inappropriately timed force bond moments (both nsfw and humor approaches)
dream-sharing
emotional bleed/transference (from rey, involving other parties)
inappropriate force bond voyeurism on rey/poe or rey/finn
mid-conversation force bond interruption
The Rise of Skywalker- Cross-galaxy chase of the Resistance
anything related to ben solo, but especially:
snoke confessionals with family or friends of family
returning to the light
smuggler life style
jedi knight ben
resistance-fighter ben
The Rise of Skywalker- Force Ghost communications w/ Rey
anything related to supreme leader kylo ren, but especially:
fall via coup
resistance fighter reconditioning (gen or nsfw)
force ghost visits from anakin/luke/rey/leia/snoke
defeat by the resistance, and subsequent aftermath
The Rise of Skywalker- Mole Discovery w/ Hux
canto bight:
shady weapons deals
picking up prisoners
recruitment
obligatory dinner party
general casino shenanigans
beach party
basically any reason you can think of to use canto bight as a setting piece
A note on romance: I will ship all of the new trilogy characters with Kylo Ren (except Snoke/Family). But I have no interest in exploring domestic-style takes on them. Thank you for understanding.
[The logic appeals. There’s something that calms in the air when he digests it. Or maybe its the acknowledgement that she sleeps poorly without him that makes the knot in his chest unclench slightly. There is no falsehood there — he would know. And like it or not, his thoughts would doubtless invade her dreams.
Good.
He turns then to stalk toward the singular bed, momentarily glancing around before settling in the corner on the other side of where she had grabbed at the curtain. Slowly, he slides and lets himself sink to the floor, his knees spread apart and his arms resting on either one. She is perfrctly in his line of sight, as is the door.]
[ Kindness, at its most perfunctory, stabs as precisely as cruelty. He doesn't mean to make it a weapon, but the blow lands all the same. The pale politeness exists in the shadow of the empty space where real intimacy used to exist, still belongs. Bickering feels better, somehow.
She doesn't probe at it. There's nothing good there. Instead, she wrestles with sleep. Rey spends a not insignificant time tossing and turning, trying to find peace. But on one side, her comfortable side, she faces his presence, and on the other side, her shoulder pinches. She pulls the curtain shut to obscure him from her view, but it's only when she accepts that she won't be able to ignore his presence anyway, thanks to the bond, that she finally falls asleep, facing towards that curtain, towards him.
Her sleep is fitful, plagued by dreams that don't take a full shape. dark specters and endless rain haunt them, most of which are hers, but their tumultuous nature is all owed to his nerves. In her vulnerable state, her mind lies open to him. That trust is the only real counter to the insult of his wish for pleasant dreams anyway. But bleeding around the edges is that same old loneliness that she thought she had escaped with him.
Turns out they'd just hidden from it a while. It came back to claim them, eventually. ]
[Somewhere between before and now, Kylo Ren had squirmed over to the side of the bed, pinning the curtain to it with his back. Even he isn't entirely sure when he'd moved, only that once he had become aware of himself again, he was there beside her. Had he fallen asleep? It did not feel as if he had -- only that something had compelled him there, against his own desires. Against his judgement.
But he knows that he aches when he comes back to the presence of his own mind. All of his bones feel heavy, his chest and stomach twisted in knots of what he recognizes as loneliness -- much of which is owed to Rey, but amplified by his own miserable self.
It's a bittersweet feeling. He does not smile for it, but it does coax his head to languidly rest against the mattress. It's not real contact -- and he isn't really searching for the connection that comes with it. It's an idle sort of melancholy that he doesn't engage with so much as exist in a constant state of.
It is a blanket. He finds comfort and familiarity in it, where Rey finds distress. But it means he does not spend time fighting for his own space.]
[ When she wakes up, Rey's hand lies out in front of her, fingers stretched to the edge of the mattress. The edge of her pinky presses against the solid bulk beyond the curtain, which is warm and familiar. Her eyes blink open slowly, awareness coming in pieces until she gathers enough of her wits to jump slightly, recoiling and sitting up.
