Disclaimer: I do not own Knights of the Old Republic II.
Okay, I got bored in History and started writing this after all the AttonxExile crap I read the night before at a friend's house (all that made me want to finish the game SO bad) and... yeah. Well, I was half asleep (like I said, History) while writing this Angst-y stuff, so... it may not be that good.
Italics with ' and ' around it are the Exile(she/her) thoughts.
Uhm... I was going to put something else here, but... I forgot.
His
words were broken apart, but she could make sentences out of them.
He
was explaining everything. His past. His love.
'How could I have been so blind?'
She loved him. So much.
But she was afraid.
Afraid that if she had expressed her feelings, darkness would seem within every molecule of their bodies—
'That's a lie. I just feared he would leave if I had told him.'
The
grief was just too much. Too much
She
leaned down and rested her head on his chest, tears falling onto his
'lucky' jacket. He reached up with his remaining hand and stroked her
hair softly.
'His will to live... too great... he's in so much pain...'
She leaned up and took his hand away, tearfully staring into chocolate --though sometimes platinum looking– eyes. She saw him smile and heard him laugh, saying that she was too beautiful to cry over him. His words were silenced by a single kiss. Every time he sucked in a breath and exhaled through his nose, she could feel flecks of blood sprinkle her tongue, as he tenderly returned her kiss.
Then he was limp. She stared into his eyes; they were a dark, dark colour, with a glazed tone to it.
She did the only thing that felt important to her; she carefully removed his 'lucky' jacket, which he was wearing at the time, and slid it gently along her slim shoulders.
At last, in a broken, strangled voice, she cried,
"Atton!"