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The rain feels like ice when it falls against Finn’s cheek, lightsaber drawn for another strike. Kylo’s hair is soaked, matted to his forehead, the clash of red illuminating his features making him look gaunt and pale. They’re both exhausted, metal crunching beneath their feet and the sky a violent grey. It has to end. The constant push and pull, the crackle of saber against saber combating the fiercely devoted look in Kylo’s eyes and Finn is tired. They’re both tired and there’s only one way to end this. And Finn draws his lightsaber back and opens his mind, tugging loose the walls he had built to keep their bond tied down, hidden from everyone but himself. The walls had windows and doors, occasional slip ups brought on by exhaustion, by grief, by love, but he had spent years building the foundation. And for the first time Finn lets the walls crumble the full force of their bond crashes between and Kylo comes to a sudden halt, his lips parting and his knees trembling.
Their feelings mingle together, hanging in the air between them so thick and heavy it feels tangible. He watches Kylo take in his grief, his desperation. He let’s Kylo feel the way that loving him pushes down on his shoulders, a burden that he can’t be rid of that wraps around his chest and squeezes until he thinks of the teasing quirk of Poe’s lips, or the gentle touch of Rey’s palm against his own and he can breathe again. Alternatively he feels nothing but adoration and surrender from Kylo. His arms fall at his side and he stares back at Finn like he’s the only thing in the galaxy and when Finn raises his arms and pushes his light-saber through his chest Kylo’s eyes don’t leave his even for a second, even when Finn feels the sharp sting of pain that bursts from their bond.
When he starts to sink to his knees Finn steps forward and catches him around the middle, carefully lowering him down onto the ground and propping him up against a scrap of metal. He gets onto his knees and scoots closer to him, his knees touching Kylo’s thighs and he brings his hand up to press his palm against the wound, feeling the way that Kylo shudders and sucks in a sharp agonized breath. They used to sit like this together, Finn alone in the back of the falcon and Kylo in his quarters. They shared soft whispers of dreams they had that would never come to frutition.
“Where would we go if things were different?” He used to ask. Always interested in the places that Finn wanted to see.
Finn’s distinctly aware that he’s crying, the rain washing the tears away as quickly as they come. It’s partially from relief, there’s grief settled under his skin and dread at the coming conversation he’ll have to have with Leia. But mostly there’s relief.
Kylo’s hand comes up, shaking until it lands on Finn’s cheek, his thumb coming up to rest against his lips and Finn presses a kiss against it. “Please-” Kylo whispers, hoarse and broken and Finn leans forward and presses their lips together. It’s tender and sweet and he can feel the force tugging on Kylo, pulling him away and when he pulls back he lays him on his back, watching him fade away with his hands pressed to his chest until it falls, his hand hitting metal. He stays bent over, watching the water crash against the side of the wreckage until he hears the familiar hum of the falcon and he pulls himself up. Ready to go home.