Han felt Luke lean into him, and the shift of reality began to decline like the tides of Tyrena, falling back from every nerve. Solo plunged himself right into it, toward the uncertain contours of dislodged sentiments and reverent possibilities on the rise, moving in a disorganized flurry, windswept within his mind. He’d hunted for it earlier, in the smoky blue veil, devoid of everything he’d ever known the kid as. Don’t look at me like that. Or else I won’t be able to tell the difference anymore. He pulled back and settled Luke’s hand between them, gentle as he coiled his fingers around warm synth-skin, squeezing.
❝So, what’s this?❞ A surrender?
❝Are you giving up — just like that?❞ Han hissed despite himself.
So call me vain … I thought I meant more to you. Damn.
Perceiving the weight of Luke’s expectant stare at him, this time, he dared to lock their gazes. ❝Luke.❞ The voice, sailing up from the tangle of weary souls, was barely reminiscent of Han’s usual tone. Cloth rustled, Han shifting slowly then pulled Luke into his arms as a mix of terror and foreboding, so swift and violent to collide, robbed his breath.
❝I,❞ and struggled to not choke on it. Love you. ❝I’m—❞ always thinking about too much, lately. About what he was, what he wasn’t; what he coveted and what he didn’t. Solo never envied anything but what he couldn’t have. There was an epoch-making conviction in the fact that you’d never really own your life—because then, nobody else could lay claim to it either … Perhaps this had been his most crucial error. And so, Solo fell silent again.
❝You’re all I can think about when it hits me.❞
His tone bordered incredulous, powerless to muzzle the breathless, sporadic laughter that followed the admission. Grief sent a hot wave to roll over his face, from his nose to his eyes, narrowing until a heavy knot formed. Han could feel the strain of it now, the fierce bite of defeat set in his chest, a taint of impotence he hadn’t encountered in ages, not since Hoth. He kept his head down for this one. ❝It’s the only way I get through the night.❞
But his knee-jerk response galvanized a flicker of recollection to flare bright, pulling what resolve he had left from him. Han caught something in the midst of it, rising as a small chill at the back of his neck. A tranced kind of panic before it unfurled into a blackened spite. Han pushed Luke away and staggered back, stumbling until he went down, forehead making solid contact with wooden planks. Registered the sharp throb in his temple; the mind scrambling to and fro, seeking answers—whatever excuse.
Half-slumped, Han reached for a veneer of composure, opposed to challenging the spiraling antinomy, cleaving the very core of him. Reality splintered into countless disconnected fragments—pieces of himself, gone asunder in the wake of carbon freeze and now — this.
Solitude was a shadow rushing into the empty space separating them, and Han could mark the distance widening fast. Absurd to wish he’d allowed a closer bond with Luke, or that Luke could have dropped those firm mental barriers for him—it was instinct, embittered after years of inevitable mistrust and subterfuge. A sense of security was a compromise they couldn’t afford.
A creeping sense of contempt overpowered crawling resentment, pricking the back of his neck until he settled the palm of his right hand over barbed skin, hyper-sensitive as Han attempted to soothe a phantom burn to no avail. Exactly what he expected. There was no sense of ease, nothing to bring him down from the state of tizzy he floated up to—fool. that’s all that you are.
❝This’s it, isn’t it? Waited all these years—for nothin’?❞ Incredulous and bone-stiff, Han’s crooked smile betrayed the rush of years catching up to him. It was evident in the immediate slump of his shoulders, in the blurred motion of his fingers raking brown hair. He blew out a long sigh. For some moments, he closed his eyes into warm, stagnant darkness and imagined all that could’ve been.
❝T’think I thought you wanted this, too.❞
he feels his heart pound faster in his chest when warm arms removed from where they’d enveloped his form, instead nudging him away as he watched that taller figure fall smaller than he’d ever seen him before. words catch heavier in his throat with each passing moment, and for once, the jedi is at a loss. thoughts pass through his head a million words at a time — the most prevalent thought being the overwhelming plea to not let the man he’d loved for years to fade into the background of his memory now.
following this old religion to the very last word would only bring a lingering ache and resentment for having lost han to a set of rules only HE would follow. but many times, skywalker had been warned of his affections and attachment to the people he cared for most. when he’d blatantly disregarded said warnings, it only brought pain to them. as close as he yearned to be, his friends seemed safer the further he happened to be from them.
wordless, he crouches down just beside solo, a careful few feet away as if approaching a wounded animal until mechanized fingers go to rest lightly upon a shoulder blade, a burning need to always feel some sort of contact between the two of them.
“ han, i —— ” a pause, and he considers his words before he allows himself to speak. frustration and confusion furrow his brow, and skywalker has to swallow that same lump in his throat before he can continue.
“ i DO want this. more than anything. i’ve been dreaming about this since that day back on yavin iv. ” lips turn up in bittersweet remembrance of his naivety and ignorant bliss only those few short years ago. the prospect of piloting an x-wing and training with obi-wan being his only concerns. his harbored crush upon han had been idealistic, but perhaps he hadn’t imagined it when he thought maybe those feelings might have been returned.
a thousand memories come flooding back to the forefront of his mind — shared laughter, hoth, chewie, and that hunk of metal he calls a ship. the day they met at mos eisley is really enough to bring that ghost of a smile to a more genuine lift, his left hand raising to cup han’s cheek, feeling the scruff against his fingers.
when he lifts handsome features just enough to meet hazel eyes, luke considers the decision that his mind had seemingly made for him. it’d be one rule. one of the many things he could change. would inevitably change given he’d be recreating a lost order.
something kickstarts his heart, and skywalker surges forward to press their lips together in a kiss that he hopes he won’t be rejected for. the same moments play on repeat in his mind like a holotape — mos eisley, yavin iv, hoth, and their reunion on tatooine. luke only notes the slight tremble of his fingers when they fall away from han’s cheek, gaze ducking away when they part.
“ i don’t want to lose you, han. i —” love you too. “ i want this. ” he wants to try, anyway. something is there, keeping him from saying NO, and sticking to a set of rules he’s meant to enforce on young padawans. he can feel that incessant pull to han as if the galaxy knew they’d always end up this way.