Waves

The fear that they might not get there in time, buoyed up to near-panic levels by adrenaline, ebbed and washed away as the adrenaline did as well. In the quiet after the blast, Kururu and Saburo both looked up at the night sky, studded with stars and glittering with the rainbow remnants of the butterfly that had unfurled its wings and protected them both.

Saburo wasn't apologizing for the things he'd said before, which was a relief, because quite frankly, Kururu didn't want to talk about that. Didn't want to talk about the fear, either, or what they'd just done; while they could easily have ribbed Saburo for the boy's own awful choices in all this, they didn't feel like doing that just now either. Instead, they sat there beside Saburo while the boy reclined back as he always did, resting on the sand with his head pillowed in his arms.

"Thank you." When Kururu glanced over, they had to look away again almost immediately. That fear had gone but it had left their nerves scraped raw, and maybe that was why they were receiving Saburo's signal so strongly. The smile on the boy's face and in his blue eyes was intolerable, forming knots in their chest and their gut both, and they couldn't escape the smile in his damn voice. "Kururu."

"Don't mention it," they muttered, voice smaller than they would have liked, and so they forced it flat when they added, "ever" and tried to tune out the waves of delight in Saburo's laughter.