"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
― J.K. Rowling
Kylo wasn't surprised to find Rey at the extraction site. He had sought her out unconsciously, admiring the shape of figure hidden in amongst the other attendees, dressed in a full-length gown that exposed the entirety of her back, demanding every ounce of his attention. Hux's hand landed on his shoulder in response, an obvious indicator of his distress. She wasn't supposed to be there. Kylo had grown used to her intrusions while Hux had not, allowing the weight of her presence to sink into his heart, a permanent reminder of what she had made him do. He continued to wear his guilt like a second skin, fully embracing the pandemonium his actions had incited in defiance of his feelings for her, ignoring her eyes, the shape of her mouth, and the expression on her face, hoping she wouldn't see beyond his mask of indifference. Her insight had jostled his sense of self more than once in their shared history. She had always been beautiful, embodying a radiance that reminded him of the sun and how it had felt before she had walked into his life, yet her appearance, while lovely, had been crafted entirely from memory. She was altogether too ethereal to be real, a fictitious delusion his mind continued to cultivate for no other reason than to torment him. Hux's fingers had become an annoyance, a preventative measure he had little patience for. The extraction would go as planned, with or without his shared assistance.
The expression on Rey's face darkened as he crossed the room, leaving Hux to his own devices, but not enough to deter his approach. He tried to memorize the look in her eyes as he touched her, trailing his fingers up and over the knobs of her spine, reacquainting himself with the parts of her he had forgotten. The scars she had acquired during their time together were still there, puckered ridges he used to know as intimately as the stories behind them, staining his memory like ink. He wished he could tell her how much he'd changed in her absence, how much he'd come to miss her voice, her body, and her mind, repenting the choices he'd made when she had been by his side. He had been young, stupid, and impulsive back then, barrelling headlong into his line of work in an attempt to salvage the remnants of a boy too bruised to show his face, a scattered relic time and tide had washed away. Rey had brought out the best in him, but her efforts had gone unnoticed on his part, crushed under the weight of his own blinding pride.
Kylo's fingers brushed past her ribcage, a place he'd often recollect in moments of quiet contemplation, reliving the sensation of her skin beneath his hands, against his lips, and across his chest, memories that had begun to fade away as slowly as an echo. He loved her, every single piece of her, but the reality of her presence was a torment he could no longer ignore. He tried to maintain his composure, listing off her features as though they were nothing more than items in a catalogue, things lacking depth and meaning, constructed under the assumption that he'd somehow buy into them. The physicality of her body was too real to dispel in its entirety. She seemed disjoined, wavering in his peripheral like an old film reel, frayed at the edges yet solid in its appearance, replaying snapshots of their life together on repeat. The colour of her hair, the column of her neck, and the shape of her nose belonged to a woman he no longer knew, a woman living inside of his head. Rey stood before him wearing the guise of a ghost, disheveled from rolling around on his mattress, sun-kissed from staying outside for too long, and dotted with purple bruises, souvenirs she had coerced from his mouth. She had sabotaged his assignment despite his best efforts, wrecking havoc the same way she had done so the last time.
"You're not real," he told her, dragging his fingers over the curve of her hip, up the fitted bodice of her dark gown, and across the curve of her cheek. "You're nothing but a memory, a dream. You don't exist."
She leaned into his hand and the world tilted sideways. The ballroom he was standing in became a whirlwind of colour and fabric, a surreal depiction of something from a Salvador Dali painting, too impossible to be anything but the machinations of a dream. Rey's dress swirled around her hips in slow motion, curling through his legs as though it were suspended in water, defying gravity. Hux's voice rang through the chaos like a bell. Kylo ignored his ardent plea in favour of Rey's lips, struggling to catch his breath as she kissed the center of his palm, stowing the heat of her mouth, the sensation of her tongue against his skin, and the expression on her face somewhere within reach, a memento he'd save for later. His desire for her burned within him as hot as a fire, triggering memories he hadn't realized he'd forgotten. Her hair floated in the space between them like a halo, reminding him of better days, back when they had made love like teenagers, wild, passionate, and entirely lawless as people, driving into one another until the sound of her climax had overtaken his own. The look in her eyes had been reverent afterwards, dark and filled with need, urging him closer, losing herself somewhere in the moments in between. Kylo wanted to tear his memory of her into pieces, destroying the mirage his mind had cultivated. There was only so much he could withstand, and he had finally reached his breaking point.
"We spend a good deal of our lives dreaming," she countered at last, ignoring Hux's hurried attempts at withdrawing his pistol from its holster. "How is this any different?"
Her smile was sad, mirroring the look on his face, but she leaned forward to kiss him all the same.
Kylo's dream ended in a loud bang.
A/N: Written for czechia (More Than Love: RFFA Valentine's Exchange 2018), who asked for an Inception AU. I couldn't resist! It's such a layered movie (Nolan's films are always so poignant and insightful), and I tried my best to capture the essence of it. I hope that it's to your liking!
*My stories are often inspired by the music I listen to while writing them. "By Night," by Sophie Hutchings, is probably one of my favourites. If you're fond of non-lyrical music, please give it a listen. I promise you won't be disappointed!