Han needs the sleep. When he finally does collapse, which he predicts will happen in a few hours or whenever Chewie decides to lock him in his bunk. Now, though, there's still the fading thrum of adrenaline and hunger pangs to keep him conscious. Or maybe that last part was guilt, some small thread of it like that terrible black crystal hair Luke kept pulling out of himself, creeping around his stomach.

"Hey," is all the warning Luke gets before Han unceremoniously sits on his feet, then stands to move them and sit back down again with them resting against his arm. "You're still awake, right? I've got food."

He hoped Luke was still awake. He'd feel even worse if he woke the poor kid up again after a day like this. Days. Maybe longer, it certainly felt like they'd been going back and forth from darkness to light for a month's worth of days, Han couldn't even tell anymore, but he hoped it warranted a long vacation for all of them.