eternal sunshine scene

“You’ll get bored with me.”

“What?” Rey turns around, faces her, and she’s still got that dumbass padawan haircut, getting a little too long and curly around her ears. It looks ridiculous. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“You’ll get bored with me,” Jessika repeats. “You’re a big time Jedi now,” she says, and she sounds a little jokey and she sounds a little sad.

“I’m not going to get bored with you.”

“’Course you will,” she says, and she doesn’t sound all that jokey or sad this time. She doesn’t sound like much of anything. “Everyone does. I’m kind of a boring person.”

“You’re not,” Rey says, looking mildly offended. “What are you even talking about?”

“Just that I’m bor—”

“But you’re not,” Rey says, interrupting her. “You’re not boring, Jess. You never have been. So what is this really about?”

And Jessika, Jessika sighs, tucks her hair behind her ears on each side, sighs out a puff of air. “I’m not good enough for you.”

“Don’t even say that.”

“Don’t have to say it,” she shrugs. “Everyone knows it. Everyone can see it. Rey, you— jeez, this is gonna sound corny. You’re like a light. You are. You’re literally like a ray of light. And I’m just… I’m not a damn thing. I’m a narcissistic alcoholic pilot. I’m old. I don’t really have anything going for me— except you. And you deserve better.”

“Look, I don’t care—”

“I do,” Jess says, and she’s crying just a little. “Just— just hear me out, okay? I know what’s going to happen because it always happens. I meet a girl and we hit it off and then she starts living her life and I stay stuck. That’s just my nature. And you, you’re gonna do so much. You’re going to be so much, Rey, you already are. And you’ll end up resenting me, and I’ll get weird and jealous—”

“You won’t.”

“’Course I will,” she sighs. “Because that’s also my nature. My point is, we…” She’s tried, she’s tried to be steadfast and strong but she’s breaking, bit by bit. “My point is, we need to get out now while we still can. Because what happens is, what’s going to happen is, we get in too far and we care about each other too much and then we can never leave, no matter how much we want to. No matter how miserable we are. Before we know it, you and I are gonna be the most miserable people in the galaxy and there won’t be a damn thing we can do to stop it.”

She’s full-on crying now, and for once in her life she doesn’t care, she doesn’t worry that it might make her look weak or frail. This is Rey. She’s only ever had to be herself in front of Rey.

Rey crosses the room to her and reaches up to cradle Jessika’s face, her thumb trailing down the side of it. One frustrated tear drips past Jessika’s chin. “Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay,” says Rey, meeting her gaze with those big serious eyes. “Let’s do it.”

“Rey, what—”

“I don’t care if we’re miserable,” Rey says. “I love you. I intend to keep on loving you. And if worst comes to worst, Jess, there’s no one else in the whole galaxy I’d rather be miserable with.”

When Rey leans in and kisses her the world melts away like it always does. There’s something different, though, something new. There’s something needy in this kiss, something urgent in the press of lips and teeth and tongue and hands tangling in her hair as if to hold her there.

“I’m gonna get old and bitter,” Jessika warns her in the spaces between breaths. “You’re gonna have to hear me complain about the ‘good old days’ when we both know full well that the good old days sucked.”

“Okay.”

“You’re gonna be off saving the galaxy and I’ll be back here teaching some dumbass recruits the difference between an X-Wing and an A-Wing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Jessika says, and kisses her firmly with one hand on the back of her neck like she’s signing a contract. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Rey says, and then she holds Jessika’s face in her hands like she’s examining it, like she’s memorizing every little line and crease and the shape of her eyes. “I am never going to get bored with you.”

Jess brings Rey’s hand to her mouth and kisses it gently. “Better not,” she warns, and tentatively she smiles.

I’d have thought I’d be nervous, up on the roof with Sherlock in the middle of the night. It’s different somehow, when we’re together. Doesn’t feel scary. We climbed out on the roof of 221 Baker Street with a rug to lie on and a bottle of wine, and Sherlock’s hand is in mine, and I’m not afraid he’ll fly away from me. We’re flat on our backs, looking up at the clear, glittering, purple sky and the wine is nearly gone. The city is almost quiet, in the way that cities are almost quiet sometimes, and it’s close enough to peace. We’re wise enough now to take our moments of idyll where we find them.

Sherlock presses my hand and half turns his head to speak into my ear, puffing warm wine breath on my cheek and down my neck, “Tell me which constellations you know.”

“Constellations?” I turn as well, kiss the tip of his nose.

Sherlock’s face crinkles with pleasure, “Yes, you’re my expert, John. Tell me which ones you know.”

“I er,” I look up at the sky, then back at him and giggle, “I don’t know any constellations.”

Sherlock nudges me with his elbow, “Make it up, then, John. I’m giving you the opportunity to be romantic. I thought you enjoyed that.”

I laugh, “All right then. Hmmm.” I squint up at the sky, looking for shapes. “Okay,” I say after a moment of gazing, “There’s the Hound.”

Sherlock giggles, “The Hound, John? Does it have glowing red eyes?”

“Shut up, Sherlock. Don’t giggle at my romance. Here, look.” I point, “See the floppy ears? There and there. And there’s the wagging tail, just there.”

Sherlock follows my pointing finger and smiles a wine-muzzy smile, “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I see it now. Beautiful.”

I grin and kiss his cheek, “Yeah?”

“Mmm, I knew you’d show me something worth seeing, John. You always do. My conductor of starlight. Yes,” Sherlock squeezes my hand again, “Yes, it’s quite beautiful.”