Shame descends immediately. Shoulders hunched, she wipes her mouth with her hand where sleep has caused spit to run down the side of her face. It covers her efforts to compose herself, hides it from even her own mind.
This is precisely the trouble of Ben Solo. In a life defined by absence, his presence is something she aches for, even when she knows it would not be enough. Rey breathes slowly through her nose to stay calm as it hits her: What if Kylo Ren is right, again? He had been on Hanabira, after all. His pessimism was not without a track record.
What if they don't meet up with Hathaway? What if they have already left? What if the two of them are stuck here in Drakstaden, alone, with no one else familiar to them? Would she try to make a life with other local natives who know nothing of her life and where she came from? Or would she let herself get sucked back into his orbit?
She can hear him breathing out there. On the other side of the curtain. Rey settles against the wall and quietly says without malice, ] This is what you wanted. [ They're alone now. Truly. No complications or competing allegiances to take her from him. ]
[Kylo Ren grunts on the other side of the curtain: an acknowledgement and protest given at the same time. At first, it seems like that is the only reply he will give. And then, the shadow on the other side of the curtain moves slightly as he turns his head to the side to reply:]
Not quite.
[But close, for a certainty. He might have gotten them where he wanted them to be, but he could still feel Rey's pain on the other end of the bond. The way she had just recoiled from him. The peril they faced on the other side of the door.]
[ Separating out the relief from the resentment gives her trouble. Even though it shouldn't, it still feels good to be enough. At least one person in this world values her enough to want to keep her company, and only her company. The little girl whose parents had left her on Jakku clings to that greedily. But he would alienate her from everyone else to get it, and the more that sinks in, the more deliberate his previous successes feel.
He is blocking her way off the bed. And speaking to him through the curtain feels somehow easier, so she doesn't move to disturb him. They have nowhere to go anyway. Her stomach is growling, but she seldom notices that. It is as familiar as breathing. ]
I was staying with Poe. [ He had never asked, and because it was no longer his business, she had never told him. Now she feels some spiteful reprieve in its necessity to the rest of her argument: ] He'll notice that I'm gone. He'll care. He won't let Hathaway leave without us.
[ Because Poe is a hero. A good person, like Ben tries to resist being. ]
[Though his facade of sleepy calm does not seem to break, there is a ripple of defensive annoyance on the other side of the bond. He does not like the way she talks of him, as if he is somehow better and preferable company.]
What Hathaway does is not up to Poe Dameron. Or you. Or me.
[Though he enunciates his consonants somewhat tartly, his voice remains steady.]
I know you prefer Dameron's company. Does that satisfy you?
Does it satisfy me that you're missing the point? No.
[ Her preferences had no bearing on the fact that Poe would not leave her here. And preferring his company was not why she had stayed with him—it was to give Kylo his space because he wouldn't, or couldn't, give her what she needed. She's sour to have it turned back on her.
Ben could be like that. Ben could be that kind of person. Instead, he wants her all to himself, and he cares about no one else. As long as they're stuck here, she'll never see a change in that. He'd never put himself on the line for a stranger, and anyone who might have been his friend is ...
Well, if Hathaway is really gone, at least. She tries to push that possibility from her mind. Trust in the Force. ] Forget it.
[ Sharp and stinging, Rey seethes at his contradictions. She rips the curtain aside, right out from under his weight, and shoves him aside so she can get past him. This isn't a conversation to have secondhand anymore. At least she'd possessed the good sense to keep her pants on when she slept around him this time. It's easier, having touched Gram, to recognize that Kylo Ren's steady slide back into his old habits is inevitable. Just a matter of time before they have it out like this again.
She rounds on him, huffing. ]
I'm giving us hope that we aren't trapped here. A way out. [ He doesn't get to be angry that no one would come for him when she had. She would again. She's here now. And he's alienated everyone else on purpose. He can't want the benefits of being known and loved without being willing to offer the same, without being willing to make himself vulnerable to anyone, while disdaining the concept to her. ]
[Kylo grunts softly when she shoves him after ripping the curtain away, but he does not move to get up when she stands over him, instead tilting his chin upward to look at her with half lidded eyes.]
False hope.
