Hurt Me Harder (Kylo Ren x Reader)

Exile

But maybe "something" wasn't enough. Maybe love wasn't enough. Maybe love was impossible. Maybe nothing about this was possible. Maybe you'd tried all the cards you'd been dealt. And maybe it was time to put them away.

But then, something happened. Just as you were deciding that it was better that you left and never came back, never bothered him again, never let him bother you again either, something happened, something big enough to change everything, maybe the first step that you needed from him.

He turned. Finally, Kylo turned to face you, pressing his back against the wall but hanging his head, exasperated and tired. Thick, long locks of impossibly dark hair hung over, too, shielding his face, but perhaps that was a good thing. You didn't know if you could stomach the expression he wore.

He shook his head.

With his back still pressed against the wall, Kylo brought up a tense arm, fisting his balled hand against the wall so forcefully you feared his bones would shatter. The sound of the weight of his strike reverberated across the room, filling it with a sound that made you wince. From deep within the expanse of his body, he released something between a grunt and a throaty howl. His voice ripped on the way out, and it made you think of rocks and tearing muscle. You held your breath, standing frozen in your tracks. Maybe he needed to punch the wall. Maybe he needed to scream. But what could you possibly do to help him?

He shook out his fist, likely feeling the pain from punching the wall yet again. He was breathing heavily, wet strands of hair strewn across his brow and his eyes.

"I didn't fucking ask for this," he shouted. "I didn't ask for this."

You still hadn't taken a single breath as he slid defeatedly down the wall, legs and spirit finally giving out. Small streams of water sprayed across his body, his face. He didn't seem to care, or even notice. You realized the muscles of your throat were completely constricted by your own tension and stress as you watched him, heart quivering but pulse soaring. You could have sworn it was ready to give out on you altogether. He sat with one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee, head still bowed low. Face still shielded. Rage still rolling off of him in waves but simmering lowly, now. His breathing began to even out. His voice was low and hoarse when he finally spoke again.

"I didn't ask to love you."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you exhaled, breath nearly choking you on its way out.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. In fact, you were sure that you'd misheard him altogether, but that was okay. He didn't need to say it again. He didn't need to clarify. He didn't need to divulge. Not right now. Not tonight. Maybe he never would.

Maybe he'd never be able to.

Maybe it didn't matter.

Silently, you took a step forward, letting the cool water of the shower bathe over you, too, slowly drenching your body. You sank to your knees at his side. He didn't lift his gaze. That was alright, too. You knew, as you drew himself to his level, so close to him, that you would defend him. You weren't sure what there was to defend. He'd exiled himself, years ago, from his own life, his own family. He'd been lost. You knew that. But you were his. Unwaveringly. Nothing, and no one, would ever harm him again.

And he wasn't fighting you anymore.

Slowly, you outstretched a palm, letting it land softly against his cheek. At a gentle, glacial pace, you drew his face back up, bringing his gaze towards yours.

You stared into his eyes, not saying anything. You didn't need to. As he stared back, eyes tired, and swimming with something that wasn't familiar on him, you knew that he understood.