(no subject)
Rem, I know this is way overdue, but I hope you enjoy this, nonetheless.
Happy Belated Birthday ^.^
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Genre(s): General
Rating: G
Warnings: None. Don't have to know the fandom really to read this.
Summary: Being a grown up is a lot more complicated than Riku ever thought.
"So. I'm ten years old today," stated the silver-haired boy as he strode back and forth in front of his bed. "And, uh, things are gonna change. I'm...I'm a grown-up now and that means no more kiddie sailboat wallpaper around the room. Or lots of sweets and cookies right before bed. Or...or..."
The last one struggled to escape his tongue. His eyes fell onto the handful of stuffed toys waiting for him on top of his pillow. They stared at him with sad, accusatory eyes as if they knew what was coming next.
He gulped, gathering his courage and said, "Or stuffies. I'm sorry," he added quickly, "but it must be done. Grown-ups don't have stuffies on their beds, especially not ones that are old and have been sewn back together millions of times.
"And since I can't rip off the wallpaper just yet or Mom'll kill me, and the only sweets we have in the house is my birthday cake--and it's completely okay to have too because it's MY cake--the only thing I can do is put you guys away for good. Even throw you out or give you away. Mom's friend just had a baby, so I can probably give you guys to her."
The plan didn't quite settle well in his mind--or his stomach, really--but how else could he show he was ready to go over to the islands by himself? He sighed and turned away from all those eyes, feeling each and every one of them as he left the room. It might as well have been a death sentence he just delivered to his stuffed friends.
He’d taken a few boxes from his parents’ closet and stacked them outside his door earlier in the day. Looking at them now, he likened them to cardboard prisons with no windows and only one way in or out. Squatting down, he grabbed around the bottom box and slowly stood, balancing them carefully as he trekked back into his room.
One by one, he placed the stuffed animals in their prisons. Each of them gave him a look that asked, "But why? I didn’t do anything wrong."
And he’d reply, "I’m sorry," to each one as their glass bead eyes disappeared beyond the cardboard flaps.
The boxes filled up quicker than he thought they would. Frowning, he left and dug around his parents’ closet again, emptying a box of old shoes his mother never wore anymore and another one that held a couple bulky purses she never used either. He made a face at a particularly ugly pair of dress shoes that he definitely never saw before and couldn’t imagine that his mother had ever worn anything like them.
When he returned, he noticed his room felt a lot emptier than it had minutes before. In a way, sure, it looked more grown-up, but he was quickly getting the idea that grown-ups liked things bare and empty. And he wasn’t too sure he liked that.
Did that mean that everything was like that when people grew up? Did they have to give up everything for the sake of a tidy appearance? Did grown-ups really stop liking sailboat prints or stuffed animals? Was that why so many seemed so miserable because they too had to pack away their best friends?
Tenderly, he picked up his favorite teddy, an old blue bear he’d had for as long as he could remember and whose name he’d forgotten. In fact, it might’ve been the one his father got for him when he was born. It’d had its eyes sewn on so many times and the stuffing stuck out in back from a seam that’d recently started coming apart. The fur wasn’t nearly as soft as it once was. It’d been everywhere he’s been, from the different beaches in the island archipelago, to the Secret Place in a backpack when Sora wasn’t around to play with, and through the mud and mucky sand on rainy days, much to his mother’s dismay...
"All right!" he suddenly cried, squeezing the bear in his arms. "I’ll stop! I can’t do it… I can’t put you away!"
The bear secure in the crook of his arm, he grabbed the boxes and over turned them onto his bed, the occasional squeak escaping some of his more vocal stuffed friends. "You’re all staying!" he shouted jubilantly, a proud, defiant smile on his face. "Who cares if I’m a grown-up and still sleep with you guys on my bed? Huh? No one! I don’t! You’re mine and you’re never leaving again!"
With a satisfied little "Hmph!" he placed his teddy back on the bed and stood with his hands on his hips.
"Err," he said, his grin fading a little. "You might have to go in there again if, you know, if Sora comes over. He can’t see me with you guys or he’d never stop bringing it up. But the second he’s gone, you’re back on the bed! Got it? Good."
