Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to Squeenix and Disney.
Dedicated to xXGageXx who just had a (fourth) supercute baby. :D
"Do you like it?" Kairi asks, mouth split in a wide grin.
The blonde she's facing (didn't you know, you're always face-forward when words are confined to eyes and hands too small to hold them) wipes sand encrusted fingers on the front of her white sundress.
'It's great!' she says — broad, sweeping gestures.
And it is. The new sights and smells and tastes. The sun and sand and tree-cluster caves.
And, oh, the waves!
They have a sound she's been told, like they have a feeling-smell-taste. And, sometimes, she stops and strains and wills herself to hear them, but comes away with a sensation less than silence.
He doesn't comment on the peculiar way she listens to music (radio blaring and fingers splayed against the speakers, foot taptaptapping in perfect time) nor does he attribute her still tongue to anything other than shyness.
(and she quite likes it that way, thank you very much)
Instead, when Kairi grabs her handbag and moves to the door with Riku in tow, he offers the blonde a warm smile and closes the door behind him.
He doesn't notice the way she bites her tongue and stills her restless hands and twisting fingers; the way her eyes flicker and fall with the words she keeps at bay, because oh, they're not for you princess. They're for girls like Kairi and boys like Riku and Sora, not you — you and your delicate finger-charades. And you should know, you should know you can't keep him fooled forever.
But she likes to pretend anyway.
One-two-three, quiet mouse, she tells herself. And maybe this time, maybe this time...
But when you're the only one playing, naturally you're the only one losing too.
It's an inevitability.
So, when she catches herself laughing — a hollow, toneless sound, unmistakable for anything other than what it was — at some stupid, stupid (oh, you should have known better) joke, she clamps her hands over her mouth and bolts from the room.
He wasn't sure when the words 'Naminé' and 'deaf' clicked together in his mind, but they did.
And, maybe, he knew it all along.
She doesn't hear him enter, but she feels the unfamiliar weight against her mattress.
The pieces of her broken silence can't be held together with paper mâche and duct tape. And even she, even the deaf girl, knows this.
When he doesn't leave, not that she expected him to, she glances up at him with waterlogged eyes, down and the fabric clutched in her hands, then up again.
"I-I like the sound of your voice." His whisper is nearly inaudible, but she interprets the soft twists and turns of his mouth, and buries her face in his shoulder — drops of ocean water in choking waves.
He stiffens and stifles a yelp, feeling the spreading damp through the fabric of his t-shirt.
What do you say when words don't matter?
Her (useless) ear, nestled against his throat, bristles at the rumbling, rise and fall of vibrations. Not sound, she knows, but close enough, close enough for now.
A/N: My first attempt at SoraNamine, and it kinda went downhill as the story progressed. But, I'd certainly appreciate (and worship) anyone who tells me what they thought of it.