Healing Touch

by Vibeke E

"This is going to scar. I'm afraid my stitching skills have grown a bit rusty over the years." "That is very thoughtful of you, General, but that probably won't be my main aesthetical concern." There was a mute resignation in Ren's disfigured face, something that made Hux's heart cringe painfully and his mind curse it for it. He was feeling empathy. For Kylo Ren, of all people.

In all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.
― Carl Sagan

When General Hux received the report, he didn't even blink at the news of Lord Ren making it out of Stakiller Base's implosion alive but with an interesting set of severe wounds.

Though it was an undebatable incommodation, Hux had to admit he felt somewhat pleased to hear Ren's arrogance had received a much deserved blow from the little scavenger girl. The General's pleasure, however, was not meant to last, as a mere few minutes after the notification of Kylo Ren being safely entrusted to the care of the droids of the ground floor Emergency Medbay, there was a second notification announcing that there had been an episode and that, in fact, the Finalizer didn't have an Emergency Medbay any longer. That, along with the fresh loss of Starkiller, added an awful lot of red in Lord Ren's figurative ledger – and all in one single day, which was incredibly remarkable even for a walking threat like Ren himself.

For some reason, Hux had believed – all too naively, with hindsight – that confining Ren in a hospital bed and stuffing him with painkillers would keep his madness out of the General's sight for at least a week or two, but getting rid of Ren, even with the favour of critical conditions, was harder than predicted. Hux had now no choice but to go and inspect the situation himself.

Once he arrived on the spot, he could personally witness how little was left of their ER: among the smoking remains of what had once been very expensive medical equipment and a rapidly enlarging pool of bacta seeping through the cracks in its wrecked tank, all he could mark as salvageable was the row of cabinets in the back of the room. General Hux took in the devastation surrounding him with half of his brain trying to calculate how much it would cost to replace the whole ward and the other half simply refusing to elaborate the situation. How Ren, reportedly so critically compromised, had been able to bring this destruction after such a short treatment was a mystery.

"I assume Lord Ren wasn't as badly injured as I heard?" he inquired to the severed bust of a medical droid lying miserably at his feet.

The robot's circuits let out a splutter of blue sparkles as its drawled voice replied: "He w-aaas, Gen-eeer-al." More sparkles and a series of violent jerks shook the robot. "As soon as he reee-gained enooo-ugh streee-nght, Lord Ren reee-fused to cooo-ntinue the treat-meeents, sir."

Hux closed his eyes in a vain attempt to stay calm. He felt the veins in his temples pulse furiously and his sight was slowly starting to blur intermittently, meaning he should expect one of his migraines any moment now.

"What was his diagnosis?"

"Min-ooor facial wound. Seee-vere abdomin-aaal wound. Cooo-nsistent blood loss. Ooo-n going infeee-ction."

"How far did the treatment get?"

"Infeee-ction treated. Wounds paaa-rtially treated. Blood traaa-nsfusion unsucceee- eee- eee- eee– "

Unsuccessful. Obviously.

If he isn't dead yet, I'm going to kill him myself, Hux thought bitterly as he turned on his heels. He marched out of the room, clasping and unclasping his gloved hands in a desperate attempt to maintain his self-control, at least until he got to put them around Kylo Ren's disgraced neck.

He must be giving off an aura of danger, because nobody dared to cross his path as he stormed to Kylo Ren's quarters. He knocked on Ren's door, at first with reasonable moderation, then, when no answer came, more aggressively.

"Ren!" he yelled, his fist slamming against the metal. "Ren, I know you're in there! Open this damn door, you useless–"

The door slid aside with a muffled hiss. Behind it, Kylo Ren's massive figure stood motionlessly, breathing heavily through his precious helmet. Hux's eyes scanned him head to toe and took note of the rigid set of his shoulders and uncharacteristic composed demeanour. There was blood on the floor and blood on Ren's bare hands. His gloves lay on the desk, oozing red stains on the grey surface.

The pulse in Hux's temples intensified.

"What do you think you are doing, exactly?" he hissed, shouldering his way in without waiting for an invitation that clearly wouldn't come.

Ren turned slowly, as if that simple movement cost him a terrible effort. "I'm flattered you troubled yourself to personally check up on me."

The urge of punching him for his insufferable tongue-in-cheek was almost too strong for Hux to repress, but he forced himself to stay calm, and only half succeeded. If he was reading the idiot correctly, anyway, Ren was already close enough to passing out without Hux bothering to even touch him.

