Somehow, punching the crap out of a sandbag wasn’t quite the same as cutting down Heartless with his keyblade. But it would have to do for now. It’s not like there were any enemies around and attacking Sora would be rather counter-productive.
The fact that Sora could and would kick his ass might have something to do with it, too.
Besides, Sora wasn’t the one he was angry with. Sora wasn’t the one who fucked up. It had been Riku who’d been the idiot.
It was always Riku.
His frown deepened and Riku’s fists flew harder at the punching bag. He felt the seams strain under the pressure but they held. A few grains of sand spilled on the floor. He’d have to sweep those up later, damn it.
Sora probably wasn’t going to forgive him this time. Sora had a heart bigger than anyone Riku had ever met, but even his mercy had its limits. Riku was always fucking up. Even the nicest of people would get tired of that after a while. Tired of Riku.
His chest heaved, breath coming in sharp bursts, sweat dripping to the ground. His face was hot, his clothes soaked, and all he wanted to do was punch something. He wanted to punch himself but that wouldn’t really work.
It was a stupid song, Riku realized, though he wasn’t listening to it so much as it was playing around him. It reflected his mood though. It just wasn’t loud enough to drown out his thoughts.
A simple blast of Fire would put this sand bag out of commission for good, but then what would he pummel?
Riku exhaled sharply, whirled around the bag, and landed another barrage of blows.
The music cut off in the middle of the final chorus and Riku startled, whirling toward the door at the sudden absence of sound.
Sora was standing there, remote in hand, giving him a look with both eyebrows raised. “I knew you had terrible taste, but really, Riku? Stephen Lynch?”
He swiped the back of his hand over his forehead. “It seemed appropriate.”
“Mm.” Sora made a non-committal noise, leaning against the frame of the doorway. “I think you could do better.”
Riku fiddled with his boxing gloves, for lack of words. “There’s probably a lot I could do better since I’m terminally a fuck up.”
“Wow, when you go emo, you really commit to it, don’t you?”
Riku’s gaze jerked up, his jaw dropping. “What?”
Sora pushed off the frame, stepping into the room, his gaze darting between the sad punching bag and Riku’s sweaty frame. “When are you going to realize that I love you?”
His breath caught in his throat as it always did whenever Sora said the L word. He felt like a deer in headlights as Sora moved closer to him.
“I thought we’d gotten past this ‘fight and flight’ instinct of yours,” Sora continued with his frown that was more cute than angry. “Yeah, you pissed me off. But that kind of happens from time to time.” He reached up, patting Riku’s cheek. “Eventually, I forgive you.”
“You don’t play fair,” Riku mumbled, feeling all the anger at himself drain away. If Sora wasn’t pissed, how could he be?
Sora laughs. “When it comes to you, I can’t afford to.” He pulled Riku in for a kiss, which in their book, was all the sign that an apology had been given that Riku needed.