Chapter 2: Roadblock
Summary:
Hux and Ben spend the day exploring the magnificent Sawtooth wilderness. What could possibly go wrong?
[excerpt]:
"He continued to float. The sounds of splashing grew louder as a pair of legs suddenly appeared in front of him. Hux stood, his lungs filling with the clean air.
Hux looked at the snowfields which persisted despite the August heat, its bright white painting the crevices between the gray, granite peaks.
"It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Yes, it is," Ben murmured, his eyes firmly on Hux."
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
Hux ran the skillet under the faucet, the remnants of his fried egg and potatoes resisting his efforts as he scraped the browned material from the edges and the water collected and sputtered into the growing mess.
He stared out the window as the detritus began to loosen and float. The thermometer outside was already registering 85 degrees, and the needle was inching forward with each passing hour. He turned the window's crank clockwise, hoping for a breeze, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and he had to settle for the high-pitched whirring of the field crickets and fork-tailed katydids which came in through the angled pane instead.
If he craned his neck, he could just make out several of the grazing Holsteins from Piell's farm. He sighed as he noted that their red and black tails were pointed west. It looked as if the old man was right; rain didn't seem to be in the forecast, at least not for tonight.
He went back to scouring the residue from the pan as well as the sticky yolk from his plate, rinsing them quickly before placing the items in the dish rack which sat to the side. Years of use had caused the plastic to warp and crack, and the rubber mat underneath had turned an alarming shade of gray. He watched as the pan slowly tilted, the droplets of water sliding off the cast iron surface and onto the surface beneath.
An angry shout broke through the silence. He swiveled his head towards the television screen, where an obscenity or three burst forth from a woman clad in a fluorescent pink top and acid-washed jeans. The noise grew as a shamefaced man cowered and the studio audience bellowed while the host smugly egged them on. Hux puttered around the apartment, shaking and picking through the containers of sunblock and insect repellant before placing the near-full ones in his bag. He added some trail mix to the side pocket and grabbed an extra bottle of water, hesitating briefly before maneuvering it neatly into the bottom of the pack.
The seconds ticked by like minutes. The sun rose, the buzzing outside growing louder and higher in his ears.
He tried not to think about how quickly he reached for his phone when it finally rang.
"Hey."
"Hey." He could hear Ben's easy going grin from the other side. "We're finished here. I'm leaving my car at the realtor's office in Heinmot instead of traveling back to Little Falls. I figure it would be easier, this way."
"Good idea." Hux aimed for appropriately casual, but it came out as an excited squeak.
"Sooo," Ben drawled after a pause. "Are you coming to pick me up? Or am I going to stand around looking at the Canyon Ranch Properties sign all afternoon?"
"Would be a shame to let you think that's the best sight Idaho has to offer. I'm on my way now."
'Kay. See you soon. And Hux?"
"Yeah?"
"Uhhh-no comments regarding today's sartorial choices. It's the best that I could manage on such short notice."
If Hux wasn't already in a rush to get to Heinmot, Ben's last comment caused him to dash out of the apartment out of sheer curiosity.
Heinmot. Hux could get there in as quick as fifteen minutes, if he pushed. He ran to the Jeep, ignoring the swift burn as he slid into the already hot seat, and pulled into the Canyon Ranch parking lot in under just under thirteen.
He smiled as Ben climbed out of the Porsche. He watched as a long leg shot out, the hem of the tan Carhartt duck pants coming up several inches above his ankles to show off his marled quarter socks. Ben's torso followed next. It was clothed in a tee which had seen better days, the threadbare material stretching tightly across the planes of his chest as the ragged hem barely dipped below his waist. It probably didn't help that the shirt was being pulled in all directions as Ben stood and stretched, the expanse of his muscles flexing deliciously underneath.
Ben caught Hux looking. Instead of looking sheepish, he shot him a cocky grin, turning around slowly as if to model the latest in hiking gear. The proportions were all off: the inseam too short, the waist too low, and the rise too high, but the effect only served to highlight the shapeliness of his ass and the girth of his thighs. He wore his hair loose, the fringe falling forward and skimming his brow. Out of a button down and in the broad daylight, Hux could see that Ben's tattoo was quite large, the intricate pattern covering the widest part of his forearm and scrawling past his elbow until it disappeared underneath the edge of his sleeve.
"Bummed the pants off one of the workers. Closest thing we could come up with, that wouldn't cut off my circulation or raise my voice up an octave," Ben said, taking in Hux's amused expression.
