Kylo didn't show up to training the next day. I waited restlessly for an hour or two, filling time by pacing and practicing a few fighting moves on my own before making a slightly disgruntled departure to his room to see what was the holdup.
When I knocked, there was no answer, but for some reason I could tell he was inside. I slid the door open quietly, wondering what I would find this time.
The room was somehow darker than usual. I squinted my eyes to make out the form of Kylo sitting at the foot of his bed. His face was in his hands, his shoulders slumped and his black hair spilling out from between his fingers. He didn't look up at the sound of the door closing.
I made my way to his side, sitting wordlessly on the bed next to him. The silence seemed so fragile, so delicate, that I didn't dare break it right away. So I stayed quiet, merely sitting next to him.
"Is it happening again?" I said at last, my voice barely louder than a whisper.
He gave the smallest of nods, and my heart plummeted. I hated to see him this way.
I ran my fingers lightly over his back in attempt to comfort him, not sure of what to say.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He ran his fingers over his face, leaning back slightly so that he was less hunched over. A slight shake of his head told me that talking was not what was needed right now. He gazed up at me with red eyes, looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen him. I lightly brushed a piece of hair from out of his eyes, wishing that I could do something to ease his pain.
I crawled closer to him. He seemed so empty, so raw, and it was hurting me. So I did what I did best: talk. I sat with my shoulder lightly brushing his, just to keep him reassured of my presence.
I recounted a story of early training, when I had started to have doubts about what I was doing. I had seen other girls my age in training to be nurses, and I was envious. Their trade just seemed so much more civilized than mine. I had even gone as far as to slip away from target practice one day to follow a group of new medical trainees into a lecture. Looking back now, one of those trainees had probably been Mason, although I hadn't noticed him at the time. Either way, I had been caught, and had received a nasty scolding from the new captain of the trooper program, Captain Phasma. In addition, I received extra hours of hallway cleaning. I had accepted the punishments indignantly, and snuck away again the next week to listen in on another lecture, earning myself even more hours.
As I talked, Kylo visibly relaxed. His shoulders released, and he leaned back slightly, his eyes still trained on me. I slowly inched closer, sensing an opportunity. With shaking fingers, I reached up and grasped a piece of his hair from behind his ear, continuing my story as if nothing had changed. His black hair was just as soft as I had imagined it to be; I wove a small braid, holding it at the end with a small piece of string that had been hanging off the hem of my shirt.
It was as if he hadn't even noticed my touch; as I pulled away, he didn't move at all, just kept listening.
My story drew to a close, and the room fell back into silence. I gave Kylo a small smile, hoping my words had helped distract him from his pain, even if only for a little. He didn't return it, only gazing at me with that same sad look.
"What can I do to help?" I asked after a bit.
"Nothing." His voice was raw. "You've already done everything."
"Everything?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Thank you." He took my hand in his. "Truly."
I nodded slightly and stood to leave.
"Wait." His quiet request made me turn. "Stay with me. Please."
I gave him a soft smile. "Of course." I crawled back onto his bed and lay down next to him, our shoulders touching. We lay in the dark, neither of us moving except for the steady rise and fall of our chests. I wanted desperately to know what was going on inside his head, but I was hopelessly locked out of his thoughts.
I settled for taking his hand in mine, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb. After a moment I rolled onto my side, propping my head up with one of my hands while still holding his in my other. He was watching me, his eyes like black holes in the already dark room. We held each other's gaze for a long time, black blazing into blue. At last I let my eyes fall, and I scooted closer so that I was under his arm, my head resting against his chest. His hand curled around my shoulder, and he let out a long sigh.
I frowned into his chest, wondering if there would ever be an end to his pain.