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Life Isn't Enough

Chapter One: Promise

I

I'd lived there for as far back as I can remember, there on the yellow beaches with the white sun in the sky and the green-blue water crawling about on the shore. A prismatic view, helped along by the silvery hair that flowed through the air as he moved, almost like a completely separate creature. I loved that hair, threading my fingers through it whenever I got the chance. So silky and almost girlish, falling nearly to his shoulders and sparkling a rainbow of colors when the sun hit it just right.

The day we met was a rainy one ten years ago when I was four, sheets of water pouring down on the road. Mom and I stopped for gas. It was always Mom and I—I don't remember my father at all, and I've learned not to ask what happened to him. We were just without him when we pulled up at the gas station, and that was the end of it. There was a purple car next to our dusky brown, and I looked at it in fascination from one of the middle seats of our van. Who in their right mind would buy a car that was so purple?

Whoever it was seemed to be looking through the car window at me, hands pressed against the glass and their breath making a small oval of steam on the window. I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. They retreated into the car again, making me wonder what was different about their car. Maybe it was purple inside, too. That would be kinda weird.

The person I had seen slipped out of the car and pulled open the door to mine, his oblivious parents bantering back and forth over the type of gas and how much. "Hi," he said in a voice that was clearly male, sliding the door closed. His eyes were aquamarine, glittering mischievously, and his silver hair fell to just past his ears. It was odd to see someone with that color hair unless it was an old person.

I couldn't think for a moment. I was still a little surprised that he had the boldness to just jump out of his car and into mine. "Hi," I replied, blinking.

"What's your name?" He took the seat next to me.

"Sora." I hesitated. "What's yours?"

But he was busy already, trying out my name on the end of his tongue. "Soh-ra, Soraah, Syaora," he stated, twisting it into several different syllables. "I'm Riku," he answered finally. "Riku Yume."

"Why's your hair white?" I asked, feeling suddenly that I wanted to touch it.

"It's not white. It's silver."

"Why?"

" 'Cause."

His voice sounded a bit defensive now, so I decided not to press the issue. Instead, I reached out and rubbed a silver strand between my thumb and forefinger. "It's really soft."

"Yeah. Mom says that too." For some reason, he didn't seem to mind.

"Why's your car purple?"

" 'Cause it is," he told me, smiling. It was becoming a game. "Why's your hair so messy?"

" 'Cause," I replied, catching on and smiling as well. "Are you moving here?" I asked, noticing the stuff packed on top of and around his car.

"Nope. Decided to give our stuff a ride," he deadpanned, smirking.

I chose to ignore that. "Cool! Maybe we'll be in school together." After all, I needed a friend. I needed one very badly, at that.

I started to say something else—now I can't remember what it was—but then I looked up and saw Mom coming out of the store. "You better get back to your own car," I told him, slipping back to my seat and pulling on the seatbelt.

But he didn't move. His eyes glinted in a way I decided I didn't like. "Nah, I'll just ride with you," he decided. He slipped around the middle seats and sat down in the back, clicking the seat belt together and leaning down so that he couldn't be seen.

"But Riku—!"

"Hi, honey," Mom said above the repeated dinging of the car due to the open door. "Been okay?"

"Yeah, Mom." I hesitated, looking at my knees as if they would tell me the answer to life. I still don't have a good poker face now, and I know back then it was just terrible.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?"

"Yeah, Mom." I nodded, forcing myself to smile. She watched me for a moment, but then shrugged and started the van. My back pressed into the seat as the car jolted forward briefly before smoothly turning out onto the road. I couldn't think. My brain just wouldn't work. How was I supposed to explain Riku? And how was he feeling now—was he scared now that we were leaving the gas station and couldn't reach his parents? It was his own fault, but I didn't want to see him cry or anything.

"Kah—chu!"

Boy, Riku had a girly sneeze. Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror and I quickly wiped my nose, sniffing. "Are you coming down with a cold, Sora?" she asked, her eyes concerned.

"No. I'm okay."