Hux laughed. "Shirt too, I see."
"Oh, no," Ben smirked. "That one's all mine."
They drove northwest; the heat, which rippled in waves off the wide valley floor, gradually lessened as they began to climb. The highway followed the path of the Big Wood River, winding through the arid foothills as the outlines of granite-spired peaks drew near. The Jeep's engine began to strain as the temperature cooled, brown turned green, and the cottonwoods and maples made way for the hemlocks and lodgepole pines.
Hux pointed out the spectacular vista as they approached Galena Summit.
"This is the highest highway summit in the Northwest," he said, pointing to the sign which signaled that they had reached 8,701 feet. He stopped at the pullout. "Great trails for cross country skiing and snowshoeing." He looked at Ben pointedly. "We've got dirt roads and a lot of snow up here though, so if you're interested in that sort of thing, it would be best to invest in a four-wheel drive."
Ben whistled as he looked at the panoramic view, the sides of the mountain spilling and tilting out into the foothills and down to the meadows of the vale below.
"Man. This is everything. Are we going to hit one of the trailheads around here?"
"I've got one in mind. It's about seven miles roundtrip, and there's some switchbacks and scrambling involved. But there's also a gorgeous alpine lake at the end, if you're up for a cold swim."
Ben looked at him, eagerly accepting the challenge. "Lead the way."
They passed a town at the base of the craggy, snow-capped peaks. It was small-even smaller than Sinopa, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of town with a population numbering sixty one. The buildings conjured up visions of the Old Western frontier, fashioned out of brown planking topped with purlin roofs and surrounded by split log fences. Hux parked at the town's edge, catching his reflection in the Jeep's window as he closed the door.
He stared briefly at his muted image. It was not dissimilar to how he looked ten years ago when he arrived in Sinopa at the age of nineteen. Perhaps his face was now a bit harder, a bit leaner, but his skin was still smooth and wrinkle-free, despite the altitude's harsh winters and bright sun. His hair—transitioning depending on the season between ginger red and a stawberry blonde - was the last remaining tie to his asshole of a father, and still thick and free from any signs of fade.
Hux led them across a small bridge bordered by buckwheat and sundew. The trail grew steep as they hiked deeper into the mountains, the width of the path narrowing and disappearing in sections as they progressed. The mid-afternoon sun reflected off the face of the jagged cliffs, the sheer drops dotted with the tight green foliage of the rocky spines which shot valiantly into the clear blue sky. The pair worked sure-footedly along the switchbacks as the glaciated canyon floor pitched off dangerously to the side and their lungs filled with the tangy scent of sweet and sticky pine. When they reached the clearing, Hux heard Ben's intake of breath, which had nothing to do with the last hard scramble up the granite scree.
The lake sparkled, with water so clear you could see straight down to the rocks below, framed by the bony, fractured peaks of the Sawtooths rising above. Hux was not a religious man by any means, but he often thought that being here was as close to epiphany as one could be.
Ben sat down on a flat expanse of a rock and gratefully took the bottle from Hux.
"Thanks," he said, downing the water in several gulps. Hux watched as Ben's lips curled over the opening, the lines of his throat working as he swallowed the liquid down. Ben let out a pleasured sigh as finished. He tilted his head back, the sun warming his face, a droplet of water hanging from the corner of his mouth before handing the bottle back to Hux.
Hux settled down next to Ben. They sat in companionable silence, watching as a pair of Swainson hawks swooped in circles overhead and the gray jays chattered and whistled in the background.
"So you're really thinking about buying something out here?" Hux asked.
"Yeah. Thinking pretty seriously about it, actually."
"Like a vacation place, or something more permanent?"
Ben watched Hux for a second before looking out across the water. "Neither, to be exact. I spend most of my time in LA. I like it out here, though-the privacy, the solitude."
Hux looked down. He took a small rock and scraped it along the surface on which they sat.
"LA must be glamorous."
"It's alright." Ben hesitated, then relaxed his shoulders as he confessed. "I live there because of my job. I'm an actor. Lately, I've been doing film. Mostly indie ones, Sundance kind of stuff."
He turned. Hux had thought that Ben's eyes were a dark brown, but as they reflected the light from the sky and the sun, they appeared a molten gold.
"I just finished shooting something that's-well, the opposite of small. That's probably the understatement of the century." He laughed, the sound a strange combination of embarrassment and excitement. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy to have gotten the part. But I've spent so much of my life trying to stay out of the spotlight, and when the movie comes out, I'll be thrust in it again. I value my privacy, and it's a near impossibility in LA."
