[ jyn isn't the first person to follow him somewhere. melshi had followed him to the rebellion, for conviction as much as the personal. cassian had recruited, collaborated with, numerous people within the alliance, and many of them took up the cause of scarif because he asked. it feels similar, and different. because jyn has her own reasons for wanting to leave zenith, but there isn't just reason or duty or cause to this. she wants him. there's no question that she wants him.
and it's terrifying.
will jyn grow to regret her love, as others who have loved him did? will this, the wanting him, hurt her as it has others? will he let her down as he did his family, his home? won't she suffer for it? and the love, the choice to return to jyn, is a commitment; it's one he made with open eyes. but — there's still a contradiction between them. jyn wants him. he wants her to live. he doesn't have it in himself to want life.
she pulls him back in, more insistent than the last time, and he follows. of course he does. his free hand goes to her hair, brushes it backwards blindly, fingers trailing till they find the back of her neck. he pulls her closer as they kiss, narrows his attention to her soft lips, to the warmth of her, to the nearby thudding of her heartbeat.
he doesn't have it in himself to want life, but he does want her. he does want this — quiet moments where nothing else and no one else exists. he's lived with pain for so long that he'd forgotten how its absence felt. that even these glimmers of time without it, when she overwhelms his senses and blurs out everything else, are breathtaking. before, he'd used sex to drown out the noise. with jyn, with others before her. but this is different. this is devoting the whole of his attention to her, to cherish her, because he wants to give that to her, because he wants to spend his life on doing that. this love is not a bandage over his pain, but a counterpoint to it.
he has always wanted a better galaxy so someone else should not suffer. for the first time in a long time, he wants something for himself. ]
no subject
and it's terrifying.
will jyn grow to regret her love, as others who have loved him did? will this, the wanting him, hurt her as it has others? will he let her down as he did his family, his home? won't she suffer for it? and the love, the choice to return to jyn, is a commitment; it's one he made with open eyes. but — there's still a contradiction between them. jyn wants him. he wants her to live. he doesn't have it in himself to want life.
she pulls him back in, more insistent than the last time, and he follows. of course he does. his free hand goes to her hair, brushes it backwards blindly, fingers trailing till they find the back of her neck. he pulls her closer as they kiss, narrows his attention to her soft lips, to the warmth of her, to the nearby thudding of her heartbeat.
he doesn't have it in himself to want life, but he does want her. he does want this — quiet moments where nothing else and no one else exists. he's lived with pain for so long that he'd forgotten how its absence felt. that even these glimmers of time without it, when she overwhelms his senses and blurs out everything else, are breathtaking. before, he'd used sex to drown out the noise. with jyn, with others before her. but this is different. this is devoting the whole of his attention to her, to cherish her, because he wants to give that to her, because he wants to spend his life on doing that. this love is not a bandage over his pain, but a counterpoint to it.
he has always wanted a better galaxy so someone else should not suffer. for the first time in a long time, he wants something for himself. ]