iprotectyou (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iprotectyou) wrote2017-08-20 11:22 pm
iprotectyou) wrote2017-08-20 11:22 pm
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OOM/IM: The Nightmare
In darkness, cold.
In light, cold.
The old sun brings no heat.
But there is heat in breath and life... and death.
In all, there is the Force.
And the Force is eternal.
The night is still, and the two Jedhans are sleeping. The smaller Jedhan is splayed out on his stomach across his and the larger one's still-pushed-together beds, feet resting on Baze's shoulder. Chirrut has already stolen all the blankets, as is his nightly wont, and breathes deeply in repose.
Until a quiet noise--bordering on a sob--rouses him.
"Baze?" Chirrut murmurs, raising his groggy head.
"No," Baze mumbles in his sleep. He sucks in a great gasp, tossing and turning on the sheets. Chirrut can't see that Baze's knuckles are white from the force of his clenched fists, but the smaller man can feel the tension vibrating in the larger man's frame once Chirrut places a hand on Baze's chest. "Chirrut, come! No! No!"
"Baze!" Chirrut says, shaking him. "Wake up!"
And Baze Malbus wakes up screaming.
In light, cold.
The old sun brings no heat.
But there is heat in breath and life... and death.
In all, there is the Force.
And the Force is eternal.
The night is still, and the two Jedhans are sleeping. The smaller Jedhan is splayed out on his stomach across his and the larger one's still-pushed-together beds, feet resting on Baze's shoulder. Chirrut has already stolen all the blankets, as is his nightly wont, and breathes deeply in repose.
Until a quiet noise--bordering on a sob--rouses him.
"Baze?" Chirrut murmurs, raising his groggy head.
"No," Baze mumbles in his sleep. He sucks in a great gasp, tossing and turning on the sheets. Chirrut can't see that Baze's knuckles are white from the force of his clenched fists, but the smaller man can feel the tension vibrating in the larger man's frame once Chirrut places a hand on Baze's chest. "Chirrut, come! No! No!"
"Baze!" Chirrut says, shaking him. "Wake up!"
And Baze Malbus wakes up screaming.
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It's progress, he supposes. Not great progress, but progress all the same.
"Stop it, how can there be such a thing as owing, between us, after so long?" Chirrut demands, fiercely.
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Baze chews on the inside of his cheek, mulling over his words. "There isn't," he says, and it's the only rational conclusion he can come to.
Something inside of Baze breaks, but instead of crying again, he feels more at peace. It hurts, but it's the kind of slow burn that hurts after a good round of honest sparring, not a fight with his friend.
"I'm sorry, Chirrut. I shouldn't have--I'm sorry."
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"I forgive you, my heart. I forgive you." He'll just have to go on repeating himself until Baze really believes it.
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"I believe you," Baze says. He doesn't joke, saying, 'I heard you the first time,' because Baze has never been very good at making light of situations like these, always needing reassurance over humor.
"Would you like to spar? I'm too keyed up to sleep."
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