Excerpt: Citric Acid

“So, when you say you’re in control now... even when you see something like that?”

Riku made the mistake of turning to look directly at the replica, and he vanished. But before he did, Riku caught the direction his gaze had been looking. He turned his head towards the island where Sora and Kairi were sitting, just in time to see the two of them bite into the paopu fruit in each other’s hands.

Immediately, his heart tore at him, a ripping pain that split him down the middle, cracking him open. He felt the darkness rise up like acid in his stomach, spilling out of him. Black, tar-like feelings overwhelmed him—guilt, anger, fear, jealousy, heartbreak—swamping his senses.

He took another deep breath and watched them, unable to turn away. He let the feelings run through him, like standing under a waterfall. He felt the pressure of them flowing down onto him, down his body, and away again. He kept breathing. Focused on it. Steady in, steady out. Did they even know he was here? Did they even care? Steady in, steady out.

A paopu was a big fruit; not easy for one person to finish in a single sitting. The couple on the island were clearly focused on each other, more than anything else. After a few bites each they set the fruit down. From his vantage, Riku could see the way Sora was grinning sheepishly. They were holding hands. He wondered if their hands were sticky from the juice, if it had run down their fingers and wrists. He wondered if the taste lingered in Sora’s mouth.

The sun hadn’t even finished setting by the time the two of them rose and headed back. Riku watched as Sora got halfway across the bridge and jumped down, laughing as he held his arms out for Kairi, encouraging her to jump after him. She barely hesitated; he watched as Sora caught her and swung her around once before setting her down and clasping her hand again, walking with her towards the passage to the far side of the island.

The door closing behind them did nothing to ease Riku’s feelings. The bitter taste of abandonment was familiar to him, as much an old friend in his heart as the replica. More so; it had been with him longer. He let the misery settle onto his shoulders like the comfortable weight of a blanket, turning his eyes back out to the sea. It was his, as he’d told the replica. These feelings were his own, good and bad. His heartbreak was a sign of his love, an indication of how deep it ran. Light cast shadows; the stronger the light, the deeper the shadow. What he was feeling now was as much a treasure, in its own way, as the love that spawned it.

After a moment or two, Riku stood and waded out into the water, sloshing his way to the far side of the little islet where there was an old ladder leading up to the top of the little outcrop. He hardly needed it; with a push off the bottom rung and an effortless jump, he leaped easily up to the island, one hand still casually resting in his pocket.

The two half-eaten paopu fruits still lay where Sora and Kairi had left them on the trunk of the tree. Riku sauntered casually over towards them. At each step, his heart beat a little louder in his chest.

When he reached the trunk, he picked up the paopu that Sora had bitten into, turning it over in his hands. One of the points of the star was gone, taken off in a few large mouthfuls.

Once, when they had all been much younger, small children in a smaller world, Selphie had made fun of Riku for sharing Sora’s juicebox. “Eeeew,” he still remembered her saying. “You’re putting your mouth on the same straw where his was! That’s like you’re kissing him!”

Riku had thrown the drink away, flinging it across the beach, embarrassed and afraid in a way he hadn’t quite been able to vocalize at the time. He’d regretted it immediately, of course, as his apparently callous action had made Sora cry. He’d had to promise to get him another drink when they got home, which had pacified his friend in the moment, but the memory of the incident had sat uneasily at the back of his psyche for a long time.

Tentatively, Riku bent his head down to the paopu fruit, to the place where Sora had bitten. He opened his mouth, breathing in the sweet, pungent scent. Gently, he stuck out his tongue, tracing the perimeter of the bite. With a dedicated, conscientious care he sought out the grooves and valleys left by Sora’s teeth, memorizing the contours of Sora’s mouth by feel alone, like a blind man reading braille. The flavor of the paopu fruit was sweet, with an overwhelmingly intense citrus tang. No wonder they hadn’t been able to eat much at once.

With a sense of resolve, Riku bit down, feeling the give of the fruit’s flesh against the force of his jaw, sinking his teeth into the softness. The flavor burst in his mouth, juice trickling down his chin. The taste was sweet as heartache.

Riku vaulted up onto the paopu tree with practiced ease, settling onto the curve of the trunk and staring once more out over the ocean, holding the fruit in front of him with both hands as he chewed at the pulpy mouthful.

He heard the replica’s voice in the back of his mind, although he didn’t see him again this time.

“This is dealing with it?”