Twelfth Night | Reylo AU

Seven

Kylo lay in his bed listening to the sound of fighting. His mother shouted and his father began laying into her, causing the screaming to start. She cried, he seethed, and Kylo pushed his face into the long toy snake his five year old body was wrapped around.

His father was stressed, his stress response was dis-regulated, he was spiralling. His mother's buffering ability was overrun, and now she was triggered too. There was nothing Kylo could do.

So much damage was done when his father argued. Every mean thing he thought but knew better than to say came flooding out. When he saw the hurt in Kylo's mother's eyes he never backed off, only dug deeper, like a hunter at the first sign of blood.

It felt as if the house would fall like the tower of cards it was. Though Kylo liked to pretend the walls were brick held together with mortar, they were just card that got dampened in the rain and wobbled in the wind. He had his parents to thank for that, but Kylo didn't harbour bitterness.

When Kylo came to his parents with a toddler's open heart they only saw an annoyance, another mouth to feed, a bottom to wipe. His crying was "manipulation" and his sadness was "put on for attention". Every day they looked at the kid in front them and killed him a little more. Killed him with "professional care".

In this life he would never be more than a ping pong ball, bounced from one to another for his love. He gave it for free but always the other wanted to put a cage around it, to put limits on its expression. His father demanded that he show his love for him by demeaning his mother, his mother demanded the very same.

That night, he decided to be brave and escape the safety of his own bedroom and try to cheer up his parents. He thought that, maybe, if he showered them with enough hugs and kisses, they could forget whatever it was they were arguing about and they could be happy again- just like they were earlier that day.

But when he reached the final step, he almost fainted at what he saw unfolding before his innocent eyes.

He wasn't prepared to see his mother curled up into a ball in the corner of the sitting room, radiating nothing but fear, Kylo's father standing over her as he spat poisonous insults at her quivering form.

"Han! Han! Stop, stop, turn around!" She pleaded, gesturing to young kylo.

In that frozen second between stand off and fighting he saw his father's eyes flick from the woman in front of him to Kylo. His face was unreadable, no fear, no invitational smirk.

Kylo began to cry. He didn't want to, didn't want his parents to see his weakness, didn't want them to draw more fear from his own desolation. He couldn't help it, though. In that moment, he felt alone and helpless.

Kylo had for so long been the only source of positivity in his household, of warmth and emotional comfort. He had for so long taken the brunt of cruel outbursts designed to bring his self esteem to zero, to shatter his sense of self worth. After that he was expected to rebuild all the relationships from all sides, to make any sacrifices necessary and then recreate the positive atmosphere.

But he couldn't take it, not this time. There was no coming back from this. From this moment, their family of three would never be the same, for Kylo would be counting down the days until he could escape to somewhere much further than the safety of his closet.

His father's remorseful face was the last thing he saw before his arms flailed in the fading light, gravity knocking the air out of his lungs and taking him down.

~

Kylo woke as if it was an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. His heart beat fast and there was a buzzing in his brain. He was drenched in sweat. Salty droplets flowed down his face and his shirt clung to his body as he tried to regain his breath. He took in his surroundings; he was no longer in his childhood home but, instead, he had woken up in his familiar bedroom, the same as every other morning.