"Okay, honey." But her voice rose and fell with doubt.

I looked up in time to see our house before we pulled into the driveway, and I knew Riku would be in all kinds of trouble. At least I wouldn't be. I hoped.

Mom got out of the car, closing the door behind her, and I slipped out of my seat, Riku following close behind. "You're gonna be in so much trouble," I warned him, opening the side door and jumping down.

"No I'm not."

There was a faint jingle as Mom searched for the right key, since she was standing at the front door with her back to us. We made it all the way to the middle of the front porch before she turned around and froze, looking like a ghost had just popped out of the ground. "Sora," she began in a voice that shook with anger as she approached. "What's going on? Who in the name of—"

At this point I broke in with the first thing that popped into my head. "Can I keep him, Mom?"

She looked stunned for a moment, and then suddenly began to laugh, bringing one hand to her face. "Sora, Sora, Sora," she murmured, shaking her head. "I'm still not sure what's going on, so I need answers, kid," she addressed Riku. "Do your parents know you're out here?"

"Yes," he replied smoothly, shooting me a knowing look.

I froze. "Bu—"

"Then I'll let you stay until eight. But only if your parents said it was all right."

"They did, ma'am." It alarmed me that Riku could lie this easily.

So we went inside and had hot cocoa and a grand old time right up until the police came and Riku and I both got into huge, steaming mounds of a certain kind of trouble. I got spanked, lost TV privileges for a month, and had to write "I will not kidnap other boys" about a thousand times because Mom used to be a teacher. Riku, as I soon found out, got off without much ado.

"It's happened before," he told me nonchalantly when we went out on the beach later and sat on the paopu tree, which was my usual hangout. "But last time I got caught before they drove away."

"Isn't it scary?" I asked him. "What if they drove away and didn't bring you back to your mom and dad?"

He made a disbelieving sound. "They wouldn't do that. Nobody does that."

"Yeah they do." By now I was balancing along the paopu tree, not paying as much attention to the conversation as to my balance. "I read about it on television."

Riku started to say something and stopped, apparently trying to figure out if that was possible. He forfeited the effort with a simple, "Well, it's not gonna happen to me."

"It could."

"It won't." He leaned back against the tree so that I almost stepped on his face. "I'm too cute."

I started laughing and fell off the tree, managing to hurt myself. He stared for a moment and started to laugh. At this time I was already at the point of tears, but his laughter only made me cry harder. "I'm sorry, Sora," he said, trying to stifle his mirth. "It was just so funny. You tilted a little, and then—" He broke off into guffaws.

Standing, I wiped away the tears with the back of my hand. "You're mean, Riku!" I protested, clenching my fists and frowning. "I hope somebody does take you away! I hope they take you far away, and never bring you back!"

And I ran away down the beach, still crying.

I

I was sorry, of course, but I didn't say so. I hadn't planned to, either. But when he came over with cookies and we talked and generally had fun, I guess we kind of forgave each other. Neither of us really said we were sorry, but we knew in our hearts that we were, and so we let it go.

Riku became the brother I never had. He slept over at my house almost every day of the week some months, and when I finally agreed to stay over at his house, he let me bring my night-light and we had a big battle against the darkness and its creations. That might be the most vivid memory I have of him, standing there looking so frail and weak, but waving the wooden sword around all the same and shouting, "Come on, you stupid dragon! Just try to take our light away—I'll beat you up so bad you won't know it!"

And I was curled up on the bed, laughing even though I wasn't sure if that made sense. He would join me then, and the bed wasn't a bed, it was a fort. Our fort. Our stronghold against the darkness. And Riku was mine—my light. It's a bit ironic to think about him like that, since he always seems so reclusive and almost gothic around other people. But he was the light that shone for me in the darkness.

Kairi came into our lives one November evening when I was studying for a test in fifth grade. She was my study partner, a pretty redhead with big purple eyes. Once I asked her why they were purple, and she got upset because people usually made fun of her. I got confused, though—I was expecting her to say, "Just 'cause."

