Constellations

chapter three:
the fire

"Love is friendship set on fire." ―Jeremy Taylor

As the sky darkens and the snow picks up, the oddest thought enters Finn's head: blanket forts. It brings a smile to his lips as he glances over at Rey across the fire, and she looks up at him with questioning eyes. "What is it?" she tilts her head to the side slightly, and he wonders if she has any idea how adorable she is? Probably not, but he's painfully aware of it. "Finn?" she presses, and he remembers what he was going to say.

Darn her distracting cuteness.

"Oh, yeah," his smile turns nervous. "Just, this may be kind of weird, but... Do you remember how we used to make blanket forts?"

Rey blinks, taken aback. "Yes?"

"We'd take our bunk mattresses and pillows and sheets and string them all together, and you'd use the Force to keep them secure until I had knotted them properly," Finn's smile grows and he can see a tiny one forming on her lips. "And you tried to hit me with a pillow―"

"Try?" Rey laughs softly. "I succeeded―"

"Yeah, for maybe 5 seconds, and then I pinned you remember?" Rey lets out a loud laugh, shaking her head slightly, and the sound warms him to the core and makes his heart skip a beat. Time, it seems, has done nothing to dull his feelings for her. If anything, it's only made them stronger. And, as he thinks back to that heart-pounding moment of her weight tucked securely under his, he remembers how it was the first time he realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her.

Finn pushes that thought out of his head. Rey's made it clear that thoughts like those won't do either of them any good. Still, at least maybe, they can rebuild their friendship, and he can figure out whatever made him lose it in the first place.

Rey's eyes crinkle at the corners even as her smile fades, and Finn can feel himself burning up under her gaze, never mind how cold the rest of the planet is. Most people wouldn't count crash-landing on the ice planet of Hoth with the First Order surely on their tails as lucky, but as an ex-Stormtrooper ―the first to defect and survive to tell the tale― Finn isn't exactly 'most people' and it suits him just fine. Rey is quite unusual in her own right. They both are, and―what was that saying? Birds of a feather flock together? Or something about X-wings?

Finn thinks about who he was before Rey, in that little deep space in between leaving FN-2187 behind and becoming Finn. Alone, most likely dying of thirst, and lost in more ways than one. A soldier abandoning his army, a man without a purpose except to run away as far as possible. Rey, a lonely scavenger, adept at surviving far more than human relations, who was an expert at collecting lost things. And somewhere along the way, she'd collected his heart. Finn has no plans of taking it back. He just hopes that isn't exactly what's driven her away.

Part of him wants to press it, and get answers, or at least somehow make his feelings more clear, but there's that light in her eyes and he hasn't seen it in so long. He'll do anything to make sure it stays. Loving someone, he supposes, makes your own pain for their sake more bearable. Enough that he hasn't broken under the pressure (yet, anyway).

"How long do you think we have until the First Order starts looking for us?" Rey says, the light in her eyes dying, and he realizes his silence gave her the chance to remember where she is. Who she's with. For the millionth time, he wonders why she insists on shutting him out.

"A day, maybe two," Finn says. "They'll poke around the crash for a while. I don't suppose the weather's blocking out the Force?"

"No...but it does make it fuzzy," Rey says grumpily. "Like I said, I'm almost fully trained. Once I grow stronger in the Force I'll be able to tap into it no matter what the weather, as long as I can let go of emotions to do so. That's when it's most reliable, at least. I've been trying to reach out to Luke, but..."

"We have the advantage of the high ground at least," Finn says, and smiles, but it comes out looking a little sad. "And―and we have each other."

Rey's eyes soften, and then shine and as she says, very softly, "I suppose we do."

Finn's never sat on anything so soft before. The beds of the First Order barracks are sturdy and hard, and the one he had for three months in the Resistance's infirmary was rigid against his injured back, even if he was sure it was actually far softer. The mattress in his quarters is nice, very nice even, but here, lying on the pillows he and Rey carpeted the floor with...this is the best place ever to fall asleep.

Finn can no longer count on one hand how many blanket forts they've made together, and he wonders if this is what a real childhood felt like. What regular people had. Not heavy sleek helmets and rigid memorization and learning how to fire blasters. Or learning to scavenge and build machines and survive in the desert. Maybe he and Rey are late bloomers, but at least they're having fun and figuring out this childhood thing together.

Poe cares greatly for both of them, and vice versa, but there are some things he can't understand, not in the same way Finn and Rey can for each other, and this time, just talking or lying, being alone, is Finn's favourite time of the day. Rey's lying on her back, her arm and leg brushing his, just barely touching, but he feels her heat seared into his skin, knows he'll trace the places with his fingers thoughtfully afterwards, stare at his hands and try to memorize the feel of her palm and fingers against his.