[He corrects her, as they both are fully aware of the circumstances they are in. He is being too harsh, he knows -- but he does not care too much, in this instance. If they are going to be stuck like this, in a small space and possibly living on this planet forever.]
[ Snarling, Rey spits back— ] It wasn't just for you.
[ But he would take that from her too. Force her to join him in miserable resignation, or at least come to terms with being trapped with him. Never mind that she would only be settling for his company, if there is no way out of here. If. She tries not to think about it in certain terms, even as he abuses the frail sliver of hope she has made for herself in Poe Dameron.
Tears burn in her eyes, and though she's not ashamed of the sentiments themselves, she's frustrated with herself for giving him the chance to wound her in that way. Again. ]
[His head tilts to the side, and he cannot help the exhaustion that seeps into his limbs. It isn't simply born of Rey's reaction to his harsh truths, but also the fact that he had not slept as of yet.
Her anger is a warm flame on the other end of the bond. Were circumstances different, he might have basked in it. But instead, its light sears his eyes.]
If that's true — if — then you'll never get what you want.
[ It will never be possible for him. ]
I can't choose you over them if they're not here. So you'd better hope they don't leave us behind.
[ It's a potentially cruel, potentially risky button to press. But it's the truth as she sees it, so Rey grabs onto it now that he has backed her into a corner and stolen the only thing she had left from her. Taken the very weakness he had consoled her for, the moment that had made her treasure his compassion and understanding of her, and wielded it against her. He would make her regret everything she'd ever shared with him if he could.
She didn't want to let him dig that far, sabotage himself that completely. But the problem has always been that she is more invested in his betterment than he is. ]
[It works. Something seizes on the other end of the bond, and all of his limbs grow tense, but he has nothing to shoot back at her this time. He becomes eerily still and quiet, his tired glance shifting to something furious and hurt.]
No. I suppose you can't.
[Now is when he finally moves, nothing but limbs as he backpedals through the curtain and to the bed. He very nearly makes another remark about false hope, but he doesn't have the energy for it.
He forces his body to go limp on the bed, though he is wound tightly like a spring in spite of it.]
[ Watching him retreat, Rey doesn't feel like she won.
It feels like the blood has drained from her body, like the storm will never pass, like the room has grown smaller, quieter, colder. Rey looks away. She can't stand to watch him like this. Instead, she picks up the device that Rost had charged them to find. Turning it over in her hands only makes her want to throw it at the wall. The metal is cold and unforgiving, just like this whole damned city.
She does not want to win when winning demands fighting against him. She wants them on the same side. She wants to feel close to him like she did before. Briefly, piteously, she looks over her shoulder at him. She's lucky that she slept first. Lying there in sheets that smelled of him would destroy her. That was the real reason she'd left their room at the hotel. She couldn't stand to sleep in a place that still felt like him, nor could she stand to see those markers of him erased.
Even now she just wants to crawl in beside him. But she can't force him. And she can't settle. So loneliness it is. She watches through the window as the rain stops. ]
[Kylo continues to lie there, wound and yet still, staring bleakly at the ceiling. His heart rate continues to rise for every moment there is silence, and every second Rey stays on the other side of the room. And as the silence lingers, so does the mounting understanding that he has no rebuttal, nothing to say in return.
The loneliness he can feel only intensifies the feeling of being smothered. He notes that the sound of the rain pattering on the glass has halted. In an effort to drive off the unpleasantness, he reaches up and starts to scratch at his chest uselessly.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.]
Come here.
[He says it suddenly, after a long moment of silence.]
[ He can't have her when he wants and discard her when her needs are inconvenient. She won't go to him pretending things are anything but what they are. If he cannot make himself better, then she cannot bend.
She turns to look at him, at least, but her eyes are full of hurt and resentment. ]
[He reframes it after only a beat, without looking at her. There's a slight squirm when he says it, something that might have been passed off as an attempt to get comfortable, were there not the feeling of being pinned by her resentful stare on the other side of the room.
He doesn't quite wilt, but the sentiment is there.]
