kh_drabble | (no subject)

Challenge: None
Title: Glass Bottle
Words: 467 (I know, it's kind of long. >> My apologies.)
Notes: It's a little confusing, sorry. xD Leon/Cloud with minor hints of Cloud/Aeris. (cross posted to

101_kisses.)

Sometimes I find myself wondering.

It’s normally not important; just those questions that sometimes drift through a person’s head when they’re sitting by themselves, curled on the couch and waiting for that person to get home that they always wait for, yet who never comes back.

Normally I find myself wondering about you. About if you’ll ever come back, if you’ll come back for him. About if you won, and are now content because you’ve reached a conclusion, and have no need to come back, or if, maybe, you lost, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll never get to see you again.

Those thoughts scare me.

I know you’d laugh at me. You’re probably laughing at me right now. But you worry me.

Because I don’t know what I’m going to hear about you next. I’m afraid of every person that comes from some faraway land, because I’m afraid that they just might say those few words that I don’t want to hear.

That they knew you.

That they saw you ‘fight the good fight,’ and saw how you fell in the end.

It hurts to think that.

But I know that I’m not the only one. I know that the others are worried, too, maybe more so than I am. They just know how to hide it.

He’s worried the most out of all of us, though. I can see it in those nervous glances he gives the Keyblade master as he recounts his tales of the places that he’s been, can see those silent questions burning in his ice-colored eyes.

‘Did you see him? Is he alright?’

I think he misses you just as much as I do.

Emerald green eyes stare, longingly, at the bottle clutched in soft, delicate hands, and a small grin crosses rose-colored lips as she presses a gentle kiss to the cold glass.

A kiss for good luck, to make sure he’ll find it.

She’s heard about this before. Heard about it from Sora.

“There’s this tradition back at home, on the island. Every year, everyone writes down his or her deepest thoughts, all of our hopes and our dreams, and letters to those we love, and we put them in bottles, like this one. Then we toss ‘em out into the ocean.”

“Into the ocean?”

“Yeah! So that someone can find them and help grant our wish.”

So she does just that.

The bottle drifts in the currents of the Bastion’s ocean that goes against gravity into other worlds, sea green glass spinning around and around before vanishing out of sight, toward some destination other than here.

Hopefully to him. So he knows to come back to her and back to Leon.

Because he misses him the most, and she can’t help but wonder that simple little phrase.

‘What if…?’