I like writing emo Riku, apparently. I began this fic with the intention of setting after KH2, where they’re all home and safe…but then it turned into a blindfolded Riku thing. With some Namiku begging to be put in. ~sigh~ Aside from the angst and kinkiness factor, I don’t even know why I like writing blindfold Riku. Maybe I just like writing fillers, things that could’ve happened in the course of canon timeline. I certainly haven’t written anything with a unique plot, so far. =_=;;
Note that I sometimes do neglect commas in places, but those are intentional, and not because I don’t know any better. But feel free to correct me if you think they shouldn’t be omitted.
Title: Simple and Clean
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts 2
Summary: The effort to feel clean is not as simple as King Mickey made it sound.
Warning(s): Emo Angsty Riku again. You have been warned.
Word Count: 562
“Believe in yourself! Then make sure you take a good, long soak in the tub…until you feel clean! Fight the darkness inside you!”
Riku turned the tap. A thin sprinkle of hot water rained down from the shower faucet above. Riku turned his head up to it and turned the water up. The spray increased.
Riku just stood for a moment, letting the hot water ravage his body, before finally moving his hands to his face and viciously rubbing. He ran a hand through his hair as well, tugging with unnecessary force.
The rubbing continued, all through his body, sometimes accidentally scratching himself in his vehemence.
The hot water continued to pond his skin, sweat formed and mixed with the steam and the spray. He paid it no heed, until finally he felt he’d rubbed his skin raw and reached out to lean against the wall, gripping it as if it would keep him up, gasping and breathing heavily.
Keeping his eyes carefully closed, he groped for the handle of the shower door and slid it open, stepping carefully out of the shower.
His hands felt for the surface of the sink, leaning with his hands against it, head bowed, as to avoid looking into the mirror.
Just in case he opened his eyes.
His right hand slowly ran across the sink until he felt something soft—a long strip of cloth, that he’d taken off carelessly. He’d wondered, briefly, if it had fallen to the floor.
Wordlessly, he picked up the cloth and tied it around his eyes. That didn’t feel any better, not really, but now that it was on he felt a bit relieved.
It was relief to be unable to see what he’d become.
He reached for his clothes—his disguise.
The first time he’d taken a “cleansing shower,” as he called them now, it had worked, a little. He’d felt a little better, then. But it was beginning to wear off. The more the organization coat plastered itself to his skin, the more unclean he felt. As the days went on, the clothes felt more like the trappings of darkness and he a Nobody.
A Heartless in the heart of a Nobody, he thought, hands fumbling to zip the coat.
After a fashion, he thought to laugh. There was no humor in the gesture, and the sound rang hollow.
He managed to zip the coat, and for a moment just stood there, arms by his sides, fingers twitching, as if they wanted to juts reach up and tear out his troublesome heart.
A soft knock sounded at the door. “Riku?”
Naminé.
He reached out and gripped the doorknob, without any hesitation or fumbling.
He didn’t really need to go by touch to get his clothes on, even with the blindfold. He just indulged in the fantasy.
He opened the door, and mutely stood in the doorway.
“Riku….” Fingers brushed across his face, touching the blindfold.
He reached up and caught her hand, absently—almost subconsciously—wrapping his gloved fingers around her bare ones.
“I need to go,” he said softly, almost inaudibly. He dropped her hand and moved past her.
He felt a light pressure whisper past his sleeve, almost as if Naminé had reached out to catch him, to stop him from going.
He didn’t look back, and continued to walk away.