To us, Kairi was a mystery that could never fully be explored. And she told me that Riku seemed so dark and mysterious to her, which threw me off because he always seemed so…Riku. Just Riku.

The thing that always threw me, though, was that Riku and his parents would, every other year, fly far away over an ocean to a city. There, they would meet with Aunt Muffy, his father's sister. I would receive post cards and calls and sometimes presents from Riku, but it wasn't the same as having him at home. Every year I worried. Maybe the plane would crash. Maybe they would get held up for days and decide to just live with Aunt Muffy instead of come home. Maybe they would get stuck in the terminal and have to survive off bread crumbs and mice.

As I got older, the concerns diminished somewhat. I was less worried about people getting stuck in terminals and more worried about plane crashes. I heard that a plane nearly crashed into one of the big buildings in the city once, and that just sent me over the edge. It was the picture of paralyzing terror to me. Before then, I hadn't even thought of something like that happening, so I grabbed Riku and cried until I got them to cancel the trip that year.

Their return home was always a tremendous relief, so it was understandable that I was nervous today, the day Riku was leaving to go to Aunt Muffy's by himself. He'd already flown alone a few times now that Mr. Yume's job was demanding more of him and Mrs. Yume had complications with flying, but the thought still put me on edge.

So I found myself sitting on Riku's bed, looking at the usual tulip-decorated luggage and thinking about him being high up in the sky as usual. I mean, I knew he was taller than me, but this was ridiculous.

"Riku!" I shouted just to shout it. Where was he, anyway? I'd been waiting for him for about a half-hour already.

He entered from the hallway, dressed up in a red turtleneck (with the sleeves cut off, of course—Riku absolutely couldn't tolerate sleeves) and the tight black pants Kairi begged him to wear once. "Do I look good?" he asked in a lisp that was meant to sound as though he was gay.

"Riku," I groaned.

"Yeth I do. I look goooood." He posed in the mirror a bit, flicking his hair up so that it caught the light and glimmered softly in that rainbow of colors.

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "You better change into something else," I told him.

"Or what?" At least the lisp was gone.

"Or I'll attack you and bite off your nipples."

"Just like the beaver!" he remarked before approaching to go through his remaining wardrobe.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes. His light interest had moved on to near obsession.

"How's this?" he asked, showing me the yellow sleeveless shirt. His favorite, if I'm not mistaken.

"The pants, Riku, the pants!" I protested, covering my eyes and falling back onto the bed. "I can see stuff I don't want to."

"That'th the point." Great. Return of the lisp. But from the sound of it, he was slipping into something different.

When I looked up, he was wearing the black jeans that he usually wore with the blue poufy things. "They'd look kind of goofy at the airport," he admitted, holding them up. They flopped somewhat unattractively.

I gestured wordlessly to my usual red jumper.

"Your choice, not mine."

Making a dismissive noise, I waved a hand and looked toward the stairs. I was expecting Kairi to walk in any minute so she could be loud and annoying and try to corner me away from Riku. Fun, fun, fun. But that didn't happen and I reveled in my remaining moments alone with him.

"I can't wait to get started on Latin next year," he remarked, flipping through the booklet he'd received to prepare himself for it. "Mr. Katsuya is supposed to be a very good teacher, and I'll be able to somewhat understand about five different languages!"

I was a bit distracted at the time, busily working at a loose thread in his blanket. "Oh—what, the class?" I asked.

"Nope. The country." Riku flashed the victory signal. "Here's Your Sign."

Groaning, I leaned back on the bed. "You're mean."

"You are too. But I'm still gonna miss you."

Mr. Yume walked in right when Riku had seized me in a bear hug and lifted me off the floor, squirming and yelping. "Boys, settle down," he said more out of habit than anything else. Riku turned smoothly, depositing me on the floor by the biggest, baddest bag of luggage.

"That one's yours."

