Chapter Text
They’d been married for two years when Din finally noticed the scars.
Between both of them covered from neck down and even more most of the time and the moments of intimacy being fleeting, desperate where they didn’t have the time, energy or space to fully undress, he could almost justify why he hadn’t fully noticed. He’d seen bits of scaring along his collar bone as he kissed it. Felt bumps and slithers along his spine and the small of his back. But it wasn’t till this morning that he could fully see the extent of the scars.
They were horrific. It was like a red parasite had buried under his skin and spread out like a network of poisonous roots. In the amber morning light, they looked blood red. Fresh. He couldn’t even see the worst of it: his binder was covering it. He didn’t know what caused them. Whether they hurt or not.
Curious, Din brushed a finger at a scar end. Luke flinched and Din’s heart shattered. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times he’d touched Luke’s skin.
Every moment of intimacy distorted and corrupted instantly.
Every touch had caused Luke pain. And Din had done more than just touch him. He’d grabbed him. Gripped his arms. Kissed him like they were dying because they had been. They’re were a few scars he’d personally left. Bites along his collar bone. Bruises on his arm from griping too tight. Luke had left a few on him too, but seeing the other scars felt like he’d just caused more pain to the man with a heart that could hold the galaxy and the power to do it.
Memories that used to be sweet became nightmares.
“Can we—“ Luke had breathed into his ear, “can we try something else?”
Din nodded into his shoulder. They were cramped together in a corner of the ship whose name he couldn’t remember. There wasn’t much room to switch positions or even fully disrobe themselves. But Din held Luke by the waist as he wiggled from being pressed flat against the ground to sitting more upright, his back against the wall of pipes that probably weren’t made with this purpose in mind.
“Does—does this—is this ok?” Luke asked. “With your armor—on top—feeling crushed…”
Truth be told, he couldn’t think in any position he was in with Luke Skywalker. They could be holding gloved hands and Din would forget how to speak. He was still amazed he managed a nod.
If that had been the only time Luke had asked for a more pleasant position, Din might have been able to brush it off. But now every little wince Luke had made felt like Din had stabbed him.
“Are you alright?”
A different encounter. One with more room, less clothes. At least, the armor and helmet were off this time. In a bed, even if it wasn’t one they could call their own. But it was no less dark. It was always dark in these moments.
“Hmhm.”
Luke soft hum was muddled by the pillow. Din couldn’t tell if Luke was smiling or not.
‘Are you hurt? Am I hurting you? Do you not want this as much as I do? Am I doing something wrong? Tell me, my love. I’d rearrange the stars if you asked. Let me make you feel loved. Show me how.’ Was what Din wanted to say.
“You’re wincing.” Was what he said, regretting his word choice even more now than what he did back then.
Luke gave a light laugh then gripped Din’s hand tighter.
“I’m alright.” Luke said. “I don’t bruise easily. Keep going, love.”
That was a lie and Din knew it. The man bruised like an over ripe meiloorun fruit. But he hadn’t stopped.
Now he felt sick.
Even their first encounter had been a tell if Din had just seen it back then instead of being so focused on the idea of being able to kiss Luke.
“Mind my chest.” Luke said. “It’s…it’s a sore subject. Everything else can be yours tonight.”
Luke had worn a blindfold that first time. And every time until they were officially married and Din finally felt comfortable showing his face.
He remembered that first time clearer than any other. It was very much the first time. With awkward kisses and neither one sure where to put their arms.
But the moment Din’s lips found the crook of Luke’s neck and Luke’s hands had found Din’s hair, they were home.
“Here.”
Luke’s breathy whispered tickled his ear before Luke’s kissed it. Then Luke exposed more of his neck, offering it to Din.
Then, he offered the rest.
Din remembered pulling apart for a moment, too enamored by Luke’s face to bother looking at the parts of Luke that were already pressed flush against him.
He looked at ease. Too at ease for someone who was blind and nearly bare. He trusted Din. And Din couldn’t comprehend why. If someone had told him to wear a blind fold and disrobe, he’d probably shoot them.
But that’s how Luke was: sprawled out beneath him. Trusting him completely.
Luke always put Din’s comfort first. And up until this moment, Din had thought he’d done the same.
And now Din felt as if he’s failed him. That Luke had put his trust in the wrong person.
Even memories of taking Luke’s hand now felt sinister. Even if Luke had always squeezed his back. Maybe Luke hadn’t wanted to be touched at all. Maybe his requests weren’t because that’s what he liked: it’s just what hurt the least.
“What have you been through.”
The words escaped his lips. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to know what happened at the same time he didn’t. If there was anything he could do. But asking now would be admitting he’d never noticed before.
Luke hadn’t mentioned it before. That probably meant he didn’t want to talk about it. There was so much he didn’t want to talk about. He didn’t even know Senator Organa was his sister until a few months ago and made him swear to never tell anyone. He didn’t ask why about that and Luke never brought it up. Luke didn’t talk about his past. Din didn’t talk about his.
If they talked, which was rare, it was about the moment. The future wasn’t assured. The past was too painful.
Whatever Din had faced, he was certain Luke had faced worse.
He’d been woken by Luke tossing around in midst of a nightmare numerous times and held them for the rest of the night without waking him or even talking about it in the morning other than asking how he slept. And he was certain Luke had done the same to him only much more effective since he had the magic thing. He had faint memories of nightmares abruptly stopping only to be replaced of dreams of warm hugs on brisk nights. But they’d never said a word the following morning.
At least, he thought it was because Luke didn’t want to talk about it. But now it seemed it was because Luke couldn’t trust Din to not hurt his body: how could he trust him with his mind?
