Title: No Light, No Light
Paring: Kylo Ren X Reader
Warnings: Kylo Ren is kinda a dick sometimes. You're a pure cinamonn roll
Spoilers: yes.
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Slowly the day breaks. Your knuckles are already raw and your breath shaky. No, you cannot be. You have to be tough. You're to be the pillar for the great Kylo Ren, his attendant that he daren't harm. It had started as just a job, but now, you're in deep. You're too deep, and you can't help but hate it. You're in love with a killer. A sith.
He's yet to wake, and you're in the training room Hux's officer Phasma frequents. An attendant of a Knight of Ren must have fighting skill, but now, you're beating and breaking and berating yourself for what your stupid heart has done without consulting the head.
It's so easy to say it to a crowd. You might just shout it to the stormtroopers, before you faced Kylo Ren with your immature, inappropriate feelings. He would turn on that sabre of his, the buzzing of the bright red blade would frighten you - and you would be no more. You might just shout it to the galaxies, to the outer-rim, to the Resistance, to the whole universe. If you had made such a mistake, let them all know.
"You're going to break your hands, _______." the familiar voice of Phasma's modulated voice in her shiny mask interrupted your rant. "Stop. Why are you doing this to yourself?"
With a final blow to the model, you turn to your colleague and superior. Your entire being aches, from your toes to your soul, and it may be okay just to hurt everywhere. Isn't that what Kylo Ren does in battle? Hurt himself to become more powerful.
"I'm stupid."
She takes her mask off. "You're not stupid. You're one of the most bravest people I know." Her plain face shows concern, shows something you haven't seen for a while. Care. "Tell me everything."
Daybreak empties its yolk over the world, over the Finalizer. It's distant, and cold, yet its bright enough to perpetrate the being of Kylo Ren. His eyes flutter, mind dredging its way through the layers of consciousness, mouth dry from his nightmares. Kylo Ren might instil fear into the galaxy, might kill and ruin lives and break dreams, but he is a man, and a man dreams of his failures.
"Father," he whispers.
Usually, by now, his attendant would have sensed his consciousness, and aid him to begin the day. ______ was force sensitive, but not enough to become a warrior like himself, or his uncle. No. She was a maid forced to be near him for all her days. What an existence.
Standing, Kylo Ren feels his joints pop into place, his vision blink away sleep from his face, muss his hair with a hand to rid any trace of his sleep. General Hux never slept, and when he did, it was never enough to turn the thin general into a more amicable man. With a dark chuckle, the Knight of Ren wondered if anything could make that redheaded moody man into a more amicable man.
"_______?" he called. By now she would have him dressed into his tunic, cleaned his sabre, broke his bread for him. But the assistant was nowhere to be seen. Wherever could she be?
Was she in danger?
For a moment, Kylo Ren felt a tug inside his chest; much like when he battled the scavenger in the snow. The Force. In it, he usually felt emotions and thoughts, tugging them and assessing, them, tossing aside what wasn't useful or exciting. But now, he feels an ache, deep in his hands and his chest, like he's being dragged across a frozen wasteland like Hoth, bare as birth, both inside and out.
Who is feeling this way?
Finally off to the showers, you strip off your layers of clothes, stinking with sweat and the unbearable feeling that you're being hunted. By now, your master would be wondering where you are, and why you are incompetent, and you know exactly what you would say.
"I'm completely and utterly, inconceivably, head over heels, toes over nose, in love with you," you tell the shower head as it rains a calm rush over your head. Kylo Ren might be darkness, and you mightn't be dark at all, but there was no place for a sun in the vast void.
Quickly, before the trooper monitoring the water used could complain, you complete the washing ritual, and dress in new clothes that you would be comfortable in if you weren't serving the man you were in love with in them. It might have been a good idea for you to create a cover story for yourself – Kylo Ren is not a relenting man, a forgiving man. He killed his father to remove the light from his soul, but even you felt that there was some left in him. Whatever was tethering this tortured young man in limbo?
You're hardly focusing, now with your aches dulling the pain of this love, your mind blearier than when you woke yourself in a sweat over the emotions. Kriff. You're not focusing at all, and you run into the chest of a dark-clad man.
"Sir! I apologise."
Kylo Ren's mask is as unforgiving as usual. "______. Follow me." He is not inviting you. He is instructing you. This you know well, and you do your best to keep up with his giant stride as he makes his way back into to the room the both of you knew started it all. His room. "Why were you absent this morning?" His voice modulator, much like Phasma, showed no signs of mercy, and deep inside, your wits left you. "You were absent when I needed your attendance. You are an attendant, are you not?"
"Yes, sir. I am an attendant, sir."
"Your absence was err. You are pained." He states, and lifts you arm. It aches, from all the physical exertion you applied it to, from all the skin crackled and broken over your unbound knuckles. "Is it this which pains you?"
You are silent.
"Have you lost your tongue, ______?"
"I am plagued with...feelings. Sir." You reply. "I was not in attendance to you to work out these problems so not to bother you with their triviality."
He drops your hand, the sudden movement paining your limb more than it should be. Before you have time to wince in pain, his mask is released from his shoulders, revealing his jagged scar. The mark mars his face, splitting it as if in two, symbolic of his struggle. The skin around it puckers, as uneven as your heartbeat.
"I'm sorry, sir," you add, quieter. The _______ you were before, punching in the training room is gone.
Kylo Ren's gaze softens.
"You want a revelation," he asks you, watching you carefully. Walking around your still form, he watches you like a predator to prey, a tutor to a student, "Some kind of resolution, to these feelings?"
She nods. "I do. I never knew daylight could be so violent. It rips me open, sir. I am plagued with them, I can't – I can't function as I do usually, for you with them. Heaven help me, I need to make it right."
He nods, but instead of agreeing, the great Kylo Ren sighs. "You can't choose what stays and what fades away. Even if it's feelings. Are they for an officer? The General?"
She shakes her head.
"Captain Phasma?" he adds.
She shakes her head.
"Who? Who has rendered you to a mess standing before me? Who pains you? Who makes you this?" his voice climbs in tone, and for a moment, he can see fear in her eyes at his raised voice.
"You," she whispers.
You take a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, sir." You add, quickly. "I'm to be executed, aren't I?" She breathes. But Kylo Ren is silent, unblinking. It's as if he's frozen in a frame of time, and life has gone on and left him behind. Your fear jumps, heart thumping. "Tell me what you want me to say!"
But he doesn't say a thing. He takes a step forward, and cradling your head in his great hands, your lips are on his.
You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between
What I thought and what I said
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you're the start
You're my head, you're my heart
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