"Enough with this charade, Ren! I demand a valid justification for whatever happened down at the medbay, and you'd better be very convincing."

Ren's helmet tilted slightly to one side. Hux pictured an insolent pout beneath it. "I didn't ask for any treatment."

Hux clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Usually, his complaints about Ren's dramatic attitude would be followed either by sharp retorts or, in the best cases, by infuriating, contemptuous silences. It was extremely untypical of Kylo Ren to be this lenient, especially to Hux himself. It didn't take any spectacular power or Force-sensitivity to sense something was off, to say the least.

"Take off that silly thing," Hux ordered with an impatient nod. Whatever Ren wanted to hide so badly under there, Hux wasn't going to leave without seeing it.

He waited. Ren stared – or that's what Hux guessed he was doing, since there was no reply and the stupid helmet hadn't moved an inch. For a brief moment Hux saw Ren's balance sway, nearly imperceptibly, and was about to say something when Ren took a very careful step towards him.

Unwillingly, Hux swallowed. He was tall, but Ren was taller, and he seemed to enjoy reminding that to Hux by looking down on him whenever possible. Jaw clenched, Hux watched as Ren placed his hands at the sides of his helmet and cautiously removed it. Hux cursed himself for wincing at what he saw.

A deep cut ran from the top of Ren's right eyebrow down along his cheek, red and brutal against the white skin. The eye had been spared, but there was blood encrusted all around it, even if a lot of it had been clearly wiped away.

Ren was staring at Hux with a calm the General did not recognise. He had never seen Kylo Ren like this and, he had to concede, it was terrifying. Eyes too cloudy to be seen through scrutinized him beneath black lashes, a look so deep and piercing Hux felt the blood in his veins run colder, and then hotter. He swallowed again.

"The girl did this to you," he said then. Not really a question, but not really a statement, either. It was hard to believe a tiny little thing like that scavenger could harm the master of the Knights of Ren. Hux mentally congratulated to her for completing a task he was barely allowed to consider.

"Yes," Ren confirmed. There was an odd gleam in his eyes: they looked languid, almost febrile. Hux imagined that, should he try to feel his forehead, he would find it burning with fever.

This imbecile, he thought in frustration.

"Did you have to take out your humiliation on the medbay?" he asked then through his teeth.

Ren glared. "They wouldn't let me leave."

"They had orders," snarled Hux, the volume of his tone increasing, his voice vibrating with anger. "Orders to fix your damn train wreck of a person!"

"Your orders?" asked Ren, his nose an inch from Hux's.

The General's grip on his own temper faltered. "Yes, Ren, my orders!" he shouted, and the pressure inside his head almost drove him blind. "You keep acting like the spoiled little brat you are and jeopardise paramount plans with your stupid unpredictability! Someone has to counter the chaos you spread!"

Hux found himself hot and panting in Kylo Ren's impassive face, staring straight into his burning eyes, and suddenly wondered, with a light jolt of his heart, how could such peculiar, asymmetrical features look so inexplicably handsome.

Something washed over Hux. Something impalpable and indefinable, a feeling in between dizziness and inebriation. It was gone within seconds, yet it left a wake of lightheadedness that Hux gladly welcomed.

A corner of Ren's mouth twitched slightly, then his expression turned serious. "You have a headache."

Hux's eyes flared. "Why, yes, Ren, I do! And that is entirely due to your…" Hux gestured towards Ren's general direction and twisted his lips in a sour grimace. "… theatrics."

Ren looked at him with such intensity Hux felt a shiver run down his spine. "Sorry to hear that, General."

The gentleness of his voice roused a bout of irritation in Hux's chest. "Stop mocking me."

Ren frowned, breathing roughly. His face was growing whiter and white by the moment. "I'm not mocking you."

Despite himself – and he much regretted this sudden lack of self-control – Hux frowned in return. His mouth opened, a string of colourful epithets ready to snap out, but before he could utter a single sound Ren started panting weakly, his eyes strikingly dark against his paleness.

"Ren, what the – "

Falling forward, Ren collapsed into Hux's arms, crushing the air out of the General's lungs. Hux caught him by pure instinct and stumbled a couple of steps back, his muscles straining to sustain him. Even through the clothing, Hux could feel the raging heat of Ren's fever. It was so intense it was a miracle Ren had been able to keep himself standing until now.

