he would live for him, but instead it seems like he's going to die for him.
riku's lashes flutter like butterfly wings as pain lances through his body, worse than anything he's ever felt before as impossibly sharp teeth sink deep into his femoral artery, slicing through muscle and fat, sinew and tendon. he grits his teeth and tries not to buck off the body pinning him down.
he forces every muscle to relax, one by one, like untwisting bent wires until he's bloody and pliant and supine. his lashes flutter again as his vision starts to shudder and he can feel tears tracking down his cheeks as teeth retract and feather-light kisses are presses against the ghastly wound.
his head is swimming, and with each pitiful thump of his heart he can feel the warmth in his body draining.
it's euphoric, it's awful, it's beautiful.
with clumsy movements, he reaches out to touch the dark mass that's his best friend, fingers shaky as he traces the baby-fat laden cheek. sora was still so young. his rage manifested in such a way because he couldn't handle the nasty, rotten feelings when they actually surfaced.
teeth trace the outer edges of his finger, and honey-amber eyes look at him like one would scrutinize a bug under a glass.
riku could gladly be crushed under his gaze.