Firefly Ravine clap if you've got a ticket to the end of the world

She only confirms her decision — and who is he to tell her no? If he's totally honest with himself, he's relieved; he's spent so long surrounded by others, part of him has forgotten how to be truly alone. And maybe it's a bad idea to feed such a dependency — maybe he ought to tell her no and seek his own path, as he'd meant to before. But Alarian has never been good at knowing what is good for him, and Korei needs him — and there is no stronger drug than the feeling of being needed.
He releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Korei tucks her head under his chin, relaxing slightly into the touch. For all their past missteps, and for all the pain they've endured together, there is still something comforting about the girl's presence. He thinks maybe in another life, he wouldn't have broken up with her at all; he'd have been able to do what he should have done, what everyone probably expected of him. But this is the life they have — and right now, all he needs is the knowledge that she's here, with him. It's more than he could have hoped for.