Bright Stars - Chapter 2 ; NC-17 / R
Title: Bright Stars
Chapter: Chapter 2
Fandom: Star Wars ; Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker
Rating: NC-17 / R
Summary: He’s not going gently into the night with this, and she can’t blame him; it was - awful, what she did last night.
Cinnamon in my teeth from your kiss
It’s not as if Rey hasn’t expected Poe to already be sitting by the window, his usual spot at the cafe, a maple latte in a takeaway cup within his reach, as he pores through the dog-eared pages of the same book he can’t seem to finish reading; the soft morning sun hitting his face in just the right angle, framing his stubble jawline and making his black curls sing in hazelnut brown.
In fact, she is counting on him to be there that particular morning, unlike all the times she’s never looked forward to seeing him at the cafe window, his features framed by the pastel green panel - already looking up from the coffee he is drinking, the book he is reading; an anticipating smile upon his face to catch her attention, as she rushes down the pavement towards the entrance door, the incessant click-clacking of her high heels echoing off the brickstone townhouses that line the lush-shrouded street.
The first few times this happened, it’d annoyed her; nobody should be that happy this early in the morning. Every time he catches her eye, Rey merely sighs - tries hard not to frown, or even roll her eyes - as she hastens into the quaint little coffee shop for her morning coffee; feet tap-tapping impatiently on the wooden flooring, the skin on the back of her neck prickling as she feels his unwavering gaze on her.
Every time, she’d snatch her black coffee from the barista after paying, and practically fly out the door; partly so she doesn’t miss the F train to work, but mostly to get away from him.
To some extent, it is borderline creepy to Rey. But, he’s never caused a fuss with her - ever, never even tries to speak to her, and just goes back to finishing his book - or at least tries to, every time she leaves.
Maybe he is a morning person, she surmises, maybe he just smiles at everyone that passes by the window; she has caught him smiling at other people that come through the door.
After that, Rey has taken to checking her phone whenever she approaches the cafe, feigned being so busy with her emails that she’s too distracted to notice her surroundings, including him; when half of the time, countless refreshes on her mailbox yield zero new emails from work since she last checked before leaving her apartment.
There has even been times, when Rey has woken up on the wrong side of bed - and there has been quite a few mornings of that too; and she would whiz past their usual coffee shop, get on an earlier F train to the other side of Brooklyn to another coffee shop there for her cuppa, just so she doesn’t have to be under Poe’s attentive scrutiny.
Unfortunately, the coffee isn’t as good as the one in their home turf, and they don’t serve cinnamon crusts, but - there have been such mornings, only because she’s just really not in the mood.
Out of sight, out of mind; and it has worked for Rey - until that morning, as she dashes to the coffee shop, having woken up later than usual, and there’s a possibility that he might’ve already left.
Yet, despite expecting him to be there, counting on him to be there; her breath hitches in her throat when she does see him at the seat by the window - clad in scrubs she always sees him in that somehow matches the cafe, a hand grasping loosely at his takeaway coffee cup, and his eyes trained on his book with a tattered spine.
She gasps, and backtracks a few steps before he looks up. Leaning against the metal balustrade for purchase, she shuts her eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm her heartbeat that has quickened for some reason - preparing herself to face him all over again.
Nevermind that in the short trip from her apartment to the coffee shop, she’s been running through her head what she should say to him, when she does see him - snap of the fingers, just like that; her mind blanks.
When she retraces her steps again, inching towards the cafe, her heart makes a great leap into her throat; when she catches Poe staring back at her.
Yeah, he’s seen her - maybe even saw her doing the embarrassing dodge backwards, thinking she’s been quick enough to avoid eye contact.
Another unusual thing that Rey has woken up to today: she actually misses his smile; the claw-shaped crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and the parenthetical dimples that bracket his lips.
Poe holds his gaze, devoid of the usual bright smile whenever he sees her - the one she has never reciprocated; a deadpan look on his face instead, his right eyebrow slightly raised, as if to ridicule her of the lame elude earlier.
It makes her nervous instantly, her thumping heartbeat spreading brisk jitters across her chest. She starts picking on the loose threads at the sleeves of her old sweater as she forces herself to look at him - picture perfect in the pastel green window frame; has he always looked this - beautiful, basked in the soft, morning sun?
That’s a first too, she thinks, feeling her cheeks heating up under his glare; as she licks her lips, struggling to get the words out of her chest, words that she’s never bothered to say to him every morning.
Poe sighs, and breaks eye contact.
Rey watches as he collects his things - his book with venerable creases down the spine, his maple latte in the takeaway cup, and his sling bag across his broad shoulders; for the first time, the one turning away - walking away.
