𝐜𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞'𝐬𝐞 - 𝘥𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘫𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯

Next To You

You have to escape your thoughts, if even for a moment. You rise from your place on the floor with your back against the bed that's become much too large for just you, wrapping Din's old and worn tunic tighter around your body. It's lost its scent and it's become tattered from your use of it—but it achieves its purpose of comfort nevertheless. You don't think about putting on shoes or bringing anything else for that matter as you pat out of the cottage, stepping into the grass that's much too overgrown as you meet the cool breeze of the night. Your feet move without the aid of your mind, passing the wilted flowers and plants of your garden and only stopping once they reach the place you know all too well, just before a field of flowers stretches into bloom.

This is the place where you made your vows—where you became foolish enough to believe that you could have a future with a man who was so willing to sacrifice himself for everything he loves.

Numbly, you lay yourself down in the grass, your head resting wearily as you look up at the stars. There's other planets in view, not too many but enough for you to point them out amongst the countless beams of light. They used to look so much more radiant when you'd lay with Din, whether it be in the grass where you are now or the texture of many different planets.

He'd let you run around with him in the Crest for a few cycles, before things got dangerous enough for him to worry about your safety. You'd had some of your best memories fixing up the ship for him, putting your skills to use while also getting to know him so well. You know you were both captivated since your first conversation in that cantina—you could've told anyone such from the way he trusted you enough to invite you into his crew that same evening.

In those times spent on planets you often didn't know the names of, you'd often stare at the stars together for some sort of relief from the stress of what followed you. They started as silent sessions of admiration, but as time went on and as your hearts bled more and more together, he began to speak.

"Do you see that constellation?" Din had pointed out on one occasion, and when you shake your head, he pointed with a gloved finger to an arrangement of stars in a perfect grouping of a circle just above your heads. "Whenever I see that, I..." he'd had to pause, hesitant to be so open to you—but you'd always been so patient, "... I'm reminded of the shine in your eyes, when you look at the kid."

You'd raised an eyebrow as you turned your head to look at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. "Just the kid?"

Din's helmet had looked over to you, too, and you'd felt his gloved hand move hesitantly towards yours until his fingers had slowly entwined with your own. "And... me."

You'd smiled at him and given his hand a gentle squeeze. "That sounds more accurate."

Din had often communicated his love to you with metaphors of the stars. He'd pointed them out to you while you sat together in the cockpit after he'd been away on a long hunt, holding you close in an attempt to comfort both of you as he mused on all he'd missed while he was gone. "All these stars, all these planets," Din had said, his modulated voice as soft as the hand he continually stroked down your arm, "all these distant places and people—but I somehow managed to find you." His helmet had rested against your head so delicately when you'd pulled him closer. "And I thank the Maker for it every day, cyar'ika."

"All these stars," you repeat to yourself now, your voice hauntingly empty as you stare up at the stars now blurring together in your vision, "all these planets, all these distant places and people... but I somehow managed to lose you."

Your voice breaks on the word, but you refuse to cry. Not again. You've shed too many tears in the past 368 rotations to cry even one more now. Din had told you not to cry the day he left you—and you'd promised him you'd try not to.