4. Half-Hearted is Their Hate

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Quick AN: I recently drew Darth Vader, the man who inspired Kylo. What do you all think?

Anyway, on with the story!

Chapter Four

Rey POV:

She dressed quickly that morning. She wanted to be ready--more than ready, she wanted to be completely prepared--for anything Kylo threw at her. In the small bathroom, tucked into the side of the bedroom, Rey splashed water on her face, waking herself up. She stood there for a moment, her face dripping with water, and took in everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Han Solo was dead, killed by his own son.

And she was tasked with bringing Kylo back to his mother, back toward the light. It seemed like the impossible mission.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. Startled, Rey jumped. Was that him? Was he ready for her already? Quickly, she wiped the water off her face and, running her fingers through her hair in an effort to at least look half presentable, opened the door.

And it was not Kylo.

In the doorway stood a well-used droid, clutching in its metal grasp a tray, full of her breakfast--water, rolls, and some sort of meat. Rey managed to thank the droid, before her grumbling stomach got the best of her. She ate quickly, and not five minutes since the droid had came, there was a second knock on the door.

"Just a minute," she yelled, knotting back her hair. The knock sounded once more--impatient and loud. "Stop pounding my door, Kylo Ren."

Rey yanked open the door angrily, and there stood Kylo, masked and cloaked and tall. Anger radiated off him too--she could sense it. Something had made him angry.

"Have you eaten?" He asked, hands clenched into tight balls. She nodded. "Then come with me."

Rey looked back to the table next to her bed, where she had placed her lightsaber that morning. "Hold on. I need to get my--"

"You won't need it. Come with me," he repeated gruffly.

Rey knew better than to argue.


The room he led her into was enormous, a huge cavity in the once planet, Starkiller Base. Stretching from the dark floor to the arching ceiling were tall metal columns, engraved with the symbol of the First Order. She followed slowly, quietly after Kylo, feeling the need to walk softly and make no noise in such a room, in which she felt she would be disturbing the strange peace by uttering even the smallest of noises.

The door they had walked through suddenly slammed shut behind her with a loud boom, and making Rey jump. She felt foolish, and perhaps Kylo could sense it.

As though needing to give her an explanation for the noise he told her the door was soundproof.

"Soundproof. Makes sense," she replied breathily. Rey blinked, trying her hardest not to make assumptions about why this room would need to be sound proof. How were they going to train? He's going to hurt me, Rey thought. He brought me to a soundproof room so no one can hear me scream.

"You're wrong, Rey."

And then Rey realized--he could hear her! He had been inside her head, listening to her thoughts. "Get out of my head!" She yelled.

Then there was a voice, a sort of faded ghost of a voice, but a voice nonetheless, whispering into her ears. As though he was right behind her, his breathing right inside her eardrums, Rey heard Kylo. You're inside of mine.

Rey glared, and in that moment, in order to deliver her fury with greater ferocity, she wished that she was not looking at a man in a helmet, but at a man, whose eyes she could pierce. And for that, for not giving her what she wanted, she hated him. I hate you.

As if taunting her, flaunting his helmet, Kylo walked toward her, gliding quietly, easily across the reflective floor, coming closer until he was just a foot away. He leaned, coming closer and closer and forcing her to step backwards. Wordlessly, he stopped. She stopped.

Kylo cocked his helmeted head. Leaned closer. As if that was possible. And then, he reached up, slowly grasping the sides of his helmet, pulling the metal object from his head in a series of hurried clicks.

The man underneath the helmet did not return her glare. He merely blinked, ran a gloved hand through his hair, and let her glare all she wanted. She felt it again, the second time since her interrogation, as their eyes met--a sort of unexplainable connection--and her glare faltered.

And then! Kylo Ren was leaning forward, farther and farther until he was breathing in her ear, on her neck, his breath tickling the skin there. Somehow she held still, and waited for him to speak.

"I hate you too," he whispered half heartedly.

And then the connection was broken as he stepped back. He looked at her. She looked at him.

"Here," he said, before dropping his helmet into her arms. The helmet tumbled to the floor, her fingers too slow to catch it before metal slammed into metal. He licked his lips, stepping back once more. "We have work to do."

And in a flurry of black fabric, Kylo Ren spun on his heel and was swept away.

AN: Well. I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. I really worked hard on putting in the same sexual tension that was in the interrogation scene from the movie. Hopefully, I did the characters justice.

As always, thank you for reading.

Feedback? Do any of you want more scenes like the last one?


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