Ultraviolent [Kylo Ren X Reader]

Chapter Thirty-One

He reminisced on your tinkling laugh, the way your skin smelt like sunshine, lavender and vanilla, how you would always gravitate towards him while you slept and how he had welcomed your touch, even wrapped deep in his subconscious.

His heart squeezed painfully against his ribs at those thoughts. It hurt almost as much as the thought of having had you and almost losing you.

Kylo could feel the tears already looming in his eyes, vigorously wiping them away before turning his back to the trauma bay and walking through the automatic doors, the bite of early autumn air nearly knocking the sob loose from his chest.

Vicrul was there, leaning against a brick pillar, cigarette between his lips, dragging from it deeply. He could feel the rage radiating off of his brother in arms, knew he would give anything to pummel his fist into Kylo's face, but thought better of it, considering it would knowingly land them both in a jail cell for the night, farther away from his injured sister in such a critical state.

Ushar had appeared, having moved the SUV out from under the pavilion to make way for other emergency vehicles should they arrive, eyes glued to the pavement. The air was thick with tension, what was left unsaid seemed to choke all of them.

Had Kylo not gotten involved with the sister of one of his best Knights, they could still be out on the town, guzzling liquor and bedding women. But he had, and the guilt of it all was strangling him.

Before any of them could speak, the young doctor strolled out, whipping his head toward Kylo.

"The woman, she's stable. Mild concussion from the looks of the scan. We didn't see any bone fragments in the head CT from the broken nose, so it's stable, as is, unless she wants to repair it at a later date. We booked an OR suite to repair the broken ankle. The surgical team is prepping her now. We'll update you as soon as we can. You're free to wait in the lobby until she's in recovery." the doctor said, placing a hand on Kylo's shoulder once he was finished.

Kylo mumbled a curt 'thank you' under his breath, pulling his cigarettes from his jacket pocket, hastily lighting it and inhaling the acrid smoke deeply.

"She didn't deserve this..." Vic muttered, stamping out the butt of his cigarette, flicking it into the nearest trash can.

Kylo didn't deign to look up at him, knowing he'd see the look of disgust and disappointment on his bonded brother's face. He couldn't handle the weight of Vicrul's disappointment in him, not right now. He'd crumble beneath the weight of it.

"I was supposed to protect her. WE were supposed to protect her. But instead, we roped her into this life and now...," Vicrul huffed a broken sigh before continuing, "I could have lost the only thing in this world left that I love...because of OUR carelessness."

Kylo still didn't speak, but finally looked to his brothers. Tears lined Vic's eyes, his chest heaving in air in an attempt to keep the sobs at bay. He watched as Vic wiped his eyes with furious fists, stalking up to Kylo with only anger burning in his gaze.

"I want you to leave. I want you to forget about her. You've gotten what you wanted. Now, leave...before anyone else is lost in the fallout." Vicrul said, shaking with anger. Though Kylo stood a few inches taller than Vic, he had never felt smaller in his entire life, scolded at like when he was just a boy.

He watched as Vic disappeared through the automatic doors, Ushar following a beat behind him.

Kylo was alone. Utterly alone.

He felt torn, conflicted in what he felt like was his obligation to stay and the order to leave.

Numbly, Kylo fished his phone from his pocket, calling for his car.

The ride to his home was silent, save for his and his driver's breathing.

His home was cold and dark, vacant from the light and warmth you brought when you were around. He trudged through the kitchen, angrily pouring a hefty shot of whiskey. Then another. Then another.

As he stared into the expensive crystal, his anger boiled over, thinking of how that sniveling cunt went after you.

In a flash, Kylo threw the glass through the kitchen, watching it shattering into millions of glittering shards in the lowlight.

He braced his hands on the island countertop, attempting to ease his thundering heart.

No amount of alcohol, sex, drugs, or money would mend the hole in his heart. In his soul. He thought you were gone. He thought he was too late when he'd arrived.

To have you limp and bloodied in his arms had awoken the feelings he'd kept locked away for so many months, even after he had stormed off in the hospital after the death of his mother.

Kylo had never blamed you for one moment. Not you. Never you.

As Kylo dragged his feet through the hall to his bedroom, tears began to form again. The thought of having almost lost, having almost been too late, rocked him to the core. He undressed, the whiskey pounding through his bloodstream as he littered the floor with his suit.

Flopping onto his bed, his head swam, but he could swear, your scent still lingered, clinging to the sheets as a painful reminder of the gravity of who he almost lost. Who he did lose, in a sense.

The tears poured freely now as Kylo curled into a ball, clutching the bedsheets in his hands, aching for your touch, your kindness and forgiveness, even if he didn't deserve it.

Aching for your love.

Your name came out in broken sobs as he cried.

"I...love...you..."