"Stubborn fool," Hux muttered resentfully through Ren's hair, his knees struggling not to give in under the considerable weight. "You can't even do what is best for your miserable self."

Ren was heavy, Hux couldn't help but notice. Heavier than he had expected him to be. Under all those layers of black, Kylo Ren's body was strong and solid, his muscles much more vigorous than Hux's, who was having a hard time keeping Ren and himself up.

"You need to lie down," he groaned into Ren's ear, even though he was quite certain it was a waste of time and energy. Ren was barely conscious.

It took Hux some complicated maneuvering to drag Ren to the closest viable surface, which happened to be the all too small bunk across the room. He marveled Ren could fit in there, let alone sleep comfortably. Ren let out a pained groan as his back hit the hard mattress. His forehead was glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, his breath frantic and uneven.

"You need to go back to the medbay," Hux declared curtly. He wasn't going to put up with this folly much longer. "One you haven't demolished, that is."

Ren withheld another groan, his whole face contracted in agony. "I can handle myself," he argued, and maybe he would have sounded persuasive, hadn't his voice been shaking so much.

Straight above him, Hux arched an eyebrow as skeptically as he could. "Obviously."

"I appreciate your concern, General," Ren breathed, his chest rising and falling heavily at each quivering word. "But I assure you it is misplaced."

A rush of heat rose around Hux's ears. "I'm not –" he begun, but was cut off by a pained moan Ren uselessly tried to stifle down in his throat; a drop of sweat had rolled down his flushed face, just along the ugly slash gaping across it, its salt burning into the raw flesh.

Hux huffed impatiently. He refused to buy the stoic mask Ren was stupidly struggling to keep up, as if concealing the physical pain could somehow diminish the gravity of his wounds. Hux could see the blood soaking Ren's robe, making the black fabric glisten vividly, even in the low light. Why a man in his right mind would so stubbornly deny himself adequate medical care so blatantly needed was beyond Hux's comprehension, but, then again, Kylo Ren couldn't be defined as a man in his right mind, even in his best days. The General, however, felt his own hand, hanging so close to Ren's suffering face, curl into a tight fist.

He needed painkillers – lots of them – because the ache in his skull might knock him out any moment now.

Just as Hux formulated this thought, Ren brought a hand to his head, whimpering in discomfort. And something clicked in Hux's mind.

"You can feel it, can't you? My headache."

Ren pressed his lips together, his forehead beaded in sweat. "Yes."

"It affects you."

A long pause. Then finally: "Yes."

Hux inhaled sharply. Ren's idiocy was truly beyond comprehensibility. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Ren studied him through hooded eyes. "I can soothe it for you," he said, raising a hand towards Hux's. "Just let me –"

Hux jerked his own hand away, holding on to it with the other as if it had been electrocuted. "For goodness' sake, Ren!" he snapped, embarrassed by his own reaction. "You can't even stand on your feet. Can't you just rest and at least try to recover? You're of no use, in this state."

Ren's impossibly dark eyes stared blankly towards Hux, whose guts twisted unpleasantly as he suddenly realised how helpless Kylo Ren looked right now.

"I apologise for being such an inconvenience, General." Cold and apathetic, Ren's feeble voice seemed to be grazing his throat to come out. "You should have left me to die on Starkiller."

It didn't sound like a provocation. It didn't sound like victimism, either. If anything, it sounded like a matter-of-fact observation. And Hux would have loved to get rid once for all of his greatest pain in the neck and migraine trigger, but Lord Ren was an utter annoyance as much as he was a fundamental asset to the First Order, and losing him (and his tantrums with him) was not an option.

Hux towered over the bed, his icy façade an ironical contrast with Ren's uncustomary lack on mannerisms. Dealing with Ren like this was unsettling; Hux was used to verbal aggressions and physical intimidation from both sides, and now his interaction territories with Ren were being rearranged out of the blue, and the General did not like not to know what to expect. All he knew was that his typical harshness in Ren's regards didn't come so naturally as it should have, in this particular moment.

"I should have done a lot of things," Hux said flatly. "Unfortunately, my position does not entitle me to act on whims. I have responsibilities."

A shadow passed across Ren's face, disappearing into his eyes. He shouldn't look so damn young, not to someone just a few years older like the General himself.

"Why are you here, then?" asked Ren huskily, turning to Hux as if he was genuinely wondering that. "Why are you still here?"

