[ sometimes, when she's at her most irrational, being shut up with a kiss only fuels the fire. like having a hand clamped over her mouth or a hissed threat shot in her direction, being kissed into silence can make her dig her heels in harder, break away with vicious outrage that kills any attempt at romance.
now is not one of those times. now, with the blinders of irrational fury set aside, with guilt expelled via blurted apologies, all rey has left is a sorrow that's easily swept away, a sadness that simply melts into unearned forgiveness as he gathers her up in hands much kinder than she deserves. all that there is between them now is the warmth and resilience of choice — that they choose to come back to each other despite all the hard moments, that he chooses to love her despite how horribly she flies off the handle sometimes, that she chooses to stay despite how easy it would be to run.
so he kisses her, and rey lets him. her body goes slack with the relief of it, stunned into stillness for a brief moment until her hands release their grip on his shirt in order to reach up and wrap around his neck, one of them sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck in a cradle that's reserved for the moments when she wants to pull herself as close as she can without sliding under his skin. it's an embrace that's, at first, breathless gratitude, but it doesn't take long for warmth to sneak in, set aside by his early departure this morning and the fact that she has missed him, despite how cruel she'd been.
when they break, when his mouth pulls apart from hers just enough to take in a breath, she's quick to fill the silence (like always) with a few words no one asked for. ]
Be with me, [ a demand and a question both, a familiar set of words now — but they are shorthand for rey's most fervently held insecurities, her most crippling fears. be with me, she asks, because she needs the confirmation: that he'll stay, now and always. ]
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now is not one of those times. now, with the blinders of irrational fury set aside, with guilt expelled via blurted apologies, all rey has left is a sorrow that's easily swept away, a sadness that simply melts into unearned forgiveness as he gathers her up in hands much kinder than she deserves. all that there is between them now is the warmth and resilience of choice — that they choose to come back to each other despite all the hard moments, that he chooses to love her despite how horribly she flies off the handle sometimes, that she chooses to stay despite how easy it would be to run.
so he kisses her, and rey lets him. her body goes slack with the relief of it, stunned into stillness for a brief moment until her hands release their grip on his shirt in order to reach up and wrap around his neck, one of them sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck in a cradle that's reserved for the moments when she wants to pull herself as close as she can without sliding under his skin. it's an embrace that's, at first, breathless gratitude, but it doesn't take long for warmth to sneak in, set aside by his early departure this morning and the fact that she has missed him, despite how cruel she'd been.
when they break, when his mouth pulls apart from hers just enough to take in a breath, she's quick to fill the silence (like always) with a few words no one asked for. ]
Be with me, [ a demand and a question both, a familiar set of words now — but they are shorthand for rey's most fervently held insecurities, her most crippling fears. be with me, she asks, because she needs the confirmation: that he'll stay, now and always. ]