Archive of Our Own ^beta

It started the way most of their supply runs did—too early, too cold, and too long. The sun had barely cracked over the hills when Time split them into pairs, sending them in opposite directions to cover more ground. Twilight ended up with Sky.

Not that he minded. Sky was good company. Quiet, polite, and surprisingly sharp when it counted. But there was one thing—one thing—that always set Twilight on edge.

The cliffs.

It wasn’t just the way Sky drifted toward them. It was how at peace he looked when he did. While the rest of the Chain walked a wide berth from sheer drops, Sky walked right up to the edge like it was a safe trail. He’d stand with his eyes half-closed, face to the wind, arms occasionally spread like he was testing for a breeze strong enough to lift him.

He never seemed afraid. Not cautious. Not aware.

And that scared Twilight more than anything else.

They hiked for hours through the highlands that morning, collecting herbs and the kinds of fruit Wild insisted “looked weird but tasted fine.” Twilight was careful with his steps. Sky was not.

By midday, they reached the peak of a rocky slope, the trees thinning until all that was left was stone and open sky. The land dropped off suddenly—a sharp cliff overlooking miles of forest. The view was breathtaking.

Sky was already walking toward it.

“Sky,” Twilight called, not harshly—yet. “Don’t ya go wanderin’ too far now.”

“I won’t,” Sky promised over his shoulder, smiling faintly. “I just want to see.”

Twilight bit back the instinct to argue. He knew how this went. Sky would walk right up to the brink, stop within inches, and just… stand there. Like he belonged with the clouds.

Sure enough, Sky reached the ledge, exhaled like he’d been holding his breath all morning, and tilted his face into the wind. Twilight followed, slower, every step weighed down by the knot in his chest.

“You always do this,” he muttered once he was close enough. “Y’know we don’t got your Loftwing here, right?”

Sky didn’t turn around. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Sky was quiet for a moment. “Because it still feels like I do.”

Twilight frowned.

Sky finally looked back, expression soft, almost apologetic. “I grew up with cliffs. I lived on one. Every edge in Skyloft led to the open sky, not the end of the world. If I slipped, there was always a rush of feathers and wind and then I was flying. Falling wasn’t scary. It was freedom.”

Twilight swallowed. “Ain’t like that here, though.”

“No,” Sky agreed, eyes going distant. “Not here.”

And yet—he stayed standing there, dangerously close. As if the wind might still catch him. As if his bird might still be out there somewhere, circling just below the clouds.

Twilight took a step closer. “C’mon back a bit, will ya? Please?”

Sky nodded and turned. His foot landed on a patch of crumbling stone.

Twilight saw it break before Sky did.

“Sky!”

The rock gave way with a sharp crack, and Sky’s foot slipped out from under him. There was no time to think. One moment he was upright, and the next he was pitching backward into the open air—

Twilight lunged.

He barely caught him—fingers snaring the edge of Sky’s tunic just in time. He dropped to his stomach, boots digging into the dirt as Sky’s weight pulled hard. Sky dangled for a second, stunned and breathless, arms flailing for purchase.

“I gotcha!” Twilight barked, panic thick in his voice. “Don’t let go, y’hear me?!”

Sky reached up, gripping Twilight’s forearm like a lifeline.

The moment stretched, hearts pounding. Twilight gritted his teeth and pulled, muscles screaming, until Sky was over the edge again, collapsing in the dirt beside him.

Neither of them moved for a long second.

Sky coughed once, hard, and then laughed—high and shaky and laced with leftover adrenaline.

“That was... different,” he breathed.

Twilight sat back, heart racing, glaring at him. “You damn near died, Sky.”

“I didn’t, though.”

“You almost did!”

Sky’s smile faltered. He looked down at his hands, dirt-streaked and shaking slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think... I thought it was safe.”

“It ain’t Skyloft,” Twilight snapped, then softened. “You ain’t got your bird here. You fall, you fall, understand?”

Sky’s throat bobbed. He didn’t look at Twilight. “I think… I forgot how different it really is. I’ve been pretending like the sky’s still mine. But it’s not. Not here.”

Twilight sat beside him, anger draining away. “You miss it.”

“Every day.”

A long silence followed. Then Twilight, quieter: “What was he like? Your bird?”

Sky’s eyes lit up even through the dust and fear. “He was the best. Strong, fast, always there when I needed him. We’d dive off cliffs just for fun. Racing, playing. He’d catch me before I even had to think.” His voice broke a little. “He never let me fall.”

Twilight swallowed. “Sounds like one hell of a friend.”

“Mmh...”

They sat there until the wind picked up again, brushing past them with gentle gusts.

Twilight eventually nudged Sky’s knee. “Come on now. Let’s head back ‘fore the others think we actually went and rolled off a cliff.”

Sky nodded. “Yeah.”

He stood more cautiously this time. He kept a full three feet between himself and the edge.

Twilight noticed. He didn’t comment.

As they made their way back down the path, Sky glanced sideways, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

“…Thanks for catching me.”

Twilight smirked. “Don’t make a habit of it, darlin’. I ain’t always gonna be fast enough.”

Sky laughed, quiet and real. “I won’t.”

But that night, when the others were resting and the stars were rising, Twilight found Sky sitting near the edge of camp—not too close this time—looking up, not down.

Maybe he couldn’t fly here.
But he could still look to the sky and remember how it felt to fall into something that fell for him too.