Hux sucked in his breath between his teeth. Shit. He had no idea that Ben was an actor. A fucking celebrity.
"So what's the movie? Is it like The Avengers or something?"
Ben smiled enigmatically. "Or something."
"Wow. So you're basically looking to pull a Harrison Ford, just out in Idaho instead?"
Ben startled, looking at him strangely.
"Interesting comparison, but yeah."
Hux stared, a million unanswered questions on the tip of his tongue. The mid-afternoon sun was unrelentingly hot even in this altitude, and he felt a bead of sweat form on his brow.
"Can I ask you something? If you value your privacy so much, then why-I mean, the way you dress, what you drive." The way you look. "You don't look like you're trying very hard to hide."
Ben looked at Hux strangely. "I'm not trying to hide. What does what I wear-or for that matter, what I eat, or where I go, or who I fuck-have anything to do with my right to privacy?
"Of course it doesn't," Hux amended quickly. "But it's human nature. You're inviting people to talk."
There was an angry glint in Ben's eyes. "I'm not inviting anything. I'm just trying to be who I am." He picked up a small stone, fingering the irregular surface against the palm of his hand. He turned it over several times, as if mulling over the variegated colors and rough edges, before side arming it into the lake. The faint plop seemed to echo throughout the vast space, the ripples from its impact spreading out before disappearing underneath the water's surface.
Ben grunted, before pulling off his shirt. Hux tried not to stare as the taller male lay back, rolling up the cloth and placing in under the nape of his neck. He tried to keep his eyes busy; there was only one hawk visible now, its form silhouetted against the sun, diving and arcing in its lethal grace.
It was so quiet that he thought Ben may have fallen asleep.
"I grew up in the public eye, you know." The words were soft, and when Hux looked down, Ben had cracked one eye open. His hand was raised to his forehead, shading himself from the glare of the sun. "My mom and dad were no strangers to the media. Activists, turned politicians. Even our family vacations weren't private; you can't imagine what it was like. There was nothing off limits. The school I went to, my first kiss, every little event put out there and treated like it was the most important thing in the world."
Hux blushed furiously as he remembered his own first kiss. He was only eight, sleeping over at his best friend's house during the last week of summer break. They had been huddled under the covers of Thanisson's twin bed, talking about girls. Thanisson confessed his crush on Katie Unamo, and the two of them had bet on whether Thanisson would be able to make Katie his girlfriend and kiss her by year's end. Hux had joked off-handedly that Thanisson's familial greetings with his parents didn't count as real kisses, and that Thanisson wouldn't have the faintest idea of what to do should Katie prove willing.
Which is why Thanisson suggested that they practice, and being the great friend that he was, Hux of course had agreed. Their kiss had been clumsy and sloppy, all chapped lips and clacking teeth. But when Thanisson pulled back, embarrassed and perhaps a bit horrified, Hux was left mortified upon realizing that despite their obvious inexperience, he had actually liked it. That when he looked at Thanisson-beautiful with that swirling confusion in his brown eyes and the reddening of his swollen lips, the faint scent of his Ivory soap and the firmness of his slim chest-he had wanted more.
Ben leaned back again, closing his eyes. "By the time I was older, they moved on to the next celebrity kid du jour. Thank God. I was finally able to do the things that I wanted, to make a life for myself. Not as Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, but Ben Solo, semi-successful actor." He flashed a cocky grin.
"I get that." Hux glanced at Ben. He looked so peaceful, his broad chest rising and falling with each deep and steady breath. "And I guess it's hard, not only on you, but on the other people in your life. Your family, your girlfriend."
Ben shrugged. "No girlfriend. No boyfriend either, for that matter," he added meaningfully as he looked at Hux.
Hux shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He didn't know where to look. Away would be obvious and rude, and there was nowhere safe on Ben. It was either into his knowing eyes, or at his sinfully plush lips, or his wide shoulders, or his perfectly sculpted chest. If he looked down, he saw Ben's defined stomach-Good Lord, was that an eight-pack?-dotted by the line of dark hair which trailed below the waistband of those ridiculously endearing pants.
Hux flicked his eyes upwards, to the relative safety of Ben's tattoo. The intricate design covered the greater part of his left forearm and reached towards his shoulder like a sleeve. The inky markings filled his skin with a geometric pattern of parallel lines and shapes, both thin and bold, angular and circular, complex yet co-existing in perfect symmetry.
