#kinryu

There was something about the world that day. Maybe it was the prophecy, as vague as it was, weighing on you. Or maybe it was the desolation that stretched out before you, which only seemed to be growing with each passing day. Or maybe it was knowing that the world relied upon you, without most of them even knowing, and most of them wouldn’t give their gratitude either if you succeeded. Maybe it was all of it.

Perhaps that’s why you found yourself at what could be considered, arguably, your favorite spot in the Circus. A porch swing that no longer rocked, was slightly crooked, and what little paint was left was peeling and faded beyond recognition. Still, it was away from the others, placed under a dead tree that refused to fall, and the air around it always seemed still. It was abnormally silent here as you watched the sun set and you wished the swing actually moved, instead settling for kicking your feet in an effort to distract yourself from your tumultuous thoughts.

You watched as the grey of the regularly overcast sky changed to muted pinks and oranges shining weakly behind the smog and clouds. You breathed and managed to imagine for a few mercurial seconds what the air might have tasted like before the death of the foliage on the outskirts and what it might have sounded like to hear songbirds at one point in time. Instead, it was just quiet, both irregularly so and yet… this was the normal now. This was what you knew.

You didn’t even look away from the feeble colors painted across the horizon when Kinryu approached. He was so silent that it would have been easy for you not to notice him. But the world wasn’t a nice place to Freaks and so you’d naturally learned to always be vigilant and on guard. Still, you didn’t twitch as he stood next to you for a few moments before sitting, making the slowly rotting wood of the seat beneath him groan in protest.

For a moment you thought he might talk, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t. If anyone understood the need for silence it was Kinryu. Maybe he didn’t understand all the subtleties of emotions or social interaction, but he knew when the world felt too heavy and when it was needed not to say anything, instead sitting in companionable silence.

What did surprise you was when his fingers sought yours. Your hand was pressed against the thin planks of wood beneath you, curled slightly so your nails bit into the material. His touch was warm as he wove knuckles in between yours. Neither of you acknowledged it beyond your grip gently tightening around his. It didn’t need to be spoken about, nothing needed to fracture this small moment of tenuous peace.

Instead, his skin caused you to let out a shivery sigh, pushed back the voices in your mind, the expectations. His strong and unwavering presence anchored you in the present. It was you who broke the solitude first.

“Thank you,” you whispered, afraid to speak too loud in case it broke whatever spell had fallen over the two of you.