"You wish."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Yume had walked in like a puppy dog following its master, fussing over her husband even though he looked about as perfect as he could possibly get. She was a short woman, shorter than Riku, and round and a little squishy. I used to think of her as a marshmallow whenever I hugged her, but now her pinkish face was beginning to wrinkle and the blonde hair was white at the roots. She always smelled of the cream and mint cakes she used to make when Riku and I were younger; never too much mint like some of the store products, but just a light enough coating to be pleasant.

By contrast, Mr. Yume was tall, lean, and somewhat imposing. His hair had been gray for as far back as I could remember, but he had Riku's eyes and practiced gait. Riku's parents seemed almost like two cartoon characters to me, so out of proportion to one another but vibrant and in love all the same.

"Be nice to your aunt, dear," she said to Riku, fixing an invisible hair that had sprung out of place on Mr. Yume's head.

"I know, Mom."

"Mind your manners, look both ways before you cross the street, don't lose your plane ticket—"

"I know, Mom! I've been through this already," he reminded her, now a bit defensive at having to be treated like a kid.

She smiled at him, her eyes misty. "That's right," she replied in a soft voice, touching the silver strands lightly. "You've grown up already. I keep forgetting—it seems like just yesterday you were slipping into other people's cars."

"He still does," I put in, earning a harsh shove. I retaliated, and we were well on our way to a good old-fashioned brawl when his mom just had to get in the way. She shushed us with professional motherliness, honed through the fifteen years of raising Riku, and quickly pulled a comb through Riku's hair. While Riku and his father chatted about flight arrangements, Mrs. Yume, with nothing better to do, decided to tame my hair. I grimaced as she worked the comb through the prickly strands. If I hated anything about my appearance, it was the hair that simply refused to cooperate. Not only that, it stuck out in almost every direction imaginable (except down), and this moved people to hang things on the ends of the strands so that I turned into a walking Christmas tree. Riku, naturally, had invented and later patented the art of Sora-decorating.

"Baggage claim!" she said to Riku suddenly, turning on him and waving the comb like a weapon. A very pointy weapon. "You know what your baggage looks like, don't you?"

"Mom," Riku groaned, pointing to the tulip design.

"She's just worried, son," Mr. Yume added. "I mean you've got, what, your CD player, your Gameboy, your iPod, all of that in there. That stuff costs money, remember."

"I know, Dad," Riku replied in a quick, uncomfortable voice. He recognized the look his mother was giving him—it was The Look, the one that said, "Turn over all the valuable electronics. Now." He shot her an apologetic look, gesturing to the big bag next to me. "They're all wedged between my socks and the alarm clock," he told her, indicating that it would be a painstaking task to extricate them now.

Her eyes softened, since she apparently remembered that he would be gone for a month and would therefore miss all his precious video games and music. "All right then, dear. Just be careful with it, and don't you dare lose your luggage."

"I won't, Mom," he promised, leaning down so she could peck him on the cheek.

"In that case, we'd better get going," Mr. Yume told us, starting for the bags.

I leaned down and grabbed the one in front of me, forgetting that it was the biggest and the baddest. As I straightened, my arms started burning right away and my spine let out a squeak in protest. "Oof," I grunted, letting it slide back to the floor in the hope that it wouldn't crush my toes on the way down. "You'd better double check, Riku," I said to him in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think you forgot the kitchen sink."

"Hey, now, I could've packed the laptop, but I didn't," he pointed out, jabbing a thumb in the direction of his desk where said laptop was folded neatly and unplugged. "I was thinking of you and your skinny spine."

"Shut your face, Riku!" I rubbed my back, wincing a bit and looking at the laptop. It was a beautiful Dell he'd gotten for his birthday a couple months ago, with CD burner and DVD player. That and a lot of other stuff, but I wasn't sure what all of it was. "I'm getting it when you die," I stated flatly, reaching down to heft the bag again.

"Fine. Too bad I'm not gonna die."

Mr. Yume looked up just then, seeing me struggling with the huge bag. "Don't sprain anything, sport. I'll get that for you."

Now, see, it's very annoying to be called "sport." Especially since I'm not particularly good at sports. But I relinquished the bag to him anyway, knowing I would probably cause a major disaster and possible injury going down the stairs.

