Ren Waugh-Solo (behindthemask) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-11-21 22:08:00 |
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The air felt charged, but it might have been Kylo himself that was projecting his own emotional state onto the earth around him. It wouldn't be the first time in his life he'd done that, and probably it wouldn't be the last, which is part of why he'd needed to get out of the cottage and away from people. That Eliot had chosen to come with him - Kylo wasn't certain if that was a good thing or not. He hadn't been this angry for a long time, and the truth was, and if Kylo were being honest he knew this, he wasn't angry at some stupid teenage kid whose voice probably hadn't even dropped yet. He was angry at a lot of other people. Margo. Possibly everyone in the cottage except for Eliot. His parents. Himself. It was the last one that was probably the person he was running from the most, and unfortunately, it was also the person that he carried with him and couldn't escape from. He'd bit off the self-loathing comment to Eliot - 'child murdering patricidal villain' - but it wasn't an untrue one was it? He'd killed his father out of some mistaken belief that it would give him the strength and power that he thought he wanted. It had done neither. And while he wouldn't take responsibility for Hosnian Prime, he'd been behind multiple instances of death and destruction either directly or through an order. He didn't pretend otherwise, but there was a difference between pretending otherwise and having it thrown in his face. He slowed slightly, aware of Eliot there, and for an instant he felt a longing to return to New York where it had just been the two of them, and nobody knew who he was and nobody cared so intensely that he ached. Where did he think he was going to go? He just hoped Leia didn't see the conversation. It was bad enough she had seen Margo's. It wasn't as if she was unaware, obviously. But he didn't like the idea of it getting rubbed into her face. Probably he shouldn't care about that - but he did. The longing bled into a different sort of hurt, one that was less easily fixed and that Kylo didn't begin to know where to start with. "If you asked for a show of hands of Displaced who have killed people, I bet half the hands would raise - if not more," he snapped at Eliot. An attempt to numb the Leia-shaped pain, that really only made him feel guilty for snapping at Eliot. He swallowed, turned, and added with less force: "But you don't see people going on about them. I wasn't trying to threaten her." Eliot hadn't spoken as of yet. His phone had been pocketed and he'd emerged from the living room, where he'd been originally looking over his lines and occasionally glancing at the network, just in time to follow Kylo out the front door. He kept pace with him and his expression was dead cold as his mind cycled through varying degrees of emotion. While he displayed a sense of calm with his quick reflex, interceding to try to stop Kylo from saying more, he was far from it in his own mind. Concern was the most dominant of his emotions. His heart had sank as soon as he saw Henry speaking in an obvious direction of shade about Kylo. He'd not filtered through all of the comments before his mind was already racing to a prayer that Kylo hadn't seen the words. That prayer was gone moments later. He hadn't been able to reach out to Kylo in time. He wasn't able to shield him from the words of others. And Kylo had reacted. Eliot didn't view Kylo's words as a threat towards Henry, but Eliot also knew that he didn't come into it the way someone else would. Others brought perceptions that were based solely upon a narrative instead of interaction. And popular perception of Kylo was that he was a threat, so his words became one, even if it wasn't an intent. It was this reason, more than any else, that Eliot suggested Kylo step away. An argument was not going to be swayed by Kylo. Eliot wouldn't even be able to argue for him. It would just be viewed as a bias. It was better to step away in this instance. And concern was mixed in with anger as well as hurt. His anger was the natural progression of the tensions that had been there for weeks. That facet of his anger wasn't directed at Kylo, but that didn't mean some wasn't caused by him. The comment dug into Eliot's chest and hit the nerve that Margo had been hitting for weeks. It sent a shockwave of anger through Eliot that he was not used to while doubling back to bring forth a deep ache. He did not focus on that however. The concern was primary and his other underlying emotions were trying to be tampered. Instead, his jaw set more with Kylo's words. "I