She fidgets awkwardly by the pavement, watching his back turned towards her at the counter, like she has hers the many times he’s watched her as she awaits her order. She closes her eyes momentarily, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides, as she debates internally if she should still go through with this.
Granted, what she did last night was out of her usual character; but she had a bad day and she was drunk and Unkar had -
They aren’t friends, they don’t know each other, never even exchanged a single word; maybe what happened last night didn’t affect Poe as much as -
Rey throws her head to the skies, and lets out an exasperated huff; of course her unruly behaviour last night affected him, probably more deeply than she is willing to admit.
She did, after all, embarrass him in front of an entire crowd.
Sure, she in turn embarrassed herself in front of the same crowd - in front of him; still, it’s no excuse for her to react so - terribly, at him.
Rey almost doesn’t recognise the girl staring back at her on the glass-panelled door; gosh, she looks like - shit. She hasn’t even checked herself in the mirror before rushing out of the apartment, in hopes to catch Poe before he leaves for work - or for home; she never knew which hospital he works at, and how his roster pans out, because she’s never taken the time to get to know him and find out.
She cards her fingers through her hair a few times, trying to make herself look more - presentable; a bit hard, to be honest, what with the heavy eyebags that hollow out her facial features.
As Rey sidles up cautiously next to Poe at the counter, waiting for the barista to ring him up; she prays Poe doesn’t notice, as she squeaks timidly: “H-Hey.”
Her heart slows down, as he glances over dubiously, giving her a quick once over; who is she kidding, of course he noticed.
“Well, aren’t you a fucking Rey of sunshine this morning?” Poe lets out, looking away and fixating at the blank spot next to the barista, who’s looking more anxious by the second, watching the awkward exchange between them unfold in slow motion in front of him.
Rey looks down shamefully, fingers fumbling at the loose threads of her sweater again. He’s not going gently into the night with this, and she can’t blame him; it was - awful, what she did last night.
“I drank - I drank too much yesterday,” She tries to reason through the lump growing in her throat.
“Yeah,” Poe scoffs under his breath. “No shit, Sherlock.”
For a split second, Rey finally regards the title of the book cradled in Poe’s arm - Endymion, her lips trembling slightly as she fights off the sudden tears swelling behind her closed eyes; another first: she doesn’t expect this to hurt.
They aren’t friends, they don’t know each other, never even exchanged a single word - until now.
It’s not supposed to hurt.
Rey lets out a sullen huff, and tries again: “I-I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have done what I did last night. You didn’t deserve it. I was - I was having a bad day at the office, and then Unkar double booked us, and you somehow managed to convince him to -”
“I didn’t convince him to do anything,” her head snaps up at his interference; his honey-coloured eyes meet hers - soft, gentle; but, so - broken.
Poe shakes his head slightly, and sighs: “I actually wanted you to go up, actually tried to convince him to let you go up.”
“But, Unkar wouldn’t have it,” he lifts his shoulders. “And - I don’t know; maybe he was right - Maybe he did know you’d…”
Rey watches him lower his head, his thumbs rubbing at the edge of the page where it’s folded down; his words wither to a muttering snub: “Nevermind.”
She doesn’t understand why he did what he did last night; she’s always been so - cold towards him.
“I-I’m sorry,” she repeats, not knowing what else to say.
She dips her head to hide her blushing cheeks, her compressed heart wringing out fresh tears in her eyes.
“It was - itwasjustabadday…” she mumbles hastily, fingers picking at the hem of her sweater sleeve; pulling at the thread like she’s yanking at her lowly existence until she might somehow dissipate into nothingness next to him.
In her defence, it was a - dreadfully bad day yesterday.
She’s spent the night before wrapping up an article last minute, and has slept through her alarm because of that. She has rushed to the coffee shop to get her usual pick-me-up, only to run into Poe at the door - crashed into him; spilled his coffee all over him, all over both of them.
That’s how she knew he takes maple latte; the smell of dairy all over her blouse turned her stomach, and worse - triggered her, because now she has to go back to change, and miss the F train without her coffee.
She’s gotten into work an hour late, and has spent the whole day stewing in hate at Poe - even though she was the one who ran into him.
Later that night at Unkar’s, when she found out Poe had come out victorious in the double-booked mishap, which was also not his fault; the pot that was broiling with pent up distaste the entire day spewed over - not only for last night, but for the many regular nights they’ve performed at the same venue.
She was furious.
For as long as Rey remembers, they have been the most consistent regulars performing at Unkar’s bar in Harlem. Ever since she decided to heed her best friend Finn’s advice to make something of her talent, and managed to score a regular slot at the bar - Poe has always been there with her; either performing on alternate nights from her, or before or after her slot on occasional nights.
