Remember Tomorrow (Complete)

[Kuzo]

While he saw her words as the softness to a truth she refused to speak, she saw them as the closest thing she could offer. 'I won't' would have been a promise she didn't know if she could keep. 'I am trying' was the only truth she had to offer him, even if it wasn't the comfort of the words he wanted to hear.

His fingers had dug in hard enough that, as he relaxed them, small bruises were left in their wake. It was not the first time of course, but previous ones had been left in passion and desire. Somehow, these were different. Very different indeed.

When he finally spoke again, she closed her eyes. Better that than to let him see just how badly she wanted him to stay. She'd finally told him what had weighed for weeks, and what she needed then was gentleness- she needed him there, warm and holding her.

And, for a brief moment, she hated that she did.

"Of course," she murmured softly, trying to mask the tightness in her voice.

She had never before asked him to stay. He came and went like a well fed cat, knowing that the door was open and never barred in either direction. The one thing she had never done, was attempt to lay any claim to him or his attentions. And as much as all she wanted to do was ask him to stay, she kept to the status quo, because as much as it hurt, it was safer that way.

To ask him to stay risked him saying 'no', and right now, at least, better to not ask at all. Better to risk no disappointment at all, than to open that door and admit that, just perhaps, she needed him.

"Of course," she repeated, slowly drawing her hands away. "If that's what you need."

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

In some regards, it was what he needed, but as he moved to stand and don the loose overshirt he often wore, he couldn’t help but second guess himself. The idea of staying, spending the entirety of their time together so long as they could; to enjoy the last fleeting moments of happiness before gambling it away. To subject himself to the beauty that was open empathy, allowing their hearts to flutter in the dying breeze and see just where the seeds of their passion would end.

But he wouldn’t.

As the words fought to be said, he put on his pants and fixed his hair. With an internal struggle the likes of titans killing gods taking place in the very depths of his soul, he sat on the edge of the bed and strapped on either of his boots.

The final cries of a child searching for love rang through his mind as he offered her a final glance, a smile, and closing the door behind him. He never said goodbye, not out of neglect or forgetfulness, but because he couldn’t let the door of their relation close. His feet carried him far from the woman, onto his transport and back to the dock he landed on.

With the engines whirring to life, and The Slave in the back, a soft silence overtook him. As the ship moved to meet the sky, he hunched over, bringing his chest to his knees as a dry heave left him gasping for air in the solemn isolation that was the rear end of the transport.

He only prayed the driver couldn’t hear him.

│ [member="Irajah Ven"] │

 

[Kuzo]

She kept her eyes closed, still and quiet as he moved about the room. It was impossible to not hear the soft slide of fabric. To feel him perch again on the edge of the bed. She almost reached out, almost grasped his wrist then. If she had, she would have pulled him close and whispered just two words to him.

Stay. Please.

But instead she remained motionless. She didn't speak, didn't call out to say good-bye when she heard the door open. Irajah didn't trust her own voice in that moment, and refused to give it the freedom to betray her.

She didn't move until she heard the door close again.

Eyes closed, she had missed his final smile.

Rolling over to her side, back to the door, she curled in on herself. It wasn't until the last of his footsteps drew to silence in the hallway that she drew in a hard, shaking breath. Then a second. And a third. At that point, she couldn't pretend that they weren't in truth stifled sobs. There, burying her face in the pillow, she finally let them go.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that, when there was finally someone she wanted to ask to stay, that it mattered enough to not be selfish enough to ask.

Outside the door, Terin paused, the back of his knuckled centimeters from knocking on the door. The usual tray for two had been hastily changed back to the solitary meal she took on days [member="The Slave"] wasn't visiting, but the sound of crying through the door told him that, this morning at least, Irajah would not be looking for breakfast. He stayed there for a moment, his heart breaking for her- and torn, for what he knew was coming.

Glancing out the window at the end of the hall, he could see dark clouds on the horizon.

Hopefully, he thought, she can forgive me.

In the distance, he saw the glint of a ship, a speck of silver rising into the early morning sky. The sounds of each sob, muffled by the door, drew his forehead against it with a small sigh.

Hopefully, she can forgive us both.