Cruel Destiny | Kylo Ren

Half Gloved

Only with him, am I worthy of escaping my hurricane of thoughts—the fears and the endless analysis of the actions and things I have done, or may have to do.

I'm still scared. I'm still angry; but as we sit beside the window, toe-to-toe, my mind never drifted off the view that we stare beyond. Against that brilliant black, the stars are still painted so bright that they drew my eyes bound, everything bigger and brighter, blurred in the most fantastic way.

The dotted, white-lights shining all the brighter for the blackness around almost makes my soul soar into the galaxy, needing to feel the solar's blazing warmth where there should be none.  Just gazing at the ink canvass, stole every thought from my mind, the usual carousel of worries simply forgotten. All my emotional trauma still lingers, as if it was my only shadow—but Kylo Ren was currently the light that shunned it away momentarily.

A deep sense of serenity overcame me as I glance in rapture at the man. Reflections of those perfect rays of light, danced delicately across his skin; his beautiful, scarred features. The darker the view, the brighter the stars, and they shined in brilliance for what seemed to be only, Kylo.

It had been a week since that night on the couch, and the feelings were only growing. I hadn't seen Five or Four since that day—and though I had been waiting in the Dining Hall everyday since then... Arion had never shown up. I still somewhat couldn't believe that she was a Resistance spy, but as the days continue to go on without her company, I realise this means it must be true.

"Try again," Kylo says, nodding his head to the leather glove that laid on the floor between us, almost symbolising a line that we shouldn't cross; one hand of his, bare.

I groan and throw my head back, "Do I have to?"

Kylo's face moved a little too slowly as he was taking in the surroundings rather than glancing back to me. Then, he grinned and as he did so, the temperature of the room became warmer.

"You wanted to learn didn't you?"

"Yes, but that was before I realised it was this hard," I roll my eyes, and give him a playful smile.

I still couldn't believe he and I were able to talk this comfortably to one another–Kylo and I were now in a cooperative and mutual universe, eager to explore this new avenue of opportunity and joy; yet the galaxy we live in, had never changed around us. Our mutuality is only despised: it is the most dangerous thing to the First Order, for our faith should only rely in their hands disguised as the fate of 'destiny.'

When Kylo gives me that smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness, that unexpected warmth rushes through me once more. Who needs the sun when I have that grin?

"Give it one more try, you almost had it."

I nod and inhale a deep, determined breath. Breaking eye contact and focusing now only on the leather, I think back to that day in the Training Centre where I had miraculously moved my boot from one end of the room and into my hands. This glove was closer, and I was more levelled to the ground this time; How hard could it be?

I reach my palm out to it, my fingertips stretching even further in the distance. Closing my eyes, I think of only the feel of leather in my hand again like I did with my boot. Coarse but soft and black. Leather in my hand—the leather that usually wraps his hands.

My head is pounding and my fingertips ache, but the glove never moves. Opening my eyes once more, I stare harshly at the leather, wide and worn as it looked unusually alone without Kylo's strong grip inside.

I take a sneaky peak at his bare hand that sat on his thick thigh. Strong and defined, with blue corded veins which popped out beneath the soft skin; though the fingertips that belonged to it were rough—he had a fighter's hand.