Title: White Sheet
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories/2
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit gained. This is a fanwork.
Characters/Pairings: Riku Replica
Summary: He would not cry - that was left for those who lived and would have to deal with the blood on their hands.
Notes: References to much of the Organization/Riku Replica. Originally written and posted as 'Lunchbox'.
Naked and cold, he clutched at the striped coat left behind for him. He would not cry - that was left for those who lived and would have to deal with the blood on their hands.
Already he had enough on his own, yet he'd been welcomed into the secret recesses of the castle as an honored but unspoken guest.
From his previous time spent curled around the fingers of the Organization and breathing in their almost tangible-but-empty power, he could also feel when it vanished.
Clutching at the striped coat that he didn't bother to truly cover his body with, he stayed on the bed.
The final battle had ended.
He would stay cold - Xemnas would not be sharing the plain white bed that night or any night after. Reaching down, letting go of the coat with just one hand, he smoothed a few of the wrinkles on the bared sheet, watching as they only moved the distance past his reach to a place where another body usually rested.
Body or bodies - he remembered many times that the leering Saix would push him aside in order to offer the only thing they had that wasn't words.
Bodies without hearts resorted back to all things carnal - to impulses and lust. They were interesting to watch and he almost felt broken (more broken) to know that such a creature had created him only to curse him and forget the most important element.
The wrinkles wouldn't leave the sheet - not while he stayed on it, his own skin barely a contrast after so many months lived solely indoors or in the dark of the World That Never Was.
He wasn't sure where the concept of a soul fit into the very real concepts of heart and body. He thought he had both, as when he gave his body to anyone willing to exchange pleasure, he could feel the difference between his very real emotions and the very strange, empty flashes of memory mixed in with physical completion.
Now there was a word - 'complete'.
Letting the coat fall low over his lap, covering his privates as though suddenly he had reason for modesty (after all, he was now very alone in a place that would likely crumble to dust without the maintenance needed to, well, maintain it), he stretched once.
And then he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, happy that he'd let Xaldin cut it short enough to almost resemble the little dark flame that he'd snuffed out. The less he looked like the man he'd been created to take the place of, the better.
Glancing at the closet, he knew he'd have to slide from the bed eventually and look to see if Xemnas had expired without leaving him at least a pair of boots to wear. Normally the chill of the floor didn't bother him, but he knew that the floor wouldn't be the end of the journey that needed to begin.
As he looked back at the wrinkles marring the white sheet one last time, he pushed the coat to one side.
Then he swung his legs off the bed and softly stepped onto the cold floor, not bothering to shiver or complain aloud about his situation. He had no right to complain - even if his existence was cursed, he was still alive.
Boots, pulled from a half-hidden closet, went on after black pants and a black top, thick material and leather to protect from the creeping chill. Gloves.
The coat was simply the finishing touch on a larger work. He smiled as he put it on and did up the zipper just enough that the sides weren't going to flap when he walked.
Peering into a mirror used more often to watch whomever had come into the room, he smoothed the coat once as though he was smoothing the sheets before again running fingers through his hair.
With one last look at the bed and the white sheet that would hold those wrinkles until it ceased to be, he turned towards the door.
Xemnas would never claim him again; Xigbar would not tease him; Xaldin would not smirk and ruffle his hair from the other side of the room... he knew he could have continued the list, lingering on the nights spent sharing the crazed lust of men who were merely husks...
He knew he shouldn't care.
At least about the lot of them. But Xemnas had given him the coat and told him to keep the cold away. As if he hadn't wanted to sink into the chill more than once.
But if they could keep living and reaching for a goal that seemed so far away, the least he could do was try to live - try to find a goal.
Somewhere in the deserted world, there had to be something he could use as a weapon. Something that would compliment the darkness that he didn't even need to worry about falling to.
Because finally, after endless nights, he had a goal.
His coat still flapped as wild wind whipped around the remaining buildings of the world. Things that hadn't crumbled were crumbling. The World That Never Was wouldn't last much longer. Reaching to pull the dual zippers both up and down to cover more of his body, he smiled.
Sweet, sweet revenge.
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