Dinluke Book idk I hate naming things

28

  Din wakes up, his breathing slightly laboured as he sits up, immediately looking around. He sees Luke staring right at him.

  Luke.

"I told you to tell me when to–" Luke doesn't get to finish his sentence as Din crashes him into a hug, tackling Luke down to the ground with a small 'oof'. Din remembers him, he can feel him, the soft, flowery smell of his hair, his small stature that felt so comforting to hug and be around, his genuine laughter that never failed to make Din's stomach flutter every time.

  Luke laughs awkwardly, gently patting on Din's back soothingly. "There, there." He coos.

  Din groans. "Headache," He mumbles, burying his head in the nook of Luke's neck, letting out a content sigh. He doesn't want to think of anything else other than Luke.

"Cyar'ika," Din mutters. "Mesh'la, ui'ayl." Din mumbles every endearing term for Luke, nearly drunk of the pure affection he had for him.

"What's gotten into you?" Luke says, laughing as he tries to push Din off himself.

"Luke..." Din murmurs, his eyelids slowly getting heavy, as he suddenly feels exhaustion seep into his limbs, his mind. The world going dark with Luke in his arms.

  Din jerks awake in a soft and comfortable bed, seeing that it's already gotten dark outside. How old was he asleep? He sits up, stiffly stretching his neck, groaning at the pops and cracks from sleeping with his helmet on. Luke helped take of his armour off too, leaving him in his flight suit, which Din was incredibly grateful for.

  He hears a soft snore from beside him, and is surprised to see Grogu curled up beside him, fast asleep. He smiles warmly at the sight, tracing a thumb over the shell of his ear. He pulls the blanket up, covering him up his tiny body while he lifts his helmet up, just enough for him to be able to kiss him gently on the forehead.

  Din felt absolutely parched. He makes sure to tuck Grogu up nice and tight, and is extra careful not to make any noise as he sneaks out of his room to the kitchen.

Din pours himself a cup of water, making sure no one's around as he lifts his helmet up once again to take a large gulp. He sighs, satisfied, now feeling rehydrated. He also takes a nibble from a ration bar he finds in a cupboard. After a quick snack and drink, Din looks out the window, seeing the moons shining brightly.

  Din felt like taking a walk.

  He goes out barefoot, the blades of grass tickling under his feet. He looks around briefly, before he reaches for his helmet, pulling it off.

  He combs a hand through his messy, and frankly, sticky, grimy hair. He sighs contently when a cool, refreshing breeze hits his face. He takes multiple deep breaths, letting it run and circulate through his body.

  That dream, no, vision.

  Din couldn't get it out of his head. He remembers clearly in his head everything that happened. How the voice tried to make him forget Luke, make him kill Luke.

"Manda'lor the Redeemer,"

  The title brought chills to Din with just the thought of it.

  He shakes his head. Whether he's fit or not to become Manda'lor, he won't do it if he's not by Luke, not by Grogu, not by the younglings he's grown fond of.

  He plops down onto the grass, staring up at the moons. So many things have been happening lately, most out of his control.

  Maybe he really isn't fit for Luke.

  How can he protect him if he's the threat himself?

  He sighs, tugging on the blades of grass beneath him, absent-mindedly twirling them around his fingers. He hates the thought of leaving Luke. He hates the thought of him hurting Luke. He hates making him upset, making him cry. And he's done it multiple times already.