know that," was all he managed to really say. Kylo wanted to believe that. No, he supposed he did believe it. And maybe it was foolish of him, but he did genuinely believe Eliot, even as he doubted everything that he'd started to hope for over the past few weeks. Some part of him couldn't help but think, that if they'd started their relationship with him blurting out the truth of what happened to Han - to his father - before there even really was a relationship, surely that had to count for something. He just wasn't entirely certain what it counted for. A month ago everything had seemed deceptively easy and good and he should have known that it couldn't last. Nothing good ever seemed to. But also, that was the sort of thinking that wasn't super helpful right now. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to sort through the anger and the emotions without directing it outward. "I don't -" he started, and then stopped. The conversation that had been running through his head for most of the past few hours prior to the conversation on the network had been the one with his Grandfather. He'd been turning it over in his head near constantly as it had been happening and in the time since it. He still didn't know what to take away from it. He'd started with the intention of asking his grandfather about relationships, and while he'd gotten away from that notion initially, it had sort of circled back around to it. The tension had been palpable in the cottage for weeks. Maybe you didn't have to be someone who had the Force to feel it, but for Kylo it had been undeniable. He'd swallowed so many snide remarks and left the room when he could have said something, and generally - he felt anyway- tried valiantly to ignore it for Eliot's sake. He'd even tried to actually approach it and perhaps come to some sort of compromise. And he felt as if he'd failed with all of that, and the end result was a building irritation, that he was managing, but his grandfather's words had kept playing, maybe because they had hit on a fear he hadn't entirely vocalized. Everyone thought he was dangerous. Maybe that was because he really truly was. He turned around to look at Eliot. Falling in love had not been part of the plan. Granted he really hadn't planned on Tumbleweed at all, but his intention had been to keep to himself until he had filled his time and could be returned home. Instead Eliot had sat with him, listened to the deepest regret that he had, and had told him to stay. He had pulled him in, and Kylo had gone willingly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. And then he repeated it more at a normal volume. The words weren't ones he was used to saying. He couldn't remember the last time he'd used them, but Eliot - who seemed to meet everyone and count them at the very least a friendly acquaintance, deserved a lot better than someone who had walked into the town with enemies. Eliot waited. With the first start, his eyebrow had raised just slightly, but then Kylo had let the words trail off. In turn, Eliot did not speak up, knowing that Kylo was likely going to find the actual words he wanted to use. He just didn't know where the conversation was going to go. When the words came, his shoulders dropped and his own gaze fell to the ground. He didn't enjoy feeling the way he did right now. "What for?" He asked, just as quiet, because he didn't want to make an assumption. He was egotistical and it had always been an issue, so his mind immediately wanted to leap to the apology being for the words that had stung. But that wasn't logical. And it wasn't as if the words were untrue. Eliot might not have liked the words but they were a truth he'd known all along. Kylo hadn't hid who he was from Eliot. Eliot had known about the First Order. He'd known about Han. He'd known that Kylo was in opposition to his family and even a novice in knowledge of Star Wars knew that this meant he leaned towards the dark side. And Eliot had also known, however, that Kylo held regrets. He felt guilt. The majority of the population wouldn't have been able to see this. They didn't watch as Kylo fought to try to shield Leia from pain. They didn't watch the man wrestle with his mistakes. Eliot had and Eliot knew it was genuine. Didn't he? Of course he did. Eliot knew. He took in a shaky breath. "Why did you start with him?" He asked quietly, referring to Henry. He wasn't even angry about it. He couldn't blame Kylo for trying to defend himself. It was just that the others couldn't see the words they were intended, not the way Eliot could. And had it been worth it? Emma had been trying to get Henry to stop it seemed. Eliot wasn't sure what he'd have done in Kylo's