"I could die for you. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, live for you."
― Ayn Rand
When Rey had finally gathered enough courage to look into Kylo's eyes, their cell had grown considerably brighter, deepening the scars she had etched into his skin, scars she knew almost as well as her own. His dark hair curled around his shoulders like a curtain, close enough to touch, half sunlight and half shadow in the space between their knees, hands, and lips, speaking volumes. She could feel his sadness spilling into her soul, staining its surface a deep, subterranean blue, swallowing her whole. His hands had become as useless as her own, restrained, bruised, and incapable of escape. She didn't want to admit to herself that their time together had come to an end. His eyes had always been honest, lacking the steel she'd seen in his mother's gaze, mirroring every thought that passed through his head. When he looked at her, losing himself in the trepidation that threatened to slip from her stare, she knew that they were truly and utterly defeated, lying in wait for a death sentence as inescapable as the sun.
Everything she had hoped for died in a matter of seconds.
Her breath left her lips in one continuous exhale, fluttering feebly in her chest like a pair of wings, fighting to break free. Resignation replaced everything else, soothing the flames she'd fed in an attempt to keep him far from her thoughts, far from her feelings, and far from her mind. She couldn't escape the weight of what she'd done, but it felt right. Kylo's eyes shone a little brighter in response, igniting a spark somewhere deep in her heart, twisting up and up and up until she couldn't breathe. He was hesitant to fill those spaces, hesitant to bridge the gap she'd made between them, and she didn't know why. His thoughts were ripples, echoes of something she wasn't able to fully grasp, skimming across her skin like fingers, barely there. She reached out, touching his hand, counting the scars she had made across his knuckles until she felt his fingers fold around her own, cementing her in place. His mouth opened slightly and his stare increased in intensity, staining her cheeks a deep, blotchy crimson.
"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, gripping her hands a little tighter. "I didn't ask you to throw your life away."
"I'm not afraid to die."
"There's no point in dying for something you don't believe in," he said angrily, refusing to look into her eyes.
The absence of his stare hurt more than his harsh words, a direct denial of the bond they shared and everything that had come with it. She knew that her actions had been far from wise, putting everything she had fought for at risk, but the thought of giving up, allowing Kylo to wander endlessly in his own darkness without ever having seen the sun, was far worse.
"I believe in you," she said, staring at their joined hands. "I believe there's something inside of you that's worth fighting for, even if you refuse to see it."
"Is that what you really think?"
His voice was accusatory, deeper than the sadness she'd seen in his eyes but not as sincere, slipping over her skin like rain, subduing the anger that burned beneath its surface. Even now, standing in the threshold of death's door, he continued to doubt the reality of everything she'd said, living in ignorance. His anger smouldered like a star, always there and always visible to the naked eye. She hated how it seemed to consume everything else, extinguishing emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel. She had grown tired of watching him ignore such a pivotal part of himself. She wished he'd find it in himself to let everything go, to acknowledge that they'd never be together like this beyond the confines of their cell, stuck in place like glue, captive behind bars of their own making. They had always been enemies, constantly fighting and constantly running away from each other, but it all seemed meaningless, mixing together to form one blinding realization, something she had finally chosen to acknowledge. There would be no end to their animosity. It would keep going, gaining momentum, bouncing from one place to the other, spanning planets and people until nothing but anger remained, staining their souls like blood, forever unclean. When she looked at him, it physically hurt. She didn't want to fight him anymore.
"I wouldn't be here if I thought otherwise," she muttered, lost somewhere between his eyes and mouth. He wasn't amused.
"Hux will have your head regardless of how you feel towards me."
"Then I'll die knowing that I've done something right," she said, sounding angrier than she felt.
He saw right through it.
His eyes softened and her name slipped past his lips like a hymn, a perversion of song he didn't know the words to. His fingers found the knots in her hair, pulling her close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, close enough to feel his knees bump against her own, and close enough to understand every single thought that swept through his mind, mirroring her own. He was afraid of giving in to her light, afraid that by doing so, he'd find himself beyond redemption, standing in the remnants of everything he'd destroyed and everything he'd loved, completely abandoned. She didn't know how to subdue that fear, how to wrap her hands around his heart out of love instead of hate, providing protection in a way she didn't believe herself capable of doing, protection from something she felt on a daily basis. He surrendered to her in an act of faith, hoping she'd find the pieces he'd scattered of himself so long ago, pieces he didn't know how to put back together again. His feelings for her were thick with longing, thick with a sense of respect so potent that she nearly cried, sore from his sincerity. She hadn't been this close to him since Ahch-To.
"Ben," she whispered, reaching for his face. "You're not alone."
"I know," he said, meeting her stare.
The look in his eyes told her everything he wouldn't say out loud.
She leaned forward, reaching for his warmth as though she'd been cold all her life, cradling his face between her hands. His lips brushed against her own until the sound of her breath filled his head like a song, prying him apart. He kissed her raw, gripping her knees until her skin had turned red beneath his hands, folding into every curve as though he belonged there, wrapped up in her heat. They were fighting for air instead of space, fighting to prove that despite everything, there would always be balance at the end of the day, an easy-going in between that had nothing to do with lightsabers, nothing to do with the Force, and nothing to do with their choices in life. There was nothing but his mouth, his warmth, and his name on her tongue, filling her with a sense of calm she hadn't felt in a very long time. Together, they'd be grey. Together, they'd die.
His eyes hadn't lied.
A/N: Kylo Ren gets in shit for killing Snoke (Hux is at the forefront of it all, of course). Rey, unable to do nothing about it, decides to intervene. She did, after all, kill quite a lot of praetorian guards. This is the result. I'd like to thank morphinepudding for the idea! I'm complete and utter Reylo trash and I can't stop writing about it.
The title of this story is inspired by "Palemote," a song by Slow Meadow. It's very, very beautiful.