Do You Believe In Aliens? [Kylo Ren x Reader]

31- From inside his head

The stuffy air surrounds him as he watches out of the window on the bridge. Kylo rubs his gloved hands together and his eyes dance around the stars, counting them, naming them, trying to remember constellations he once knew. Hux leans over a control panel, talking to an officer, but his eyes never leave Kylo, watching as the hulking form shifts from foot to foot, black cape draped over his shoulders, pooling on the metal floor. Kylo breathes, air struggling through the mask, exhales coming out in robotic, shaky tones. He's thinking about you, he has been for most of the time you've been gone. Hux said that your absence would be a welcome thing, a chance for Kylo to realise that you're not so special after all, but it wasn't. 

He crosses his arms, Hux was often wrong. He's only missed you more since you left, and the letters you send are merely fleeting moments where he can pretend to have you in his arms. He remembers them, all of them, every word, every smudge of ink and wrinkle in the paper. They're all read at his desk, with the lights dim and the door sealed shut, his mask and gloves removed, skin on paper, his real eyes scanning the words. He holds them gently, let his rough hands run over the lines as he reads them, let his muscles relax, let the world fade away and it just be the two of you. Sometimes, when it's deathly silent and there's no one in the hallways, he thinks he can see you, of course, it's not really you, but he wishes it was. He pictures you, sitting on your bed, writing away, do you really miss him as much as you say? Kylo sighs, and remembers the last letter you sent, it's currently on his desk, but he knows it isn't exactly how it had been when it arrived. No, now small droplets decorate the paper, and Kylo is ashamed, ashamed of what your words have done, reducing him to tears like that. 

The Finalizer shifts, lurching as the engines hum and purr in the relative silence. Only the sound of muttering and clicking fills the bridge, and the abyss of the stars outside looms, much like Kylo's shadow over the officers. They fear him, deep in their bones, quivering in the marrow and the muscle, the desire to please, to praise, to survive the red hot sabre and the fist of the commander. It bothered him once, when he was young, to see people flee and scream and beg for mercy, but now? Now he has learned to relish in it, to take it in his stride, to report these instances as successes, not failures. He doesn't need friends, colleagues, peers, he needs captors, underlings, slaves to the First Order. To him.

So why are you different? Why does he need you? Why does his heart ache when he thinks of you? Why are there worms squirming in his gut? Why does he like them being there? He wants to expose himself to you, to feel delicate hands peeling off his clothes, to feel them exploring him, running over flesh that burns when it's touched, deep desperate desire to be felt, to be seen and to be heard by somebody. He doesn't want you to run, he wants to hold you, and not just in his dreams. Kylo wants to live with you, in some solitary world far away where the days are long and plenty and the only sustenance he needs is you. 

He dreams of you often. In fact, he dreamt of you the first night you arrived. He had entered your cell, and he had woken you from your own slumber. In the dark, you looked helpless, dressed in clothes not from any planet he knew, dirty from the forest, injured and scared and utterly beautiful. He had always had an obsession with the unknown, it called to him, and so had you. He had kissed you, in his dream, and you had removed his gloves. Hot skin on pale cheeks, cupping your face, gazing at you until his lips pressed against yours. Nothing more, nothing sinful or wrong. But still, why had he awoken in a cold sweat, weight on his shoulders, heart sunken? He had prayed that night, to not be led astray, why had no one listened?