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“Hey,” he says gently, carefully gripping your shoulders. “Breathe for me.”
You manage to bring your gaze to meet the black oblivion of his visor, imagining his deep brown eyes beneath overcome with concern. It was a small distraction to focus on in the moment as you try to oblige the request.
Slowly, you inhale a shaky breath, eyes returning to the strewn about dirt path beneath unsteady feet. The mere intake of oxygen feels like a challenge. Tears begin to blur your vision as you desperately attempt to find some semblance of stability.
Din takes a second to survey the alley before meticulously tucking away the tip of his sleeve, and slipping his glove away. His wrist and palm are now bare before you, something so simple yet intimate. Then, in a gesture so tender, he places your fingers to his exposed skin.
“Feel me. Focus on me,” he urges, voice laced with worry.
The rhythmic beat of his pulse sings out like a soothing lullaby. The feel of his heartbeat accompanied by the reassuring touch of his skin is just enough to begin to ground you, dragging you back into reality. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you hold onto him, your breathing now steadier.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking down again. “It was just too much…all of it. I couldn't take it anymore.”
“You don't have to apologize for that,” Din says firmly, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “Ever. It's okay, I understand…what that's like.”
Your gaze snaps back to his as the statement sinks in. The realization of his words feels like a healing balm. It all makes sense now, knowing that Din felt the same, and the relief it brings is overwhelming. A fresh wave of tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but for a new reason.
“Cyar’ika, are you alright?” he asks, gloved hand tentatively reaching for your face.
“Yes, sorry, yes,” you breathe, and it almost comes out as a laugh. “They’re not sad tears, they’re…happy I guess. Because of you, Din.”
After one last loving squeeze of his wrist you release it, only to envelope him in a hug. Once the surprise of the action fades, Din follows suit, wrapping his arms protectively around your shoulders. The cool beskar of his chestplate against your skin calms you further as you melt into one another. The anxiety from earlier seems to have all but faded from existence.
“I’ll always be here for you, cyar’ika, no matter what,” Din says, helmet nestled your against neck. “It's my honor to do so.”
“Don't make me cry again, Din Djarin,” I tease, but only clutch him tighter.
If there’s one thing Din is, it's a man of his word, and you believe those words to be every bit true. Especially now. Here with him after all the day’s events, you’ve never felt more safe or loved.