You've been staring at the ceiling for ten minutes, trying unsuccessfully to get out of bed. Dread weighs heavily on your heart. It crushes your lungs and makes it damn near impossible to breathe. It ties your gut in knots, leaving you with lingering nausea that kills your appetite.
Outside, the sun starts to rise over the horizon. Rays of light peek through the blinds—a sliver of gold slicing through the darkness in the room.
He'll be leaving soon, you think. I should get up.
Right. He'll be leaving soon.
The mere thought is a gut punch. You swallow the bile that threatens to rise in your throat and force yourself into an upright position. Ignoring the persistent ache in your chest, you drag yourself out of bed and put on some clothes.
In the refresher, you stare down your reflection in the mirror. The image that greets you is pitiful. Bloodshot eyes. Tangled hair. A face that isn't so clean-shaven anymore, bits of stubble dotting sun-kissed skin.
Never looked better.
The sarcastic thought is vaporized as you splash water on your face, reeling from the cold shock. It doesn't help much, but at least you don't feel like you're about to pass out.
Get ahold of yourself. This is for the best.
Banx greets you at the door with his usual mrow and you give his head a half-hearted stroke as you pass by. You notice that Din's door is open and can't stop yourself from taking a peek inside. The bed has been neatly made, the curtains are drawn open to let the sunlight in, and Din's armor is gone.
At that moment, Din calls your name, having heard your footsteps. The hallway seems to stretch on forever as you make your way to the main living space, your heart pounding against your chest.
Din waits in the living room, looking identical to the man you met that cold night—a hunter clad in beskar with an aura of mystery surrounding him. He has the child on his hip, tucked away in a makeshift satchel that won't interfere with his gun holster.
"All set, huh?" You remark with a forced smile, trying not to let your voice crack. "Would you like some food for the journey? I have plenty to give."
Din shifts his weight, seemingly anxious. "If it's not too much trouble. I would greatly appreciate eating anything other than ration bars." His tone is reserved, but you can almost sense the softness that he's struggling to contain.
He's trying to let go.
You nod, looking him over once more before turning to head into the kitchen. There, you gather up a few leftovers that won't perish for a while so that he can enjoy them whenever. Focusing on such a task helps you forget about what's to come, though you're once again reminded as you wrap the food in colorful cloths and tie them into bundles.
The bundles were small and light, making them easy for Din to carry. Traveling light was key when making long journeys, though he was probably used to carrying weight around due to the heaviness of his beskar armor. One less thing to worry about.
After a moment, Din says your name and then pauses, as if he's unsure about continuing. You watch him intently, silently withstanding the towering waves of emotion that crash down on you.
"I'm sorry, I..." He trails off and looks down. There's a slight quiver to his voice.
"It's okay." You smile and give his arm a squeeze. "I know."
Din lifts his head to meet your gaze, though you can only see your reflection in the visor of his helmet. Your mind flashes back to last night. You recall how good it felt to kiss him—how wonderful it was to finally get some physical affection after going so long without it. And for once, it hadn't been one-sided.
YOU ARE READING
State of Grace || The Mandalorian
Fanfictionm!reader x din djarin ••• He's brought to you in the middle of the night, battered and bloodied. You know nothing of his kind, nor where he comes from. What you do know is that he is feared by many, and loved by few. Perhaps that will change. High...