For the life of her, she can’t remember when this - feud between them started. Whether it’s because they are the only two budding singers/songwriters in Harlem seemingly competing against each other for clout, or that she has to see his face the next morning since god-knows-when at the same cafe they patronise, smiling at her and being too chirpy in the morning… the dispute has just always been there as long as he has in her life; and it has always been unnecessary, to say the least.
But, last night, driven so far off the edge of reason, it seemed necessary - crucial, even; especially after she’d downed a couple more drinks than her usual tolerance, and was pissed drunk by the time Poe took the stage.
Throughout his set - well, Rey did the most mature and sensible thing any grown up who’s been told to take a backseat and watch her adversary thrive because the organiser made a human error.
She booed him - loud and distinct from the back of the bar; much to her best friend Finn’s chagrin, who happened to be there with her that night.
Poe had scarcely finished his first song, wading against the perpetual currents of her jeering, when he paused intentionally to take an audible breath; and announced to the crowd: “Hey, how about we switch things up a bit tonight, huh - what say we get Rey Skywalker up here to perform the rest of the set?”
The applause was lacklustre, if not equivocal; but Rey took it as a win, practically beaming, as she sauntered to the stage, and watched with haughty satisfaction as he went back to his seat.
In her head, she promised the crowd that it would be a better set than Poe’s; heck, it would be the best set the whole of Harlem or New York City has ever seen!
However, the moment the spotlight hit her, she froze. The microphone wheezed its disapproving feedback, and the alcohol rushed to her head - and she threw up instead.
Rey shudders at the recollection that morning; a - disturbingly bad day.
“Very - very bad…” she murmurs.
Without looking at her, Poe massages his brows wrinkled with the weight of the world upon them; and lets out a discernible sigh: “When are you not having a bad day, Rey?”
It gives Rey pause, blinking; oh, he’s noticed that too.
Now that she’s made to think about it, he’s right; she can’t remember the last time she hasn’t had a bad day.
Sure, she can argue that she’s not a morning person, and can’t deal with anyone with a sunny disposition before she’s had her coffee. But, it’s not as if she’s better at dealing with people - with or without a bright temperament, ever on the verge of biting everyone’s head off, at any other point of the day or night.
Rey grips the marble counter for support, knees buckling and her vision compromised by contrails peppered with colourful spots, as she’s doused with a cold, hard serving of - the truth.
What the fuck is wrong with her?
The barista hands Poe a brown paper bag over the counter, which he accepts with a weary smile. Her time is up; he is still mad at her, and he is not going to accept her apology and forgive her.
Rey’s shoulders sag with relent - despondence, as she turns towards the barista and orders her usual: black coffee and a cinnamon crust - a special treat she’d get for herself on really bad days.
The barista’s widened eyes shift from her to Poe, and back to her again; panic-stricken, he stutters: “I-I’m sorry, Rey - we’re all out.”
Of course they are; which is just as well - a terrible person like Rey doesn’t deserve nice things anyway.
“Just black coffee then - to go,” she forces a sparing smile at the young man, and starts delving for any crumpled bills in the back pockets of her sweatpants.
Her heart - drops, when Poe suddenly closes the narrow distance between them, practically pressing himself into her side - tenderly; flooding her with a whiff of his musky aftershave, laced with a sharp hint of antiseptic that permeates hospital beds and waiting rooms with a hope for life, and despair for loss.
He shoves the paper bag to her, and Rey stares at it, puzzled, when she catches the sticky sweet scent wafting around them, blanketing them.
“You always order it with your coffee before you rush off to work,” his hoarse voice a mere whisper, an octave lower; as if letting her in on a secret. “You haven’t come in at your usual time, and they were running out. I just - I was gonna leave it at the counter, in case you come in after I…”
It takes all of her to tilt her head up, and meet his gaze head on, confusing herself even more when she thinks she sees a - sad glimmer in his beautiful brown eyes.
She doesn’t understand why he’s doing this; she’s been nothing but - unkind to him.
Rey watches his eyes contemplate every feature upon her face - lovingly; her unkempt hair, the heavy eyebags that hollow out her cheekbones, her wet red-rimmed eyes - her soft, blossom pink lips.
His eyes linger there, and he wets his lips; the tiniest touch of a smile trying to lift them both above the dense melancholy, as he says to her: “Try not to have a bad day today, alright, sunshine?”
Poe leaves, taking with him the smell of his aftershave, the sterile allusion - his grace; and Rey feels like the lowest scum on the face of the earth.