position. He'd taken a hell of a public beating when Alice had returned, which had bruised his ego, but he'd only asked her to stop when she began to hurt Kylo. Kylo loved Leia. Of this, Eliot was certain, even if Kylo did not say so himself. Henry's words would hurt Leia even if it wasn't Henry's intent. So, from that frame of perspective, Eliot could understand. But this was all Eliot making excuses for Kylo himself. He needed to know what Kylo was thinking. And part of him had an even deeper belief. This was rooted back to the Cottage, where they were living on pins and needles. There was only so much a person could take. And Eliot believed Kylo had hit the limit and Henry had just been the bystander; not the cause. "I don't know," Kylo's words sounded mangled to his ears, and he pulled in a breath of his own, frustration and hurt and anger bubbling up and threatening to overflow. "I don’t care what he thinks or doesn’t. I don’t even know him. He’s just some kid." He stopped. This was the exact thing he’d said to his Grandfather, he didn’t care. And he didn’t, except that it wasn’t just him was it? And that was the problem, had been the problem from the beginning. His very good intention to keep himself separate from Leia and Han when they had first been here, hadn’t worked, and even though Han was no longer here, Leia was. And even if it wasn’t Leia that gave birth to him, she still was connected to him. Kylo knew that somehow, she still considered him her son. And then there was Eliot. He groaned, audibly frustrated. "That’s not what I mean. I’m just –" except that he didn’t know where to begin. He’d been trying to be diplomatic about Margo, something he wasn’t particularly good at, and he’d been trying to just be a good person, which he thought meant not making too much of a fuss about anything. He turned his attention to a nearby rock, channeling the anger into it, the rock cracked, loudly, and he turned back to Eliot, pointing at it. "That. I can do that, and I don’t even break a sweat. And everyone here knows that, and assumes that I’m going to do it to them, and maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s just a matter of time, I don’t know. I’m –" he twisted his face up, and pulled a breath in. Feeling slightly calmer he stepped forward. "When I look at you, and I see you looking at me, I see someone I want to be. But I’m not him, and I’ll never be him. Not to them. Not to her. I wish-" he swallowed and trailed off. Eliot could feel the frustration reverberating off of Kylo and part of him wanted to step forward. He could wrap his arms around him and try to ease the frustration. He chose not too. He didn't want to contradict Kylo, didn't want to point out the statements that he believed to be fallacies, but it was difficult not to think about counterpoints. If Kylo hadn't cared, why put in the effort? Was it wrong to believe that Kylo did care? The sense of uncertainty and of personal doubt, that perhaps he was wrong, made Eliot suck in his inner lip, pressing it between his teeth. Was it possible that Eliot was projecting onto the man? It wasn't as though Eliot hadn't noticed their shared vulnerabilities. Maybe Eliot was truly believing something about Kylo because it was how Eliot was. He didn't like the sense of the maybe's. "You don't care?" He whispered. The audible groan came next and the words followed. At least there was that. Eliot wasn't wrong. He lifted his head and watched as Kylo turned away. His brows came together in frustration, not following the progression, until he heard the crack and his attention whipped around to the rock that Kylo was now pointing at. His lips parted but no words came to them. Eliot knew that. He knew how powerful Kylo was in the force and he knew that if Kylo chose to, it could be wielded in a destructive way. But when had Kylo last chosen to do that? Eliot had been adamant to Quentin, not so long ago, that Kylo would not hurt anyone. Not anymore. His gaze shifted as Kylo stepped towards him and he'd have spoke, or tried to, but Kylo was opening up. His own frustration seemed to melt away and his head cocked to the side. He took a step forward of his own. "People's view of you isn't going to change overnight, Ky," he began, "but that doesn't mean that it can't. Not if you want it to." Wasn't that the point of all of this? People could change but only if they wanted to. It didn't erase the past. It didn't change what had been done and it never would. But if he tried, and really wanted to, couldn't he strive towards atonement? The simplest thing to do more than likely would be to just retreat. Put the mask back on and hide behind it once again. Kylo had taken it