[ It's not that easy. It might have been, before. But Rey doesn't soften this time. He's really fucked it up, turning away from her for no reason other than a refusal to be the person she had seen in him, the one she deserves. ]
Why? [ That word isn't magic anymore. The problem goes beyond mannerisms to mindset. She won't conflate his disposition towards her with any meaningful change this time. ]
[He keeps scratching, until his skin feels raw under the threadbare shirt. When he speaks, it is slow and halting, like he is trying to unearth each word from something heavy that it is buried under.]
Because. I do not want to die here. In this city. Alone.
[But that's not quite all of it, is it? This pause is longer.]
[ He has always excelled in taking her words in the worst way possible. This doesn't surprise her anymore. It's strange how completely she has rid herself of illusions about him. No. Not rid herself. Loki had rid her. She couldn't have done it without him either.
Would he think of her and Kylo? Would he try to stop the departure? ]
I'm not going to forgive you for hurting me just because you think we're going to die. If you want forgiveness, do better. [ It sounds cruel now to say it, but she's also not preoccupied with their immediate deaths. They have time at the very least. ]
[He sees no path to earning her forgiveness now, when they are here alone like this. Whatever had seemed insurmountable before, it is twice so now.
He finally turns over now, propping himself up on his arms. To look over at her. His hair is a mess -- too long, pressed flat by how he had been both laying and sitting. It obscures one of his dark eyes.]
[ For too many reasons to list. In fact, the suggestion insults her. Does he not realize that it would hurt her more to be that close to him, knowing she's not important enough for him to grapple with his own shit?
This is the boundary now. Rey won't allow them to creep into some uneasy middle. If they're not together, they're not together. It's as easy as that. Letting boundaries become suggestions, letting 'try' be good enough, was how she'd opened herself to being hurt in the first place. She was desperate for companionship then.
She won't let it happen again. Being alone in this place would be better than being with him, knowing she would never be good enough. ]
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Good.
He turns then to stalk toward the singular bed, momentarily glancing around before settling in the corner on the other side of where she had grabbed at the curtain. Slowly, he slides and lets himself sink to the floor, his knees spread apart and his arms resting on either one. She is perfrctly in his line of sight, as is the door.]
Pleasant dreams, then.
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She doesn't probe at it. There's nothing good there. Instead, she wrestles with sleep. Rey spends a not insignificant time tossing and turning, trying to find peace. But on one side, her comfortable side, she faces his presence, and on the other side, her shoulder pinches. She pulls the curtain shut to obscure him from her view, but it's only when she accepts that she won't be able to ignore his presence anyway, thanks to the bond, that she finally falls asleep, facing towards that curtain, towards him.
Her sleep is fitful, plagued by dreams that don't take a full shape. dark specters and endless rain haunt them, most of which are hers, but their tumultuous nature is all owed to his nerves. In her vulnerable state, her mind lies open to him. That trust is the only real counter to the insult of his wish for pleasant dreams anyway. But bleeding around the edges is that same old loneliness that she thought she had escaped with him.
Turns out they'd just hidden from it a while. It came back to claim them, eventually. ]
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But he knows that he aches when he comes back to the presence of his own mind. All of his bones feel heavy, his chest and stomach twisted in knots of what he recognizes as loneliness -- much of which is owed to Rey, but amplified by his own miserable self.
It's a bittersweet feeling. He does not smile for it, but it does coax his head to languidly rest against the mattress. It's not real contact -- and he isn't really searching for the connection that comes with it. It's an idle sort of melancholy that he doesn't engage with so much as exist in a constant state of.
It is a blanket. He finds comfort and familiarity in it, where Rey finds distress. But it means he does not spend time fighting for his own space.]
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Shame descends immediately. Shoulders hunched, she wipes her mouth with her hand where sleep has caused spit to run down the side of her face. It covers her efforts to compose herself, hides it from even her own mind.
This is precisely the trouble of Ben Solo. In a life defined by absence, his presence is something she aches for, even when she knows it would not be enough. Rey breathes slowly through her nose to stay calm as it hits her: What if Kylo Ren is right, again? He had been on Hanabira, after all. His pessimism was not without a track record.
