Not A Fan

Doom Bucket

When Kylo Ren had fallen asleep on your bed during the third movie, you had merely turned off your projector, covered the man, and then taken out your sleeping bad and slept on the floor. You had expected him to leave when he awoke. Not to rummage through your things. This was an incorrect assumption, you found in the morning, when you were awoken by him placing his foot on your stomach and pressing down until you stirred. You groaned, wrapped your arms around your belly, and sat up. Your eyes darted to the book that was in his hands. With electronics and technology ruling the normal course of your day, you were one of the few individuals who still adored writing in pencil or pen. Thus you had kept a journal to rid yourself of random thoughts.

Wincing, you lifted your eyes to the frowning man. He was not disguised as Matt, which made it difficult for you to figure out how to proceed. You knew damn well why he was frowning rather than having that neutral expression on his face. He had no doubt read the entry you had made when you had first started to work in your current position. Sure enough, he turned the book to you, his hand holding it open so that you could look at the page.

Today I started work as part of the Cry-lo Ren Clean-Up Crew. It's different from janitorial work in the sense that we specialize in not only discarding of, but also assessing the cost amount of damage done by the Lightsaber-wielding man who wears a bucket of doom on his head. I wonder what he looks like under there. Is he horribly scarred? Or maybe just nerdy looking? The doom bucket makes him look very intimidating, and I don't want to be left alone with him at all. Especially after cleaning up the mess today; apparently not only were five computers trashed and a portion of the wall split, but the messenger who had delivered the bad news to Cry-lo is in the infirmary. Something about being choked with the Force. I told Ivan that of course force was used to choke people, and then he explained the mysterious power to me. Lord Doom Bucket is even more scary now. Hopefully I only have to show up after the damage is done and Cry-lo has left the building, so to speak.

You scratched the back of your neck as you scanned over the words. You wanted to tell him that his reading your journal was an invasion of privacy, however this was a man who read people's thoughts on a daily basis. You doubted such a rebuke would have any sort of impact on him.

"Uhm... I wasn't the one who came up with the name..." you said timidly, unsure of what else to do. You winced as the man turned, chucking the journal against the wall. The papers rustled as it made its descent to the ground.

"Bucket of doom?" he hissed out. You flinched at his tone, at the minute amount of hurt that broke through despite what you knew to be his best efforts to keep it in. That had been you labeling his helmet, no one else. You lowered your gaze to the ground, keeping it near his feet. You waited for something to happen; air to be sucked out of your lungs, him to punch you in the face, anything.

"I'm... I'm sorry. It was mean, but... I mean... I guess this is one reason people shouldn't write everything down," you said without looking up at him. You rubbed your left arm with your right hand nervously.

You saw his feet turn the opposite way. He moved over to where he had left the remainder of his technician disguise. You lifted your eyes long enough to watch him put everything on. Kylo Ren then took leave of your quarters without another word. You felt a heaviness in your chest that had nothing to do with the Force and everything to do with guilt. His antics of the duration you had known him as Matt came to mind. He was awkward, obviously a little insecure with how much he pushed how awesome Kylo Ren—he—was. Even if you weren't a fan of the guy, you felt suddenly horrid that you had written those things. That he had read them.

It did not dawn on you just how badly it must have hurt him until you realized halfway through the day that he was avoiding you. Every time you entered an area where he was present, he would excuse himself if he was able to, or else would quickly busy himself with some task. You mentally swore several times whilst simultaneously attempting to think of a way to prove how sorry you were. You may not have been a Kylo Ren fan, but that did not mean you wished him ill. You simply disliked many of his antics. As a leader, he was fine; he got the job done, and effectively you might add. The way he treated others and his temper had left horrible impressions in your book. Not to mention the fact that you had to clean up his mess a lot.