off because he’d believed it would make him less recognizable, but when everyone simply spread everything over the network anyway, didn’t it not really do that at all? He might as well put it back on, and be the person they wanted him to be. Perhaps most telling was that this particular thought train was followed by a realization that he didn’t want to put that mask back on and maybe he hadn’t wanted to for a long time. His grandfather had asked him why he kept splitting himself; maybe it was time to stop. He reached out to take Eliot’s hand, lightly so he could pull back if he wanted to, aware that even if they both had powers, they weren’t shared powers exactly. "When I was a boy," his gaze dropped to look at their hands. "I thought I’d be a hero someday. That I’d right the galaxy’s wrongs. And when I’d get frustrated with Dad being dense about the Force, or the fact that I could feel Mom’s uneasiness when I used it – I’d pretend that I was that person. He had a fantastic lightsaber, and was smart, and witty, and handsome – although I was fairly aware at the time that was one of the greater stretches of the fantasy," Kylo’s lips turned up in a small smirk. "But my name was always on everyone’s lips. Ben Solo… Jedi warrior." He stopped. Falling silent as his thumb running across Eliot’s skin. There was something soothing about the gesture. It was a shortcut maybe, but Eliot’s touch was a source of calm -- even right now when he felt so frantic and frustrated. Kylo’s name was on everyone’s lips, and certainly as a warrior, but it was fear it inspired, and for all it had been a reaction he’d once sought, these days – he wished it was something closer to the fantasy. But probably the real fantasy had been the one where he’d believed that the Cottage could ever truly be home, and that he could find a place where he was, if not deeply cared for, at least accepted at face value, and not held to a past he could neither change nor destroy. The real fantasy had been some notion of being able to put away that man in the mask and pretend he’d never been him. The man in the mask pretending he’d never been Ben Solo had been an equal delusion. And right now, he was standing here in front of Eliot and wanting so badly to find that fantasy of belonging again. The idea of not being able to was pressing against his heart like it was caught in a tractor beam, pulling him towards a place he wasn’t certain he wanted to be and yet it also felt crystal clear to him. Like he’d known for much longer that he couldn’t break free of the conclusion. "El." The word caught in his throat and he had to swallow before he could continue. "I can’t stay." Eliot didn't pull away from the gesture. His hand turned, fingers curling to wrap around Kylo's, with his own gaze upon their linked hands. His eyes remained there, as the story washed over him, feeling a great sense of unease as the words were spoken. It wasn't as though there were anything necessarily alarming at face value with what Kylo was saying. No, it was that like Eliot understood how uneasy the stories about childhood were for Kylo. It had been the same for Eliot. He didn't have the same circumstances, the same tensions, but he still had the childhood that was not treasured and rarely spoken of willingly. Only the slightest flash of a smile teased at Eliot's lips, with the quip about it being a fantasy to ever be considered handsome. He didn't need to protest. He knew Kylo understood Eliot's view where that was concerned. But his eyes lifted when Kylo so freely used his birth name. His gaze was upon Kylo now and he did not speak. There was alarm now inside of Eliot and he couldn't even try to mask it. He did not realize how his hand had turned, just slightly, fingers spreading so he could try to lace them with Kylo's, as if to hold on tight. The earlier feelings of concern, anger, and hurt went away with the rise of the alarm, as Eliot's heart sped up. El. His heart sank before any words were further spoken. And then his lips parted, as he tried to take in a breath, feeling it difficult to do so. "Ky," was spoken but held far more meaning. It was a plea. Don't go. Kylo could hear the plea in the word as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud. It had felt from the beginning as if he could pick up on Eliot’s emotions so easily, and it had never been something that had hurt this badly, but this did. Still. There was clarity here, even if he didn’t much like it. And his grandfather’s words about what sacrifice actually meant were ringing in the back of his mind. And this felt obvious. Maybe the most obvious thing in the world even if his mind was screaming against the practicalities of what