What if they don't meet up with Hathaway? What if they have already left? What if the two of them are stuck here in Drakstaden, alone, with no one else familiar to them? Would she try to make a life with other local natives who know nothing of her life and where she came from? Or would she let herself get sucked back into his orbit?
She can hear him breathing out there. On the other side of the curtain. Rey settles against the wall and quietly says without malice, ] This is what you wanted. [ They're alone now. Truly. No complications or competing allegiances to take her from him. ]
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Not quite.
[But close, for a certainty. He might have gotten them where he wanted them to be, but he could still feel Rey's pain on the other end of the bond. The way she had just recoiled from him. The peril they faced on the other side of the door.]
But I mind it less than many alternatives.
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He is blocking her way off the bed. And speaking to him through the curtain feels somehow easier, so she doesn't move to disturb him. They have nowhere to go anyway. Her stomach is growling, but she seldom notices that. It is as familiar as breathing. ]
I was staying with Poe. [ He had never asked, and because it was no longer his business, she had never told him. Now she feels some spiteful reprieve in its necessity to the rest of her argument: ] He'll notice that I'm gone. He'll care. He won't let Hathaway leave without us.
[ Because Poe is a hero. A good person, like Ben tries to resist being. ]
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What Hathaway does is not up to Poe Dameron. Or you. Or me.
[Though he enunciates his consonants somewhat tartly, his voice remains steady.]
I know you prefer Dameron's company. Does that satisfy you?
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[ Her preferences had no bearing on the fact that Poe would not leave her here. And preferring his company was not why she had stayed with him—it was to give Kylo his space because he wouldn't, or couldn't, give her what she needed. She's sour to have it turned back on her.
Ben could be like that. Ben could be that kind of person. Instead, he wants her all to himself, and he cares about no one else. As long as they're stuck here, she'll never see a change in that. He'd never put himself on the line for a stranger, and anyone who might have been his friend is ...
Well, if Hathaway is really gone, at least. She tries to push that possibility from her mind. Trust in the Force. ] Forget it.
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[Equally careless, he does not so much as twitch this time. He seals himself up behind that cold wall of bitterness that he is so practiced at doing]
Or to remind me that no one will come for me?
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[ Sharp and stinging, Rey seethes at his contradictions. She rips the curtain aside, right out from under his weight, and shoves him aside so she can get past him. This isn't a conversation to have secondhand anymore. At least she'd possessed the good sense to keep her pants on when she slept around him this time. It's easier, having touched Gram, to recognize that Kylo Ren's steady slide back into his old habits is inevitable. Just a matter of time before they have it out like this again.
She rounds on him, huffing. ]
I'm giving us hope that we aren't trapped here. A way out. [ He doesn't get to be angry that no one would come for him when she had. She would again. She's here now. And he's alienated everyone else on purpose. He can't want the benefits of being known and loved without being willing to offer the same, without being willing to make himself vulnerable to anyone, while disdaining the concept to her. ]
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False hope.
[He corrects her, as they both are fully aware of the circumstances they are in. He is being too harsh, he knows -- but he does not care too much, in this instance. If they are going to be stuck like this, in a small space and possibly living on this planet forever.]
I don't want or need false hope, Rey.
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[ But he would take that from her too. Force her to join him in miserable resignation, or at least come to terms with being trapped with him. Never mind that she would only be settling for his company, if there is no way out of here. If. She tries not to think about it in certain terms, even as he abuses the frail sliver of hope she has made for herself in Poe Dameron.
Tears burn in her eyes, and though she's not ashamed of the sentiments themselves, she's frustrated with herself for giving him the chance to wound her in that way. Again. ]
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[His head tilts to the side, and he cannot help the exhaustion that seeps into his limbs. It isn't simply born of Rey's reaction to his harsh truths, but also the fact that he had not slept as of yet.
Her anger is a warm flame on the other end of the bond. Were circumstances different, he might have basked in it. But instead, its light sears his eyes.]
It's just us. Again. Whether we live or we die.
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[ It will never be possible for him. ]
I can't choose you over them if they're not here. So you'd better hope they don't leave us behind.