Ben caught the direction of Hux's wandering gaze. "I was fascinated by Polynesian tattoos ever since I saw them as a kid. I knew I was going to get one as soon as I was old enough."
Hux leaned forward, mesmerized by the patterned lines.
"It's not just a skilled art. The images and shapes also have meanings." Ben brought his arm up and around as he pointed to the different patterns. "A spearhead symbolizes courage and the will to fight. The Marquesan cross shows a balance between the elements and harmony. The sea shell is for protection and family." He looked at Hux. "And intimacy."
As if with a mind of its own, Hux's extended his fingers, tracing the blackened nautilus-like curve and jagged edge on his skin. Ben stilled, the muscles tensing underneath Hux's tentative touch.
Ben stared at Hux as they looked at each other in awkward silence. When Ben finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"I'm going in for a swim."
He stripped out of his pants quickly, and before Hux could say anything his boxers were on the ground as well. He walked to the edge of the lake, and Hux couldn't stop staring at the corded muscles of Ben's defined back, or the way his muscular buttocks flexed with each step of his powerful legs.
"Are you coming in?" Ben asked, turning halfway around.
Hux couldn't answer even if he wanted to. The words died in his throat, thwarted by the dryness of his mouth and the loss of his breath.
Life could not be this unfair. The fates could not have graced Ben Solo with such height, strength, and beauty, and still found him worthy enough to adorn that glorious body with the most magnificent cock Hux had ever seen.
Hux squeezed his eyes tight. He heard the swirling of water as Ben entered the lake, followed by a larger splash, but all Hux could picture was how Ben's perfectly shaped prick had lay there when he had turned, long and heavy and thick against his thigh.
"Fuck, that's cold!" Ben spluttered, laughing as he stood. He dove in again, his body arcing below the water as Hux watched him from underneath his half-lidded eyes.
Ben righted himself once more, the lake water sluicing down his back. Even from the shore, Hux could see the clear droplets hanging from his nose and sliding down those angular cheeks. Ben raised his arms, brushing back the locks of hair which had lay dripping and heavy in front of his eyes. When he finished, he kept his hands behind his head, momentarily looking like Poseidon greeting the sun.
Ben cocked an eyebrow in challenge. "So. Are you joining me, or what?"
Hux stood. He shed his shirt and his jeans, hesitating as he remained clad in his white briefs. There was no one else here but the two of them, nor was there likely to be. Goat Lake was not one of the more popular trails, and a Monday in late August meant even fewer hikers.
Ben said nothing as his eyebrow remained arched. Hux was not ashamed of his lean and wiry frame, but he had never felt completely comfortable in his own skin. He took a deep breath, shoving the underwear down to his ankles and stepping out of them quickly before he could change his mind. He hurried to the water's edge and waded in.
The cold water surprised him with its sharp sting. He could feel his skin raising into little goosebumps in protest, to mention nothing of his dick and his balls, which seemed to be retreating back into the warmth and safety of his body at an alarming rate. To save himself any further embarrassment, he held his breath and dove in.
The water swirled and slid over him. The sunlight glinted over the floor, reflecting the mountains and the sky. The soreness of his muscles numbed in the cold, and he felt detached and nearly weightless as he floated with the kiss of the sun on his back.
He continued to float. The sounds of splashing grew louder as a pair of legs suddenly appeared in front of him. Hux stood, his lungs filling with the clean air.
Hux looked at the snowfields which persisted despite the August heat, its bright white painting the crevices between the gray, granite peaks.
"It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Yes, it is," Ben murmured, his eyes firmly on Hux.
Hux's nipples were hard and puckered from the cold, yet he felt nothing short of feverish. He watched as Ben moved in, hard muscled and with a wolfish expression on his face.
The cooing and peta-pete calls of the flushing grouse faded as Hux first felt the tickle of Ben's breath. A hot tongue flicked out, licking the skin behind Hux's ear before working its way down to the crook of his neck. Ben's mouth was demanding, nipping over Hux's pulse point, the sensation shooting straight down to his cock as it swelled and hardened in response. Hux wrapped his hands around the nape of Ben's neck, his thin fingers twining into those long, ebony locks as he directed Ben towards his mouth.
Ben's licked the droplets off of Hux's lips, tasting the alpine water mixed with the salt of Hux's sweat. He smelled of spice and musk and the mountain air, his tongue stifling Hux's moan as it slid in between Hux's slightly parted lips. The water gently swirled, pushing Hux forward as his feet gripped against the slippery floor, the rocks smooth and sloping against the soles of his feet. He tilted unsteadily until he felt a pair of strong hands traveling reaching around the small of his back, drawing him closer and holding him firm.
