shooting star
disclaimer: i don't own golden sun either.
a/n: ah, steamshipping. adorable. other pairings are valeshipping, oldersiblingshipping, and windshipping. i only added oldersiblingshipping because otherwise it would be lighthouseshipping and poor ivan would be left out. piers is, anyway. oh well, how about he returns to lemuria and finds a nice girl he likes?
her eyes shine like the rare stars in the midnight sky, blue in a sea of reds and greens and pinks and browns and blacks. her hair waterfalls down her back, looking soft in the moonlight, silvery aqua like the moonlight itself made liquid, because surely nothing as fine as her hair could be solid. her skin is the fairest of fair, with just the slightest trace of pink; how it is so pale after hours in the sun mystifies him.
she is perfect. he is not.
everything about him seems overlarge and out of place. his hair cuts through the sky with a contrasting dagger. his eyes burn with many things and his skin is darker, tanned, calloused. he feels so clumsy and out of proportion next to her.
he takes her hand. it is soft and pure like silk, but his is rough and brown, like a rucksack. he tries to drop her hand, feeling out of place, but she won't let it go; her grip is not as gentle as you might think. her fragile appearance is betrayed by her eyes, which, though beautiful, have a fierce light in them, a determined light, and yet she is still kind and soft.
he looks around. the others are nearby, but not too close to intrude on this moment. the entwined hands of the redhaired girl and the boy with the spiky blond hair catches his eye; they seem perfect and made to be standing like that, eternal figuirines, a pair. a tall redhaired girl is leaning on the tall, dark boy who deserves the title of man; his features soften as he smiles. they, too, are perfect. a blond boy is seen perched on the roof, holding the hands of a girl with the same color hair; their cheeks are both flushed. even the tall man with the hair the shade of the waves seems fine how he is, standing alone.
she looks up at him and he feels nervous. surely the others do not have these awkward moments. he is always the clumsy one. she whispers something, and he is so caught up in the sound of her voice it takes a moment for him to understand her meaning.
"look," she murmurs, "a shooting star."
obediently, he looks. the star is brilliant, but it does not compare to her. he tells her so. "you're perfect," he says, with complete honesty, as always.
she leans against him and suddenly he feels no different from the others, no different from isaac, looking at jenna so tenderly, no different from felix, holding kay with his strong arms, no different from ivan, speaking softly to sheba. "you're perfect too," she replies, and he discovers something.
"i am when i'm with you."
a/n: that was so fluffy it hurts. review. please.