Seduced ➢ Kylo Ren

twenty-eight; visitor

Training was horrible.

You feel the water flow freely against the skin of your arm, testing its temperature- it's lukewarm, exactly how you enjoy it. You close your eyes and step under the shower-head, feel the water rush down your body, feel it flatten your hair against your face. This is the only thing- besides Kylo's presence- that actually relaxed you. Showers. Letting the water erase whatever horrible or unpleasant thoughts had been roaming around your mind for the whole day.

Today, however, those unpleasant thoughts are persistent. They won't be washed away as easily. You think back to training.

Kylo was still in such obvious pain, his wounds were all too fresh, that you weren't- you couldn't- give it your all during training. How did he expect you to fight him properly? It was like he didn't understand the fact that you were training with a lethal weapon, and he was trusting you too much with it.

It was like he didn't understand the fact that you were not willing to hurt him.

It was like he wanted you to hurt him.

How could he be so sure that you weren't going to hurt him by mistake?

After all, all it had to take was one wrong move, one slip-up, one mistake, and his life would once again be close to its end.

You tried to remind him, in training, that he was still injured, that he had been so close to death- but he wouldn't listen. How hard-headed he could be. He kept insisting how training was much more important than his wounds.

You kept insisting that nothing was more important than his health.

He had lost his patience there, and did an odd thing- he balled his fingers into a fist and hit himself in his wound, repeatedly. Over and over, his knuckles made contact with the bleeding wound, while you screamed at him to stop. Seeing you screaming at him enraged him even further, and he kept on hitting himself in the ribs until the bandage became soaked in crimson, until blood droplets were staining the metallic floor he was standing on.

You had rushed over to him, tore his arm away from his torso, begging him to stop hurting himself. He had pushed you away. No emotion on his face.

You rub the small bar soap between your hands. They had been stained with his blood. You tighten your jaw as your mind wanders back to how completely blank his face had been as he pushed you away.

Like he had completely forgotten he slept next to you last night. That you were the reason that he had the first proper night's sleep in ages.

"The Dark side," he had said, his lips curled, "is fuelled by rage. Anger."

"I don't care!" you had shouted back.

He continued as if you hadn't even spoken. "It's fuelled by pain."

You rushed back to him and pressed your fingers on his wound to stop the bleeding. And again, he pushed you away.

"You're weak. I'm disappointed in you."

"And I," you shouted back, "am disappointed in you! You were making progress - you were balancing the Dark with the Light-"

As you think about what had happened next, you feel your knees start to go weak. You slide down against the cool tile of the shower wall, hugging your knees to your chest tightly as you sit down. You can't differentiate between your tears and the shower water.

Kylo had grabbed your face - not at all in a seductive manner, not at all like he wanted to kiss you - his fingers pressing hard into your cheeks, and roughly held you there while he uttered the words; "Shut up."