A drabble for the jackoneill100 challenge: Fireworks.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Implied J/D slash..
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He didn't notice it at first, as engrossed as he was in the spectacle taking place oh-so-far above them. The sky, usually so dark, honestly, was lit up in a dazzling array of diamond-colors: blues and greens, and reds and silvers. And then the color, so incredible and amazing, would fade, would die, and a few seconds later, be once again reborn, a phoenix of the night.
But, in those few seconds of grave-silence, like mountain-mist, the stars would appear, soundless guardians of the dark, to his revelation.
He hadn't realized it until then, hadn't noticed, hadn't thought to notice. But, when he did, when he become aware of the strange, not unpleasant, pressure around his hand, he paled slightly, unnoticed in the shadow-night, and stopped breathing for a half-second.
And the dark, midnight sky exploded once more, exploded and glowed and burned, forever, timeless.
And their hands were entwined, as perfect, as right together as the moon and shadows, the wind and rain.
And he grinned, that eternal, reckless and daring, and just so perfect smile for the whole night to see.
And it was just so beautiful. So right.
Complete.
And he gripped just a bit tighter.
And he said just one thing. One word. As the world imploded around them, he whispered, brokenly, lovingly.
Just one word:
"Beautiful."
And it was.