it would mean. No cuddling with Eliot and Millicent in the evening. No waking up to Eliot’s smile. No coffee in the am. Or Petunia’s quiet ways. Or… Kylo pushed the reminders of just what he was leaving to the back of his mind, and he dropped Eliot’s hand, and instead stepped in, his hands sliding up on either side of Eliot’s face, pulling him close into his space so that there could be no doubt about how he felt about the man in front of him. It didn’t feel like an overstatement to say Kylo would do anything for him. And his grandfather’s fears had heightened his own worries. "El," he said softly. "I love you." No, don't let go. The thought was so present in Eliot's mind, pushing to the forefront as soon as Kylo's hand dropped his, and for that millisecond, Eliot felt as if his world were about the crumble once again. That wasn't what his intention had been when he'd run after Kylo. Had Kylo finally hit a limit? Was he stepping away? What did he mean with 'I can't stay?' The smallest noise escaped from the back of Eliot's throat just before Kylo's hands were on his face. He found his hands scrambling to take hold of Kylo's shirt, clutching it between finger tips, as he swallowed to prevent any more sounds from escaping from his throat. And his eyes lifted, searching Kylo's gaze, looking quite a bit like his world were dangerously close to collapsing. But Kylo was there, hands upon him, and it gave the smallest sense of calm. And when the soft phrase was spoken, El's eyes swam. "And you are leaving," he whispered, because Eliot didn't know how to make sense of that previous statement in conjunction with the declaration. Kylo nodded, realizing after the fact that probably he could have explained his thought process better. He really hadn’t explained it at all. He hadn’t even mentioned to Eliot that he’d spoken to his Grandfather, and everything seemed as if it had been happening on top of itself. He moistened his lips, and looked up to catch Eliot’s gaze. "I don’t want to hurt you," he offered, as if that should make everything clear. And it did to him, but maybe it wouldn’t to El, so his thumb crossed Eliot’s cheek and he considered how to explain it so that it would make sense to him. "Margo doesn’t trust me. And I thought I needed to stick through that. Maybe a better man could, but I’m just me. And I can feel that. Maybe you’re right, and maybe Grandfather’s right, and it’s not too late for me to be something different," he swallowed, emotion catching up with him for a moment. "I want to believe that. But right now, I’m frustrated and angry and I’m afraid…" he paused, intensely looking at Eliot, willing him to understand that he didn’t want to leave. "And I’m not the best man when I’m those things. "I don’t want to hurt you," he repeated. "I couldn’t live with myself if I did so. And I don’t want to hurt someone you care about either. I don’t want more regrets and I don’t want any with you," he declared. He leaned forward, his next words only for Eliot even if there was no one else around who might hear them. "I want everything with you." Eliot let out a whimper as soon as the nod came. It wasn't an answer. It wasn't clarification. Kylo was leaving. Kylo was leaving and Eliot didn't fully know how he'd gotten to this moment. How had they stumbled into this conversation? How was it one moment ago he was being told words he'd never heard from another person, outside of his family as a child, to the person leaving? He sucked in the shakiest of breaths. Kylo's words were washing over him and he bowed his head, shutting his eyes. He wanted to focus in on the comfort of the caress but the cycle was unbreakable in his mind. Kylo didn't want to hurt him so Kylo was leaving. Lifting his head, he looked to Kylo, and forced composure. He forced himself to listen. "I trust you," he reminded him. He'd trust Kylo more than most of the Displaced. It had been Kylo, and Petunia, who had been with him from the beginning of all this. When he'd first arrived in space, still heavy hearted and full of regret and very little desire to press on, it'd been them who made him get better. Even if Kylo hadn't known at the time what he was doing to help Eliot. Eliot was unaware of the talks with Anakin but they did not surprise him. Knowing that Anakin agreed, at least on this, was something Eliot was beyond grateful for. Kylo needed more people to believe in him and his ability to change. He needed that. "I know you've been those things, Ky, I know," he answered. Eliot had been trying to hard to get it so Kylo was comfortable. So Margo was comfortable. And it felt impossible. Eliot was certain Kylo wouldn't hurt him. He was certain of it. But he recognized