[He doesn’t pull back from her, though when her hand finds his, he doesn’t reciprocate. His skin is damp and cold from the cloth he had been kneading, but it feels like she’d held a candle to it when she touches him. His eyes drop to their hands briefly before they move back up to her eyes.
Its hard not to see that night, on Ahch-To and the Supremacy, when he looks at her again. There are no tears this time, but there is that sense of understanding that suddenly comes flooding back to him.]
Rey.
[He wants to understand, the same way she does — perhaps more than she does. But he is older, he has had more failure in his life, and he knows better than to believe she will accept whatever the Force shows them. And that is why a warning laces his tone of voice. Neither of them even know what they are asking for or where they are going.
—he hears his own voice, warring with itself. This strange need to preserve whatever unspoken alliance they had found with the least amount if outside strive had blinded him to the path right in front of him. If she was so desperate for this — thing — then what did the rest matter?
Because came the angry snap of his paranoia. It makes you vulnerable.
But it makes her vulnerable too.
All the while, still not knowing what “it” is, his hand has turned over to accept her’s, opening to allow her fingers to lace between his, as if there was no possible alternative. The contact makes his hand feel numb, a tingle that sits uncomfortably in his knuckles. They were the same in some ways, and opposites in others. Their opposites seemed to magnetize them even more.]
...next time.
[It almost doesn’t come out when he speaks again. Next time, he would trust and follow her. The lump in his throat is impossible to swallow, and he finds that he can’t hold her gaze anymore after he says it. Fear takes over, and he drops his gaze again.]
no subject
Its hard not to see that night, on Ahch-To and the Supremacy, when he looks at her again. There are no tears this time, but there is that sense of understanding that suddenly comes flooding back to him.]
Rey.
[He wants to understand, the same way she does — perhaps more than she does. But he is older, he has had more failure in his life, and he knows better than to believe she will accept whatever the Force shows them. And that is why a warning laces his tone of voice. Neither of them even know what they are asking for or where they are going.
—he hears his own voice, warring with itself. This strange need to preserve whatever unspoken alliance they had found with the least amount if outside strive had blinded him to the path right in front of him. If she was so desperate for this — thing — then what did the rest matter?
Because came the angry snap of his paranoia. It makes you vulnerable.
But it makes her vulnerable too.
All the while, still not knowing what “it” is, his hand has turned over to accept her’s, opening to allow her fingers to lace between his, as if there was no possible alternative. The contact makes his hand feel numb, a tingle that sits uncomfortably in his knuckles. They were the same in some ways, and opposites in others. Their opposites seemed to magnetize them even more.]
...next time.
[It almost doesn’t come out when he speaks again. Next time, he would trust and follow her. The lump in his throat is impossible to swallow, and he finds that he can’t hold her gaze anymore after he says it. Fear takes over, and he drops his gaze again.]