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First post. ^^

Challenge: [127] Linguistics

Title: Understood

Word count: 509
Notes: Takes place shortly after Sora & Riku’s reunion in KH2; after the last battle, but before finding the way home. 'Linguistics' paradoxially made me think of how much we can say with body language, and how that can be much more honest and heart-felt than the fanciest words ever used. (crossposted to my LJ)

Genre: General
Characters: Sora, Riku
Pairing: none
Rating: G
Spoilers: for KH2
Disclaimer: KH characters are not mine, nor is any money being made off this. Characters belong to Square ENIX & Disney.

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The light of the moon - the only light in this world - reflects on the calm mirror of slowly ebbing sea. It casts a bluish silver sheen on the wet rocks at the coastline, on damp beach and on the people seated there.

Outwardly, the two best friends seem relaxed, at peace with themselves and this world, as they gaze out over the vast body of water. After all they’ve just been through, however, that couldn’t be much further from the truth.

Sora looks up from where his gaze has been lingering on his left lace-less shoe. He figures that it is probably a good thing that he has no shoe-laces, or he’d feel the inclination to fidget with them as he tries to sort through all the chaos they’ve just left behind. Yes, it is a good thing he can’t give into that urge, or Riku would know what a mess he feels like right now – Riku always knows. Or used to, at least, and might come to do so again… given time.

He looks over at his best friend and opens his mouth to ask that hanging question, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ But the words won’t come, because he doesn’t want an answer; not yet, not now. Oh, of course, he has been concerned about his friend; his hesitation has nothing to do with that and he almost laughs at the irony. He’s been worried sick in fact – he doesn’t even want to count the number sleepless nights on his Riku’s account - and Kairi's.

Then again, maybe he doesn’t need to ask. The palm of Riku’s hand felt coarse when Sora had grabbed him earlier - thick with callus; a testimony of all the battles the darker youth had lived through. The new depth in Riku’s eyes can alternatively whisper, speak or scream about the hardship brought on by both darkness and light – about how it has affected his heart and being.

His companion meets his gaze, and it strikes Sora that perhaps they don’t need to talk about this after all. Don’t need to put these issues into words per se.

‘You wanna talk?’ Riku’s turquoise eyes question his best buddy with a modicum of concern.

Sora’s gaze flits to the gritty sand, ‘No,’ before meeting his friend’s again, because he deserves an explanation. He worries his bottom lip, wondering how to say this. ‘Not now. Not yet, please.’

His concern is eased when Riku gives him a small smile that seems to communicate a reassurance. ‘Of course, I understand.’ Relaxing at last, Sora grins back; shaking off melancholy like a wet dog does with water from its fur.

No, there is no need for words right now. No matter how much the two of them have or haven’t changed, the foundations of their mutual understanding remain – solid and enduring like the treehouse they once built at home on their island. Their friendship may be battered by the storm, even in need of some overdue repairs to strengthen it once more, but everlasting nonetheless.