Wreck it Ralph: Wave

"Ralph, we gotta go!"

Felix's words broke through his banter with the new president, waking up the alarm in his head telling him that the arcade would soon be open. He'd have to go. She gave him a smile, telling him that it was okay; she knew he'd be there for him no matter what now, and with a smile of his own he translated the same. The space door shut, Ralph cramped in the back, but he didn't care. He just looked out the candy coated window, small threads of pink glued onto its transparent surface, and waved goodbye to Vanellope.

She waved back.

Their first goodbye was one of many. But all of their goodbyes were silent. Teeth flashing, heels clicking, and always a wave.

Returning to the arcade was a bit of a shellshock. On one hand, he missed all the adventures he'd had, all the excitement, the movement and the everlasting buzz of adrenaline in his mind. On the other hand, he was finally accepted.

He'd have credited himself; he had been the one to jump after all. But he didn't, couldn't. It had never been him, he realized. It had been her. Without her, he'd have been accepted by force, a medal round his neck sealing a forced deal made over splattered cake and angry words. He'd have gotten something. Because of her, he'd gotten everything.

There was more, he'd realized, then places on cake and golden medals. There were medals made of cookies, homemade in minutes but more valuable than any gold. There were places on cakes. Or there were places next to you that used to be occupied by no one and now made room for walking partners who always had stories to share. There were penthouses. Or there were other worlds you could walk to. Big rooms on the top of apartment buildings were nothing compared to a walk, with the only intent of making a little girl smile.

Sometimes life was strange that way.

He had been waiting to have pride showered upon him, and now found he worried more about someone else's.

He was proud of her, more than any one else. She had been like him, cast aside and alone. But she'd lost more.  He'd never allowed himself to trust anyone. He hadn't even trusted her. But she'd trusted him first, and one thing led to another after that. Now he finally trusted someone, worrying just as much about keeping her trust in him. He tried to tell her this every day, silently, with just looks and gestures, things that she'd understand. Smiles, crinkling around the eyes, a wave.

And every day, he seemed to grow prouder of her. She had accomplished so much. Maybe it was because he had felt generous that day. More likely though, it was because in her, he saw himself. And at that point he had given up, deciding that maybe he was a lost cause. But she wasn't. She could still have everything. And from that spawned more than selfish desires to see himself grow. From that had branched a new thought; have her grow instead. And he'd tell her this every day. Always silently. Whether it was a tilting of the head, a sloppy grin, or even a wave.

His favorite time of the day now was being lifted up on top of the building. Because from there he could see Vanellope, his little racer, always winning medals and holding a winners cup in hand. He could see her do a small victory dance. And then their eyes would always meet. From across the arcade, between the long expanse of space, he tried his hardest to tell her 'I'm proud of you', with every look he had. Because she deserved to know it for the rest of her life. Even if the way he told her was totally silent. With chuckles or simple grins or a wave.

She somehow always understood. And in a look she gave him, she often said, 'thanks. I'm proud of you too.'

And just like every time they left each other, every night they parted ways, no matter how many times he did it, and no matter how silent it was,

The two of them would look at each other-

And simply wave.