Entrar
- it goes down with a burn, but i think i deserve the pain -
post-remind | riku pov | coping as best you can
cw: references to self-harm and related imagery, blood, and depression
Written for shiritori, the first piece I've felt proud of in a while.
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"He could say the most embarrassing things without batting an eye."
Riku laces the words with fondness, an easy feat when it only requires a swift swipe of memory’s blade across the flesh of his heart, let love and devotion bleed freely through the wound and into the body and from his lips. Easy and familiar, no matter how Riku tries to stop picking at wounds barely scabbed over, but maybe that was part of the problem? The part that feels familiar, like sun-warm brown hair and too-loud laughter that always, always broke into helpless snorting giggles that always, always settled over Riku like an old bed-time story told beneath a faded yellow blanket.
Familiar like a knife to his skin, and like clear water tinting pink before dripping down onto the porcelain white tub. Painful, dangerous, worth remembering.
Fine, warm fingers curl around the back of his hand - gently, slowly, like he’s still holding that knife in a white-knuckled grip - and it’s only then that Riku realizes he’d been rubbing at the space above his heart, pressing down and down with the heel of palm until it ached like a bruise he wasn’t ready to let heal. Emboldened by Riku’s stillness, the fingers sink down to brush the worn cotton of his shirt so that tidy, rounded nails can root in the space between Riku’s chest and his hand to nudge, just a little, until Riku takes the hint, takes the offer, and eases the pressure of his hand. Not much, but just enough for the other to scoop it up and out and away in a single fluid motion.
Riku already misses the pain.
Aerith must realize it, because the twitch in Riku’s left hand is quickly halted and soothed by Aerith’s free hand cupping over it gently. A simple tether they both know Riku could snap through easily, and one they both know he won’t. Those gentle, warm hands squeeze, just once, just enough, and in a shaky rush the breath Riku forgot he was holding spills out into the open air.
Easy. Familiar.
Riku’s surprised nothing red comes rushing out behind it.
“Riku-“
“Sorry.” The interruption sounds clipped, strained. Riku closes his eyes and breathes back in to avoid seeing the way stress looks in Aerith’s eyes. “I know I’ve told you this before.” And all at once the warmth around his hands is too much, too scalding, too kind, and as nauseating shame pools in his stomach Riku attempts an aborted, warning tug to prompt Aerith to release him. “I should get going any-“
Her grip grows tight but no less gentle or kind, a feat Riku has always been a little bit in awe of, and it frightens him enough to make him jerk his hands back again, the beginnings of a strangled yelp bubbling in his throat. “Riku,” she whispers with a voice that reminds Riku of soft yellow fabric draped around his shoulders and the warm glow of a flashlight beneath it. Familiar, safe.
His chest aches like a bruise, and he wants nothing more than to press down harder and harder and make the ache grow deep.
“Riku,” Aerith calls again, as gentle as before and too patient for Riku’s unraveling heart. He squeezes his eyes shut until he sees sparks behind his eyelids, pushes air out and pulls it back in as steady as he can, doesn’t feel the ache ease but feels the compulsion to make it worse fade the smallest bit. With conscious effort, Riku pulls his nails from the dried skin of his palm and forces himself not to dwell on the sting left behind. “You know he’s still there, better than anyone else. You know you’ll find him.”
He knows he remembers a too-loud laugh that sends a ghost of warmth curling around his heart, and he knows aches to hear it again.
One more breath. In. Out. Secure that hint of warmth and keep it from fluttering away. Believe in things nameless and one named. Feel the phantom heartbeat nestled next to his own that is truly no phantom at all. Set the knife down.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Know.
Riku opens his eyes.
“Hey, do you mind if I finish the story?”
cw: references to self-harm and related imagery, blood, and depression
Written for shiritori, the first piece I've felt proud of in a while.
------------------------------------------------------
"He could say the most embarrassing things without batting an eye."
Riku laces the words with fondness, an easy feat when it only requires a swift swipe of memory’s blade across the flesh of his heart, let love and devotion bleed freely through the wound and into the body and from his lips. Easy and familiar, no matter how Riku tries to stop picking at wounds barely scabbed over, but maybe that was part of the problem? The part that feels familiar, like sun-warm brown hair and too-loud laughter that always, always broke into helpless snorting giggles that always, always settled over Riku like an old bed-time story told beneath a faded yellow blanket.
Familiar like a knife to his skin, and like clear water tinting pink before dripping down onto the porcelain white tub. Painful, dangerous, worth remembering.
Fine, warm fingers curl around the back of his hand - gently, slowly, like he’s still holding that knife in a white-knuckled grip - and it’s only then that Riku realizes he’d been rubbing at the space above his heart, pressing down and down with the heel of palm until it ached like a bruise he wasn’t ready to let heal. Emboldened by Riku’s stillness, the fingers sink down to brush the worn cotton of his shirt so that tidy, rounded nails can root in the space between Riku’s chest and his hand to nudge, just a little, until Riku takes the hint, takes the offer, and eases the pressure of his hand. Not much, but just enough for the other to scoop it up and out and away in a single fluid motion.
Riku already misses the pain.
Aerith must realize it, because the twitch in Riku’s left hand is quickly halted and soothed by Aerith’s free hand cupping over it gently. A simple tether they both know Riku could snap through easily, and one they both know he won’t. Those gentle, warm hands squeeze, just once, just enough, and in a shaky rush the breath Riku forgot he was holding spills out into the open air.
Easy. Familiar.
Riku’s surprised nothing red comes rushing out behind it.
“Riku-“
“Sorry.” The interruption sounds clipped, strained. Riku closes his eyes and breathes back in to avoid seeing the way stress looks in Aerith’s eyes. “I know I’ve told you this before.” And all at once the warmth around his hands is too much, too scalding, too kind, and as nauseating shame pools in his stomach Riku attempts an aborted, warning tug to prompt Aerith to release him. “I should get going any-“
Her grip grows tight but no less gentle or kind, a feat Riku has always been a little bit in awe of, and it frightens him enough to make him jerk his hands back again, the beginnings of a strangled yelp bubbling in his throat. “Riku,” she whispers with a voice that reminds Riku of soft yellow fabric draped around his shoulders and the warm glow of a flashlight beneath it. Familiar, safe.
His chest aches like a bruise, and he wants nothing more than to press down harder and harder and make the ache grow deep.
“Riku,” Aerith calls again, as gentle as before and too patient for Riku’s unraveling heart. He squeezes his eyes shut until he sees sparks behind his eyelids, pushes air out and pulls it back in as steady as he can, doesn’t feel the ache ease but feels the compulsion to make it worse fade the smallest bit. With conscious effort, Riku pulls his nails from the dried skin of his palm and forces himself not to dwell on the sting left behind. “You know he’s still there, better than anyone else. You know you’ll find him.”
He knows he remembers a too-loud laugh that sends a ghost of warmth curling around his heart, and he knows aches to hear it again.
One more breath. In. Out. Secure that hint of warmth and keep it from fluttering away. Believe in things nameless and one named. Feel the phantom heartbeat nestled next to his own that is truly no phantom at all. Set the knife down.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Know.
Riku opens his eyes.
“Hey, do you mind if I finish the story?”
