Sora didn't cry. Ever. He didn't cry when his first relationship -- with Kairi -- went belly up. He didn't cry after threatening her new boyfriend with grievous bodily harm if he dared hurt her in any way. He didn't cry when a bare chest distracted him long enough to end up with a broken arm. He didn't cry when a half hour of absence turned into an hour, then a day, then a week. He didn't cry when Kairi ran to hug him, bad news and a newspaper clipping in hand. He didn't cry when the silver haired woman next door broke down and sobbed for three days straight.
And yet, here he was, crying over a box. A pretty little box wrapped in paper and ribbon with a little gift tag hanging lightly from the centre. And not only did he cry, he shook and shuddered and snuffled and wept in the girliest and most ridiculous way possible. His face was scrunched up and red, eyes reduced to tiny, aching slits. All because of the stupid little box.
It had been sitting there, innoce