"Stars, I love you," Obi-Wan murmurs in return, settling into Klaus's arms, his limbs feeling utterly weak, as if all the strength had left him when he'd come. His skin is sensitive to the touch, yet he doesn't want Klaus to stop touching him. It's as if that's what his skin needs, what it's craving, just the continued press of Klaus's skin against his own.
The sky has long ago gone dark and while the stars are still bright against that velvet black, the meteor shower has ended, leaving behind the same sky he's looked at dozens of times since coming to Darrow. An unfamiliar sky, different constellations, different stars, but one that's becoming more familiar with each passing day.
Obi-Wan might not have thought it, but there might be a possibility of this becoming home.
Shifting on the bed, he curls himself against Klaus's side, touching his fingertips to the black ink on Klaus's stomach. "I've never asked what this means," he says as he traces the lines. He can't feel them, they're part of Klaus's skin now, deep enough that they're the same.
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The sky has long ago gone dark and while the stars are still bright against that velvet black, the meteor shower has ended, leaving behind the same sky he's looked at dozens of times since coming to Darrow. An unfamiliar sky, different constellations, different stars, but one that's becoming more familiar with each passing day.
Obi-Wan might not have thought it, but there might be a possibility of this becoming home.
Shifting on the bed, he curls himself against Klaus's side, touching his fingertips to the black ink on Klaus's stomach. "I've never asked what this means," he says as he traces the lines. He can't feel them, they're part of Klaus's skin now, deep enough that they're the same.