It was brighter than he'd thought it be.
Before, he imagined in great detail that a darkness would descend, consuming every bit of light in it's path. Instead, it was strangely light, sending flares of color through the sky. A burning sensation settled around him, scorching his skin. However, the water lapping at his feet banished it a little bit.
For now at least.
Soon, the water would dry up,and the life flowing through it would return to nothingness.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
Was this the end?
Obviously.
He'd always assumed he'd go out in a crazy manor like this, smoke rising, blinding his vision. He imagined himself coughing, a great deal of pain surging through his body. He imagined he would feel his life leave him with his blood, flowing down his body. It was a gruesome picture, but one he was happy to take.
Why was his terrified through?
The fear he felt inside of him wasn't in the picture he imagined! In the picture, he proved himself to be brave, holding his chin up and laughing as his enemies killed him.
This was different.
This was new.
Yes, he experienced fear before . . . When he ran a dangerous mission or found himself being fired upon, he felt scared. He never felt this raw though, this vulnerable. He never felt this. . . full.
His heart might as well exploded out of his chest that very second as he watched the fire come closer and closer.
Stripped down of brave shows or prideful displays, he knelt down next to her, holding her hand as the water hit his knees. The coolness flushed over him, combatting the rising heat he felt.
She looked back at him. A tumbling sea of emotions floated in her eyes, calling out for something, someone to listen. He squeezed her hand a little bit, as if to remind her that he was still by her side.
She lifted her chin up, and held back the tears that were building up in her eyes. Instead of letting the tears fall, she turned towards the explosion creeping towards them on the horizon.
A pang zinged through his heart.
She still felt the need to hide from him?
Words bubbled at his lips, seconds away from pouring out in front of them. These new thoughts were like an addiction, new yet familiar, thrilling yet settling. The life he saw in her eyes, the joy, the pain was addicting. Mixed with the fear, it was an unparallelled potion unlike anything he'd ever tasted before.
Suddenly, her eyes met his.
Blue.
He hadn't realized that they were such a bright shade of blue.
Beautiful.
In that moment, he knew he loved her. How could it be any other way? He'd known her for only a few hours yet the passion, the fear, the hope was immeasurably perfect.
She was perfect.
He wanted to tell her badly that he loved her. He wanted to jump up and run away with her, never looking back from the fate that was about to he handed to him. He wanted to cry, and tell her he was scared and that he needed her.
He needed her.
As they stared into each other's eyes, doomsday inching nearer and nearer, he wanted to know . . .
He pulled her tightly to him, running his hands up her back, trying to comfort her. Her form shuddered against his, and a few seconds later, he could feel a wet tear that trickled down her cheek falling onto his neck. For a split second, he considered whispering to her that he loved her. He wanted to scream that she gave him hope. He wanted her to know her face was the one he saw when he crawled towards her, injured, to make sure the plans had been transferred. He wanted her to know it was her face was the one he saw when he decided to come on this suicide mission in the first place. It was her face he saw when his hope had been restored.
The water turned warmer and warmer as the explosion of death grew closer and closer to them . . .
They only had a few more seconds . . .
His lips parted, and the faint start of a sentence barely came out, but the sound was soon lost. There was no point, no purpose for him to say anything.
What was the point though?
Their worlds were ending, barely after they joined, and they would have to die with that.
At least he held her once before they went . . .
At least the fire would consume them before the departure of hope.
And that would have to be enough.
Hey Guys!
So I am basically an emotional mess after Rogue One (seriously a huge one.) That final scene where Cassian and Jyn die *wimpers* really struck me. I don't know, but the romances that don't even have a chance are the most tragic of all. It leads to an enormous 'what ifs.' Who said tragic ain't beautiful in its own twisted way though?
Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it!
Much Love,
gotmoreissuesthanvogue