And he marched out of his room, knowing he’d made the right decision.
Happy Belated Birthday ^.^
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Genre(s): General
Rating: G
Warnings: None. Don't have to know the fandom really to read this.
Summary: Being a grown up is a lot more complicated than Riku ever thought.
"So. I'm ten years old today," stated the silver-haired boy as he strode back and forth in front of his bed. "And, uh, things are gonna change. I'm...I'm a grown-up now and that means no more kiddie sailboat wallpaper around the room. Or lots of sweets and cookies right before bed. Or...or..."
The last one struggled to escape his tongue. His eyes fell onto the handful of stuffed toys waiting for him on top of his pillow. They stared at him with sad, accusatory eyes as if they knew what was coming next.
He gulped, gathering his courage and said, "Or stuffies. I'm sorry," he added quickly, "but it must be done. Grown-ups don't have stuffies on their beds, especially not ones that are old and have been sewn back together millions of times.
"And since I can't rip off the wallpaper just yet or Mom'll kill me, and the only sweets we have in the house is my birthday cake--and it's completely okay to have too because it's MY cake--the only thing I can do is put you guys away for good. Even throw you out or give you away. Mom's friend just had a baby, so I can probably give you guys to her."
The plan didn't quite settle well in his mind--or his stomach, really--but how else could he show he was ready to go over to the islands by himself? He sighed and turned away from all those eyes, feeling each and every one of them as he left the room. It might as well have been a death sentence he just delivered to his stuffed friends.
He’d taken a few boxes from his parents’ closet and stacked them outside his door earlier in the day. Looking at them now, he likened them to cardboard prisons with no windows and only one way in or out. Squatting down, he grabbed around the bottom box and slowly stood, balancing them carefully as he trekked back into his room.
One by one, he placed the stuffed animals in their prisons. Each of them gave him a look that asked, "But why? I didn’t do anything wrong."
And he’d reply, "I’m sorry," to each one as their glass bead eyes disappeared beyond the cardboard flaps.
The boxes filled up quicker than he thought they would. Frowning, he left and dug around his parents’ closet again, emptying a box of old shoes his mother never wore anymore and another one that held a couple bulky purses she never used either. He made a face at a particularly ugly pair of dress shoes that he definitely never saw before and couldn’t imagine that his mother had ever worn anything like them.
When he returned, he noticed his room felt a lot emptier than it had minutes before. In a way, sure, it looked more grown-up, but he was quickly getting the idea that grown-ups liked things bare and empty. And he wasn’t too sure he liked that.
Did that mean that everything was like that when people grew up? Did they have to give up everything for the sake of a tidy appearance? Did grown-ups really stop liking sailboat prints or stuffed animals? Was that why so many seemed so miserable because they too had to pack away their best friends?
Tenderly, he picked up his favorite teddy, an old blue bear he’d had for as long as he could remember and whose name he’d forgotten. In fact, it might’ve been the one his father got for him when he was born. It’d had its eyes sewn on so many times and the stuffing stuck out in back from a seam that’d recently started coming apart. The fur wasn’t nearly as soft as it once was. It’d been everywhere he’s been, from the different beaches in the island archipelago, to the Secret Place in a backpack when Sora wasn’t around to play with, and through the mud and mucky sand on rainy days, much to his mother’s dismay...
"All right!" he suddenly cried, squeezing the bear in his arms. "I’ll stop! I can’t do it… I can’t put you away!"
The bear secure in the crook of his arm, he grabbed the boxes and over turned them onto his bed, the occasional squeak escaping some of his more vocal stuffed friends. "You’re all staying!" he shouted jubilantly, a proud, defiant smile on his face. "Who cares if I’m a grown-up and still sleep with you guys on my bed? Huh? No one! I don’t! You’re mine and you’re never leaving again!"
With a satisfied little "Hmph!" he placed his teddy back on the bed and stood with his hands on his hips.
"Err," he said, his grin fading a little. "You might have to go in there again if, you know, if Sora comes over. He can’t see me with you guys or he’d never stop bringing it up. But the second he’s gone, you’re back on the bed! Got it? Good."
And he marched out of his room, knowing he’d made the right decision.