[ He is as brazen and open as she had once been with him. Noticing this startles her. She has closed off from him, in contrast, waiting for some sign of trust to soften her again. Rey is stunned, temporarily frozen, by the kiss. It steals her breath, and she searches his face for that moment's hesitation--for an explanation. There is none. He'd simply wanted to. The brief connection of the empathy bond had revealed that in perfect clarity.
And why not? They have already kissed. She had returned it, the night of the UNA attack. Wounded and frail and trembling under the water of his shower, she had leaned into this because she knew no other way. For some reason, repeating it by the light of day demands definition. She is all too aware now of the nature of this outing.
No, not some reason. She knows the reason. ]
I'm the one waiting.
[ She says it with some resolve. Giving this voice now runs the risk of ruining the whole evening, but she is not well-versed in social graces, and she has no want to hold herself back. Now that she sees the evening for what it is--not a group of friends gathered, but two pairs; Force, she's stupid to have not noticed Daisy's working before--she is keenly aware of how she has been waiting.
The only reason she doesn't surge to reclaim that kiss and overpower him with a hungrier one is that she's waiting. Waiting for him to make a decision about the conflict that stirs inside him. ]
Stop doing that. [ Her chest aches in protest. She does not want it to stop, not really. But it's confusing; she never knows if she's kissing Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. This is an oversimplification, of course, in that she knows he is both in either case, but she does not want her desire for him to be misconstrued as permission for his vacillating.
Some part of her complains that it makes no difference--that whether or not she's kissing him doesn't change how invested they have both become. But it does. It's a foothold for so much more. ]
no subject
And why not? They have already kissed. She had returned it, the night of the UNA attack. Wounded and frail and trembling under the water of his shower, she had leaned into this because she knew no other way. For some reason, repeating it by the light of day demands definition. She is all too aware now of the nature of this outing.
No, not some reason. She knows the reason. ]
I'm the one waiting.
[ She says it with some resolve. Giving this voice now runs the risk of ruining the whole evening, but she is not well-versed in social graces, and she has no want to hold herself back. Now that she sees the evening for what it is--not a group of friends gathered, but two pairs; Force, she's stupid to have not noticed Daisy's working before--she is keenly aware of how she has been waiting.
The only reason she doesn't surge to reclaim that kiss and overpower him with a hungrier one is that she's waiting. Waiting for him to make a decision about the conflict that stirs inside him. ]
Stop doing that. [ Her chest aches in protest. She does not want it to stop, not really. But it's confusing; she never knows if she's kissing Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. This is an oversimplification, of course, in that she knows he is both in either case, but she does not want her desire for him to be misconstrued as permission for his vacillating.
Some part of her complains that it makes no difference--that whether or not she's kissing him doesn't change how invested they have both become. But it does. It's a foothold for so much more. ]