Excellent question.

Hux did have responsibilities, an awful lot of them, but Ren didn't happen to be any of those, gladly enough. Ren was free to get his arse kicked and his flesh cut into by a little girl, hardly make it back, more dead than alive, and refuse to be healed, and that shouldn't affect Hux in any way, to any extent.

And yet…

"You need those wounds seen to, Ren. I will not tolerate any further nonsense from you."

Ren's jaw clenched. "I'm not leaving this room until I have fully recovered."

To someone else's ears, that may have sounded like a childish caprice or a frivolous vanity, but, for once, Hux understood Ren. He knew, and quite precisely, what Ren really meant: he didn't want to be seen like that. Hurt. Weak. Vulnerable.

"Fine," Hux sighed, and Ren's eyes flashed wide in surprise. "Don't look at me like that," snapped Hux, glancing away all too quickly. "I get your point."

Ren let out the ghost of a laugh. "I'm sure you do."

"Nonetheless," Hux cut him off with a warning in his tone. "I'm not going to wait for you to magically heal yourself with some stupid Force trick, especially given the gravity of your physical state."

There was a long pause, during which Hux psychologically prepared to face a strenuous resistance. He didn't expect Ren to be compliant.

And yet, maybe out of simple exhaustion, Ren complied.

"I understand."

Hux gaped, caught off guard. He had been ready for anything – anything – but that. For some reason, a meek, yielding whisper was harder to take than stern opposition.

"What did you just say?"

"Why so shocked, General?"

There was a sparkle in Ren's eyes. What it could mean, Hux could not fathom, but he had a feeling he was being deliberately teased.

"You're being reasonable," he said suspiciously. "You're never reasonable."

Ren's lips curled lightly, and Hux knew he was being teased. "Your concern must have kicked some sense into me."

This time, Hux didn't even bother to deny. It would have been pointless, anyway. All that mattered right now was that Ren was finally going to be cooperative.

"Very well. I'll have someone fetch what is required to stitch you up, or whatever it is you need."

Hux sent out orders via his datapad. Five minutes later, a droid delivered what had been requested.

"Is any assistance required, sir?" the droid inquired.

"No," Hux replied politely, then locked the door behind himself.

He had acquired some rudiments of medicine during his military training. He lacked the precision and finesse of a professional, but he had been able to save a few limbs and even a couple of lives, back in the day, and Ren's injuries were but a scratch, compared to what Hux had seen in his career.

He took a chair and dragged it next to Ren's bed. The box the droid had brought was filled with gauze and antiseptics and several bacta strips; at the bottom of it lay a couple of steel basins and a few other surgical tools, some of which Hux had never seen before.

"I'm going to have to cut your clothes off," he announced, producing a pair of deadly-looking scissors.

Ren contemplated them unperturbedly. A hoarse gasp broke through his sealed lips when Hux carefully started peeling blood-soaked fabric off him.

"Lie still," Hux cut him off, brows furrowed in concentration.

"You don't have to do this."

Hux snorted. "Since you won't, someone has to," he spat.

The scissors cut effortlessly through Ren's thick robes, baring a crude sight. Ren's broad chest was scattered with bruises and his right side was as critical as Hux had feared. Luckily, the bacta had done its job, as long as it had lasted, and even though the lesion was still open and slightly bleeding, at least it showed a beginning of healing.

Hus took his time to wash most of the blood away with warm water and antibacterial. Ren remained still and silent all along, just as commanded, only occasionally gritting his teeth whenever Hux's ministrations hit particularly sore spots.

Once he was done with the cleaning, Hux proceeded with the stitching. The curved needle shimmered in the ghastly light of Ren's room. He heard no complaints as he worked the silvery thread into Ren's flesh in swift motions he had believed forgotten.

"Allow me a question," he began at some point. "Were you going to let yourself bleed to death, just for the sake of your pride?"

Ren stiffened. His hand clutched over Hux's, squeezing it still. "You think I did that out of pride."

Hux tried to pry himself free, but Ren's grip was surprisingly firm. Ren was staring at him, daring him to stare back and see the answer written all over himself.

No, not pride. Hux was not blind. Ren's motivations were something closer to hatred. Hatred towards himself.

"That," said Hux quietly, and felt Ren's fingers tighten between his own. "Or plain foolishness."

When he finally met Ren's eyes, he found them softened, as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Slowly, Ren let go of Hux's hand and let him finish his work.

