condemned ; kylo ren

twenty nine ; wrong

I'm jolted awake by Kylo's sudden movement. I  open my eyes to see him sitting up in bed, breathing heavily with sweat trickling down the side of his face.

"Kylo?" I ask curiously, wondering what's wrong.

The clock reads 1:30 a.m.

He glances back at me, but it only seems to make him feel worse as he frowns, turning away. I sit up as well, groggily situating myself beside him.

"Ky? Are you okay?" I whisper. I rub circles on his bare back until his breathing begins to die down.

I notice tear stains on his cheeks; he must've cried while he slept.

"Ky?" I ask again.

"I-it was only a nightmare, Mal." He brushes it off nonchalantly. It's my turn to frown.

"I've never known a simple nightmare to affect you like this." I observe, staring into his eye in concern.

He sighs.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" I say.

"I don't know." He admits.

"I'll help you." I offer, putting my hand over his. He watches my face, then proceeds to nod his head yes.

I fall back onto the pillows, making myself comfortable; then I reach forward, signaling him to come into my arms. He does so gratefully, switching roles as his head is resting on my shoulder.

I pull the blankets over us, reveled by warmth they bring, which adds to my love's warm body cuddled up to mine.

I run my fingers through his curls, occasionally kissing his head softly until I hear him snore peacefully.

Knowing that he's asleep, I allow my eyes to droop shut.

-

It feels as if only minutes have passed when I'm awoken in a panic.

I taste bile in my throat; I throw the blankets away from my waist and rush out of bed, regretfully making Kylo's head drop on the mattress in the absence of my shoulder.

I slam into the bathroom and make it to the toilet just in time to let it out.

I feel Kylo's fingers brush against the back of my neck as he grabs and holds my hair out of my face.

When I'm finished, I lean against the bowl, taking a few extra seconds to breath.

"You must be sick." Kylo comments, but there's a certain edge to his voice.

"Maybe one of the troopers gave me a stomach bug." I agree.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower... thank you." I dismiss him.

Instead of making his expected remark about how he'd rather stay, he slowly nods and turns out of the room.

He looks as if he'd seen a ghost.

What's his problem?

I stop in front of the mirror and almost laugh at my own sickly resemblance to an actual ghost. I've never seen my skin so papery white; almost transparent.