[Wide eyes lift from the floor to meet her own at that simplest touch. Such a gesture had never once seemed strange with his mother: she'd been as tactile as protective, and their only solace had been in the fact that they still had one another. But half a year in the Jedi Temple has undone nearly a decade of that comfort and trust: it had been a connection suddenly deemed dangerous, childish, and wrong, as if any tactile comfort at all was not only unnecessary, but some kind of luxury to be cast off.
It all rushes back, the memories, the warmth of that love, and the homesickness (the worst of all of it), all in that gentle hand under his chin.
He loves her, he thinks. He isn't sure why, or how it happened. Only that it's different from his mother, and no less comforting. The pull has always been there, and he's always found her intriguing, this angel among the rest. He'll never be convinced that loving his mother is wrong, and no one will be able to tell him this is either. She cares, more than most anyone he's met since leaving home. How is caring about someone, helping them, befriending them, how is any of this wrong? He loves her, he knows it. Someday he might even know what that means.]
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It all rushes back, the memories, the warmth of that love, and the homesickness (the worst of all of it), all in that gentle hand under his chin.
He loves her, he thinks. He isn't sure why, or how it happened. Only that it's different from his mother, and no less comforting. The pull has always been there, and he's always found her intriguing, this angel among the rest. He'll never be convinced that loving his mother is wrong, and no one will be able to tell him this is either. She cares, more than most anyone he's met since leaving home. How is caring about someone, helping them, befriending them, how is any of this wrong? He loves her, he knows it. Someday he might even know what that means.]
It doesn't feel like it. And I'm trying. Honest!