Quietude
The dock sways rhythmically beneath them as the water laps against its sides. The sky above is inky black, dotted with a thousand stars, and unbeknownst to the two boys, thousands of human lives are carried out above their heads.
But they are content in the moment. Kira is fingering the soft fleece blanket as he stares into the heavens, his breathing even and his eyes fluttering as he picks out the constellations. Besides him, Athrun is watching his fidgeting hand, taking in the other boy's profile and feeling nostalgic about days past.
Theirs is a childhood intimacy, forged with years of friendship and love; tainted with years of confusion and anger. Yet they've overcome their differences and deepened their bond, until each is sure that nothing can rip them apart. Maybe they're right, and maybe they're wrong, but for now, Athrun is content in the knowledge that for a little longer, Kira is his.
"What do you see?" Athrun rolls on his side and captures Kira's fingers. Kira's eyelashes flutter again as he trains his gaze on his friend, a serene smile spreading slowly across his face.
"A future," he confides softly. "A future for coordinators, and a future for naturals."
'A future for us?' Athrun wants to ask, but doesn't, instead squeezing Kira's fingers. An owl hoots in the distance as Athrun props himself up on his elbow, smoothing Kira's hair and kissing his forehead. In response Kira sighs softly, smiling broader as Athrun strokes his cheek.
"Do you remember when our parents took us camping?"
"The first time? Yeah."
They had been seven then, rambunctious and troublesome, two terrors running through the woods of the Earth. It had been Athrun's first time on Earth, and he remembers the vivid smells of the pine and the soil, and the way Kira would laugh as he plucked an earthworm from its burrow after the rain.
This experience they share now is something entirely new. There are no parents, no rules. They have a tent in the clearing by the lake, and a fire not too far away where they cook dinner and reminisce about the past. As children, they hadn't been old enough to stay up and gaze at the blanket of stars. Now they can spend all night under the twinkling canopy, hands clasped and voices thick with wonder.
Athrun rests his head on Kira's chest. The violet-eyed boy toys with his hair, gazing upward again and losing himself to personal thoughts. They fall asleep that way, curled on the old fleece blanket, breathing in time to the sway of the dock.
Overhead the stars keep watch, dancing in time to the rotation of the Earth.