Hurt So Good (Kylo Ren x Reader)

You Really Do

"Kylo," you whisper-yelled at him, "Kylo!" but he was ignoring you well.

As you entered the airport, the crowd died down but didn't disappear.

"Vicrul, go check us all in," Kylo demanded.

"On it."

The rest of his posse, including you, continued to walk quickly through the terminal. Bystanders watched him in awe as he passed, practically no one noticing you. You got that. He was statuesque.

"Kylo--" you tried to ask him about Diane.

"Not now," he said rudely, further sending you into annoyance. He was a terrible travel partner.

Finally, he and you were lead into the exclusive frequent flyers club where no normies would be bothering you. No one at all would be bothering you, the place was empty. Kylo sat at the chic bar and ordered club soda. You took the seat next to him.

"Do you want anything?" he didn't look at you, consistently looking forward.

"Uh, is it free?" you were unsure about being able to pay for anything from this flyers club. Everything looked like it costed a month's worth of rent.

"Seriously?" Kylo sneered. "What do you want?"

You really did need something to take the edge off. "Uh, pinot grigio?"

"And a pinot grigio. Your best," Kylo called to the bartender. The bartender was on the far side of the bar at this point, so you looked to Kylo.

"So, I know I'm your 'assistant' to the public, but like, what if Diane sees all these media photos?"

"Could we not for one fucking day talk about that cunt? I told you it's handled, so it's fucking handled," his voice had gotten significantly louder throughout the statement.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure. Fucking sure. I am done caring about your well being. You just have everything figured out, huh?" You threw your hands up in frustration.

"Yeah, I fucking do. I know shit," the bartender was returning with your drinks.

When he walked away you took a sip of your wine. It tasted expensive. You decided to just let everything go. You needed this drink, you needed to unwind.

"So, why are you drinking club soda like a pussy?" you prodded as you took another sip.

"I had an alcohol problem years ago," he cut his eyes at you as he took a drink.

Your face burned red. "Really?"

"No," he scoffed at you, "but that's why you don't ask people shit like that. It's fucking rude."

You frowned. "Asshole."

"Whatever," he sighed squeezing a lime into his soda.

"Drink something real," you blurted out, "I don't want to drink alone."

"I have work to do on the jet, no," he was staring at the lighting on the walls.

"Jet?" you cocked a brow.

"Yes."

"Like a tiny little jet?" you were starting to get worried. You knew that statistically private jets crashed more often than commercial airliners.

"I wouldn't say it's tiny. It's a ten person private jet with a bedroom and full bath," Kylo sipped his drink coolly.

You felt nauseous. You needed a Xanax. But your dry white wine would have to do. You essentially shot the rest of the glass.