Broken

Riku had never understood how Sora could admire him so.

Yes, he was the leader, the protector, the intelligent one, almost like a community older brother to be shared by everyone. Of course, that was only on the outside. On the inside he was darkness, filled with hate and ice cold to the touch, tormented by the pitch black that infected his soul. He couldn't see it. Why would anyone admire someone like him?

Sora would smile at him and sometimes he would almost flinch. Because in his mind, the only thing he could imagine was how he would inevitably shatter that smile, how Sora would instead glare and shout all the hurtful things in the world at him...

You're not who I thought you were. You were never that person at all. You're a fake, Riku! Everyone knows who you really are now, and we hate you!

He would begin to shake, and in reality, Sora would blink and stare at him, concerned — Riku, are you okay? — but Riku couldn't hear it, couldn't see it, he was stuck in his nightmare and he couldn't get out and—

And I hate you too!

His heart would break, then and there, just one more piece of his forever incomplete heart to toss away. He would whimper, sometimes even cry, and Sora would rush forward, embrace him, tell him everything was okay. Riku would shiver and weep silently, holding onto Sora as best he could because he didn't want to lose him. He could feel him slipping. No, no, no.

But Sora would smile that smile again, and — though the wounds still hurt — his tattered heart would slowly recover.

He would resume the position, return to that false identity that exuded power, strength... he'd continue the lie for everyone, especially Sora's, sake.

Because really he was so fragile.

...it was all he could do until his spirit broke again.