I was having sad thoughts of lonely kid miyuki, which made me return to my sawasprout au ideas. that au did basically start with miyuki wanting a good pitcher to play catch with and he is given seeds to grow one. one of too many other au’s i have.
Crying is not a concept foreign to FN-2187: his training has
streamlined his mind into two neat lines deemed as being Productive and Unproductive.
Logic and loyalty and righteous anger at those against the First Order are
considered to be Helpful and Necessary, while misery, and guilt, and empathy
are cut out with clean scalpels and the burning sharpness of a laser drill.
Crying, it turns out, is startlingly difficult to remove.
FN-2187 is still a cadet, though his station officer has
listed his attributes on his public file, and he’s held a Stormtrooper helmet
in his hands and stood at attention when Captain Phasma inspected his platoon.
And at night, in the bunks he shares with twenty other cadets with matching
haircuts and identical uniforms, he learns how to recognise the hitching sounds
of someone burying their face in a pillow, or what it feels like when the
person sleeping above him shakes with sobs.
He also learns how to close his eyes, and shut his mouth.
This crying, however, is loud.
It’s not so much crying
as it is screaming, the same words
over and over in some foreign tongue, and with it comes a heat that tickles and
scratches his skin beneath his clothes. When he rubs his fingers together, eyes
screwed shut, it feels like sharpened dirt, and tastes of dust.
It’s a girl, he thinks, resisting the urge to roll over, and
he doesn’t recognise the voice. It’s too young, too pitched, and it echoes in a
way that’s unfamiliar to the dorms; expanding outwards and outwards,
uninhibited by corridors and the cold vacuum of space.