Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
Warning: Sokairiku and a little bit of confusion near the end. Also, I italicisized and bolded and underlined the crap outta this and I hope that it isn't too bad.
Other: One of the first ones that I wrote when I was grounded, but they're all hopelessly mixed up by now. Concrit and reviews are love, especially for this one.
Snapshots
Long shot: a sunset at the beach.
The dying sun set the sky and ocean on fire, golds and reds pushing back the blues.
He watched the sunset, watched his two childhood friends talk and talk and talk as the sun died and the night took its place, moonless and twinkling with stars.
He watched and watched and watched, past midnight and sunrise, guarding them from the shadows that the night brought, but from a distance.
Always from a distance.
Medium shot: a crowded school cafeteria.
The noisy students bought and ate their lunches, all the while talking talking talking, enough to make anyone go deaf (or wish to).
He watched them all, a slight smile on his face (he didn't even notice it: he was used to smiling all the time); after all, they were all safe.
He waited a few minutes before making his escape, out the door and down the hall, up some stairs and across the roof, looking through a window at the same cafeteria he had just left.
He watched his two best friends, her smiling like the sea (all sunlight on water and warm, playful friendliness) and him laughing like the land laughs (loud and important and double-take-worthy, an earthquake without damage), watched them from above and grinned at them.
He didn't tell them about it later.
Close up: the end of a sparring match.
They were sweating and panting and laughing, lost in their own world of land and sky and forgiveness and redemption.
She watched them, sitting on a wooden roof and kicking her legs, back and forth, back and forth, silently cheering on both boys on and smiling all the while.
She watched, seeing seeing seeing everything with accepting eyes, seeing her two favorite people in all the worlds find their own happiness in words and taunts and grins.
She saw all of it, and hopped down after a bit. If they wanted to get drunk off of happy memories, then she'd have to row them home.
She didn't mention it later.
Extreme close up: holding hands.
His hands were rough, kinda like sand but more like a sturdy, chipped rock.
Her hands were light, kinda like raindrops but more like seawater cradled in closed palms.
His hands were warm, kinda like summer's sky but more like the crisp noon horizon of autumn.
When they held hands, he would squeeze them and he would swing them and she would rub her thumb in small circles over whoever's hand she was holding. And they walked together, always together, always towards some distant horizon where land met sea met sky.
They ended up at the beach, laying down, hands clasped, and that was close enough.