[Luke is always so used to straightening his back and moving on; it never mattered, his problems and his emotions never mattered, not in the face of a world about to meet its destruction. They had to be pushed aside to only show themselves at night, when he's alone and dreaming of every single life he took. Trying to talk about it never helped, and he was only scolded for bringing it up. Eventually, it was something he got used to, and he used the excuses and the distractions as a way to keep sane.
So here he is, crying on the shoulder of someone he loves and having his defenses utterly destroyed. How is he supposed to build himself up again, keep himself safe again? Even though he feels safe here and he'd rather just stay there forever -
After she kisses his forehead, Luke sniffs and pulls his head back a little - he can still feel the fabric against him, but he's not pressing anymore.]
Sorry. [Come on, Luke, do more than that:] I... got your shirt wet. [That's dumb, Luke.]
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So here he is, crying on the shoulder of someone he loves and having his defenses utterly destroyed. How is he supposed to build himself up again, keep himself safe again? Even though he feels safe here and he'd rather just stay there forever -
After she kisses his forehead, Luke sniffs and pulls his head back a little - he can still feel the fabric against him, but he's not pressing anymore.]
Sorry. [Come on, Luke, do more than that:] I... got your shirt wet. [That's dumb, Luke.]