Word count: 746
A/N: Originally written for my 30kisses asukira claim, which I later dropped. (#8: "our own world")
Dim Life
As they stepped into the dim, suffused glow of the tent, all the excitement and noisy racket of the carnival fell away behind them. The dark, heavy curtains draped lazily around the room seemed to trap sound in its thick, rich folds, making their nervous footsteps seem muted as they turned around in circles, gazing in awe at the exotic finery around them. Slung carelessly in a corner of gold and silver trinkets, was a shawl of white thread and multicoloured glass droplets. Its irregular beads glimmered like a spray of fat, lumpy stars. The dull, dusty feathers and lopsided plastic eyes of a stuffed parrot leered at them from above, looking like it had been there for eternity, and would stay there forever still. The ceiling dangled tiny translucent plastic stars, their shades of crimson, aqua, and lemon flashing dimly as they swung, back and forth, back and forth.
And just beyond it all, a single black curtain, foreboding in its simplicity, kept the second room hidden.
Kira beckoned. He took a step forward, entranced by the pale yellow light emanating from a white crystal ball, eyes lingering on the short, stubby, and fiercely scented candles arranged around it. They weren't lit; but even so, Kira felt wary, doubtful of touching them. The round table was covered with rich blue velvet that slid off the ends and collapsed in shadowy folds upon the ground. It looked bottomless. He nearly tripped. Surreptitiously, Kira drew a little closer to his friend, excitement and fear twisting into one enormous emotion that left his heart pounding.
He reached. The crystal ball, though uninspiring and plain compared to everything else in the room, was the most fascinating of all the objects he had seen. Kira wondered if it was as warm as it looked. Perhaps it felt like the hot chocolate he had that windy winter day, flurries racing across the window as his fingers grasped the warm blue mug, painted upon with swift, black strokes. He felt Athrun moving, as well, beside him; shoulders and hips bumping, both pairs of hands reached toward the tiny sphere. It was no larger than the palm of his hand.
His snow globe. He hesitated for a brief second, swept away by the memory. White flakes fell and stuck to the insides of the watery glass every time he shook it, its innards filled with a gloopy blue-tinted liquid.
Their wrists bumped as they met their destination. Kira's cheeks grew hot as he felt Athrun's hand curling gently over his own, trapping it under the kiss of Athrun's skin and above the tepid sphere's foggy surface. Smiling a subdued smile at his friend, Kira turned to gaze inquiringly at the snow-coloured ball, and laughed quietly, biting his lip. Suddenly the world ceased to exist: for there was no sound, no light, nor living presence beyond them. There was only the two of them shut off in their small, dark, pungent tent; and Kira recalled whispering fiercely to Athrun as he lit a single flashlight under the sheets, illuminating the black and white manga spread in a ghostly world that was theirs alone.
He started. The rustle of black silk made him jump, and step backwards: back over the blue velvet, carefully over the uneven edges, and onto firm ground. Kira nearly tripped a second time, but Athrun gripped his waist just in time; and before they knew it, the kind, soft-spoken lady was calling them over, spreading a handful of intricate numinous cards upon the table. A long, twisted candlestick fell to the ground with a clatter, making Kira jump. Yet, once again, Athrun had one strong, reassuring hand clasped around Kira's elbow, telling him it was all right. The lady pulled a silver chain the boys hadn't noticed, igniting a light bulb above their heads, and transformed the comforting, mysterious darkness into a different reality. She welcomed them, and patted the stools beside her, speaking cheerfully.
Kira and Athrun clambered forwards. Holding on to each other briefly before letting go, each climbed onto a three-legged stool and ogled curiously at the cards. Kira laughed, and pulled Athrun toward him, pointing and chattering animatedly. The silence of the darkness slipped away as silently as a dream, and left no residue except a single, scattered memory, one that they would later clutch to when things fell apart. Within that feather of a memory, they would later agree: that the world still felt manageable, then.