“Andy’s mind skips. If he’s going to win today, he knows he has to stay focused and keep his mind boxed into the lines of the court. But the loneliness squeezes him, pushes, tightens, until he’s too small to contain it and his mind bounces out, skidding across the court like his second serve.”
Riku literally has NO CHILL when it comes to his best friend.
KH1 Riku: Oh, Sora found new friends? Fine, I’m gonna go sulk in darkness for the next few months.
COM Riku: Sora, I’ve finally learned how to handle my dark side - oh, he’s sleeping. Better go on a dangerous journey that could potentially cause darkness to take over me again just for the slightest chance of waking him up.
KH2 Riku: I’m too ashamed for you to see me like this, Sora, but I’m still going to casually stalk you and be helpful. Also, I’d be cool with spending the rest of my life on a beach in the World Between as long as it’s with you.
Coded Riku: I’m not even the real Riku and you’re not even the real Sora, but I feel very concerned about your well-being for some reason. For a journal, I seem to have an awful lot of real emotions. Weird.
358/2 Days Riku: I’m sorry that I’m being a bit of a jerk, Roxas, but Sora can’t wake up if you’re still around. You understand, right?
BBS Riku: I want to be strong so I can protect the people I care about. Sora. I’m talking about Sora.
DDD Riku: So, those two people love each other? I’m going to make blatantly obvious parallels to Sora and I. Dearly Beloved is the combined song of our souls. Sora is in trouble, I’m going to JUMP INTO HIS HEART AND SAVE HIM NO MATTER WHAT THE PERSONAL COST.
When Cas comes back, Dean falls head over heels in love with one specific part of his body that he’s never really worshipped before.
It used to be Cas’ hands, his sides, his thighs even, his ears and his soft lips and perhaps the curve of his jaw, the wrinkles around his eyes. It’s different now.
Dean, obviously, falls in love with the spot right over Cas’ heart.
He kisses it, lips against smooth skin. Drags his mouth against it. Places his hand over it - in bed and out of it, obsessed with it even through fabric. He wouldn’t admit it but he falls asleep with his cheek pressed against Cas’ chest nearly every night. In fact, it’s the only way he can sleep the first few weeks after Cas comes back.
Because there is Cas’ heart. Beating. Alive.
You know that cliche Sylvia Plath poem about listening to your own heart and it beating in the old familiar rhythm of I am, I am, I am.
Dean doesn’t care about his heart. He cares about Cas’. He listens.
And all he can think is, You are, you are, you are. Alive, and mine, and don’t leave again.