A/N This piece was originally intended to be in my story "Comfort's Such A Privilege", but because it seemed to work so well on its own, and I couldn't quite find a place for it, I decided to post it by itself.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star wars.
It killed him, the almost touching.
It was like tilting one's head back during a hard rain and receiving no water.
And the anticipation.
Blast, the anticipation...
Waiting for those hands, those fingers to grace him...
It was appalling, really.
How much he wanted it.
If she would just reach out to him, and...
- No.
He had to shake this.
Quick.
Where were these thoughts coming from?
What was he thinking?
But...how would it feel is she just-
Stop.
Enough.
Calm down.
Relax.
It would pass.
It always did.
But then it would resurface...
Blast.
How could he kill this?
What could distract him?
Anything? Everything?
Something had to work.
Maybe if he just focused on the Force...
Yes...
Let himself get lost in it...
Blast.
She was there too.
So vibrant, so strong.
She was everywhere.
His vision, his thoughts.
His heart, his mind.
She consumed him.
Body and soul.
And it burned him to his core.