyfriend and best friend’s beaten face made him want to quiver and wrap his arms around the silver-haired, kissing the bruised skin away.
“Riku,” he began to say, “are you okay? What happened in there?”
But something happened at that moment. His voice was entwined in the sound of another’s voice, mouthing the exact same thing, word for word. The two tones created such a sharp dissonance that only those who knew the whole back-story would be able to detect it.
Riku’s sharply blank face and Tidus’ cocked eyebrow forced Sora and Kairi, both shocked, to confront each other, sizing each other up.
It was the two of their voices, together and at the same time, uttering the lines: “Riku, are you okay? What happened in there?”
“Um…” Kairi filled in the silence. Her surprise at their synchronised words was doused in a cool detachment; a shield erected in her now matte eyes.
“Um…” Tidus repeated, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes darting between the two and the object they were vying for – Riku. He hated to get in between these kinds of things. It always ended messy. And now – the challenge for the day was to find a way to get out of there as safely as possible and completely unharmed.
But before anybody could respond, the sounds of heavy boots stomping on the ground grew louder and harsher as it came nearer. Cid Highwind threw open the door in all his fury, his long trench coat blowing behind him like a pirate flag.
“Monday, Samuel,” he snarled, pointing at the back of Riku’s head with two angry outstretched fingers, ignoring everyone else as if they didn’t exist. His pale blue eyes were like two burning coal lumps fashioned in the furnaces of Hell and placed inside the eye sockets of Cid’s head. “Bright and fucking early, got it?”
He didn’t wait for a reply, nor did Riku give one. The large blond man pivoted around and stomped off, the tail of his coat swishing behind him like a frightened yet dutiful bulldog.
Riku’s green eyes had dulled to almost a shade of washed out olives. He glanced at the faces of Sora and Kairi – his lover and best friend, his other best friend and previous love. They were the one and the same, yet not.
Riku closed his eyes to block them all out. He didn’t want to do this now. He had no strength to choose right now. He was so tired. So so spent.
Just let me breathe for a bit, please.
Without a word, the silver-haired Samuel (ironically) pushed straight through the two of them – between the two frozen great preoccupations of his life – without a backward glance. He strode down the hallway, soon turning the corner and disappearing out of sight.
Nobody stopped him

A/N: Reviews are appreciated. But as long as you read it all, then I’m happy.
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The Long Weekend Away