Kingdom Hearts fic: One Final Show

[mistressofmuses]

Summary: It's been years since Riku, working under the stage name Heartless, left to start his career as a singer. He almost took it for granted that his best friends from home quit speaking to him, and was willing to listen to his manager when she told him to cut ties and move on and surround himself with the new friends he was making. When he finds out that it was a lie, that Sora and Kairi had never stopped trying to talk to him, his career begins to crumble. He doesn't know if they'll forgive him, but he's going to perform one last show, for them.

Day 13 of AU-gust: Rock Star AU
This is another one that I think would have been fun to flesh out just a little bit more, but that I enjoyed writing.

---

They aren’t going to be here.

Riku had been telling himself as much for days. Weeks. However long it had been since he booked the venue.

And here he was, staring at his own damn show poster in what passed for a green room at this club.

Heartless
First hometown show in five years!

The rest of the tour had been cancelled, but he’d managed to beg his way into keeping this date.

His mouth was dry. Much as he would have appreciated a shot of something to blur the edges of his nerves, he reached for a water bottle. If this had been any time before two weeks ago, he’d never have been alone in the room. His “bandmates” would have been there, and they would have pressed a drink or ten into his hand. He’d be working his way beyond buzzed by the time they were even out on stage.

They aren’t going to be here.

He tried to honestly assess if he would have come, if the situation were reversed. He just couldn’t be sure. He liked to think so, but was it wishful thinking? Just trying to convince himself that they’d said yes?

They aren’t going to be here.

A knock interrupted the thought as the promoter cautiously let herself in. “They’re just about ready. Do you want to follow me?”

He stood up, and gave her what he hoped was a convincing smile. He didn’t want anyone coming away feeling like he’d been an ass to them. He followed her through the backstage hallway to the stage.

He’d be performing this show alone. Not his favorite—he’d agreed with critics in the past who disparaged shows like that as “glorified karaoke”—but his bandmates and the tour musicians all left the second he’d fired Mal. If he’d had any doubts about whether it had been the right call, that put those straight to bed. All of his so-called friends and partners vanished along with her, because of course they’d been her people. Whatever support they’d offered him had been at her direction. None of them had even reached out to check on him since.

Ironic. That was exactly what she’d accused Sora and Kairi of. “Have you noticed that neither of your so-called friends have so much as sent you a message or a phone call? Clearly they’re jealous of your new-found success. Best to cut all ties. You have new friends, now.”

He’d been naïve. She’d been “helping” him manage his social media, to cope with the new numbers of followers. He didn’t realize she’d blocked every account they tried to use to contact him. That she’d changed their numbers in his phone so that when he tried to call, the numbers had been disconnected.

But he sure knew now that those blocks had looked like they came from him.

They won’t be here.

The lights over the audience had been dimmed, but the stage lights were completely down. This might be the best view of the audience he’d have for the night. He didn’t look.

They won’t be here, but sing like they are.

---

He opened with “The Hunt,” his third single, and generally a crowd-pleaser. The song was about looking for something, hunting it down without mercy, even to destruction. The chorus flipped perspectives, becoming about the experience of being prey, of fleeing something that couldn’t be stopped.

It certainly rang truer than ever right now.

He barely even heard himself during his opening roll, introducing himself to the audience, thanking them for coming out, mentioning how glad he was to be back home. “And being back here makes me a little nostalgic, so I hope you’ll indulge me…”

That launched him into “Three of a Kind,” the first song that had ever gotten him any attention. If Sora and Kairi had come—they won’t be here—they would certainly know it. Hell, they’d helped him write it.

The lyrics spoke about slamming doors and running away, of wanting to escape a life already plotted out, but being unwilling to leave someone (or two someones) behind. If only he’d taken it more to heart.

That transitioned smoothly into “Not Yet” and then “Shadow Door,” two more from the first couple years of his career, exploring the duality between being unwilling to let go, and crossing a threshold you couldn’t come back from.

He took a quick break for some water and to talk to the audience. They were applauding and cheering at the ends of every song, even if he wasn’t giving his most engaging performance.

After he’d caught his breath, he went into “Blameless.” It was one of the most bitter songs he’d ever written, at the height of his anger at Sora and Kairi’s supposed abandonment. He’d poured it into that second album, and this song especially. Lashing out at everyone who’d hurt him, and how he himself remained blameless.

This time, he changed the chorus. Usually the line was “And you know that me, I’m blameless.” But this time…

“And you know I know you’re blameless.”

He heard the lyric change register with the audience, and a wave of surprise and a few scattered claps. And he hoped they heard it, too.

After that, he pushed through into “Cinematic” and the more down-tempo “Sundown.” He closed on “Duality,” his last single.

As the last strains of music faded, he addressed the audience again. “Thank you, all of you, for being here tonight. I know it’s the first time I’ve been back here, and I appreciate so much that you were willing to come see me. I don’t know if you know this, but this was going to be part of a tour, and became my only show.”

A murmur rippled through the audience. It was a blessing that he still couldn’t see them very well.

“And I did want to make an announcement. Heartless, as a band, and as me as an individual, is going on indefinite hiatus.”

Another rumble of commentary from the audience. Some dismay, some surprise.

“I’ve had to do some real soul-searching after finding out that my success was used to pull me away from the people I loved the most. It might be too late, even if I hope it isn’t. So I have one new song that I want to debut, but then I’m going to take a break from this.”

The new song was “The Sea and The Sky.” It was a bit more emotional than most of his newer songs tended to be. It was about a man who’d gone exploring, and how he’d lost his connection to the sea and the sky. He spent all of his time wanting to get back, but not being sure they’d still be there for him.

It wasn’t the most subtle metaphor Riku had ever written, but he didn’t want it to be. He wanted them to know. They aren’t here.

After the song died away, the lights went down. He thanked the audience again, and barely managed to make it off the stage.

---

He stayed in the green room far longer than he should have. He should have gone out to the bar, mingled with the audience, especially after dropping the news of his indefinite hiatus. But he was afraid to find out for sure that Sora and Kairi weren’t there. If he never confirmed it, he could pretend that they’d seen his apology, and could pretend they understood.

He’d invited them. Discovered their blocked accounts, unblocked them, sent them an apology and an invitation. He’d guestlisted them with the club. He could have asked the doorman if they’d come in, but that would have removed his ability to be in pleasant denial.

Finally the promoter knocked again, and asked if he was all right. He numbly assured her that he was, that he was just feeling off-balance after making his announcement.

Her expression softened. “Do you want me to walk you to your car?”

It was an odd inversion of the way that offer usually went, but he was grateful that she’d asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.” He almost asked if anyone had been looking for him, but stopped himself at the last minute.

The club had all but emptied out, and he was able to slip out the side door without anyone cornering him. His rental car was parked on the street alongside the venue. Upside to having refused to drink; at least he didn’t have to rely on anyone else to get him to his hotel.

There were two people leaning on the passenger side of the car, engaged in quiet conversation with each other. As the door to the club clicked behind him, they both looked up.

The streetlight was dim, the yellow sodium lights washing out all color, but he still got the impression of blue and indigo eyes fixing on his.

He’d been trying to think of what to say to them, writing and discarding speeches, simple apologies, explanations… He’d told himself that he was good with words, that he’d know what to say when it was time. That had been a lie.

He let out one strangled syllable, which might have been an attempt at ‘Hi’, before both of them had rushed toward him.

He was pulled into the most forceful hug he’d had in years.

Sora tightened his arms around Riku’s shoulders. “We’ve missed you so much.”

Kairi spoke up from where her cheek was resting on his chest, “I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

He unfroze enough to wrap his arms around them in turn. “We do.”