"sun?" ― "yup." a mutual laugh went through the room before you quickly rubbed your flattened palm over his back to 'erase' the painting. it has become one of Luke's favorite past times. when he could fully relax and not think about anything... dark.

not that you knew of it, anyway. he would never share his darker thoughts with you, not when you were his single ray of light.

your fingers traced another path over the scarred skin ― another symbol of sorts, maybe even a letter or a number. Luke hums when you stop the motion, "a heart?"