what Kylo was trying to say, even if it hurt to acknowledge it. And when he leaned forward, Eliot's head bowed as well, pressing his forehead against his. "I want to have everything with you, too," he was able to whisper. He swallowed again. "I need..." he began before taking in another deep breath. "...are you leaving me, or are you leaving home?" Kylo closed his eyes, the tiniest sliver of doubt creeping in. He’d been certain that this made sense, but suddenly he half wondered if he was just running away again. Eliot’s question - are you leaving home? - gave him more pause than he wanted to admit to. He’d told Eliot just a few days ago that the Cottage was home. And it was. It had been. For a while it had felt like the only place he’d ever been comfortable in his entire life. But Anakin Skywalker’s fears had only increased his own. He’d snapped at Henry, when, while it had sounded bad, normally he would have let it go. He’d let it go when Margo had publicly dumped on the world hadn’t he? The only opinion that had mattered to him, really, truly, was the opinion of the man in his arms, and the opinion of the woman who wasn’t his mother, but also was. Maybe he hadn’t realized how frustrated he was until that moment with the kid on the network, because it had felt like too much to bear, and he didn’t want to break under the weight. He didn’t want to prove Margo right, or irrevocably damage what he had with Eliot, and so it didn’t seem like running – it felt like releasing. Unless he was wrong about it, maybe he was wrong about it. He’d been wrong about so many things that seemed like they were the right thing to do in the moment. The calm threatened to evaporate, the question – he hadn’t intended for Eliot to read it that way. "Not you," he breathed, worried that he’d somehow miscommunicated what he intended. "I don’t want to leave you, I just –" he struggled to figure out how to put this so he might maybe make Eliot understand because he’d clearly failed thus far. "I can feel it. I know you trust me, and I can feel that too, it’s like – nothing I’ve ever felt before. I don’t want to leave you. I’d just go back to the apartment for a while until maybe I’m not facing this at home and on the network. I can’t do it both places. I’m not that strong," his voice wavered on that admission, but he did trust Eliot. And Eliot trusted him. He wasn’t wrong to do so, he didn’t think. If there was anyone he could trust with his weaknesses, it was Eliot. "I’m sorry." Not you. A wave of relief had washed over Eliot. He'd been convinced that he was in the midst of a situation where Kylo was giving him up, regardless of either of their feelings. With how chaotic this afternoon was going, and emotions being tossed from point to point, it'd been a logical assumption in Eliot's mind. He knew Kylo couldn't be leaving him because he didn't want to be with him. He'd known that before Kylo had even said. But Kylo had repeated it, several times, and that doubt was gone. And here Kylo was, making a choice, to ensure he didn't do anything he'd regret. He pulled back enough now, with his composure returning, and reached his hand up to rest against Kylo's cheek. He didn't offer a smile but the crumbled and broken expression had at least vacated his face. "I do trust you," he reaffirmed, because Eliot felt it necessary to do so. Eliot wanted Kylo not to doubt that this was true. Eliot didn't want to let doubt in anymore. And now he nodded his head, sniffling a little bit, but agreeing. "I hate this," he offered up, because it was a truth. He hated it so much and he had a feeling that it was only going to grow as time went on. He'd been so accustomed to the life they'd built in Tumbleweed and the Cottage. "I know," he whispered. Eliot couldn't hold that against him. Kylo had tried so long now. "And that's alright," he offered up. Now, with the sense of clarity of what was actually going on, he shifted, and leaned in to catch a gentle, quick kiss. When he let it go, he leaned his forehead against Kylo's again, as his hand continued to rest on his cheek. "You love me," he now said, and it was accompanied by an actual smile. Kylo watched the emotions flicker across Eliot's face, and there was a sense of actual relaxing when Eliot agreed with him. Maybe this wasn't the worst mistake. Maybe… he was doing something right. Eliot was trusting what he was saying, offering it back, not walking away. And at Eliot’s final statement, Kylo felt his cheeks flush. Away from the focus of the moment earlier, the statement seemed so very open. But he’d said it. It was also true. “I love you,” he repeated back, allowing the rest of it to fall back so the words could linger. |