eighteen; hatred

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"this isn't the right time for you to fall in love with me"




You take another step towards his shivering figure.

You're so eager to hold on to, and keep building upon, that little hope of friendship you had after last night, when he had opened up a bit to you, had let you hug him. To not lose the progress you had made with him. Whether he liked to admit it or not, he had opened up to you. He had trusted you with something.

"Stop," he snarls, his cherry-red lightsaber now noticeably shaking.

"I just want to help," you mumble softly, your hands in front of you, reaching out to him as you take a few steps forward. "Calm down, it's okay." You're speaking in a hushed tone, not wanting to send him further off the edge.

"No, no it's not." He swings his lightsaber, bringing it dangerously close to your throat, this time looking in your direction. You can feel his eyes on your face from beneath the helmet.

You keep your eyes trained on the helmet's eye slit, your hands still in front of you, showing him you're not about to make any sudden, unwanted moves, trying your best to keep on breathing steadily.

This is scary, this whole situation. You know what he's capable of. He had hurt you before- the subtle, nagging pain in your lower back served as a painful reminder of his uncontrollable anger- and you weren't sure just how much of his anger he would manage to contain this time. Especially with that menacing lightsaber in his hand.

"Take off your helmet," you whisper, your voice barely above audible level. He had said so himself that the helmet makes him act this way.

Both your heartbeats are somehow intertwined, he can't feel his own heart beating without feeling your own. He feels your pulse thumping loudly, senses the fear in your words.

The fear that is being caused by him.

He feels defeated. A feeling he's gotten used to having around you. 

"I don't want to hurt you again."

The words escape his helmet so quietly and so quickly, that you doubt your ears for a second. But you know he said it- can feel his instant regret at having spoken such words.

"I don't want you to hurt me again," you say, a light giggle bubbling in between your words. You clear your throat, and add, "Let me help you."

Kylo doesn't respond. He remains static, and for a few seconds, the only sound animating the room is the low, gentle humming of his ignited lightsaber.

Taking his lack of response as a 'go-ahead', you decide to make a bold move. Your heart beating out of your chest in apprehension, you make an attempt at force-grabbing his lightsaber, figuring the first step in making sure he starts to calm down would be to remove the weapon from his hand.

As soon as he feels the force-pull, he drops the weapon, and it instantly retracts, the metallic hilt of it making a couple of clanking sounds as it hits the ground next to his feet.

"Okay." You sense a few people standing in awe outside the room. You don't manage to block them out in time, and the thoughts they're having cloud your mind for a second-

"Did she seriously just calm Kylo Ren down?"

"How on Hoth did she do that?!"

"Did Kylo just let a girl take his lightsaber away?!?"

"She's so much stronger than he is."

Knowing Kylo is probably listening to the thoughts as well, you turn, making eye contact with the four storm troopers standing outside the room, and using the Force, slide the door closed, whilst simultaneously force-pushing them away in different directions, their bodies slamming against the walls. You hope they get the message.

"Ignore them," you say softly, turning your focus back onto the still-shaking Kylo Ren. Your heart swells with strange pride as you realise that it's probably taking all his strength to not grab his lightsaber and murder those stormtroopers right on the very spot for even having such thoughts.

You cautiously walk up to him, keeping an eye on his hand for any sudden movements. "Kylo, it's going to be okay," you whisper, "I swear it is."

Looking directly into the helmet's eye slit, you reach out, and place your palms flat against the back of his helmet. You hesitate for a second- still looking into the eye slit, knowing that even though you can't see his eyes, he's looking directly into yours- to reassure him that you would stop in a heartbeat if he asked you to.

But he says silent. He's looking deeply into your own eyes, knowing that you can't see his. The way you're blinking calmly, it starts calming him down. He lets you go on to find the tiny hook at the back of his helmet.

You press it, and then pull it down, and the front part of the helmet, the mouth-piece, comes off first, allowing you to slowly take the rest of the helmet off. You pull it off his head, his black locks tumbling down to his shoulders.

You can't believe he just let you do that. 

He can't either.

"Hi," you whisper to his bare face, clutching the dreaded helmet to your chest. Something flutters in your chest as you take in his features. 

He's looking down, refusing to make eye contact. His lips are swollen, and his wet eyelashes are clamped together. It breaks your heart. You know he doesn't like that you're seeing like this. But there's something so enthralling that you can't stop yourself.

Little did you know that at this particular moment, Kylo Ren hates you.

He hates how soft your voice is.

No-one, perhaps not even his mother, has ever used such a sweet, soft, melodic voice when speaking to him. He doesn't deserve it.

He hates how you just walked in here, demanding to help him. He hates how you stayed.

No-one ever cared this much. No-one ever dared calm him down. No-one had ever taken the time to make sure he doesn't hurt himself like you're doing. He doesn't deserve it.

He hates how he can feel your heartbeat pulsing in time with his.

If he couldn't hear it, if your hearts weren't somehow connected, it would make hurting you so much easier. He hates how he knows you don't deserve to be hurt.

He hates how pathetic he must look right now.

He hates that he feels your hope for him.

He hates how he's letting his guard down around you.

He hates how he can't stop himself from letting you help him. He doesn't want to be helped. He doesn't deserve help. 

Hates how he is somehow managing to stop himself from hurting you.

Hates how he can't stop himself from constantly aching to have you be his.

He hates you. Because you're the reason he lashed out in the first place.

But you don't know any of this, and completely oblivious to it all, you place a finger under his chin, raising his face to urge him to look at you.



It would mean the world to me if you could check out my original story: The Midnight Dilemma - undercover agent, bad boy gang leader, cartel adventures, secrets, tension, enemies to lovers, etc. It's a WIP and I'd love any feedback you might have. Thank you sososoososooo much 🥺

(A/N: i love this gif too much. )

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