Genre: Gen, fluff, friendship
Characters: Braig, Dilan
Rating: the Gest G that ever Ged
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any related characters. This was written out of enjoyment of the series, and no profit is being made.
Notes: I finally wrote out my headcanon of how these two met yaaaaay! :D At first I was going to just write out an explanation of it, but then it started getting prose-y and this resulted. So yes. Concrit always welcome. ♥
How It Began
Dilan lived in a small house near one of the green parks, so the houses weren’t all built squished together and there was room for grass backyards and short picket fences. The yards were small, and there wasn’t much room for anything except a couple flower beds and an herb garden his mom always said, but no one ever much minded.
One day, he was sitting on the stone step outside the back door, flying his kite, watching imaginary gold koi spiral around his paper-and-glue goldfish on the blue sky backdrop, listening to a bird somewhere sing. The wind decided it didn’t want to blow right (one day he’d be strong enough to rule the wind and the skies like a king) and wrenches his spool good and tight before spiralling it heavily to the left until it crashes into the tree in the yard just beyond the fence.
Dilan ran to the edge of his yard, leaning against the white picket fence, tugging at the string and shaking green elm leaves to the ground. He sighed after several long minutes with no results, and let his head bang against the wooden plank in front of him.
He dropped the spool and left it where it laid on the grass to turn back to his house. His mom could talk to neighbours about things lost over the fence. Trying to climb over himself would go into Truth or Dare territory and there was no one to dare him.
“Hey, you!” someone said, and Dilan turned. There was a kid hanging upside-down from the neighbour’s tree, with brown eyes and short black hair like his and a crooked grin. The kid’s shirt was hanging loosely from his shoulders and he had to keep holding it up and away from his face. “Was that your kite?”
“Yeah,” Dilan said and sniffed.
“Are you crying?” the kid asked, in that mean teasing voice he’d heard other kids use around him and his mom.
Without a word, Dilan immediately picked up a dirt clot and threw it at him.
The kid made a wimpy squealing sound as the chunk of dirt soared through the air and exploded in the centre of his chest. He fell to the ground with a thud.
The bird somewhere continued to sing and a pinwheel in the middle of his mom’s begonias turned quickly in the wind. In those seconds, Dilan was absolutely sure he had just murdered his over-the-fence neighbour.
He was wrong, of course.
The fence rattled suddenly and the neighbour kid was sticking his hands through the gaps in the planks and pointing blindly at patches of air that was supposed to be his killer-by-dirt. It was only after Dilan got over the momentary shock, that he started to hear the words he was spewing: “-just a stupid joke, didn’t need to throw a stupid rock at me, stupid!”
Dilan walked up to the fence and looked down at the kid who looked back up at him (“Whoa, you’re tall”). “It was dirt, not a rock.”
“There was a rock in it, though!”
“Oh.” Dilan hadn’t known that. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” the kid grinned and swatted at a bug buzzing around his ear.
“That wasn’t a funny joke, you know,” Dilan said seriously.
“Okay, okay, sorry!” The kid shrugged. “Your kite’s actually really cool. How’d you make it look like a goldfish?”
“My mom helped me,” Dilan shrugged back.
“Want me to get it down for you?” the kid pointed up at the tree he had just gracelessly fallen from. “I’m a real good climber!”
“Yeah, okay,” Dilan said.
The kid was a good climber. He scuffled up the trunk to the lowest branch easily, his sneakers flaking bits of bark into the air, and then pulled himself up into the leaves and disappeared.
What was really something like six minutes later but an eternity to five-year-old Dilan, the kid re-emerged with the kite, dark orange and gold in the shadow of the branches. One of its ribbon tails was wrapped around the kid’s wrist.
He dropped the kite carefully to the ground and then just as carefully jumped down, making sure not to land on top of it. He was grinning when he pushed it over the top of the fence for Dilan to catch. He started untying the ribbon from around his wrist. “This was the only part that broke!” he said, threading that through the gap too.
“Thanks,” Dilan said, and smiled for the first time since the whole predicament started. “My name’s Dilan.”
“I’m Braig,” Braig said, and rubbed his nose. Dirt smudged across his face.
“You wanna come over? I can ask my mom to make lemonade,” Dilan said and Braig grinned.
“Cool! Yeah!” he said.
The kid then started the awkward process of hopping the fence when he was much too short for it, and didn’t succeed until Dilan coached him into moving something he could stand on closer to the fence. A few minutes later, the boy named Braig tumbles head first over the fence and into Dilan’s garden and, more or less, into the rest of his life.
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