Stormpilot one shots

And you no longer look with love on me

A/N - Well would you look at that, two new drabbles in one day, it must be a miracle. This one is pretty sad, it's inspired by the poem 'Pity me not because the light of day' by Edna St Vincent Millay, which is a very sad but really beautiful poem, I would definitely recommend that you read it to get a better understanding of the emotions going on in this fic. This is more of a reflection on the end of Finn and Poe's relationship than an actual fic, and has virtually nothing by way of plot progression, but it draws from the poem to show Poe's thoughts about the breakup and yeah, enjoy it :)

It's over. Poe knows that. Poe got the message loud and clear when he  arrived back at his quarters, having cooled off a little after their  fight, to find every single one of Finn's possessions gone, the jacket  Poe had given him folded neatly over his desk chair. Of course, Poe  shouldn't have expected Finn to keep it after their breakup,  but it still hurt all the same. It had been a gift, the first  suggestion that Poe was falling head over heels for him, and here it  was, left behind as if Finn had never owned it at all, with the  exception of the patchily stitched-up gash in the back.

The entire room looked like Finn had never even been there, as though  their entire relationship had been a dream. And what a dream it had  been, until Finn's affection seemed to wane.

Of course it was only to be expected with a young man like Finn. Poe  shouldn't have thought that Finn would be so ready to settle down so  soon after escaping a lifetime of conformity. He needed to experiment,  try new things, get out there, not be tied down by a man in his 30s  looking for something serious. Unfortunately they just weren't quite on  the same page. Maybe in another universe, another life.

Poe  couldn't help but feel the crushing ache, however, when he noted the  bedsheets, still messy from where they had lain only this morning,  tangled up in each other, still seemingly so in love as the morning  light floated through the curtains to dapple their skin .  He couldn't help the unbearable pain when his eyes flickered over the  empty spaces on Poe's desk where Finn's sketchbook had been, and another  where he'd kept small mementos he'd collected from all the planets  he'd  visited since joining the Resistance, from a cool-coloured  rock  to a shell from a beach to a decorated ribbon bought in a busy market  place.

In the time they were together, Finn had managed to leave  his marks  on Poe, like scars on his skin marking him out as Finn's, a tattoo on  his heart that could never be erased, a brand on the back of his eyes  that burned Finn's face into everything he saw.  Finn had impacted him  with such permanency that Poe didn't even know how he could cope without  him.

The end had come so suddenly, and yet it had always been inevitable.  In a way, it was a beautiful ending to a beautiful story, like the sun  setting at the end of a beautiful day, or the seasons drifting from  summer into autumn, or the first rays of sun drawing a close to a  beautiful night. The difference was, however, that the sun would rise  again the next morning to introduce a new day, the seasons would  eventually shift back into summer again the next year, and sure enough  the night would follow the day, while Poe's relationship with Finn was  unrepeatable. It wasn't part of a cycle, or a repetition. It was a  one-time thing. And it was over.

Poe didn't even think the ending was the worst part. Of course it was  the ending that caused this ache in his chest that felt like it would  never fade, but the failure of his heart to recognise the end when his  mind and soul already knew? It was crushing.

His heart still yearned for Finn's presence, his touch, his kiss,  despite his distinct conscious recognition that Finn no longer felt the  same. It was so soul-shattering to feel his heart leap when he saw him  walk past him, or feel his heart pound when he heard his name. Every  fibre of that damned organ still clung to Finn's memory, praying for his  love and affection that Poe would never receive again.

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn
What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

A/N - I hope you liked it, let me know in the comments if you did!

The title is from the poem mentioned above, as is the quote at the end, and a lot of the metaphors are drawn loosely from the poem.