[ she doesn't reply. not in words, anyway, not immediately; for a long moment, rey is quiet, content to simply peer up at him, to soak in the sincerity of his words and the reassurance in his gaze. he talks, and for now, she does not interrupt him, simply letting her eyes close once he finishes with a small nod before leaning in, curling into an embrace that lets her cheek settle against his chest, his hand trapped between them.
it's only once she can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath his skin that she lets out a long-held breath, a little shaky for the adrenaline still racing in her veins. ]
Sometimes I hate having to share you. [ not like this, but. with the resistance, with the people that depend on him, with the fight they all have to pitch in to keep alive. there may not be massive battles on the horizon or death tolls to bury them, but there were dangers still ever-present, and no one rested simply because one enemy was gone. there was always something. ] I — I've never had anything that was just mine.
[ and waking up alone, sometimes, reminds her of that sharing, the temporary loss sharp in her chest. ]
no subject
it's only once she can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath his skin that she lets out a long-held breath, a little shaky for the adrenaline still racing in her veins. ]
Sometimes I hate having to share you. [ not like this, but. with the resistance, with the people that depend on him, with the fight they all have to pitch in to keep alive. there may not be massive battles on the horizon or death tolls to bury them, but there were dangers still ever-present, and no one rested simply because one enemy was gone. there was always something. ] I — I've never had anything that was just mine.
[ and waking up alone, sometimes, reminds her of that sharing, the temporary loss sharp in her chest. ]