Din Djarin, bounty hunter. Din Djarin, in love.
He sighed.
Could it be possible?
Oh he hoped.
He had started to hope so much lately.
After he had met the boy.
Boy with golden hair and blue eyes. The boy who was Peli's helper, maybe even an apprentice. Eventually. The boy was smart, good mechanic.
Five months ago Din had literally bumped into the boy and they fell along with the stuff that the boy had been carrying. Din had grunted something, the boy had apologized plenty, helped him up and started to gather the mechanical parts. Din had helped. They started to speak about the ship. Peli had asked the boy's help, because Din refused droids touching his ship.
Wormie, Peli had called the boy and the boy blushed. He was sweet and beautiful. Turned nineteen already and wanted to fly a starfighter, but had to help his Uncle at the moisture farm.
He longed to get away.
After that, everytime Din was on the planet he sought the boy.
Wormie, Din called, and the boy blushed. Where everyone else called him Wormie, it was more an insult or nickname, but the name in Din's lips was warm and calling, gentle.
When they finally kissed, it was a dream come true. The boy wore a scarf when Din took off his helmet.
"Come with me." Din asked and the boy nodded.
"After this harvest, I'll come." the boy promised.
"I'll come to get you." He ran his fingers through the boy's hair.
"I will think about something, something different than bounty hunting."
"I don't mind. I can be the pilot. I stay on the ship if I have to. Waiting for you to come back. We'll figure it out."
"I love you."
And Din was back.
With a gift to the boy.
Ready to ask if he would marry the man. Ready to be a clan of two. Ready to let the boy see him, to hear him, to call his name.
Peli was waiting when he landed. And he knew that look.
"Luke… he… I'm sorry Mando." Peli's sorrow was tangible and Din shook his head, denied it.
"Where? Where is he?"
"Lars' farm, it was near Anchorhead. They said that Tusken…"
He got the coordinates.
He fly there.
He saw the graves.
He sat there hours, staring at nameless graves.
Just a week.
Why?
When he finally got up and looked around he knew that no Tusken were plamed, this was someone else.
And it was too late to do anything.
He watched the beskar ring on his palm.
Luke. Lars. Peli had said.
"Ner Wormie. Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi ba'juri verde."
He buried the ring on the sand.