the worst (b3n) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-01-04 20:52:00 |
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He was keeping busy. It was the only thing he could do these days to keep himself sane. The right path had looked so easy from a distance but actually walking it was a different story. But he was trying. When he stumbled, he made sure to right himself again. There were always temptations, those sly voices trying to lure him into giving back in those old habits, but as long as he was able to distract himself... The nights were the hardest. It was impossible not to be lonely in his bed alone but he kept reminding himself that it wouldn't be this way forever. Eventually, he would prove to the others that he was worthy of their trust. Maybe even, dare he hope, loved. That some night, he'd be able to turn and feel someone's tender fingers through his hair. It just wasn't this one. And knowing that it might not be one any time soon had been driving more and more to the bar. Tonight, however, Ben felt a little tired of, well, being tired. Moping around like he was some heartbroken Jawa. He was even growing exhausted of the near-branded pout on his face that was always there whenever he caught his reflection. At least the mirrors at the bar weren't as damning as the ones back in his room. The dark lighting here did a good job of hiding the heavy circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept much since the first of the year but he figured he'd sleep enough when he was dead. Oh. Ha. But Ben wouldn't let himself fall into that familiar pit. He'd stolen a few of the cocktail napkins for a few sketches. He'd put together a few ideas for a droid and though he didn't have most of the parts (really, any of them), he was also writing a list of places he could go scavenging. It had been something he'd enjoyed when he'd been younger but had to give up once Jedi training began to take up much of his time. He'd grown a stack of them, scribbles and drawings filling up every spare inch of the delicate paper. But his mind wasn't so deeply buried in what he was doing to not sense his father. From his hunched over spot at the bartop, Ben could see Han Solo enter the bar in the skewed reflection of the mirrors against the wall. At first, his instinct was to leave everything and run. But he felt his mother's lightsaber go warm at his hip, like a soft nudge and he decided that it was time to stop running. The hotel wasn't big enough for them avoid each other forever. He turned, sat up a little straighter and waited for his father to see him. It wouldn't be hard. The bar was near empty and the lights were bad but they weren't that bad. Once he was certain he'd got Han's attention, saw that knowing look, he jerked his chin toward the empty barstool next to him and turned back around to go back to his drawings. |