I grabbed my hoodie as we passed the coat rack, and Mrs. Yume stopped at the doorway, waiting for us to put away the bags before she embraced Riku. While I waited in the car, they exchanged their goodbyes and she stood up on tiptoe to kiss her husband.

Riku joined me, only he sat in the passenger seat instead of in the back with me, so I moved to where I could allow him the pleasure of having his seat kicked every so often. "I'm really gonna miss you, Riku," I told him even as we drove to the airport. "Kairi's gonna miss you, too, and Tidus and Wakka and probably Selphie. But I'm gonna miss you like hell."

"Language," Mr. Yume chided from the driver's seat.

"Sorry, sir," I apologized promptly, knowing that settled the situation with no blood shed. Not like when I was eight and stupid. "I'm gonna really, really, really miss you."

"I can't stay home, Sora."

"Aunt Muffy's getting old," Mr. Yume said to Riku, even though I knew he was talking to me indirectly. "This is probably the last time you'll get to see her. So you can look forward to him staying home, Sora."

I suddenly felt empty inside, as though I'd said something wrong. Mr. Yume had to know I didn't know his sister was getting on so far in years. But it was possible he had forgotten. "I-I'm sorry, sir," I told him sincerely. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"It's all right, sport," he replied, glancing up at me once in the rearview mirror. "You just never know. Death gets us all at one time or another, and you don't know who's going to slip out of your life next. Once they do, it's never enough. You never said enough and you never did enough and you were just never close enough. Life isn't enough."

And I knew what he was talking about. My cousin, almost exactly my age at the time, had died one year just before Christmas. I can only remember us staring into the mirror once, remarking at our similarities. Him, with his blond, spiky hair that was so much like mine, and my cobalt blue eyes that were just a little less silvery. Once he was gone, it just wasn't enough. We didn't sit in front of that mirror for long enough.

There was a silence as the car continued down the road. It was the same car—exactly the same. Riku's parents hadn't yet changed it out, even though they were better off financially than most. But it was the purple car that I had first seen when we drove up to the gas station ten years ago. The inside was brownish, though, and that seemed to offset the purple just a bit, but I'd grown accustomed to it over the years.

We arrived at the airport and opened the doors, Mr. Yume clicking the keypad so that the trunk opened up. I pulled out one of the bags and it landed rather painfully on my foot, making me shout something that sounded vaguely profane. Even I'm not sure what exactly I said, but whatever it was brought Riku to my side. "Did you break anything?"

"No, I'm okay," I told him, shaking my foot out a bit. I'd half-expected him to burst out laughing or something, since he was right there when I made the dumb move of pulling too hard, and the situation was beginning to look funny even to me. But maybe he thought I'd get sensitive about it, and he didn't want to get me upset. After all, it's a bad idea to fracture bonds just before a long trip. Then I'd be worried sick and I wouldn't be able to call. I'd probably develop a medical condition, knowing me.

We stepped into the flurry of activity, waiting in line for a very long time before we dropped off the four bags to be checked. Riku slung the fifth over his shoulder while Mr. Yume made the final arrangements, and then we were free to wander about for two hours, even if Mr. Yume insisted that Riku be at the gate in thirty minutes.

I sat down on one of the seats lining a fountain near a coffee shop, gazing dully in the distance. I didn't want to be separated from Riku. Not after that dream—that vivid, frightening dream.

"Thirsty?" he asked me, walking into my line of vision. He looked very tall now, taller than I remembered, and his hair was gleaming softly in the lights so far above us. I took only a moment to notice this before I caught sight of the milkshake in his hand and grew eager.

He sat down next to me, the scent of the sea washing over me as he did. Riku always smelled like the sea, and faintly of paopu. Probably because he spent so much time sitting out there. As usual, he'd bought a jelly roll. About two years ago, he was addicted to the things. He wouldn't join me on the beach until he'd eaten one.

