when your world is feeling heavy (you can lay your armor on me)
by: antarcticas

i swear, i end up feeling empty,
like you've taken something out of me
and i have to search my body for scars

— richard siken —

No, he's alright. No, he's not alright — his father's face. His mother's face. His uncle's face. No, no. Han. Leia. Luke.

He is Kylo Ren and he is unstoppable and he . . . he isn't a good person and that's the point, isn't it? To get past good and evil, to create something new, to let the past die, let the damn past die . . .

He wakes up covered in sweat, breath coming out in short bursts. His com is ringing and he should really see what Hux needs during his sleep hours, but he doesn't reach for the shrieking device as quickly as he should, eyeing it instead. Hux doesn't really need the 'Supreme Leader's' validation for anything — this is just a formality. He'll do whatever he needs to do anyways. Kylo lies back in bed with a sigh, before realizing he should get up anyways and clean up the sweat covering every inch of his body.

He is about to leave the bed when he notices a slight weight on his chest and left leg. He sighs and lays down, again, before getting up again, thinking its a hallucination.

No. The mass of (light) weight groans. Not a hallucination. Is it — is it a person?

In his post-nightmare frame of mind, he sluggishly reaches for his saber, realizing he should probably attempt to figure out who has managed to climb into his room at this ungodly hour.

Then the person mumbles. "Ben."

He drops his saber. He never drops his saber. He drops his saber. That voice unmistakably belongs to Rey. The girl. I'll destroy her.

He hasn't seen her since she closed the door to the Millenium Falcon on him. That day he'd believed the bond to be broken. Perhaps old Snoke had managed one last projection before he vanished into the ether. This disproves that theory.

He turns to face her fully and can make out her nose and a few freckles in the light of the stars outside of his window. Yes, definitely her.

Oh, stars. Looking at her young face in the artificial ship light, he really does not want to kill her. She looks, for all it can be disproved, young and innocent. He knows that isn't true — the scar bisecting his face says otherwise — but his heart betrays his head for this singular moment in time. He might be the ruler of the galaxy but he's still weak for a strong, pretty face. The pretty face that is clutching his thigh like a lifeline.

He's debating what to do when she suddenly screams. The loud noise is followed by a murmur of something that sounds suspiciously like a plea for someone — he can't tell who. Then she kicks him, hard, and he shoots up, feeling a bruise forming on the inside of his thigh. She is definitely not innocent.

She kicks and punches the sheets for another minute, and he dodges a variety of creative moves before she suddenly stops. Kylo tries to lie back down, again, deciding he'll just avoid her until she disappears into the Force.

Unfortunately, before he can close his eyes to return to his fitful state of mind, a pair of bright brown ones fill up his line of sight. The girl has woken up and she seems shocked. Rey seems shocked.

He sucks in his breath, waiting for her to give him some sort of spiel about the light. One hand reaches down to grab his saber down below the bed. He's ready, most definitely, for some kind of showdown —

She smiles at him, her voice serene, before resting her head on his shoulder. "Ben," she says, and he tries to ignore the way the word comes out of her lips, tries to ignore how it makes him feel.

She snuggles closer and he realizes that she must think she's dreaming. That's the only explanation he can find for her actions.

Kylo's — Ben's — next thought is that he should wake her up, for real. He should tell her to go away. He should make her fight him so that they can get this over with. Please. He needs to get their next confrontation over with. The more time she stays in his presence, the stronger his urge to immerse himself in her Light. And he cannot risk that. The First Order, the galaxy — they don't need a leader who's being torn apart. I don't know if I have the strength to do it.

He scoffs at himself. Leave it to him to think about Han Solo right now.

"Ben?" a worried face, brown eyes bleary, is suddenly not pressed against his body, instead facing him. "Is — is everything alright?"

He takes a long minute to respond, gazing over the contours of her face. This does not need to end up like Han Solo.

"It's nothing," he says, pulling her up against him again, trying to fight how good, how right this feels. "Go back to sleep."

"Hmph," she groans, falling back onto his chest. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Rey. You can sleep now."

She smiles softly at him and closes her eyes. He can feel her fall back into her dreams and lets his lips curve a little, too.

He's about to drift off, too — as the Supreme Leader, sleep is a rare commodity that he tries to get when he can, despite the nightmares — when suddenly the Force drifting around him changes. The slight weight on his chest is lifted. He reaches out his hand, trying to touch her skin, feel her, but nothing's there.

There's an emptiness in his mind that he can't define. He thinks it's always been there, the part of him that's never had anything worth losing. Not a workaholic mother or smuggler father or preaching uncle. Not his frenemy Hux or conniving Master Snoke. He's always been alone.

Neither are you.

title taken from 'constellate' by fleurie.

i'll probably try to x-post on ff, but i'll probably be moving to ao3 soon. the community i'm currently in (star wars/reylo) is mostly active there and i feel like ff is dead. same username over there!

— dee