Ben's large hands kneaded Hux's ass, his grip growing possessive and needy. Hux nearly mewled as his cock was pushed up against Ben's, throbbing yet insistent and so achingly hard. His hips tilted forward of their own accord and he began to rut, seeking friction against that delicious thickness, so long and slick.
Ben's voice broke through the lusty haze. "God, I want you so much Hux," he growled as his skilled fingers slipped into the space between Hux's cheeks.
Hux stiffened. His breath stuttered in inadequate huffs, too fast and shallow. He looked around wildly and turned, his heart slamming against his ribs as he desperately pushed against the water in an attempt to reach the shore.
"Hux! Wait!"
Hux's limbs flailed as Ben lumbered after him, his legs making up the distance in several long strides as they reached the water's edge. Hux's vision blurred as he struggled to pull on his jeans, the denim sticking to and catching against his wet skin.
"Hux, please." Ben stood, naked and dripping wet. "I'm sorry if I misread things. Are-are you with someone? I thought..?"
Hux turned to Ben, his eyes wet and fierce. He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it as his shoulders slumped down.
"There's no one," Hux said, sighing as he took a seat. "There hasn't been anyone, for a long time."
Ben watched Hux carefully. When he realized Hux wasn't about to bolt, he relaxed slightly, shrugging on his clothes. When he finished, he took a seat beside him and waited patiently.
Hux looked out across the lake. It's vastness seemed to mock him.
"I can't do this. You're just a visitor; you'll have your fun, and leave. This is where I live, where I have to stay," he said dully.
He grew angry at Ben's quizzical look. "Sinopa's not San Francisco, or New York, or LA," he said. "There's no out-and-proud parades, or galleries looking to host the next Mapplethorpe retrospective, or viewers champing at the bit for LOGO-type programming on TV. This is cowboy country, Ben. Flag-waving, NRA-supporting, live-and-breathe-until-I-die-Republican country. You just can't get away with this kind of stuff here."
For years, Hux had tried to fit in. He struggled with his shame, trading in the memories of his first kiss for those with girls, so cleanly scrubbed and pigtailed and soft. He glanced at the nudie magazines with the rest of his classmates, engaging in the usual comments about their huge tits or wet pussies, things which did absolutely nothing for his dick. He even took pretty, sweet Jessika Pava to the prom-a catch, said his friends, and the head cheerleader to boot. Jessika had turned down the school quarterback in favor of Hux, because she respected Hux's 'Godly' behavior. She never realized that the reason he never pressured her for sex had nothing to do with his religion, but rather because she possessed a chest and an ass which were too soft and too curved for his tastes.
He had resorted to porn. The internet had been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, in that it had provided him with a crash course in sexual education and a lifetime's worth of spanking material in the process. A curse, because there was nothing which could have prepared him for the humiliation and the pain which resulted when his online activities were finally uncovered. His mother had wailed, and his father had whaled-striking him to within an inch of his life. To beat the faggot out of you, Hux Sr. had said, before hauling him off to church to make him repent for his sins.
"So you've never been with a guy?" Ben asked softly.
"No. I've thought about it, and God knows I've jerked off to the idea of it. But I've never experienced it." Hux laughed bitterly. "At least I'm not a total virgin. That glorious experience came right after high school. Imagine, a stag party, with a paid girl who's shoving her tits in your face as she grinds into your cock in front of your friends, and the only way you can come is by imagining she's the groom."
Ben looked at him sorrowfully. "If you're so miserable here, why do you stay?"
"And go where? I've got no family to speak of. No money, and nowhere to go."
"And what do you have if you stay here? You're what, thirty? You stay and hide behind these barriers you've thrown up around yourself, and for what purpose? To lock yourself into some loveless marriage with a girl who deserves better because you're thinking about her brother while you fuck her, or to live out the remaining sixty years of your life alone?"
A wave of anger washed over Hux. "That's easy for you to say," he spat. "You've got it all. A job you love. Financial security. A supportive family."
Ben snorted. "You think it's any easier for me? That the popular notions of what it means "to be a man" doesn't exist in New York or LA? You think that it was easy for me when I discovered my preference for men, living with the guilt of how it could affect my family and their position in the public eye? Or perhaps you think that it was smooth sailing when I had to fight my agent and my publicist, both of whom wanted me to keep my homosexuality under wraps while engaging in a studio-manufactured, hetero romance?"