While I sipped on the milkshake, listening to the sounds of the harried flyers, I considered the dream further. "Riku," I said finally, and he turned to look at me, two aquamarine eyes shining with mild curiosity. "Remember the dream I told you about?"

"The one where your pancake was trying to eat you?"

"No!" I replied forcefully, strongly tempted to shove him. But that would put my precious milkshake in danger, so it was something I simply couldn't do. "The other one. The one with the doors." Doors that slammed shut with Riku behind them.

His face fell then, and he looked away, chewing thoughtfully on the jelly roll. A fragment of it had fallen and was suspended on his cheek, near the eyes that stared up into the lights as though seeking an answer from them. With all the light glinting throughout his eyes and hair, he looked almost like an angel. So different from that version in the dream.

"I'm worried," I confided finally. "That dream was just so real, and I don't want…I don't want anything to happen to you."

He was looking down by now, having wiped away the crumb, and wrapped his arms around one leg idlely. "It was just a dream," he reminded me, but it seemed like he was also trying to convince himself. "Only a dream. Nothing like that would ever really happen, Sora. I'll be okay. I do this all the time."

I sighed, still anxious for some reason. The milkshake ran low and I pulled the top off, stirring it with the straw. Without completely realizing it, I leaned my head against Riku's shoulder, forcing the last few sips through the straw.

"It can't come out if you chew on the straw," he said then, even without glancing over.

Realizing this, I glanced at the end and saw that it was frayed from my habit. I always chewed on the straw when I got agitated. I really needed to stop that. " 'S empty," I told him. The empty paper cup made a hollow sound on the wall of the trashcan next to me.

"I'll be fine. I wish you wouldn't worry, Sora. Then you make me feel bad," he explained, looking into my eyes again.

I smiled quickly, the same awkward grin I turned on everyone no matter what. "Sorry, Riku. I'll try not to be so pessimistic."

"That's right. I need you optimistic, all the time!" he added, giving me a light punch to the shoulder.

I had planned to retort with something that would incite a brawl, but instead I ran my fingers lightly over one strand of his hair, relishing in the softness and the silk. It seemed like his hair was always perfect, even though I knew he only pulled a comb through it every morning and then generally left it up to fate. "People're gonna think weird thoughts," he warned me when I continued, not wanting to relent just yet. That caught me off guard and I quickly pulled away, feeling somewhat disappointed.

"Okay, son," Mr. Yume said as he approached us. "Time to get to the gate."

Riku glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna be sitting there for an hour and a half!" he complained. "Can't I stay with Sora for just a little longer?"

"They're likely to reschedule," his father replied. "From what I've heard, the plane's making an early return. I don't want you to miss your flight."

Sighing, Riku got to his feet and I followed, dread filling my stomach. I hated the prospect of driving back without Riku, going home to face a whole month without Riku, everything about leaving without him. "This is as far as we can go," Mr. Yume told him. "I didn't get gate passes this time, so you'll have to go the rest of the way on your own. You won't get lost, now, will you?"

"I know the way, Dad."

"All right, then. You're at Gate 15."

"Right."

"You're coming home on flight four-thirty-seven, nine-thirty P.M. sharp."

"Gotcha."

"Don't lose this ticket."

"Nope."

Mr. Yume nodded with his eyes sparkling with pride, giving Riku a fatherly pat on the back. "I'll see you in a month, son. Remember to call."

"I will."

Again, I had planned to say a quick goodbye and not get wrapped up in it, but I found myself with my arms locked around him, face buried in his chest. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Riku," I said, looking up into his eyes and blinking back tears. "You get back here safe, okay?"

"You know I will, Sora. Somebody's gotta take care of you." He smiled, resting a hand on my head, and his eyes softened in understanding. "I'm coming back," he said in a softer voice. "I promise."

He hugged me back and we parted, me feeling incomplete as though part of me had stayed with him. He started away, stopping once and waving. In that moment, the light from the window shone directly on him, burning that silhouette into my memory: hair shining, fingers delicately parted, and the usual smirk that I couldn't see but I knew was there. Then he was gone.