"This is going to scar," Hux murmured while securing the final stitch. "I'm afraid my stitching skills have grown a bit rusty over the years."

"That is very thoughtful of you, General, but that probably won't be my main aesthetical concern."

There was a mute resignation in Ren's disfigured face, something that made Hux's heart cringe painfully and his mind curse it for it.

He was feeling empathy. For Kylo Ren, of all people.

"Turn that sorry face of yours."

Ren obliged pliantly. So pliantly, in fact, that Hux regretted his unnecessary roughness.

Cleaning the gash on Ren's face was easier, but not quicker. Hux took his time, moving even more carefully, surprising himself with his own attentiveness. None of this would have happened if Ren hadn't been the reckless idiot he was.

"I suggest next time you find healthier coping mechanisms than self-harm for your failures."

Ren flinched at the word failure. His hands crumpled into tight fists at his sides. "I did not do this to myself."

"No," agreed Hux quietly. "But rejecting medical treatment in your conditions is pretty much equivalent to slitting your wrists."

In the silence that followed, Hux could hear Ren's haggard breath stop and saw his throat bob as he swallowed. His robe was open all the way down his chest, white skin, red marks and purple shades of nasty-looking bruises exposed. Never before General Hux had seen Lord Ren looking so fragile and so… human.

A strange tinge of compassion flickered somewhere inside him, spreading its tendrils way deeper than he would have thought possible. And right there, where his soul was darkest and coldest – and safest, he had believed – something stirred.

Hux held his breath, startled by that hint of warmth he wasn't used to feeling. He cast a fleeting glace at Ren, afraid he might sense his interior dismay, and found him staring at the ceiling, a solemn crease between his eyebrows.

"I guess," Ren began wistfully. "I should just go back to smashing down your ships, then." His head rolled to his side and he met the General's eyes. Hux stared back.

Something had just happened. Something strange and unbelievable. Something so massive the whole universe must be shifting around it to balance the entity of such wonder.

For a moment, everything stopped. For a moment, they both forgot who they were and how much they hated each other, and smiled.

The warmth within Hux grew, fueled by something in Kylo Ren's appearance.

Objectively, Ren wasn't good-looking. Not in the conventional sense of the term. There was no grace in his proportions, no elegance in his bearing, yet, considering the whole picture, he was attractive. Attractive in a way Hux didn't really know how to handle.

There was something disturbingly sensual in the languor that had taken over Rens' body. It could be the fact that he was very well-toned and half naked, or it could be his current aura of helplessness, sending hot rushes of blood under Hux's hitching skin. He could do anything, right now. He could choke Ren right there, with a single bare hand, and Ren wouldn't be able to fight back.

A part of Hux called for the satisfaction it would bring him to just try that; yet, another part of him – a regrettably large one, even – longed for a different kind of touch, to give in to completely different instincts he firmly refused to acknowledge.

But the impulse was there, crawling under his fingertips, eliciting unwanted pictures in his mind, making him wonder if Ren's hair was as soft as it looked, what it would feel like if the General performed those ministrations without his leather gloves.

The mere idea of actually touching Ren's burning skin nearly drove Hux insane.

"You look uneasy, General."

Jolted back to reality, away from those inappropriate fantasies, Hux withdrew his hand so abruptly he dropped the basin in his lap. Ren's eyes, glassy but vigilant, were scanning the General's face way too intently.

"I know what you're thinking."

Hux scoffed. "You don't know a bloody thing."

"You could do that. I wouldn't be able to oppose, even if I wanted to."

Hux arched a brow. Which of the two options was Ren referring to? The one in which Hux strangled him or…

"If you wanted?" he inquired, just for clarity.

Ren held his gaze. "If I wanted."

Hux's mouth went dry. He felt haunted by a thirst he had never experienced before. Ren was right there. All he had to do was reach out and…

"I can't believe you're actually making me consider that," Hux huffed, then froze. He hadn't meant to say that aloud.

Despite the high fever, Ren looked amused. "You can't blame your personal inclinations on me, Hux."

No, I suppose not, Hux admitted begrudgingly to himself, then frowned. "Did you just –?"

"I warn you, General," Ren whispered, exhaustion muffling his voice. "I'm about to fall asleep, and I know you'd never take advantage of a sleeping man."

"As a matter of fact," Hux objected offendedly. "I wouldn't take advantage of a man delirious with fever, either."