[ It's a potentially cruel, potentially risky button to press. But it's the truth as she sees it, so Rey grabs onto it now that he has backed her into a corner and stolen the only thing she had left from her. Taken the very weakness he had consoled her for, the moment that had made her treasure his compassion and understanding of her, and wielded it against her. He would make her regret everything she'd ever shared with him if he could.
She didn't want to let him dig that far, sabotage himself that completely. But the problem has always been that she is more invested in his betterment than he is. ]
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No. I suppose you can't.
[Now is when he finally moves, nothing but limbs as he backpedals through the curtain and to the bed. He very nearly makes another remark about false hope, but he doesn't have the energy for it.
He forces his body to go limp on the bed, though he is wound tightly like a spring in spite of it.]
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It feels like the blood has drained from her body, like the storm will never pass, like the room has grown smaller, quieter, colder. Rey looks away. She can't stand to watch him like this. Instead, she picks up the device that Rost had charged them to find. Turning it over in her hands only makes her want to throw it at the wall. The metal is cold and unforgiving, just like this whole damned city.
She does not want to win when winning demands fighting against him. She wants them on the same side. She wants to feel close to him like she did before. Briefly, piteously, she looks over her shoulder at him. She's lucky that she slept first. Lying there in sheets that smelled of him would destroy her. That was the real reason she'd left their room at the hotel. She couldn't stand to sleep in a place that still felt like him, nor could she stand to see those markers of him erased.
Even now she just wants to crawl in beside him. But she can't force him. And she can't settle. So loneliness it is. She watches through the window as the rain stops. ]
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The loneliness he can feel only intensifies the feeling of being smothered. He notes that the sound of the rain pattering on the glass has halted. In an effort to drive off the unpleasantness, he reaches up and starts to scratch at his chest uselessly.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.]
Come here.
[He says it suddenly, after a long moment of silence.]
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[ He can't have her when he wants and discard her when her needs are inconvenient. She won't go to him pretending things are anything but what they are. If he cannot make himself better, then she cannot bend.
She turns to look at him, at least, but her eyes are full of hurt and resentment. ]
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[He reframes it after only a beat, without looking at her. There's a slight squirm when he says it, something that might have been passed off as an attempt to get comfortable, were there not the feeling of being pinned by her resentful stare on the other side of the room.
He doesn't quite wilt, but the sentiment is there.]
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Why? [ That word isn't magic anymore. The problem goes beyond mannerisms to mindset. She won't conflate his disposition towards her with any meaningful change this time. ]
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Because. I do not want to die here. In this city. Alone.
[But that's not quite all of it, is it? This pause is longer.]
Knowing that you still hate me, like this.
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[ He has always excelled in taking her words in the worst way possible. This doesn't surprise her anymore. It's strange how completely she has rid herself of illusions about him. No. Not rid herself. Loki had rid her. She couldn't have done it without him either.
Would he think of her and Kylo? Would he try to stop the departure? ]
I'm not going to forgive you for hurting me just because you think we're going to die. If you want forgiveness, do better. [ It sounds cruel now to say it, but she's also not preoccupied with their immediate deaths. They have time at the very least. ]
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[He sees no path to earning her forgiveness now, when they are here alone like this. Whatever had seemed insurmountable before, it is twice so now.
He finally turns over now, propping himself up on his arms. To look over at her. His hair is a mess -- too long, pressed flat by how he had been both laying and sitting. It obscures one of his dark eyes.]
That is why I only asked for your company.
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[ For too many reasons to list. In fact, the suggestion insults her. Does he not realize that it would hurt her more to be that close to him, knowing she's not important enough for him to grapple with his own shit?
This is the boundary now. Rey won't allow them to creep into some uneasy middle. If they're not together, they're not together. It's as easy as that. Letting boundaries become suggestions, letting 'try' be good enough, was how she'd opened herself to being hurt in the first place. She was desperate for companionship then.
She won't let it happen again. Being alone in this place would be better than being with him, knowing she would never be good enough. ]
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[His stare is unmoving now, except for the small glimpses he steals in search for a change in body language. Some sign that he might reach for.
When he finds nothing, he squirms into a sitting position, and then a standing one.]
I will.
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