Vibrant Eyes | Din Djarin

38: must

On the walk back to the Razor Crest with a bag of beskar in tow, Din had to hold her hand to help her step over a tree fallen in the path while they were gone. 

He interlaced her bare fingers with his gloved ones and held tight to her, the proof of life in the palm of his hand. They continued the walk like that and when they sat together the next morning, the Razor Crest floating in open space, Din clung to her hand all the same.

He couldn't bring himself to let go lest she be torn away again.

And Ira seemed to need it. 

Her grip was tight, bordering on bruising, and she wore a frown where often was a grin. They sat in silence in the cockpit as Grogu slept below, looking out at the stars around them. Din had his chair turned to the other one, their hands hanging between them.

"You're alright?"

Din looked up from their hands, studying her intently. Her eyes flitted about his body as if tracing him, trying to find sign of anything amiss. He hesitated, drinking her in the same way.

"Yes," he whispered.

Ira hummed and turned her head with a softness in her eyes so at odds with the day before. "I'm so very glad."

"As am I." Din squeezed her hand and thought of the fear and the desperation in watching her getting dragged away from him. "I feared for you."

She blinked. "But there's no need?"

"What do you mean there isn't a need? They were holding you hostage."

"I've gotten out of worse. I have always feared for myself alone..."

"You're not alone anymore," he reminded her, squeezing her hand. She looked down at their hold on each other, the reassurance that nothing could tear them apart. Not again. "Don't you want someone there to fear for you?"

"I've never needed it," she murmured.

"It's not about need. It's about want."

Ira was silent for another moment. He watched a tear drop from her lowered eyes like a falling star in a silent, dark night. Then she looked up and there was heartbreak and fear in them.

"Din..." she said.

Din froze, playing the sound of his name from her lips on repeat. He'd always thought it was so effortlessly plain. One syllable. Three letters. An alternate word for a mundane meaning.

In her voice it sounded like it'd been made for her to say.

He swallowed. "Yes."

"I..." Ira blinked rapidly, holding back tears. But he couldn't fear it alongside her when he didn't know what it was she feared. What made her weep just looking at him. "I have one thing I almost never admit, not to anyone."

Din stayed silent, letting her speak.

"If you truly wish to fear for me as I fear for you, you'll need to know."

He nodded, intrigue growing.

"It'll explain everything you've ever wondered about me but you may never see me the same again. Know this secret is one I kept from you because... because I didn't know if I could trust you. I haven't trusted another in so long."

"Can you?"

"I believe so." Then she shook her head harshly, tensing and taking in a harsh breath. "But I don't care anymore."

Din studied her in silence. Three words settled in his heart, engraved themselves there with the signature of her name. Sealed themselves to him so deeply and intrinsically that he shivered to feel their warmth course through his veins. 

He wanted to tell her. But he couldn't.

"I trust you," he said instead.

Ira sniffled. "You shouldn't."

Din smiled and it came through in his voice. "I know."

Ira laughed.

For a moment afterwards, she did nothing else. She said nothing. In the next, she lifted her head to look at him. Din would never grow tired of looking into lavender depths, pale and eternal as they were. She saw him as she always saw him.

Then said, "Din."

He nodded, transfixed.

"I'm blind."