“What’s wrong, love?”
What ever remained of Din’s shattered heart froze. Luke was awake. He’d probably woken up when Din so carelessly touched his scar, hurting him to wake up.
“Nothing.” Din said.
“You’re crying.”
Luke cupped his hand to Din’s cheek, wiping the tears away. He did this whenever Din wasn’t wearing his helmet and Din usually responded by kissing his palm. But he couldn’t do it today. His hands weren’t scarred but he couldn’t trust his lips to not be rough.
He wanted to put his armor on. Nine hells, he wanted to put the beskar on Luke to ensure that he would never get hurt again. That he would never hurt Luke again. He turned away. He couldn’t even bare to look at Luke right now. All his could see where those scars on his chest. He tried to get off the bed, but Luke pulled him down.
“Come back to sleep. It’s too early for tears.”
Luke tried to pull Din on top of him. Their chest pressed for less than a breath before Din scrambled off of him. Luke didn’t reach for him this time.
“Did—did I do something?” Luke asked.
“No.” Din said instantly.
Like always, the tightness in his throat suffocated his feelings before they could reach his mouth.
‘You did nothing wrong. You’re a star shining so bright you’re seen through the thickest smog of coruscant. I’m the one that failed you. I’ve hurt you and I didn’t even notice.’
He put his head in his hands. Just last night, Luke had gripped his hair as he did now, but where Luke had twirled with his lose curls, he wanted to pull it out. Luke slid next to him. He wanted to push him away but that would involve touching him.
“Let me help you.”
Even now when Din was complete mess, Luke was treating him with an unworldly level of grace. He wished Luke would huff and say ‘fine’ before leaving Din.
He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to even turn his head in Luke’s direction.
From how still Luke sat, it could have been minutes or hours thought he suspected the first as the amber light of morning still peaked through the blinds. He wanted to look Luke in the eye, but his eyes caught on the scars Luke must have followed his eyes because he pressed a hand to his chest: right where Din was staring. Only, Luke didn’t flinch when he touched them. Maybe only Din’s hands hurt them.
“They’re just scars.” Luke said, as if that meant nothing. “Your back looks worse.”
That was probably true. He’d run away so many times, it made sense that his back looked like cutting board. But Luke’s were on his front. He’d gotten them facing something, or someone, head on. Knowing Luke, probably standing between something sinister and something he loved.
“Does it hurt?” Din asked, eyes on Luke’s hand now.
Luke’s breath hitched which did little to calm Din’s frantic state. But his hand was still touching them. Maybe it wasn’t the scars that hurt. Maybe it was the memory of how he got them.
“Sometimes.”
Luke’s voice was hushed like he didn’t want Din to hear. But Din had heard. They did hurt. Luke confirmed it. Anytime Din touched Luke’s scars, he hurt him. And his scars were everywhere. Almost like he could read Din’s mind (because he probably could), Luke took Din’s hand and tried to press it against his chest. But Din snatched his hand back.
Luke sighed.
“Love,” Luke said, “you’re not going to hurt me.”
“But I have.” Din said.
He expected Luke to scoff. Or to snap and tell Din to get out and that he never wanted to see him again. That he couldn’t stand how Din continued to hurt him. He wanted Luke to scream at him. But Luke just rested his head on Din’s lap. Probably because the morning fog made Luke want someone, anyone, warm to press against to before he came to his senses. But the way Luke locked his eyes on his made him rethink this, even if only by a bit.
“A little.” Luke said. “But nothing I haven’t wanted.”
Luke tilted his head, showing a bite mark Din had left on his neck. If that was meant to make Din feel better, it didn’t. He wanted Luke off of him. But he couldn’t see how to force him without touching him. He didn’t have the magic Luke had to move things without touching them. The only thing he had was words. And those failed him more than weapons ever did.
“Get off.” Din said.
“Not until you look at me.”
He didn’t want to. If he looked Luke in his face, he’d never be able to look away. He tried focusing on his eyes but he’d forgotten how beautiful Luke’s eyes were. All the hope and sadness in his soul seeped out of them.
“You’ve never hurt me.” Luke said. “You have nothing to do with these scars.”
Luke took Din’s hand again. And this time, Din didn’t pull away. Luke pressed his palm to his chest. At first contact, Luke flinched a bit but quickly relaxed into the weight of their entwined hands.
“They sting when someone touches them.” Luke admitted. “But only for a moment. It gets overpowered by the feel of your body against mine.”
Luke kissed the tips of Din’s fingers: the only part of Din he could reach without straining himself.
“The pain doesn’t come from your hands.” Luke said. “It comes from the hands that gave me these.”
Luke’s voice had been light and comforting until he mentioned the hands that gave him those scars. He didn’t have to read minds or feel auras to know that Luke was reliving that memory. And that he was terrified.
“Who did this to you.” Din said.
It took Luke a minute and several baffled blinks before he answered.
“He’s dead.” Luke said, “he’s dead.”
He couldn’t tell who Luke was talking to. It sounded like he was trying to assure himself more than Din. He almost wanted the perpetrator to be alive. It would give Din something to hunt. A head to bring back home and lay at Luke’s feet. Something to do beside watch the man he loved soul dim at the mere mention of him.
“It’s…” Luke said, his voice distant: probably the same place his mind was. “It’s a long, sick story.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” Din said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“No.” Luke said, “you deserve to know. I’ve been hiding this long enough. It’s just—“
Luke gripped Don’s hand tighter but it felt as if Luke had squeezed his heart.
“You’ll never look at me the same way again.”