Hux looked away. "It's not the same. You're you, and I'm me."
Ben stared at him for a long moment. "You're a coward, is what you are."
The words hit Hux harder than if Ben had slammed his fist into his face. He's been called names before; his father had slung them out with regularity. Fag. Homo. Shit stabber. Deviant. Sinner.
But he thinks that none may have hurt more than this.
Hux stood, unable to help the tears which threatened to spill from his eyes. He angrily pulled at his shirt, everything feeling tight and sticky and just plain old wrong.
"Fuck you, Ben," he wheezed, his gasps and saliva falling unattractively from his mouth. Everything suddenly tasted so sour. "Fuck you."
"God Hux, I didn't mean it like that." Ben's face was flushed with guilt. "I'm really sorry."
Hux didn't turn around. He needed to get out, to get away from Ben now.
He propelled his body forward, not caring if he was acting like a dick.
"I'm heading back now. If you want a ride, you'd better keep up behind me, or you're on your own."
The hike back was sheer agony. Everything was so angry and tense, and the beauty of the surroundings, so magnificent in the sunlight, looked foreboding with the lowering sun. Hux didn't slow down as he descended over the steep drops, nearly stumbling as he twisted his foot on the slimy and slippery scree. He heard Ben behind him, huffing along in patient silence, taking the punishment that Hux was inflicting upon him as he set a brutal pace.
But even with the quickened speed, the return trip seemed interminable, and the drive back was no better. Hux sat in angry stillness, trying to negotiate the winding turns as quickly as he could as the shadows continued to lengthen and fall. In an effort to distract himself from the uneasy silence, he made the mistake of turning on the radio the second they hit the valley floor.
Hux let out a snort when he heard a male voice croon sadly against the plaintive wails of the steel and acoustic guitars:
Well gone so long and all alone, too far gone to try
With all them dreams and all them scenes just living in my mind
Fuckityfuckfuck. Fucking Garth Brooks. Figures, Hux fumed, as he silenced the mocking words.
They drove the rest of the way in stilted silence, Ben occasionally shifting as he uneasily rearranged his tall frame and repositioned his long legs against the floor. His huge, physical presence was a near-impossibility to ignore, and the heat and apology seemed to roll off his body in waves, filling the Jeep as well as Hux's nostrils and lungs and suffocating him in his misery.
Hux had never been happier to reach the town limits of Sinopa and Heinmot. He slid into the parking lot of the realty, braking hard and choking back an angry satisfaction as the car pitched forward next to Ben's Porsche.
He kept his head forward as Ben turned.
"Look, Hux. For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry. You're right-I'm not you. I shouldn't have said what I did."
Hux stared ahead, looking at the worn edges of the Canyon Ranch sign, suddenly fascinated by the faded lettering which had begun to warp.
Ben shifted nervously. "Uhhh-I still owe you for the day." He fumbled for his wallet.
"Is $500 ok?" He swallowed, suddenly flustered upon seeing the hard look on Hux's face. "$1000?"
"Jesus, Ben. I don't want your stupid money!" Hux shouted, reduced to the vocabulary of a ten year old. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.
"Let me at least cover the gas," Ben said, holding out the bills beseechingly.
Hux's impotence was swallowed by his rage. He began to push, to prod, doing all he could to get Ben's hulking body out the damn door.
"Get out, OUT!"
Ben held his hands up in surrender. He opened his mouth in a last entreaty, but the words became lost in the sound of the slamming and locking door.
Hux took off, the dust kicking up behind him as the Jeep gathered speed. He refused to look back, to see if Ben was still watching him with the same pitying and apologetic look on his face. Piell's farm loomed ahead. It seemed so sad and lifeless in the dying rays of the setting sun, the machinery unmoved and the crops half barren. The landscape continued for several miles more until he finally came up to the well-worn shape of a single story building, decorated with its weather-beaten siding and a neon Open sign on the front.
Everything about this place should have been comforting and familiar.
Hux had never felt so empty or useless in his life.
Phasma was standing outside, looking out into the mountains as she sipped her beer, her blond hair nearly white against the orange sun.
"Phasma," Hux croaked. Her eyes widened and the tears finally broke as he fell into her arms, loose and hot and heavy, their bitterness stinging the back of his parched throat.
~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~~O~
Notes:
Song lyrics: "She Don't Care About Me," by Garth Brooks