Ren curled his lips slightly. "Such a pity," he sighed, and made it sound so sincere. "Neither of us will have the guts to ever bring up this subject again."

It wasn't just that. Hux was sure Ren wouldn't even be able to remember any of this conversation, in the morning. Or perhaps it was only wishful thinking.

Perhaps…

Forbidding himself to think too much about it, Hux drew the chair closer to the bed and stretched out his hand to brush it over Ren's ardent face, moving some strands of wet hair aside. The heat emanating from Ren's body was calling to Hux, making him wish he were lying beside him, even for a little while.

Ren leant into his palm like a touch-starved puppy, and slowly, just like that, drifted into sleep.

Hux was mesmerised. Asleep, Ren looked nothing like his ordinary self. He seemed peaceful. Innocent.

Moved by a fervent curiosity, Hux ghosted his hand down Ren's neck, along his torso, stroking smooth, tough muscles. He had never touched anyone like this before. Not with lust, but with reverent devotion.

He stopped when he realised he was being inappropriate. He found a blanket and tucked it over Ren; it was too small to cover all of him, but large enough to keep him warm where his clothes couldn't. Where Hux couldn't. Hells, he hadn't realised how hungry for physical contact he had been all these years, until this very moment.

He stopped dead in his tracks, scowling in disbelief. How had he ended up from wanting to kill Ren with his bare hands to wishing to keep him warm in a matter of hours? How had Ren tricked him into this folly? Was it some sort of mind manipulation making Hux want to… to…

"Stay," Ren mumbled, stirring in his sleep.

An invisible force clawed at Hux's chest.

Stay.

As if.

As if.

It was so tempting… Ren lying there, needing nothing but comfort – requesting nothing but comfort…

No one would know. It couldn't hurt. Just once couldn't hurt. Just once would be enough.

Just this once, he thought, cold in his bones, as he rose from the chair to sit down next to Ren and his irresistible heat. Just this once and never again.

Never again.

Stay, Ren had said.

So he did.

X

When they met, in the morning, it was as if the night before had never happened. Everything had gone back to its usual regime. Everything was normal again.

Ren stood in front of Hux in the middle of the corridor, looking better than he had when Hux had left him, hours before. Better, but not good, Hux noted, taking in the blue shades under Ren's eyes, the distinct limp in his walking.

Hux's fingers flexed, the feeling of Ren's presence lingering under them and seemingly impossible to erase. Hux had tried to forger, but his body hadn't. His body remembered – oh, so vividly – and didn't seem to want to forget.

"Ren," Hux greeted formally.

Ren stared unblinkingly. "General."

There was something in his eyes. Something that seemed to be calling to Hux. Probing. Inquiring.

Hoping?

Ren, too, remembered.

Hux had no idea what to make of this. It should have been awkward, to stand there and wonder, but truth was it wasn't. If anything, it was excruciating.

It was not like anything had happened. They had just… been there. Together. Sharing nothing but body heat and perhaps some mutual need of feeling.

Whatever it had been, it would never be again. It was pointless to even consider it would be otherwise.

"You look stiff, General," Ren remarked casually. "You didn't sleep well?"

Hux's heart skipped a beat. "I slept splendidly, if you must know."

"Good." Ren's eyes searched him, and Hux barely had the time to reproach himself for his own nervousness, when the corner of Ren's lips twitched mischievously. "So did I."

Hux felt an irresistible urge to punch him in the face and an equally irresistible urge to do quite the opposite.

Ren, however, acted conveniently oblivious to Hux's ruminations. He simply gave Hux a nod and brushed past him down the hallway, his cape flowing behind him – still limping, still pale and ill-looking, but apparently carrying himself a little more vigorously.

Dramatic bastard, Hux grumbled to himself, watching Ren leave from the corner of his eye. Vile, disagreeable human trash.

Hux strode in the opposite direction than Ren's, his stomping steps echoing in the empty passage, mentally listing the many the reasons why he definitely should have left damn Ren die from his own stupidity. He was blissfully unaware of the smug look plastered across his face.

Gradually, his scorn melted away, drowning into something warm and bright.

Enough became not enough.

Never again became maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

X

Notes: Sorry for any typo that may have escaped my proofreading. English is not my native language, so there may be other mistakes here and there. Sorry for those, too.
Thanks in advance to anyone who will leave a review. I may write a sequel to this, if my inspiration endures. These two are such a beautiful pair.