Especially since she'll be gone for two weeks for some sort of special Jedi training, and then three days before she'll be arriving back he'll be jetting off on a mission of his own with Poe, scoping out some kind of intel for the Resistance. They'll just miss each other. He tries not to think how easily they could have missed each other on Jakku, a blip that sped by. He wonders if the Force made sure they meet. He's considered asking, but he also knows he doesn't have a great understanding of how the Force works, and he can't seem to make the words form in his mouth. It feels too personal, or vulnerable, or silly somehow, to suggest that it was the grand plan of the universe that brought him and Rey together, yet he finds some part of him believing it anyhow.

Even if she may not be his whole universe, she's his sun.

"Finn?" Rey's voice is soft, like the gentle touch of her fingers, sliding against his. His fingers curl around hers, squeeze, the warmth and comfort seeping into his skin.

"Yeah?" he hums, turning his head to look at her. Her eyes are glassy as their gazes meet, and he realizes she's on the verge of tears. Before he can ask what's wrong, she answers it for him.

"I'm really going to miss you."

Oh. Finn gives her hand another squeeze and swallows. This is going to be the longest they've been apart since that first six months when Rey had been training on Ach-To with Luke, and it had been nearly unbearable to wait, and he'd been passed out for half of it. And in the three months they've been together, they've only grown closer.

Finn takes his time lacing his fingers through hers, keeping their gazes locked the whole time. "Rey," her name, a single warm syllable that will always be safe in his mouth, that he will never get tired of saying, and the gentleness of his tone catches her off guard for a moment, before her sad expression softens into one that's a little more sweet. "I'm going to miss you too. But we have memories now, and I―I'm okay now."

Rey smiles a little and it warms him to the core. "Just keep coming back to me, okay?"

Finn returns her smile with a soft, broad grin. "Always," he promises. She gives his hand a squeeze, loosens her grip, but doesn't completely pull away, and shifts closer slightly, to rest her head slightly on his shoulder. There's a bunch of pillows around them, but Finn doesn't mind being hers. Not in the slightest.

Her other hand is suddenly resting on his chest, and Rey adjusts her position slightly, and leans in and kisses him softly on the cheek for a few seconds, before pulling away with a rosy blush colouring her cheeks. (Or maybe it's just the string of lights they've hung above their heads, playing tricks on his eyes.) Finn grins at her, heat rushing to his cheeks, burning him up from the inside, and he thinks for a moment that maybe Rey is fire.

She's still fire, Finn realizes, staring into the flames of their campfire that dull in comparison to her. He wishes he knew back then that when you play, when you fall in love with fire, you're bound to get burned. Her scorch marks are still all over him, ingrained in his mind, traced over his memories, the taste of ashes on his tongue and lips, even though he's never gotten to feel hers against them.

Finn shivers from the cold and knows it has nothing to do with the weather outside. He watches Rey for a few moments, as the softness fades from her eyes, watches as she drifts off into sleep, tired from the crash and her body from healing. A few hours later when she wakes up, she stays up to keep watch, and they take turns throughout the night. On their most recent switch, Finn keeps his gaze trained outside the cave, since it's nice to have their fire, with Wampa bones reapplied every hour or so, warming his back, and it's a more efficient way to be on the lookout anyway.

The snow and wind have finally stopped, the white carpet covering the planet smooth and untouched. The sky is so clear, so bright, stars shining brilliantly. Finn can pick out a few constellations, his brain connecting the pictures star maps both at the First Order and the Resistance had depicted, but nothing can compare with seeing them up close. One of the best things about joining the Resistance was getting to hear the stories behind the constellations, of animals and bravery and tragic lovers. The First Order had never bothered to say anything like that existed. Rey had told him the legends behind the Jakku constellations, and Poe had filled in with what he knew. Finn plays a sort of game to pass the hours, seeing what names and stories he remembers.

Finn sighs when he realizes he mostly remembers the constellations with love stories behind them, and everything is confusing and frustrating as it is, and he doesn't need any happily ever afters (or tragic deaths) clouding his judgement. Is what he's doing even smart? To try and reignite that fire, their friendship―relationship, or whatever it had been before she abruptly ended it? What could they have been if she hadn't? Is it worth trying to find that again? Is it worth putting himself at risk again? Or would it be smarter to just do what she's done, and give up on whatever they are and let go and move on?

But he had made a promise. It didn't matter the circumstances, it didn't―doesn't, matter that she's left of her own accord, for reasons that he is both sure and doubtful of, their sturdiness. He'll come back for her, he'll bring her back to him. Somehow, he'll find a way.

Rey's smile, her laugh... Clearly, whatever their situation is, she dislikes it just as much as he does. Finn wonders if it's better that he doesn't know why, if the explanation weighs heavily on her small yet strong shoulders. But, he reminds himself, that doesn't matter. If he can't take her burden away completely, the least he can do is share it.

It's with that resolve that he knows however long they're on Hoth, likely a week, but perhaps more, is not going to be a missed opportunity. He's not going to let Rey slip through his fingers again.

Not again.